Ferrari Roadtrip

Good food and Steve Coogan: an unlikely combination, I realise. But it made for one of the slickest comedy series of last year. For those who missed The Trip, here’s a précis: ‘Steve Coogan’ (played by, er, Steve Coogan) is asked by a magazine not too dissimilar to this one to experience a foodie’s tour of the UK, accompanied by crumple-faced comic Rob Brydon. What follows is an acerbic masterpiece of postmodern comedy – largely improvised, always knowing, and occasionally so clever that it’s almost irritating. Along the ride, the duo take in some of the finest food and most beautiful scenery England has to offer.

But one element did puzzle me: Coogan is a long-established petrolhead – until his public outburst against the presenters, he was a regular on Top Gear; and the first car he bought after Partridge success was a red Ferrari – so why, oh why, did he waste such an epic roadtrip on a Range Rover? It’s not that Range Rovers are bad cars – far from it – but if you want to enjoy a B-road to its fullest extent, you need an A-grade car.

So, on setting out on my first proper UK roadtrip since university – one that involved driving for driving’s sake, rather than visiting long-distance relatives – I decided to make two upgrades to my own trip. First, I’d ditch the 4x4 in favour of a proper car: a Ferrari California. Second, I’d drop the grating Welshman in favour of my (slightly less-grating) wife. At least one of those decisions was right.

There are certain preconceptions about Ferraris. First, that you need to have the driving prowess of Michael Schumacher to handle one. Second, you need to be as rich as Michael Schumacher to run one. And third, you need to have the same sexual organs as Michael Schumacher to drive one. The California contradicts all of these. Just ask my wife. She thinks that 32mph is a bit risky; believes that new handbags are the natural allocation for all excess cash; and certainly doesn’t have the same organs as Mr Schumacher (at least, the last time I checked.) And she loved the Ferrari California. That was a problem: it was meant to be my car.

You see, don’t think for one minute that the California is a ‘girly’ car. Anything that can propel you from 0-60mph in 3.9 seconds can’t be questioned on the cojones front. It’s just much better at downplaying its racing credentials than most. Which is ironic, as it’s the F1 technology that helps it to be such an accomplished all rounder.

Take the multi-link rear suspension: allowing for vertical and horizontal dampening. Clever stuff – and it helps make the ride not just reassuring as a driver, but more comfortable as a passenger too. Which I explained to my wife, as I duly hogged the driving seat.

Day one

Inspired by the 1957 Ferrari 250 GT California, the current model not only owes its good looks to the original, but has embraced the ‘GT’ part too, proving its Gran Tourer credentials from the get-go. Our first leg was a 280-mile stretch from London to Durham: by the end of a trip like that in your average six-figure supercar I’d have expected aching joints, rattled bones and a sweat on. But with the California’s electric fully-adjustable heated seats and climate control, the experience was altogether more civilised.

That said, I wasn’t exactly going to turn down a glass of chilled Laurent-Perrier from Seaham Hall’s welcoming staff. Seaham is situated on the coast of north County Durham. Like all the hotels on the trip, it’s categorised as a ‘design’ hotel. From the outside, it looks like a ‘standard’ country hotel – with one exception: the ultra-modern whirlpool fountain. It’s a visual clue to what you’ll find inside, that Seaham totally nails that elusive design ethic: the mix of classic and contemporary. For example, sculptured light fittings sit harmoniously beneath original ornate cornices.

For dinner at The White Room an amuse bouche of cauliflower velouté with lime dressing proved the impossible: that velouté is a real word and that cauliflower can taste exciting. My starter of truffle gnocchi with quail eggs, spinach and wild mushrooms was excellent too: all earthy freshness and rich warmth. A nice touch is the directory of suppliers listed in the back of the menu, so you can check where all the ingredients are sourced.

Seaham Hall [above] is so enchanting that even legendary rake Lord Byron gave in to its romantic charms and got married here. Of course, once he’d left a few weeks later he immediately got divorced. I had no plans to emulate, as I joked to the wife. “Let’s just see how the rest of the journey goes,” was her frank response.

Day two

Well, if the Tyne tunnel was anything to go by, we’d be married for a long time. With the roof down and the revs up, we sat back and enjoyed the Ferrari V8’s primal howl echoing all around us. You can catch the revs climbing on LEDs mounted within the carbon fibre steering wheel; a flick of the F1-style paddles and the double clutch instigates an up shift that takes only hundredths of a second; before you know it you’re about to dunch the car in front of you, and it’s time to give the carbon ceramic brakes a quick workout, before you begin the rush all over again. We managed four of these admittedly very childish bursts before daylight signalled the end of the tunnel. The toll was the best £1.20 I’ve ever spent.

Onward to Edinburgh for our next stop. The winding coastal road near Bamburgh Castle provided a perfect playground for the Ferrari. The California is the first V8 in the history of the marque to be mid-front mounted – meaning the engine is actually behind the front axle, rather than, like most other cars, on top of it. The resulting balance is perfect (well, near enough: the transaxle layout allows a weight distribution of 47% to the front and 53% to the rear.)

Squeezing into the underground carpark at Edinburgh’s Hotel Missoni proved, er, entertaining – especially for the circling tourists. But the California’s ground clearance is surprisingly good and we kept the carbon fibre front wing intact (thank God – as a £3,372 extra, I didn’t really fancy leaving it behind).

