Ardennen Rennen Part Deux
Words by Steve Walker, Photography by Chris De La Marsche and Ned Faux
Two years ago, Ned and I let ourselves, our friends and the country down by posting a poor showing at the Ardennen Rennen. In our defence, we suffered mechanical mishaps which attributed to the dismal final position and it had nothing to do with hangovers, sleep deprivation, going way too fast and missing vital turns, or spending time looking for the exhaust parts that fell off.
Two years on, during the last weekend of September, we were back. And this time we had a master plan. We would try harder. Drive slower. And I wouldn’t get drunk, or snore, or forget to fix the car.
Once again we were in car 50, Myles Yarney’s black 1958 Okrasa-powered Vintage Speed inspired racer – which graced the last issue of Hayburner. Once again we joined Myles and Darren Claggett in the Okrasa-powered Oval, car 49 from the front cover trio. The more recent addition “Viking” Oval was given a new driver/co-driver team (well, compared to us oldies they are new). HR Autoworks’ Jake and his partner Kirby were thrown in at the deep end, and the three-car team was ready.
I am confident that neither Jake nor Kirby had any idea of what lay ahead. After all, it’s not like any other VW event I can think of. And when they showed up at an early morning Eurotunnel start in what looked like ski gear, we did wonder if the vintage dress code memo had landed. They were just cold, and a bit deaf due to the Sebring-style exhaust and distinct lack of sound deadening. They were also partially overcome with petrol fumes! The filler cap had failed, and in doing so had filled Kirby’s case, melted part of her boots, and soaked the vintage dress code gear the pair had packed. We really felt for them, so kept the “can you smell petrol?” jibes to a minimum. Actually we were pretty merciless, but team car 51 would get their revenge. In other news, the Viking car also decided to start when it felt like it, so seeing Kirby pushing it became the norm. Before anyone starts thinking we were a bit off for not shoving the thing, the issue was intermittent, and by the time any of us realised, Kirby was usually out and had the car started within a meter or so. The pair had bump starting mastered, but I guess living with Jake it’s part of the territory.
Ned took the first stint behind the wheel, and the 200-mile drive from Calais to Aywaille was fun but generally uneventful. Apart from the petrol-soaked clothes, that is, and Ned grabbing a service station salad bowl pick-n-mix style lunch. In his haste to cram in as much as possible, and not noticing the price was calculated by weight, he created the world’s most expensive salad. I think it was 19 euros or something, but I was laughing way too much to be sure.
Upon arrival, priority one was a scoot into town to locate a launderette. While Jake and Kirby sorted their clothes out (three washes and 50 euros later), I started to sort the ’58 out. While it was ok on the motorway, it was as flat as a pancake elsewhere and struggled a bit. We were a day early, with an empty car park, a lot of time and plenty of tools. But no timing light. This isn’t really the schoolboy error it may seem, as the 30hp-based Okrasa is a simple beast as far as timing goes. But for some reason the ancient Vintage Speeder’s 010 distributor of choice needed a helping hand. I advanced (guessed) it to the point where it ran well without detonation, and that was that. It felt like a different car, not a fast car by modern or even late VW standards, but that’s not the point. VS cars are born of an era when most people coveted a small motorbike or old pre-war wreck. Cars were fragile and slow, and the power hikes we take for granted merely pipe dreams. Any reliable extra hp, however negligible by todays standards, was celebrated, and we know how. Amateur racers paved the way, leaving behind the historic sporting legacies and courses we were about to honour.
As the other entrants and teams began to settle into the hotel and car park, the whole experience started to kick in: 32 teams, some familiar faces from the previous event, some first timers, all sharing a themed jump back into a simpler time. Some amazing cars – most of which, and let’s be honest here – we wanted to trounce.
Reliability wise, Jake had a minor gear oil leak, but other than the aforementioned timing tweak, a tighten of the fan belts and a splash of oil, all three cars required nothing more than petrol and determination all weekend. That’s over 1000km, with a big chunk of those taking place on the challenging Ardennes back roads.
It is not a race – a fact that eluded my tiny mind last time, and also that of a few other newcomers this time, notably the PR Services team of Paul Smith and Phil Jarvis, who emulated our feat of the previous event. If the objective was to make up as many places as possible, they would be world champions. But it isn’t, and as such they were a stone cold, but very happy, last. It’s impossible not to have fun, despite being lost, or last, or anything in between, on the Ardennen Rennen.
The actual objective is to complete a set course devised by real experts in this kind of navigation rally. Each team is presented with a road book, containing basic icons and distances set in numbered blocks for each turn, direction and landmark of note. Each car sets off at a different time interval. This forms the basis, and the planned predetermined course laid out in the book has a total set time allocated to it. The idea is to arrive back at the start/finish line as close to your total time as possible. It is compiled with speed limits in mind, and we are encouraged not to go stupid when trying to make up time after going wrong. And going wrong is an inevitability. No ifs, no buts, you will mess up. Of course car 50 had a renewed determination and resolve to succeed. We didn’t go mad. Ned was on point with the road book directions and the car was running well. However, when another Rennen car catches up or comes into view it requires a level of self-restraint not to put your foot down. Unfortunately I do not possess self-restraint.
