The air is thin, but you can already breathe the freedom that places like this are able to offer. Below the numerous villages stand out and in the distance you can still see the sea, but inevitably you get carried away by that perfect strip of asphalt that twists around itself in a still rather orderly manner.

CLIMB #03 | GORGES DU VERDON

JAGUAR F-TYPE CONVERTIBLE

Words by Alessandro Marrone / Photos by S. Lomax

 

 

 

It is pretty early when we leave the center of Grasse, the European perfume capital. And yet the only fragrance that captures us at the first light of dawn is the most typical taste of freshly baked hot bread, croissants filled with all kinds of jam, pizza strips with melted cheese and an unspecified sort of bread enveloping loads of ham and mozzarella. Taking advantage of the almost total lack of people around and a lockdown that has certainly not softened its grip on freedom and travelling, we load our backpacks with anything but genuine food. Soon we will not only gorge ourselves straight into this however, but also on one of the most incredible roads that the human mind has ever conceived and this time it is anything but the most typical mountain pass. We are about to dive – literally – in the deepest canyon of the old continent, the Gorges du Verdon.

Located just over an hour from the Côte d’Azur, the Verdon region extends for several kilometers and is divided into its two main roads, called Rive Gauche and Rive Droite (left bank and right bank). In the middle, in addition to the Var’s waters, there is a chasm that reaches 1,500 meters in depth in its most extreme bits. Therefore, it is better not to suffer from vertigo, especially when you stop the car in the numerous panoramic areas and turn your gaze downwards, an almost interminable jump accompanied by rocky walls at times perfectly vertical that do nothing but accentuate the sense of limitless and of immense that this part of the planet is able to offer to travelers and hikers who come here from all over the world.

 

 

 

The roof of the F-Type Convertible is still conveniently folded over our heads and while Steve quickly resumes where we’ll have our first photographic stops, my mind is already in the middle of the Gorges, where a couple of years ago I drove for the first time behind the wheel of a McLaren 720 S for “The Great Escape” book. On that occasion, however, we had only covered one bank – the less scenic one if we want to be picky – but this time we will explore the Verdon to discover all of its most wonderful secrets. Along the first kilometers of the D6085, the F-Type shows once again how it represents a perfect grand tourer capable of relaxing driver and passenger, especially in Normal mode and with the gearbox set to automatic. Leaving the car the task to check everything thus allows you to enjoy the glimpses that are slowly illuminated by the sun’s rays that rise to the sky with every passing kilometer, despite a thick and ever closer blanket of clouds seems awaiting ahead.

 

 

 

Just before Escragnolles we allow ourselves a stop at the panoramic terrace which is an obligatory checkpoint for anyone who ventures into this region. The air is thin, but you can already breathe the freedom that places like this are able to offer. Below the numerous villages stand out and in the distance you can still see the sea, but inevitably you get carried away by that perfect strip of asphalt that twists around itself in a still rather orderly manner. The road surface so far is perfect, with a wide and always very clean road, characterized by an almost constant dotted center line that allows the Jaguar’s 300 horsepower to be grounded as we stumble on some vehicle with less performing ambitions than ours. The F-Type proves to be the ideal car for this kind of thing just when we realize that the power of the more generous engines would not actually be needed, as soon as the road becomes so winding and narrow that having rear-wheel drive grants ample doses of fun, when coming out of faster turns allows you to widen the rear end and with a movement as simple as precise straightening an imposing nose that does not reveal the volume of the small engine hidden under it – in our case, a turbocharged 4-cylinder of just 2-liters.

 

 

 

Now that the clear waters of the Riviera are not even remotely part of the background that surrounds us and the vegetation becomes thicker, you feel that you have truly entered the adventure you’ve come here for. Reaching the Gorges du Verdon is an almost methodical process, with a territory that changes with the passing of kilometers and seems to prepare you for what is about to happen. Let’s face it, you’re never really ready for something like this. A bit like the fact that although we stopped just an hour ago for a very quick snack, we ended up voting and pouring out a list of the strong points of our packed lunch, completing the gastronomic on road experience by ending the croissants that were insistently asking to be eaten. They say that with a full belly you can think better and fortunately the Verdon is not even one of those roads that needs to be attacked with a knife between the teeth, rather it winks at our digestion as soon as we pass Castellane and take the first of the two fundamental crossroads that should not be missed in order to fully enjoy the Gorges.

Once on the D952 you have to keep right and then take the Rive Droite. Immediately it seems to be squeezed between two very high rock walls, interspersed with numerous and narrow tunnels dug into the same mountain and which force a more cautious pace, also due to the presence of debris in the middle of the way. Our feline moves with agility and with our heads sheltered under the canvas roof, we cover the kilometers that will soon take us to the real canyon. The road is still completely deserted, there are only a few caravans parked somewhere next to the larger spots, but we haven’t come across a car coming from the opposite direction since we passed Castellane. I increase the pace and by setting in Dynamic mode I allow myself what will be, at least for the moment, the last stretch based on adrenaline offered by the GT at our disposal. The car of our colleagues following us is getting smaller in the rear-view mirror and also thanks to the fact of having dimensions that still force us to double our respect in the tightest points, the F-Type demonstrates that in a road of this kind, 300 horsepower is more than enough.

 

 

 

Too bad that the sound coming from the exhaust is not scratchy enough, not even with the appropriate button enabled to raise the volume, but having to choose between soundtrack or action, I feel happy to be able to have a further improved driving dynamics if compared to the previous model. The kilometers are swallowed up with impressive ease and that irregular wall of rock always so extremely close to the right mirror leaves room for a clearing that brings with it the second fundamental intersection. Better to pull over and wait for our teammates, so as to turn sharply left onto the Route de Cretes. A few minutes later you can truly say that you are in one of the craziest places on Earth. After a wider and faster stretch than the one we faced during the last few kilometers, the road in front of us opens up and the canyon meets the expectations created in those who had never set foot here. Despite having driven the opposite bank of the Verdon a year ago or something like that, I cannot help but stop the Jaguar at the first lay-by area, turn off the engine and gaze into that seemingly infinite void.

