Kyrgyzstan to Kazakhstan
Having had a slow morning on tracks and switchbacks, the relatively smooth roads of Kyrgyzstan though littered with potholes for the first 50km were a welcomed break. Having passed a live ammo training session of mortars and artillery guns firing into the hill side, we immediately began climbing back into the mountains though this time on a smoother surface. After multiple switch backs and race down the mountain, with Sheila claiming victory over the Goats Mazda, after a few close calls with the local animals. The drive to Osh was very easy with little drama, as always we arrived and immediately went for food in a restaurant called Last Vegas. It turned out to be a nightclub (sound familiar?), Having decided we would have 1 drink, some food then find a hotel we immediately ordered 3 rounds of 6 pints and 6 large meals, what we thought was chicken but was very debatable. After being told we had to dance we quickly decided to leave and find a comfy bed to regain sleep from our high altitude excursion. What a comfy sleep it was.
Having rested well and eaten a Kyrgyzstan version of an English breakfast we hit the road having failed to hear from Wendy on their whereabouts. It was going to a long day of driving to Bishkek, roughly 12 hours. Whilst paying for our fuel we caught site of a purple Wagon R running a red light. Well that could only be one team! Having caught up, we pulled over to get fuel for them and see the botch job on their axle. The convoy was reunited again!
We headed off on what turned out to be a spectacular drive though mountains and long light blue rivers. As always a long drive wouldn't be complete without us being pulled over by the police for not wearing seat belts. We forced our Russian letter into their faces, and managed to get away with a 3 dollar fine per team. Pushing on we headed away from the rivers and back into the mountains to see hundreds of yurts and even more horses, most of which would choose to cross the road directly in front of us, really testing our struggling breaks and tired eyes! The good roads soon became littered with potholes again and our candlestick lights struggled to show anything. With a mountain climb of over an hour we went through a huge tunnel only just big enough for 2 cars to pass let alone a lorry and a car. It did have traffic lights, but apparently red means go in this country. With a dangerous decent littered with lorries and another police stop, this time for not getting back in lane fast enough. The Russian letter came in handy again, saving us from paying anything. Bishkek was a welcomed sight and even more so our beds in the non acconditioned 30 degree room!
The next morning we ran for the Kazakhstan border having picked up Kit from team Wendy who had got his Mongolian visa in Bishkek. It was an eventful border crossing to say the least. Before we even got in the queue of cars we had been pulled over by the police for missing a stop sign, losing us 3 places in the queue. The Russian letter worked a treat. Having made it to the line of cars, a Kazakhstan women cut us up and stole our spot having got distracted by our game of hang man on the roof. The local behind didn't take kindly to this and told her to move, to which she refused. As a result the man stole the keys from the ignition of her car and walked off. Then parked his car in front and let us past. Whilst this was going on, Lav from team Wendy was making a mad dash for a toilet only to not make it and have to wash his soiled shorts in the stagnant lake next to the queue, much to our amusement. With another hour of queuing and a quick stamp in our passport, we were in.
We apologise for the slight back log of blogs, hopefully the wait was worth it!
Sandy and the team
We have now finished the Mongol rally but this entry will take you through one of the highlights of the trip; The Pamir Highway
We crossed into Tajikistan at around 9pm in a two car convoy with the Goats as Wendy's visa did not permit them entry until the following day. We made it to Deshuambe that evening but struggled to find anywhere to stay. Eventually we found ourselves renting the floor in a locals back room in the depths of a Tajik housing estate. I migrated to the car In a matter of hours. Wendy crossed at midnight and we reconvened in the morning to tackle the M41, the Pamir highway.
With the knowledge of what was to come, we utilised the remaining smooth roads to the full. Inevitably this immediately lead to us explaining how much money we had raised for charity and that we weren't actually going that fast to a local police officer in a feeble attempt to avoid the $30 fine he was imposing. By some miracle we escaped unscathed so set of again with considerably more caution.
It wasn't long before the M41 turned from a road that wouldn't look out of place in the UK to a road that you would avoid in a defender, let alone a 2002 Vauxhall Agila with a new engine and 118 000 miles under the belt. Never the less, on we cracked. The further we went the more remote it got and shortly we found ourselves in the depths of a fierce valley, speeding along the narrow dirt track that ran across shear cliff faces so as to avoid the rocks falling from above, whilst trying desperately not to think about the vertical drop to our right and what lay below.
