Dominique's Eulogy

Today was a day we had to say goodbye to our trusted travel companion and friend. Dominique. She gave Mikey his last ride, when I drove him to the airport this morning. I had until 1300 before she had to been given up. I went back to bed for a bit though before the separation and tears.

I drove Dominique down to the hostel I am staying in for the next couple of nights (Clean hostel, which is clean as the name would suggest). I dropped my bags off and then it was time for the final drive to the Railway freight station. She was performing like a dream, without all the weight she had lugged here, as if she knew what was coming and was showing me she still had it. She was like a dog that gets excited for a walk, until they realise they are going to the vet instead. This time there would be no magic medicine, Dominique was being put down.

I was following the directions the Adventurists had provided. However they seemed to take me onto a sandy track on the other side of the railway from where I was meant to booking Dominique in. But I didn't really care, we were both enjoying driving in the sand so much, I just kept going for a bit even though I knew I had gone wrong. The sand meant the steering went lighter and you could really kick the back out. Who was I to deny Dominique her final pleasure. It was a great moment.

I eventually realised that I was going to be late and Dominique would not be going anywhere without paying an extortionate amount of money (you'd probably think we were used to that by now). I swung her around and took her to the Mongol Rally graveyard, there were about 40 cars already there. We made it 41. The paperwork was filled out, the last painstaking process. Then that was it. I gave her a tap on the roof as if to say thank you. She had her issues but she had made it, even though it was touch and go at some points as to whether we would have to scrap her and carry on using another mode of transport. She had one of the smaller engines, 0.8 litre three cylinder engine, and many people thought she wouldn't make it, neither did we at some moments, but she has defied all the odds. She completed 10,127 miles through 20 countries on some of the toughest roads in the world. Thank you again.

Here is everything that Dominique had wrong with her during the trip. It is in no particular order, just how I remember them. The rear right suspension Spring sheared in two places, bodged using tennis balls and rubber Daewoo discs; bumper fell off in the Pamirs, launched down the side of a mountain; front left suspension had a sheared rod end which consequently ripped out the drive shaft along with gearbox lubricant, took six hours to fit the new spare we luckily brought with us; CV joint broke for the first time in Tajikistan, towed by MISHA for his friend to fix it in return for a fair amount of money, he also noticed the bracket hold the gearbox in place was rusted through so welded a new bit of metal in its place; CV joint broke for the second time in Russia after being stuck in the mud, replaced by an 'original' part which we think they just wrote the price on; CV joint broke for the third time in Krasnoyarsk, a day later, a much more professional garage helped us get a new one and found the source of the real problem which was the welded gearbox mount, we were not actually ripped off by these guys (a first for everything).

We went through 10 tyres, mainly due to the fact that the two front tyres were pointing inwards after all of the pothole hits, but I like to think it was Mikey's driving as he racked up 7 (we won't mention the Gears Ground chart); the fuel gauge didn't work; the fuel tank couldn't actually be filled all the way to the top as there was a hole which we noticed before we set off, one of us had to make sure the Mario pump attendants would stop before it all started pissing out; one of the original lights didn't work; one night sun was dislodged due to excessive vibrations; the roof-box had countless holes in it and was held on by two ratchet straps and the fact that it had moulded around the roof bars; the wheel arches had to be flared as the tyre shop only had tyres that were two sizes too big; the bonnet catch went; the sump guard had to be removed as there was so much mud and it was interfering with the gearbox; the power steering belt snapped on the second day, wasn't replaced until Tajikistan; alternator belt had been loose and squeaky since we left. Don't even get me started on the fucking seat belts.

There must be more that I have forgotten. But apart from the above everything went smoothly. Mot many people can say they have driven their first car over 10,000 miles in five weeks to Siberia. We couldn't have asked for anything better (well maybe). She has now gone to the racetrack in the sky. Hopefully she is using her Korean charm and flirting with the American Muscle cars, punching above her weight as usual.

RIP Dominique (2002-2016). 'The most stubborn Matiz I have ever met.' - Ed Blackwell 2016

All that is left for me to say is some Thank You's. Firstly to our sponsors: Fletcher's Solicitors; The Rotary Club; Milford Farm; Graspan Frankton; GoFilmYourself; Polyflor; Advanced Engravers; and Ben Murphy's Face. All have been great in supporting our adventure, without them we wouldn't have been able to make this happen. All those who have donated to our charities: The Back Up Trust; The Max Levene Trust; and Cool Earth, the page is still open so if you are reading this, I hope your next move is to the donation page if you haven't already. Finally, to you the reader thank you for coming along on this journey with us, it has been great to hear the feedback, it gave some meaning to actually writing these. I promised you at the start that it would incredible and unmissable. I don't think Uncle Ed was wrong.

Until next time. Over and Out.

Officially Finished

We have officially finished. We stayed in the Hotel Ulan Ude last night and awoke today at around 1300. We were catching up on some well needed sleep after the previous day's mammoth drive.

