The legend of the Blue Train race begins with a mix of charisma, daring, and a fair amount of whisky. In the late 1920s, the reputation of the railway as the swiftest way to travel across Europe seemed untouchable. Yet it only took a spirited bet made in the bar of a stylish Cannes hotel for that certainty to be shaken forever. At the heart of this story is Woolf Barnato, a wealthy entrepreneur, Le Mans champion, and then-chairman of Bentley Motors. His wager: he could drive his Bentley Speed Six faster from the French Riviera to London than the celebrated Train Bleu could carry passengers from Cannes to Calais.
A Clash of Titans: Private Car Versus Express Train
Barnato, known as much for his love of adventure as his business acumen, wasn’t alone on this madcap journey. Beside him sat Dale Bourne, an amateur golfer roped into the role of co-driver. The plan was simple in theory but audacious in practice. Racing against the Train Bleu—a luxury express running from Calais on the English Channel to Menton on the Côte d’Azur—Barnato staked a sizable sum, rumored to be as much as 200 pounds sterling, a fortune by any standard, on the reliability and performance of his 6 ½-liter, nearly 150-horsepower Bentley.
Preparation was meticulous. The wild ride started after the train’s scheduled departure in the evening. Extra fuel cans were packed to avoid the perils of shuttered filling stations during the night. Strategic stops included a late-night refill at a Lyon garage and securing a fuel truck in Auxerre for the early hours. The Speed Six, now significantly heavier with spare fuel, lumbered along, its top speed capped at 130 km/h—a pace that nonetheless beat the express train’s own limit.
Obstacles on the Road
As with any grand adventure, the journey was not without its dramas. Torrential rain brought poor visibility and treacherous driving conditions. A critical delay came after a wasted 20 minutes searching in Auxerre for a misplaced fuel truck. Worse still, a flat tire occurred—with only a single spare on board, it became clear that another such mishap could spell disaster. Near Paris, exhaustion caught up with Barnato, who handed over control to Bourne for a critical two-hour stint.
Yet, they pressed on. By half-past ten in the morning, the Bentley reached Boulogne in time to be the first aboard the mail boat to England. The finish line: St. James Street, London, where Barnato parked the car just four minutes before the express train arrived at the Calais station.
The Aftermath: Reputation, Controversy, and Myth
The victory set tongues wagging across the continent. It was a feat that openly challenged the dominance of rail travel and sang the praises of Bentley engineering. The French, however, were less amused. In retribution for this national embarrassment, Bentley was refused entry to the Paris Motor Show later that year—a snub that only added to the mythic stature of the escapade.
Modern travelers might make the journey on smooth motorways, but in those days, the route spanned roughly 1,200 kilometers of rough, gravel roads. There was no official timekeeping, no photographers on every corner, and certainly no Instagram posts to immortalize the event. Artistic retellings, like Terence Cueno’s famous painting, captured the drama but played fast and loose with the details. While many believe Barnato’s sleek Bentley coupé won the day, the reality was more staid: he drove a Speed Six Saloon, not the fabled Gurney Nutting coupé, which did not hit the road until months later.
Even the exact type of locomotive the Blue Train used remains a matter of debate among rail historians. Cueno’s painting depicts a model that likely did not even exist at the time, blending reality and legend in the way only great stories can. The painting immortalized the event, even slipping in a mischievous touch—Cueno’s trademark mouse, scampering across the tracks.
Legacy Beyond a Bet
The question remains whether Barnato’s race was the result of a formal wager or simply bravado fueled by drink and competitive spirit. Some retellings trace the origin to a napkin in the Carlton Hotel, supposedly bearing the terms of a now-legendary bet. Others credit the challenge to a newspaper inquiry on the Côte d’Azur, inviting drivers to prove they could beat the train to Calais. Barnato himself later claimed no official bet was struck, just his own ironclad belief in the power and potential of his Bentley. No matter which version you believe, the impact is the same.
The Blue Train Race cemented itself as a cornerstone of British automotive heritage. Bentley’s reputation for speed, endurance, and style grew, carried forward by models like the Continental—the ultimate icon of luxury performance, combining Lamborghini speed, Mercedes comfort, and an aura of exclusivity.
The Car That Lived On
The actual car that won the race, a Mulliner-bodied Speed Six Saloon, was later restored by an American collector. Its presence at shows today serves as a tangible reminder of the legend. Meanwhile, at auction, the “Blue Train Bentley” coupé—wrongly attributed as the original race-winner—sold for eye-watering sums, testament to the lasting allure of the story.
In essence, the Blue Train race became more than a contest between machine and locomotive. It was a declaration of independence for motorists everywhere—a sign that the freedom, thrill, and promise of the open road could rival the sleek predictability of the railways. For Bentley, the blue train legend endures, a wild and wonderful tale that tells of innovation, courage, and a dash of gentle British eccentricity.
Long after the dust has settled, this story continues to be retold, refined, and revered. Whether as a parable of engineering prowess, marketing genius, or merely the product of a few too many whiskies at the Carlton bar, the Blue Train race remains the kind of legend that can change the course of an entire industry. It reminds us all that sometimes, the greatest journeys begin with an idea so crazy that only the bold dare see it through.
Image: Bentley 1 of Barnato and Birkin at the 1929 24 Hours of Le Mans