The Land Rovers

The competitive spirit runs strong among the young bloods at England's two great universities, Oxford and Cambridge. Year after year they vie with one another on the cricket field, in the debating hall, on the Thames. Three years ago, returning by air from a trip to Hong Kong, an enthusiastic young Cantabrigian named Adrian Cowell thought it would be nice if the ancient rivalry were carried into a new arena. "It would be real competition," he told a friend as he gazed down at the trackless wastes below the plane, "if we got an Oxford and a Cambridge team together to see which could get through the jungle."

Toothpaste & Gasoline. Two teams of three men were easily rounded up, and as they talked grandly of what they would do, their ambitions altered slightly. With only -L-700 (about $2,000) among them, they abandoned the idea of a competition and decided to make their venture a cooperative proposition. Instead of a jungle race, they planned to drive by automobile from London to Singapore. Eagerly they sought advice from a hundred or more experts--in government offices, explorers' clubs, consulates and travel bureaus. Almost everyone assured the boys the trip was impossible. They pooled their resources and--being adventurers in the modern age of advertising--sent letters to more than 2,000 industrial firms, asking for help in return for publicity. "It was amazing," said Cowell, "how the firms came through ... By the summer of 1955 we had everything we could possibly need, more than -L-10,000 worth of supplies: two Land Rovers, portable bridge-building equipment, a free supply of gasoline . . . even toothpaste and toilet paper." To justify their adventure, the boys undertook some scientific chores for the Royal Geographical Society.

On a sunny day last September, in the two cars, one painted light blue for Cambridge, one dark blue for Oxford, the adventurers took off. Eastward they drove to Paris, Vienna, Belgrade and on to Beirut, Lebanon, where they camped for a week in a girls' school, temporarily vacant. "By this time," said Cowell, "we were becoming expert in the roving life. We achieved fabulous success at wheedling sleeping places." Often, on country roads they had simply set up their cots under the stars and slept where they were. In cities they had made motels of many an empty shelter, such as the half-finished garage they occupied in Vienna. Gradually, however, they developed a technique of cadging better quarters. Seeking out a local inhabitant, explained Cowell, "we'd just ask for some little corner to put our cots in; then gradually we'd move up into the master bedroom. It is always after you meet the wives that you make progress. They all start becoming mothers wh :n they find you have no place to sleep."

As they followed the Iraq Petroleum Co. pipeline eastward toward Teheran, open desert stretched for miles on either side, and there was no road of any kind, nothing but the pipeline to mark the route. Yet out of the blue came an Arab truck headed straight for the leading Land Rover, which hastily stopped. Swerving at the last moment, the Arab sideswiped it, tearing a rear fender, and drove on unconcerned.

A persistent and tattered hitchhiker describing himself as the "King of Islam" gave them further trouble in Pakistan. Insisting on a lift, he tried first to ride on the roof of one of the cars, then seized hold of the rear, allowing the car to drag him in the dust. After a war council, the boys at last craftily assured him that they would take him along if he would first pose for a picture. While he stood beside the road in expectant and shabby majesty, they drove away.

Elephant Trails. After taking different routes, they spent Christmas in Calcutta, then, crossing Assam, picked up the old Stilwell Road, which has not been generally traveled since the war. It was littered with military wrecks, but the road surface was still good. The difficulty of passing through bandit territory in Burma also proved to be exaggerated. At last came Bangkok and what seemed to be the end of their journey. Singapore still lay well to the south, but there were no roads leading to it. "We checked everybody," said Cowell, "and were told there was nothing but elephant trails. No car could possibly get through." At last an American major, who had walked through the area to check road conditions, agreed that they might make it.

For two carloads of enthusiastic colle gians, that was enough. Driving their way along the elephant path, taking as long as twelve hours to go 100 miles at one stretch, they reached the Malay border. From then on the going was easy. Last week, after 188 days through village, town, jungle and desert, the six young college men from Oxford and Cambridge, all splendidly bearded, rode into Singapore, 18,000 miles by road from London.

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