The main event today was actually getting to the finish line, situated at Altan Hostel. A stones throw (6km) from our hotel. Dominique just had to make it there and survive long enough to get on the train the following day. We were so excited to actually be setting out to bring the last five weeks to a close. The launch at Goodwood seems such a long time ago.

We turned up at the hostel, having got lost for a final time only to realise it was literally behind us with a massive great sign saying 'Mongol Rally Finish'. We pulled in and there were already about four cars there, the kiwis from the ferry and another team we had met in Dushanbe. That was only their cars, there wasn't actually anyone around. It was a bit of an anticlimax, if I'm honest. But I don't really know what I was expecting (Strippers, free beer and an oversized confetti cannon, that's what I was expecting), which is a statement that can traverse most of the experiences we've had in this trip.

I suppose that's what it is all about. I don't want to go into the cliche of how I found myself and I am now a spiritual person, because I did a thing, but there has definitely been a change in how I generally view the parts of the world we have been lucky enough to pass through. For a start I have a greater understanding as to where the countries are. The main thing I would take is how generally friendly the people are and how much they want to show what their country has to offer, be it scenery, food, or culture. This has been a constant in almost every country. However I believe our naivety has been quashed by the few events we experienced where people are very willing to rob you blind. It is an eye opening experience in both aspects.

Enough of that bullshit. We wondered into the bar to see if there was anyone around to physically let us finish. We saw the registration table and headed over. We were greeted by someone from the Adventurists. He said 'Oh have you just arrived?' We said 'Yes, we are here to finish the Mongol Rally.' The guy replied, taken a back as if it was a shock we were there 'Come and sit down and we will get you booked in, Congratulations.' That was it. We filled in the paperwork and we were handed our veteran's card and some beer tokens. We were the 68th and 69th (Mikey enjoyed this) people to finish.

We had our free beer and then took Dominique out to the finishing podium. Mikey drove her on, I didn't think she was going to make it, but there was still fight in the old girl. We asked someone from another team to take some photos of us. I got Mikey and Dominique soaked with champagne. I think this is what I was looking for at the finish line. It felt right.

Next came the unpacking of the car. We found so much stuff that we had lost under all the shit that had accumulated during the trip. We hadn't repacked the car for a good week as it had either been broken or we had just been driving to make up the time. Everything we didn't want went in a pile for charity. So much went, Mikey was brutal but it had to be done as I am a bit of a hoarder, until we were only left with one big bag and one hand luggage sized bag each. Plus a communal bag of items we couldn't leave, which will go back to the UK with Mikey.

With everything gone it was time to head back to the hotel, before some food. We got about a kilometre from the finish hostel towards our hotel when we heard a pop. It was my second flat tyre of the trip. Typically, we had just chucked the spares and the socket set, so I swung her around and back to the finish we went, pretty much on the rim of the front left. That bloody front left. We couldn't have a day without an issue remember.

Eventually, after changing the wheel, we arrived back at the hotel. We have the olympics on again, still the same three sports they keep repeating (handball, volleyball, and basketball) and we are just about to head out for some food and then to our local. The revolving bar. Mikey has his flight in the morning and it is my job to take Dominique to the car equivalent of the electric chair.

The Final Curtain

We have just been driving. Nothing too exciting has happened in the last extended day. We set off from the Burger King at around 2200, as I may have mentioned in the last blog. This was the long slog. We just wanted to get to the finish. Maps.me said it would be 19 hours of driving. We were up for the challenge.

Mikey took the first stint, whilst I slept. We swapped at around 0530 and I carried on until around 1330. We were being gentle with Dominique, she had had a long innings and we just want her to take us to the finish with no more issues. She has been an absolute trooper.

The afternoon saw us reach Lake Baikal. We thought it would be rude not to stop and have a swim. Our last nature wash. We took it very easy over the bumps which lead to the beach, we weren't breaking down again with just 300km to go. The lake was predictably freezing, but we were able to stay in long enough to wash our pits and bits. This was greeted with bemused looks from the locals.

We sat in the sun and cooked our remaining boil in the bags. We needed the energy for the final three hour push to the finishing city of Ulan Ude. The beach entrance was negotiated with great care on our exit, we were looking for our final ever petrol station. It felt odd and kind of sad that we would never put fuel in Dominique again, something that was a regular occurrence and had become second nature to us. It was the sign that the trip really was drawing to a close.

Mikey swapped into the drivers seat with around 200 km to go. Our original plan was to head to the official finishing line tonight, we made the decision to head straight to the hotel and complete the ceremonials in the morning. (Obviously for the better photo opportunities). Just outside the city the roads became extremely potholed again, we weren't going to get off that easily. It was dark and much harder to pick a route when you have the persistent full beams of the stubborn oncoming traffic.

