First Drive: 2005 Volvo XC70

Edmunds.com was invited to join a team of journalists driving the redesigned 2005 Volvo XC70 over 400 miles of punishing road in the remote Baja Peninsula. The following are some of his impressions which he filed by e-mail as he travels along the route.

Wednesday, Dec. 1

7 p.m. Arrived in San Ysidro just north of the U.S./Mexico border. After I pulled into the parking lot, and stepped out of the car, I found I could look across a chain-link fence to Tijuana. The lights of the city were glittering in the night. Tomorrow, we'll fly over that and to the beginning of our route across Baja Sur.

7:30 p.m. I checked in and the Volvo people gave me a special backpack for the event. They asked me to repack my bag and only take enough for the one backpack. Weight on the charter plane will be very limited.

9:45 p.m. In my room, I've become completely obsessed with the backpack. It's filled with lots of zippers and little pockets. You can even take it apart and configure it differently. It's for snowboarders and other radical dudes doing extreme things. I hope our XC70 bashing constitutes extreme sports. It's striking me as very brave on Volvo's behalf to let crazed auto journalists behind the wheels of their cars on such dangerous terrain.

Thursday, Dec. 2

8 a.m. We are driven to Brown Air Field outside San Diego where we're loaded onto two small planes for the flight to Loreto, Mexico. I'm offered the co-pilot seat and tread my way through the tight cabin to the front of the plane. Pilot Steve Holtzhouser tells me that we are flying in a twin-engine King Air 200 for the 530-mile trip.

8:30 a.m. We lift off and fly west toward the Pacific. San Diego is on the right while Tijuana is on the left — I couldn't imagine two more different cities. We turn south and are soon over the peninsula. As far as I can see are sun-blasted mountains, canyons, dried river beds and sandy valleys.

"We fly over this at night sometimes," Holtzhouser says. "You can't see a single light between Ensenada and Cabo. There's a whole lot of nothing down there."

10:50 a.m. We fly past the point of land where San Francisquito is located. That will be the finish line of our "El Malarrimo Enduro." I look down expecting to see a network of roads leading into the village. Nothing. That's not a reassuring sight.

11:35 a.m. We land in Loreto at a small airport with a thatched roof. Stepping off the plane and stretching we enjoy the wonderfully balmy wind. After customs, we're loaded into two vans and drive through the village which was once the Capital of Baja Sur before it was destroyed by a hurricane in the 1800s. The capital now is La Paz. Soon, we are eating handmade fish tacos in the Hotel Villas de Loreto.

11:50 a.m. A Volvo spokesman introduces the event and tells us, "If you do something stupid out there, the car will break and you will get hurt." It's really refreshing to hear straight talk from a public relations guy. But this is the beginning of the test for us and the car. He tells us that the cars we are driving are stock except for different tires, added cooling for the powersteering pump and skid plates. He introduces a Volvo product specialist who tells us that over the next three days of driving we can experiment with the new "FOUR C." chassis system. It was introduced on two other Volvo models but is new to the XC70. Sensors mounted throughout the car measure how it is behaving and adjust accordingly. A switch on the dash changes between a firmer and softer suspension setting.

Finally, we hear from Mark Thomas who is a flight paramedic who will be traveling with us. His opening statement gets our attention: "You know all those horror stories you've heard about Americans getting in accidents in Mexico? They're all true. You are at least 300 miles from the nearest hospital." He gives us a series of strong warnings and closes by telling us to carry our passports with us along with a description of our blood type and medical history. Everyone is very quiet while he is talking.

1:30 p.m. The XC70s are lined up outside the restaurant, already covered with dust. We choose a car and a driving partner and set out on the first leg of our journey up the coast from Loreto to Mulege. The road will be paved the whole way. My driving partner, John O'Dell from the Los Angeles Times, experiments with the different suspension settings. It seems to handle better, and provide better road feel in the firmer setting. The car is fast, tight and quiet. The road is narrow, winding and rough.

2:30 p.m. We stop for a break in Playa La Perela beside a cove with clear emerald water. Several motor homes are parked on the sandy parking lot and a mother and daughter sell trinkets. It's windy here and the outhouses are kept from blowing away by wiring them to huge stones. After a short, fragrant visit to one outhouse, I wish it had blown away.

