Our Tokyo Top Ten

We’ve spent one weird and wonderful week in the biggest, busiest mega-city in the world. Rather than give a detailed blow-by-blow account of how we spent every minute of every day, we thought we’d change it up a bit and summarise ten of our favourite (or most interesting) Tokyo experiences.

  1. Commuter hell: the Tokyo rush hour challenge

It was about one o’clock in the morning when our plane touched down at Tokyo’s Haneda airport. This wasn’t a great time to arrive, as public transport shuts down at midnight in Tokyo. We chose to attempt to sleep in the airport rather than pay for an expensive taxi, which had an interesting unexpected consequence: we got up in the morning, and hit rush hour on Tokyo’s transport network.

Rush hour in Tokyo is a bit like rush hour in London, only there are a lot more people involved. Tokyo is the most populated city in the world, and every day about 40 million people travel on the rail network. The Japanese even have a term for the daily rush hour challenge: “tsukin jigoku”, which means “commuter hell”. When we changed trains at the city centre, Shane and I stood back for a while just to watch rush hour people traffic. It was like watching schools of fish in the sea. Everyone knew where they were going; it was as if they were caught up in a stream, and different streams moved in the same direction continuously. It wasn’t overly stressful or frantic, but you had to slot into your place in the stream, which was something Shane and I obviously failed to do as we bumbled around with our big bags trying to decipher the Japanese signs and work out where to go next.

We found our way, and waited on the platform for our train. As it approached, we noticed it looked rather full. “We’ll never get on there with our bags”, said Shane. “Well we don’t have much choice”, I replied. The train was full, but the next train would be full too.  We managed to squeeze on and survived our journey, sandwiched between people like sardines.

 

Tokyo’s rail and subway network

 

  1. Harajuku’s owl cafe

Tokyo is full of animal cafes: places where you can get a drink, have a snack and chill out with a cat, goat or even a hedgehog. While I loved the idea of a hedgehog cafe, I also thought it might prove a little prickly, and I was quickly captured by a softer alternative – an owl cafe. The owl cafe in Harajuku sounded great. A place where you could sit, have a drink, and stroke an owl at the same time. Owl cafes are even advertised as “healing” places, as stroking an owl can apparently reduce stress.

Sadly, the reality of the owl cafe was a little different. We arrived at our appointed time, were given a drink, and then waited for our allotted 35 minutes of owl time. “Cafe time” and “owl time” had to be separated for hygiene reasons, so it was more like having a quick drink and then heading to a petting zoo than the holistic “owl cafe” experience I had imagined.

Next we read the owl cafe warning card, which included warnings such as “don’t take the smaller owls near the bigger owls, because the bigger owls will eat them” (comforting), and “watch out for owl excrement” (lovely). When it was time, we proceeded outside onto a little balcony area of the cafe, where about 10 owls were sat waiting for us. It then dawned on me that 1) the owls looked sad as they sat chained to their perches and stared out of the window wishing for freedom, 2) owls are nocturnal animals, so keeping them awake during the day for tourists to stroke them probably wasn’t ideal, and 3) the space they lived in was probably too small for them to be happy.

I half heartedly stroked an owl, and then witnessed a very large owl jump (almost hitting me), as if it were trying to escape. That was the end of our time in the owl cafe.

 

One sad looking owl

Another sad looking owl

 

  1. The robot restaurant

Another day, another disappointment. As a robot enthusiast, I couldn’t miss Tokyo’s robot restaurant. Despite the fact it was obviously super-touristy and overpriced, and despite Shane’s protestations that “they won’t be real robots” (I disagreed, it was called the ROBOT restaurant after all!), I just had to visit the robot restaurant.

Sure enough, it wasn’t really a restaurant, and there were no robots. However, there was some very interesting (completely bizarre) entertainment, complete with glow sticks, flashing lights, bright colours, loud music and strange costumes. We might not have seen real robots, but we did see a giant fish, a giant chicken, the full cast of the show singing the YMCA, and much, much more. It wasn’t what I was hoping for, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime (I am never doing it again), out of this world, surreal experience.

 

When you go to a robot restaurant… and a giant fish turns up

Shane enjoying the psychadelic robot restaurant atmosphere

  1. Tsukiji Fish market

Tokyo is home to the biggest fish market in the world. It’s a wholesale market so tourists aren’t overly welcome. In fact, we weren’t allowed inside until 10am, and even then our movements were closely watched and we were banned from taking photographs… although I did manage the odd sneaky fish photo. We saw quite a few interesting sights at the fish market, such as packaged “snacks”, including an “eel bone snack” (I don’t think eels have bones, but never mind), a “dried kelp snack”, a tiny-octopus-on-a-stick, and more. We also saw some fish getting chopped up while still alive (there was a lot of wriggling and flapping about), and various other tanks with live fish and squid. It seems the system is that you select your fish while it’s still alive, and then it is chopped up and given to you in a bag!

We would have liked to get to the fish market in time for the tuna auction, which takes place every morning at 3am, but only a limited number of tourists are allowed to watch, and 3am was a little too early for us!

Tsukiji fish market

Eel bone snack

Octopus on a stick

Fishes at the fish market

  1. Weird museums

So little time, so many weird museums. One of Tokyo’s finest museums has to be the very small but beautifully formed parasite museum, where you can look under a microscope at tiny parasites and learn about how parasites get into your body and what they can do. We learnt about the history of parasites in Japan (eating sushi = parasites for life) and even saw an 8.8m long tape worm!

Parasites

8.8m long tape worm

Another highlight was the Cup Noodles museum in Yokohama. The Cup Noodles museum contains five floors of exhibits about Cup Noodles. In the Cup Noodles museum you can explore a replica of the house where cup noodles were first invented, view noodle-related artwork, make your own cup noodles and (if you are under 10 years old), pretend to be a noodle in the noodle park. While I could barely contain my disappointment about being too old to play in the noodle park, I had a lovely time making my own cup noodles, although I may have chosen some slightly odd flavour combinations. I visited the Cup Noodles museum with my parents, and on the way out asked my Mum whether the whole thing was for real, or whether it was a bit of a joke. “Absolutely for real”, she replied, “it’s like the Japanese version of Cadbury World.”

Making our very own cup noodles

Cup noodle related artwork

Lots of cup noodles

  1. Senso-ji temple

Senso-ji temple is Tokyo’s oldest temple, founded in 645 AD.  It is an Ancient Buddhist temple and is the most widely visited spiritual site in the world. It is located right in the heart of the city, surrounded by imposing gates, touristy shops and is next to a five storey pagoda (the Asakusa shrine).

On our visit to Senso-ji temple we explored the nooks and crannies of the temple grounds, marvelling at the big golden buddha statues. The main shop-lined street leading up to the main building of the temple was hectic, with worshippers and tourists alike jostling to buy their souvenirs and reach the temple, but beyond that it was a calm and quiet place complete with a contemplative garden.  Within the temple itself it was also possible to consult with the oracle (for the small price of 100 yen – about 75p). We’ve seen some fantastic temples already in South Korea, and although this temple wasn’t as aesthetically impressive, it was more original and felt more like a place of spiritual significance than a big tourist attraction.

Senso-ji temple

 

Senso-ji temple

  1. Shibuya crossing

Shibuya crossing is a massive pedestrian crossing outside Shibuya station in central Tokyo. Pedestrians can cross in about twelve different directions, and it is a great opportunity to watch a sea of people moving quickly and seamlessly through Tokyo without being caught in the middle of the people-crush. We visited the crossing at about 2pm on a weekday – far from rush hour, but the crossing was still busy. We spent a good hour or two here just people watching from different angles and trying to get a good photo. Check out the link to our instagram page below for a quick video of the crossing in progress:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BZiYFC8A13-/?hl=en&taken-by=shaneandgeorgia

Shibuya crossing

  1. Staying at a capsule hotel

On our first night in Tokyo we stayed in a capsule hotel. This is something I’ve always wanted to do (Shane was less keen), but we both enjoyed the experience. In fact, it was probably the nicest place we’ve stayed so far, although that might say more about the standard of our accommodation to date than anything else.

We stayed at Nine Hours North – a trendy, modern capsule hotel in Shinjuku, and one of the few capsule hotels that allows both men and women to stay the night (most capsule hotels are male only). The capsule hotel had a clean, white, minimalist design. Check-in was simple and efficient, and we were given a locker key, a capsule number and a bag with free pyjamas, slippers and towels. There were separate floors for men and women and one bare common room area with charging points, desks and chairs. There were also clean and fairly luxuourious washroom areas for men and women, with excellent toilet and shower facilities. The toilets were particularly exciting, as they had a number of different buttons for different functions, although it wasn’t always easy to work out what was what. In Shane’s words, you needed a degree to use the toilets.

The capsules themselves were comfortable and more spacious than expected. There were over 50 capsules in each room, but my little pod was surprisingly quiet and felt very private once I pulled down the blind separating me from the outside world. I also had a light and charging point in my capsule. Both Shane and I enjoyed an excellent night’s sleep inside.