Mikey was doing his best but each one we hit felt as if it was going to snap the chassis in half and that would be the end. However, our thinking was, with each kilometre we gained the less distance we would have to be towed. Therefore the more likely we were to actually finishing. We didn't get off with nothing. When I say we, I mean Mikey, got another flat tyre. This brought his total on the trip to seven, with mine being one. (We won't mention the other charts we had running). It wouldn't have been right if everything had gone smoothly. We changed the tyre with what we hoped would be the very last time.

The big city lights loomed. We were willing Dominique to take us in. She obliged. We passed the sign saying we were in Ulan Ude. We had finally made it. We have driven for 24 hours straight through. It was such a weird feeling. We had completed what we had set out to do.

We are just in the hotel now, ready to go to a nearby revolving restaurant/bar for some food, beers and shisha. (It only seems right). We will then retire to bed for what I imagine will be a long sleep. I will let you know how the finish goes and give you some stats tomorrow.

She Lives !! (Not for very long)

The guy, who went to get the part, finally returned after we had been sitting/sleeping in the sun, waiting. It turned out he had driven around 100km to get the CV joint. It was fitted and then came the issue of the bill. He said the part was an 'original' and he wanted us to pay for the fuel to get the part as well. That day ended up costing two thirds of the cost of Dominique when we bought her. We had got to the garage at around 1130 and we eventually drove onwards at 1800, after the garage guys had taken pictures with us. It will probably go on his wall as those 'English idiots who we ripped off'. We didn't have any choice.

We pushed on until around 0030, again, to try and claw back the many hours we had lost that day. Eventually, enough was enough and we thought it would be better to get some sleep. The scene of turning off the motorway to find somewhere to camp was a very common one now. We found an inlet into a field of corn which was just big enough for the tent (no trees for hammocks, we only had one more night to use them) and for Dominique, who was facing outwards just in case we had to make a quick escape from an angry Russian farmer.

No such farmer disturbed us and we were woken by our alarm at 0700. A big day off driving needed to happen in light of yesterday's events. Everything was going swimmingly for the first four hours of the day, this was until the now fateful time of approximately 1130. We were in the city Krasnoyarsk, just coming off a dual carriageway, to join another, to bypass the city. A left handed u-turn was needed. As we rounded the turn we heard the dreaded 'clunk clunk clunk' and we knew CV joint had gone again. We pushed her to a nearby car park to see if it was definitely the same problem. It seemed to be working in a straight line when we tested it in the car park. There was a garage just 200 metres from our location, according to maps.me (it didn't actually turn out to be a police station as we were expecting). We tentatively drove Dominique round to get her looked at once again. The sound was still there, but not constant on the short journey.

Sure enough, once the mechanics had taken the drive shaft out, they showed us exactly the same problem we had seen three too many times now. The parts guy of the garage, and boss, was ringing around to see if there were any drive shafts in the city. It was almost as if we were in Mongol Rally Groundhog Day. There was a part available but according to the dodgy Google translate it might be 'risk'. We had a huge decision to make. How much more money could we throw at this? How much would it be if we decided to dispose of the car and end the rally? What were the other transport options available to us? Bearing all of the above in mind and the fact we had just forked out an extortionate amount of money for a part that had only lasted a day.

We weighed up our options. A flight to Ulan Ude was too expensive. The train was the cheapest option, but we would have to try explain, and then pay for, the car to be scrapped. The only real choice was to get the part and carry on.

We were driven by the boss and his mechanic (who looked like Barrack Obama, if you squinted, according to one of the locals who was also getting his car fixed), to the parts shop. Barrack made sure it was the right fit, we paid the parts guy (which is why we were made to come along, to make sure we knew the boss wasn't ripping us off) and then we headed back to the garage. Barrack and another mechanic, who had a constantly pained look on his face, fitted the part whilst Mikey and I paced in the waiting room with the Olympic walking race on in the background. (Ironic I know).

The car was back together by 1500, we hadn't actually lost that much time. We paid for the labour and bid farewell. As we were turning left out of the garage, Mikey jokingly said 'clunk clunk clunk', no sooner had he said it, the noise returned. Dominique was back on the ramp and we thought the problem had finally been solved. It wasn't the CV joint that was the issue, it was the gearbox mount that was bodged by MISHA's mechanic all that time ago in Kyrgyzstan. It wasn't tight enough, so every time we turned left it would pull the drive shaft from the gearbox. The cheapest option would be to carry on to Ulan Ude and avoid turning left. Somehow I don't think that one would have worked.

The boss was back on the phone now looking for this part. Luckily this one was around as well. However it was on the our side of town. Mikey and I were once again driven, but this time in the Boss's swish Infiniti SUV, his girlfriend was also along for the ride. Mikey and I felt like their children sat in the back, we were shattered from the constant driving, and both of us fell asleep on the 40 minute drive. We were awoken by our new Russian parents when we arrived. The part was once again bought, and we headed back to the ranch. There was a lot of traffic on the way back, we were getting restless so 'Mum' had to give us a juicebox to calm us down. (I wish, there was no interaction with our Russian mother due to the language barrier)

Anyway, we eventually got back to the garage for the third time (if turning left counts as the second), the part was fitted, we paid for the labour and we were bidding farewell to everyone again. We noticed they collected coins, so we gave them the currency from most of the places we had been in Europe as a thank you, it also cleared out the door handles where they have been collecting for nearly five weeks.