Shaken but not stirred we decided to pitch camp when the road finally levelled out. Our first afternoon on the Pamir Highway was complete and we now fully understood the origins of its reputation. The road quality the following day matched that of the previous day but fortunately the cliff faces were not nearly as severe. The winding path took us up and up and up until we reached 12 000ft where we crested the peak only to descend all the way back down through 'caution mines' signs, towards the Afghanistan boarder. After afew hairy moments passing lorries far to big for those winding cliff face roads and a couple of new springs for Wendy, we set up camp in what we concluded, must actually have been a camp site.
Day 3 was more of the same but at around lunchtime we rounded a corner to a couple of children playing on a perfectly flat football pitch with the most stunning backdrop. Naturally we pulled over and joined in, next thing we knew we were playing a full blown 9 aside match against the locals. It was roasting hot and we were extremely unfit but somehow managed to go 1-0 up. The low standard quickly deteriorated further and the game began to see little play outside our own half. We concluded that the altitude was to blame for the following two goals that we conceded. A hasty congratulations to our opponents on their victory and a quick team photo then we quickly got back on the road before the whole town swarmed our cars.
Later that day we arrived at a town called Khorugh. It was here that we had been told the roads really deteriorated so we had a night in a hostel before getting up at 6 to tackle what was to come. The roads were surprisingly ok for the first couple of hours, they tended to be made from warped tarmac rather than the bouldery gravel tracks we had grown used to. As expected the tarmac got worse until we found ourselves avoiding large pot holes in the road that now resembled a rough sea. And sure enough, around mid day we suddenly developed a gushing leak from below the car. Upon closer inspection, a radiator coolant hose had burst which was reliving in the grand scheme of things. It took us an hour and a half to take the car apart and fix the hose before we were back on the road. Wendy had more difficulty with the road and managed to shear a trailing arm forcing them to limp the remaining 80km to the nearest town, car held together with a single ratchet strap.
A small lack of judgment left us pitching a tent at the highest altitude we had been all trip, in the dark and the freezing cold - exactly what we had been told not to do. At over 14000ft we hurried to apply every possible layer of clothing we owned before pilling into the goats tent for the worst night sleep any of us had had yet. I say sleep, I think we managed about three hours between the six of us. Changing position left you breathless and the five layers of clothing were not nearly sufficient. Finally the sun rose and we were allowed to set off on our final day of Tajikistan and the Pamir Highway. We completed the final stretch of stunning views and dreadful roads by late lunchtime and joined the queue for the boarder into Krygstan.
After a mad 5 days in Turkmenistan it was time for Uzbekistan. At this stage we were in convoy with just 3 Men and a Goat.
After another 5+ hour border crossing we headed to the town of Nukus. Failing to find am ATM we headed for a restaurant. The noodles we cooked in nomans land seemed liked a long time ago! However, it became pretty apparent very quickly that eating in this restaurant wasn't the best idea. So we packed up and headed for Kivah, an old traditional town.
A few dodgy passport checks and questionable roads we made it at around 10.30pm. To find the hotel was practically run by an 11 year old boy! The next day we felt we should do the touristy things around town, which included ruining ourselves going up a 200 plus stairs to a view point. Very evident that 6 weeks in a car does nothing good for your fitness!
Bukhara was the next stop, after a shortish drive, we made it and caught up with team Wendy. We took the decision to go out for a relatively smart meal with some fellow ralliers. Paying in cash was an experience, needing a wad cash worthy of its own suitcase!
The next morning we drove to Sumerkand, where we would stay before crossing the border the next day. On arrival and in need of food we fell to the classic trap of being dragged into the first restaurant we came across. Safe to say none of us understood the menu and ended up with some interesting plates of food! However numerous games of hearts at our hostel's rooftop bar made up for the disastrous meal!
The next day we headed to Tajikistan where we would start the Pamir highway!!
Considering our recent engine change we were nervous to enter Iran, the country where your car needs a passport and you MUST 'drive' it out no later than the exit date. This strict rule, punishable with a jail sentence, left no margin for error. Slightly reassured by the amount of mechanics in our 30 car convoy we joined the 10 hour border queue and eventually set off into the country.
