The taxi driver tells me on the frozen road back to the airport how refreshing it is that the temperature’s come up. “It’s basically warm”, she says.
The notion negative 11 degrees is ‘warm’ scrambles the antipodean brain, which only stepped off a 30-hour trek from Kingsford Smith a few days earlier — the mercury reading plus-35 at the Chasing Cars HQ.
We’re in Åre, Sweden, home of Scandinavia’s largest ski resort to drive the Mini Convertible on ice in Cooper S Favoured and sporty John Cooper Works (JCW) trims. Real-world relevance? Minimal for an Aussie. But it’s a great excuse to sample the Mini’s handling balance and cold-weather operation, and hone skills in a safe environment.
The temperature is mentioned because, apparently, the ice on lake Åresjön is as thick as anyone can remember. One of the instructors (who looks about 13) dunks a 30cm-long drill bit into the ice to insert the course sticks, and it comes out dry. Does that mean kiss the nearest Eskimo?
We’re unlikely to fall through to the water below though it’s reassuring we’re on the lake with what are very small, and ultimately quite light, little cars. With electrics making two-tonne the norm, the Cooper S Convertible’s 1325kg seems positively featherweight.
First exercise is the ‘Swedish Guitar’, a sort of jellybean motorkhana on ice, and after a typically brief, Swedish safety briefing where we’re told ploughing into snow banks is part of the game, it’s time for my first go.
Fitted with Nokian winter tyres with 4mm studs, the grip is remarkable. Not anything like dry tarmac, of course, more like a wet skid pan but with an even smoother break-away.
Engage ‘Go-Kart’ mode (you can disable the cheesy ‘yippee!’ if you wish) and the Cooper S JCW allows you to fully deactivate stability control. Though it’s front-wheel drive, using the paddles to shift back to first gear loads the front wheels up and can induce some oversteer.
Patience, gentle inputs and looking in the right spot are the three pillars to safe, calm skidding in a front-drive Mini.
Continuing the ‘warm-up’ is the iced Elk Test. We’re used to doing these on tarmac, which is unsurprisingly more violent than ice. It’s a simple exercise: approach the first cone, brake, wrench the wheel left to avoid the ‘elk’ played by witch’s hats, and then scramble back onto your side of the road and safely stop the car.
We start at 50km/h, increasing speed by 10km/h each run until the peak of 70km/h. It is remarkable how well the handsome, Ocean Wave Green Cooper S responds to the first jink of the steering wheel, though from there it gets quite slippery.
For an extra challenge, we try with stability control disabled. It feels daunting — 70km/h on ice is quick! — and yet the Mini’s natural balance, a low centre of gravity and predictable handling mean even with the systems disabled the car stays flat, mostly in control and ends up only a touch more skew-whiff than with systems engaged.
Big points for the clever ABS tuning, too, which allows you to turn the car under brakes even on the ice.
Next, it was time to channel my inner Paddy Hopkirk and tackle a flowing, high-speed circuit marked out on the ice with excess snow pushed into banks marking the edge of play.
You’ll see manufacturers testing cars on courses like this in the Arctic Circle, and it’s more instructive than you might think when it comes to powertrain and stability control calibration. Though today, it’s about fun and systems ‘off’.
Come out of the ‘pits’ and we approach a series of tightening esses, which lead into a tricky, double-apex hairpin at one end. The run back is more open, sweeping through into another hard-to-judge switchback I never quite nail.
It’s Countryman first for sighting laps. Being the electric ALL4 it’s all-wheel drive, so lets you get power-on-oversteer in Go-Kart mode. This is fun. But it’s also a whisker unnatural, and the heavy, tall Countryman feels closer to a knife-edge when it comes to sideways balance.
It is therefore the front-drive Cooper convertibles that prove most giggle-inducing with their relative purity. The JCW’s shifter paddles and slightly more grunt (170kW plays 150kW) are appreciated but it’s the softer, standard Cooper S that delivers satisfyingly tranquil slides.