We thought that was it, Burger King was beckoning as we hadn't eaten all day. Fate had other ideas, on the way there was another wobbling (which is very difficult to translate into Russian) coming from the infamous left wheel. We swung her around and pulled back into the garage, for what was the fourth time today, with a sheepish look on our faces that didn't need translating.

Barrack had Dominique up on the ramp again. It seems as if the replacement CV joint (the only one for miles remember) had been broken in the short period of time between driving with the old gearbox mount and the new mount. It really was squeaky bum time now, they kept the garage open just for us. Introduce 'The Doctor' (dubbed by Barrack), he didn't have a sonic screwdriver, we had however seen him around during the day as he was smashing bits of metal (the beauty of the craftsman). His heavy hands from early were now in delicate mode, he was only bloody rebuilding the CV joint using the parts from the old one.

Mikey and I were back to the Olympics, popping our heads into the workshop to see how our patient was doing. We were given a shake of the hand, by Barrack, as if any distraction could lead to the drive shaft bleeding out on the operating table, along with our hopes of finishing with Dominique.

Half a volleyball match later and a walk to the recently discovered 24 hour supermarket, the Frankenstein drive shaft was complete. We returned from the shop stuffing pizza in our faces to see Dominique back in one piece. She was given a quick test run, the vibrations had been ironed out. We were back in the game. Again.

It was 2130 by the time we left. The guys were glad to finally see the back off us. Dominique is running as smooth as ever. Let's she how long she lasts this time. We have just stopped off at Burger King. We are refuelling for the long night ahead. We are planning to drive the 19 hours straight through. Meaning we should have finished the Mongol Rally by 1830, tomorrow. That to me is both exciting and sad.

Back in the Shit

We made good time to Barnaul where stopped for something to eat at Burger Club (I have broken the first rule already). Refuelled, we headed out of the city towards our planned campsite. We were making good time, although maps.me was still saying it would take another hour and a half with 50km to go. This seemed ridiculous, we were going way quicker than that. (We need to stop making these wild statements, the opposite happens everytime). There was a funny noise coming from the same left front wheel with the previous issues. There was nothing obviously wrong when we stopped, the wheel was changed just in case, but there was still something wrong with the tracking. If you let go of the steering wheel for a second the car violently and dangerously veers off to the left and into potential oncoming traffic. It was far from ideal. It had been doing this slightly before, but it was much more prominent now. We carried on in spite of this, we couldn't turn back or take it to someone as it was 0030.

We took the turning off the main road that maps.me was suggesting. It took us onto the, all too familiar, potholed roads through a small village. This then became a farm track which cut its way through high grassed fields. I expressed to Mikey that this definitely couldn't be the main route that everyone takes between these fairly large cities. The first part of the track was solid and easily navigated. We then reached a particularly muddy part that had been chewed up by a tractor. The track was full of murky water. We decided to go for it. I floored it and predictable came to a halt in the middle of the quagmire, wheels spinning, beached. I blamed Mikey and the maps, but admittedly I could have chosen a better route.

I was driving so it was Mikey's job to get out and push. Still nothing. We tried putting anything we could under the wheels to get some traction. No movement. We tried digging out the mud from underneath the car. This was useless as well, as it was that sort of mud that sticks to everything. We were both wadding around in mud halfway up ours legs by this point. She wasn't going anywhere. It was now 0130 and there was no chance there would be anybody coming along this road. (Maybe ever!) We had inadvertently found our campsite for the night. The tent was set up, on a suspiciously looking hard path that is probably used to avoid said mud pit, the light would have surely revealed this to us. We positioned the tent on the makeshift road to make sure any passerby would have to wake us up to get through and consequently tow us free. This was not how either of us had imagined our night would end. Sleeping the middle of a field, covered in mud.

No such luck with our theory that people would be queueing to get passed us, knocking on the tent to move our car. We were also right next to a train track, which had given us many false hopes of freedom last night. The was a track that ran beside it. Mikey went in search of someone who could tug us off the mud bank. My job was to disassemble the tent, pack everything up, and wait for the very slim chance that someone may come along. It was distracted by the many mosquito bites that had appeared from last nights antics, they were most likely attracted by the mud.

Mikey returned, surprisingly quickly, in the passenger seat of a massive truck. The kind we usually get stuck behind on the main roads. This time it was our friend. A tow rope was attached and within seconds we were free. We thanked our lorry friend and packed up the car. I removed the sump guard, as it was caked in mud and had been making a noise when we change gear since the Pamir's. We would hopefully no longer need it. (Famous last words). This venture subsequently covered me in mud, more bait for the mosquitos.

