October 13, 2006 - GALLON JUG, Belize - Despite low-range selected and Terrain Response dialed in for mud and ruts, the gas pedal of our Land Rover Range Rover Sport Supercharged is matted to the floor, but we still aren’t budging. Spinning our mud-packed tires, we actually start sliding backwards on an incline in a rutted two-track called Camp 6 road, deep in the western Belizean jungle about five kilometres from the Guatemalan border. When the “Go! Go! Go!” cry screeches over the walkie-talkie from the Range Rover HSE coming up hard on the road from behind us, the consensus in our truck is that backward progress is “not good”. Suddenly, from behind, the charging truck’s headlights emerge from the clutches of the intensely green jungle foliage like the eyes of a hungry jaguar looking for lunch, the occupants seeking their own forward momentum as they have a third Land Rover attached to a tow strap. With over 5,000 kilograms of Land Rovers filling our rear views quicker than anyone’s comfort zone, our Range Rover Sport SC, after some serious wheel wiggling to get its tire’s sidewalls some grip in the deep mud (that looks like and has the consistency of chocolate cake batter), we finally get a modicum of traction, crab crawl forward maybe 30 metres and avoid being rear ended, when “Stop! Stop! Stop!” crackles across the radio.



Now with only green foliage in our mirrors, it’s obvious that the two tethered Land Rovers chasing us—the two last trucks in our jungle caravan—have been sucked into the quagmire of the so-called road for the umpteenth time today. It’s only late afternoon, but the combination of sun-blocking jungle canopy and early sunsets here near the equator mean we can’t leave them behind to the inevitable darkness. Plus, we have to rendezvous with the Belizean Defense Force for our armed escort required when visiting this close to the dodgy Guatemalan frontier. Despite our desire to keep moving up the hill, and eventually back to civilization, we have to stop, wait for the “Go! Go! Go!” squawk on the radio, and do it all again. And again, if need be.

Welcome to off-roading, Land Rover style.

The Ford-owned British company recently decided that a few days in the heart of the Belizean jungle would be a better way to show off the extreme capabilities of their lineup of luxury sports-utility-vehicles—from the LR3 to the new Range Rover Sport to the big daddy Range Rover—than, say, traipsing over some dusty Muskoka cottage back roads.



Bordering Mexico in the north, Guatemala to the west and south and the Caribean Ocean to the east, with only 280,000 citizens spread out over 22,790 square kilometres, Belize is like one big small town. Think subtropical Prince Edward Island, without the Tim Horton’s, and you get the vibe.

Known for its Caribbean resorts sprinkled along a barrier reef, the longest in the Western Hemisphere attracting snorlers and scuba divers from around the world, that’s not the Belize Land Rover had reconaisanced for us.

The thinking was that if the Belizean jungle is challenging enough for the British army to practice jungle warfare, it’s harsh enough for testing the mettle of Land Rovers.



“Some of the toughest portions of the [Land Rover sponsored] Camel Trophy [endurance races] have been run though here,” explained Tim Watson, Vice President of Communications, Land Rover North America, “and frankly, we needed to up the ante, so to speak, as to what our vehicles are really capable of off-road compared to some of our newer competition.”

Upping the ante in this small Caribbean country didn’t seem to be much of a problem.

Recent record rainfalls wreaked havoc on sweated-over agendas and an already fragile sub-tropical environment with a road system that is only about 5% paved. Land Rover Canada’s Barbara Barrett’s pre-trip recommendation to “bring your sense of adventure” now seems a trifle bit of an understatement.



After the first day’s nine hours of snatching and winching our caravan of Land Rovers over the poisonous bug and plant infested Camp 6 road’s overgrown ancient Mayan agricultural terraces—averaging a little over one kilometre per hour—the second day’s trek over twisty washed-out, boulder strewn rural roads to the ancient Mayan ruins at Caracol seemed like, well, a walk in a city park.

Finding the limits of adhesion, getting a feel for the steering, vehicle weight transfer and braking limits are just as important at off-road walking speeds as at 100-km/h on-road.

That’s where the alphabet soup’s worth of electronic aids that are standard on every Land Rover are a real boon to off-road driving novices (re namby-pamby auto scribes).



A standout feature is Land Rover’s Terrain Response, a centre console dial that lets you choose one of five terrain types—from on-road driving to snow, mud, sand and rocks—and adjusts the height of the air suspension, throttle sensitivity, traction controls and, for all I know, boils you a nice pot of tea.

Next time you see a new Land Rover stuck in line at a Starbucks drive-through, think of the extremes of Belize. It’s hard to imagine any other production vehicle that could withstand such a beating, and yet still coddle you like a luxury sedan as our convoy of Land Rovers did for those few days in the jungle.

- John LeBlanc, Publisher, www.straight-six.com



© National Post 2006. This article originally appeared in The National Post's Driving.