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The global magazine and marketplace for classic car enthusiasts, by enthusiasts.
Scotland is known as the land of four seasons in a single day. Normally, that means sunshine, rain, wind and perhaps even snow, all within the space of a few hours. Sometimes you get lucky; more often, you do not. But today, without question, luck was on our side.
For years, the Flying Scotsman Rally has been high on our wishlist. The stories from previous participants are infectious, and now that the event is run entirely in Scotland, this edition may well be more appealing than ever.
Last Tuesday evening we took the ferry to Great Britain, arriving on Thursday morning at the iconic Gleneagles Hotel. After scrutineering and the prologue, Friday immediately became serious: the first full day of competition. Long, demanding and breathtakingly beautiful. From Gleneagles to Aberdeen; through rolling hills, narrow roads and constantly changing weather conditions.
According to the organisers, today promised the most beautiful route of all. And, to be fair, they had not said a word too much.
Here, it is almost impossible to plot a route without naturally ending up on magnificent roads. Where elsewhere you have to make an effort to find the finest stretches of asphalt, in Scotland it seems almost impossible not to.
Narrow roads wind over ridgelines, past rivers, streams and waterfalls. Old stone walls divide the landscape as though they have simply been there for centuries — which, most likely, they have. Everywhere there are sheep, lambs, deer and, every now and then, even a fox glancing up at all that vintage-car commotion.
With the sun out, it sometimes felt more like Portugal than Scotland.
The days consist largely of regularities, and this is precisely where the organisation excels. They know how to find the most beautiful locations: sometimes on public roads, sometimes on private estates where you would normally never be allowed.
Everything is arranged down to the smallest detail. And it has to be, because the Flying Scotsman is not just a leisurely tour; it is a true endurance rally. Not only short tests and quick trials, but long days, serious distances and constant concentration.
That demands a great deal from both people and machines, and it is clearly visible along the way. There are plenty of mechanical issues. Cars under real strain, crews forced to improvise and teams helping one another simply to keep going.
With rain, snow and strong winds, this must be an entirely different experience. The snow-covered mountain peaks in the distance are a constant reminder of that.
The regularities themselves are sometimes right on the limit. It is all about average speeds, accurate route reading and, above all, perfect communication between driver and navigator. That last element sometimes proves at least as challenging as the route itself.
It is no coincidence that navigation is taken very seriously here. To our surprise, we heard that some competitors even hire professional navigators. That says something about how intensely this rally is approached. Whether that would entirely be our style? We are not quite sure yet.
Perhaps what stands out most is the atmosphere. Despite the competition, everyone is remarkably friendly and helpful.
You can walk up to the best navigator in the field for advice without any problem, and he will gladly help you. Probably also because, deep down, he knows he is going to beat you anyway.
The stops along the way are convivial, the evenings in the hotel bar at least as atmospheric, and as far as we can tell, all drivers and navigators are still very much together.
That may well be the greatest victory of all.
On to tomorrow.
This morning the sun was shining again as we set off, yet the day could hardly have been more different from yesterday. The weather was less kind, with at least ten degrees less on the thermometer, and both the landscape and the competition had an entirely different character. More on that shortly.
First, something about a question we received from several people: what car are we actually driving in this edition of the Flying Scotsman?
It is lovely to see that the updates are appreciated. Should there be any other questions, I would of course be happy to hear them.
We are driving a 1928 Lancia Lambda Series 8, fitted with a body based on the original Mille Miglia cars with Casaro coachwork. The car was restored in its current form in the 1980s, based on an original short chassis, by Brian Hawke and Don Wright, both from Australia. The car was originally owned by prominent Australian lawyer Linton Morris, who regularly entered it in events in Australia and completed the Mille Miglia with it in 1992. The Lancia was then sold to classic racer Peter Giddings, who used the car extensively in competition. For around five years now, the car has been owned by a Dutch Lancia collector and has already completed many journeys and rallies.