Compared to hole-in-the-ground toilets and tent camping on the Mongol Rally, staying in a capsule hotel was pure luxury. Unfortunately, although capsule hotels market themselves as “budget” accommodation, it didn’t come cheap. At £40 per night for two capsules in the heart of Shinjuku, the price wasn’t bad by Tokyo standards, but it was pretty expensive to us. After our one night of relative luxury, we checked out of our capsules and went back to roughing it at a seriously budget guest house down the road for half the price.

One floor of our capsule hotel

A typical capsule

  1. Meeting Asimo the robot

After the robot-restaurant-fail, my next attempt to visit Tokyo’s robots took place at the Emerging Science and Innovation Museum. The museum was packed with interesting exhibits about new technology, from using the human body itself as an electronic communication device to 3D printing in every home. We went to see a replica of the international space station, read about how Japan is trying to use technology to improve levels of physical activity using different types of music technology and saw the museum’s star attraction: Asimo.

Shane and I had both seen Asimo on TV, so seeing him in real life was a little bit like meeting a celebrity. Asimo is a humanoid robot, so he has a human shape with arms, legs and a face, and moves and talks a bit like a human. We watched Asimo walk, talk, kick a football and sing a song complete with Japanese sign language. It was very impressive, and went some way towards making up for the disappointment of not seeing robots at the robot restaurant.

Asimo

  1. Disneyland and Disneysea

What could be better than visiting the happiest place on earth? Visiting the happiest place on earth with Shane, my parents and my brother, of course!

Mum, Dad and Tom flew out to meet us in Tokyo for a few days of Disney fun 🙂 Unlike the recent Disney park additions of Shanghai and, to a lesser extent, Hong Kong, Tokyo Disneyland has been around for 35 years. It contains all the Disney atmosphere and the classic rides, but is incredibly efficient, friendly and full of people who know how to dress in Disneyland.

While Tokyo Disneyland was very similar to the California/Florida/Hong Kong/Paris parks we know and love, Disneysea was an entirely new theme park with some incredible theming and new and exciting rides. One minute we were in Ariel’s mermaid lagoon, the next we were in a gondola in Venice. In Tokyo’s Disneysea we even spotted our old friend Lewis Hamilton, proving that when he’s not racing around, even Lewis can’t resist a bit of Disney time 🙂 No visit to Tokyo can be complete without a magical day out at Disney!

Tokyo Disneyland

Tom in his favourite Disney outfit

It’s been a strange and surprising week in Tokyo, and Mum, Dad and Tom are loving it just as much as we are. We will all be travelling together for the next two weeks, and thanks to them Shane and I are having a two-week break from dodgy hostels and airport sleeping. Tomorrow we are all leaving Tokyo on a cruise ship to see some more of Japan and some more of South Korea before we end up in Shanghai and have to go our separate ways again. Sayonara Tokyo!

Streets of Tokyo

Night time in Tokyo

Gangnam Style

As our plane touched down at South Korea’s Incheon Airport, it felt as though we’d travelled a lot further than the two-hour plane ride from Vladivostok would suggest.  The airport was enormous. It was so enormous that it was slightly intimidating. We had arrived very late at night and I was starting to worry about how long it would take us to navigate this monster of an airport and make it to our hostel in the centre of Seoul. But I needn’t have worried. The airport wasn’t just huge – it was also incredibly efficient. And clean. Very, very clean. We have since learnt that Incheon airport has been voted world’s best airport by Airports Council International every single year since 2005, and world’s cleanest airport by Skytrax. It wasn’t hard to see why.

It took us just minutes to get off the plane, take a small airport train to the arrivals area and clear immigration. It was a very smooth, automated process, complete with an English speaking talking fingerprint machine. All in all, it was a very different experience from the lengthy border crossings we encountered on the Mongol Rally.  Airport authorities claim that average arrival takes 19 minutes, compared to a worldwide average of 45 minutes. This is an achievement in itself, but when the airport is also one of the biggest in the world and still manages to be so speedy, it’s hard not to be impressed.

Incheon airport is located around 60km west of Seoul city, so we still had a bit of a journey to get to our hostel in the city centre. Thanks to the wonderful South Korean public transport system all we had to do was board a comfortable and very regular bus that happened to stop right outside our hostel. It couldn’t have been easier. I felt a love affair with South Korea starting to blossom.

The next morning we started exploring. We visited Gyeongbokgung Palace, one of five palaces in the city centre, and the main palace of the Joseon dynasty from 1395 until the 1900s. It formed a massive complex of over 330 buildings. Unfortunately much of the Palace was destroyed in 1911 during the Japanese occupation of Korea, and although there has been a massive reconstruction effort only 40% of the palace has been restored. Nevertheless, there was plenty to see.

An interesting quirk of the Palace was that you could enter for free if you were wearing traditional Korean dress. Although entry to the Palace only cost 3000 Korean Wan (about £2), there were plenty of local residents who made the effort to dress up in traditional clothes in order to bag a free ticket and to take a few selfies while they were at it.

 

Korean visitors in traditional dress at Gyeongbokgung Palace

Gyeongbokgung Palace

Gyeongbokgung Palace

Gyeongbokgung Palace

From Gyengbokgung Palace we strolled over to Bukchon Hanok Village, a traditional Korean village in the centre of Seoul, where the buildings and traditions have been preserved for 600 years. This was a living, breathing village made up of pretty traditional houses and narrow streets… and a number of signs asking tourists to please “keep quiet” and “refrain from shouting”. There were no shortage of visitors and we could imagine the local people get fed up of us clogging up their streets and making noise.

We then took a bus to Namsan Park where we climbed Nam Mountain – a peak in the middle of the city – and bought tickets to enter Seoul Tower on top of the mountain for a good look at the view. When purchasing our tickets, we found there was an interesting deal on. We could buy two tickets to the tower. Or, for just 70p extra, we could buy two tickets, a large popcorn and two large soft drinks. Obviously we went for the strange popcorn deal, and enjoyed the view with a delicious snack. This was the first of many delicious snacks we consumed in South Korea.

Seoul skyline by day

Seoul skyline by night

We watched the sunset from the tower and then headed back towards our hostel, stopping on the way for delicious snack number two: Korean BBQ. We ate at a restaurant with a BBQ built into the table, and were given a plate of meat which we grilled ourselves and ate with a variety of side dishes. It was delicious, and we started to fall in love with Korean food as well as South Korea itself.

We love Korean BBQ

On our second day in Seoul we were picked up early in the morning for a tour to the Korean demilitarized zone (DMZ) – a 4km buffer zone between North and South Korea.

After North and South Korea formed separated nations, war broke out between the two sides. An Armistice agreement in 1953 created the demilitarized zone between the two countries. Both sides agreed to move their troops back 2km from the front line to try and prevent another outbreak of war. Despite this, large numbers of troops are still stationed along both sides, and beyond the 2km buffer zone this remains one of the most heavily militarized borders in the world.

Due to recent escalating tensions between North and South Korea, we weren’t allowed to go into the demilitarized zone itself, or into the joint security area between the two countries, but we were allowed to see a number of other interesting sights on the edge of the zone. A couple of highlights were:

  • Freedom Bridge, where former South Korean and Allied POW’s were traded and could return safely back home.
  • An underground tunnel, which was built right under the DMZ by North Korea. They were planning to use the tunnel to attack South Korea. This was one of four tunnels discovered so far, and South Korea believes there are many more.
  • Dorsan Station, which used to connect North and South Korea. Trains ran every weekday for a very short time from 2007 to 2008, until the North Korean government closed the border crossing. Now the station stands as it was, complete with empty platforms and an empty immigration hall. Our tour guide spoke repeatedly of the trains resuming once “unification” is achieved. This was suggested as if Korea will be one country again next week when in fact that feels like a lifetime away at the moment.

Relaxing at the DMZ

No trains to Pyongyang today

After our tour of the DMZ we caught the subway to Hongdae, a very trendy neighbourhood in central Seoul, filled with street food, karaoke bars, shops and weird and wonderful shops. We headed for the fun-filled and interesting looking Trick-Eye museum and ice museum. We were expecting to encounter strange and clever optical illusions, but this is really just a place to take selfies and marvel at ice sculptures. There was also an ice slide, which was quite fun but very cold.

Oh dear

Shane surfing the waves

Don’t eat me!

Chilling in the ice museum

We were in the middle of taking weird selfies when I got an unexpected phone call. Roy from the Mongol Rally team The Coddiwomples (the team driving Martha back through Europe) was stuck with Martha at the border between Russia and Estonia. While we had successfully and legally changed ownership of Martha, there was a problem with the Russian customs form for her. It was in my name. And I had to be there in person to get her out.

This was impossible. Not just because I was having a great time at the Trick-Eye museum and didn’t want to go and deal with more paperwork, but because they were on the other side of Russia – 10,000km away. I talked about the options with Roy. I tried sending a picture of my passport with the stamp to show I had left Russia already, and that didn’t work. The boys could leave Martha in Russia (illegally) and cross the border without her, but then we would all lose our deposit with the Adventurists and possibly never be allowed to return to Russia. It seemed absurd that the border officials would rather have to deal with an abandoned car than let the boys through, but then there isn’t much common sense when it comes to Russian bureaucracy.

