From the July 2016 issue
A distant thrum breaks the dawn’s silence, sounding for all the world like a C-130’s four huge props slashing the air high above the Utah desert. We scan the sky as the noise throbs nearer. When the source finally materializes, it’s actually ground-bound, a convoy of dozens of modified trucks jacked high on lift kits and oversized tires. What we thought were droning propellers is actually the burr of thousands of knobby off-road tread blocks hammering the pocked pavement. If a town can have its own theme music, this is Moab’s.
Tucked among the red sandstone domes and spires of the Colorado Plateau, Moab is a mecca for all manner of outdoor activities, from rock climbing to mountain biking to BASE jumping. But during the days leading up to Easter, all other pursuits take a back seat to off-roading. The Easter Jeep Safari, celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, is nine days of four-wheeling in nature’s harshest proving ground. Moab morphs into a fantasyland of lifted, caged, and rock-scarred rigs that line the streets, pack parking lots, and caravan off in every direction to attack trails with names like Where Eagles Dare and Escalator to Hell. It’s a kind of Woodward Avenue without the Avenue, and cops rarely impede the dream by ticketing drivers for trivialities such as not having license plates.
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Besides thousands of Jeeps overrunning this town of 5000 residents, there are passels of pickups, Toyota FJs (old and new), and purpose-built buggies wearing only a hint of production sheetmetal. Plus, this year, there was one $281,170 Bentley Bentayga.
As SUVs invade increasingly unlikely showrooms, the veneer of off-road capability grows ever more implausible. Does a Bentley trucklet really need a height-adjustable suspension or four different off-road modes? Will any owner understand the differences between “Mud and Trail” and “Dirt and Gravel,” both selectable driving modes, or would the brains of Bentley drivers just lump all those words together under the umbrella of “things that are outside”?
So we challenged Bentley: If the Bentayga actually has off-road chops, prove it. Let us take one to Easter Jeep. That’s how we found ourselves pitching a tent in a dusty campground alongside a Bentley. Its price was inflated nearly $50,000 from base, courtesy of extras including $5715 for paint that sagebrush and tamarisk, the local invasive plant, would imperil. Luckily we had the low-budget paint; there’s also a palette of colors priced at $12,530 each.
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A lunch of Thai chicken wraps on the Chicken Corners trail inspired us to test our “WAG bag.” The western vista windshield display is optional. |
The Bentayga’s critical off-road figures are a maximum of 9.2 inches of ground clearance, 22 degrees of breakover, and 25-degree approach and departure angles. People we met on the trails repeatedly asked us, but no, it doesn’t have a low range. Most agreed that, given the Bentayga’s 664 pound-feet, it doesn’t need to multiply its torque through additional gear reduction. And brakes that can stop a 5672-pound Bentayga from its claimed 187-mph top speed—15.7 inches up front, 15.0 in the back—dissipate heat well enough to ride them down steep descents without worrying. (This Bentayga’s spongier pedal, relative to those in Bentaygas we’d driven previously, suggested that it has done plenty of high-speed work.)
Neither does the Bentayga have locking or limited-slip differentials, but the stability-control system mimics them by activating individual brakes. Heck, we didn’t even have off-road tires, having made the decision to test the Bentayga fully stock. So while other four-wheelers rolled through the desert on burly Mickey Thompson Bajas and BFGoodrich Krawlers with generously reinforced sidewalls and tread blocks like clenched fists, we strutted on 21-inch Pirelli Scorpion Verdes, sized 285/45 and not at all intended for the habitat of their namesake.
The Easter Jeep Safari is hosted by the Red Rock 4-Wheelers (RR4W), a Moab-based club that rates trail difficulty upward on a scale from 1 to 10. A 7 rating, for example, means “mechanical or body damage is likely. Rollover possibilities exist,” according to the EJS guidebook. Rollovers become “very common” on a 9-rated trail, at which point “winches, spare parts, and tools are recommended.” The description of a 10 starts with “Let the carnage begin!”
Appropriately, we headed first for Chicken Corners, a 2. That description sounds friendlier. “County dirt road with infrequent or light maintenance after rain or snow; high-clearance light-duty 4WD required.” Here’s how a county dirt road in Moab starts out: It wends through pinched canyons as a narrow shelf between a wall and an ominous drop-off, gradually degrading from dirt trail to rocky path. The walls open up to a startling and humbling vista of distant fortresses and cathedrals, their layered hues of ocher and khaki sandstone bearing romantic names like Entrada, Kayenta, Navajo, and Wingate, each one with a distinct primordial story.
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Above 19 mph, the Bentayga (which is not the name of a sandstone formation but a volcanic peak on the Gran Canaria Island) automatically lowers to its “Off-Road I” ride height, and as the road climbed to the 4780-foot Hurrah Pass, the surface presented no challenge. When we rejoined the trail after a photo stop, our walkie-talkies picked up the moment a group behind us noticed the Bentley through the cloud of fine dust that trails every vehicle. “Hey,” said a voice, “is that an Audi ahead of you? What’s an Audi doing out here?”
“I don’t think it’s an Audi; it’s got a B on the back.”
“Must be a Baudi!”