We carried on down the track we had attempted last night, the daylight did indeed revealed paths around the huge mud puddles. We had made it onto a semi acceptable road, just beside a train track when we heard the familiar noise of the CV joint on the drive shaft not doing what it should. There was no drive again. This was starting to become fucking annoying. We had managed to break down on a well frequented truck route, one was flagged down and we explained that we would appreciate it if he could tow us to a garage. He obliged, but only as far as the main road. I think he must not have been going in the same direction as us. Another car, full of a family, was hailed and they agreed to tow us the rest of the way to the nearest garage.

This is where we are now, and have been for about two hours already. They have taken the drive shaft off, and Dominique has just had a power wash is covered in mud which we also used on ourselves. We have the same problem as when we were in Kyrgyzstan. However, after many hilarious translations using our Google translator app (one being 'use your mother instead'), they can't seem to find the replacement part. We told them that the part had already been replaced about four days ago. They said 'how much did you pay for it?' We replied 50 dollars. They all burst out laughing. However, when we asked them how much this part would be now they started talking amongst themselves 'something in Russian, Russian, FIFTY BUCKS, Russian....'. So it looks like it's going to be the same amount.

With our money in their pockets the guy has been to the next city over and has been ringing around everyone. This could be our rally ender if they can't get the part today. We have been looking at options of transporting the car to Ulan Ude and scrapping her entirely, both are going to be very expensive. We are currently waiting to see how it plays out, we could be joining our friends, the pug crawlers, when we are so close to the end. It is a real shame and a decision we won't take lightly.

Mother Russia

We didn't cross the Russian border last night. The decision was made to get a hotel in Semipalatinsk, we had been driving for around 11 hours and had made good time. We'd treated ourselves before the long, 3000km, slog to the finish. There had been some word from the Adventurists about Mongolia potentially being back open. However, we have made the decision to carry on through Russia to make sure we are there well in time to experience Ulan Ude before sending Dominique to the big race track in the sky (shhhhh!) and catching our flights.

We had some food and retired to bed at around midnight. The pre ordered breakfast meant we were awake for 0900. After a surprisingly good breakfast, the road was awaiting us. It was about 100km to the Russian border, according to maps.me (the offline maps we have been using which are properly shit). It tried to take us on an 80km detour, which was obviously ignored, meaning we were there in no time.

We expected this border to be the hardest to overcome, as we had such difficulty obtaining the visas. We were out of Kazakhstan with no issue at all and we were soon onto the Russian side. I thought 'Here we go, this is where the 8 hour wait occurs'. Wrong again. A check of the three passports (Dominique's included) and a quick rifle through our belongs, (When I say rifle, I mean a glance into the car, nothing as obscene as what occurred in Turkmenistan) and we were taking pictures under the Russian sign before we knew it.

We are very grateful of the long, straight and more importantly smooth roads that Russia has to offer. It means some serious mileage can be put down in the next few days. With the straight long roads comes the monotony of the same scenery, but I will take it over the littered potholes any day. However one part of woodland provided a huge amount of amusement for me, not so much for Mikey.

I was told that I had to pulled over at the next set of discrete looking trees, by Mikey. He needed a sit down toilet, rather than the more convenient stand up toilet, urgently. The service station was too far away. I left him to take our collapsible loo seat and some toilet paper into the woods. What returned was a very unhappy looking Mikey, demanding wet wipes immediately. I had predicted what had happened as a similar fate had occurred to myself, during a dry run, in the Pamir's. The loo seat had collapsed leaving the occupant (Mikey) to fall into, and hence be covered in, the very object he had just deposited. A good five to ten minutes later, Mikey returned, I think most of the damage was now under control. I couldn't stop laughing. He said that 'Anyone who has just fallen into their own shit, should be treated like a king for the rest of the day'.

We carried onto another fuel station, as the fuel gauge was telling us we were nearly empty, even though we had just filled up. We thought there was a leak, in reality the fuel gauge is broken which is a bonus. I bought Mikey a huge Russian flick knife, partly because he had lost his somewhere in Turkey, mainly because he had just fallen in his own excrement. I was treating him like the pooey king he was.

We are back on the beautifully flat roads and we are looking for somewhere to camp, just north of Barnaul. This will leave us with about 2250km to do in the next three days. We are still on track for Saturday and we are praying nothing goes wrong on the way. I will be avoiding the folding loo seat in the meantime. The mood is a long way from what is was a week ago, we are excited to have nearly completed this epic adventure. (Something is definitively going to go wrong now).

Road to Russia

Driving as far as we could, north in Kazakhstan, was more difficult than we first thought. The road surface was absolutely atrocious and it was made even more difficult in the dark. We were both shattered from the night before and took it in turns to try and sleep in the car, but this was almost impossible. It was like trying to fall asleep on those machines they should have been using to flatten the road. I was alright once you got into the rhythm of having you head smashed agains the ceiling, window, headrest, or all three at once.

