Oo-ah, just a little bit, U-la, an-baatar...

Yes, Best Beloved, WE HAVE MADE IT!  Goodwood to Ulaanbaatar, in a Peugeot 206.

We reached the hallowed finish line of this 8,000-mile trip (as you all know from following us with our GPS tracker) late on Monday afternoon.  The last day's driving couldn't have been sweeter.  Awake at 6:30am and on the road less than an hour later (no mean feat with Mackey and Will of the **Scilly Mission** preferring a Saxo-based party over sleep that night), it wasn't too long before we hit that dreamed-of waypoint; tarmac which we knew (read hoped) would stay with us all the way to UB.  And a greater contrast of driving conditions there couldn't have been.  Since last Wednesday, our average speed across the backbone of Mongolia couldn't have been more than 20mph.  And for the last 4 hours of this 31 days of driving, it would be in excess of 60mph.

It is fair to say that the distance covered on non-existent roads had taken its toll on Percy.  To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, one puncture may be seen as unfortunate, two is careless.  Goodness knows then, what Mr. Wilde would have made of the seven we picked up between the Mongolian border, and Ulaanbaatar.  Or indeed of the eight bodges attempting to reattach the exhaust pipe to the engine.  There was also a scare on the penultimate day of this adventure, when hitting a ditch-deep rut across the track left Percy with fluid dripping from his front bumper and a horrible hissing noise emanating from the front right of the car.  An instinctive diagnosis was a cracked radiator but, on closer inspection, this fluid was not fragrant with the sweet smell of antifreeze.  Nor was the engine temperature going through the roof.  It wasn't oil or brake fluid.  No.  It was a cracked screenwash bottle and (after getting a local mechanic to take a quick look at the car) the air conditioning gas escaping through a hole in the hosing caused by contact with the fan belt!  A luckier esapce than this could not have been froeseen.  So long as Percy led the way for Pete the Saxo, a lack of screenwash wasn't a huge problem, and the air conditioning wasn't working anyway.  

Concerns about further issues with the cars (including a fast-deteriorating gearbox on Pete) all of a sudden diminished when we finally hit the black stuff.  The road was smooth and 40mph all of a sudden seemed like the speed of light.  We were back up into top gear properly for the first time since Russia over a week ago.  The end was in sight.  Well, barring the smoggy layer that engulfs the Mongolian capital.

Driving in UB (admittedly at this point I handed Percy's reins over to Ems who "likes city driving") was crazy, bordering on plain dangerous.  There are very limited traffic laws there, it appears.  Pedestrians risk their lives to simply cross the road.  Even with the lights on red and the man on green, cars just drive on without slowing for the hapless Mongolians in their paths.  In fact, they speed up and toot their horns.  Mad.

Luckily, on entering UB from the west, there were only two turns to negotiate before arriving at the Finish Line, a pub covered in Mongol Rally regalia with a huge parking lot out the back.  We were there.  Percy's new home, our new watering hole for the next couple of days.

A quick bit of paperwork completed to sign Percy away to his fate (the outcome of this will hopefully be known in the next few days), and we were ready to add our names to the Finishing List.  We were the 76th team to arrive in UB, though in terms of those who had made it with their vehicles, probably a lot higher.  Now, I know the aim isn't to finish first (at least, our's wasn't), yet it remains immensely satisfying that we completed this venture broadly on schedule, safely and under our own steam and with plenty of tales, new friends (and yes, photographs too!), regardless of position.

And so on to a hotel, with hot water (it failed to deliver said promise the next morning, mind you), a bed and a little patch of floor on which to empty all our dusty clothes, kit and assorted items from the car (including number plates) to try and pack some bags that would be accepted by Air China in a few days time.  It was then time for a celebratory dinner, but I will let Ems write to you all about that one...

Much love, 

E&E 

Short Stories from Siberia

I really am lost for where to start. So much has happened since we last wrote in Astana that I can't capture it all in one sitting. This is hence a fleeting summary; for all the best stories you are going to have to bribe (or as officials out here call it; *present, **souvenir?*) us with drinks upon our return.

For more comprehensive coverage, I suggest www.scillymission.com - our newest new best friends.

The Kindness of Strangers: one thing we have both been constantly amazed with is the generosity of strangers. Not speaking a word of English they will go out of their way to help us with directions, advice, drinks and a friendly handshake. Take for example the night after we left Astana. In the pitch black, tired and hungry we were at our wits end looking for a hotel. A friendly security guard (again called **Ruslan**) ran in front of our car for 5 minutes to shepherd us to a place to stay. Without him we would never have found it. The next morning he even gave us a guided tour of the area. 