The Iranians demand that brits are accompanied by a guide through their country which unfortunately meant that our experience was more expensive and limited than it otherwise could have been. Our days were spent in transit between major cities which was disappointing but the locals were a source of much entertainment and more than made up for our strict itinerary by taking selfies with us and handing us phone numbers and ice creams at any given opportunity. We eventually realised that this was because we had been on the Iranian news entering the country so they were all completely baffled by us, our cars and what we were doing and so friendly, welcoming and excited to see us.
Below is a list of conclusions that can be drawn from our bizarre experience.
-Boarder crossings are far from slick
-Really friendly people
-Random speed bumps across five lane motorways
-We are minor celebrity's
-'Give way' does not exist
-Many many blue trucks
-Every other car pulls up for a 60mph conversation
-Really flat and really not flat
-40 degrees, no shorts
-Undertaking is a thing
-We are millionaires
-They only eat kebabs
-Roads are good
-All their cars are white
-30 car convoys don't work
-Bank cards are useless
-We were on Iran news
-11 year olds ride motorbikes
-Facebook is illegal :(
-Dancing is illegal :)
-Alcohol is illegal :(
-Death is imminent on a motorbike
-Terran is mental
On the road again
What an interesting few days it's been! The relief we all experienced when we heard Sheila start was so reassuring. Now, we just had to make it to the Iranian border in time for our visa, a seemingly impossible task with a monumental 12 hour driving shift to catch up with Wendy in Georgia. Though we had a new engine for the small cost of £700... We were warned not to take it over 3000rpm for 5000km. The 12 hour drive became 18 hours. Having shown the mechanic and his son our best magic tricks over breakfast, we paid up and hit the road. Be it very slow!
We settled down for the long haul with me taking the first shift, followed by George, Webby and me again.
We reached the Georgia border at about 2am hoping that it was a 24 hour crossing like Google had told us. We couldn't see anyone. After a few minutes of shouting a man appeared and told us to open the gate and let ourselves in. This was probably our fastest border crossing yet with guards taking particular interest in our airhorns and light bar which we have now used extensively during the night drives. From here we headed to the hostel in the capital. Im not sure if I was delirious but the road from the border to the capital was down hill the entire way for over 3 hours. Having narrowly avoided 1 cat and 3 puppies we arrived into the capital at 5am barely able to hold our eyes open. We parked up next to Wendy and went to find our room, which might aswell have been a sauna as the humidity made the air ridiculously sticky.
With 3 hours sleep, we hit the road in convoy with Wendy. We had to be careful not to get carried away and do 90mph down the roads like had before, maybe that's why our engine went?!
After a very sweaty border crossing into Armenia, with George losing our green card and v5 in the space of 20 meters (dick of the day). We headed south towards the Iranian border. We found an incredible camping spot near the lake half way down the country, completing what felt like a rally stage to find it. With a large camp fire and cold beers, spirits were high. Having carried copious amounts of alcohol this far, we had to drink them before the Iranian border so it made sense to drink them rather than pour it out!
The next day brought what was possibly one of the more spectacles drives of the trip so far not because of the amazingly smooth roads, but the shear size of potholes we had to climb through as we traversed up and down the mountain ranges in southern armenia. The going was tough but our motorway sign sump guard was tougher! It took nearly 2 hours to cover 20km. We were aiming for the Iranian border crossing which was only accessible through these roads. With the crossing date the next day we settled on a camp site 10km from the border, balanced on the edge of the mountain. The car must have been thankful to get a break from racing up and down the switch backs!
Sorry we have had a delay in the blogs, we have been rather pressed for time recently with a serious lack of working WiFi!
Our just giving page is doing incredibly, so please continue to donate to such a worthy cause. We are very thankful to everyone who has donated or supported us so far.
Link:
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Scotland2Mongolia
Turkmenistan
I'm afraid this a quite a long blog as Turkmenistan ended up being way more fun than first thought!
