OK, the Skoda Yeti isn't the SUV of dreams. But it's a brilliant all-rounder, with a loyal following; despite now being six years old the Yeti had its biggest UK sales year to date in 2015, selling over 13,000 cars. We'll be seeing a brand new one ahead of sales in 2018 but, following on from the
Carparthian roadtrip
PH attended previously, Skoda wanted to give the outgoing car a proper send off. Almost literally when we find our back wheels pretty much hanging over a death drop to make room for an oncoming truck. More on that shortly...
Location for this drive is Bhutan. Why? Tenuously it'll be the local belief in the hairy creature the Skoda is named after. Practically it's also a properly exotic place for a road trip to prove that, yes, the Yeti can do more than school runs and supermarket car parks.
We start at the southern border with India called Somdrup Jongkhar in our adventure-ready Skoda Yeti Outdoor, complete with off-road tyres and underbody cladding. Soon enough I'm on one of the few roads in eastern Bhutan, headed north east to Sakteng Wildlife Sanctuary, apparently home of the real yeti. We'll be covering 420 miles in three days, on a stretch which a previous visitor counted had 40,000 bends.
Dramatic views guaranteed in this part of the world
Despite various discussions about rallycross in the Yetis, my co-drivers and I quickly realise this won't be an option. On the first day, I get into third gear twice, and change back down within 10 seconds. Such is the pace of life in Bhutan.
In the first two hours of driving, things start to get really interesting. As a Tata truck rumbles towards me, I'm stuck between an actual rock and a hard place. To my right is a landslide of rocks and to my left is a towering cliff edge leading to a ginormous chasm. Credit to the Bhutanese man a few cars in front who pulls the trucks over, so we can pass without slipping a wheel off the side.
I've barely seen any other vehicles, other than a Mahindra Bolero Camper, one of the coolest pick-ups I've seen in a long time. What it probably lacks in NCAP approved safety features it makes up for in utilitarian charm; just the job for these parts.
We expect the rocky, ravined and dusty road to disperse but it persists until after dark, unlit and packed with dozy cows walking down the middle and locals caught in the lights. Once at our hotel, the pay-off is a sky full of more stars than I've ever seen.
Yeti hunts the yeti. Unsuccessfully
We wake in the hilltop town of Trashigang, complete with its impressive fortifications pointing to an ancient strategic role. By now we're already well-versed in the capabilities of the Yeti's four-wheel drive and it's deployed for the majority of the day. We're headed up to 3,530m to Sakteng wildlife sanctuary to 'find the yeti'. Yeah, right.
I'm told the road is only a year old and I have visions of virgin tarmac and the heady heights of fourth gear. It is not to be. Dirt roads riddled with pot holes, huge rocks, ravines and fords made us a little queasy. While there was no tyre-spinning mud to contend with, the Yeti's Haldex four-wheel drive and Hill Descent Control are called on regularly.
I don't see any yetis, but I do get a cool pic with the sign and the Yeti car. I speak to some lovely locals, most of whom are evasive about the absolute existence of the yeti. The village mayor wholeheartedly believes though and says if I walk with him for two days, we can likely spot one. Much as I'd love to...
And if a Skoda crossover won't cut it...
Back from whence you came
After a sleepless night in a somewhat chilly tent we're back on the road for our final day.
I'm far more enamoured with the Yeti than I feel I should be, given that I've never particularly liked its styling. Ours is Indian-built, and sold there. I expected it to be notably worse than the UK one, which is built in Czechoslovakia but the differences are almost indistinguishable.
As we go back down the mountain, the front driver's side suspension starts making some very loud groaning noises, and we think we've finally broken the Yeti. By this stage, I'm amazed none of the convoy has a puncture given the many sharp-edged and unavoidable rocks, and thrilled that the underside cladding has limited the damage of some very loud and unavoidable bangs en route.
We check it out, and it's essentially all the dirt kicked up into the suspension and dried overnight in sub-zero temperatures. I persevere and within 10 minutes, the sound has disappeared and never comes back. Clearly the Yeti is not used to early mornings.
No actual yetis, but a pretty remarkable trip
Our return route involves navigating 'death road' in the dark, but it's surprisingly OK. Less traffic and no opportunity to see any scary turns ahead. Perhaps ignorance is bliss after all.
I'd have never chosen one for such a trip - who would? - but the Yeti has excelled itself. Admittedly, I have absolutely no idea how it handles itself above 30mph - I averaged just under six minutes per kilometre - but my former dealings with the car suggest it does just fine. Would I consider buying the next-gen Yeti? I'd need to be more convinced on the design, but I'm 10 steps closer than I've ever been. Bravo Yeti, and bravo Bhutan.
