01x07 - The Beach (Buggy) Boys - Part 1: Namibia (no tent)

[bunniefuu]

Hello and welcome to a Grand Tour special, the Volkswagen Beetle.

It's a car we hate very much because it appeals only to Nazis and hippies, and we are neither of those things.

However, if you remove the bodywork and replace it with something a bit more fun - something like this-- you end up with a beach buggy, and that's brilliant.

We love beach buggies.

However, Mr. Wilman disagrees.

He says that if they'd been any good, they would have caught on, and he points out that they didn't.

So he hatched a plan. And it's this: he said all three of us must buy a Volkswagen Beetle, turn it into a beach buggy, and then report with it to a wild, rugged and extremely remote place-- here on the coast of Namibia.

This is what I've built.

It's as close as you can possibly get to the original 1964 beach buggy built by Bruce Meyers.

Underneath, it is a 1950s Beetle--

Beetle floorpan, Beetle suspension, Beetle engine, Beetle gearbox.

It's got Beetle lights on it.

I've even got a Beetle speedometer and Beetle hubcaps.

It's brilliant!

This is a beach buggy very like the one that Steve McQueen drove in the original Thomas Crown Affair.

And if it's good enough--

Oh, God.

Ha-ha!

I've been joined by the 1970s.

Yes.

James May has built what a beach buggy was, what I've built is what a beach buggy can be...

...if you have a bit of imagination and some purple metal-flake paint.

Ha-ha-ha-ha!

There, I believe, is the start point of our adventure.

What an extraordinary place.

It's amazing, isn't it? I mean, more seals.

What David Attenborough never told us about those is how bad they smell.

Sadly, before our nature documentary could go any further, Richard Hammond emerged from the mist.

Ooh, hello. That's not a beach buggy.

Is it?

Well, I wouldn't call that...

Ah-ha!

Oh, geez.

Ladies and gentlemen, d*ck-tari!

Behold!

What are you wearing?

What are you wearing?

Well, I'm in Africa!

These trousers, did they say in the shop, "I'm afraid they are yellow, sir"?

When you left, they went, "Yes!

20 years we've had those on the hanger!"

Shut up.

And then we must move over to this.

Yeah.

We were told to build beach buggies.

Yes.

Beach buggies.

It's not a beach buggy.

It isn't.

It is a beach buggy.

It isn't a beach buggy. It's got a roof!

There's no Beetle in here at all.

Yes, there is. Beetle engine in there.

OK, this space-frame chassis...

Yeah.

Is it from a Beetle?

No.

These enormous suspension components that don't even fit under the bodywork.

You've got two lots of suspension at the back.

Twin shocks.

Twin shocks?

I like an off-road sort of vibe.

To get here, we had to drive on a beach.

Yeah.

Ours have made it.

I didn't need two lots of rear suspension on mine.

Neither did I.

Look, we were told to come to Africa.

If we'd been told to go to Santa Monica Beach, then this, with its...

...incredibly vivid paint...

That's the most metal flake I've ever seen.

Any beach in the world.

Um...

Hang on, what's that?

That's the engine.

What engine is it?

V8!

I've put a V8 in a beach buggy!

Well, no, you haven't.

You've parked your beach buggy quite close.

It's not in it!

It isn't in it.

No.

You've reversed into a V8, but not quite hard enough.

It's only gone in a third of the way.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to fit a V8 to a beach buggy?

Well, it doesn't fit!

It's obviously impossible.

Exactly, it's impossible.

This is no ordinary V8.

It started out in life as a 3.5 litre V8 from a Range Rover, but I've modified it, so it produces 180 horsepower.

Can I just say, you were doubting the credibility of mine as a beach buggy.

Yeah.

The defining characteristic of a beach buggy is an air-cooled, flat-four Beetle engine.

No, that's not an engine, James.

That's just a fan.

How many horsepower does yours have?

94!

So I have twice as many horsepower.

Shall I tell you something?

They're not in the car, though.

They are, they're near it.

Yes.