There was one other thing we could try. If the boys had a note from my doctor which said I had left Russia due to ill health and was still too unwell to return to collect the car, that might persuade the border officers that I couldn’t be there in person to sort out the customs form.

So, bearing in mind that the boys were stuck at the border (not a great place to be), Shane and I hotfooted it to an internet café as quickly as we could. We set to work producing the doctor’s note, which was a challenge as everything we did on the computer was in Korean. Thankfully, some hours after receiving the note and showing it to the Russian border officers, Martha and Team Coddiwomples were permitted to enter Europe.

Our final morning in Seoul was spent visiting Changdeokgung Palace. The Palace itself was smaller than Gyeongbokgung but it had a beautiful secret garden at the back filled with stunning plants, ponds and pagodas.

Secret garden, Changdeokgung Palace

Next we had a lunch stop in Gwangjang market, one of South Korea’s largest traditional markets. It was filled with weird and interesting food. “Do I try the pig skin, the chicken feet, or the ox head?” I mused, eventually plumping for the ox head (which unfortunately tasted pretty much as gross as it sounds). While I felt a bit sorry for myself chewing on ox head, Shane was having a whale of a time as he discovered some delicious pork meatballs. Luckily he ordered a huge portion so there was enough for me to try some too.

The not-very-delicious ox head 🙁

Shane bartering for some jelly snakes

After lunch we wandered down Cheonggyecheon Stream – a canal in the middle of the city which stretches for 11km and serves as a kind of recreation space – and then found an all-you-can-eat Korean BBQ restaurant where I could try all the weird food I wanted while also eating the good stuff.

On our fourth day in South Korea we packed up our bags and took a bullet train from Seoul to Gyeongju, where we are stayed for four nights. The train was fantastic. It was on time (apparently trains in South Korea are ALWAYS on time), air conditioned, with comfortable seats and a TV.

In our guidebook, Gyeongju is referred to as “the museum without walls”. It was the capital of the ancient kingdom of Silla, which ruled a large chunk of the Korean Peninsula from 57 BC to 935 AD, and a number of artefacts and buildings from this period are scattered over the area. There are big grassy hills dotted all over Gyeongju – tombs from Ancient times – and we visited the Gyeongju museum to see the jewels and treasures that were discovered inside.

We also visited Bulguksa Temple (home to a number of Buddha statues) and the Seokguram Grotto (a mandmade cave with a giant Buddha and other figures carved out of the rock). Both were very impressive and set in calm, beautiful surroundings. There are so many historical sites dotted throughout Gyeongju that it would have been impossible to see them all, even if we were visiting for a year.

Bulguksa Temple, Gyeongju

Bulguksa Temple, Gyeongju

Bulguksa Temple, Gyeongju

We have enjoyed everything about our visit to South Korea – from efficient transportation to beautiful palaces and landscapes to Korean BBQ – we have had a truly fantastic time. Travelling in South Korea has been so simple and easy. While the Mongol Rally felt like a challenge at times, it now feels as though we are finally on holiday J We will be returning to South Korea in October to visit Busan and Jeju, but for now… we are off to Japan!

Taking the Trans-Siberian railway to the end of the world

After crossing the Mongol Rally finish line in Ulan Ude, Shane and I spent a few days resting and recovering from our adventures. We took Martha to meet her new owners – team Coddiwomples – and sorted out the paperwork to enable them to drive her out of Russia and back to Europe (or so we thought… more to follow on that in our next blog post).

On our last Saturday night in Ulan Ude we met up with the Adventurists and several other teams for the final Mongol Rally finish line party. This was held at an interesting (slightly dodgy on the outside, still slightly dodgy on the inside) club in Ulan Ude, and with free beer and free vodka flowing for several hours, it was a messy night. Sensing things were getting a little out of hand, we made a reasonably early exit while we were still sober enough to find our way back.

After a few days of recovering, celebrating and saying a tearful goodbye to Martha, Shane and I were ready to start the next phase of adventure. We walked the short distance from our hostel to Ulan Ude station and boarded a train to Vladivostok.

Our train arriving at Ulan Ude station

Vladivostok is a port town on the South Eastern tip of Russia. It is over 9,000km away from Moscow, and in a time zone seven hours ahead. It is closer to Alaska than it is to Europe, and it is the last stop on the Trans-Siberian railway. Despite the fact that Shane and I had driven for a long way East to get to Ulan Ude, it still took 60 hours on the train to reach Vladivostok. It felt as though we were heading for the end of the world.

Our experience on the Trans-Siberian railway was fairly pleasant. We bought third class tickets – the price of second class being twice the price – and we were glad we did. Not because third class was so great, but because second class wasn’t much better.

We found our way to our carriage and to our living space for the next three days. Shane had the ‘bottom bunk’. This was a seat with a table during the day and could be made into a bed at night. I had the top bunk just above him. It wasn’t the easiest bunk bed to climb into and had pretty much zero headroom, so was fine for sleeping but not for reading or lounging or anything else.

The main difference between third class and the other classes was that your living and sleeping space is completely shared with everyone else. The carriage is basically an open plan dormitory. There are no partitions or barriers between you and the other fifty or so people in your section of the train. In second class you have a small compartment, shared with three other passengers, while in second class you share with just one other person. Second and first class give you more privacy and a little more luxury (the bedding looked nicer), but otherwise there was little difference between the classes.

Home sweet home!

The journey itself was fairly uneventful. We sat on the train and read, listened to music, stared out of the window, ate pots of mash potato and tried to overcome the language barrier and communicate with our fellow passengers. One evening, the man sitting opposite us drank two bottles of vodka, became a little rowdy (to the extent that Shane found his pen knife and hid it, just to be on the safe side), and then fell asleep. Shane then had to wake him up at around 2am to make sure he didn’t miss his stop, help him off the train and give him his penknife back.

After two and a half days in our confined space and three nights of broken sleep (trying to sleep on a moving, noisy train wasn’t easy at the best of times, but we also had a few snorers in close proximity), we were relieved to reach Vladivostok. We enjoyed our trip on the Trans-Siberian railway, but we enjoyed getting off the train even more.

From our (admittedly limited) research of Vladivostok, we were expecting to arrive in a dreary, drab, grey town at the end of the world. In fact, Vladivostok was entirely different. The architecture was pretty and diverse, the people were trendy and friendly, and there was a real buzz about the place. Funky coffee shops, jazz bars and pop-up shops filled the streets, and we felt even more scruffy and out of place in our travelling clothes than usual.

Interesting architecture in Vladivostok

Colourful streets

Pop-up restaurants and shops

On our first day in Vladivostok we headed straight for the sea. This wasn’t difficult – you can sea the see from pretty much everywhere in the city – and we soon found a thriving seaside area dotted with ice cream vans and candyfloss stalls. We sat for a while and looked at the ocean, marveling at the fact that we had now crossed all the way from the Atlantic to the Pacific in two months without getting on a plane. We hadn’t seen the “real” sea since Dover (not counting the landlocked Black Sea or Caspian Sea), and so we enjoyed being by the seaside and watching the waves.

Our first view of the sea since Dover

Next we explored Vladivostok Fortress, which was built right by the sea in around 1900. Wikipedia describes the fortress as “one of the most powerful maritime fortresses in the world”, and it played a significant defense role in the First World War. We saw a variety of heavy-duty weapons and explored a maze of underground tunnels. Shane was in his element. On a similar theme, we also visited an old Russian submarine. We were allowed to go inside and visit the engine rooms and see typical crew bedroom, which was a bit like visiting an adventure playground as it involved climbing through small holes in the walls and floors.

Exploring Vladivostok Fortress

Next we decided to treat ourselves to a one-hour cruise around the bridges and islands South of Vladivostok. We had decided to get a public ferry to one of the islands, but once we reached the port we discovered this is no longer possible. Our only option was to take a tour around the bridges of Vladivostok, which would also give us a view of the island and various other landmarks, including the lighthouse. Unfortunately the tour was several times more expensive than the price we were expecting to pay for the non-existent public ferry, but we decided there were added benefits to doing the little tour, and enthusiastically bought tickets for the next boat.

At first we wondered whether we had got on the right boat. To say our cruise tickets had been miss-sold would be something of an understatement. We embarked on an old tug-boat with limited facilities and a huge number of other tourists. It was standing room only, and even then it was difficult to get a look at the view. Not that it mattered, since we didn’t really go anywhere – we merely sailed out a short distance from the port, and then sailed back. We did see the “bridges” of Vladivostok (well, we saw one bridge twice), and we think we might have seen the island… we’re not sure… but we didn’t see a number of the other promised sights and certainly didn’t get any sort of “tour”.

But this was our only negative experience in Vladivostok, and was outweighed by the positive and vibrant atmosphere in the city. We enjoyed decent food, met friendly people (a rarity in Russia) and enjoyed the seaside (from land). When it was time to board our plane to South Korea, we didn’t want to leave.