3:00 p.m. We pass through a checkpoint along the road. It is staffed by very young soldiers with very big guns. I wonder what they think of this caravan of 14 Volvo XC70s? The guards peer inside the window of our car but grudgingly wave us through.

3:30 p.m. A huge double tractor trailer truck lumbers onto the road in front of us and separates us from the group. Naturally, I'm in full machismo mode and need to pass as soon as I can see around him. We get a straight stretch of road and I nail it. Gone are the old days of boxy, underpowered Volvos. There is plenty of power in this turbocharged engine.

3:45 p.m. We arrive in Mulege and check into La Serenidad, on the outskirts of town next to a dirt airstrip. An armed guard (about 16 years old) patrols the strip along with two very hungry-looking dogs.

4:45 p.m. Volvo arranges for a driver, Brett Leef, to take me into an Internet cafe to file my report. As we drive I find out that Brett has been racing motorcycles across Baja for years. "I scouted the road we're going to take tomorrow," he says in a drawl. "I couldn't believe how bad a shape it was in. I never thought we could get these cars over them. But I'll tell you what, we didn't have so much as a flat tire. I've got a lot of respect for this car now. When you see what we go through tomorrow, you'll know what I'm talking about." I can't wait.

Edmunds.com was invited to join a team of journalists driving the redesigned 2005 Volvo XC70 over 400 miles of punishing road in the remote Baja Peninsula. The following are some of our editor's impressions which he filed by e-mail as he travels along the route.

Friday, Dec.3

6:30 a.m. We wake up to the sound of roosters crowing and dogs barking. The journalists emerge sleepily from their rooms, regretting that extra margarita they had last night, and gather for breakfast in the Hotel Serenidad. The drivers and journalists suck down an ocean of coffee and then move outside where the Volvo XC70s are lined up. Bryon Farnsworth, a veteran Baja racer, stands in the door of a Ford F-250 4X4 and describes the route. They've marked the turns with pink plastic ribbons and colorful arrows but the local children have been removing the markers and decorating their rooms with them. He tells us we should stay together over the 140-mile off-road course that will take us from the Sea of Cortez to the Pacific Coast and then back into the center of the peninsula to San Ignacio.

8 a.m. The caravan of 14 Volvo XC70 and the F-250 pickup moves slowly through the outskirts of Mulege along a dirt road past cinder block buildings. The local residents come out of their houses and watch this long procession staring in amazement and occasionally waving. Their own cars are ancient American cars pieced together with different colored body panels. Stripped cars, usually upside down on their roofs, lie all over the Mexican landscape.

My driving partner, John O'Dell of the Los Angeles Times, is at the wheel guiding us along the dirt road that throws up a fine mist of dust. John fiddles with the climate control system and says, "I sure hope they put a good filter on this thing. We're going to be eating dust all day." Initially, I find myself coughing occasionally at what I think is dust coming into the cabin. But later I conclude that it was a reflex to seeing all the dust coming at us. No residue of dust forms on the dark sections of the car's interior, indicating the filter worked flawlessly.

Eventually we leave all signs of civilization behind us and begin climbing toward a wall of mountains in the distance. My map tells me that these are the Sierra San Pedro Mountains, some of which are 5,000 feet tall. I can't see any roads leading over them, and yet we are heading straight at them. The road is still a powdery yellow sand and we are forced to hang way back or we can't see the sudden holes or huge rocks that are in the road.

9:30 a.m. After driving for 27 miles we arrive at the first crossroads we've seen in miles and stop. Naturally, there is no need to pull to the side of the road. In fact, there's no room to pull over. The road is a single dirt track.

We get back in and start climbing. The road is a mix of toaster-sized rocks and loose gravel. It gets steeper and soon we are creeping up mountainsides at less than 10 mph. The all-terrain tires give us good grip and we never hear the tires spinning to grab a foothold. Volvo's "DSTC" system (dynamic stability and traction control) is programmed to cut power to the wheel as soon as it starts to lose traction. My fear is that the vehicle will bottom out on the high crest of the road or on a large protruding rock. Apparently the 8.2 inches of clearance is enough, even for a road like this.

