Aston Martin DB11: delivering a Christmas tree from Scotland to London

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And both peace and goodwill are sentiments celebrated annually when the city of Oslo donates a giant Christmas tree to London in recognition of our country’s efforts during World War 2. This year we’re celebrating that enduring tradition with a delivery of our own, transporting a Christmas tree the length of the country from Scotland’s west coast to the Autocar offices in London, bringing joy and festive merriment to the editorial team. 

Aston Martin DB11 review

And what greater freighter for the task than our favourite British grand tourer, the Aston Martin DB11? It should provide some back-road thrills up north, then devour the motorway miles on the home run. Along the way, we’ll stop by Immingham Docks in Lincolnshire to see how the professionals do it as the big tree from Norway gets loaded up before heading south. Even without the detours and general wombling involved in photographing such road trips, that’s a respectable 550-mile journey. 

I know what you’re thinking, though: the DB11 only has a 270-litre boot – sapling territory at best – and Aston isn’t in the habit of selling roof racks. Online reviews of aftermarket ‘soft’ racks bear unwelcome titles such as “Stitching split” and “Kayak skidded down road”, so those are out, too. But with protective film on the roof, £20 worth of ratchet straps from Screwfix and some padding, we’re ready for action. 

We begin at Argyll Forest Park’s Glenbranter Estate, first leased to the Forestry Commission Scotland by chief gloaming-roamer Sir Harry Lauder. We’re met by visitor services manager Sue Morris, who invites us to follow tree-wise men Andy Kerr and Stevie Cooper in search of our star conifer. 

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Our DB11 is the full-cheese 600bhp V12, whose £182,660 sticker price includes £3495 of Morning Frost White paint and £4740 worth of diamond-turned 20in alloy wheels. It couldn’t be more incongruous following Kerr’s van, smothering nature’s sweet chorus as we burble past a sparkling burn and up a muddy track into shaded woodland. 

Then it’s wellies on for a tramp into the trees, Kerr’s tiny dog, Ness, leading us between enormous Sitka spruce on a plush carpet of bouncy sphagnum. Unlike the manually shaped, farmed Christmas trees you’ll find in most homes, we’re searching for one of the naturally occurring, free-range examples dotted around the estate’s rugged expanse of almost 10,000 acres. 

In an improbably perfect, sunlit clearing, we find what we’re looking for: a fine, bushy, six-foot Norway spruce. I’m no expert, but this is one handsome tree. 

Its counterpart from Oslo is perennially known as ‘Queen of the Forest’, so for commensurate regalness, and in honour of a fellow Argyll resident, ours becomes ‘Robert the Spruce’.