Vladivostok might be a small city at the very edge of the world, but as we left our days of driving and old Mongol Rally lifestyle behind, we could feel that it marked the beginning of a new kind of adventure and a different sort of travel experience – one that we were more than ready for.

 

Lessons learned from the Mongol Rally: Is the adventure dead?

Having completed the Mongol Rally with no breakdowns, no catastrophic arguments, no serious illnesses or crazy stories (well… maybe a few crazy stories… #whereismichael), Shane and I have been thinking about whether the Mongol Rally can still legitimately claim to be the greatest adventure on the planet. Are technological developments, improvements in road conditions and the general homogenization of the world eroding the possibility of having a true adventure?

Before we set off on the Mongol Rally, Shane and I watched endless youtube videos of Mongol Rally teams dragging their cars through rivers, drinking vodka with police officers and getting trapped in no man’s land for a week and inventing their own country. Shane and I weren’t looking for anything terrible to happen to us – we didn’t want to break down, get lost, or bribe any corrupt officials – but we expected that those things would happen to us anyway. We thought the Mongol Rally would be the ultimate test: of our car, of our relationship, and of ourselves. We prepared our wills in preparation for the worst.

There were a few tough times. Spending the night in the car at a truck stop outside of Istanbul and waking up to someone trying to get inside was the most stressful moment of the Rally for me. Trying to board the unreliable Baku-Turkmenbashi ferry, completing the lengthy immigration process in Turkmenistan, finding money and petrol in Uzbekistan and driving on some pretty rough roads in a tiny inappropriate car also feature on our list of difficult moments, but these were all challenges we were expecting, and to some extent we were prepared for them.

There can be no doubt that the Mongol Rally is getting easier year-on-year. The rapid advancement of technology is making it easier than ever to circumnavigate the globe in a tiny inappropriate vehicle. For a start, the Internet is brimming with tips and suggestions from previous teams who have completed the Rally. There is also a very useful website – www.caravanistan.com – featuring very helpful, up to date information about travelling around Central Asia. Wondering whether the Turkmenistan-Uzbekistan border is open 24/7? Looking for a realistic guide on driving times through the Pamir Highway? You check that in the blink of an eye on Caravanistan.

You can also use the Internet to connect with your fellow Ralliers. This year there has been a very well used Facebook group and Whatsapp group for the Mongol Rally. These groups have allowed us to co-ordinate meeting up with other teams and share updates on the road. From these groups we found out important information, such as:

  1. You need to buy vignettes in for Slovakia, Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria, or you will probably be fined (we bought the vignettes)
  2. The most obvious and direct border between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan was closed (we went to a different border)
  3. There was a speed trap between Almaty and Semey in Kazakhstan, which resulted in a number of teams being fined large amounts of money (we were very vigilant and obeyed the speed limit at all times)
  4. When taking the Southern route in Mongolia, the map tells you to turn right around 30km after the town of Altai but you should not turn right (we didn’t turn right)
  5. Where the recommended and not-recommended mechanics were in every town and city (not that we ever needed a mechanic)

With wifi available in practically every hostel we stayed in (not to mention numerous cafes, restaurants and shopping centres), it was always easy to communicate with our fellow Ralliers and to organise to meet people on the road. A high proportion of teams also invested in sim cards in every country, so they were rarely without data and an Internet connection. As the availability of wifi, 3G and 4G increases, this is only going to make finding information and communicating with other Ralliers easier and easier as time goes on.

Technology is also improving our ability to navigate. We knew our sat nav wouldn’t work once we left Europe, so brought paper maps and a compass. We also downloaded an app called maps.me, which worked in a similar way to google maps but didn’t require an Internet connection. We rarely used the paper maps except to look at an overview of our route in Mongolia. We used maps.me constantly (in fact, we are still using it).

As a navigation device, maps.me isn’t perfect. It can’t always tell which direction you are travelling in, which made for some interesting twists and turns when we first started to use it. However, it does provide a very, very detailed map. The names of hostels, restaurants and tourist spots were often stored in the map, making it really easy to find where we needed to go, even if it wasn’t the best navigation device in the world. As time goes on, and technology like this will continue to improve, navigating will become a breeze and getting lost will be a thing of the past.

It’s not only the rise of information and communication technology that is changing the face of the Mongol Rally. While there are still plenty of potholes to hit, edges to fall off and sand to get stuck in, there is no doubt that the quality of roads across the world are improving. In Mongolia, a new road is being built right across the Southern route. Much of that road remained inaccessible to us (although the stretches where it did exist were perfect), but in a few years’ time, it seems likely that driving across Mongolia won’t be that different from driving across Europe (at least from a road quality perspective).

Added to this is the constant improvement in car technology. This year, a Nissan Leaf completed the Mongol Rally (although they didn’t go through Mongolia, which is cheating a bit). Today’s new cars will be tomorrow’s old cars, and they’ll be better than today’s old cars. They will probably drive themselves to Mongolia.

Road improvements and car improvements are signs of a wider wave of development across the world. Mongolia itself is developing at a rapid pace, as are countries in Central Asia. While today it is still difficult to find petrol in Uzbekistan, and still possible to turn up at a random stranger and ask to stay the night with a woman and her two daughters in the middle of Mongolia, it is possible to find a KFC in pretty much every city from Bishkek onwards.

The advancement of new technology, improvements in road and car quality and a the general homogenization of the world is gradually making the Mongol Rally less of a crazy adventure and more of an interesting road-trip. In some respects, this is no bad thing – seeing the world is easier, more accessible and safer than ever. There are more opportunities for more people to travel and experience a different side of life. The downside is that the ‘different side of life’ we travel to experience might not exist for that much longer.

In five, ten or twenty years’ time it will be even easier to travel the world. We will all have self-driving cars with built-in navigation systems and translation devices at the ready. Information on where to go, how to get there and what to do will be readily available without the need to search for wifi or read a guidebook. It will be easy, and it will be comfortable. The nearest McDonald’s will never be that far away. But if every country looks the same – has the same roads, the same food, the same interest in Taylor Swift – you have to wonder what you will be travelling for, exactly.

There are still plenty of adventures to be had, and plenty of exploring to be done. The proliferation of technology and homogenization of culture of the Western world is yet to reach every corner of the globe. At the same time, comparing our experience watching other teams attempt the Mongol Rally several years ago on youtube with our real life experience today, I am very grateful that Shane and I are able to take time out now to see the world, rather than waiting any longer. In some ways we’ve had the best of both worlds – we’ve had an adventure, but we’ve also had technology to help us get through it in one piece.

The adventure isn’t dead yet. There are still mountains to climb, oceans to explore and a vast universe out there to discover. But the nature of adventure travel is changing, and as it becomes easier, simpler and safer every day, there are fewer and fewer reasons not to go and see the world.

If you want to have a big adventure, now is the time to get out there and do it.

 

Lessons learned from the Mongol Rally: Top tips

So you’re wondering what to do with your next summer holiday. You love cars, and driving, and you’re looking for a crazy adventure. The next thing you know you’ve signed up to take part in the Mongol Rally – the greatest motoring adventure of all time – and now you’re wondering what you’ve let yourself in for.

Having managed to complete the Mongol Rally without a single breakdown (marriage related or car related), Shane and I would like to share our top tips for a successful Mongol Rally:

 

  1. Choose your teammates carefully

The more people in your team, the cheaper it will be. You can share the cost of the entry fee, the deposit, the fuel and all car related costs. The downside of having a big team is that the car will be squashier and heavier – you can’t bring as much with you and the car will likely weigh more, putting more stress on the suspension and potentially causing more breakdowns and issues.

It’s not just the number of people in your team you have to consider… it’s also their personalities. Shane is the perfect Mongol Rally teammate. He is very good at driving (this is very important), he is always completely calm (even in the most stressful situations), he has infinite patience and he has a sense of humor. Plus he’s pretty cute too. These are all important characteristics to look out for when selecting your ideal teammates. Avoid the opposite at all costs.

I am happy to admit that I am not as calm, patient or even quite as good at driving as Shane (but not many people can fulfill this criteria as well as he does). I am, however, good at planning. Although this isn’t a trip that can be overplanned (there are too many unknowns, such as if and when the ferry will arrive, if and when the car will break down and if and when the roads will be so terrible that you can only manage 20 kilometers per hour), some planning is still very important to make sure you get the right visas for the right dates and end up in the right places at (roughly) the right times. Plenty of teams had to rush through Mongolia or miss it out completely because they hadn’t planned how they would spend their time, while other teams had to split up (with some members purchasing expensive flights to avoid countries because they didn’t have the right visas or the right dates).

You will be trapped in a confined space with your team mates for pretty much 24 hours a day for somewhere between six and eight weeks. Choosing who to spend that time with is the most important Rally related decision you will make. Don’t do this trip with people you find annoying, people you don’t know, or people you wouldn’t or couldn’t live with. Don’t do this trip with an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend.

 

2. Make sure you know your car

Take your own car if you can. We have driven Martha for years so we know what works, and what doesn’t work. We know which noises are just “her funny ways” and which noises mean trouble. We know that she is a good car.

