A number of Morris Minor enthusiasts arrived to wave us off, at the start of the London to Sydney Marathon 2004.  I hoped I would not let them down and that my 1970 Morris Minor would arrive intact at its Sydney destination, nearly 10,000 miles and 30 days later.

Most of the roads and scenery during the first week of the Marathon were breath taking through villages and up and down spectacular steep mountain passes in France, Italy and Greece. The pace every day was demanding and we quickly learnt why the event is called a marathon.

Every day began with an early start and a drive to the off-road stages managed by the local car clubs of each area.  And what a variety of demanding stages we experienced, from unmade steep mountain climbs and descents to long, undulating and fast curvy tarmac sections, but all with one element in common – they were all usually rough.  The Minor coped reasonably well with the majority of the regularities but when the sections became steep climbs without any long stretches, we could not reach the set average speed, let alone maintain it.  A timed regularity is all about exercising skill in maintaining the average speed that is given at the start of each stage. First gear was too low and second gear too high and we could only crawl up the inclines steadily in first and I found that I was driving on the limit, to no avail.

On our long daily treks on the open roads, the Minor was in its element, the more I drove in such contrasting conditions, the more I became impressed with its handling characteristics and robustness.  Winding our way up mountain roads from Igoumenitsa to Thessaloniki in Southern Greece on day 9 we were pacing David Miller’s MGB for hours.  I was surprised that the MGB was not clearing out from us as we overtook lorries and heavy traffic.  The way the Minor was pulling up the hills in third and top gear, impressed me.   Then suddenly, as the Minor started to coast down the mountain descents, the engine cut out, but under load the problem stopped.  Driving into Thessaloniki for the night’s stop the characteristics worsened - the engine kept cutting out and would barely run – the SU carburettor was flooding.  Trevor dismantled the carburettor and could not find any thing wrong but he decided to reassemble the unit with a new float.  The problem continued, the following morning. On further investigation Trevor found that the float jammed against the side of the float chamber when it was at its lower end of travel, causing the carburettor to flood.  Fortunately, the dimensions of the second spare float were just sufficiently different to clear, although the appearance was the same.  By the time the problem was sorted we had missed the competitive stages and pressed on with the long drive to the night’s stop at Alexandroupoli.  Unfortunately, we received maximum penalties, which could not be made up.

The mountain routes through France, Italy and Greece provided some of the most spectacular scenery imaginable and into Turkey to Gallipoli where a little extra time was built into the day’s programme to allow us to visit the memorial sites.  But it did seem strange, travelling through country after country and not interacting with local people, except at service stations during our fuel stops and brief greetings at the start of the stages, with local car club members.   At first I thought it a wasted opportunity not to visit interesting historical sites when we were so near but in a short time I had adapted to marathon mentality and the only site that dominated my thoughts was the Sydney Opera House, not because of its architectural individuality, but simply as the destination we were aiming for.

The official start of the Indian sector was just near the airport at Cochin in southern India.  Arriving in the Morris Minor to be flagged off a sea of people engulfed her – she had become the star of the event in India.  People kept asking “What model of Morris?” “What bhp?” “What year?”

The 150 kms drive to the first stages in the tea plantations of the Munnar mountain region was an adventure in itself.  The roads became flooded during a heavy tropical downpour and it was difficult to follow our route.  Most of the roads were rough, some with enormous potholes.  Our instructions stated, only to drive over areas of the road we could see, but that was nigh impossible after the rains had filled up the holes.  Some of the potholes we bumped into brought tears into my eyes as the suspension bottomed.

It takes some time to accustom oneself to the Indian style of driving.  Road rules appear to be ignored at every level.  Driving is on the left hand side of the road, but to many, the choice is optional!!  You have to be ready to run off the road when confronted with an overtaking bus or truck while turning a corner.  Motor cyclists, cyclists, pedestrians, in fact, drivers of any type of motorised or unmotorised devise enter on to any road, major or minor, on either side, without looking. By the time we had arrived at the time control before the start of the first stage three and half hours later, I felt as though I had already driven a demanding stage.

The enthusiasts of Spitfire Motorsports organised a variety of stages with contrasting conditions for the London to Sydney Marathon participants.   Winding up the side of a mountain and down again, for 30 kms. through the tea plantations, the scenery was spectacular, but the road was narrow, broken up and the Minor could not reach the average speed set by the organisers. These conditions and speed were more suited to the 4 X 4’s, yet some of the drivers in that category were experiencing difficulty with the conditions.

After we left Coimbatore, the gravel rally stages were run at a wind farm round the wind turbines and were more in keeping with the gravel stages we were expecting in Australia, then our final stage in India near Mysore, was my favourite, a fairly fast hillclimb with sweeping corners on tarmac with not too many potholes.

The programme was shortened in India with the final stages near Ooty cancelled.  We all had to return to Cochin for an extra day to clean our cars to ensure that they passed the stringent quarantine conditions to enter into Australia.  The cars and teams were originally flying into Alice Springs for one day of rest before the first stage of the Australian sector .  But the night before the start of the Marathon in London Nick Brittan informed all competitors that if any car did not pass the test by the two Australian Quarantine Inspectors in India, it would not be permitted to fly from India into Alice Springs as there is no quarantine cleaning facility there. For this reason, the cars, and teams were to be offloaded in Darwin, where suitable facilities were available.  To get the cars to Alice Springs, over 900 miles south of Darwin, in one day became the responsibility of the teams as well as their expense.  The Morris Minor passed its cleanliness test in India, but was one of the few participants of the Clowes Cup, (the regularity section) who received the green sticker.  Several days passed before the competitive regularity stages could be recommenced as the inspection process did not finish until over a day later, forcing some competitors to drive through the night, missing out the Alice Springs to Uluru section, to catch up the rally in Coober Pedy.

