Cold Comfort
Wheels Magazine 
May, 2007
The year was 1979 or 1980, Juha Kankkunen can't remember exactly which. But he does remember that it was at night, after 10pm, and in the middle of the seemingly interminable winter that wraps Finland in its icy embrace for around six months of every year. The young Finn was pushing to complete an ice-racing circuit on the frozen surface of a lake near his family home. It was a chore he'd done many times before, just not normally at night. Suddenly the noise of cracking beneath the tractor's wheels - a constant companion when heavy machinery operates on ice - changed its timbre.
Before Juha's brain could register what was happening, the ice collapsed and, within seconds, the tractor and its driver began sinking into the freezing water. Juha knew he had to move quickly, but as he leapt from the driver's seat he realised with horror that his foot was caught… For a moment the terrifying prospect of being dragged to the bottom crossed his mind. But he struggled, desperately, and eventually freed himself.
Then, somehow managing to stay afloat despite his heavy work boots and thick layers of clothing, he hauled himself up onto the ice and staggered the 2km home. Soaking wet, and with the mercury at minus-30°C, his clothes frozen so stiff that he could barely move his limbs, he must have looked like some creature from Finnish folklore as he stumbled towards his mother through the gloom.
Realising this iceman was her own flesh and blood, she went into emergency mode, immersing him in a warm bath and gently peeling off his frozen clothing. Still, it took several more days in a local hospital before Juha's frozen body was back up to temperature.
Had the lady in the lake, and not his mother, reached for Juha Kankkunen that frigid night, the world would have prematurely lost one of its brightest motorsport stars. Kankkunen had made his World Rally Championship debut just a year or so prior, in 1978, and would subsequently leave his emphatic stamp on the sport, winning four world rally championships between 1986 and 1993.
Such a life-threatening experience might be enough to make most men swear off ice forever, but not Juha Kankkunen. While his competitive rally days are now behind him, and these days he takes a break from the worst of the northern winter at his adopted home in Monaco, he retains strong ties with his homeland, including owning his own ice-driving school.
It's there at the Juha Kankkunen Driving Academy, situated near Kuusamo, 660km north of the Finnish capital, Helsinki, that I meet the former rally great. It's late January, and rolls of clouds hug a wintry landscape characterised by vast tracts of pine and spruce forest, and some of the country's 188,000 lakes - most frozen solid.
But, as Juha Kankkunen later explains over a cup of coffee, there are ice lakes and there are ice lakes, and we've travelled this far north of Helsinki because the prevailing Siberian weather patterns equate to better, thicker ice. Even so, the window for safe ice driving is a mere two to three months, and not every lake is suitable, so Juha and his team have had to do their homework to find some that are. This is good news, given that a handful of other journalists and myself are in Finland for Bentley's 'Power On Ice' winter driving programme, and I for one have no desire to relive Juha's icy plunge.
Next morning, after a breakfast of yoghurt, dark breads and cheese, we load up in a fleet of VW Touaregs for the 20-minute drive to Juha's chosen lake. The digital thermometer on the Touareg's dash indicates minus-24°C outside as we cruise through the snap-frozen landscape.
At the lake, seven gleaming Continental GTs and an Arnage are arranged in front of a trio of teepee-style hospitality tents. I calculate that's around three million bucks' worth of precious metal sitting on ice, and joke that I hope the spring thaw doesn't come early. An earnest young Finn reassures me that Juha's team takes regular core samples to determine the ice thickness, and that there's 50-60cm of solid ice underfoot.
We're soon split into groups and I team up with a rangy Brit, rugged up like the rest of us to resemble the Michelin man. We're adopted in turn by another Brit, a personable bloke named Peter Barnes who introduces himself as our driving instructor.
Not surprisingly, Pete is a fairly handy wheelman who makes a living travelling the world as a Bentley driving instructor. He tells us that he's previously raced a variety of sedan cars, including an ex-Allan Grice Commodore, in various British series, and professes a love for Aussie V8 Supercar racing.
"But, you have to forget almost everything you know about driving rear-drive cars," he says, adding that the Continental GTs which we'll be driving for the most part are all-wheel drive, while the lone rear-drive Arnage is there for purely comparative purposes.
Out on the circuit for a demo lap, Pete quickly gets up to speed before throwing the GT into the first turn; the lovely woofly note of the 411kW W12 rises and falls in intensity as he works throttle and steering to guide the big coupe through a beautifully controlled drift.
As the lesson progresses, he hammers away at the message that we have to forget what we know about rear-drive cars. Crucially, we need to learn to turn into the apex as the car begins to slide, rather than away from it, as when applying opposite lock, in order to get the car set up correctly.
"You have to be patient and learn to understand how weight transfer works on ice," explains Pete, adding that he, "rarely gets people who can turn up and just do it."
This is heartening, because after my first couple of laps at the wheel, I feel like an L-plater. Trying to break my instinctive reliance on opposite lock in a slide is one thing, but there's so much other information to process, including the difference in grip between snow and ice, and Pete's barked instructions to wait-wait-W-A-I-T before applying throttle on the way out of the turn. Get it wrong, and you end up sliding unceremoniously off the circuit and into the snow banks.