Saturday is the shorter course, of around 104km, devised to ease competitors into the world of vintage navigation through the historic towns and villages that have echoed to the sounds of racing for decades. If you have been to Le Bug show at Spa, you know the basic area and terrain we are dealing with, but while the book does utilise some sections of the old circuit, our directions are far from straightforward.
Points mean prizes, or might it be the other way around? So some time regularity sections are added to the mix, one on the Saturday (with a bonus available for answering a question specific to a point on the road book) and two time sections on Sunday. The idea is to drive for a set distance at a predetermined speed, 41kmh or 47kmh, etc. Some teams have specialist Haldex-style trip meters and computer aids. We had Ned’s phone, and I drew a line on the speedo with a red sharpie. Sticking to 41kmh for 6km may sound simple, until you factor in hairpin turns and downhill gradients, etc. Jake and Kirby even encountered a load of horses crossing during their regularity test, but still manged to do ok. I think the penalties were a point for every second over the allocated time at the allocated speed, and 2 points for every second under the allocated time for each section. I wasn’t really listening when it was explained in the drivers’ meeting – after all, I’m only the driver. I don’t think Ned listened either, and I don’t think arriving 3 minutes early at the trial section was a good look! It would explain a thing or two about our overall points score if we were penalised for the early arrival, but the reality is probably down to a pen line on a speedo that reads low anyway (something we realised on our way home when comparing with GPS).
During the last event in 2023 we missed the bonus question completely. This time (being prepared) it was noted that a series of facades down a street in Stavelot had a specific name. The large heads with prominent noses were on several buildings and the road soon filled with Oldspeed cars of all varieties while the teams scrambled to work out the name of the bizarre decorations. It became apparent that asking strangers who can’t speak English wasn’t a good strategy. Instead we asked Jake and Kirby.
They had asked AI, and after a little persuasion shared the name “Gilles” as the answer. Now AI may be your business tool of choice, but it’s a load of crap when it comes to weird local caricatures. When it came to the results, just like Eurovision, AI scored nil points. The correct name was something Belgian and weird. I don’t know if anyone not Belgian got it right, but I know Myles and Darren put Pinocchio as the answer. Plainly wrong! I mean, how can a wooden boy who lies and gets eaten by a whale be anything to do with a medieval Stavelot caricature? Well, somehow they got half of the points available for Pinocchio, as it looked a bit like Pinocchio. By that rationale we could have written Stalk, Heron or fucking snowman’s head, but I’m not bitter.
After a first day’s activities, we settled down with the other competitors for a nice evening meal together, still adorned in period costume, in a dining area decorated with vintage race-inspired artefacts, posters and an ambiance befitting a bygone age. With the 2025 Ardennen Rennen came an influx of UK-based teams. No longer were we the sole representatives of these Isles. So we did what Brits have done for millennia, and flocked together on one table. We swapped race stories, laughed hysterically and took the piss, especially as Jake continually doctored pictures of us on his phone with some fat face app. The food was fantastic, served in a buffet format with the opportunity to be greedy if needy. Even Myles found something to satisfy his elitist palette (that’s picky to you and me). It should be noted, I didn’t get drunk.
The day takes it out of you. Driver fatigue used to be a thing in the UK TV public information warnings of the 70s and 80s, and despite the jovialities it’s fair to say its prevalence on our table was palpable. Therefore it wasn’t long before we all retired, ready for an early start and the main day of action to begin. It should be noted I didn’t snore.
The day was to comprise a morning session, a break for lunch, and then a visit to a motorsport and town museum in Stavelot, before the last stint, a drive of the old Spa track and eventually back to the finishing point. After breakfast and a brief drivers’ meeting to note some revisions to the road book, we all grabbed a well-stocked lunch hamper and assembled at the start/finish area, waiting to be flagged off for the day at 2 minute intervals.
Having established that as the driver I don’t pay much attention, our start time was quite high up in the field of 32 cars. I believed this was based on us doing very well on the Saturday but belief is subjective. Jake and Kirby were immediately behind us, so that meant the novices were either storming it, or equally as bad. 175 kilometres and hours later we would find out.
The weather gods were once again benevolent, and we were buzzing along quite nicely, doing our thing through the stunning Ardennes landscape. You would be excused for thinking it’s a doddle, this book-deciphering lark; however, there is a degree of devilment in the road book creation, and some sections cause immense confusion. It’s easy to second guess your decisions, easy to get caught up following other competitors you believe are going the right way, and easy to overshoot turnings completely. In each case you are screwed. You can be screwed for miles, whole towns or just massive chunks of time. It can be as frustrating as it is funny, going around and around, seeing the same competitors again and again, also plainly dumbfounded. This happens regularly, catching out even the most seasoned teams. To compound the above you can just misread a distance notification while bouncing around on some of the unmade roads. This is something we did a couple of times, second guessing a direction because we hadn’t seen a radar trap sign which was 3km further than we thought. One mistake fries your brain; two can melt it completely. The only answer is to retrace your steps back to a point where it makes sense, follow the distance prompts and try again. At this point I will apologise to the errant farmer who had cars from the past turning around in his yard, and one car actually carry on through his farm until there was nowhere else to go. Well done, Ned, it was worth a try.