Our 5 days in Iran were up. We got up early expecting a slow border crossing and bad roads leading to it. The roads were some of the best in Iran winding through the hills. As always we got carried away and poor Sheila ended racing most of these mountain switchbacks! As for the border crossing...... Having paid 400 dollars for the carnet, the border officials then decided they wanted an extra 20 dollars per team and we weren't allowed to cross into Turkmenistan until all the cars in the convoy had arrived and paid. Queue a 4 hour stand off as we argued against the 20 dollars which then became 10 dollars (proving it was for their pockets!). Having passed the time playing a ball game involving the 2 inspection pits next to the gate, we all started to get bored of waiting. The only answer we could think of was to get in our cars and hold down our horns. With 20 cars now blaring their horns, the number of border guards suddenly doubled and miraculously the paperwork we needed started to be completed.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BXk5OZMDNjz/
After further arguments the bribe was settled at 5 dollars per team. However, the joy of being released from Iran was short lived as we realised the Turkmenistan border closed in an hour's time and they had over 20 cars to fully search. After another 120 dollars each and a 2 hour wait, we had a visa and the car was queued up to be searched. As always the border guards found great amusement in our rugby ball. There was much discussion over our air compressor with the guards thinking it was a drone (strictly banned), however, we were cleared being told not to stop until we cleared the mountains, the last border post in 35km and heavily warned not to take pictures. 10 minutes later the border guards rounded a corner to find us stopped at the side of the road, changing into shorts and taking pictures of the view. Luckily they didn't see the cameras and we were only escorted down mountain, with all 4 cars in our convoy struggling not to get carried away and restart our previous race!
Some forbidden photos!
And then we arrived into Ashgabat.
We concluded very quickly that this was the weirdest city we had ever seen. The whole place was built when the dictator decided he didn't like the previous capital. Ashgabat includes; the world's tallest flag pole, the world's biggest library and a load more ridiculous buildings. For such a large new city you would imagine it to bustling with people and cars, it was the opposite. We could count on 2 hands the number of cars and people we saw in the first hour as we drag raced between lights on the 4 lane roads, attempting to find an atm and fuel.
After concluding that Wendy was the fastest between lights followed by us and then the two other teams, we decided we next needed a drink having not had alcohol for 5 days! A local quickly found us and escorted us in convoy to what we first thought was a restaurant. The plan was to have 1 drink and then find somewhere to stay. 4 hours later having discovering they had 40p pints and that this restaurant was actually a nightclub we stumbled out the door and headed for 5 star hotel, not for a room but because it had a nightclub which was open later.... This was when we discovered Turkmenistan had a ridiculous law which stated you can't be drunk in public, queue a telling off from the police.
We woke in the morning not to a 5 star hotel room or swimming pool, but the inside of our cars, having parked in a children's play park the night before.
After spending hours formulating a plan and waiting till we sobered up, we headed back to the same hotel purely to lie in its pool all day. We actually forgot about booking a hotel room and didn't end up getting a bed until midnight having driven to 3 different hotels and then deciding we liked the original one we had been at all day, and paid 50 dollars each for the 5 star grand Turkmen hotel.
A normal site in Ashgabat!
The gates of hell (burning gas crater)
As our next destination was in the middle of the desert we stocked up on ample amounts of cheap vodka and set off later than planned (it seems to be a common occurrence!). The amazing smooth roads of Ashgabat soon turned into a wide road littered with potholes big enough to remove a wheel from a car. We reached a record breaking temperature of 47 degrees and at this moment Wendy decided to snap both their rear springs. Having finished our water in 4 hours, thinking it would last us 2 days, we made a dash to the nearest shop (surprisingly easy to come across in a desert) and then returned to help. Luckily our expert mechanical knowledge wasn't needed so we cracked out our chairs and drank our ice cold water offering useful comments about how cold our water was. We weren't totally useless though, as we did donate our spare rear springs!
After a further 4 hours in the sweltering heat we reached the start of the sand tracks to the gas crater. We had been warned our car wouldn't make it over the initial huge sand hill and the following 7km of tracks. Obviously this went in one ear and out the other, and we lined up on what was being treated like the start line to a race track as a queue of Mongol rally cars took to the hill. The tactics were pretty obvious having watched a local rescue a stranded fellow Agila. The sand track with foot deep ruts was to be treated like the Goodwood hill climb circuit. Having carefully chosen my starting music (pipes and drums) I dropped the clutch and hurtled towards the 200 meter hill, flying over the sand humps, bottoming out the suspension. The car was clearly designed for this and climbed with the ease of a mountain lion. Spurred on by this 3 Men and a Goat (a team in our convoy) put their foot the floor, only to find out their boot was still open as they lost the entire contents of their car behind them!
Webby being the cameraman was filming all of this from the top of the hill, however we later found out he had actually left the battery charging in the car (dick of the day).