 

Camping it up: some friends may have scoffed at the prospect of this author spending even one night in a tent. It is therefore with great delight that I inform you of much happy camping throughout the trip. The highlights have included 10 teams camping next to a gushing river in the silver birch woodlands of Siberia (Region of Altai). But it hasn't all been smooth sailing; DEET-immune mosquitos are a constant plague, so much so that a couple of days ago we stopped on a slope so infested that we decided to continue driving for a further couple of hours.  On rubbish roads.  In the dark.  Fun!  

 

Bordering on crazy: some people thought the tracker was broken, some thought we had given up - what could be the reason for no movement in three days? Paperwork. We arrived at the Russian border at 9am on Monday morning, full of enthusiasm (Laura from **The Two Mongoleers** predicted we would be in Mongolia by that night). In reality by that night we were locked in the Mongolian immigration impound, sleeping in our cars. Oh yes, and it was snowing. And -6C.

 

We are now actually in Mongolia! The landscape is vast and has a wild beauty that continues to take us by surprise and delight us. It is also this wild beauty that is taking its toll on Percy (and Pete the Saxo from **Scilly Mission**). Two flat tires apiece and both exhausts sound like tanks (my co-driver reckons more like a World Rally car). Apparently there is more to come today with another deep river crossing. Footage to follow. 

 

That's the whizz-bang tour of the last week and a bit.  No more internet before UB, we reckon, so until then my friends.

xx

Republic of Altai, Russian Federation

finally arrived at the border with Mongolia at 9am today! There's a huge Rally contingent here, and all the talk is around when we will clear this final frontier.

Kazakh Chronicles Part 2

Yesh gemesh, my friends.

Sexy times here in Borat's beloved Kazakhstan.  This country may not quite be about incest or chickens-in-suitcases comedy (see Part 1), but it certainly doesn't yet take full advantage of the rather astounding resources at its fingertips.  Yes, it is plundering away at oil, gas and mineral reserves, but it also needs to realise that it benefits from an environment geared to tourism.  And I don't just mean Kazakh weekenders or Russians.

Over the past few days we have tried oh-so hard to experience what I shall call the 'real' Kazakhstan.  Phrasebook in hand, we tried in Kokshetau to arrange a homestay with a local village family.  We failed at Step 1, finding the hallowed NGO that could facilitate this stay, but also finding it shut (with no-one any the wiser as to when it would open again).  Yesterday, with the promise of flamingos, salt pans and a night in a tent on the vast Kazakh steppe, we headed to the Korgalzhyn National Park.  We needed a permit to enter the park (understandable, I hear you sigh), but on finding the Park's administration centre, also found that we could only access the park with a guide.  Camping was also not allowed.  Luckily, we also bumped into Francesco, an Italian with the gift of being able to speak Russian.

He helped negotiate said guide (with car - though this was a Golf and not suited to the terrain over which we were then taken!) and we set off for a bit of a tour of the reserve.  It was beautiful, although the amassing grey skies tried their best to ruin it.  Vast expanses of salt pans, lakes, birdlife and dust (everywhere!) that would have merited a good day of exploring.  Alas, we had 4 hours, constrained by our driver not having the right permit to be on the reserve beyond 7pm, and the park apparently being closed on Mondays.  And Tuesdays.

Although we got a glimpse of this rather special place, we set off back to Astana, as the common theme of inaccessibility of all these experiences (admittedly not helped by a lacking grasp of the Russian language) continued to itch like the mosquito bites picked up lakeside.

We'll see if Astana's museums provide an introduction to Kazakh life instead, whilst the **Two Mongoleers** and **Scilly Mission** (the latter hopefully) catch us up in due course.  Some company would be welcome as we head back towards Russia.

And then to Mongolia, where hopefully the chance to truly explore the country beckons.  On our terms.

Tching-que,

E&E

Kazakh Chronicles Part 1

Before I start, I wanted to share with you an observation about policemens' hats. It appears the further east we are going the more ridiculous they are getting. While they can not be entirely practical for police-related activities, they would be ideal for Royal Ascot.

The passage from Russia to Kazahstan could not have been easier. In all honesty it was a bit disconcerting. A lovely official (an Arsenal fan) took a shine to us and we were procesed in double quick time, barely searched and welcomed into Kazakhstan with open arms.

You can not escape the fact that Kazakhsan was, not too long ago, most definitely Soviet. Our Russian phrasebook is more useful here than in the Motherland (with frantic calls of 'wait wait' as we thumb through the book searching for the correct word). An abundance of large concrete blocks and some other telltale architectural features (the ubiquitous hammer and sickle) are still visible in every town.

Things are changing in Kazahstan though, and I admit to being more than a little impressed with the country and where it is heading. We met a delightful (and I suspect, high ranking) chap from the Goverment at lunch the other day. After recovering from his surprise (and amusement) that we had driven to Astana from the UK, he was keen to hear what we thought of the country. He also wanted to know what the people of England think about Kazakhstan. Try tackling that simple question over 'a quick bite'. I would go as far as to say I handled it with a level of diplomacy that would have impressed even David Dimbleby.