It is a wonderful car to drive: light-footed, agile and not overly powerful, yet surprisingly quick — especially on undulating roads, where the Lambda’s balance really comes into its own. In the hills it climbs effortlessly, but it is above all in the steering that it truly shines. And, in my humble opinion, it is also a beautiful thing to look at. Among all the British might of Bentley and Talbot, this Italian elegance stands out delightfully.
Then day two of the rally.
The landscape today was completely different. Where yesterday nature still felt rugged and untouched, as though nothing had changed for hundreds of years, today it was much more rolling and gentle. The roads were less steep, less demanding and, truth be told, less spectacular. Today, the real challenge had to come mainly from the competitive elements.
There were four tests and six regularities on the programme, and they kept us busy from start to finish — and even afterwards, at the bar, after more than 300 kilometres behind the wheel. It is admirable how some competitors manage to produce an almost perfect score.
The first test took place on a farm, where we had to manoeuvre between cones as quickly as possible, preferably with a little flair. Later in the day came a circuit test, where a sharp time had to be set over a marked course. Here, the Lancia truly showed its best side, thanks to its fantastic road holding and playful cornering behaviour.
The regularities were tough. For me, as a newcomer, this was only the second real day on which I had to deal with them seriously. As other competitors already said yesterday: it becomes addictive. Despite our modest ranking, I noticed that I wanted to get better and better at it.
After receiving all sorts of valuable advice at the bar yesterday and studying our mistakes in greater detail, today brought cautious progress. We climbed a few places; nowhere near enough yet, but progress is progress, and more importantly: we once again learned how to approach it better next time, hopefully already tomorrow.
The rally ended today with an absolute highlight that had nothing to do with competition: a magnificent private collection of steam engines and automobiles. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to publish any photographs of it, but believe us: it was breathtaking. Including a steam-powered carousel.
Writing daily updates from an event can be quite difficult, especially when the atmosphere is as good as it was today at the Flying Scotsman.
After all the challenges, moments of joy and disappointments of the regularities and tests, we eventually reached the finish in Gleneagles. At that moment the sun finally began to shine, and, to be honest, a proper glass of Guinness sounded just a little more appealing than retreating to our room behind the laptop to write a report.
But now, after a wonderful day and evening, here is an update from this final fantastic rally day after all.
Today was all about the landscape. The section through the forests in particular was truly magnificent: pure, unspoilt nature of a kind you rarely encounter anymore.
Forests in a rolling hillscape, narrow roads winding elegantly between the trees, tall trees lining the route and endless views; this was a real Sunday drive of the kind we all love. Simply pressing on in your car along beautiful roads. With a little competition here and there.
Between it all lay rolling pastures, separated by characteristic stone walls that kept the sheep in place. The only sound was the bleating of the flocks, alternating with the warm rumble of a vintage car in the distance.
The chosen roads were small, narrow and pure enjoyment. Every now and then a tractor came the other way, its driver kindly pulling aside for a moment — at least, most of the time — invariably followed by an enthusiastic wave.
In fact, everyone we met along the way was friendly. People stood by the route to watch, children waved enthusiastically, and even the cyclists proved remarkably courteous.
The regularity locations were also beautifully situated. It is almost a shame that, during the competition, you cannot really enjoy them in a relaxed way, because your concentration is focused entirely elsewhere. Fortunately, there were enough other moments to pause briefly and take in the view, for example high on the hills, where the landscape unfolded in all its splendour.
Meanwhile, the Lambda purred along wonderfully. What a car it remains. Together with its little sister, the Aprilia, both Lancias glided effortlessly over the hills among all the British might of Bentleys, Lagondas and Talbots.
It is precisely that combination of competition, hospitality and atmosphere that makes the Flying Scotsman so special. It is certainly not the cheapest rally to enter, but should you ever have the opportunity, we can wholeheartedly recommend it.
It was a wonderful weekend.
Attached once again are several beautiful photographs by Will Broadhead, supplemented with a few phone snapshots of our own.
Photos by Will Broadhead Photography, text by Laurens Klein