It's interesting, isn't it? I mean, that is an entire--

Nothing about that is interesting.

This is a blank canvas onto which you could paint your personality.

Yes.

Yours has got a prolapsed V8 hanging out of its backside and terrible paint.

Mine is a rather magnificent "Daktari"-themed off-roader.

That's got nothing on it!

You can express...

It is a bit boring.

...all your personality, and it's standard.

It's not... What do you mean, standard?

It's a beach buggy.

It's tasteful.

What?

Oh.

The bat sat-phone.

We've got a message from...

Mr. Wilman.

Right, go on.

"Since you're in beach buggies..."

Well, us two are.

"Since you're in beach buggies, you will now drive to the beach."

Uh...

Uh...do you think he's taken leave of his senses?

Well, he was never that good at geography, was he?

No, he wasn't. "You'll now drive to the beach."

Hold on. Oh, no, there's more.

"The beach to which you will drive is located on the crocodile-infested Kunene River at the northernmost point of Namibia, where it meets Angola.

It's 1,000 miles away."

1,000 miles?

1,000.

What we needed at this point was a map, so we decided to head north up the coast and find the nearest town.

Let the journey begin!

And what a journey it would be in these cars, cars that were born in interesting times.

So, it's 1964, the word "teenager" has started to appear in the world's dictionaries, people are listening to new types of music, they're smoking new types of stuff.

And then, in California, the beach buggy arrived!

It was perfect!

Girls and boys, beach barbecues...

The first design criteria was that the front fenders were flat, so you could stand a beer on it.

That's how you design a car!

Jimi Hendrix had a beach buggy and President Nixon didn't.

Tells you all you need to know.

What I really like about the beach buggy is that it's a testament to the ability of the human spirit to triumph.

Because somebody looked at the Beetle and said, "Well, that's the legacy of the world's worst dictator. Let's turn it into a beach car."

After a lonely hour of driving north through the swirling mist, we still hadn't found a town, but we did find something else.

Jesus.

I'll tell you what, he must have been going at a right old lick when he hit the beach.

He must have been.

Right, the sea is there.

That's half a mile away.

I'd say so.

So he got it up the beach, and then sort of did a handbrake turn.

Power-slided it in.

How do you do a handbrake...

How did it get here, seriously?

Can I just say... my nipples are erect.

What, 'cause of this jacket?

No.

Oh.

It's cold.

It is, isn't it?

It's cold.

That's an unwise wardrobe strategy.

Yeah, well, you know, Africa, on a beach, I thought...

So did I.

I'm surprised.

The beach has got the sea haar on it - mist, fog, cold.

If you look over there...

Hm.

...sunshine, blue sky.

Why don't we just go inland...

The coast road.

Find the coast road which will take us to a town.

And that'll be in the sun. That's a better idea.

With a plan worked out, it was time to get moving again.

Oh, dear.

Did you modify the battery as well?

Oh...

It's obviously not charging up.

No.

Because I didn't modify it.

Yeah.

I'll just see if mine works.

Oh, yeah.

Let me just try mine.

Yeah.

Push?

Hm?

Can I have a push?

After the film crew had got me going, I used my massive horsepower to catch the others.

But by the time we were back together again... it was going dark.

The sun, as you can see over my shoulder, has set, and we still haven't found a road.

It's also going to be very, very, very cold.

Lights on.

We have got to find this road.

This is not going to be too clever... in the dark.

I've rather crudely rigged up my torch, wedged in the windscreen rail, in the hope that you can see my last pieces to camera.

Oh, bollocks!

Oh, cold!

Finally, though, it looked like our luck had changed.

Ooh, hello! Hello!

What's that?

It's not a hotel.

No.

It smells of excrement!

Oh, wow, look at this!

There's still, like, plates and cups and saucers and things in here.

I'll tell you exactly what this is.

It's an abandoned mine.

They do mine round in Namibia, don't they?

What do they mine for?

Diamonds.

Diamonds?

Yeah, but they wouldn't have left if there were any.

They obviously left, and not yesterday.

Look, there's no road here, is there?

No.