We've only been going 30 minutes, but already there are dark shapes embedded in snow drifts all around the course. "Sticking it in" is pretty much inevitable, says Pete, adding that the recovery tractor is on hand should snow shovels and muscle power not be up to the task.
Since time spent digging is time lost driving, we proceed cautiously, gradually building up the pace, with each lap adding fresh information about how steering, throttle and brake inputs affect the GT's balance and grip. Getting the big coupe around the track smoothly and at a decent clip requires a complete adjustment of driving style; smoothness becomes paramount and you need to be gentle with steering inputs, and patient with the throttle, waiting for the weight transfer to settle before getting back on the gas.
We do pretty well, managing several driver swaps before we have our first off-piste excursion. It's no biggie and we manage to extricate ourselves, but not before I make the mistake of removing a glove to push. Inside the GT's gorgeous, leather, wood and aluminium interior, with the seat heaters set to 'roast', it's easy to forget just how cold it is outside. But touch frozen metal with your hand, as I did, and the reminder is fierce, instantaneous and painful.
After a few hours at the wheel, swapping frequently and taking in constant instruction, we're getting the hang of things; Scando-flicking the GT to wash off speed coming into the corners, adjusting cornering attitude with judicious dabs on the brakes and throttle, and savouring the rush as the 411kW W12 spools up on the straights.
Indeed, my Brit mate and I are beginning to feel like minor ice masters, which is perhaps why Pete suggests a switch to the Arnage… Our new-found confidence on ice disappears in an instant. Where the all-wheel-drive GT felt multi-dimensional and multi-adjustable, the Arnage feels like a one-trick pony; a lead-tipped sled that serves up either lurid oversteer or ploughing understeer and seemingly little ability to moderate either. The monster 835Nm from its twin-turbocharged 6.8-litre V8 makes even moving it off the mark a challenge, as the slightest hint of throttle lights up the rears in a flurry of wheelspin.
But, reclining comfortably in the elegant old bird's rear seat, watching snow banks slide by at 90 degrees to the direction of travel, as my driving partner saws furiously at its big timber-clad wheel, remains an indelible memory.
Juha takes a fairly low profile throughout, preferring to let the Bentley instructors do their bit, unless asked to do otherwise. He puts on a spectacular display of drifting during lunch on day one, which quickly puts everyone else's efforts into perspective, but beyond this he seems happy dozing off in the warm confines of an idling car, or smoking one of his ubiquitous cigarellos.
Nevertheless, he's happy to take anyone who asks for a lap on the ice and Pete advises us to grab him on the spot if we want to do so, as he's "a bit of a law unto himself and has a reputation for disappearing". As one of the Finnish instructors puts it: "Juha is not God in Finland, but he's not far off it."
Before long we're saddled up in a GT with 'God' himself at the wheel. These days his face bears its share of lines, and his blonde hair is thinning slightly, but the eyes are as clear and icy blue as a Nordic lake. They also obviously still work quite well, as he's instantly nailing apexes and whipping the GT effortlessly from one corner to the next. It takes only minutes beside him to realise that driving quickly on ice is second nature to him - not surprising, given that the young Juha grew up under the tutelage of a father who was a former Finnish ice-racing champion.
On the third night Juha rested. We, on the other hand, feasted on slabs of salmon fillet washed down with sickly-sweet gluhwein. The venue was a lakeside hunting lodge, accessed by dog sled, where we were encouraged to try a traditional Finnish smoke sauna. Outside the rustic, log-lined sauna, a path led to a hole cut in the lake ice, called an avanto. We were assured it would be "most invigorating" to take a plunge after our sauna.
Looking down at my 13 layers of clothing, I quickly calculated whether I had time to remove it all and get dressed again before my flight left the next day. Realising this was not humanly possible, I turned and strode purposefully back to the bar. While thrilled to have been schooled on some of the above-ground action Finland has to offer, I was just as happy to leave what lies below the ice to Juha, his tractor and his Finnish compatriots.
WHOA THERE, JUHA
Born in 1959, Juha Kankkunen debuted in the World Rally Championship in 1978, and went on to win four world championships: '86 in a Peugeot 205 Turbo, '87 in a Lancia Delta HF AWD, '91 in a Lancia Delta Integrale 16v, and '93 in a Toyota Celica Turbo AWD. Though now retired, he still does the occasional low-profile rally. Six weeks alter our visit he set a new world land speed record on ice - 321.65 km/h - driving a Bentley Continental GT. "I used to do it as work, as a profession, for 22 years" he said. "Now I can just enjoy it."
CAN YOU DIG IT?
As an equal-opportunity car maker, Bentley is happy to allow its well-heeled guests to do a little digging during its 'Power On Ice' experience. In fact, it's more or less mandatory. Just 80 paying customers - mostly Bentley owners, although that's not a prerequisite - and a dozen or so journalists will get to experience this unique driver training experience each year. The two-day courses are conducted each February and stretch to four days including arrival and departure dates. Prices vary depending on accommodation, but you won't see much change out of $12,000 per person, ex-Helsinki. Full details can be found at www.bentleydriving.com.
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