Again, shift paddles or a gear stick are preferred even though the Cooper S decisively selects ratios, along with an ‘L’ mode to hold lower gears. None of these Minis have a limited-slip differential, instead relying on braking to minimise inside wheelslip, working quite well on ice.
Flick left, straighten the wheel, apply throttle to neutralise the oversteer, drive out, flick back the other way and do it all again!
The open-top experience amps the sensation of yaw as you peer, unimpeded, out the side and find ice crystals in your hair. As long as you don’t go too hard, the Cooper S lets you get away with it.
Warm, hearty lunch inhaled (simply called ‘game stew’, we’re promised it isn’t roadkill), it’s time for a scenic drive. There’s no point in not getting the full Swedish experience so the top stays down in our new black Cooper S Favoured.
I put on a brave face under my newly-purchased snood, crank the heater, heated steering and seats.
Why? Because the Mini Convertible shames you for closing the roof. The teutonically-named ‘Always Open Timer’ (we prefer ‘Openometer’) counts up the minutes the top is down. It’s been around since the Frank Stepheson-penned ‘R50’ generation Mini and is surely a badge of honour among enthusiasts.
The Mini has always been a small car and the drop-top loses boot space — the rating is 160 litres with the roof down and 215L with it up. It’ll take two small suitcases, the weekly shop for a couple or, in this case, insulated overalls, boots and helmet for the afternoon’s ski-mobile adventure.
Pottering along icy mountain roads, the huge, round touchscreen can be navigated with feelless fingers though it’s sometimes a little laggy. The head-up display is clear and legible through polarised sunglasses and even plays nice with Apple CarPlay/Android Auto navigation turn-by-turn directions.
That interior is so unique in today’s Minis. None of the materials would work in other cabins, the knit jogger-like dash covering, bold available colours for the seats and punchy paint colours.
The ride is firm but in a poppy, joyful way. Without a direct back-to-back comparison it’s also hard to tell this Mini Convertible has lost any torsional rigidity compared to the hatch — it certainly feels rigid enough. Apparently structural stiffness is why the older generation tail lights haven’t been replaced in the convertible.
While pondering this, one JCW (not down a bank, though that did happen later…) in the convoy was stopped as it couldn’t get its roof down (and certainly not in 18 seconds). We learn that if the temperature falls below -10º the systems won’t let you pop the top; the same when it’s too hot, as the Mini team found out at the global launch in Miami.
That’s a shame for them because there’s another benefit to top-down life: being immersed in the fruity bark of the Mini’s 2.0-litre turbo-petrol four-cylinder. It isn’t the last word in aural sophistication but there’s just enough character to keep you smiling.
It’s a similar tale for the handling. The steering could do with more natural feel rather than focusing on outright agility, and the chassis could be more playful. Yet the Cooper S does just enough to satisfy that irrational part of the brain that lusts for fun.
Parked up beneath Mount Åreskutan covered in snow, the black Mini rests as fresh flakes of snow settle on the paint and exposed back seat.
Underneath this snowy experience, we report on the Mini convertible in a time of attainable convertible extinction. Admittedly, Aussies don’t love cabriolets as much as UK and German buyers, but there’s clearly still interest.
Where once you could have bought convertible versions of family hatches — Holden Astra and Cascada, Renault Megane CC, Volkswagen Eos and others — the segment of these pragmatic yet indulgent cars has dwindled. It’s a similar affliction hot hatch lovers are experiencing.
Now, for a convertible under $100,000, it’s a Mini, a V8 Mustang or Mazda MX-5. Each is a very unique proposition. Mini’s schtick is providing luxury in a small package. This means extensive customisation, funky materials, and mildly hedonistic open-air motoring.
Mini had its best-ever Australian sales in 2025, led by the Cooper hatch/convertible ahead of the practical Countryman and funky Aceman. There’s something to that.
A fair way from perfect the Mini might be but it’s more than a car — it’s part of the driver’s outfit. And here, we mean that very much as a compliment.