Water surges over the Defender’s bonnet, the supercharged V8’s thick-milkshake purr turns to a hungover-bear roar and, as the Wade Sensing display on the touchscreen (sensors detect anything over four inches of standing water, monitoring the rising tide to stop you going in too deep) assures me there’s nothing to worry about (we’re barely troubling a third of the Defender’s 900mm wading depth; the Land Cruiser maxes out at 700mm), we accelerate so effortlessly that the steep climb up the far bank is blitzed on momentum alone, requiring no power whatsoever.

Behind me, like an ‘anything you can do, I can do at least as well’ shadow I just can’t lose, the Land Cruiser follows suit, its glaring round headlights (you can spec rectangular ones for a less retro look) piercing the spray. In fact, the Toyota looks so good in my mirrors I can’t tear my eyes away, its lantern-jawed, geometric design language looking just perfect now that the car’s flanks are caked in winter mud. For so long a trusted tool to do a job, the Land Cruiser’s new look has infinitely broadened its appeal.  

Which begs the question: what took Toyota so long? Most manufacturers must scratch around in their loft for a car they might, on a good day, get away with describing as an icon – ideally without being laughed out of town. Toyota’s been sitting on one for more than half a century. When it comes to legendary 4x4s, Jaguar Land Rover is spoilt rotten, of course, with at least two: the flagship Range Rover and the more utilitarian Defender. And the two cars are solid gold performers, powering JLR to profits of £1.1bn in the first half of 2024, up 25 per cent year-on-year. And that was merely the latest bit of great financial news in a streak running to eight profitable quarters on the bounce. On sale for nearly five years now, the Defender’s popularity shows no sign of waning. JLR can’t build them fast enough, and the appeal of a great-looking, versatile and good-to-drive SUV with the all-terrain capability to breeze any apocalypse is obvious.

Hence the Defender-ification of the Land Cruiser. Toyota’s 4×4 name plate, together with Jeep and the G-Class, in inarguably authentic. All it had to do was make it look like a proper Land Cruiser, which it has, while gently evolving the hardware beneath to give the ladder-framed off-roader more polish on the road. And you know what? It’s worked. Despite some not-messing-about pricing (it costs £74,995 in Invincible guise in the UK; the First Edition, like our test car, is £79,995) Toyota has, after the first wave of UK customer deliveries, been forced to press pause on sales, so strong has demand been. Nice problem to have.

So, what’s it to be? Land Rover or Land Cruiser? What’s the best chunky-looking family wagon for active lifestyles/breezing the zombie apocalypse? To be clear, though, choosing between this actual Land Cruiser and this actual Land Rover is not an £80k dilemma. Yes, you can get a Defender 130 for circa £80k, though we’d recommend the five-seat, two-row 110 with the D350 mild-hybrid diesel.

But you can’t get a V8 Supercharged Defender 130 like this one for £80k, sadly. The V8 130 is £116k without options. It’s a lot of money, yes. A 2.7-tonne SUV with the power and torque (493bhp and 450lb ft) to launch 0-62mph in 5.7sec was never going to be cheap. (At 10.9sec, the 202bhp, 369lb ft Toyota takes twice as long.) But in many ways the powertrains perfectly reflect the characters of the cars into which they’re bolted. The Toyota is the more honest and purposeful of the two cars; the Land Rover the polished, luxurious option. And everything else about this Defender makes for a valid comparison.

Back on the road, river water cascading from various orifices like wrecks raised from the sea, these two mud monsters go about things in very different ways on tarmac. In the Defender you’re swaddled in what feels like several hundred of the world’s finest duvets. Road and wind noise are all but absent. Despite its chunky design and durable, rubberised finish in places, the Defender’s cabin feels and smells expensive – certainly more expensive than the Land Cruiser’s. Visibility is superb, adding to the car’s relaxing vibe, and the ride comfort is mostly sensational, the big Land Rover gliding over broken tarmac and farm tracks like a four-wheeled hovercraft. Thank its monocoque structure and air suspension.

There are some inspired little design features in the Defender’s cabin, too. Physical knobs and buttons for the climate control and engine stop/start are a welcome return to common sense, the touchscreen is lag-free and beautiful, whether you’re running Land Rover’s OS or your phone’s, and the rubberised charging pad, which slopes at 45°, is genius, ensuring your phone doesn’t slide about and drop off wireless charging as you drive. (The Land Cruiser solves the issue with little barriers to stop your phone straying too far). Knocking off the more annoying driving assists is straightforward in both cars, using controls on the steering wheels.  

In contrast to the Defender’s stunning refinement the Land Cruiser, with its gruff four-cylinder diesel engine, is loud. That said the driving position is every bit of comfortable and the cabin’s similarly unfussy interior design very appealing, though the Toyota’s cockpit feels more cluttered.

First Edition cars also get niceties like full leather and a head-up display but, while there’s much to like here, you’ll need to be a big fan of the noise diesel engines make to be truly happy. The racket is pretty much omnipresent, not least because the eight-speed automatic instantly drops a couple gears for even the smallest of throttle inputs, rather than using its torque (unless you slide the lever over into its manual setting). As such it feels like the thing never really settles down, and you pay a price for that chunky styling in wind noise, too. Like the engine, the battle between the Land Cruiser’s bluff prow and the onrushing atmosphere is not a particularly quiet one.

The Toyota’s ride is fine in isolation but can’t compete with the Defender’s compliance. Perfectly serviceable on the road at speed, the Land Cruiser’s suspension struggles with lumpier back roads, town work and sudden ridges. Off-road, it’s incapable of making a gravel track feel like anything else, whereas the Land Rover gives the sense of it re-surfacing it in real time as you pass.

All of which might suggest the Land Cruiser’s some ill-mannered 4×4 that should stick to the desert (or the mountains, or the moors, or the wherever). That really isn’t the case. Yes, it’s not as smooth nor as civilised as the Defender, and where long drives in the Land Rover are effortless, the Land Cruiser is tiring over extended periods. But the Toyota’s happier on twisting country roads thanks to its more sensible dimensions, less terrifying kerbweight (2.3-2.5 tonnes, depending on spec, versus 2.7) and superior body control.

Up to a point, the Defender’s just fine when driven at a decent clip, gliding through corners, instantly getting back up to speed thanks to the supercharged V8’s velvety punch and putting a smile every time you’re forced to slow down thanks to the gorgeous power and feel of the Brembo brakes. But try to really hustle and the Defender isn’t happy. Which is as it should be, really. The Range Rover, too, has a point at which it draws the line and is a better car for it. Land Rovers risk becoming confused when, like the Range Rover Sport, they chase dynamics.

The Toyota, meanwhile, feels agile and composed, and like a hot hatch by comparison. It tracks faithfully into turns with every nudge at the wheel (its electric power steering is new and, like the ride and engine refinement, is a giant leap over the previous model), summoning impressive grip from its mixed-surface Geolander rubber, even on cold, wet tarmac. And thanks to that super-sensitive kickdown, the Land Cruiser’s off and pulling in the responsive part of its rev range just as soon as you ask it too.

Drive like you left the iron on and the Land Cruiser’s fuel economy dips from 29mpg to 26, and the Land Rover’s – supercharged V8, remember – from 21 to 19… Choose a more sensible Defender engine and you’ll match the Toyota’s economy and lose very little of this V8’s refinement.