My five days on the road with Trump revealed a man in complete control

Telegraph

6 days ago

When President Donald Trump flies aboard Air Force One he is accompanied at all times by a travelling press pool.
A TV crew, plus a handful of print reporters, photographers and a radio broadcaster have the responsibility of filing details of the president's day to the thousands of journalists who cover the White House.
It is their job to grill Mr Trump when he pauses under the wing to take questions or when he sits down with a foreign leader.
Last Friday, The Telegraph joined the travel pool for the first time, accompanying the president on his working trip to Scotland, where he visited his two golf courses, negotiated a major trade deal and met Sir Keir Starmer.
This is what it is like to ride on Air Force One and travel in Mr Trump's whirlwind. If you have the stamina for it, there is no better way to understand his administration.
Friday
Trump M&M's and Fox News
7.50am
Air Force One glistens in the morning sun as the 13 members of the travelling press pool walk across the apron. We climb the rear stairs and find our places in the rear cabin, which is reserved for journalists.
Think basic business class. Decent sized seats, but they only recline so far. The two TVs are on the wall at the front of the cabin. They are tuned to Fox News.
Newbies scramble for the boxes of Air Force One M&Ms, embossed with the presidential seal and the president's signature. They replaced presidential packs of cigarettes years ago.
'Is there wifi?' asked one new member of the pool. Not for us. That is just for the security-screened officials in the rest of the plane. We have access to a phone that connects to the White House switch board and is for emergencies only – to alert the world that we are diverting to Ukraine, for example, or there's some kind of urgent health issue.
Air Force One waits for no-one
9.36am
We are already more than an hour late by the time Marine One, the presidential helicopter lands. President Donald Trump has already spoken to journalists before boarding – and he makes a beeline for the Air Force One steps.
Air Force One is wheels up 11 minutes later. Once Potus is on board, this plane waits for no one.
We are quickly served breakfast. Tacos filled with chorizo, avocado and cheese with salsa on the side.
Strict Air Force One rules preclude members of the press from taking photos on board unless they are of a president during a briefing meaning no photograph of the aforementioned meal is forthcoming.
The food is good, but the pooler's worst fear is that the president decides this is the right time to appear in the press cabin for a chat. He does not.
Touchdown: A tricky balance
8.27am
The plane touches down beneath grey skies at Glasgow, Prestwick, airport.
The 13 journalists of the pool pile out of the rear doors to wait beneath the wing for Mr Trump to exit down the front steps. We wait under the wing – and Trump wants to talk.
It's a tricky balance. We'll be with Mr Trump for the next five days and don't want to infuriate him to the point where he stops talking to us, but nor can we lob softballs his way.
In eight minutes, he covers Gaza, recognising the Palestinian state, his relationship with Sir Keir Starmer, The Open returning to Turnberry, the Epstein files and Ghislaine Maxwell, immigration, and 'windmills.'
And we are just getting started.
Motorcade rolling
8.52am
Our motorcade rolls out of Prestwick for the drive to Turnberry. The visit is a big deal in these parts. People stand by the side of the road almost all the way along the route.
'Trump is a legend,' reads one banner. The number of well-wishers seems, by my amateur count, to outnumber detractors. Other people are just there to take video and catch a glimpse of the Beast.
Saturday
That's a lid
9.05am
The White House calls a 'lid'. That means the president has no more public events for the day.
That doesn't mean we won't be seeing him at all. Photographers in the dunes outside Turnberry spot him on the fourth hole, driving his own golf cart. He gives them a wave, as he plays past with his son Eric and his ambassador to London.
Sunday
'Where we off tae?'
12.02pm
The burly Glaswegian driver hops into 'press bus three' with a cheery: 'Where we off tae then?'
His breezy greeting sparks anxious grimes among my American colleagues in the White House pool waiting to depart the Glasgow hotel where we are spending the weekend.
And with that, our convoy pulls out into the drizzle for the one-hour journey down to Turnberry, where Mr Trump is due to meet Ursula von der Leyen, president of the European Commission, for trade talks.
Golf first, diplomacy second
2.45pm
An hour and a half later we pull up to the golf club. The Beast is moving through the car park near the club house, and 20 or so golf carts are drawn up around the 18th green. We drive past in a flash, but I'd say the president was finishing up his round.
Unusually for a foreign trip, Mr Trump is without his secretary of state, chief of staff and other heavy hitters, reinforcing the idea that this is a golfing break first, diplomatic visit second.
Oval Office 2.0
4.54pm
The meeting takes place in the Donald J Trump ballroom, a cavernous space edged with huge windows looking down across the golf course, and with ceiling space for eight glittering chandeliers. At its centre, staff have recreated the Oval Office.
After 24 minutes of questions we are ushered out by White House press assistants (known to all as 'wranglers') and back to our holding room, wondering what would come next.
'We're going back in!'
6.31pm
'We're going back in!' came the shout. The unlucky European press pack have already been bussed back to their hotel.
'We have reached a deal,' Mr Trump declares , back in the green velvet armchair. He spells out how the EU will buy $700bn of energy, invest an extra $600bn in the US and buy military equipment, in return for tariffs going down to 15 per cent.
Monday
Cursing the bagpipes
12.18pm
Sir Keir Starmer's Range Rover scrunches up the red gravel drive way to the Turnberry hotel entrance. He hops out with his wife Lady Starmer who is making a rare public appearance.
