The Defender Trophy Challenge in Kaohsiung tests decision-making, while the Defender 110 V8 in Singapore performs like a machine that feels less like transport and more like a capable accomplice
I am not what one would call an outdoorsy person. The two pairs of boots I own serve more hedonism than utility, and my idea of connecting with nature usually involves driving somewhere scenic and unpacking a picnic on the beach (or any acceptable patch of grass, really). But after getting acquainted with the Defender 110 V8 in the urban jungle that is Singapore, I found myself strangely willing to test the same car in a proper jungle.
Enter the Defender Trophy Challenge, or at least a press-friendly version of it. One that saw me, a gaggle of other journalists, and a convoy of Defenders deposited into the Kaohsiung wilderness with the kind of itinerary that reads suspiciously like a dare: follow the course, trust the car, and try not to embarrass yourself before lunch.
But we’ll get back to that.
It feels only fair to start at the beginning, which is to say: a cramped CBD carpark in Singapore, and me being more than mildly concerned. The Defender towered over the other cars in a narrow lot, and I could already picture it, the world’s most tragic opening line: “The test drive started with a scratch.” Thankfully, the 3D Surround Camera earned its keep, and I managed to inch out of the lot unscathed, dignity intact.
Once you’re on the move, the 110 V8 has a way of making you forget you were ever worried. It helps that Meridian Surround Sound comes as standard, so yes, the audio is crisp and properly premium. But I’ll admit something slightly uncouth for a luxury car review: half the time, I preferred the cabin quiet. There is a low growl to this V8 that feels far too good to drown out, backed by the sort of numbers that explain the confidence: some 419 hp, 550 Nm, and a 0 to 100 km/h sprint in 5.8 seconds.
And then there’s the height. Much like the Mercedes-Benz G 580 I drove a couple of months ago, sitting up here gives you a calm, commanding view of the road, as if you’re watching traffic unfold a few seconds earlier than everyone else. It’s intoxicating, but the only moment that confidence falters is, ironically, when you’re approaching a carpark. There’s that same involuntary ducking before the gantry, as though lowering your head might somehow shave off a few millimetres of clearance. Scraping the roof of the car, I decided, is not a vibe. It certainly wouldn’t match how good I felt behind the wheel.
Bringing it on
Feeling cool in Singapore was one thing. It’s another matter entirely when the road disappears. Kaohsiung was where the Defender Trophy Challenge came in, and where my “outdoorsy” credentials, such as they were, would be thoroughly audited. Land Rover’s Defender Trophy is a multi-stage test of wit, willpower, and teamwork, staged in the mountains of Southern Taiwan, with competitors vying for spots in the global finals. Our version, mercifully scaled back but still humbling, offered a glimpse of what that spirit actually looks like when you’re the one in the driver’s seat.
We were dropped at an adventure camp-style set-up, and after a quick run-through of what not to do (which, naturally, is everything your anxious brain tries to do anyway), we pulled on personalised competition bibs and split into teams, instantly transformed from journalists into people who suddenly cared deeply about cones, ropes, and not letting their teammates down.
The first exercise was deceptively simple: drive along a row of cones, except there was a pole strapped to the rear of the Defender, turning your turning radius into a public spectacle. One wrong angle and you’d clip a cone you weren’t even looking at.
Then came what I can only describe as a circle of consequences: a demarcated ring with poles planted in the ground, just wide enough for the car, and the task was to exit the same way you came in by performing a ten-million-point turn, all without striking any poles.
The off-road course was where the Defender became something else entirely. Mud that wanted to hold your tyres. Water deep enough to give you pause. Giant rocks that turned the cabin into a slow-motion shuffle. Yet the car’s composure stayed stubbornly intact. Between its off-road systems and the sheer advantage of that high, commanding visibility, it felt less like driving and more like being coached through the course by the machine itself.
By day two, we graduated from controlled challenges to applying what we’d learnt: a convoy of ten cars creeping up a private mountain trail, then picking our way back down, tyres finding grip where you least expected it, before Kaohsiung eventually returned us to tarmac and a scenic drive through Southern Taiwan.
Somewhere between the mud, the ropes, and the very unglamorous angles, something clicked. The Defender 110 V8 is still the car that makes you feel composed in a CBD carpark, and it still has a growl worth turning the music down for. But Kaohsiung reframed it entirely: not as an accessory to adventure, but as the reason you can attempt it in the first place. And for someone whose boots are more form than function, that feels dangerously like an invitation to do it all again.