We got to a point where we both thought it was ridiculous to try and carry on. The road was going to break us or the car. The next turning off the road was taken and the tent, yes the tent, was erected in a field. We were too tired to search for a place for hammocks, so we settled for the tent for only the second time on this trip.

I now know why we use hammocks. The sleep in the tent was largely uncomfortable from the hard, spikey floor, but we were so tired we managed to sleep until 0800. We got back on the road shortly after. It was much easier to pick a path through the potholes and mounds of tarmac that seems to be acceptable here. It was so easy in fact that I was pulled over for speeding quite early on in the day. They had a video and everything, with the speed in the bottom right. I thought we were going to have to pay this time. However, the magic notebook was produced, which said we didn't have any money, in Russian. The policeman motioned as if to say 'how are you filling up you car with petrol then?' Fair one. That had me stumped. But eventually they got bored again and let us on our way.

The roads did not improve on the way to a nearby town. We were stopping here to get new tyres, some money, food and fuel. The things we need to keep us and Dominique moving. The tyre man was very nice to us, his shop only fitted the tyres but he droves us to a place that sold new ones. We bought three, the lady in the shop (who seemed to laugh at anything) only had the 13" tyres that were bigger than the ones we already have. (If that makes any sense at all?). We fitted two on the back wheels and kept the previous ones to replace the tyres at the front that are rubbing, at an alarming rate on the inside. We think the tracking and the general suspension is fucked from all the hits that are taken on a daily basis. The larger rear wheels were interfering with the wheel arches, so they were bent out of the way to stop this. It's great driving a car that is being scrapped. (I won't say it too loud otherwise Dominique might hear and not take us the rest of the way).

The tyre man bought us lunch and let us know that the roads did not improve until Semipalatinsk, a mere 600km away to the north. We didn't need the third tyre we had bought, so we took it back to the laughing lady. She let us swap it for two spare suspension springs, which was very kind of her.

Tyre man was right. We are about 250km away from our destination and we have just passed the 8,000 mile mark, which is exciting. Trying to sleep is even more difficult than last night, there are less potholes but the roads have many hidden dips that would test the suspension of any 4x4. The constant up and down motion is becoming tiresome, reminding me of indulgent food and beer we have had on this trip, as the seatbelt catches my gut. Mikey has now notched up 6 out of the 8 flat tyres we have had and one of the night sun's has been dislodged, so has been removed. It seems ludicrous that the main road connecting the south and north of a country is so shit. They must at least have some money left over from the Borat film (there it is, the first reference) to spend on it. The scenery is much like Dartmoor, but less exciting. We have seen green hills for the last 6 hours. We just stopped for fuel near a rocky outcrop and that was the most interesting thing we've seen all day. Maybe we have got too used to the stunning scenery of old.

I think the plan is to try and cross the Russian border tonight. We are going to try and get wifi in Semipalatinsk to see if Mongolia is completely off the cards. If everything goes smoothly tonight, we should be on track for Ulan Ude by Saturday. Fingers crossed. We probably won't make it now I've said that.

All Nighter

It was a late one indeed. So late it became early. The road weaved its way up the mountains, criss-crossing over an aqua coloured river towards Bishkek, it might seem like I describe the same drive through mountains, throughout this trip, but each one has been different and captivating in their own way, whether you were driving it or taking it all in from the passenger seat.

We followed the river upstream which gave way to a stunning lake. We caught the perfect scene, something the camera could not do justice. The sun was setting over the mountains, in the background, the remaining rays of sunlight were shimmering off the lake, in the mid-ground, and the road dropped away into a series of hairpin turns, in the foreground.

Beyond the lake, this very road took us up high again into the mountains. It was so high there was snow on the peaks of the mountains. Mikey and I were in shorts and t-shirts from the hot day of driving. We were severely underdressed when it came to filling up the car with a Jerry can. It was absolutely freezing out. My hands were shaking holding the funnel, which meant a fair amount was spilt. With the heating on full blast, we headed down from the mountain range. The worst bit was getting your ears readjusted. We were shouting at each, in a similar fashion to how MISHA communicates, until our ears unblocked.

We rolled into Bishkek at around 0230. We were hunting for a hostel in the centre of town, but we couldn't find it for the life of us. Instead we went in search of wifi which would give us a definitive route. The all night fast food establishments provided us with this service, as well as some well needed street meat. (I think I really need to stop eating this as it really doesn't agree with my bowels. Brussels, is all I will say).

It was now getting on for 0300, we had lost an hour to the clocks again. Mikey floated an idea that he thought wouldn't go down well with me. He said of paying for a hostel for about 5 hours usage, why don't we drive to Almaty. He said he felt like a new man after the nap on the way to Bishkek and was on his second coffee. It wasn't the worst idea I had heard. A 24 hour coffee shop allowed Mikey to get his third fix of coffee and for us to catch up on wifi.