Mr Trump is at the top of the steps to greet them while a bagpiper fills the air with a Highland skirl. The three of them make small talk and Mr Trump can be heard talking about Ailsa Craig. Members of the media are crammed together by the flower beds.
I am ready with a question. Does the president agree with the Prime Minister that recognition of a Palestinian state would be a concrete step to lasting peace in the Middle East?
'I'm not going to take a position. I don't mind him taking a position,' he said. 'I'm looking to getting people fed right now. That's the number one position, because you have a lot of starving people.'
That's news. Has Mr Trump just given Sir Keir a tacit green light to go ahead and recognise Palestine? We can hear it loud and clear but newsdesks around the world are cursing the bagpipes, which have overpowered the television audio feeds.
Trump being drowned out by bagpipes. pic.twitter.com/8Tav4ngod7
— Molly Ploofkins (@Mollyploofkins) July 28, 2025
The thousand-yard stare
1.52pm
We hurry into the ballroom, where Mr Trump and Sir Keir are already seated.
After 24 minutes or so we know we are in for the long haul. Mr Trump is happy and rested after two days of golf and the success of a big trade deal. He takes questions on everything while Sir Keir almost disappears for minutes at a time. For once his expressionless face serves him well, although after an hour and 12 minutes his poker face has become a thousand-yard stare.
Air Force One (again)
5.09pm
We run to get under the wing of Air Force One. Mr Trump and Sir Keir have already climbed the steps and are waving goodbye to the west coast of Scotland. We scurry to the steps at the back of the plane and are barely in our seats when the presidential plane starts rolling up the runway.
A gift for Sir Keir
6.01pm
We land at Lossiemouth, the Royal Air Force base in the North East of Scotland, and are back under the wing by the time the two leaders descend the steps. Behind them Don Jr's kids come racing down, followed by the president's eldest sons, Eric and Don Jr, accompanied by their wife and partner.
Marine One is waiting, its engines whirring. The two leaders chat amiably as they walk across to it and climb aboard.
The pool is riding in one of four Chinook helicopters, which carry other staff and Secret Service agents. I take my seat – an uncomfortable canvas platform – opposite Varun Chandra, Sir Keir's business adviser. He has a huge gold parcel on his lap, wrapped in purple ribbon with the presidential seal – a gift from the president to the Prime Minister. At his feet is a paper bag crammed with boxes of M&Ms from Air Force One, which also carry the seal.
I balance my laptop on my knees and try to write my second story of the day.
Air and wind
6.46pm
Marine One comes into view over the trees of Mr Trump's Menie estate. We landed minutes earlier, swooping in low with a clear view of the huge array of wind turbines just off the Aberdeenshire coast. This is the development that Mr Trump fought and lost, igniting his hatred of wind power.
Tuesday
Words of wisdom
10.35am
Mr Trump is late for his own opening. The introductory speeches ended 30 minutes ago. The reason, we learn, is that the president is hitting a few balls on the driving range. Who can blame him? No one wants to fluff their drive from the first tee with the world's media watching.
He is in fine form when he arrives. Even the towering wind turbines out to sea cannot kill the spring in his step, as he thanks his family, staff and local dignitaries. He even, remarkably, has warm words for us.
'Thank you everybody, and thank you to the media,' he said in one of the shortest speeches I've ever seen him deliver. 'The media has been terrific, believe it or not! Fake news not one time today.
'Today, they're wonderful news.'
He cuts a ribbon and then, with a smark of his driver, sends his ball sailing down the centre of the fairway. That's our cue to leave.
One last gaggle
6.20pm
The TVs at the front of the cabin of Air Force One switch to show the presidential seal with a red, white and blue background. Mr Trump is coming to talk to us on the flight back to Washington.
A sound man sits on the floor with his microphone in the air; photographers stand on seats or an upturned bin; and I tuck into a cramped position just under where I imagine the president's nose will be.
After an agonising wait he appears.
He describes how he spent yesterday having good discussions with Sir Keir, 'although I see something came up today which is interesting.'
That is trademark Trump understatement. As Mr Trump left his new golf course in the North East of Scotland, Sir Keir announced his government would recognise a Palestinian state unless Israel announced a ceasefire in Gaza and committed to long-term peace talks that would deliver a two-state solution.
Did he know this was coming, I asked. What was his reaction?
'We never discussed it surprisingly,' said Mr Trump. 'It was never discussed, maybe a little in the news conference but he was sort of discussing it with you.'
It went on like this for 32 minutes, and more than 37 questions.
Somewhere in the galley our lamb chop and asparagus dinner was being kept warm by the patient cabin crew.
In four years travelling with Joe Biden, I was never once lucky enough to see him in the press cabin. We could nap over the Atlantic, confident that we would not be missing anything.
Over five days, Mr Trump had turned six events into press conferences, taking questions for 162 minutes - just short of three hours. For those travelling with him, it offered an extraordinary insight into the mind of the most powerful man in the world.
It is a highly effective media strategy. We can ask whatever we want but it also ensures the president retains a lot of control. The Wall Street Journal had been kicked off the trip days earlier, as Mr Trump went to war with Rupert Murdoch, its proprietor, for the way it had covered his relationship with Epstein.
Travelling with Mr Trump is a test of stamina and ingenuity. If he had stuck around any longer I might have run out of questions.