Most people don’t drive rubbish one litre cars from 1996. They really should, but that is another story. If you haven’t got a car that fills the Adventurist’s criteria (small and rubbish), then at least make sure you give your car a proper check before you buy it, and drive it for as long as you can before you leave the U.K. or Europe so that you can get to know it.

We know teams that bought their car off someone on the internet, and it turned out fine. We know other teams that spent a lot of money buying a rubbish car, and then had to spend a lot more money getting that car into a road worthy condition. The Mongol Rally is all about driving a rubbish car, so most people don’t put too much thought into what sort of vehicle they end up with, but if you want to make it around the world without stopping at every single mechanic you see, it makes sense to put some effort into getting to know your car before you set off.

 

3. Never leave a man or woman behind

Stay together as a team. Even if you have a big row, or if Viktorya from the ferry ticket office in Azerbaijan tells the drivers and the passengers they should take separate ferries. They shouldn’t.

Turkmenistan is probably the worst place to get separated from your teammates – you have a maximum of five days to transit across the country, the authorities are watching you at all times and some of the roads are the worst we experienced across the whole of the Rally. Shane and I were nearly split up in Baku as I was told to take the ferry and he was told to wait for the next one. Miraculously another ticket appeared at the last minute and we stayed together, but other teams weren’t as lucky, and it didn’t end well.

You’re all in this together, so stay together.

 

4. Bring lots of US dollars

In some countries (particularly Iran, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan) it is impossible to find an ATM that will accept a foreign card. You need to bring cash, and you need to bring it in US dollars.

Sterling, euro, ruble are all next to useless in some places. You need US dollars. And you might need more of them than you think given the cost of taking a car into Turkmenistan. Just bring plenty of cash.

 

5. Don’t drive at night

Driving at night wasn’t problematic in Europe or Turkey, but once the roads start to deteriorate driving at night becomes a really bad idea. Mainly because you can’t see properly (say goodbye to street lights and road markings) and are likely to hit something that will damage your car (say hello to potholes, wild animals and traffic driving on either side of the road), but also because it’s hard to find somewhere to stay (or safe to camp) when you’re driving around in the dark.

Shane and I drove slowly, and we only drove during the day. Generally we would get up early (around 5 or 6am) to make sure we could cover plenty of ground, and then drive until it got dark. Then we would find somewhere to camp and stop. In places like the Pamir Highway and Mongolia we repeated this pattern every day, and it worked pretty well.

You might get overtaken by other Ralliers going further and faster, but we tended to find they would then manage to damage their car and would end up stopped at the next town getting it fixed. It might seem like you will make more progress if you drive 24 hours a day and go as fast as you can, but you will regret it if you end up killing your car. Take it slow, enjoy the views and look after your car!

 

Lessons learned from the Mongol Rally: How much does it cost

When we decided to drive Martha to Mongolia, we had some idea of what the adventure would be like. We’d read a few blogs and watched a few youtube videos, so we knew the roads would be challenging and the views would be amazing. What we didn’t really know was how much it would all cost.

Shane and I have travelled before, but we have never tried to budget for temporarily importing our car into a bunch of different countries, and we usually have a much more detailed day-by-day plan so we know how much everything will cost before we go. On the Mongol Rally that seemed impossible – we didn’t know what the road conditions would be like, whether Martha would break down or when the Baku-Turkmenbashi ferry would ever arrive, so we couldn’t book everything in advance or nail down every penny of spending.

Now that we’ve completed the Mongol Rally and have recorded all of the money we spent over the last seven weeks, we wanted to share exactly how much it cost us to help anyone planning an adventure like this in the future.

First – a caveat – every team’s costs will be different. There are significant costs other teams incurred that we didn’t have to pay, such as:

  1. Car (we already bought Martha for £500 five years ago)
  2. Getting the car ready for the rally (Shane’s family, particularly his Uncle, and some of our sponsors helped with this so it didn’t cost us anything). We also didn’t have to spend anything fixing Martha on the road, because she never broke down!
  3. Camping equipment (we already had a tent, sleeping bags, sleeping mats etc. from previous trips and my parents bought us a camping stove and some other bits and pieces as Christmas presents)
  4. Air fares (we aren’t flying home and we didn’t have to fly anywhere to start the Rally)
  5. Police bribes / speeding fines (apart from some fake costs as the Tajikistan-Kyrgyzstan border, we didn’t spend any money bribing any police officers and didn’t get caught committing any traffic offences. This cannot be said for all other teams).

All costs below are in GBP (£), as that’s the currency we started with, and all costs are per team rather than per individual. The more people in your Mongol Rally team, the cheaper the adventure will be!

Mongol Rally entry fee: £475

This is a fee we paid to the Adventurists just to be part of the Mongol Rally. Lots of people have complained that as the Rally is completely unsupported, the Adventurists don’t really do anything and so this money is a waste. However, as well as organise some parties and give away some freebies (which I agree we could do without), the Adventurists did do some useful stuff in helping us get visas for Turkmenistan and making sure we could enter Mongolia without paying a huge (£5000+) deposit for our car. Plus, it’s worth the money to be part of the Rally and go with other teams – you could get seriously stuck on your own.

Vehicle deposit / shipping cost: £500   

Annoying as it is, you can’t leave a UK (or EU, for that matter) car in Mongolia without paying huge import taxes (£10,000+). This applies even if the car is dead, or if you try to sell it. The Adventurists moved the finish line of the Rally from Ulaanbaatar to Ulan Ude in Russia to help make it easier to ship cars back to Europe, and make you pay a deposit of £1,000 to make sure no one does anything illegal with their cars. As we have found another team to drive Martha back, we no longer have to pay for shipping, but we have agreed to split the cost of the deposit 50:50.

Travel insurance: £580

This will cover us for the next 18 months so isn’t strictly a Mongol Rally cost, but it would have been much easier (and cheaper) to get travel insurance if we weren’t driving halfway across the world, with all the risk that carries.

Visas: £945  

A large percentage of this cost went to the Russian government. Visas for Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan were also particularly expensive. For a full breakdown of visa costs, see our post on applying for visas here.

Ferries: £335

Dover to Calais was £75, Baku to Turkmenbashi was £245, plus a £15 charge for using the ramp to get onto the ferry (seriously).

Fuel: £633

Over 15,000km (10,000 miles) Martha used about 1,200 litres of fuel. At U.K. prices this would have cost £1,400. Luckily the price of petrol took a nosedive once we left Europe. In Turkmenistan a litre of petrol cost us about 6 pence!

Food and drink: £575

When we camped we usually cooked our own food. A £30 spend in Sainsbury’s at the beginning of our trip kept us going all through Europe, the Pamir Highway and Mongolia! When we stayed in cities we generally ate out and sampled the local cuisine or the less local cuisine when we got bored of kebabs. This included a couple of more expensive meals in Almaty, Kazakhstan and Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.

Accommodation: £680

We planned to wild camp most nights but after an incident with a squirrel on our very first night in Belgium we ended up chickening out a bit at the start and paid for more campsites than planned. We also always looked for accommodation with parking when staying in cities, which means we didn’t always stay in the cheapest places but never had to worry about the car or pay extra for parking.  A significant chunk of this figure went to the Grand Turkmen Hotel in Turkmenistan, where we stayed because we arrived late at night and couldn’t find anywhere else.

Car insurance: £175

This doesn’t include the cost of U.K. car insurance because we had that anyway and it was very minimal to start with. We bought insurance at every border where we thought it was compulsory to do so – this didn’t include Georgia, Uzbekistan or Kyrgyzstan.

Road tax / other tax: £145

Again, we paid charges at borders for road tax, eco tax etc. when we had to. This includes a fake charge we paid in Tajikistan to leave the country.

Vignettes and tolls: £60

At roughly 25p a time, tolls in Mongolia were not expensive. In Europe, however, we spent a significant amount of money buying vignettes (little stickers for your windscreen that you need to drive on certain roads). Most of the vignettes covered us for around 10 days of driving, but we only needed them for a matter of hours until we left the country.

Museums and entry fees: £50

We did plenty of sight seeing, but most of it was free on the road! Where we did have to pay entrance fees, it wasn’t too expensive outside of Europe.

 

To keep costs down we recommend travelling in a bigger team. Fuel, road tax and insurance can then be split more than two ways, and getting a triple / 4-bed room usually works out cheaper per-person than a 2-bed in most hostels), camping and cooking your own food as much as you can, driving your car back to Europe instead of paying the shipping cost, and not breaking your car or the law, which will save you in repair costs and fines.

 

Total: £5,150

The complete cost of the Mongol Rally was £5,150 (or £2,575 per person).  It isn’t cheap, but with the average cost of a honeymoon standing at around £4,000 for a week in the sun, it isn’t bad value for a seven-week road trip across two continents, 20 countries and memories to last a lifetime.

Cheap? No. Worth it? Absolutely.

 

Crossing the finish line

After seven weeks, 15,000km, 20 countries, at least one argument per day and no breakdowns whatsoever (not even a flat tyre), today we finally crossed the finish line in Ulan Ude, Russia and completed the Mongol Rally.