Refuelled and ready to go, well one us, we set off for Kazakhstan. The border was only around 30km from Bishkek, so I caught a few Z's on the way. This border crossing was by far the easiest we have had since Europe. A mere glance at the passports from the Kyrgyz side, lead us to the Kazakhstan border. There were no hidden charges to pay (I sound like one of those insurance adverts from the telly - 'No Win, No fee'), and we were onto the customs check within minutes. I couldn't believe what was going. A quick check by the drugs dog and a bit of banter from the customs guy led us to driving into Kazakhstan.

Mikey resumed the driving to Almaty, as I slept in the increasing uncomfortable passenger seat. He was pulled over for speeding, which was ridiculous as the policeman reckoned it was 30kph on a dual carriageway, the trusty notebook with Alex's (not the drug dealer) note came out and we were on our way again. When Mikey gets pulled over for speeding, it is usually followed by me breaking the car in the same day. (Let's hope not). We arrived into the city for around 0900 and went to another coffee shop for breakfast and some wifi. I was able to update the blog and so we could both generally catch up on life back home. Not at 3 in the morning. (Aren't Team GB doing well in the olympics, after Russia had half their team disqualified).

After a quick look at the monument for Kazakhstan's independence we went to find a police station to allow Mikey to get a police report to claim back the money that was stolen. The maps we were using were useless, saying that a hotel and a coffee shop were police stations. We were pointed in the right direction and eventually found one next to the bank. I went to try and get some money out whilst Mikey went to the police station.

Three hours later Mikey returned. I don't know what went on in there but he was clutching the all important letter in Russian, with an official looking stamp on it. We finally set off out of Almaty at around 1500 and stopped at one of the lakes, on the outskirts, for a wash. Imagine a normal Kazakh beach scene with two English men, passing a bottle of Shower Gel between themselves in the shallows. That was us. It was a well needed wash so we didn't care.

On the way from the lake, it was my turn to be pulled over by one of the policeman and their adorable batons. They wanted me to pay a fine of 1000 tenga for not having my lights on, even though it was bright sunlight. The time for acting dumb fell on my shoulders (I wasn't as good at it as Mikey) and the magic notebook came out. They eventually got bored and let me on my way. We are now back on the road again, filled up with fuel and water (Mikey's favourite feeling, apparently). We have about 8 hours of driving ahead of us. At home (Cornwall), that's like saying 'Do you fancy going to the beach?' 'Yeah, which one?' 'Scarborough' The drive will make sure we give ourselves enough time to reach the Russian border tomorrow.

MISHA

We carried on until we reached the Tajik/Kyrgyz border. Getting out of Tajikistan was one of the easiest processes we have had for a while, the customs documents were handed in, the passports were checked and we were into no mans land. We reached the Kyrgyz border and again everything was going fairly swiftly, the passports were checked quickly, but then it came to paying the customs fee for the car. They guy said it would be 1000 Kyrgyz som, I had no idea what the exchange rate was so I wasn't ready to hand this over straight away. It turned out it was $15, but we only had 100 dollar bills (weekend millionaires). Trying to get he change back was a nightmare. It took an hour of bashing on a calculator, the guy disappearing for a while and exchanges of hand gestures, for me to finally pay the charge and get my change back in Kyrgyz som.

Finally we got back on the road and we're going at a fair pace, when we saw a sign that said 40kph. I said 'Why would they possibly have a ridiculously low speed on such a good road'., Mikey agreed. We found out, as we hit a massive dip and the whole car dropped. We both looked at each other, laughing. Now we knew.

We pulled off the main road about 20 miles outside of Osh, looking for somewhere to camp, heading up a track past some farm buildings to the top of the hill. With the pug crawlers no longer with us, the hammocks became more difficult to erect. (Some say that's the only reason we were with them). A telegraph pole that had two struts was ideal, and had greater load bearing ability than the Peugeot. (Too soon?) We were both in the hammocks in record time, it was now 0030 and we were shattered.

The sun woke us up and revealed yet another beautiful vista, that was under darkness when we arrived. Our plan was to get to Bishkek today and find a hostel to stay in this evening. It was a bout 600km away and we set off around 0830. We made good progress, asking the locals the way as we had lost our main Nav man, Frosty. We noticed that all the local men were wearing these bell/lampshade type hats and we both decided we needed one before we left Kyrgyzstan. Driving through Jalal-Abad led us to a huge street market. We were bound to find one of these hats in there, we pulled over and went to explore.

Sure enough we found the hats we were after. A Kyrgyz guy, who had studied in Germany, told us that the people in the White mountains wore them to keep the snow off. Pleased with our purchases, we bought some street meat for lunch and headed on our way to Bishkek.

It wouldn't be our Mongol Rally if something didn't go wrong everyday. About 20km out of Jalal-Abad, just after we had filled up with fuel, we hit a series of big dips. We came out of the last dip and something didn't sound right. It wasn't the sump guard knocking and we had no drive again. We got out to inspect the damage. The same drive shaft as the one that was ripped out, in the Pamirs, had its CV joint in half. Basically, it was not attached to the gearbox, again.