10:30 a.m. We stop in front of a one-room schoolhouse on the right side of the road. Outside is a dusty playground with a palapa building of wood and palm trees to give the children some shade. This is the classic "one-room schoolhouse." Inside, seven children of different ages are bent over their books. As all the journalists crowd in they look up, a little overwhelmed. Bryon gives the teacher art supplies as a gift and tries to explain to the class what we are doing. "We are journalists from Los Estados Unidos." The kids stare blankly at us. But then Bryon wishes them "Feliz Navidad" and begins singing the Jose Feliciano song. They giggle and laugh as he dances and sings, "Feliz Navidad! Feliz Navidad!"

11:45 a.m. The road coming down out of the mountain begins to straighten out and turns to powdery sand that kicks up a thick smoke screen. We pick up speed going over 60 mph at times. The only problem is that, coming around a corner, or over a rise in the road, you might find yourself flying into a hole. As John drives faster to keep up with the car in front, I find myself making good use of the three grab handles on the passenger side. There is a chrome rail for my left hand and a sturdy handle either on the door or above the door. Holding on in this way I feel very secure.

"What's that in the road?" I ask John. There is a dark strip running down the center of the road. It looks a lot like someone is losing oil fast. Lots of oil. Sure enough, when we reach the lunch stop the hood of one car is up. The drivers went into a hole too hard and now oil is leaking from under the engine. It is the first problem that the Volvo team has encountered (besides a flat tire) during the four trips over this punishing route. These cars will make the same trip four more times. The broken car is connected to the F-250 with a long nylon towing strap and will be dragged along with us, a driver working the steering wheel without the benefit of power steering.

12 p.m. Our lunch has been kept in a cooler between the backseats so the sodas and fruit are wonderfully cool. With the cooler in place, the wagon only seats four people — or six with the rear-facing third-row seat. I eat next to the open tailgate while talking with Dan Olsson, director of Lifecycle planning, who tells me that the FOUR-C system stands for "Continuously Controlled Chassis Concept." The sensors send 500 signals per second to the computer which then regulates how much damping to provide to the suspension system. The system not only improves the ride and handling but will also prevent front-end dive on hard braking and squat on strong acceleration. A switch on the center stack allows the driver to choose either a sport or a comfort mode.

"Some of the journalists have been choosing the comfort mode on the roughest roads," Dan said. "But that's the exact opposite of what you need. On roads like this you should choose as much damping as possible."

I ask Dan if he feels the oil-related problem was a fault of the driver or the car. "If I spent over $35,000 for a car like this I wouldn't be driving so fast. I'd be more careful." I have to agree. We've been bombing along like rally drivers, not a family trying to get to an off-the-beaten-track vacation home. Still, Volvo research has shown that the XC70 will be used by the most serious outdoor enthusiasts. Paradoxically, the pure SUV, the XC90, is more apt to be driven to the mall.

The 2005 XC70 stickers for a base price of $34,810. But the cars we are driving are fully loaded and sell for just under $40,000. Overhearing this, another journalist comments, "You get a lot for your money. Basically, it's a jeep in station wagon clothing." Dan nods. "The only difference is that we have the longer overhang in the front and the back. Other than that it's like a jeep."

2 p.m. The Pacific Ocean appears in the distance and soon we are driving along a sandy road with, thankfully, no dust. We see a collection of phone poles in the distance that signals a village. This is El Dátil, a town so small it isn't even listed on the map. Most of the houses here are made of plywood sheets and, of course, there are countless stripped cars lying around on their roofs. The village children see us coming and begin running alongside waving to us and smiling. We stop on the beach and Bryon throws candy to them from the back of the F-250.

As I watch this fiesta I find a man standing next to me. I decide this is a perfect opportunity to try my Spanish. I find out that his name is Francisco and he is a fisherman, catching mainly lobster. He proudly points out his house which is made of pale blue sheets of plywood. A hand-painted sign is nailed to the house offering "Tourista Informacion." Then, amazingly, he begins asking questions about the Volvos. He doesn't recognize the make and wants to know if it is a Nissan or a Mitsubishi. No, I tell him, it's from Europe, from Sweden. Ah, he says, but is it expensive? Is it good on gas? Is it fast? I tell him its average fuel economy and that it's somewhat expensive. He nods gravely, weighing the information. After we shake hands and leave, I realize that our conversation is the same as the ones I have with American car buyers: is it fast, expensive and good on gas? I guess they have savvy consumers all over the world.

