
Going to the right would have meant scraping the front o/s wing against the gorge wall and there wasn’t enough room between the rock and the hard place on the other side to squeeze the n/s front wing through. Considering I was at the wheel of an 84 grand Range Rover at the time this was going to be expensive. And then I had the uncharitable thought, it’s not my car!
But then I thought again, Range Rover wouldn’t have sent me up here if they didn’t think the Range Rover could take it. So I aimed for the rock, sure in the knowledge that with the air-assisted suspension at full raised height, I would pass over the rock unscathed. However, knowing the theory and trusting the technology are two entirely different things.
I needn’t have worried. As I braced myself for the expensive career-ending crunch as the front wheel rode over the rock – it didn’t happen. There were millimetres to spare as the rear wheel rode over it and I was on my way. Further up the stream bed, I had to fold in the wing mirrors to pass between a couple of rocky walls. It was that close. But the Range Rover didn’t balk once, and it was returned to the Land Rover events team muddy but unmarked.

Even the French were impressed with the autumnal colours, the frost encrusted grass and heather, the spooky mist shrouded moorland and the grandeur of the Borders and Lammermuirs landscape.
They were also impressed with the quality of the pastries at breakfast at the Roxburghe Hotel. They were light, flaky, tasty and succulent, and considering there were some apple pastries amongst the croissants I was able to have five of my ‘five a day’ fruit allowance all at the same time.
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