No.

Apart from anything else, we can't find our way around in the dark 'cause we can't navigate.

Well, I can.

How?

How?

Stars.

No, you can't.

I can.

I can't do very many things, I admit...

...anything, but I can do that.

How do you navigate by the stars?

Uh... find the Southern Cross.

Yeah, but that's really complicated.

Right, do you want to sleep in the excrement mine?

No, this is out.

So, we have to keep going, whether we like it or not, till we find...

We have to, so listen.

I shall find the Southern Cross.

You can't find the Southern Cross with a hammer.

I've found it! Ha! I've found it. It's there.

It's like a kite.

That one there?

Yeah.

It's a kite shape. It's sort of...

Now, you take the long axis, yes?

Yes.

Mm-hm.

And draw an imaginary line through it, down to the horizon.

Yes? Now, you intersect it from a line drawn between two other stars, and where those two imaginary lines meet, directly underneath it is due south.

So if it's those two-- which it is, I'm sure of it-- you draw a line...

Oh, this is a bad idea!

We are now trusting our lives to an orangutan who thinks he's Patrick Moore.

There it is. There's the two stars.

Draw a line...

I'm not getting many directions from you, Jeremy. Is this right?

You're heading a little bit too much to the right.

You need to go left a bit.

Good, good. Oh, I'm so confident.

You two are going to be eating humble pie when the sun comes up.

Despite the confidence of Jeremy Columbus, no road appeared.

Oh, this is grim.

Excuse me.

I've been on the go a very, very long time now.

Guys, I'm sorry. I'm not driving another inch.

I can't do this.

It's three o'clock in the morning.

I'm exhausted.

He does have a point.

The next morning, we woke, having slept on the sand, huddled round our engines for warmth.

You muppet. What's that?

Um...

"Um" what?

I never knew Namibia had two seas.

It doesn't have two seas.

No, it has one massive "cee" in it.

One massive, stupid "cee" that's navigated us back to where we started.

Can I just say...

It wasn't my... I...

Why did we even believe you could navigate by the stars?

You can't even read a compass.

There are two "cees". There's two "cees" here for believing that that "cee" could navigate us.

No, you're right.

I couldn't possibly...

Really, I don't understand that.

Freezing cold, sandpapered on the face...

You've got a coat on.

It's thin. Have you felt it?

I haven't even got a thin coat.

I've only got a T-shirt. Anyway, I'm not going to be competitive with you about who's the coldest.

I'm the coldest!

We're all the lostest.

Never mind. Look, let's not get bogged down with whose fault it was.

There's no being bogged down with it, is there?

It was yours.

We can either go back into the desert to look for a road, or we can just do what we were doing yesterday, and stay on the beach.

At least we know, if we keep the sea on our left, we're going north.

Yes.

That's a fair point.

Let's navigate by the sea.

Yes.

With our new-- well, newish-- plan in place, we set off once more.

So here we are. These are our wheel marks from yesterday.

24 hours of cold, misery... to achieve exactly nothing.

I mean, it is exactly nothing.

But, apart from that and the weather... and Jeremy Clarkson, it's all going really well.

As we continued north, the misery of the previous day was banished by the sheer bigness of our surroundings.

Oh, this is an astonishing place.

I've got a dune the size of Mount Everest to my right, the Atlantic Ocean to my left...

This is absolutely epic.

This is proper beach buggy driving.

Sun's out, sea's there with the surf.

It's like being in the Beach Boys.

Amidst all this loveliness, though, there was one small elephant edging its way into the room.

Chaps, I don't want to have to say this, but is the tide coming in or going out?

Uh... I'm guessing in.

There's no way up the sides of that.

And if the tide comes in that far, which it does, we've had it.

Got to keep moving here.

We cannot afford to get stuck.

With some generous use of the throttle, we managed to get clear of the sea-and-sand-dune pincer movement.

But then we had another problem.

I'd say that was the end of the beach.

How does that just end like that?

It does just end.

That is the end.

And the Namibian government doesn't allow us to drive on the salt pans, and that's what that is.

