The weather was behaving itself for once. No rain, no sideways sleet, no biblical Yorkshire nonsense falling out of the sky – but underfoot it was still properly soggy. The sort of ground that looks fine until you step on it and your boot disappears up to the ankle. Perfect green-laning conditions for the INEOS Grenadier, you might say.

There are a fair few lanes knocking about that I’m convinced don’t see much action these days. Not because they’re dull, impassable, or badly eroded, but because someone in a Town hall somewhere, has decided to slap a TRO on them because someone wearing a bobble-hat moaned. You can drive most of the lane, enjoy the views, get a bit muddy, maybe… and then you’re met with a sign telling you to stop and turn around. It makes the whole thing feel a bit like being invited to the pub, only to be told last orders were half an hour ago.

One such lane is GLASS Trailwise reference SD6876-01, that’s tucked up in the Yorkshire moors. I’ve driven the first section of it more times than I can remember in various press cars, usually as a scenic detour rather than a proper exploration. The views alone make it worthwhile, and the opening section can be a bit gnarly depending on conditions – enough to keep you awake without being properly spicy.

The lane wastes no time getting your attention. It starts with a rough, rocky incline that demands a bit of concentration and sensible wheel placement. Nothing outrageous, but enough loose stone and awkward angles to remind you that you’re not on a farm track anymore. The last time I tackled this section was in a Jeep Compass Trailhawk, which coped well enough but made it feel like hard work.

In the Grenadier? Entirely different story.

I didn’t even bother with four-wheel drive, never mind low-box. The big straight-six diesel just chugged away like it was mildly inconvenienced rather than challenged. No wheelspin, no drama, no flashing lights or angry beeps – just steady, deliberate progress uphill.

At the top there’s a gentle ‘S’ bend and, if the weather gods are smiling on you, a cracking view off to the right of Pen-y-ghent. At 2,277 feet it’s the lowest of the Yorkshire Three Peaks, but no less impressive when it looms out of the moorland. Today, sadly, the gods were not smiling. The fell was there… allegedly… hidden behind a thick grey curtain of low cloud and stubborn Yorkshire mist.

From here the lane mellows into a single-track affair with a solid stone base made up of large slabs and embedded rock. Easy going for pretty much anything with half-decent tyres. After the next gate, and there are a lot of gates on this lane, the character changes again. The track becomes a choice of ruts threading their way between exposed limestone formations and a tidy stone wall.

It’s actually a lovely section. Quite pretty, very atmospheric, and full of those “that’d make a good photo” moments. The kind of place where you stop, engine ticking quietly, and just take it all in for a minute.

Another gate later – yes, really – and things start to tighten up. The lane narrows, the ruts deepen, and the margin for error shrinks. This is where I finally slot the Grenadier into low-box, more out of mechanical sympathy than necessity. The ground was damp, greasy in places, and I could feel the surface changing under the tyres.

As the photos show, I had a choice: stay committed to the deep, well-worn ruts, or cheat slightly and take the easier, higher line to the right. Given the conditions, and the fact I had more than enough ground clearance, I stuck with the ruts. No point making more mess than necessary, and start carving out new lines.

A few more gates down the line and I started to question my life choices. Or at least my decision to leave the Actiontrax at home.

The Grenadier was still taking it all in stride, but the ruts were getting noticeably deeper, darker, and wetter. To the left of the lane was a proper boggy section – the sort that looks innocent until it isn’t, and then ruins your afternoon. One slip, one badly judged line, and I’d be explaining to someone why their £80-odd-grand 4×4 was gently settling into a peat bath.

At the next gate I stopped, brewed a coffee, and consulted Apple Maps on my iPhone to see how far away I was from the TRO’d section. The Garmin Tread 2 I’ve got on test had, by this point, completely lost the plot and seemed convinced I was either in the North Sea or someone’s living room. Okay, a slight exaggeration, but Apple Maps, surprisingly, was more helpful.

Transpired the TRO wasn’t far off, but the final section didn’t look overly inviting, it was tighter, wetter, and with even less room for error. With no real need to press on, and no desire to test recovery points solo on a weekday afternoon, discretion won out. After a coffee, a Kit-Kat, and a moment to enjoy the moorland silence, I turned around.

The return drive was just as fun and the Grenadier behave just as it should - though I engaged the rear locker during one of the rutted sections as it was a tad deeper than it initially looked, but again, it ploughed through without any drama.

I’ll be back at some point, just not alone next time – and definitely with another 4×4 or two in tow.