As we were pushing the car across the road into a shady, safe, area a local guy had spotted us and turned around to see if we were alright. We motioned if he could tow us to a garage. He agreed. He pulled us up a dusty track, getting further into the sticks. We eventually pulled up into this guys farm settlement. He offered us chi tea and a trough to wash in. This was all well and good but we just wanted to get the car fixed and back on the road. We motioned to say that we wanted a garage (putting our hands over our heads in the 'Pizza Hut' style). He understood eventually and he said 'This is a garage'. We hoped that we hadn't offended him too much, he didn't seem as though we had. He gestured for us to sit and drink tea, smoke cigarettes, and to wash while he went and got his mechanic friend.

Mikey washed his pits in the trough. I washed my, constantly sweaty, feet in what I think was a hand wash bowl only. The mechanic, who was the doppelgänger of Woody Harrelson, struggled to get the wheel nut off to no avail. Our farmer friend went to get us a new drive shaft, he said it was $50 (we didn't see change from our $100 bill). So we were playing the waiting game until he returned.

On the Road to Osh

Just outside Dushanbe, on the way back from the Pamir Highway yesterday, Mikey and I found a garage that looked like they could help us with the long list of problems that seemed to be growing with Dominique. We had tried two garages before this, both had no electricity to help us weld the suspension back together, however this one had other solutions.

They did not have the Daewoo rear springs, but they were able to provide some rubber spacers that are more professional than the tennis balls. The night sun headlight was fixed using a larger washer. The power steering belt was fitted and the alternator belt was tightened. The only thing left was the gearbox fluid. They couldn't seem to find a way to fill it, so the noise remained. Other than that, and the bumper, Dominique sounded and ran like a new woman. Her tracking was slightly off, as she pulls more to the left than Jeremy Corbyn, but it is something we can live with as long as the tyres hold out.

Near the Yeti Hostel, Dushanbe, after having the worlds worst meal at a steak restaurant that had run out of steak, Mikey and I decided to have one last go at filling the gearbox with oil. We were working away, when a guy who spoke quite good English came over and asked us if everything was alright. Mikey got chatting to him, his name was Alex, and he offered to get us some beers and chat while his kids were playing. While Mikey and Alex went to get some beers I had figured out that it wasn't the internals of the gearbox that was the issue, it was the sump guard that was knocking on the outer case of the gearbox. It had obviously been moved when we replaced the front suspension unit.

Mikey and Alex (who definitely wasn't a drug dealer, wink wink) returned with some well needed cold beers. Mikey had asked Alex to write a note in Russian explaining how his money had been stolen, so he could claim it back on the insurance. His kids were still playing around the car and one of them pressed the horn whilst I was under the car, it scared the shit out of me, everyone else found it hilarious. With the issue not as serious as we had first thought, Dominique was ready to carry on. We thanked Alex for the beers and his translating abilities and we headed for the Hostel.

Frosty and Henry were already there. They told us how, just after we left them, the truck that was towing them decided to reverse his agreement when he saw benzene pouring out of the Pug. They were stranded in a local village, with no way of driving the car. The rally was very much over for them. They left with the son of the one of the villagers on the way back to Dushanbe, without the car they arrived in the country with. I will say no more. It was our last night together so we went up to the local watering hole and had many beers as a farewell. It was reminiscent of how, many moons ago on my birthday, we had met.

The morning brought the final farewells as Mikey and I set off towards Osh. It was weird not driving in a convoy and we felt fairly lonely without the other two. The road north was mainly toll roads which meant they were in quite good knick. The going was still slower than we would have liked as the roads went high into the mountain ranges, the altitude decreased Dominique's performance, it was second gear most of the way. The slow pace did allow us to take in the breathtaking views once again. The road also had a number of tunnels. One was marked on the map as 'Dangerous Tunnel' and we now know why. There was little/zero ventilation for this particularly long tunnel. Even with full beams on you couldn't see more than a few metres ahead because of the exhaust fumes. We had the windows up and the vents closed, but we both still felt sleepy and light headed by the end. If you broke down, it was pretty much game over. The tunnel shat us out the other end, we were gulping in the fresh air.

We are now just over half way to Osh. Mikey has just been pulled over for speeding, by what looked like the mate of the police officer who was waving the radar gun willy nilly. They were clearly there to scam money off people. Mikey was playing dumb again (he really has a talent for it) and 'wasn't understanding', until the policeman cupped his hand over Mikey's ear and said 'Dollars', in a almost sexual tone, apparently. Mikey had the ace that was the note Alex had written yesterday. He showed them and gestured that he had no more money left. They either accepted this or got bored of us, as they let us on our way. We have a border crossing and a fair way to go yet so it might be another late one, which might become a regular theme in the next week to make sure we stay on schedule.