This meant, according to James, we had only one option.

We've got to go back the way we came.

But if the tide's coming in, that narrow bit will have become impassable.

That's why I think if we see a good opportunity to turn left, like we did last night, we do it.

Are you honestly suggesting we go back in the...

Well, where else can we go?

We'll either drown or starve otherwise.

Right, we've just got to find a bit where we can get inland before the tide comes in.

That is getting closer to that, and when that happens, we've had it.

But as we thundered along, the dunes refused to open up and let us in.

That's the sea!

It's the sea, there!

Oh, it's coming at me!

I still say we can't get out here, look.

No left turn at the moment.

This is where you need a V8!

Oh, sh*t.

Oh, Jeremy's in trouble!

That is not looking good!

Come on, come on. Whoa.

Oh, no.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Not a good place.

Oh, God.

Uh...I'm in the sea.

Because it was a bit of an emergency, my colleagues decided to help for once.

Go.

No.

Is that just spinning?

It's beached under there.

I don't see why I can't push him with that.

All right, then. Try.

All right.

James, count us in.

Three, two, one, away!

Yes!

Right, let's go!

Me getting beached cost us time we never had in the first place, and we were still trapped.

Jesus Christ.

Ah, it's coming in.

Come on, come on, come on.

Come on.

Whoa!

Oh!

Oh, that's bad.

sh*t.

Whoa!

Come on, baby, come on.

Mercifully, the dunes finally started to fall away and we were saved.

And we're through!

We are, we are.

That's a relief.

So nearly got stuck then.

We'd now been on the go for 36 hours, and we were pretty much back where we started from... again.

We were also soaked, frozen, worn out, and because we had no food with us, we were also hungry.

But then Bear Clarkson came to the rescue.

Cold you go and get some driftwood for a fire?

And could you fashion a rudimentary barbecue grill of some sort?

OK. Where did you get the fishing rod from?

It's my whip aerial. It's a beach buggy.

I thought of that.

They're fishing rods.

This is going to make a perfect little fish grill thing, look.

Have you got a fire lit yet?

I thought you were fishing.

I am fishing. My car's fishing.

Look.

Well, is it?

Yeah, look, I've got the rods attached.

It's parked.

What's that?

That's the grill.

So we hold that with the pliers from my multi-tool, cut the fish up, fillet it...

Can you do that? There's no point asking him. He can open a tin...

Can you fillet a fish?

What, is it only fish?

Well, it's the sea!

What did you think I was going to catch, a chicken?

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

No, wait. Yes!

Ha-ha-ha-ha!

While Hammond went off to get more driftwood, James and I set about gutting the catch.

Use his car as the table. There we go.

That's his gut. Look. You've got it.

Yeah, right.

Oh, God. sh*t. Look, it's all gone literally onto his exhaust.

Oh, no. Never mind. Look, I need your help.

Right, saw its head off.

Ah, there we go.

Excellent.

I think, but I'm not sure--

It's gone under his seat.

Oh, no. Has it?

It's all right, I'll get it out later.

Oh, it's done a treat, this.

Look at this, Hammond.

Mm.

Oh, that's all right, isn't it?

Ooh.

It tastes like fish, doesn't it?

OK, does anybody want a beer?

Have you got some?

No.

Oh, you...

That deserves a stabbing.

That is a proper stabbing.

That's properly out of order.

After lunch, we set off once more into the dunes.

Right, so let's keep heading east.

And we must come to a road at some...

There has to be a road.

But, for mile after mile, there wasn't.

It's the Namib Desert.

"Namib" in the local dialect means "big nothing".

It must be the prettiest desert in the world.

It's just a sea of dunes.

Dunes which were getting bigger.

Bloody Nora, look at the size of that!

Engaging 180 horsepower.

Climbing them in our two-wheel-drive beach buggies was becoming tricky.

Come on, you can do this. You can do this!

But by deploying the V8, I was sort of all right.

Yes!

Oh-ho-ho-ho!

Hammond had grippy tyres, so he was all right, too.

