'I went off-roading in a 2.5 tonne 4x4 to tackle my imposter syndrome'

Seven summers ago, I inherited a classic car which changed my life, a chariot red, 1960 convertible MG MGA.

My grandfather - who I was incredibly close to - bought it for himself as a racy retirement present, and after he passed away, I became its custodian. Navigating the transition from passenger to driver’s seat came with a bittersweet feeling of empowerment. It's a privilege and responsibility that has changed my outlook on life, my career, and how I drive.

With no luxuries like power steering or assisted gear change, forging a steady course in a 64-year-old car can be physically and mentally draining, but together we’ve conquered some of the UK’s toughest stretches of tarmac.

Working in the very male dominated industry of motor journalism, I have found that I counter the assumption that I’m going to fail by pushing myself and the MGA harder. I’ve left my comfort zone at the bottom of crumbling tracks to take on 33% gradients and disorientating, steep switchbacks. I’m determined to prove a point - and according to one expert, it's incredibly common.

‘Women are more likely than men to feel the need to prove themselves,’ offers Chloe Brotheridge, a hypnotherapist and coach who specialises in helping people overcome anxiety, ‘especially when they are in the minority in a workplace, social setting or sport.’ This phenomenon is often referred to as imposter syndrome, ‘where people doubt their accomplishments and fear being exposed as a fraud. This sense of having to prove yourself may make you work harder or spend more time preparing.’

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It’s true, I’ve pushed myself and the MGA to the limit, that’s where I’ve realised what I’m capable of, and so this summer, I set myself a new challenge behind the wheel. To do so, I said yes to an off-roading lesson in a specialised all-terrain vehicle called an INEOS Grenadier. ‘Challenges boost our confidence and resilience because we learn we can cope with doing hard things,’ says Chloe. ‘This self-belief transfers to other skills, so when you challenge yourself in driving, you might notice a boost in your confidence in public speaking, for example.’

Charlotte driving the huge SUV

Weighing more than twice as much as my low-slung MGA, it sits on 17-inch steel wheels and is everything my classic car is not. Designed so it can cross an African bush without breaking a sweat or breaking down, its four-wheel-drive set-up – otherwise known as 4x4 – sends power directly to all four wheels so that it’s got enough traction to get itself out of a tricky situation. Its steel chassis supports solid beam axles and there are front and rear skid-plates as well as protection for the 90-litre fuel tank. Meanwhile, my MGA has wooden floors.

Rooted in healthy terror, instinct is what kept us alive in our distant past. It’s primal and if you trust it, quite profound. Its purpose is to help keep you out of harm’s way, so as I set to the task of making a Highland river crossing in a two-and-a-half-tonne 4x4, I had to ignore the sense of alarm my internal SOS system was raising.

"Drive in, and don’t freak out": It wasn’t a word-for-word recall of the advice my off-roading instructor, Mac Mackenney, had given me that morning, when he introduced me to the capabilities of the Grenadier, but it was an interpretation that gave me sufficient resolve. Plus, I could always use the vehicle’s pop-out safari window, positioned conveniently above my head, if I wanted to bail out.

‘A small amount of short-term stress focuses the mind and helps us tune into our senses,’ explains Chloe, who introduces me to the theory that there are three different zones within which we learn; comfort, stretch and panic (stress.) ‘We want to be in our 'stretch zone' to grow and learn. It's where we're outside our ‘comfort zone’ but not so outside it that we're in the ‘panic zone’. In extreme stress and panic, it's harder to focus and learn, and we're likely to feel less capable.’

At the pace of an arthritic crawl, I introduced the Grenadier’s wheels to the water. Far from how I had raged down from the Grampian Mountains, my genteel approach didn’t sully my yee-haw, look-at-me-go moment.

I took great pleasure in causing a bit of a splash and though I doubt the ripples the Grenadier and I made travelled as far as the North Sea, as we plunged into the river’s deepest point I felt as though we could conquer anything we encountered in that brooding Caledonian glen.

An arial view of Charlotte driving in the river

Wet feet, and worse, were avoided because I didn’t submerge the Grenadier beyond its maximum wading depth, which is 20cm shy of a metre. Objective rationality and a smidge of self-confidence, had kicked in. This novice off-roader was finding her stride.

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‘Before leaving you to head off alone across the remote Scottish wilderness, we had to throw you straight in at the deep end and get you tackling a difficult off-road course,’ said Mac, a professional adventurer and British Army veteran, during a post-expedition exchange of field notes. He used the terms ‘technical’ and ‘challenging’, too. A powerful choice of vocabulary. What I’d signed up for was an earned experience, an opportunity to challenge my default risk setting. Once committed, there was no turning back.

Lurching one way, and then the other, my lesson in the boxy Fieldmaster Grenadier – no superficial styling here – was a bum-clenching rite of passage that took place in the ancient woods of Aberdeenshire’s Glen Tanar.

