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CARS AHOY by Capt. Peter Tappenden and Capt. M.B.Bailey

Reproduced from The Autocar 10th December 1965.

MANY READERS will have heard and perhaps seen on television, pictures of the adventurous Channel crossing made by two Amphicars last September. It would be quite wrong to think from this that such a voyage is within scope of anybody as a solo venture, and the recent unhappy loss of an Amphicar, run down by a ship in the Straits of Gibraltar, stands as a warning. The project has to be attended by the same precautions as those needed for a cross Channel swim especially the need for an accompanying vessel. However, the full story of what was quite an ambitious venture will, we feel sure, be of interest to many.

A CASUAL discussion during a dinner party late in July this year led to two British Army officers, a sergeant and a London croupier crossing the English Channel in two Amphicars from Dover to Calais, on 16 September 1965. A quick tour then followed through France, Belgium and West Germany to the Frankfurt Motor Show,  and then a further trip through East Germany to Berlin  to the works where these cars are manufactured.

The two of us who had that discussion over dinner were Capt. Michael Bailey of the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, my next door neighbour, and myself a captain in the Royal Army Ordnance Corps, both of us attached to a "land lubber station" well inland at Basingstoke in Hampshire.

Within weeks a car was made available by the German firm Amphicar Vertriebgesschaft for the attempt. Harbour masters, the Automobile Association, Customs and immigration officials had been contacted and arrangements made. News of the attempt reached Timothy Dill-Russell, an Amphicar owner, escapologist and a croupier at a London club, and he asked to be included. An engineer and navigator was found for him Sgt. Joe Minto of the Royal Corps of Transport, from Boscombe Down.

The attempt was scheduled for 16 September, starting at Marble Arch, London, and ending at the Frankfurt Motor Show in West Germany. The object was to show that it was possible to use one means of conveyance throughout at a fare more economical than those already in existence. The night before, weather forecasts predicted a force 3 wind over the Channel, and this was confirmed early in the morning of 16 September.

At 5.30 a.m. the two Amphicars left Marble Arch bedecked with nylon ropes and four gentlemen clad in blue overalls, all slightly apprehensive of attempting a crossing which none of them had tried before in anything smaller than a cross Channel ferry.

On arrival at Dover at 7.30 a.m. final preparations were made before entering the water. Radio sets carried by each car were netted in, life jackets checked, the engines and electrical equipment waterproofed and most important the " bungs "the draining point at the bottom rear end of the car were secured. There had been the instance of a proud owner in Germany driving his car into water for the first time only to find himself and his car gurgling and slowly settling on the river bed.

At 8.50 a.m. the two cars rolled down the ramp into Dover Harbour and made for the open sea. Within the harbour wall the sea was fairly calm and gave no indication of the conditions outside, both cars were going well and travelling in line ahead, about 200 yards apart. We had been told that the vehicles would make 6-7 knots in still water, with an average fuel consumption of anything up to three gallons of fuel per hour. Charts and tide tables had been provided and we estimated that, at an average speed through the water of four knots and allowing for wind and tide, the journey across should take approximately six hours and we should arrive at Calais at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. A ship's log and a car compass registering down to five degrees of arc were the only additional navigational aids we possessed. After a quick tour of the harbour we set ourselves in a south-easterly direction and left the entrance.

The sea outside was running north westerly and a fair amount of roll and pitch was evident. Immediately, with a s.w. wind, waves cascaded over the bonnet and up the windscreen, but the cars held their course well. Within an hour we were level with the drilling derricks for the survey of the Channel tunnel three miles off Dover and progressing well at slightly under four knots. Several large ships took a great interest in the progress en route. At approximately 12 p.m. we started to hit the " Channel race " as it is called, and waves of quite a height were a regular feature. It was found better to motor up the wave with the accelerator full down, and when the top of the wave was reached to slacken off and gently motor down the other side. This was not always possible, because currents at times tended to come from the side; the only way to combat this was to put the foot down hard and motor through the top of the wave, clinging grimly to the steering wheel and watching the compass for direction.

We were all surprised to find that in these high seas we did not suffer from seasickness, and we attributed this to the fact that we drank milk throughout the journey, and had taken sea sickness pills.

The white cliffs of Dover gradually receded on the port quarter; after the first hour we had made 3,1 nautical miles and after two hours a further three nautical miles. At hourly intervals, we checked our positions on the chart  and altered course accordingly, to allow for the changes in tidal speed and direction.

Continuous communication was maintained between the two cars which were separated on occasions by as much as half a mile. Even at close range it was often quite difficult to see each other.