The Highlights

It’s been an incredible trip. Over the last 50 days we have:

  • Driven over the twisty turny Transfagarasan Highway in Romania
  • Survived crazy drivers and pot-hole filled roads in Georgia
  • Managed to sail on one of the most unreliable ferry crossings that ever existed from Baku to Turkmenbashi
  • Driven through sandy deserts and visited the gates of Hell in Turkmenistan
  • Found a way through Uzbekistan with no petrol
  • Experienced the fantastic scenery and terrible roads on the Pamir Highway
  • Wild camped in empty Kazakhstan
  • Raced off-road, stayed in a ger and drank fermented horse milk in Mongolia

 

 

Martha’s Helpers

Martha has made the trip look easy, but we have had a lot of help in the run-up to the Rally. A big thank you to:

  1. Shane’s family, especially Shane’s Uncle Reggie, for transforming Martha from a rusty MOT failure to a golden expedition vehicle, with new brakes, tyres, shocks, springs, bespoke roofrack, lights, battery, armour and non-rusty bits.

2. Our sponsors:

  • James Walsh Auto Electrical for paint and wipers so we could see where we were going.
  • Top Part for a rather large battery so that we could leave the lights on to put up our tent, charge items over night and still be able to start the car in the morning.
  • Madden’s car breakers who let Shane’s Dad and I explore their car graveyard and take whatever we needed off old (although not as old as Martha) Nissan Micras. They even stopped their real work and used their serious tools to get us some extra bits.
  • Travello for their generous support
  • An anonymous motor factor who doesn’t wish to be named but went above and beyond, supplying brakes, suspension and service parts for Martha.

3. All of our friends, family and former colleagues for their charity donations, gifts and moral support both leading up to and during the Rally

4. The other Rally teams we met along the way – especially teams Silicon Rally The Flying Dutchmen and Genghis Kart for sticking with us through the tough times on the Caspian Sea and in Turkmenistan, teams Fiat to Believe It and the Mongol Independent Trading Company for convoying with us through the best parts of Mongolia, and Team Kiwis Crossing for keeping us company for over a week – all the way from Barnual in Russia to the Genghis Khan statue in Ulaanbaatar.

What’s Next

Over the next few days we are staying in Ulan Ude in Russia. Our original plan was to send Martha back to Lithuania or Estonia on the train, where she would be scrapped. As she is still in tip-top shape, it seemed a bit of a waste to send her to be squashed, so instead we have given her to another team who will drive her back to Europe and possibly back to the U.K.

While we are here we will be posting a three-part blog on our lessons learned and top tips for the Mongol Rally. Topics include:

  1. How much does it cost to do the Mongol Rally? – a detailed account of our spending over the last seven weeks to show how much you should budget if you too want to drive an old rubbish car to Mongolia!
  2. Top tips – what we did right, what we did wrong and what you should do if you want to complete the Mongol Rally in one piece
  3. Is the adventure dead? – a look at whether the Mongol Rally has now become too easy with the advancement of technology, roads improving and more people than ever speaking English around the world.

Next we will take the Trans-Siberian railway from Ulan Ude to Vladivostok in East Russia and then the honeymoon continues in South Korea, Japan and around South East Asia! We will continue to post regular blog updates as we go so please do keep following as we carry on our journey around the world.

Thank you for reading so far ☺

Love Shane, Georgia and Martha

 

Making it to Mongolia

Mongolia has been a country on our “must visit” list for as long as we can remember. For years we have hankered after views of vast open landscapes, soaring eagles and for a taste of the nomadic way of life. Months of preparation, six weeks of driving and 14,000 kilometres led us to this point. Finally, it was time to enter Mongolia.

Or was it? As we queued up at passport control at the Mongolian border crossing, it seemed there was a problem with our visas. We still aren’t sure exactly what sort of problem, but it had something to do with the dates (which we knew were fine). After a lot of toing and froing (and waiting – mostly waiting), our passports and visas were returned to us… with the date crossed out, and a new date written in its place.

This was a bit weird, but didn’t matter to us. What did matter was the delay this had caused. It was 5pm and the border was closing for the day. We had limited time to get through the customs process if we wanted to avoid a night in the border compound and to try to catch up with our Kiwi friends. Luckily there was no one else around, and the border officials were in just as much of a hurry to get us processed and out of there as we were to get into Mongolia.

Except, at the final hurdle, there was a problem with the computer. We couldn’t be processed. I was told that we would have to come back tomorrow.

“We can’t come back tomorrow”, I replied. It wasn’t a lie. We couldn’t leave and go back to Russia – we had been stamped out. We would have to wait exactly where we were, even if that meant waiting until the following morning. I stood outside the customs office and waited. And waited. And waited. And looked a bit sad.

Eventually, the border officials seemed to a) realise we weren’t going to leave (there was nowhere we could go), and b) feel a bit sorry for us. They started making some phone calls, and actually started to try and get the computers to work. All of a sudden, the computer worked again and the final bit of the bureaucracy jigsaw puzzle could be completed. We were in.

We found the Kiwi team waiting for us just on the other side of the border compound. Thankfully they hadn’t given up hoping that we would make it through before the end of the day, and we all drove together on the first section of bad road from the border crossing to the small town of Tsagaannuur.

As soon as we pulled into town, we met a local man on a motorbike. He wanted us to stay in his hotel for the night, and promised that for just $5 per person we could enjoy a comfortable night’s stay and a delicious yak-based meal. It sounded too good to be true, and in some ways, it was.

The hotel was his family’s house. There was one room where we could all sleep on the floor. The yak meal was… lacking in yak meat. But, before we could eat and rest, the men were needed to help with a little job.

Another Mongol Rally car had got stuck between the town and the border, somewhere off road. Shane, Mike and Nick went off on a local truck to perform a rescue operation. The truck didn’t have enough petrol, so they stopped to get petrol. Then the truck over heated, so they stopped by a lake to put water in it. Then, they were asked to lift the car onto the truck, but even though they are all very, very strong, this was impossible. Instead they found a way of pushing the car onto a bank, and then onto the truck. And then the truck broke down again. By the time they returned it was very dark, very cold and they were glad of the warm stove back at our “hotel”.

Rescuing and fixing the stuck Mongol Rally car

 

A night of vodka drinking and musical instrument playing ensued, and then we all fell sound asleep.

Music time!

Over the next two days we drove around 700km, sometimes on dirt and gravel tracks, and sometimes on smooth tarmac. We passed through the towns of Olgii, Khovd and Altai, and camped by some yurts and then in the wild Mongolian desert, where we were joined by team Fiat to Believe it and team Mongolia Independent Trading Co.

Crowding around the campfire in the middle of the Mongolian wilderness

The next day was the big day. We knew that from Altai to the next big town of Bayankhongor there were no roads. For 270km we would have to drive Martha off-road. We had heard rumours from other teams that this was the worst stretch of the entire Mongol Rally. It had claimed the lives of many perfectly healthy and happy cars. Martha had been perfect so far, but we knew that she could die at any time. We resolved to stick together as a convoy of four cars, and set off on what we assumed would be the hardest, scariest and most adventurous part of our whole journey.

What we found was altogether quite different. Shane did the majority of the off-road driving, and he loved it. Martha also loved it. Even I loved it. We had been planning to go very slowly, but quickly discovered there was no need. Martha loved driving as fast as she could. We sprinted with the other cars. We (deliberately) slid and skidded around. We reached speeds of 100km per hour on the dusty tracks. This wasn’t the worst road of the rally at all – in fact, it was the best road!

The fun we were having was tempered by our encounters with other teams. We met two teams convoying together who seemed to be having big problems (both car related and team dynamic related). Then we met a team parked in a very small town who’s engine had collapsed and was irreparable. Just like Martha, their car had been perfect every step of the way so far. Just like us, they hadn’t even had a flat tyre. But now, they had hit a bump, and their car was completely dead. They were having to arrange a tow truck to take them to Ulaanbaatar at a cost of $600, and then would need to make other arrangements to get the car out of Mongolia. It was a stark and sad reminder that things could go very badly wrong at anytime.

But Martha continued to drive happily through Mongolia. It felt like she was made for off-road racing. She had reached her goal, and so had we.

As darkness fell, we pulled off the road with the three other teams and camped in the Mongolian desert again. As Mongolia is the least densely populated country in the world, we didn’t have to try too hard to find a spare bit of space!

The next morning we had a decision to make: try and get to Ulaanbaatar as quickly as possible, or detour for a bit more off-road fun and some sight seeing. Team Fiat to Believe it had a rapidly expiring visa so had to head straight to Ulaanbaatar, but the rest of us opted for a slower pace and some more exploring.

Our first stop was a very strange horse shrine just off the main road. There were lots of statues of horses and horse skulls, but no explanation. We still have no idea what it was all about, but it made for an interesting stop.

Mystery horse shrine

Next we ventured off-road looking for some hot springs. After taking a few different tracks, stopping to ask for directions at a village (where Shane did a hilarious mime of bathing in a hot spring), and driving back on ourselves again, we found a strange holiday resort with a small pool of hot water. As this was day six without a shower for all of us, it didn’t take much time or much persuading for us to hop out of our dirty clothes and into the warm water.

