This text was not translated, because it is originally in English The day before the start of Rallye Sanremo, We tackle its most feared and demanding stage, the 27-mile Ronde, in a Fabia Monte CarloOne word daubed in white paint on a rock the size of a Skoda Citigo offers a hint that Strada Provinciale 56, a mountain road in north-west Italy, is part of rallying folklore. Situated at a crossroads, the weathered monolith reads, quite simply, Rohrl.
Its a succinct tribute to double world rally champion Walter Röhrl, a legend in these parts for pedalling a Fiat 131 Abarth to victory on Rallye Sanremo in 1980 and repeating the feat in an Audi Quattro Sport S1 in 1985.
Rallye Sanremo may be based in the grand old seaside town that gives the event its name, but the action takes place on closed public roads overlooking the Mediterranean coastline. In the small, quiet settlements that litter the route, rallying is as much a part of life as the olives grown on the steep hillsides by the local farmers.
Once a five-day marathon that took crews as far away as Livorno, some 200 miles along the coast, Rallye Sanremo is these days a sprint event, comprising 10 special stages packed into a manic 25 hours.
Weve been drawn here by the most feared stage of the rally: Ronde. At 27. 34 miles, its the longest test in the Intercontinental Rally Challenge and splices together three roads used earlier in the rally into one über-stage.
Ronde contains everything: tortuous hairpins, fast descents, narrow bridges, blind crests, changing grip levels, bumpy sections where harsh winters have broken the asphalt, a fast and flowing forest section and some fresh-air cliff drops. Then theres the dark. Yes, the Automobile Club of Sanremo sees fit to run the stage at night, although, as one rally team manager says, At least you cant see the drops in the dark.
Our quest is to drive Ronde at a more sedate pace and – for photographic purposes and the relief of my nerves – in daylight. Whereas a rally driver would have a navigator sitting alongside calling the shots, Ive got snapper Peter Spinney taking them instead, while Skoda UK Motorsport team boss Andy Rogers and PR guru Paul Evans are running chase car and guiding us to some of the key points.
Skoda UK hasnt entered its Fabia S2000 for Sanremo, focusing instead on the season showdown in Cyprus, but it has lent us a 1. 6-litre turbodiesel Fabia Monte Carlo road car in which to tackle the stage. With the rally stages of the famous Monte Carlo Rally just 50 miles west, the limited-edition model is a fitting vehicle for our adventure.
We leave Sanremo on a cloudy October morning and drive north to Gozzo, which is little more than a handful of hairpin-hugging houses. Its the day before the roads are closed and painted across the asphalt is a thin white line that signifies the stage start.
Skoda UKs efferverscent team co-ordinator, Dario DEsposito, has written us some hints for tackling Ronde. He advises rally navigators to turn on their cars map-reading light before the start, even if the stage is being held in daylight. The reason, he says cryptically, will become clear later.
I cajole Spinney into giving me a rally countdown – five-four-three-two-one – and we swing the little Fabia through a series of hairpins and accelerate along a ridge. Less than two miles into the stage, we arrive at a wide right-hand hairpin, where we stop to admire the view across to the French Riviera.
Like rallying archaeologists, we unearth artifacts, a battered crash barrier bearing the name of Carlos Sainz in flaking blue paint. A slogan on the rockface reads, No Kopecký – no party. It refers to Skodas Jan Kopecký, the darling of hard-revelling Czech rally fans.
Some hardy spectators have already pitched their tents in a small clearing on the inside of the hairpin. Theyre a day early, but you have to be to bag the best viewing spots.
We press on deeper into the Scots pine, chestnut and beech trees. The road narrows, but the corners are fast and flowing. A hooked-up rally crew with accurate pacenotes could gain chunks of time over hesitant rivals here. Its fun to fling the nimble Fabia Monte Carlo through the bends, and the Skodas 104bhp is more than enough on a route like this. Mind you, Id feel less enthusiastic about bringing the 265bhp Fabia Super 2000 rally car down here. It is 15cm wider than our road version, and what concerns me most is that the stones that mark the edge of the road are like jagged sharks teeth. Touch one of them and youll sustain a time-consuming puncture. There is no opportunity of cutting the corner to save time; Sanremo favours drivers who can control their aggression.
This part of the stage is strictly middle-of-the-road stuff, explains Rogers. There are only one or two cuts that the drivers can take.
We drive on to a difficult sequence of bumpy corners. Back in 2001, when Sanremo was part of the world championship, Richard Burns put his Subaru Impreza off here, less than three miles into the event. Fortunately, it didnt derail his charge to that seasons title.
After four miles, we arrive at the first junction. The road to our right leads down into San Romolo, where the stage finishes, but were going left. We meet Oscar, an enthusiastic marshal who is laying out marker tape, and have a conversation via two languages. Turns out Oscar used to be a mechanic for the KTM bike team on enduro events. He wears a cardboard model of a car on his head for Spinneys camera.
Oscar tells us about a famous jump in Bajardo, some way further round the mountains. Through his gesticulations, we learn theres potential for some big air there.
