Welcome to the SLSLRC!

The South London & Surrey Land Rover Club has been around since the mid nineties. We decided early on that we wouldn’t be an internet club and that we wanted to be a tight-nit, friendly, more personal club. Our rules still state that you can only join the club at one of our meetings. If you fancy coming along and seeing for yourself, please check out the map on the front page and you can always drop me an email at email.slslrc@gmail.com. We are always delighted to meet new people and we hope you may stay and become members.

We are also the club that organise the London to Brighton Land Rover Run which is the biggest and most friendly, not to mention best organised, one day Land Rover event in the country.

Bill Campbell (Chairman)

I wrote the following a couple of years ago. I hope it gives you a flavour of what the club is like. Remember, a Land Rover club is like life, you only get out of it what you put in.

Another Wales Trip

Flat out at 65mph. Foot nailed to the floor, thinking to myself, "what in God's name am I doing?"

It's about 10pm, I've been working all day and I couldn't get away until about 6pm. I'm headed down the M4 trying to meet up with John who is about an hour ahead of me and waiting for me at a service station. Andy and me are making plans, "I'm going to have a steak …. Or maybe a burger. Food! Food!" When we get there the bloody service station is shut! All we get is a frozen sandwich and a packet of Minstrels. To hell with this!

Poor old John and Ben have been waiting for us at this desolate spot, standing around in the garage with the owner probably wondering if they were going to rob the place. We gas up, mount up and head off. Fortunately John knows where he's going and about 40 miles later we are pulling up outside a pub where we know the other club members are ensconced. It's passed closing time but fortunately the landlord has a very civilized attitude towards licensing hours and we are all welcomed, pints put into our hands and a warm alcoholic glow begins to spread inside. It was at this point, when I had a chance to look around at my companions that I came to the unmistakable conclusion that they were pissed as farts. Rosy cheeks, loud voices, raucous laughter, talking nonsense, they had been on the piss since about 5 and it was now getting on for midnight! ……It was going to be a good weekend.

Jason, Brian and Peter had already put up the tent and we settled into domestic bliss, burping, farting [snoring] and taking-the-micky out of Peter, who, it must be said, was as drunk as a skunk and had got to the stage of taking people aside and declaring "You're my best mate!" and making deeply profound statements that nobody could understand. "Pete will you lie down before you fall down for heaven's sake" …and so to bed.

In the morning we gathered together and headed off to Bob's off-road site, which is just round the corner. After a quick chat Bob lead us off up a slippery track that gave some people a problem but we all got up there. Parking up at the top off a shale slope which must have been steeper than 45 degrees we all looked over the top. Bob put up two markers. "Just throw yourselves off here and try to avoid that tree at the bottom" he said…… There was a degree of reluctance. I turned to Andy, "Let's show this bunch of old women how to do it" I said with as much sang froid as I could manage.

Line it up and over the top. Low range first, no problems the shale dug into the tyres, all very safe. One by one most of us tried it but a few thought better of it and went down a shallower slope. On most of the sections there was an alternative route which could circumvent the more extreme bits.

We carried on, tackling some very slippery climbs and drops. Cliff's lack of experience was a stumbling block for him, but as the day wore on he gained more confidence and made better progress. Andy's 90 had transmission problems and it seemed he either had low range or diff lock but not both. This slowed him up a little and there was at least one moment when about eight of us were pushing him up a slope and trying to prevent him falling sideways down a nasty drop.

The terrain seemed to be designed for my 90. Wherever I pointed it, it went. I think the Macho tyres helped. Those on BF Mud Terrains had difficulties. Jason was losing traction and I think he got a bit miffed! Whenever I made a climb [without drama] and he didn't, he started broadcasting on the CB radio his rendition of "Macho macho man, I want to be a macho man!" …. He can be embarrassing sometimes.

You know we have too many Johns in the club. They all have their own nickname, cigarette lighter, satellite etc. Now we have John the nutter in the Disco. He had already demonstrated a significant level of commitment by getting all four wheels in the air jumping up a steep muddy climb, but now we came to a quarry section. After tackling some demanding sections I saw a long steep climb with Alan climbing up and sliding down.