Having retrieved their belongings 3 Men and a Goat joined us at the top of the hill where unfortunately we had got stuck after a local had parked his car on the best route, in a ploy to get the tourists stuck so he could make money pulling us out. Being stubborn we dug our car out of the sand and pushed it a further 10 meters in the next hour! It was now getting dark so we gave in and a local jumped into our car. Within 5 minutes he had us back on solid ground. I'll point out that we'd only covered 1km in this time and still had a further 6km of sand tracks to go, now in the dark. The perfect time to show off our rally light bar. With the thought of getting stuck in the back of mind, my foot stayed planted firmly to the floor and we surfed the car over the sand ruts and what can be described as small jumps. Collins McRae would be proud! Having drifted a few corners and thrown the car around a bit more we arrived at a small hut overlooking a huge 100 meter wide burning gas crater. We were quickly moved off though as we saw that we had parked right next to a table of 50 tourists who had clearly paid a lot of money to be there. Having covered them in dust we rattled along the track to the edge of the crater, parking 5 meters from its edge. Stepping out I immediately regretted parking so close and had to beat a hasty retreat, leaving George in the car!
George unfortunately had come down with a mixture of food poisoning and car sickness (can't think why!), so after a few photos and a cold beer we headed up a small hill to find the rest of the ralliers and set a tent up for George.
We gave up after the first tent as it was far to much effort in the sand, and left George to sleep whilst we saw to our cheap bottles of vodka. Having finished two bottles off and disposed of our rubbish along with two full gas canisters into the crater, we passed out. We were woken by the locals at 8am and threw our belongings into the car and started headed back towards the road. We realised at this point that we hadn't needed to go so fast down the track as it was indeed solid!
Having learnt our lesson the night before, we hurtled towards the hill at 50 mph and flew up the 1km sand track only just reaching the solid ground as the car started to slow. 3 Men and a Goat were less fortunate and got stuck after taking the wrong route and had to reverse back down, narrowly avoiding the cars coming pelting up!
Pushing on past where we got stuck we reached the short sharp decent to the road and surfed our way down on Sheila's large sump guard, reaching the safety of solid road. With Wendy arriving pulling their hand break, we had all made it in one peice. Feeling smug with ourselves we hit the tarmac only to be met by bottomless potholes for 200km, and a mixture of dirt track and broken tarmac for the following 300km. Possibly the worst day of driving yet, especially as 6 out of 9 of us had developed the shits. This required a lot of stops resulting in our 3 car convoy progressing very slowly. It was a very long day, but we eventually reached the border to Uzbekistan and found a hotel nearby to cross the following day.
What a 3 days it was, definitely the highlight of the rally so far.
Hopefully this blog was long enough to keep you tied over until the next!
Sandy and team Kilted and Klueless.
Croatia to Istanbul
Having been eaten alive in our first and last night 'under the Stars', we left our Croatian campsite and set off towards Bosnia with our sights set on Istanbul. Leaving the EU for the first time raised navigation issues as google maps was no longer an option. Fortunately there aren't many roads in Bosnia so we stuck to the same one the whole way through, and what a road it was. In the evening we were faced with one of the most amazing sunsets amongst the mountainous farmlands before a sketchy boarder crossing into Montenegro in the dark.
After much questioning and the exchange of afew dollar notes we were in and looking for somewhere to camp. It turns out that finding a spot to wild camp is a lot harder than it sounds, especially in the dark. Eventually we nervously pitched our tents In a grass field at the foot of what appeared to be a dam.
Up bright and early so as to avoid the farmer, we set off again, this time heading to Albania. Upon arrival at the boarder we found our entry blocked by another questionable guard who seemed to think that we were missing some sort of document and that the only solution was to hand him €50. Aware of what was going on but with little we could do about it, we explained that we didn't have any euros and asked if we could pay in dollars. Our suspicions were confirmed when he worked out the exchange rate to equal 10USD but we kept our mouths shut, payed him a fraction of his initial demand, and entered the country.
Albania was cheap, busy and picturesque, it wasn't until late afternoon that the road quality deteriorated to 20mph dusty rubble, littered with pot holes. This stretch of road went on for what felt like a life time but Sheila seemed to be coping fairly well. When the smooth surface finally reemerged our joy was short lived as it appeared that Sheila had not been as tough as initially assumed, and so the rattle began.
We crossed the Greek boarder that night and eventually found another place to wild camp, in a clearing amongst some lake side rushes. The next day Sandy drove six hours across Greece to the Turkish boarder where we waited 3 hours in 38 degree heat before being admitted to the country. On the final straight towards Istanbul the roads were heaving and we unfortunately managed to loose sister car, Wendy the wagon, for the first time. Fortunately we were booked into a hostel that night so the end of what had become a solid convoy team was only temporary.