About this time the Townsend ferry on its normal run from Dover to Calais came up on our starboard side, some 121 miles off route. Many hundreds of passengers were taking an avid interest in our progress their cars snugly stowed on board. The captain later sent a signal, relayed through an air sea rescue launch which had us in radio contact, that he wished us "Bon voyage." The rough seas continued to build Up and at about 1 p.m. a force 5 bordering on force 6 wind was encountered. Keeping a steady course was extremely difficult, but we still maintained a steady forward movement.

Eleven miles out the weather became quite unpleasant, with the seas mounting and winds of force 5 to 6 common. Fortunately there was a tail sea running and by equating our speed to that of the waves we were able to make reasonable headway. By this time we were submarining consistently with the sea running over the bonnet and roof and cascading down the sides. While the engine continues to function, the blast of air driven out of the engine compartment through the bonnet louvres is quite sufficient to keep all water out of the engine compartment.

It was about 1.30 p.m. when the Amphicar driven by Tim Dill-Russell stopped as he had shipped water. It was subsequently found out that this was not attributable to leakage, but to a blocked bilge pump. As there was no way of registering the amount of water in the bilges it had not become apparent until it was too late. The movement of this water had doused the engine and electrics, which in turn allowed water to be sucked into the engine through

the exhaust system. It was decided to tow the car to the French coast to complete the trip. The ropes we had, being nylon, stretched and acted extremely well as a tow rope between the cars. Unfortunately, due to a manoeuvring error the tow line became entwined round our propeller, and one of us had to make a rather undignified entry in his underpants into the water; and after 10 minutes or so it was freed.

The next problem was one of refuelling. The vehicle fuel capacity of 1012 gallons was insufficient to make the crossing and it was therefore necessary to refuel at sea, a rather precanous operation which involved opening the roof and pouring the fuel into the tank from over the windscreen. The petrol tank is completely enclosed under the bonnet and normally this has to be raised before petrol can be supplied. This was obviously no task to undertake at sea and so we had fitted up an external filling point just in front of the windscreen and standing up like a schnorkel 9in. above the bulkhead.

Refuelling helped pass the time and it was quite surprising how soon the French coast appeared on the starboard bow, a most welcome sight which made us realize we were well over half way across.

Slowly the coast line approached and we began to make out certain shore installations in the vicinity of Calais. Up to now we had no certain means of determining our exact position and so we were most relieved to see ships approaching Calais and knew then we were correctly set.

Arrival : We landed on the coast north of the harbour at 4.30 p.m., approximately 7 hours 20 minutes after leaving the outer wall at Dover Harbour. The beach was soft sand and the going was difficult; however, the local French populace appeared miraculously in their hundreds and very soon we had the crown organized on a 125ft nylon rope; together we got the two cars on to the beach. There we were greeted by rather amazed Customs and immigration officials, who had been informed of our arrival only an hour beforehand.

We were all cold and completely saturated after our exertions in pulling the two cars out of the sea. By 5.45 p.m. we arrived at the Total filling station and were welcomed by the management with coffee and biscuits whilst our cars were serviced and washed down. Tim's car was dried out and started without the least hesitation. The sump oil had emulsified and was drained off, flushed five times and refilled with fresh oil. Our original plan for driving straight on to Frankfurt was modified and we decided to stay the night in Calais and set out at 6 o'clock the next morning.

The journey to Frankfurt was uneventful and took just on 12 hours, allowing two hours for halts. On the sea crossing the Amphicar had averaged some 1.5 gallons per hour in the sea, which meant conservatively that it had cost us under £4 for 2 passengers and a car to cross. This would have been even cheaper and quicker if we had no tow and the weather had been favourable.

During our stay, the firm had very kindly offered to strip Tim's car down and to renew parts where necessary if he was prepared to take it to West Berlin, where the cars were manufactured. Naturally he accepted their offer and to give the remaining three of us an unexpected opportunity of visiting Berlin it was agreed that both cars should make the journey on Sunday afternoon, 19 September.

The drive up to Helmstedt was uneventful but at the Allied check point on the autobahn certain difficulties arose. Peter and Joe's passports had been ruined in the sea water during the crossing and they were not allowed to proceed by road. So they had to make their way back to Hanover and arranged to fly into Berlin from there the next morning. Tim and I passed the check point formalities at both ends without trouble and duly arrived in West Berlin in the early hours of Monday morning. After a good night's rest we motored over to the factory in the French sector where Amphicars are manufactured.

For those interested, the car is truly amphibious and costs £1,075 in the U.K. It weighs a ton and looks a little top heavy. It is powered by a Triumph Herald 1,147 c.c. engine mounted at the rear and has a top speed on the road of over 70 m.p.h.                                                                   

 

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