Right six through dip, braking. Punch in the clutch pedal and shift down to second gear. Turn in hard, acute right, caution post. Up to third. Left two long tightens into left one long. Listen to the mud slap against the undercarriage.
Up to fourth, right three over crest jump maybe. Feel the steering go light in your hands as the car briefly goes airborne. Shift up again to fifth, right six long…
…
When I was a schoolkid, if you had a Subaru Impreza it was a big thing. As it happened, there was somebody who lived near me who had one, a ‘Bugeye’ WRX STi in proper World Rally Blue with the classic gold BBS wheels.
Every single weekday morning on my walk to school I would pass it without failure. For the most part it remained completely stationary in the seven years I continued my daily ritual. Clearly, its owner wasn’t in the habit of awakening before the bell had rung, but for me, just looking at it was enough.
It was exactly like the cars my heroes had driven, from the huge rear wing to the scoop which rises out of the bonnet like Hokusai's wave. All that was missing was the yellow livery on the sides, but otherwise it was near identical, down to the inimitable patter of the engine, which could be heard beating away for a good 300 yards before you could see the car on the rare occasion you got to witness it in motion.
Then, around the early 2000s, the names Colin McRae and Richard Burns were still fresh in the memory of all and legions of young rally fans, myself included, will remember staring transfixed at the TV, enthralled by the magic of these drivers and the flame-spitting blue and gold cars that they drove.
For a great many people, the Impreza is the definitive rally car despite many great cars having come before, and indeed after it. For rally fans of a certain age, the Impreza was an icon. It was theicon.
Yet, back then, if you wanted a 300-horsepower car that had four-wheel drive that was still affordable enough for the everyman, you really had a choice of either the WRX STi or its Mitsubishi rival, the Lancer Evolution.
It’s a sign of how far things have come that the Evo is now dead, and that you can buy a Focus or a Golf with as much power, with as many wheels driven and for a similar price. Some say the STi now seems a bit of a dinosaur, a product of long-gone era, and that the World Rally eXperimental badge no longer means what it used to. Has the legend been tarnished?
That’s the question which brings me to mid-Wales on a cloudy Thursday morning, just days before the start of the 2016 Dayinsure Wales Rally GB. The iconic Sweet Lamb Complex has been a mainstay of the event for a number of years, and the owner very kindly gave me permission to come down and have a poke about.
In my pocket is the key to the latest Subaru WRX STi, and if there’s any better place on earth to test the true pace and ability of the Impreza’s modern incarnation, I’d like to hear about it.
Nestled right in the beating heart of Welsh rally country, Sweet Lamb offers some of the most high-adrenaline views in the entire WRC calendar. The iconic Myherin and Hafren stages are only a matter of minutes away, and the complex features more than 20 miles of challenging Welsh gravel, along with jumps, two water splashes and a huge ‘bowl’ area for flat-out sideways action.
I’m greeted at the entrance by Jon Bennett Evans who, when he’s not busy farming sheep and cattle, runs the complex and hosts testing events for rally drivers and teams who want to sharpen their skills on some of Wales’ most notorious stages.
For rally fans of a certain age, the Subaru Impreza was an icon. It was theicon.
Tomorrow, the first rally teams will arrive at Sweet Lamb to start shakedown prior to Rally GB, but today the only other living beings I’ll be sharing the stages with are some of the 30,000-strong bouquet of pheasants which roam the hillsides along with half a dozen game hunters who pay big money to keep said pheasant population in check. In other words, I’ve got nigh-unlimited access. I can scarcely believe my luck.
Jon hops into his pickup and leads the way from his farmhouse along a couple of dusty tracks to the main Sweet Lamb area. I start to jot down imaginary pacenotes in my mind, right four over crest and that sort of thing. On the way in, a couple of hikers spot us and excitedly shout and wave as the Subaru rumbles past. They must think this is a real rally car and I’m a real rally driver; even now, the STi still has the looks and the power to turn heads.