Astana feels like it should be the punch line of a joke that starts 'what would you get if you crossed Dubai with Disneyland?'. As I like both, Astana suits me well.

I will leave my esteemed co-driver to make all the obvious Borat jokes in part 2...

 

Rally News

Ed and I both want to extend our heartfelt sympathy and support to all the family and friends of the Mongol Rally team involved in the fatal crash last Friday. We feel as though everyone on the Rally shares a common bond, and it is truely terrible to have lost a member of the Rally community. Our thoughts and prayers are with you all.

Orthodox Experience

Good morning in whatever time zone you are in. I bearly know what time zone we are in these days so have no hope keeping up with what the time is at home.The last words of wisdom (writen by my charming co-driver) came to you from Rostov. A quick word of undying thanks to the entire Peugeot Garage in that town. (with a special mention to **Ruslan**, a white knight if ever I saw one). Percy was returned to us, not only sparkling from a wash, but also with all those technical issues (I wasn't concentrating on exactly what) fixed. "Huzzah" I hear you cry dear reader!And so, on from Rostov, with our faith in mankind and Russian hospitality restored.The next two days included some pretty grim driving for Ed. As you know we are on this new route and while infinitely quicker, also infinitely more Russian drivers. We have seen some things that would make even the most hardened drivers from Rome blanch.Still, some highlights were to be had. On our way into Vologograd (formerly Stalingrad) we met up with two other Mongol Rally teams. These were the first we have seen since leavin the Czech boarder. It was great to catch up with the lovely chaps from **BathBaatarGT** (GB) and **Apello Mission** (ESP). We shared a cup of rather warm red wine and a biscuit, rather like a holy communion on the side of a dusty road.Ok I have to end this quickly as Ed is chomping at the bit to get on the road again. As our little route tracker shows we are currently in Ufa (founded by Ivan the Terrible don'tcha know?) and today we march onwards in an easterly direction.As we are often heard to be saying on the CB radio: **transmisson over**

From Russia with tough love

Zdrasvooytyeh (at least that is the phonetic spelling) from Rostov, a bustling Soviet town just NE of the Black Sea, where at 5pm today the mercury rose to 41C.

The last few days have been by far the most testing.  Slovakia - although a very pretty country to which I would like to return - was stormy.  Unlit roads (even motorways!) made driving in the early hours of the night rather precarious, but we battled through to our first proper border crossing midday-ish on Wednesday.  It took 2 hours to clear the Ukrainian side, after sitting and playing dumb whilst being told all my documents were wrong.  Not playing ball, they finally got bored of me (and my 'lack' of knowledge of any language other than English, at which they were far from adept), and turned their attentions to the Belgian who professed to speaking German.  Note, Russians/former Soviets speak German rather well.

And into the Ukraine we drove.  And the roads were RUBBISH!  Pot holes take on a whole new definition here.  Although as in the UK a severe winter can ruin a road, the addition of 32-tonne trucks all of a sudden made the 1,000 miles that lay ahead an obstacle course of axle-breakers rather than a beeline for Russia.

It took two days.  A couple of 'official' stops by the roadside (albeit without handing over any 'fines') each day made for a welcome change to the constant weaving and bumping around holes the size of a Surrey swimming pool.  Yesterday, as we set off towards the Ukraine-Russia border, however, Percy began to show signs of weariness.  The weather was improving as we left Europe behind, and all of a sudden, 20 minutes into our drive to the border, Percy's water temperature hit the 95C mark.  We pulled over and let him cool down.  What to do with the prospect of another 8,000 miles of hard graft through some of the world's driest and hottest places, and a cooling fan that appears not to work?  Phone for mechanical help.  The answer?  Turn the heater on to full blast at full heat to draw cooler air through the engine.  And so we did.  Outside the car, the temperature was about 30C.  Inside, it was more like 50C.  A couple of hours of this torture, and we sought respite at the border during the political process.  The Ukraine section passed relatively quickly (after I gave one guard 51 of Her Majesty's finest pennies), as funnily enough did the Russian proceedings.  4 hours later (I reckon that's pretty good!) and we were off.  Smooth roads and hot air outside the car and in.  We trundled towards Rostov.  And then got stopped.  By the police who craftily snapped me crossing a solid white line whilst struggling to overtake a lorry.  Think of it like F1 and crossing the pitlane exit.  A big no-no, I was assured, as the threat of having my license taken away or a 300 Euro fine put me in a bit of a dilemma.  Ah-ha, I thought.  'I only have 50' was my retort.  'Not good, not good' was the policeman's.  In the end, I kept my license.  He kept 100 Euros.  I had been caught, and by this point was not in the mood for a protracted discussion.