We turn our backs on San Romolo. The surface is more slippery and the road is still sinuous. Our Fabia is happy bumbling along in third and fourth gears, but on more difficult sections my hesitant stabs of the throttle around some of the blind corners are causing me more work, because Im letting the engine drop out of the rev range and having to snick down a gear.
Teams will fit a short-ratio sequential gearbox, so the top speed will be about 110mph, and despite the tight nature of the roads there will still be plenty of fourth, fifth and sixth-gear sections, Rogers tells me. Okay… Ive barely introduced my Fabia to its longest fifth ratio since we left Sanremo.
Five miles in, we level out at 890m above sea level and take a sharp left into a tunnel that cuts through the mountainside. The burble of our Fabias 1. 6 TDI reverberates loudly in the high-ceilinged tunnel. In a performance-tuned, normally aspirated, 2. 0-litre petrol Super 2000 car – where noise, vibration and harshness levels are given short shrift – it must be deafening, crash helmets or no crash helmets.
Remember that reminder for co-drivers to turn on their map-reading light at the start of the stage? Well, its hard to read pacenotes in the dark, and the co-driver wont be able to warn of the treacherous left-hand corner that rushes up at the exit of the tunnel. Judging by the crumpled guardrail, some have learned the hard way.
We exit the tunnel and descend into Perinaldo. Just before the village theres a long left-hander where French ace Didier Auriol went off on the opening stage of the 1992 event when his Lancia Delta Integrale shed a wheel. It ruined his chances of a Sanremo hat-trick and opened the door for home hero Andrea Aghini to take his only World Rally Championship victory.
At a junction, we turn right on to an incredibly tight road, barely a cars width. I feel uncomfortable. Its bumpy and I keep imagining that there could be an over-committed Fiat Panda 4x4 speeding towards us around the next bend – not something the rally crews have to worry about.
After Perinaldo, DEspositos notes cheerfully tell us to prepare to panic. Our descent gets steeper and the road gets even tighter. It is a key section, where drivers can put too much demand on brakes and tyres, which can cause difficulties later in the stage.
We negotiate a sequence of bends where Röhrl aquaplaned on standing water during the 1984 rally and wrote off his Audi Quattro Sport. At the bottom of the hill, we cross a tributary of the Nervia river over a narrow bridge and, at 13. 5 miles, we arrive in Apricale, where the road starts to climb again.
We pause at a well known junction. Tomorrow, Apricale will be packed with spectators. Today, it is still early and the medieval town hasnt really woken up. I need a break and Im relieved when the others agree to an espresso.
Back in the Fabia Monte Carlo, we start a four-mile section thats one of the most satisfying parts of the stage. The road is smooth and recently resurfaced, and it dances left and right, hugging the mountainside on the left, while on the right a guardrail separates us from thin air. Thankfully, the metal looks in a good state of repair; on other parts of Ronde, the barriers look like theyd fall over in a stiff breeze. Visibility is better too. Were out of the trees and you can see two or three corners ahead – generous by Sanremo standards – and you can push harder as a result.
A series of switchbacks takes us up to Bajardo. We remember what our new pal Oscar said about the famous jump. After a run up the hill from a hairpin, the launchpad is where our mountain road joins the main street at a junction. The crest is blind, the camber uneven. Drivers must trust their pacenotes implicitly here.
Leaving Bajardo behind, we arrive at a crossroads. Left takes us up Monte Ceppo via another famous rally road, and the route straight ahead forms an alternative version of the Ronde stage. With so many challenging roads to choose from, its little wonder that the Liguria region breeds great asphalt rally drivers.
We turn right, past Röhrls rock, and plunge back into the forest. The trees glow vivid orange with autumnal hues, but lingering fog reduces visibility considerably. I imagine how the crews will be feeling. Whereas the earlier descent to Apricale called for caution and discipline, this one is wider and faster, demanding bravery and precision. Shrewd competitors who havent cooked their tyres and brakes will go on the attack. Its slippery due to the layer of mulchy leaves and chestnut husks on the asphalt.
Before long were back in San Romolo and can sense the finish. Theres a sting in the tail: a challenging left-hander over a bridge that has caught out many drivers eager to finish with a flourish. Just up the road, a white painted line across the asphalt marks the end of the stage.
As Spinney takes more photographs, I reflect on Ronde. Weve cruised around, stopping for coffee and taking photos like tourists. Could I drive all the way at ten-tenths, pushing the car to the limit, maximising every braking point and throttle application, heeding the pacenotes and never putting a wheel off line? Could I do all that for 30 intense minutes in the dark? No chance.
We stop at nearby DallAva restaurant in the shadow of an 800-year-old chestnut tree. Run by the third generation of the same family, the place is a shrine to rallying. The walls are covered with signed, framed photographs of every famous rally driver that youd care to name.
I dont spot an image of Italian driver Giandomenico Basso, but hell soon get his place on the wall because two days later he will go on to win Sanremo for the second time, equalling Colin McRae and Björn Waldegård in the record books. En route, Basso will also claim Ronde, stopping the clocks at 30min 20. 4sec, which equates to an average speed of 54mph. Thinking back over our run, I can count the number of times I hit a maximum speed of 54mph on one hand…