Yet after a solid three hours of motorway schlep my buns are well and truly numbed, and as fantastic as the car has been, so far the drive down hasn’t been overly fantastic. When you’re not on it, the STi can sometimes feel like a bit too much car for the road; you barely breach the surface of what it can do on the motorway, and I can tell that both myself and the car are weary and ill at ease with each other.
So, before I head out on the stage, Jon opens up the workshop to allow me a few brief minutes of respite. I must say, the car looks good in what seems like its natural environment, surrounded by posters and memorabilia from rally events past.
Give or take a few bits, the STi looks more or less the same as it’s ever been. Just like that old Bugeye, it’s still got that delightfully offensive rear wing and the vicious bonnet scoop. The interior’s still a bit cack too, but then it’s always been a bit cack.
But above all, the best thing about the Impreza WRX STi of old was the fact that it was a raw and undiluted product of WRC stock. Apart from the gearbox and the interior fittings, the rest of the car was virtually the exact same as its rally counterparts.
The one thing I am slightly disappointed by is the fact Subaru has since swapped the old coffee can exhaust, large enough to swallow one of Jon’s pheasants whole with room to spare, for a quad tailpipe system. I expect it’s to make it look more modern and contemporary, but I think it just looks a bit Hot Wheels.
Anyway. It still sounds good, with the same inimitable budda-budda-budda sound from the boxer engine, which rises to a deep, chest-beating roar when you approach the limiter.
While Jon goes to check on one of his tractors, I allow myself a sneaky rev or two inside the workshop to hear the exhaust note bounce off the walls. Stuff your V8s or your flat-sixes, to me there’s no better sound right now than the downright filth of Subaru’s boxer four as the spark plugs ignite and the engine snorts into life.
If you’ve never watched any video footage of the WRC-spec rally cars running at full whack on Sweet Lamb I’d highly recommend it. But, if you need any more confirmation of just how difficult the Welsh terrain can be, all you have to do is glance at some of the signatures scribbled on the workshop’s walls.
Jimmy McRae, Dani Sordo and Olympian-turned-racing driver Sir Chris Hoy are just some of the greats you’ll find on there. Visitors are reminded that not just anybody can sign it, however, you have to earn the right. I’d ask Jon what the requirements are, but I’m afraid that I won’t like his answer.
There’s even one from Ben Collins with a quick side note stating: “The Stig, Sweet Lamb survivor…”. Eep. If even the mighty former Stig counts himself as barely having survived Sweet Lamb, how on earth would I fare? One way or the other, it was time to find out.
Whoomph goes the exhaust as the Subaru thunders into life, that bear-with-a-cold rumble billowing out the back. The Complex itself is comprised of a sprawling rabbit warren of gravel tracks that wind their way through the Welsh hillside, and Jon points out the exact route that this year’s WRC competitors will follow. Seems like that’s a sensible place to start, so that’s 150 past barn into acute left.
I’m running on standard road rubber today and the car’s riding on its stock factory setup, so I can’t push it as hard as a full gravel-spec rally car, but then right now I don’t really want to either.
I’ve got no co-driver to warn me what’s coming up ahead and so one wrong decision and I’m off the side.
The stage is fraught with hazards on all sides, from steep drops off sheer hillsides to thousands upon thousands of razor sharp rocks strewn across the surface and the occasional pheasant standing stubbornly in the middle of the road, something which will turn out to be something of a recurring problem throughout the day.
I’ve got no co-driver to warn me what’s coming up ahead and so one wrong decision, one left five that turns out to be a left four or unforeseen feathery antagonist and I’m off the side. That’ll be goodbye to the Subaru and, with no roll cage, quite possibly goodbye to me as well.
On tarmac, the STi is a real event to drive. Partly that’s due to the power, of which there’s plenty. The car uses the same EJ25 engine that Subaru’s had in the WRX STi for the best part of a decade, and which still makes a meaty 296bhp and 407Nm of torque in its stock format.
Partly, it’s also due to the unshakeable traction. On the road, the WRX STi more than rival cars like the Golf R and Focus RS for sheer grip, clinging hard to the road with a cleaner turn-in and better body control than any STi before it. Left three cut into flat over big jump.