Please, make it. Please.

Please!

Ho-ho!

There you go!

However, back in the 1960s...

Come on, little car.

Oh, no, no, no.

No, no.

Stuck?

Yes.

Two problems. Number one, he's put a 90 horsepower engine in it, which actually is probably only 40.

Yeah.

And number two, he will not use full power ever.

Well, he's got a 90 horsepower engine, but a 5 horsepower foot.

And I bet you any money he's saying "I had a misfire."

You've got to push the accelerator all the way to--

I know, but... I know that.

It occasionally has a little misfire moment, and then I lose it.

He said it!

And so the afternoon continued.

The Grunt Machine and the Grit Machine would forge ahead...

There is no way in hell I'm doing this!

Yes!

You star!

...and then there'd be the inevitable radio exchange.

We appear to be a man down, Jeremy.

James May, where are you?

Because we spent so much time waiting for Captain Misfire, we were still in the desert as dusk fell.

And failing light meant it was hard to spot obstacles.

Right, sit rep.

Jesus Christ!

Holy...

Oh, my God!

Oh, sh*t!

Look at it!

Mate, I've got to have a look.

Oh, shitty death...

I locked up. That was just...

Look, he's buried!

You've buried the front.

I was completely locked up.

'Cause I would have gone down that.

Look at it!

My close shave was a reminder that, after dark, these dunes would become very, very dangerous.

It's getting harder and harder to read the terrain now.

Is that a drop? Is that a hill?

Is that going up? Is that a cliff? What is it?

Peril... peril.

Oh, sh*t!

Oh, I think there's a drop off there.

It's just a black abyss.

That could be a huge cliff again.

Eventually, we could take no more, and we had to settle down for a second night around our engines.

We will find a road. There must...

It can't... It can't go on forever, can it?

No.

It has to... There will be a town, a road... something.

Unfortunately, to find salvation, we still had to climb more dunes.

Climb them and then get down the other side.

Oh, my God!

Well, that's just a cliff!

Whoa! Aargh!

Whoa, this is a monster.

Oh! I don't think I can do...!

Whoa-ho-ho-ho!

Whoa-a-a-a-a-a!

Here we go.

All three of us simultaneously...

Holy sh*t.

Oh-h-h-h, sh*t!

Argh-hhh! Ha-ha!

Whoa-a-a-a-a!

I wasn't scared.

Oh, my God.

Guys, this is the biggest yet by a country mile.

Whoa-a-a-a-a-a!

Is that the size of the drop or what's happened to his penis?

Right, then. Let's see what all the fuss is about.

Holy sh*t!

Oh-h-h-h-h!

Phwoar.

And now straighten those wheels, Richard, straighten them, because you've got to go down straight.

Holy sh*t. Oh-h-h-h-h, sh*t!

That is frightening.

Love this desert.

I'm never, ever, ever happier than I am when I'm in a desert.

And this... this is the best desert I've ever been to.

You can never really lose sight of the fact, though, that what it actually is is a big, orange k*lling engine.

Now, a big crest's coming up. No idea.

Gentle rolling hill or massive cliff?

I don't know, Hammond!

Hammond, seriously.

sh*t, he's gone.

Hammond's gone, everyone. Hammond's gone. Big one.

Oh, me.

How the did you get down that?

With my eyes shut!

That was terrifying!

Jesus!

As we continued to head east, the terrain eventually levelled out... which meant we swapped terror for extreme discomfort.

Ah. Oh, God Almighty.

I don't think these cars were actually designed to take this much punishment.

And I know we weren't.

The only thing is, James's car rides lower than this and will be worse.

Argh! Ow!

Ow! Ow! Ow!

Agh!

Soon, the relentless battering started to cause breakdowns.

Sand... Sand in gear shift.

My throttle is jammed wide open, people.

The problem is that every time the air filter, here, turns as I'm driving along-- which it does-- it's jamming the throttle.

What's going on here?

What's up?

The throttle is now jamming fully open all the time.

Oh, problem.

Oh, God.

It is still moving.