Covering so many miles in a day in some of the most inhospitable parts of Australia, over some of the most tortuous roads imaginable soon concentrates the mind.  The driver needs to concentrate one hundred per cent, with out any lapse, or a deep rut or rock might be missed.  The Birdville Track in north-west South Australia, originally used to drive cattle south from the centre, provided two of the most demanding days of the whole rally.  Leaving Coober Pedy, the opal mining town, before sunrise, we headed north. Instead of the moonscape type of scenery in the desert areas we found miles and miles of beautiful greenery and yellow desert flowers.  It was hard to imagine that this was the area that had claimed so many explorer’s lives in the past.  Passing Lake Eyre, where Donald Campbell attempted the Land Speed Record in 1964 we could see water rippling in the distance, where usually acres and acres of dry salt is visible.   Just three weeks before it had rained heavily, the first time for four years, and before that, in 1975.  The scenery was strangely beautiful, but eerie with no animals, birds, insects, humans or houses.

The rain had caused bog holes on the gravel road – some had dried, leaving deep ruts, which were hard to see until it was too late.  The Minor’s suspension took a pounding that day until we arrived at our desert camp at Mungarannie, at sunset.

The next morning, Day 25 of the rally, the daily road book described the 800 kms. day as “an easy driving day” yet all of the cars in the classic car class experienced problems, except the Minor (it must have been luck).  The MGB’s suspension collapsed, south of Birdsville, the two Volvos shredded tyres on the tortuous road travelling east after Birdsville, the Ford Escort rolled two and a half times and was lifted back on to its wheels and continued on, slowly.  The gravel road with rocks as big as grapefruit and sharp razorlike edges, was ploughed into high ridges by the previous traffic.  The Minor’s sump guard was continually pounded with rocks jamming under it.  The driver needed to take extreme care not to allow the wheels to catch on one of the ridges causing the car to snake and possibly roll over.  It was the most frightening road I’ve ever driven on.  As the sun started to set the changing light made shadows in the ruts and it became more difficult to judge a path to take.  We were still miles from the night camp but we knew there was an asphalt road and I was trying to reach that point before nightfall.

Just as the light faded we came to the T junction and the single-track asphalt road.  Still 117 kms. before the night stop, but at least the surface was smooth.  An hour and a half later, like an oasis in the distance, we could see the lights of the camp.  Sighs of relief that we had arrived with the Minor, and ourselves, unscathed.

The next day as we progressed eastwards towards the Pacific coast, suddenly trees appeared and grass and sadly, dead kangaroos every hundred yards or so, the victims of road kill.  We were back in civilisation – with road trains, the occasional car and house.  I then had to adapt to traffic again.

The roads for the rest of the Marathon were in good condition but the competitive  stages seemed to get tougher each day and I started to question my sanity of putting the Minor through such car breaking conditions.  I expected rough roads but I started to believe that the gullies, rocks, sand, deep ruts, fords and creek beds the Minor banged and bottomed over, were more suited to the 4 X 4’s.

Day 30, the last day of the marathon and just 500 kms to Sydney.  I’d heard stories of previous marathons when mechanical problems forced competitors to withdraw and not reach the destination.  I kept hearing imaginary mechanical sounds.  Was the back axle getting noisier? Will something break on the suspension?  Will the engine blow up?  Such tension all day!

Just 30 kms north of Sydney, I noticed three Morris Minor in the rear view mirror – they had been waiting to escort our Minor into Sydney.  Several kilometres later the engine suddenly cut out and I was forced to stop. Only 28 kms from Sydney, flanked by our escorts and stopped on the side of the road, I immediately thought that this Minor would never see the Opera House.  Trevor immediately lifted the bonnet, finding no visible problem, but pushed the fuses into place and suddenly she sprang into life.  The final 28 kilometres turned out to be the most tension filled drive I have ever experienced.  Then suddenly, over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and there was the Opera House.  We had made it.  The first Morris Minor to be driven from London to Sydney – 16,000 kilometres in 30 days – and she arrived all intact – no dents (apart from the sump guard) and the engine still sounding as sweet as ever and not even one puncture.

After parking the car I stepped back to take in the view – the Morris Minor parked with the Sydney Opera House in the background.  I couldn’t believe we had made it after two years of planning and preparing the car.  I felt overwhelmed.

Some cars did not finish. Many made it, looking somewhat battered.  The classic car class was won by John and Jill Tallis in the Volvo 120 and the Minor finished fourth in class.

I am indebted to a number of people who contributed to my participation in the London to Sydney Marathon and particularly Trevor Hulks, my co-driver.  For the past year he has meticulously restored and prepared the Morris Minor to such a high standard that it hardly missed a beat throughout the entire 16,000 kms. and traversed some of the roughest roads imaginable.  Without a reliable and well-prepared car, the end result may have been very much different.