So to Rostov, where we stopped at a hotel (very Soviet and very comfy!) for a decent night's sleep.  We had learnt that Rostov has its own Peugeot dealer, and decided that we'd take Percy to be examined more closely today.  And there we sat, in an air-conditioned showroom that could have been anywhere in the world (until, that is, you went outside for some fresh air and got hit by 41C heat!).

The diagnosis is not brilliant.  Cooling system issues and two temperature control units that are conflicting with each other; well, that's what we figures between broken English and much hand-waving.  Percy should (touch all the wood and faux-wood-effect you can find!) be sorted by tomorrow.  Apparently for 30 pounds.  Apparently.

In light of this delay and serious concerns about the toll the road ahead will take on the car, we have decided to alter our route to give us (hopefully) more time to explore Mongolia properly.  With only 2 of us in the car, the driving is taking its toll on us too - we are both shattered.  Wishing very much to spend some quality time in Mongolia rather than just making a line for UB, we are now going to make the most of the Russian roads until Petropavlovsk in Kazakhstan. Then it'll be down to Astana and the surrounding nature reserves for a few days, before heading off east, back into Russia and then into Mongolia, where we hope to take a more leisurely pace to get to our goal.  Hopefully, this'll make the experience more than driving a car for 5 weeks, and we'll see Mongolia properly.  Central Asia can be done as a separate holiday.

Right, internet time is almost up so I am off.  Do keep tracking our progress (or, like today, otherwise), and we'll update you in due course.

From Russia, with love,

E&E

Check-In Czech-Out

What ho dear reader, thank you for joining us for the European Update.

First, a word about one of the most irritating things in the world: writing an entire blog entry, and then because you are dealing with a computer in Germany where you don't understand their short cuts you lose it all and have to start again.....

As you know Saturday was D-day and the big send off. Goodwood was alive with the humming of 1 litre engines, sireens and banter. I have never seen such a collection of vechicals, a whole fleet of ambulances, a fire engine, an ancient rolls royce and not one but two green goddess (both painted white). Jolly decent of our friends and families to come and see us off (special mention for Wendy, Annalise and Jack). Percy was liberally douced in champagne for luck, but not from my glass. This author needed her own champagne doucing.

By the time we were on the ferry the rally grapevine was whispering of a team that didn't make it 30 minutes away from Goodwood. Later it was confirmed that some plonker drove straight into the side of our comrades *when they were stationary. *Their car was written off, but the team is carrying on. Bravo.

I am now sitting in our rather lovely hotel in Nurnberg (thanks to Enrica and David), I feel a little naughty. Is staying in a plush hotel cheating? Will someone tell the adventurers? On the other hand, I expect if you have met me for more than 5 minutes I guess the hotel is not a total suprise. Don't be fooled, hotel staying comes with its own difficulties: breakfast this morning was an all you can eat buffet affair. I took this to be a challenge and my competitive spirit came to the fore. I ate enough for two Americans, even the Germans were impressed by my efforts.  

Ed is off purchasing fuel for the Czech Out party tonight. 800 cars converge on a castle for a night of debauchery. Messy? You Bet.

Toodle pip,

E & E

 

 

Cette fois la semaine prochaine...

... nous serons en France (maybe even Belgium, but I can't speak Flemish)!

Yes everybody, this time next week we will (touch the biggest plank of wood you have to hand) be on our way, munching through European autoroutes and autobahns on our trip eastwards.

Despite this most potty of challenges being way off in the future for much of late 2009 and 2010 thus far, it dawned on me yesterday evening whilst spending time with the car that there was in fact only one more week (even less now) to tie up the multiple loose ends and get as much sorted as possible.  After all, that time next week we'd hopefully be on a ferry to Country #2 of our travels (France, in case you have yet to study the 'Route' page of this website in close detail) and not broken down on the A27...

So, what is left to do?  Well, today it's off for one final shop at the various camping outfitters of Covent Garden to source extra camping gas, and to debate the merits of freeze-dried chilli con carne vs freeze-dried Lancashire hot pot.  We are also awaiting the arrival of our GPS tracking system, which should now have finished its demo duties and so will be with us shortly (now this I AM looking forward to playing with).

I (Ed) also still need to source an appropriate outfit for Czechout.  Apparently most take this aspect of the Rally VERY seriously indeed and so some costume planning is called for.  Suggestions on this front welcome (theme is all things Jules Verne)!

Then, it's just a case of packing up Percy.  'Just', I say with a hint of naivety.  It may sound an arbitrary task, but you'd be amazed at the amount of kit that is deemed 'necessary' for 5 weeks on the road.  Like two of IKEA's most adept storage solution designers, however, we are slowly establishing our 'system' and making the most of our limited space.  I guarantee, however, that come Friday (5 days away - argh!), the first battle will be what goes and what stays...

Getting excited now - promise to update you all as the start line looms.

E & E