Rally Australia: on the up Down Under

Following Mikko Hirvonen's advice would kill me. There was absolutely no doubt about it. I lifted. I lived.

Fleet Streeter Jerry Williams and I had ventured out of the press office in search of a feel for the roads, what with two years having passed since we were last here. Maybe the passing of time had dimmed the memory of the fearsome speed on some of the New South Wales stages.

It was all rushing back now.

The speed was one thing - admittedly a very big thing - but the other issue with some sections of the Sunday stages in particular was the change from solid base and good grip to virtual fesh fesh. This was the conundrum I was grappling with right now. The sand was the product of rainwater gathering and drying in a dip in the road. And given that there hadn't been any rain for three months, a lot of drying had made a lot of sand.

"Flat out. Straight over it," had been the advice from my rally-driving unhinged Finnish friend.

So, ignoring the fact that this compression was full of direction-diverting talc, not to mention being bordered by Eucalyptus trees of a Pavarotti-like girth, we dived in. Flat. In second.

Our Budget-sourced Nissan Micra had a massive wobble as all four wheels departed Australia and floated through the powder.

As soon as I regained control. I stopped, got out, and had an overwhelming desire to hug a tree.

An unseasonably warm spring meant the snakes were out early © autosport.com

I wasn't out of the car for long. The rally organisers' warnings about the unseasonably warm spring bringing the Red-Bellied Black Snakes out earlier than usual, allied to some strange, borderline unnatural noises coming from high in the trees above, soon had me back behind the wheel.

But this was insane. This kind of speed made Finland look average. The stages in Oz last week were a truly spectacular challenge.

And, while the rich-red pea gravel marked Perth out as an instantly recognisable Western Australian event, last week's backdrops and vistas gave this east coast event a real feeling of being in Crocodile Dundee country.

Talking of Crocodiles, I'm afraid I might have done for one a little later in the Bucca stage. In my defence, it looked like a piece of wood. Admittedly, a piece of wood with legs. Anyway its last-minute move confirmed it really wasn't wood. Unfortunately, its Croc confirmation was also its final act.

Jerry told me not to worry because it was only a lizard.

Bloody wasn't. Crocs have to start somewhere, you know. They come in smaller sizes as well. I wasn't stopping for a closer look, even though I was beginning to feel more and more like Indiana Jones the further we advanced on the middle of nowhere.

I have to admit I arrived in Australia miffed at not being in New Zealand. Auckland remains one of the finest cities on earth and the gravel roads that wind their way out and across the North Island are simply unparalleled. Yet, here we were on the wrong side of the Tasman.

I still hate the fact that NZ's not going to be on the agenda for the foreseeable future, but Australia was good. Great, actually. The organisers had learned loads from two years ago and delivered a rally that rocketed the event into the top half of the table. Last week, it made sense being in Australia.

There was still significant frustration at the lack of any meaningful Sydney content in the route.

Sydney landscapes didn't feature in this year's rally © XPB

Twelve months ago, event chairman Ben Rainsford told me we would be making full use of one of the world's most iconic cityscapes. Instead, a handful of drivers walked over the harbour bridge and that was that. We headed north for 300 miles and swapped the Opera House and Bondi Beach for Coffs and a big yellow banana.

I sought out Rainsford for an explanation. He agreed wholeheartedly. And pointed to the previous week's federal elections as the reason we hadn't been anywhere near the sight of northern hemisphere rugby's finest hour (that would be England's World Cup win of a decade ago...).

Next year's Rally Oz will remain on the rocket-quick roads around Coffs, but Ben has a plan to transport cars, teams and the rest of the show south to the city for a Sunday Superspecial around the Homebush street circuit at the Olympic Park. That will be followed by a big firework finish, likely to be outside the Opera House and then a beach barbie at Bondi.

Sounds like a switched-on WRC round really playing to its national strengths. Sounds like a ripper.

One person who played to his own strengths in Coffs Harbour was Sebastien Ogier, the world champion minus a point. You had to feel for the bloke. He drove an outrageously brilliant event, didn't put a wheel wrong and was comfortably the quickest guy out there.

Ogier's rally was worthy of the title. He drove like the world champion he will be in a little over two weeks.

The ending to the event was surreal beyond belief. As long as Hirvonen had been safe in second, keeping Thierry Neuville on the bottom step of the podium, the Frenchman's maiden world title was safe.

But then, the second run through Shipmans ruined everything.

Hirvonen got a puncture and dropped to third. He was gutted, having driven one of his best events for ages. Neuville looked slightly embarrassed about his party-pooping move up to second place. While Ogier just looked a little stunned. He'd done his bit and should have been celebrating.

Ogier triumphed, but his championship celebrations remain on hold © LAT

Well, he was. He'd won the rally, dominated it. Rarely has such success been greeted with momentary despondency. Ogier's time will come in France on the next round. Of that you can rest assured.

Remember when it looked like his time might not come at all, though. Remember 2009? A handful of rallies into the season and the Gap driver was bending metal and struggling to come to terms with driving a Citroen C4 WRC at the highest level. He was on his way out.

Fortunately for him, the team rallied around him and instead of binning him, they took him off a rally-by-rally contract and signed him up for six. What happened? Bingo. Second on the Acropolis and a first win less than a year later. Four years on, world domination.

One-off drives can do drivers more harm than good. Look at Kris Meeke. He's had two - and totally delivered in terms of speed on both occasions. But, in the most high-pressure situation possible, he's dropped the ball with the line in sight.

Remember what happened last time Meeke had a long-term deal (and I'm not talking about the Mini gig that went south...), I'm talking about his Peugeot drive in the Intercontinental Rally Challenge. Remember 2009?

Exactly: rally wins and the title by the end of the year. Relieving the pressure releases the potential and delivers the performance.

Meeke has the speed and the talent to challenge Ogier on occasion next season. Anybody thinking I'm being blinkered by jingoism, you might be right - but I was lucky enough to be in Australia last Thursday and I saw Ogier's reaction to the qualifying time Meeke produced to take four tenths of a second out of the soon-to-be world champ in just three miles.

Ogier rates Meeke. Hirvonen rates Meeke. Everybody rates Meeke. And, while team principal Yves Matton and Abu Dhabi ambassador Khalid Al-Qassimi will be feeling a bit sore at the moment, it was fascinating the see the way the team gathered around Meeke when he returned to service on Saturday night. The arm was metaphorically and physically around the shoulder. They like him. The get him. He wants to win.

So how about one more chance? But this time a long-term chance? How about Meeke in a DS3 WRC for all 13 rallies next season?

Go on Yves, you know you want to.