All was well. Then we noticed that Jamie from the Independent Mongolian Trading Co. had disappeared. When he returned, it was with an interesting story. Some nearby locals had insisted he visit their house to see their dead Marmot, drink their horse’s milk and watch Titanic (unfortunately, not in English). Thankfully, we didn’t miss out, as the same locals followed him back to the pool and insisted we all drink the horse milk and come to visit the dead Marmot when we were finished in the hot spring. It was a fun afternoon.

After a bit more driving, we pulled over near some yurts in search of a place to stay. One woman invited us to stay in her yurt with her and her two daughters for a small fee, and made us a very large meal of goat, noodles and potato. As we ate and warmed ourselves by the fire, she then proceeded to tell us the story (several times) of how her eldest daughter was conceived.

Despite the language barrier, her detailed mimes gave us a good idea of what had happened. Approximately nine years and nine months ago, a man called Michael had come to visit, stayed with her for two nights, got her pregnant, and then flew back to Germany and left her. He may also have visited Paris. We don’t know whether Michael is aware he has a daughter in the middle of Mongolia, but if anyone knows a Michael (probably from Germany), who visited Mongolia nine years and nine months ago, there is an angry woman looking for him.

Bedtime in the yurt

 

Our room for the night

On our sixth day in Mongolia, we finally made it to the capital – Ulaanbaatar. Driving into a big city after days of empty desert was a surreal experience. Almost half of all the people who live in Mongolia live in Ulaanbaatar, and as the traffic was so bad it took us about half an hour to drive about 500 metres in the city centre, we could tell.

It didn’t take long for us to find the nearest Irish pub where we met with another Mongol Rally team, and some of us indulged in a few celebratory beverages. This quickly descended into chaos, and by the next morning there were three lost phones, a lost passport and a lost wallet. Thankfully, Shane and I managed to keep hold of all of our belongings.

We decided to stay for a few days in Ulaanbaatar. We wanted a rest in a real bed, a hot shower and to see some of the sights.

First on the list was the Central Museum of Mongolian Dinosaurs. Mongolia was a hotspot for dinosaurs back in dino-times, and it was great to see the bones of some really weird dinosaurs that we have never seen before.

Next we went to visit a giant statue of Genghis Khan. Despite the fact that he is responsible for an estimated 40 million deaths, Genghis Khan is considered to be a national hero in Mongolia for uniting the Mongolian nomadic tribes and founding the Mongol Empire. It was an interesting but quiet day at the statue: the complex was built with thousands of daily visitors in mind, but we saw only a handful of people.

Giant statue of Genghis Khan

At the Genghis Khan statue we waved goodbye to team Kiwis Crossing. After a week of convoying together through Mongolia, the Kiwis were heading straight up to Ulan Ude to officially complete the rally, while we planned to stay in Ulaanbaatar for a little longer.

As we come towards the end of our time in Mongolia, Shane and I have mixed emotions. We are very relieved that Martha has made it this far and didn’t die in the middle of the Mongolian wilderness. We have had a great experience driving through the country and it has been as impressive and interesting as we could have hoped for. We can’t believe it’s nearly time to say goodbye to Mongolia, goodbye to the Mongol Rally and goodbye to Martha. In just a few more days we will drive back into Russia and, all being well, we will cross the final finish line.

 

The empty plains of Kazakhstan and an encounter with some Kiwis

The drive from Osh to Bishkek in Northern Kyrgyzstan took longer than planned. There were pretty green mountains, turquoise rivers, yurts, some rain (the first drops we had seen since leaving the UK!), and then there was the “tunnel of death”.

Turquoise river and mountain views in Kyrgyzstan

Mountain road leading down from the “tunnel of death” and our first rain drops of the rally

The Too-Ashuu tunnel (or the “tunnel of death”) has a reputation for extremely poor ventilation. When combined with its 2.6km length and lower levels of oxygen (it’s up a 3,000m high mountain), this makes for a nasty mix. In 2001 several people died in the tunnel when a broken down car caused a tail back flooding the tunnel with carbon monoxide. Thankfully Shane kept this nugget of information to himself until we had safely made it out the other side, so I had no idea we were driving through a death trap.

We arrived in Bishkek after 14 hours of driving. The sun was just starting to set as we drove into the bustling city. Fortunately I had pre-booked us a hostel. Unfortunately we couldn’t find it. After two extra hours of driving around in the dark, we gave up. We spotted a sign for a hotel and knocked on the door. Thankfully they had a room for us, and parking for Martha, so we checked in and grabbed something to eat at the local diner. Fully fed and ready for bed, we both slept like babies.

The next day we pressed on to Almaty in Kazakhstan for some much needed rest and a bit of sight seeing. Almaty felt like a world away from our experience of Central Asia so far. The streets were covered with coffee shops. We could use credit cards to pay for things. Wifi was plentiful. They even had McDonalds.

We made full use of the available amenities, stocking up on cash, fuel and food, and had a wander around the Central Park and the colourful Ascension Cathedral. We also walked around the “Green Bazaar” (it was indeed green), took a trip on the very quiet, clean and efficient metro and visited the Independence Monument.

Ascension Cathedral, Almaty, Kazakhstan

Spices for sale at the Green Bazaar, Almaty, Kazakhstan

Almaty was a very laid back, leafy city. It felt like a different planet to the wild Pamir landscape of Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, and to the frenetic cities and desert of Uzbekistan. It was also completely different to the version of Kazakhstan portrayed in the film ‘Borat’, which probably shouldn’t come as a surprise. The rest of Kazakhstan, however, was a bit different.

It took us three days of driving through Kazakhstan to reach Barnaul in Russia, and over those three days we saw pretty much nothing.

Not because we weren’t looking, but because it turns out that most of Kazakhstan is very flat and very empty. We did spot some golden eagles, which was exciting, but other than that we looked at the same view for three days, and camped in different (but very similar) spots on the side of the road. Kazakhstan is huge; it is the ninth largest country in the world, but has a population of just 17.8 million people, and the landscape is unchanging for hundreds of miles.

One of our campsites in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Kazakhstan

 

This is what most of Kazakhstan looks like

The only place of note that we passed through on our journey was a town called Semey, which had a sad story. In 1949 the Soviet atomic bomb programme selected a site on the steppe 150km west of the city as the location for its weapons testing. The Soviet Union carried out hundreds of nuclear tests for many years, and the results have not been good.  The people of Semey suffer from high rates of cancer and birth defects. You can even visit the anatomical museum in Semey, which apparently has a gruesome collection of babies and embryos with horrible deformities caused by the nuclear radiation. We didn’t pay the weird babies a visit – the museum was closed by the time we arrived and Shane was feeling a little squeamish about such a place anyway.

Despite all of this, Semey seemed to be a lively city in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Maybe we were just pleased to see something other than the empty plains of Kazakhstan for a change, but we had a nice time.

After another night camping in the middle of nowhere, we crossed the border into Russia and drove up to Barnaul in South Western Siberia. That evening we met up with a four-person strong Mongol Rally team called Kiwis Crossing (made up of Taygen, Debbie, Mike and Nick, and their Toyota Yaris nicknamed ‘Knobby’ after one of their sponsors), and made plans to drive together to the Mongolian border and beyond.

As we drove from Barnaul to the Mongolian border, the scenery became very dramatic. We were driving through the Altai region of Siberia, and the area was covered with forests, mountains, clouds and lakes. The region is famous for activities and sports such as white water rafting, and we could see why.

Stopping for a picnic with our new friends from team Kiwis Crossing

Beautiful scenery in the Altai region, Siberia

Martha soaking up the mountain views

After one night camping with the Kiwis on top of a hill, we made it to the border crossing with Mongolia.

As we approached the border, we were feeling apprehensive. We had heard the roads in Mongolia were worse than anything we had experienced on the rally so far. We knew there were large sections of the country we needed to drive through where there were no roads at all. We heard that previously perfect rally cars had been destroyed in Mongolia.

We made a plan to stay with our new Kiwi friends all the way to Ulaanbaatar on the other side of the country. It was going to take us a week to get through Mongolia, and we expected this week to be the most challenging of all.

 

 

The Pamir Highway

The Pamir Highway is an excellent challenge for a large four-wheel drive vehicle. The 1,200km road starts in Dushanbe, Tajikistan, crosses the Pamir Mountains, and ends in Osh, Kyrgyzstan. It is known as the “roof of the world”, as it reaches dizzy heights of 4,700 metres, and it is also known for its challenging road conditions, which range from OK to disaster. It’s the ultimate road trip.

When we arrived in Dushanbe, the owner of our hostel asked whether we were planning to visit the Pamir Highway. The route is a major draw for tourists, so he wasn’t surprised when he said yes. Then he asked us how we were going to get there. We looked confused. We pointed at Martha and explained that she was our car, and we were going to drive her all the way. Now he looked confused, and then alarmed. “No, no, no!” he said. “This car cannot do the Pamir Highway!”

Challenge accepted.

