Sometimes a trip can have a twilight-zone-like overlay, even when you least expect it.
Last February, Roseann and I took a trip to Ledbury, England, to take a Land Rover Experience driving course at the famed Eastnor Castle (see Overland Journal Spring 2008).
With a pre-course visit to meet Land Rover legend Roger Crathorne at the Heritage Motor Museum in Gaydon, and several other stops at expedition specialty stops like Foleys, obviously we had a Land-Rover-themed trip going.
But other Land Rover incidents kept cropping up. Like the evening after our museum visit, at a village south of Solihull, we stopped in the local pub for dinner. It was a foggy, dark winter’s evening and when we entered the classic old pub, ducking through the heavy and battered old oak door, the six or so locals standing round the bar and fire in the dim and smokey room all stopped talking and turned to stare at us - no smiles. Too late to turn and flee, we took a deep breath, hoped for the best, and stepped up to the bar and ordered two best bitters.
Turned out of course everyone was friendly, and soon were bombarding us with questions about what we were doing there. We told them about the magazine, and of the visit to Land Rover headquarters and the museum, and our future course down at Eastnor.
“What you doin’ drivin’ those Rovers?” asked the owner and barkeep. “My Mitsu’ can beat em any day. You bring one o’ them fancy trucks down here and I’ll show them the same I did with the Toy-o - challenged a bloke to a pulling contest, right here in the parking lot, I did. Hooked ‘em up with a line and we set to a tug-o-war, and I yanked him right across the lot . . . then there was the time last year, when the river flooded . . . spent hours pulling out Rovers and Toyotas and the like . . .”
We smiled and nodded, thinking what Land Rover would think if we borrowed a new LR3 Discovery and brought it down for a little ale-fueled tug-of-war in a pub parking lot . . .
While we tucked into two huge plates of venison stew, dumplings, and fresh vegetables, we chatted with a nice couple who had worked at Land Rover in the past. But every time the words ‘Land Rover’ were uttered, a shadowy figure (reminiscent of various characters in Tolkien’s Prancing Pony) crouched by the huge fireplace cried out, “LAND ROVER IS KING!” and then a long, slurred litany of Land Rover model specifications (all correct).
This went on for at least 45 minutes while we finished dinner, and our inebriated Greek chorus accompaniest went through every Land Rover model since 1960.
A week later, after finishing up the driving course, we pointed the rental car west and headed to Wales. On a whim, Roseann called up a bed-and-breakfast listed on a map as the “oldest farmhouse in Wales” - they had a vacancy.
We crossed the River Wye, as directed, headed up a lovely bucolic valley (well, most of England and Wales is lovely and bucolic, but this is especially so), turned off the main road and rumbled up a washed out track next to a cascading stream . . . and there in the field in front of a very old house indeed was a 1970 Series II - sporting, of all things, Desert Dueler tires, more common where we live in Arizona than England (photo, above).
Turns out the farmhouse, Hafod-y-Garreg, is indeed the oldest known building in Wales and our hosts, Anne and John -formerly antiques renovators and dealers in London - said that one day on a total whim ended up buying the old Land Rover (we know all about buying Land Rovers on whims) and taking off on a spur-of-the-moment holiday - just pointed the truck west, and ended up finding the farmhouse that weekend.
After years of careful renovation and restoration, it is something to behold, filled with Welsh period furniture and showing off the enormous oak beams. Staying there is like stepping back to Medieval times - we liked it so much, we stayed an extra day, and only wished we had had a Land Rover then so we could explore the nearby Brecon Beacons.
Although for the rest of the week we kept expecting to hear the slurred call, “Land Rover is King!”