 

 

 

Now think about your legs trembling at every step towards the edge of the ravine. Have you done that? Good. Elevate it to a thousand as soon as you place your hands on the iron railing that separates you from a jump into a void of over 700/800 meters. This is pretty strong, I can assure you that. The air is thin here, despite the height above sea level reaches no more than 660 meters, but in order to allow our eyes to fully enjoy this incredible place lost in the most pristine corner of the globe, there is nothing left to do but open the roof and proceed along the D23. Behind every curve there are at least a couple of reasons to be amazed and although this stretch of road is narrower than usual, the fact of being one-way allows you to drive with ease and only think about enjoying the view that envelops us. We stop near the Belvédère de la Carelle and then a couple of bends later, finding what I consider to be the main terrace surprisingly free from tourists, which minute by minute begin to crowd the narrow asphalt snake. The terrace identified as the Grand Canyon du Verdon is the main checkpoint here, the one that gives you a 360-degree image of what the Verdon gorges really are. On one side the narrow road that comes out of a tunnel carved into the mountain, on the other the complete emptiness of the cliff that divides the right bank from the left one, visible in the distance despite the threatening presence of clouds now even darker and thicker than before.

 

 

 

Lomax unleashes his camera and as happens in those places able to enter you with an almost surreal force, I leave the key of the F-Type to a colleague and I start to walk west, with my eyes bouncing from side to side trying to capture every single corner of this wonderful place. However, it is something that you can neither touch nor see, which makes today one of the best of those ever experienced since I am part of this team made of unbridled madmen. The absence of a phone signal leaves me to take a few pictures with my smartphone, without wasting time on Instagram posts, or thinking about a proper caption. The moment is to be fully enjoyed and all the pieces seem to fit together perfectly. At least until a few timid drops of rain begin to fall.

Back to the car, I jump on board and not even 500 meters later we stop in favor of yet another panoramic point, the Belvédère des Glacières, another pitch built close to the cliff and from which you can see some points that we will cross shortly, once reached the opposite bank. Actually, the Gorges du Verdon betray apparently reduced distances, joining point A with point B in a tortuous journey that continues to plunge into the rock, at least before descending towards the valley down to the turquoise waters of the Lac de Sainte-Croix, able to host swimmers and canoes throughout the summer season, while today it tries to make its way under a sky that continues to become more threatening as minutes go by. We continue along the Pont du Galetas and resume our ascent towards the left bank. We do this by crossing the village of Aiguines and driving the first kilometers immersed in a more traditional and dense vegetation, leaving the waters of the lake behind us and taking a look at the remaining range, noting that although the engine is a 2-liter, when you try to take advantage of the power available or you face stretches rich in curves, the F-Type likes to drink petrol like its bigger sisters, also thanks to a weight of 1,600 kg, which with two occupants and luggage on board does not struggle to reach 1,800 kilograms .

 

 

 

Here finally the view around us starts to open again and with a providential break granted by the rain, we take full advantage of the opportunity to stop at the Corniche Sublime and in another small photographic spot located on the side of the road a bunch of kilometers later. I would not want to leave this place and once again we have confirmation that to fully enjoy the Gorges you must first of all have an entire day at your disposal, unless you want to tackle some path by foot or feel like true thrill worshipers, perhaps jumping with the elastic rope from the over 180 meters of the Pont de l’Artuby, a concrete construction that joins the two banks and introduces the ascent towards that restaurant that a few hours before was only an indistinct dot on the opposite side of the Grand Canyon du Verdon. It’s time to close the roof, select the most suitable driving mode for wet asphalt and hear the incessant sound of rain drops beating on the panels of the F-Type. The games are potentially over and with an almost perfect timing a voice from the walkie-talkie gives me the green light to set the office as my next destination. The day started early, the driving kilometers were many and mainly all developed on a road that leaves no room for distractions, but the comfort of the Jaguar has shown that grand tourers are the ideal choice when you want to enhance the journey and at the same time enjoy a car that represents the purest driving pleasure, despite the lack of some horsepower out of this 2-liter, an aspect that can be easily overlooked on a road like this.

 

 

 

We thus reach Trigance in almost total radio silence, with Steve next to me checking his shots and then falling asleep lulled by a truly remarkable ride comfort and a cockpit that despite having only two seats and little space for objects, shows great habitability for both occupants. The rain becomes more intense and forces me to tackle the following stretch with due caution, noting how the car radically changes between Wet and Normal mode, with the first one offering consistent resistance in such a way as to guarantee extra safety on a slippery ground like this. With the understandable desire not wanting to drop the curtain on this extraordinary expedition, I take this opportunity for a last stop, before the crowded towns of the Riviera serve as a prelude to our entry onto the motorway for the final push home. There is a small church, a chapel probably rarely used, with a canopy that allows us to stop the car and get out, looking back and going to point at those rocks now almost completely indistinct in the confusion of a rain that has now become torrential.

With a meteorological melancholy accentuating our goodbye to the Gorges du Verdon, I come back on board the F-Type and in the most complete and muffled embrace of its leather and Alcantara seats and with an updated multimedia system that is now more precise and responsive, we return to our base bringing with us a precious piece of today’s experience: the right car for the most emotionally profound purpose a driving enthusiast can aspire to: driving for the pure pleasure of doing it.