2:59 p.m. We come over a rise and see the cars stopped again. It turns out the car in front of us shredded a tire. It has almost come completely off the rim. The wagon looks like it's finished — but seconds later the Volvo team has the spare on and we're about to head off again. This is only the second flat tire in four trips over the mountains.

3:50 p.m. We hit the outskirts of San Ignacio and we are once again back on pavement. It feels ridiculously smooth. We drive into the town center where the mission looms above the town square. I buy a T-shirt for my son of the "Baja 1,000" race which comes through the heart of this sleepy town every November. Chatting with the store keeper he tells me the town's population is "3,000 good people."

7 p.m. I'm watching Ricardo Como, the owner of Rice and Beans, prepare his famous margarita with real lime juice and his own secret syrup. On a TV nearby are shots of the Baja 1,000 showing modified pickup trucks flying off bumps in the road and shooting 50 feet in the air. The support staff, made up of racers is glued to the set. We never hit the speeds these drivers reached but we covered a lot of the same terrain and made it in one piece.

11 p.m. Lying in bed and closing my eyes, I can still see the road in front of me and feel the pounding suspension under the car. At least we've covered the worst of it, I thought. Boy, was I wrong.

Coming next: Bad weather forces a change of plans and puts the XC70 to the ultimate test.

Edmunds.com was invited to join a team of journalists driving the redesigned 2005 Volvo XC70 over 400 miles of punishing road in the remote Baja Peninsula. The following are some of his impressions which he filed by e-mail as he travels along the route.

Saturday, Dec.4

8 a.m. We finish breakfast and step out of Rice and Beans restaurant in San Ignacio to find it starting to rain. We don't take it seriously though since, hey, this is the desert, this is Mexico. It's not supposed to rain down here. The whole idea of El Malarrimo Enduro is to show that the 2005 Volvo XC70 can handle the heat, dust and rocks. It had already proven itself in the cold, snow and ice in Alaska in March 2003.

8:45 a.m. After 60 miles on Highway 1, we turn off the pavement and head for the small town of San Francisquito on the Sea of Cortez about 80 miles away. With the rain there's no dust being kicked up by the 14 Volvos. Bryon Farnsworth pulls the caravan to a stop and goes from car to car giving instructions. "There could be a few pickups coming our way from farmers in this area," he says. "Normally you could see their dust before you run into them. With this rain you won't have that advantage. So be extra careful."

We agree to be watchful. But then Bryon leads the way taking off like a bat out of hell. Soon we're doing 65 and 70 mph on a one-lane washboard road. The plateau gives way to rolling desert and we're flying around corners between huge boulders. The surface is loose and sandy with deep ruts that grab the car's tires and jerk the steering wheel in your hands. "It's like slot car racing," John O'Dell, my driving partner from the Los Angeles Times says. The pace of the lead car quickens even more and I once again find security in the grab handles on my left and right. That and Volvo's safety record. But I'd rather not put it to the test.

The XC70 is pitching and bucking and bottoming out in deep holes. It feels almost like the back end of the car wants to come around. But I know from my drive through Alaska that the DSTC system (Dynamic Stability and Traction Control) won't let the car go sideways. We're going over 65 mph when I can feel the car getting loose in a corner. Because of the deep ruts and the loose sand, the car drifts sideways then snaps back. For a moment I'm looking straight at a cactus and thinking about the randomness of the universe. But then John catches the slide and we straighten out. "That was fun," he says.

9:30 a.m. We stop in a huge cactus forest and change drivers. I'm behind the wheel now as we set off again. Abruptly we leave the sandy surface and begin climbing over the mountains. There are grapefruit-sized boulders under the car's tires. Our speed drops to 20 mph as the rain increases. Puddles are rapidly forming. It's strange to see the desert under the low clouds and wet skies.