We didn’t identify ourselves as the drivers of the “Baudi” but chimed in with an anonymous, “No, it’s a Bentley!” There was no response, but as we pulled off the main trail at Hurrah Pass, the radio chirped with, “Holy shit, it is a Bentley!”
Bentleys can—how to put this?—cultivate a certain class resentment on the street. But on the trails, people were unanimously thrilled to see it being used and tested. Our photography represents only a small fraction of the pictures shot of the Bentayga that week. Upon seeing our two-tone, purple-and-cream leather interior, one desert rat exclaimed, “That’s not four-wheelin’!” Right. The seats can both cool and massage your back; it’s something better.
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Top right: An off-road info screen tracks individual wheel articulation and makes the vehicle look broken. |
The view from Hurrah Pass cascades to the Colorado River nearly a thousand feet below and takes in the deep-blue potash evaporation ponds miles across the valley. The trail descends west into the valley and shadows the river on a ledge about 400 feet above it for 10 miles or so before dead-ending. When we encountered a few rocks sticking up through the silt, the Bentayga’s lack of limited-slip differentials didn’t slow it down. The approach to obstacles is the same: Ensure tire meets rock before pricey plastic fascia does, then toe into the throttle. Any tires still on sand slip, ABS solenoids pulse, and the wheels pressed against the rock grunt and rise up and over.
The Bentayga’s front-facing parking camera is an excellent stand-in for a spotter. As with many rearview cameras, lines on the screen bend with the steering angle to show the precise trajectory of the vehicle. With this system, placing a wheel exactly atop a rock or just an inch to the right is easy.
Looking for a bigger challenge, we headed to Cameo Cliffs, a 3-rated trail. We arrived to find at least 50 trucks queued up, and they invited us to join their convoy. This trail was definitely lumpier, the view forward alternating between staring at the sky and staring into the dirt. The sand was finer and deeper here, and the rocks poking through were bigger and sharper. Clambering over them without banging underbody bits was a balancing act of approach and departure angles and ground clearance, a geometric puzzle that evolved in real time, with expensive consequences for misjudgment.
As with many other high-end SUVs, the Bentayga has a hill-descent control system—basically, an extremely strict low-speed cruise control. But in this sort of crawling, we rarely wanted to maintain the same speed all the way down a hill. The best method was to inch up onto each rock and slowly ease down off it, then roll to the next one, slowly, and repeat the elephant dance.
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Yes, it looks ridiculous. But the Bentayga made it through unscathed. |
Hill-descent control’s modulation of speed, done by loudly pulsing the brakes, jerked the car and resulted in lots of head bobbing. Riding the brakes was smoother and quieter, though the pedal’s sponginess meant it was still an imperfect solution. Teetering on three wheels, we frequently released too much pressure and grabbed too much too quickly, causing unnerving fore-and-aft pogoing.
But the Bentayga crawled on, keeping its belly and bumpers out of the dirt and off the rocks, even as we tiptoed down several hills in the Cameo Cliffs that we were quite certain the Bentley couldn’t climb back up. Now we were really committed.
And that was a problem. It turns out we were not on the intended route. The trailhead is a stepping-off point for numerous paths, and our group had set out to conquer Jax Trax, a 5. It was shortly after this realization that we noticed ours was the only stock vehicle in the convoy. But the guys driving the two Wranglers ahead of us helped greatly, picking their way over each obstacle, then pulling off the trail and spotting us through, directing our wheel placements with hand gestures.
Between their guidance and the perspective of the camera, we crawled up and down even the nastiest stretches without anything but rubber contacting rock. After an hour or so of nerve-racking trails, we had proven our point and it was time to preserve the Bentley. When the group stopped to take a break, we said our thanks and bowed out down a flat, sandy exit chute that led back to pavement.
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Master of all it surveys (excluding the really tough trails). |
It’s between the painted lines where the Bentayga is most at home. With the air springs lofted up to their highest setting, the suspension runs out of travel and the ride turns awfully brittle. But in the lower modes, the Bentley rediscovers the stupendous body control that is its greatest strength. It’s more agile than such a heavyweight has a right to be, though it’s happiest hustling through high-speed sweepers. And the redesigned 6.0-liter W-12 needs very little notice to make any corner a high-speed one. Its 2.7-second 50-to-70-mph time matches that of the McLaren 570S we tested last month. It turns stationary into 60 mph in 3.5 seconds and slings the Bentayga to 100 mph in just 8.5 seconds.
Should an owner ever want to sling some rocks instead, the Bentayga can do that with similar ease. As we rolled back into Moab, tamarisk-inscribed pinstripes tracing through the dust caked on the Bentayga’s flanks, word was spreading that a Bentley was in town and its drivers weren’t afraid to use it. We were in. People peppered us with suggestions of where to take it or volunteered to meet up and roll with us on our next trail. A Jeep pulled alongside, and its excited driver invited us to join his group ride the following morning. A couple of guys flagged us down at an intersection, asking: “Is that the one? Is that the one?!” Yup. But it doesn’t have to be the only one. We proved that the Bentayga can handle some pretty extreme off-roading. The question to be answered at the 51st annual Easter Jeep Safari is, can its owners?
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