The Grand Tour

Since you're in beach buggies,

you will now drive to the beach

at the northernmost point

of Namibia, where it meets Angola.

It's 1,000 miles away.

We have got to find this road.

This is not gonna be too clever in the dark.

Listen. I shall find the Southern Cross.

Oh, this is a bad idea!

We are now trusting our lives

to an orangutang who thinks he's Patrick Moore.

24 hours of cold, misery,

to achieve exactly nothing.

I mean, it is exactly nothing.

Oh, it's coming in!

This is the best desert I've ever been to.

Holy shit!

Oh!

What it actually is is a big, orange killing engine.

Jesus!

Oh, my God!

Please make it! Please!

Just need to find a road now. This is not funny any more.

I don't want another night in the desert.

Oh, my God.

I could go east, I could go west.

Whichever way you go, it goes somewhere.

Yes! It is the road to freedom.

What the hell was that?

What I'm driving here, or attempting to drive, is Apollo 13.

It was morning by the time I nursed my wounded car into Windhoek,

and my well-rested colleagues were full of admiration

for how I'd pulled off such a feat.

- Is that the first thing you thought of? - What?

Tear a hole in it. What's that gonna do?

I needed to get to the bleed valve on the radiator, which is there.

- Is it? - And, to make life doubly difficult...

...I trod on my spectacles.

That is tragic, trying to fix it with one lens.

I was trying to fix it. And the only eye I can close is this eye.

- You can't close your left eye? - I can't close my left eye.

Why didn't you put them on upside down? You'd have the lens over the other eye.

That is logic there.

Oh, yeah.

- Come on, let's go. We've got a lot to do. No!

The one thing we have established now is that,

with the exception of Windhoek,

which is the capital, Namibia is a tough and arduous place.

- Yeah. - Have you bought maps?

- No. - Have you got tenting equipment of any sort?

Have you got somewhere to sleep other than the desert floor? No.

So why don't we, today, get prepared

for the next leg of the - big leg of the journey?

- That is a good idea. We'll do that. - That's not a bad idea.

We'll grant ourselves a day of... shopping. Mm.

First of all, would you permit me to chisel some of the cheddar

that has grown in my underpants away?

Well, not here.

Having de-cheesed my body parts,

we headed out to get the necessary supplies.

The thing is, if we go mesh,

it'll keep the sun off but it won't keep the light out.

That will wake us up early. That's 1.5 kilograms. But...

Hammond, the first thing you need to know before we start shopping in here

is James and I are in charge.

- Well... - Sorry, he's right.

No, you're not. You don't know anything about camping.

- JAMES, JEREMY: Exactly. - How does that make you in charge?

Because we know it's all terrible.

If we leave it to you, we'll all end up sleeping in small green triangles.

The camping you know about is in the Lake District,

where you deliberately make yourself miserable.

I'm sorry, he's right.

It is possible, I think,

with a bit of ingenuity and money,

to make tenting bearable.

Richard Baden-Hammond disagreed,

so we went our separate ways.

Correct, incorrect.

- Exactly. - Do you agree?

- But I'd go even more correct. - Oh, yes!

Perfect. Roll it out on the desert floor...

...you're home.

Oh, James! Le Creuset!

See, Hammond would hate this, because this weighs more than a tent.

- Which it does, actually. - A lot more.

- And it weighs more because it is a quality item. - Exactly.

Pocket trowel.

Pocket soap.

Here we go.

- Pasta spoon. - Yeah, good idea.

I find that bottle opener a bit... lightweight.

Yeah, more expensive is what we're looking for.

You see, look at this, James.

This is the sort of thing Hammond would think is a chair.

Ooh! That's all you need. That's your whole... stove.

That's it.

- Is it gas? It is, isn't it? - I presume so.

For two, you could get a small chicken in there, or... a pheasant.

We're getting there now.

So that folds down to that.

Yeah.

The next morning, we headed out once more,

with the camping gear James and I had bought

bringing up the rear.

And besides stocking up with essentials,

Hammond and I had used our day off in Windhoek to modify our cars.

To solve my overheating problems, I've fitted a ram-air scoop,

which shovels refreshing, cooling air into the radiator as I go along.

And, as you may have noticed, I've fitted a spoiler.

My only complaint, really, about my beach buggy

was its lack of performance in third and fourth gears.

Couldn't up power from the engine and I don't want to stress it,

so I could lighten it.

I've stripped away the superstructure here and the passenger seat,

anything spare.

That means this car is 30-40 kilos lighter than it was before.

Jeremy, why has your car sprouted a green moustache?

Well, it's a spoiler for added downforce at the front end,

which you need in a rear-engine vehicle.

This thing will be unbelievable through the corners now,

it really will.

Like a 911.

And I tell you what,

even with your new lightweight buggy,

you're no match for what I've got here this morning.

Yeah, I'm sorry, mate. This is quicker.

- It is not. - It is.

Right, Richard Hammond, I challenge you to a race.

OK, you're on. Idiot.

We shall find a race track and we shall do racing.

Well, you carry on. I'm not doing any racing.

That's utterly pointless.

On the outskirts of the city,

we found a rather excellent circuit

where we could do timed laps,

and James could try out his new vacuum cleaner.

Oh, yes.

- Are you ready? - No.

- Why not? - Temperatures and pressures.

This is a racing machine. Look at it.

It's a plastic beach buggy parked near a V8.

- With aero. - Really?

In...

...three, two, one, go!

Yeah, I'm gonna do it in gear.

- Give it a shot. - I'm gonna try that.

- In... - No! Throttle's jammed.

Yes.

- Jammed. - In...

No! You can keep saying "in"

till the cows come home. The throttle...

Three, two, one, begin!

Why... Why have you stopped?

Ah. Well, erm...

The throttle may have gone a bit open.

Yeah.

My throttle is totally broken.

- Anyway, Hammond... - Yeah?

Any car which can wheelie off the line...

is going to be able to beat yours, and would have done.

So... Sorry.

You're saying because your car started,

well, 50 yards away over there,

wheelied, was uncontrollable, slammed back down

and broke itself, it's the best on the track?

Yes.

Well, much learned. Really useful. Glad we did it.

With Jeremy's endlessly troublesome car fixed again,

we scooped up James' Dyson and continued northwards

towards the finish line at the border with Angola.

The going was smooth and easy and eerily quiet,

which begged a question.

Now, apparently, Namibia is the most dangerous place in the world to drive.

There are more accidents per head then anywhere else,

and car accidents are the first

and most common cause of death in young adults.

How? How can that be so?

I mean... the place is empty.

In Britain, there are 250-260 people for every square kilometre.

Here... it's two.

Two!

This makes the Australian outback look like Monaco.

Monkey! Monkey!

Huge anus! Did you see that thing's anus?

I, however, was not thinking

about population statistics or monkeys' bottoms.

I was just happy to be on a smooth surface

in a car that wasn't filled with dust.

I shall relax...

...with the lovely view.

Sadly, though, a few miles later...

Ow! Ow! Oh, my nuts! Ow!

Stop it!

Ow! Ow! Agh!

James May?

Yes, I can hear you, but it's very uncomfortable

and my car has... has cut out.

Ow!

Mercifully for James,