Everything in South Africa seems a little more, well, vast. From its awe-inspiring landscapes to the chest measurements of its rugby players, things south of the equator tend to be just a little more prodigious.
So it seems somewhat appropriate that it’s high up in the Stellenbosch Vineyards that Rolls-Royce has decided to host the launch of its latest model, the Dawn.
Against a mountainous backdrop so mesmerising it would have made Ansel Adams pack up his camera and call it a day, Rolls-Royce’s ebullient director for global communications, Richard Carter, waxes lyrical about the origins of the 1952 Silver Dawn Coupé, and the sense of optimism it inspired across war-torn Europe, returning to its owners a sense of la dolce vita.
This was the car that served as inspiration for the Goodwood design team to create “that rarest of things: a new Rolls-Royce”, he enthuses.
The timing of this resurrection of the Dawn moniker, and the move away from the company’s more usual spectral nomenclature is by no means a coincidence. Following the global economic crash in 2008, the luxury-automotive market was widely affected, but in the past few years, that stagnancy has all but abated. This new Dawn, then, signals a more optimistic outlook for the company, not least because it has already filled Goodwood’s order book for the next year and a half.
And it’s not surprising why. At a top-secret, closed-room event in Monaco last August, I was present as Rolls-Royce’s design chief, Giles Taylor, pulled the covers off the Dawn.
Its beautifully proportioned body is adorned with subtle lines that mimic that of the ostentatious 1950s car, which served as muse. There’s a sweeping waistline that starts at the drooping prow, upon which sits the forward-leaning Spirit of Ecstasy, and culminates in the muscular haunches of the rear quarter, resting over softly flared wheel arches. It all adds up to give this new Dawn a sensual, yet purposeful air.
Then, there was the interior of that initial show car. Four cosseting seats, replete with gloriously vibrant orange leather, added a sense of whimsy that juxtaposed the dark canadel wood panelling that covered the rear deck and doors, and flowed through the centre of the cabin. It was breathtaking in both its confidence and beauty. I was immediately besotted.
And here I am, months later, on a gorgeous autumn day in the southern hemisphere, where I get to embark on a journey circling one of the most visually stunning spots, not just in South Africa, but arguably the world, in this magnificent motor car.
And, like its monolithic surroundings – that of the Jonkershoek Nature Reserve mountain range – it’s vast. At nearly two metres wide, more than five metres long and weighing north of two-and-a-half tonnes even when empty, it’s fair to say that the Dawn has a certain presence that’s hard to ignore.
However, when I slide behind the wheel and close the large coach-style door (automatically with a button, of course), the Dawn seems to shrink around me, but maybe that’s down to the high beltline that encloses the cabin, and the seats that hug you in all the right places, and even massage you, should you be feeling a little stressed about your immense wealth.
As one would expect from a Rolls, they adjust hydraulically in every direction with silky ease, to a driving position more conducive to my five feet, nine inches, than the languid attitude adopted by all six feet and 10 inches of my co-pilot’s frame.
With the equanimity of a butler gently clearing his throat to discreetly get his master’s attention, the mighty 6.6-litre, twin-turbocharged V12 sighs awake at the push of a button. As I pull out into the Sunday afternoon traffic, like any of its kin, the Dawn commands respect, and other road users happily concede position to let me in.
The first thing that strikes me is how big the wing mirrors are – seemingly the size of small television sets – and how high up they sit. They appear directly in my field of vision as I look right to check the flow of oncoming traffic, and sit rather awkwardly just to the left of the A-pillar on the opposite side of the car, again encumbering my view. It’s a damned nuisance, but, as it’s so succinctly pointed out to me by my lanky driving partner that I’m a bit “vertically challenged” I just get on with it.
Fortunately, there are enough hidden driver aids to make up for the lack of visibility out of the quarter-light, ranging from rear-facing cameras, proximity alerts, lane-adherence warnings, automatic braking, satellite-aided transmission ... the list goes on.
In retrospect, finding a negative counterbalance in the interests of objective journalism early on, makes the superlative-laden prose that is set to follow, easier to deliver.
Traversing the, frankly epic Chapman’s Peak Drive and the monumentally fabulous Faure Marine Drive towards Rooi-Els, both vertiginous coastal roads that run the length of False Bay and Gordon’s Bay, respectively, is a joy.
While the proportions of the Dawn are more akin to the Ghost, the steering dynamic is most definitely Wraith; I can easily control the car with just thumb and forefinger on the wheel, but when I take a particularly blind and sweeping corner at speed, I feel a nominal amount of the Dawn’s heft, which provides some feedback as to where the car is positioned on the road.
I find myself in an almost trance-inducing rhythm, as I swing the car from bend to bend. The power delivery, too, is effortlessly smooth, but when I bring all 570 West Sussex horses to bear under more forceful acceleration, there’s an immediate pick up from the Dawn, as it rears back, albeit gently, and that understated V12 growl, familiar to Wraith drivers, emanates mischievously from beneath the magic carpet as it takes off with fleeting purpose.
All this occurs with the most imperceptible of gear changes from the consummately engineered eight-speed, dual-clutch automatic gearbox, and with immense amounts of torque – 780Nm – at my disposal from just 1,500rpm. It’s like strapping a Saturn V rocket to your apartment block, and pressing the “lift-off” button.
Through all of this, with the windows up and the top down, it’s still easy to have a conversation at a civilised volume. However, when I raise the canvas, which can be done in about 22 seconds while still moving at 50kph, the cabin is as quiet as any fixed-roof Rolls-Royce. In fact, the company claims that noise levels are a few decibels lower than that of the Wraith, and I’m inclined to believe it.
Every great masterpiece bears the artist’s signature, and the road where I spend my last hour piloting this tremendous machine twists and turns as if it were a flourish left by god himself. And, like a diamond-tipped pencil dipped in golden ink, the Rolls-Royce Dawn traces it beautifully.
To experience this glorious place, in such a luxurious fashion, is nothing short of otherworldly. It was billed as a “Tour de Cap”, but in the Dawn it is so much more than that. It is a veritable tour de force.
The Rolls-Royce Dawn is on sale now, priced from Dh1.4 million.
motoring@thenational.ae