"I can do that," I said to Andy.

Over the CB came Jason's voice.

"Bill, don't even think about it. Getting up the slope is bad enough but you can't see what is on the other side!"

"Jason, what do you mean? It doesn't look that bad!"

"You see that bloody great digger over there? Well that's what they attach the winch to for pulling you out if you're stupid enough to go there!"

Alan gave up and his place was taken by the Disco. 50mph straight up, over the top, mud and Disco bits flying everywhere and suddenly he reappears covered in black mud from the wheels to the windows, huge grin spread across his face. As Jason said later, there wasn't a straight panel left on the car.

We carried on up the hill with Bob in his Range Rover taking detours from the path and going into more extreme bits. Garry followed him and bogged down. I drove round to give him a tow and also bogged up to the axles. Sophie stayed on the track and using two ropes managed to get me out. I then pulled Garry clear. Andy got out and was wandering about looking at grass, sheep, birds, flowers when a huge shout went up. " Andy get out of the way. Watch out for Jason!"

Jason had seen us bog-in, a red mist had descended, he was coming through! Pointing his 90 at the horizon, all 55hp of naturally aspirated diesel screaming, wheels spinning, mud flying everywhere, he hammered through the clinging mud and made it through the section. He confessed later that he had no idea where the car would end up, he just let it have it's head, nailed the pedal to the metal crossed his fingers and went!

We slowly worked our way to the top of the hill and started out across a deeply rutted section. The ground had been ploughed for trees some years previously and the guy who did it must have disliked 90's. The distance between furrows must be exactly 93 inches. If you lost momentum and stopped it was virtually impossible to get moving again. I stopped when the old bus started to overheat [again] and that was that. Stuck fast. Fortunately John [Disco nutter] was able to give me a tug and I started up again. It nearly shook the 90 to bits and if I never drive that section again it will be too soon!

The final section took us to a disused motocross track that we made our way round in various ways both conventionally and otherwise. Unfortunately, on a harmless looking section, Shirley caught a thumb in her steering wheel, spraining her thumb and ripping a nail. Very painful and we all gave her lots of sympathy … except for Alan. There were not many surprises but it was good practise. I tried to concentrate on using the least throttle possible and picking my line carefully. Alan did manage to get himself spectacularly cross-axled and had to be pushed off by a few willing hands , it was very funny, but perhaps you had to be there.

Coming down off the hill with the light starting to go was a little hairy. There was a long slippery descent, pretty steep, which needed some concentration. In the wrong conditions it might have been dangerous but Bob had a good look at it before we attempted it.

We ended the day back at the shale slope we started at, and kept playing until it was too dark to continue. And so back down to the bottom of the hill and a welcome cup of tea from Bob. Garry with the tall Range Rover had to get back home so he set off at once. We went back to the campsite to get ready for the evening celebrations. Unfortunately, Jason had started to feel ill as we were coming off the hill and he started to throw-up when we got back to the tent. So, being good mates …. we left him there and headed off to the pub to eat some very good food and sample the beer, avoiding 'The Reverent James' who we all agreed had a nasty sense of humour and who tends to give you a bit of a runny bottom in the morning.

And in so doing we missed the highlight of the weekend. While we callous lot were boozing it up, Jason had a ministering angel. Shirley looked after his needs. On our return, we found him undressed and put to bed with a hot water bottle. And there was me thinking that Shirley only had eyes for me! Which just goes to demonstrate how fickle women are.

On Sunday morning we all woke up bright and early, especially me whose bed had collapsed under me in the middle of the night. Jason looked much better and had a wry smile on his manly lips.

I hate packing up, but many hands made light work, oh and of course it rained ten minutes before we took down the tent as usual. Andy was first away with the caravan and Shirley's contingent went next, but they only got as far as the pub as we saw them in the car park later. We finally got away and made an uneventful but rather dull journey home. Alan and Garry ran into water pump problems that required recovery but they were taking a different route.

All in all a very successful Wales trip and I'm sure we will return to Bob's place next year.