Words and Photography: Charlotte Vowden
Ending an era of record-breaking adventure: it’s farewell to my floating Land Rover Adventurer
Steve Burgess made motoring history when he accomplished the first crossing of the treacherous Bering Strait in his modified amphibious Land Rover. Reliving the expedition, he tells Charlotte Vowden why it was time to say goodbye to the Defender that defied the odds…
“My father was an armchair traveller, he knew so much about the world. As a farmer in West Yorkshire he never got to have many adventures, but he inspired me to travel just by talking about faraway places. I spent five days hitchhiking around the Yorkshire Dales when I was 14, but my first big overseas trip was to hitchhike to Turkey when I was 17, much to my mother’s horror. I then went off to do the Hippie Trail in India and Nepal during the mid-70s.
When my father died, I took over the farm but decided I wasn’t going to follow his path entirely; I was going to see the world. In the early nineties I spent two years backpacking with my wife, Nicky, who was my girlfriend at the time. That’s when I had the idea of crossing the Bering Strait between Alaska and Russia – but I wasn’t the only one.
As more people tried and failed, I developed a plan to attempt a summering crossing in an amphibious vehicle. I chose a Land Rover because you can do so much with them, they’re basically just nuts and bolts. All I had to do was make one float, which isn’t that difficult. I chose a left-hand drive Defender 110 TDI ROW [Rest of World] spec, which wasn’t actually roadworthy in Europe. Dan Evans, from Protection & Performance [a company that specialised in adapting 4x4s] set about modifying it.
He attached a detachable propeller by running a shaft down the chassis, and two enormous red floats, which had a combined volume of 1,480 gallons and maintained 5.5 tons of buoyancy. It was also fully waterproofed, including the engine. We tested it on Coniston Water. Driving in for the first time was a bit nerve-wracking, but once you’re confident with it, you become a bit blasé.
We set off for the strait in January 2008, and I’ll be honest, we weren’t really ready to go. There were two other groups attempting the crossing at the same time and I wanted to be the first to succeed. It had taken 10 years of my life, serious planning and hundreds of thousands of pounds to get to this point.
One of the main issues was Russian Bureaucracy. Permission to drive across Russia cost me over £100,000 in the end. I even flew to Moscow to get permission from the Russian government. I had a fixer but he didn’t respond over email so I took the initiative and went to see him face-to-face. I’m a practical person and I think farming gave me the tenacity to say come on, anything is worth a try. There was no capacity for frivolity and I applied that mentality to backpacking.
Nicki and I drove the Land Rover from North Yorkshire, through Europe to Moscow. I then spent fifty days driving across Siberia to the strait with a friend, Simon Dedman, who was also an avid traveller. We knew it would be frozen solid so the Land Rover was fully insulated and fitted with removable caterpillar tracks that allowed it to cross the snow and ice.
The coldest it got was -46°C outside and -20°C inside, and that was with the engine running and heater on. We had problems, but not insurmountable ones; the brake pipes got ripped off by the ice, snow and tree trunks, and the shock absorbers came apart. It was an incredible journey, some days we drove for 18 hours and saw nothing and no one else at all. We covered 4,000km off-roading.
We reached Uelen on the 3rd March, put the Land Rover into storage and flew back to the UK. Dan and I returned in July once the ice had thawed on the Bering Strait. We were scared, I won’t deny it. In the middle of nowhere, in freezing water, if anything happens, you’ve had it. We wore survival suits with rebreathers [an emergency system that recycles the wearer’s exhaled breath], but it can only extend your life underwater by about four minutes. The Russians did provide a support boat, but you keep your fingers crossed that you’ll never get to that point.
The water level sat at the bottom of the doors and yes, it did get in. About half way across we landed on one of the Diomede Islands to ride out a storm, We got stuck there for a month; the fisherman who’d agreed to escort us for the next part of the journey to the Alaskan mainland changed his mind. We enlisted help from back home; Dan’s brother and a guy called Mac MacKenney came to the rescue.
The sea was as calm as a millpond and the air thick with fog on the day we accomplished the final leg to Alaska. We landed on the shores of Wales to a vibrant sunset. I was relieved and elated. There had been so much potential for things to go wrong, the Russians could have pulled the plug on us at any moment, and out on the water, there was a lot of risk. Going over the strait was the ultimate challenge – ice, storms, and endless uncertainty. It was one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done.
The sea was as calm as a millpond and the air thick with fog on the day we accomplished the final leg to Alaska. We landed on the shores of Wales to a vibrant sunset. I was relieved and elated. There had been so much potential for things to go wrong, the Russians could have pulled the plug on us at any moment, and out on the water, there was a lot of risk. Going over the strait was the ultimate challenge – ice, storms, and endless uncertainty. It was one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done.
I never felt emotionally close to the Land Rover but I was protective of it, it was our mobile headquarters. I shipped it back to the UK, made it roadworthy again and used it on the farm for quite a few years. Nicky and I also drove it to Kazakhstan, it got there and back faultlessly.
After retiring to Scotland, I didn’t really have any use for it any more. It only did a few hundred kilometres last year, so I know I don’t need it. Its purpose has been defeated. I’ve just turned 70 so I thought it was time to let someone else take it on another adventure. I’ve had my fun with it; it doesn’t owe me anything.
I decided to sell the Land Rover at auction with Cheffins, who hold regular vintage sales. I didn’t watch it though, I drove it down to Cambridgeshire, where the sale was taking place, and left the team with the keys. I trusted them completely so was quite happy to leave it there with a fairly modest reserve. I even did a piece for television about it.
The Land Rover sold for just over £8,000 with all the kit, including the survival suits, and quite a bit of memorabilia including press cuttings. I do know who bought it but they’d like to remain anonymous, and that’s OK with me.
My advice for someone who wants to go and do crazy things in a vehicle is a bit of a cliche but it’s just go for it. Do your homework because it will pay off. People chuck millions at this sort of thing and don’t manage to achieve what they set out to do. We didn’t, and we did. If you want something enough, unless you’re unlucky, you’re going to do it. I think my father, Philip, would have been very supportive and proud.”
Check out Cheffins for information on forthcoming machinery and their vintage auctions calendar.
What’s the craziest adventure you’ve ever taken your car on? We’d love to hear your story below.
Read more from Charlotte Vowden
Highs, Lows and Being Trailered Home
F1 at 75: Karun Chandhok
Dodging 12-Wheelers on the M25: A Tongue-in-Cheek Tour