But a lot of what makes this car in particular such a beast is the turbocharger. Few turbo cars these days have such a monumental wait for the turbine to spool up, and the sheer neck-snapping boost and tiny gear ratios make for a vivid feeling of hanging on by your fingernails at the best of times.
Driving on smooth asphalt, it’s an absolute blast. On loose gravel, it’s terrifying. Staying on top of the boost and timing your shifts is hard work enough, but when you realise that one ill-timed boot of the throttle could send you hurtling off the edge of a hill, I’m starting to wish I’d packed the brown trousers.
Still, I’m holding on and despite initial trepidation I think I’m starting to enjoy myself. The top layer of the road surface is all loose gravel and sharp rocks, but underneath it’s mud and gravel packed more densely. It makes for a constantly-changing grip dynamic, requiring all your attention as the wheels claw out the loose stuff and then suddenly find purchase. Right three, caution slippery.
Turn in keenly and you can feel the back briefly slither out, but the sheer traction of the four-wheel drive prevents too much yaw and quickly brings the rear back into line. It’s a real hoot tackling these gravel tracks, but I still feel like I’m a long way from the car’s true potential. Left six long into right four tightens over crest.
I’ve had a couple of runs of the stage now, and I feel like I’m starting to get to grips with the gravel, or rather with the lack of said grip. Hurtling down the long right-hander that leads to the bowl area, which is all flat and all dirt, I decide I can afford to get a bit more handsy with the Scoob.
Traction control off. Flat on the throttle, steer hard right and little on the brakes to shift the weight forward. Flick the car left and get back on the throttle and the STi comes alive, carving a graceful arc through Sweet Lamb’s muddy flatland before the lock winds off and the Subaru snorts onward. Now this is what I came for.
The grip from all four wheels is mighty, and even if you’ve watched the greats on TV and so think otherwise, it resists oversteer in all but the most extreme circumstances, preferring instead to just push on ahead with a slight whiff of understeer.
Even with the adjustable diff, which lets you push more power to the front wheels for more grip or to the back for a more rear-wheel drive feeling, set all the way back, it’s surprisingly hard to provoke.
You really have to roll your sleeves up and proper muck in to get the most from it, and I love that about it.
Not very McRae perhaps, but as I’ve come to find out in the time that I’ve had it, this is a car that requires a fair bit of muscle to properly enjoy. You really have to roll your sleeves up and proper muck in to get the most from it, and I love that about it.
It’s not one of these nouveau hatches - you know the ones I mean - which get sideways at the touch of a convenient button, it’s a drivers’ car which demands to be driven, really driven.
And let me tell you, once you do get it sideways, particularly on the loose stuff, it’s a riot. Other cars can give you that hero feeling straight out of the box, but no Drift Mode can feign a hero feeling well deserved, as the Subaru rotates into a proper WRC-style four wheel drift, the front wheels clawing their way directly towards the apex while flumes of mud and gravel scatter from all four corners.
From here on, both car and driver have hit their stride. The harder I push the Subaru the harder it gives back, and I feel like I’m at last truly tapping into that rallying DNA that made the original Impreza Turbos the icons that they are, and which still lives on in their most recent descendant.
The pheasant hunters have since packed up and headed home, as have their quarry, and I’ve long overstayed the time I told Jon I’d spend here, though I’m hoping he won’t mind too much. As the last dregs of sunlight disappear behind the hillsides, I’ve finally found what I’ve come for.
Back in the days of 18-month waiting lists for cars like the Impreza P1, there was little else on the road that offered quite as much excitement. The world has changed a lot since, and yes there are cars that are faster, that accelerate harder, that have more advanced setups, better engines and better refinement, but right now there’s nothing on earth I’d rather be driving.
Left three over jump into right six through water, caution left four, gate on exit. In this moment, I’m not a journalist trying to find inspiration for a story. I’m an 11-year old boy, one who stares transfixed by heroes like Colin McRae and Richard Burns. One who stops by a blue and gold Impreza every day on his way to school. Right five, don’t cut, rocks inside into flat over crest.