Many miles ahead, we'd pulled over for a break from the endless bumps, and James was being very interesting!

The good thing about this hat is you can angle it, like a heliostat, to where the sun's coming from.

Yes, that's true.

But you still look a tit.

Luckily for Hammond, who could do with the company, I was back on the move.

Right, a new style of driving is now required.

This arm for steering, this arm for changing gear, and then another arm for deaccelerating, like so.

Yes!

Accelerate.

Deaccelerate.

Sometimes, if you listen very carefully, you can hear my genius.

Back as a threesome, we continued with our seemingly endless journey to the east.

Just need to find a road now. This is not funny any more.

Enough desert.

I don't want another night in the desert.

I smell pretty bad.

And I suspect that if we manage to find somewhere tonight near civilisation, we should probably have a ceremonial bonfire of the underpants.

In truth, though, I thought we'd be in the desert forever.

But then, late in the afternoon...

I'm looking ahead, and I'm not seeing an endless sea of sand.

I'm seeing green.

Trees! Those are trees and shrubs!

Pylons!

Pylons! That means electricity.

Oh, yes!

Civilisation!

And then, best of all...

Oh, my God.

I honestly thought we had another night of sleeping...

...in the sand.

But, no! Look at it!

Nicest thing I've ever seen.

I could go east, I could go west...

Whichever way you go, it goes somewhere. That's the point.

It's a road, it goes somewhere.

You know what we've just done, don't you?

We've just crossed the Namib Desert in three beach buggies.

We have.

We did.

We did.

There is literally nothing can stop us now.

Admittedly, our crossing had not exactly been as the crow flies, but we had found our road, and that's all that mattered.

Oh, yes!

That's the best thing I've ever seen!

Yes, it is the road to freedom!

What the hell was that?

Something has just exploded at the back of my car.

Oh, dear.

By the time my colleagues had got back to me, I'd worked out what the problem was.

It's really straightforward, OK?

The top bolt has come out of the shock absorber.

Right.

It sh*t up, boinged into the coolant pipe, and three gallons of water have simply burst out, going everywhere except into the engine.

Right.

So all I've got to do is reattach the top bolt... mend the pipe and find three gallons of water... which I shall get from a passing motorist, and I'll be on my way.

Right.

All I could do with a hand with is just lifting the car up so I can reattach the, um...

Yeah. Well, is there anybody here?

There's...

I suppose a motorist will pass eventually.

The one that gives you water will also lift it up for you.

You could just lift it up a little bit.

Or we could go and have a beer.

Or we could go and have a beer.

I hear traffic.

Yes.

We'd better not be here.

I hear traffic.

Yes.

We'd better not be here.

We don't want to interfere when you're trying to talk 'cause we might put them off.

Right.

Somewhere along here there will be a place, and that place will have a bar in it that will contain beer.

Do you have any water?

Huh?

Water.

Because the radiator has blown, so I need just three gallons.

Look, you've got some water there. Just a bucket.

It's an actual water lorry... leaking water, and he won't give me any.

Eventually, I flagged down a local who had water to spare.

Thank you.

And then I got on with the repairs.

That is one reassembled shock absorber.

That's reattached, so that's the cooling system back in one piece.

After an exhausting five-hour drive, Richard and I finally reached a town, which turned out to be Windhoek, and we too were taking on liquids.

Mm.

Back out on the highway, though, things weren't so good.

What I'm driving here - or attempting to drive - is Apollo 13.

There's some air trapped in the system and I've had to make a small hole in the front to get at the radiator.

Bled that, bled all the stuff going into the engine.

This is the header pipe.

Everything is bled, and yet, you do a mile, it overheats.

Another mile, overheats.

Well, we've covered... 20 miles in four hours.

This is the sixth time in 30 miles that's happened.

Whilst my colleagues embraced beer and bed, I steeled myself for the longest, coldest, most frustrating night of my life.

The roads are getting worse.

Honestly, my bones are going to shatter.

Oh, my God!

I've had a great idea.

Oh, no.

Oh, sh*t, it's really high!