George had the shift into Istanbul and it was certainly the short straw. Hundreds of road users all impatiently carving the quickest route to their destinations amongst pedestrians who seemed to be doing the same, unfased by the traffic. To make matters worse, googlemaps carved a route more outrageous than a taxi man trying to crank up the meter, through narrow cobbled streets that were far to steep for our poor powerless car. Eventually we rounder the correct corner and to our complete amazement were met by a street full of fellow Mongol rally cars. To top things off, Wendy arrived five minutes later.
⚠️ This will contain spelling mistakes.
Cologne-Crotia, 30 hours straight
Eventually after a full English we set off around 1.30pm with the intention of being in Munich by 7ish. However not long after cologne we hit horrific traffic and it quickly became apparent that this was not going to happen. So plan B was introduced. We found a lake between Cologne and Munich, went for a swim and cooked our supper. Leaving at around 7 we set off to drive through the night towards the Croatian coastline.
Shortly after nipping round the Munich bypass the weather took a drastic turn for the worse, a storm was brewing. And sure enough we found ourselves in the heaviest thunder and lightening storm any of us had ever seen. But nonetheless we ploughed on and into to Austria at around 2am. By this time we had decided our target for breakfast should be Lake Bled, so we pinned our ears back and headed to Slovenia. With our Eta being 5.30am we would be there for sunrise.
And boy was it worth the 16 hour drive. We parked up on the shore of the LOCH and watched the sun appear over the top of the mountains. After another quick dip and a bite to eat, we loaded up again and headed further south towards the Med. And we made it 24 hours after leaving Cologne! A well earned lunch and another swim was had. But we weren't done yet. Another 4 hour drive was to be had, however despite no sleep in 24 hours, the drive was glorious, a stunning road wiggling right the way along the coast. Arriving at a brilliant campsite in a small bay.
Our current location is south of Istanbul our tracker is this
https://share.garmin.com/kiltedandklueless
We decided that after making some good progress through Europe we decided would have a rest day in Istanbul. As a result of this the evening we arrived in town and enjoyed a coupe of cold beers on the hostel's rooftop bar.
Following day we woke not feeling particularly fresh. But we braced the heat and headed out to have a look at some sights.
First stop was the Blue Mosque. However en route to it, we manage to get a bit sidetracked and ended up getting our photos taking in traditional Turkish attire .
The Mosque was an incredible building that allowed us to go inside. Next we headed towards the river for lunch and to watch the fishermen. Whilst lunch was a success we didn't see any fish caught.
After this we headed back to our hostel but once again got sidetracked and all ended up buying some very ridiculous trousers. A great and good to see a new city
Off the Mark
Oxford to Cologne
On the 15th we left Oxford in our kilts and the newly painted car rammed full to the brim. It didn't take long for other road users to express their interest in our noble steed, mainly through waves, thumbs up and car horns. Upon arrival at Goodwood our tiny colourful car full of stuff no longer felt out of place. Hundreds of shitty cars disguised by their fresh paintwork and enthusiastic owners lined up in a large field to create the venue to the weirdest opening party I will ever attend.
Not so bright eyed or bushy tailed, in the morning we repacked the car and offloaded all but essentials. With Sheila feeling considerably more nimble we made our way to the start line for the lap of Goodwood, in a 390 car convoy. After a celebratory squirt of the fire extinguisher out of the window during the lap, it became clear that the extinguisher in question was a one use only job and thus the first casualty of the trip was made apparent.
Lap complete and the full convoy piled back out onto public roads to head towards Dover. Given that we all had the same immediate destination, we found it amusing that the first roundabout divided opinion on the correct direction to the coast as all exits were utilised. Fortunately we made our ferry, as did sister team Wendy the Wagon, piloted by uni friends of ours. Wendy cut it fine securing the last place on the boat.
Remembering to drive on the right / wrong side of the road, upon arrival in France we headed north, perpendicular to the fast route to Mongolia, to Amsterdam. Failing to see what all the Mongol rally fuss was about, we had an extremely relaxed couple of days with very little driving and ended up in Cologne where we were put up in an amazing German farm house owned by Gernot, a friend of the Glenalmond crew. After being fed the most tender of veal we were taken to the local for a couple of cold ones. We did not make our planned 9am departure the following day..
