Diary of a Monte Carlo rally driver

Debra Searle, left, and Anna-Louise Felstead: armed with edible supplies and lashings of girl power

Under the guidance of navigator and friend Debra Searle MBE, A-L would be negotiating hairpin bends, climbing mountains and overcoming snow and ice in an attempt to snare the coveted Ladies Cup. After months of preparation the two women flew to Turin on 28th January to meet up with their 1957 Alfa Romeo Giulietta, which they were driving for the team Gulietta Scuderia del Portello.

The next evening they started the engine: there was nothing left to do but to drive. Previously, a flat tyre and map-reading errors meant A-L fell at the final hurdle. Would she manage this time to avoid the mechanical and navigational nightmares that got the better of her before? Here is the diary of a Monte-Carlo rally driver:

"We set off from Turin without a hitch, everything's fine, the atmosphere's fantastic and I'm really excited. Whereas I'm pretty relaxed, Debra is concerned about the tulip notes. These are basic diagrams prepared for you by the rally organisers; they direct you left or right, tell you where to find a petrol station etc. They're not maps and they don't help you if you get lost.

The previous year I had started one minute behind my team leader, Jason Wright, and I had followed him for most of the rally. This year I'm starting one minute ahead of him and Debs is adamant that we should stay in front rather than play follow the leader. She thinks it's dangerous to rely on other people. She has a point: when my tyre blew in the final stage last year, I lost Jason and having been following him for most of the way my navigator was completely unprepared to direct us. Debs and I are also a little carried away by the whole girl power thing. We didn’t foresee getting lost after only one minute. We are driving around and around, Debra can't read the road signs in the dark. The mechanic’s on the phone to her, gabbling about page 72 of the tulip notes: we are still on page two.

Overtaking snails

We finally find our way but are nervous about time. I put my foot down and I’m making up the distance. We hit a sharp incline. The snow is falling thickly now and I'm stuck behind a van with a trailer on the back. He's sliding all over the place and I desperately want to overtake. He won't pull over to let me pass. I could flash him but I hate it when people do that to me so restrain myself. Finally, using training I received in Finland, I am able to find a way to go around him safely.

Tough penalties

Past the snail and we're really going to have to push to make it now. All the cars are given a specific time they need to pass the checkpoint. One minute late and you get 100 penalty points, two minutes and it's 200 points and so on. My concern is that more than 30 minutes late and you get disqualified. Panicked, I resort to drastic measures, even jumping red lights. It's no use though, we can't find the checkpoint anywhere and we're now 40 minutes past our allotted time slot. We assume that's it: disqualification.

Crestfallen that we've fallen at the first fence, I'm keen to drive through the night but Debs thinks we should give up and find a hotel. The first one we stop at in Chambéry is full; strangely the next one is too. We've wasted an hour just faffing. Suddenly we get a call from Jason with the news that although we've got loads of penalty points we're not disqualified. Debra is now in tired mode. It's difficult to motivate her, especially as she's such a competitive sportswoman, and in terms of winning the Ladies Cup we've suffered a huge set back.

Back on track

She agrees to set off again and we're back on track until, half way up a mountain, the engine cuts out. Maybe it is an oil problem? A French guy stops to help. He says the closest garages are five kilometres up or 15 kilometres down. We're not going up so I somehow do a three-point turn and coast down the hill for 15km. When we hit the flat Debs pushes us around a roundabout and straight into an empty garage.

By now our flask of tea is lukewarm and we have nothing to eat; all I can do is wrap up in my fur coat and try to get comfy. Frustrated, Debra suggests we fill the car up with fuel so that we have one less thing to worry about in the morning. I do it, try the engine, praying for a miracle, and it starts. We'd just run out of fuel. We’re three hours behind but drive straight to the checkpoint. Once you're past the post, you're immediately given the next deadline, so there's no chance to stop. We've driven hell for leather to get here and it's hard to move on without a break.

White powder conditions

It's morning. We hit the Col de Turini, a beautifully snowy section of the rally. We're having brilliant fun up here, the white powder is thick, I take on the hairpin bends and manage to keep to 40km per hour most of the way. The only trouble is caused by steep inclines, then I have to put the car into first and chug my way up. As we continue towards Monte-Carlo I notice a lot of smoke.

I want to stop but Debra really wants to continue as we're so close. We finally drive over the ramp in Port Hercule. It's such a relief to arrive, albeit in plumes of smoke. After such a long and hard drive our rooms, and the mini bar, at the Fairmont hotel are fully appreciated. We sleep well that night.

Next morning and Kurt, our mechanic, thinks the smoke is the result of burning too much water. We just need to keep it topped up during the next stage. The water tank’s full but the Guilietta refuses to start. This is when Kurt hits us with devastating news: over-revving the car the day before has damaged the sterner, if we drive today the head gasket could blow. We have to quit there and then. Bearing in mind that I did not finish the year before I am bitterly disappointed.

Hard lessons learned

I can see now where I’ve made mistakes. Firstly, I didn't know the car well enough. I didn't, for example, know when to fill it up with fuel, which is pretty crucial when you don't have a fuel gauge. I'm also cross I didn’t overtake the van sooner. I'm too polite. If I had been French or Italian I would have been flashing and beeping. Next time, I'll be more aggressive. You can only learn from experience. Given the chance again, I’m sure we would nail it.

I hope I get another chance. The RMCH is such an important event, it's a real privilege to take part. It isn't easy to get in and requires skill: you have to navigate well, cope with old unreliable cars and negotiate dangerous roads, especially on the mountain roads. It's a big challenge but I love it:for me, the adrenaline rush is like nothing else on earth."

Anna-Louise was talking to Hannah Marshall