Occasionally you are travelling in a group of other Renneners; at other times you are on your own. It’s strange. We are all on the same course, but when you see someone going in the opposite direction it can be a bit demoralising. I feel we generally did well on the sections before lunch, even if the time regularity trials are still some dark art thing we just can’t work out. *See previous slow speedo reference as a good excuse for mediocracy.
It should be noted, at the last event we were so far behind, all the cars had left when we finally limped into the lunch area. This time we were on it!
At the lunch break all the competitors settled down and enjoyed the well-stocked hampers, containing cheeses, various cold meats and preserves, a choice of artisan breads, some fruit, cakes and various beverages. Food of high quality, well presented and in keeping with the bygone age theme. There was also a nice salad included, not as extensive as Ned’s greedy bowl from Friday, but it was hard to tell as we managed to spread most of it over the back seat long before the lunch stop. Apparently we weren’t the only ones. I’m reliably informed that Myles was still finding errant salad detritus in his car a week after the event.
I genuinely believed we would do well after lunch, but Ned – being Ned – picked up some Blair Witch-esque horror marker someone had placed at the edge of the river we were lunching by. It was a bit spooky, and anyone who has ever seen any horror film knows you don’t touch that shit. I made him put it back where he found it and hoped for the best.
Approximately 10 minutes later it was our time to leave (lunch being 40 mins calculated after your initial morning start time and distance/time to the lunch stop). We were behind an early 60s Ghia piloted by the all-female team, one of many cars entered by the Feller Services folks from France. Whether it was irony or Ned’s Witch hex is open to debate, but as we sat patiently behind them waiting to be flagged away, they reversed into us! They didn’t acknowledge it either, so for various reasons I decided to dispatch them asap. We soon zipped past, went too fast and made a wrong turn. Karma.
The next stop came after an hour and a half. Yet another speed regulation to try and scrape through, then a nice stop at the Museum in Stavelot. The picturesque setting adjacent to the old abbey’s 90 meter high arch in a large medieval courtyard soon filled up with the Rennen cars. Mostly pre-’67, the field consisted of predominately Vintage Speed-inspired Beetles, Porsche 356s, a couple of 911s, a brace of Ghias including Lowlights, a nice Notchback and a wicked ’52 split dash crotch cooler Cabrio, rarer than a Hebmüller, in beautiful condition and scooting around the Ardennes with determination.
The final stint saw the greatest road book confusion event of the whole rally. Everyone, it seemed, struggled with one particular short set of directives. The resulting carnage saw cars here there and everywhere, as nobody seemed able to work out the correct route. We took every option to no avail. Went back to a point we knew, and still messed up. Again, and again, and again. We drove up and down, and round and round. We followed Jake and Kirby. Jake and Kirby followed us. Then as if by magic we fluked it and were finally on the right track.
After all this nonsense our times were surely diabolical, but it was a great surprise to learn that we could make it back to the finish point very close to our target driving time of just over four hours. In fact we ended up driving round the roundabout close to the hotel around 10 times before heading through the finish line bang on time. It should be noted that we didn’t handbrake the car through the line backwards this time.
All that remained was to park up, have a complimentary beer and welcome the other teams home. Pretty soon we congregated in the hotel bar. Points and positions having been calculated, the results and prize giving were underway.
The big news for us was that we had improved massively from the flat-out shambles of 2023, but not enough to top Myles and Darren who scooped first in the Vintage Speed class and second overall. We didn’t even top the novices in car 51 who stopped to take selfies and TikTok videos. Or another novice Toby Hoath in his barely completed Oval, navigated by son Harry who was celebrating his 18th birthday. Of course we could have won if Ned hadn’t touched that Witch hex thing, or AI wasn’t stupid, or if the car had a steering wheel that wasn’t half way into the back seat. But in truth, the cliché is that the real win is just taking part.
Spending a long weekend with like-minded souls, in a virtual time warp with these fantastic old cars competing around and along the historic race routes of the past is an unbelievable privilege. It is impeccably well thought out and, as Ned says, perhaps the most fun you can have in a Vintage Volkswagen? I’m saying nothing, other than that once again we must thank Myles for not only entering a three-car team, but for organising every aspect and, most importantly, allowing us miscreants access to his precious cars and to be part of something uniquely special.
Obviously as team GB it’s a fair old jaunt home, and the three black Vintage Speed cars didn’t miss a beat. We all even managed to be together on the Eurotunnel return. We shared jokes and anecdotes as we had done four days earlier, and this time the talk was of timed sections, wrong turns, other racers, and how we would do better in two years’ time.
All that is left is to thank Freddy, Mike, the Boss, and everyone behind the scenes who make this biannual event so magical and memorable. And, of course, all the entrants from all over Europe and their fantastic and diverse interpretations of the Vintage Speed ethic.