On entering the Missoni’s lobby, it was lucky I was still wearing my sunglasses (what? I’m driving a Ferrari – I’m allowed to wear sunglasses indoors) because the Italian design house so famous for its bold use of colours, has certainly embraced this when creating the hotel’s decor. Even the doormen wear bright-striped designer kilts (for which their mates definitely never take the piss out of them, I’m sure). As well as complimentary movies, wifi and mini bar, all rooms come with designer bathrooms: ‘floating’ sinks, seats in the showers, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors – and not to mention a splash of neon-purple and green for good measure.

Our room looked out over the famous Royal Mile: the hotel’s location couldn’t be better for exploring a city best suited to foot, not Ferrari. The hotel is set up for the modern traveller: you can borrow a laptop for the duration of your stay, for example – and the express check-out option on your TV (Bang & Olufsen, natch) is a real time-saver. But before we set off on our third leg, we needed some sustenance. Doughnuts, cakes, frangipani and dried meats comprise the Missoni’s epic buffet, with a full ‘Scottish’ breakfast delivering a good dollop of protein.

Day three

As we swapped the rolling hills of Scotland for those of the Lake District, we experienced one of the most beautiful drives of our lives. With the iPod on shuffle, an unlikely selection of Elgar’s Nimrod was made (wife’s iPod, obviously). The elusive winter sun broke through the clouds, and it was like driving into a Guinness commercial – with the Ferrari’s rumble providing the narration. At 370 miles, it was the longest stretch of our journey, but when we finally arrived in the Cotswolds, I was still sad to turn off the ignition.

Cotswolds 88 is a grand hotel – it’s not big; but it is grand. From the giant four-poster beds to the two-person roll-top baths, everything is extravagant and elaborate. The easiest way to explain the interior is ‘King’s Road chic’: designer chairs, modern art, chaise-longues… you get the picture. It’s how my wife would have our house if she had the money – and did it all while I was away on holiday. The £6,000 mattresses mean you’ll have one of the best night’s sleeps too. Given the grandiloquence of the surroundings, dinner is surprisingly minimalist. Each course is broken into three choices, such as ‘Cow’, ‘Fish’ and ‘Veg’ for mains – but the execution is anything but simplistic. Our favourite was the dessert economically referred to as ‘Apple’. It was a triumvirate of delicacies – mousse, granite and jelly – which evolved the simple fruit into a deliciously sweet-and-sour encounter. I never knew apples could taste so good. (Apart from a cold pint of Weston’s on a summer’s day.)

The following day we took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and braved going topless (the car, that is). With the aluminium hood safely tucked away – one button, 14 seconds, nice – the car looks even more like the California immortalised in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Day four

Our final evening was to be spent at Lime Wood, in the New Forest. Tucked away just inside the National Park, Lime Wood consists of the main house plus several villas designed in different architectural styles. We stayed in a New England timber-frame house – a two-up, two-down all to ourselves, with balconies overlooking the forest. The only thing that topped the room though was the Herb House Spa, which is, without exaggeration, the best spa I’ve ever been to (and in this job, you have a fair few to compare it to). Only completed a couple of months ago, it’s not just the quality of what’s on offer – think outdoor hot pool, mud house, sauna, steam room, etc – but the quality of who are offering it. Ewelina was my frankly telepathic masseuse, who managed to rid me of all my usual aches and pains, and some I didn’t even know I had. If I could have abducted her, I would – but the back seats in the California aren’t really big enough. (Just as well Ferrari has launched the new FF – a genuine four seater. Phew.)

Out of all of the hotels we stayed in, Lime Wood was probably the spiritual home for the California. Not only is motoring mecca Beaulieu just around the corner, but there’s even a Ferrari garage in nearby Lyndhurst. Also, in the case of Seaham and Cotswolds 88, both hotels were historic hotels, decked out with modern finesse. Lime Wood, on the other hand, as with the Ferrari, is all new – but finished with classic and retro flair.

Day five

On returning the car to Ferrari, I was almost as sad to see it go as my wife was. Driving a Ferrari, you certainly get treated in a special way. At one service station, a man followed me everywhere I went – including the toilet: “I have that car too,” he said in a Borat-style accent, “but mine is on my desktop.”

An elderly gent in Waitrose carpark (for that is where Ferrari owners must do their shopping) said: “Nice, but I bet it costs a fortune to run.” Well, actually, no. It’s the first direct fuel injection engine Ferrari has ever made, so it manages a relatively economic 24mpg. We travelled 1,100 miles and it cost us about £300 – and that was with fancy-pants V Power. So, about the cost of two weekend return train tickets from London to Edinburgh.

But the real moment of clarity for me was, somewhat symbolically, at the car wash. The attendant came up to me, shook my hand and his first words were simply: “That is a fucking amazing car.”

Frankly, I had to agree with him.

 

For Ferrari sales: visit Lancaster Colchester,
Auto Way, Ipswich Rd, Colchester, CO4 9HA;
01206 848 558; dealer.ferrari.com/lancaster/colchester

Seaham Hall, Durham, SR7 7AG;
0191 5161 400; seaham-hall.co.uk

Hotel Missoni, 1 George IV Bridge, Edinburgh, EH1 1AD;
0131 220 6666; hotelmissoni.com

Cotswolds 88, Gloucestershire, GL6 6YB;
01452 813 688; cotswolds88hotel.com

Lime Wood, Lyndhurst, SO43 7FZ;
023 8028 7177; limewoodhotel.co.uk