With the sun filtering through the canopy, it was a place of reverential beauty, but it was also a place where the terrain refused to relent, and with no disrespect to the Grenadier’s heavy-duty shock absorbers, I’m glad I took a comfort break before my tutorial began. The aged pine giants were witness to my trepidation, but no one needed to see me tangled in ferns and mosses as I took a nervous wild-wee.

As dry earth gave way to claggy mud, making headway became an arduous and dramatic undertaking. The Grenadier, it seemed, could defy gravity as it nosed its way up, down, into and out of tummy-tickling slopes, ditches and dips. The vehicle’s tilt, at times, was so extreme I thought it might heave-ho and topple over – but it didn’t. With clammy hands, I too valiantly ploughed on. Be still my hysterical, racing heart.

You won’t find a ’normal’ dashboard inside the Grenadier

‘It was clear that you were a skilled driver with a high degree of mechanical sympathy, [cheers, Mac!] so your approach was gentle,’ he appraised, ‘this slow and considered approach gave you the time needed to assess what gear you had to be in, and what speed and steering position, before attempting each obstacle. There was little room for error.’ My top speed during training? A lickety split 5mph.

The Scottish wilderness was breathtaking

Rutted, rocky, and often intimidatingly steep, observing and responding to the lay of the land with such immediacy, (mild panic), engaged me with the great outdoors in a way I’d never experienced. ‘For me, off-roading isn’t about trying to climb the steepest hill,’ said Mac, (although there was a lot of that) ‘or wade across the deepest river,’ (that too) ‘it’s about where the vehicle can actually take you. The escapism and being surrounded by nature is what I love.’ Well Mac, I’ll agree with you on that.

Chloe adds: ‘What's key is that you felt afraid but gave it a try anyway; it's the definition of bravery. When we do something scary yet emerge victorious, we get a buzz and a boost of confidence, and other tasks can feel more manageable.’

To prep for overlanding rough-and-tumble, proper training with a qualified instructor is a must. ‘Knowledge weighs nothing and will always be with you,’ he concurred. A calm, can-do and encouraging type, Mac has been working with British explorer Sir Randolph Fiennes as an expedition consultant for almost thirty years. Together, they’ve been to some of the most extreme locations on earth, including the North Pole. Danger is part of his day job, so it’s no wonder he wasn’t hanging onto the 4x4’s grab handles for dear life. ‘The Grenadier is built to be tough, it can take an absolute beating,’ he explained.

With Mac the instructor

In addition to maintaining composure, (Mac’s body language was super chill), his clear and concise instructions kept me back from an overwhelmed brink. Yes, I was emotionally invested, I’d driven well beyond my comfort zone, but vulnerability doesn’t impact a person’s capacity to do well.

‘Women are far better as off-road driving students than men as they tend not to have any ego attached to their driving ability.’ Cheers for the clarification, Mac. ‘The main thing I noticed was how attentive you were whilst I was explaining the vehicle systems.’ When the going gets tough, the best thing you can know is how to keep going, or so I figured, especially if the next manoeuvre is going to send two of your four wheels into the air. ‘It’s essential to understand your vehicle’s capabilities and limitations in order to get the maximum out of it. I’ve not come across another mode of transport that is better suited for experiencing this incredible planet that we live on.’

Getting your head around the technical bits, admitted Mac, ‘can be mind boggling,’ but in a Grenadier, the process is as analogue as it can get. Set up like an aircraft cockpit, (my aviators were a fitting choice,) there were copious amounts of switches and buttons to flick, twiddle and press. Each one engaged a different function, from air-con (flustered hot flushes be gone!) to hill descent control and various differential locks – the latter transfers power between axles to maximise grip. With the Grenadier’s flips and switches mastered, Mac informed me I was ready to be released into the Cairngorms National Park on a designated unpaved route.

I didn’t see another soul for miles after leaving Mac in my rear-view and my onward journey felt like a natural progression. Trepidation had turned to trust; in myself, as well as the Grenadier. My Highland fling in a 4x4 had been a liminal experience, where human spirit, ingenuity and nature conversed. My instinct was convinced; you take calculated risks when you’re off-roading, not unnecessary ones.

The car is designed for all terrain - even deep water

Chloe offers her final thoughts: ‘You rose to the challenge and showed yourself what you're capable of. You took a risk under the watchful eye of someone with lots of experience, which meant it was a safe way to challenge yourself and expand your possibilities. Whatever comes next, you'll always have this experience as a source of resilience and confidence.’

It was with great reluctance that I relinquished the keys – with a £76,000 starting price for the five-seater station wagon model I drove I’ll need to write a few more articles before I can afford one – but the compensation was that I’d unlocked new potential.

Try it!

Mac lent his off-roading expertise on behalf of The Event Agency Ltd

If you’d like to try off-roading visit https://www.borda.org.uk

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