11:30 a.m. We can see the tiny village of San Francisquito and, beyond it, the Sea of Cortez. Below the village is a flat dirt area which must be the airstrip. The surface of the airstrip is a rust-colored clay. The first car goes down onto the clay and immediately begins sliding crazily. Now I'm on the clay, too, and I feel like I can't control the car — it's skating all over the place. All I can think of is sinking in this mess up to the door handles. Reflexively I jam on the gas and chunks of dirt are thrown high in the air. The car straightens out and then begins to float again. I glance in the rearview mirror and see the once-orderly procession slipping and sliding. Up ahead is a rocky dirt road and I head for safety. The tires stop slipping and I'm soon pulling up in front of a palapa overlooking the ocean. The driver from the car behind me looks annoyed as he steps out. "Why'd you keep your foot in it?" he said. "All you're doing is scraping off the top layer and losing traction." It makes me mad to be criticized but he's probably right.

12 p.m. A route coordinator radios the pilot of the plane who is supposed to pick us up here. They decide it's not safe to land on the wet runway and agree to meet us in Guerrero Negro back across the mountains. This means another 80 miles on rain-washed dirt roads. Meanwhile, we are served a delicious lunch of fish tacos, rice and beans by a man named Enrique and his family.

12:45 p.m. We won't risk going back over the slime that we came into town on. Instead we'll head out a different route. The only problem is there is a steep gulley that has filled with mud. Two local guys stand on the bluff looking down into the gulley supposedly as spotters to point the way. Really, they want to see these gringos get hopelessly stuck. When we drive to the edge of the sharp drop, it looks impassable. But then the Volvo plunges down into the gulley and pulls up the other side without a problem.

The rain has temporarily stopped and I notice that all around us turkey buzzards are perched on the tops of cactus spreading their wings to dry them.

1 p.m. It's raining harder. Deep puddles are forming and when we hit them torrents of adobe-colored water shoot out both wheel wells. It's not bad when we're going slowly but soon we are on level ground and our speed increases. Now puddles are deeper and we're going a whole lot faster. When the car in front hits a puddle, the rooster tails of dirty water fly 30 feet into the air. I can hear the water hitting the undercarriage like a fire hose.

"What's that noise?" John asks. We hit another puddle and then I hear it. A high-pitched ringing sound. As the brakes dry out in between puddles the noise goes away. Then we hit a puddle and it comes back. We experiment with the brakes but they are working fine. We slow to the side of the road but the cars behind us just keep shooting past. Everyone is in full get-to-the-airport mode. Finally the Volvo people pull over. "You might have a rock in your rotor," the mechanic yells to us. "Just keep going."

The rain gets harder and the puddles keep getting deeper. The ringing noise comes and goes. I feel what we are subjecting these cars to is worse than anything they would ever encounter in the U.S. "But what if you were coming back from Mammoth in the slush?" John asks. "You wouldn't want to put up with this noise." True, I say, but we're hitting foot-deep puddles filled with clay and mud at 70 mph. The slush in a Californian snowstorm would be a thin layer on pavement. And we probably wouldn't be driving like maniacs.

3 p.m. We reach the military airport at Guerrero Negro. Several of the other drivers report that they also had intermittent noise coming from the brakes. They all seem very relieved to be here, ready to return to the U.S.

3:30 p.m. On the flight back to San Diego, the plane is so crowded I have to sit on the toilet the whole way back. It's the only toilet I've seen that comes with a seatbelt.

7 p.m. After landing on an airstrip near San Diego, I begin the drive back to the Los Angeles area. On Interstate 5 heading north I find I'm strangely anxious. Then I realize why: I'm not used to having all these cars around me. In Mexico I was only on one-lane roads. Not only that but I feel like I'm still driving on sand and gravel. Looking at the cars in front of me, their suspension systems are hardly working as they glide over the smooth pavement. I begin to relax. Compared to what I've just been through, this will be a piece of cake.

Final Thoughts

Volvo must be very confident of the 2005 XC70 to subject it to eight 400-mile trips over rock, sand, gravel and dusty roads. Furthermore, Volvo allowed notoriously lead-footed journalists to push the cars harder than any owner would ever drive them after spending about $31,800-plus on this vehicle. The only injuries were an oil leak in one car (probably driver error), a flat tire and noisy brakes. None of the cars got stuck or hit anything despite the harsh conditions. In most respects, the XC70 outperformed many traditional SUVs. In a word: impressive.