—-

DAY ONE

Martha was sounding a little unhappy because of the dodgy Uzbekistan fuel. Now that we had made it to Tajikistan, we filled her with decent quality petrol and some octane booster. It seemed to do the trick.

Our first day on the Pamir Highway was smooth and simple. We drove from Dushanbe to Kulob, and eventually we reached the river Panj, which marks the border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. We were in a valley, which was very beautiful, and we were just a stone’s throw away from Afghanistan. We could see Afghan villages, roads and people right up close.

Martha getting close to Afghanistan

 

An Afghan village across the river

It was fascinating, but being so close to the border also presented a couple of issues. Two other Mongol Rally teams who had driven this route a few days before us had run into problems. One team had tried to camp next to the border (the road goes so close that you can’t really camp anywhere else), and had been picked up by the Tajik army in the middle of the night and taken to sleep in one of their bases. Another team had accidentally taken a wrong turn and had ended up in a Taliban controlled area. Luckily they were OK, but they’d had to bribe some Tajik military officers to get them out (and not arrest them).

Having spent time in military and police compounds in Pakistan several years ago, I had no wish to repeat the experience, so we tried to find somewhere to camp that would be safe and wouldn’t involve any late night army or Taliban adventures. As the sun was starting to set we arrived at a small village. It was close to the Afghanistan border, but shielded by trees and, as people were happily living their everyday lives there, we thought it was probably safe.

We asked whether it would be OK to put up our tent and camp in the village, and a young man who spoke English said it would be fine, and gave us a tour of the local area. (Here’s the river, here’s Afghanistan, here’s some tea and some fruit). We also had tea with an older man who seemed to own a lot of the land, and had made lots of money taking photos of the Tajik army. We looked at the pictures for a long time, and talked about religion and politics (I think he wanted to know what we made of Donald Trump). He also let Shane have a go with his catapult. Eventually we crawled into our tent for a sweaty night’s sleep.

Our camping spot

 

DAY TWO

The next day we were hoping to get to the next big town – Khorog – around 300km away. We started early and made good progress. Before lunchtime we reached a smaller town and saw another Mongol Rally team had stopped. We stopped too to check they were OK, and they were not OK. They had two cars – a Suzuki Jimney which looked like a serious expedition vehicle (not really in the spirit of the Mongol Rally but great for the Pamir Highway), and a VW Campervan. The VW Campervan had suffered some serious gearbox related damage and they were stuck.

We gave them one of our ratchet straps to help them fix their gearbox issue, but there wasn’t much more we could do. Martha was too small to tow the campervan and they were a big team so we couldn’t fit them in the car. They were planning to go all the way back to Dushanbe.

As the day continued, the roads started to deteriorate. We had to slow down. Our average speed dropped to about 10 km/hour, and stayed that way. At this rate it would take us about two weeks to finish the Pamir Highway, and we didn’t have two weeks. We started to worry that maybe Martha couldn’t cope with the bad roads after all.

It was clear that we weren’t going to make it to Khorog that day. As it started to get dark, we realized we had driven only 180km, despite starting our day at 6am. We looked for somewhere to camp, but we still hadn’t left the Afghanistan border so needed to be careful. We stopped in a village and asked around. A nice lady let us park Martha in her driveway, and another nice lady let us camp in her garden close (but not too close) to her cows.

All was well, until Shane woke me up in the middle of the night. He had realized that everything inside the tent was wet. Not just a little damp, but completely soaking. We got out of the tent and noticed that what we had thought was a good spot was actually in the middle of a sort of bog. The snow on the mountains around the valley had melted, so what had been a small stream was now a big marsh. The tent had flooded. We moved the tent to higher ground, but the swimming pool inside the tent didn’t disappear. It wasn’t the best night’s sleep we’ve ever had.

 

DAY THREE

We were quite happy to leave our swimming pool of a tent as early as possible the next day. We continued plodding along the terrible road as fast as we could (not very fast), and it wasn’t long before we encountered an interesting sight. There was a small pedestrian bridge linking Tajikistan to Afghanistan, and on the Tajik side of the bridge was a small penned area, with a significant number of police officers and military personnel. This turned out to be a weekly market where citizens from Afghanistan and Tajikistan were allowed to come together to trade without the stamping of passports or the purchasing of visas.

We carried on our way, and by lunchtime we had reached Khorog. In the afternoon we finally left the Afghanistan border behind us and started to climb higher into the mountains. The road started to improve, the temperature dropped, and the landscape started to open up around us.

Mountain views

It was so open that we struggled to find somewhere secluded enough to set up camp. We spotted two cyclists on the road and asked them what their plans were. They were going to Jelandy, about 8km away, where they said it was possible to get a hot shower. We thought we might as well follow them.

It was true: there was a place in Jelandy where you could get a hot shower. But this was no hostel or hotel, and there were no other tourists staying there. This was Sarez Sanitarium.

Nevertheless, it was comfortable enough. For $4 per person we were given two beds, free use of the sulphuric hot spring where we could (and did) bathe, free private parking and free use of the unattractive outside squat toilet. It was all a bit weird, but we had a bog-free night’s sleep.

 

DAY FOUR

As we climbed higher and higher into the mountains, the road started to disappear again, but suddenly it didn’t matter any more. The views were spectacular – we saw snow capped mountains, a wide and open plateau, and our first yak! Martha drove further and further uphill, eventually making it all the way up the highest mountain pass – 4,700 metres above sea level.

Snow capped mountain scenery

Martha reaches the high point of the Pamir Highway – 4,700 metres!

Around lunchtime we stopped in the next town – Murghab. It was incredibly isolated, and looked a little bleak. We still had a nice time visiting the town’s container market (a market where all the stalls have been made out of container ships), where Shane managed to buy an expensive banana (we have no idea how it can possibly have made it to Murghab), and had shashlyk and bread for lunch in a little shack café. If Murghab looked like a slightly depressing place to live in the summer, we could only imagine what it must be like in winter, when the temperature plumments to -40°C.

A “shipping container” market in Murghab

In the afternoon we continued to drive through spectacular scenery, and eventually we reached Lake Karakol – a bright blue lake sitting beneath the mountains. We had been hoping to camp by the lake but found another bleak looking village there, so thought we had better ask about the best place to set up our tent.

Lake Karakol

We were quickly directed to a couple who spoke some English, and they were happy to let us camp in their yard and use their facilities, and didn’t want any money at all. As we set up our tent, we noticed it was getting colder and colder. We used our camping stove to cook some spaghetti, but a combination of the lower boiling point of water at higher altitude and the general cold temperature and wind meant that the pasta was cold straight away. We quickly wrapped up warm and huddled into our tent.

 

DAY FIVE

Our next stop was Osh – the end point of the Pamir Highway. On the way we had to cross the border from Tajikistan to Kyrgyzstan, which proved to be an interesting experience.

Leaving Tajikistan was painful. Not only were the roads to the border falling apart (at one point Martha had to drive UP a waterfall), but it turned out to be our first experience with corrupt officials.

To leave the country, we had to visit four different people for checks and stamps. Each man sat in his own little hut, so we had to navigate our way around the various buildings. The man in the first hut asked us for our “disinfection” certificate for the car. We had no such thing. Had we missed something? Apparently so… the man showed us various other disinfection certificates and kept demanding to see ours. Eventually he said he would let us off if we paid him 80 somoni (about $9). We argued about it for a while, and Shane asked him to give us a receipt (well, to sign his name on a bit of paper), which he eventually did, so we paid up.

The second hut also proved interesting. This was customs. The man inside asked for our customs form, which we happily handed over. He then asked us for $10. “Why?” we kept asking. “What for?”. He couldn’t explain, and eventually he gave up and let us go. At this point we were convinced that something was amiss. These weren’t real charges – it was just the border officers trying to make some extra money out of us.

The story in the third hut was familiar. We needed three pieces of paper for the car, and we didn’t have them. Apparently we were supposed to register in Murghab, pay some money, and get this paperwork. We explained that we had registered in Murghab (you can’t avoid registering just about everywhere as there are constant police stops where you are registered), but we hadn’t been given any paperwork. This man was more aggressive than the others, and he demanded 200 somoni (about $25) to “let us off” and allow us to exit Tajikistan. By this time, we were convinced we were being scammed, so we dug our heels in. Shane wrote out a hand written receipt with the car registration number, the money and the border crossing, but the guy just scribbled it out and got very defensive. He wasn’t going to let us leave, so Shane threatened to put up the tent and sleep outside until we were allowed through. The man didn’t like that. We went backwards and forwards with arguments, and eventually the man stormed off in a strop.

Time was ticking on and we had a long journey ahead of us. We couldn’t get out without this man letting us through the gate, and it was clear he wasn’t budging on his terms. When he came back, it was with a new offer – for 88 somoni ($10) we could be free of Tajikistan. We argued a bit more, but eventually we gave in and handed over the money.

In case you are wondering, we did some research later about whether we were in the wrong. Perhaps we should have had a disinfection certificate. Perhaps there was a $10 customs charge. Perhaps we should have obtained three pieces of paperwork in Murghab for the car. Well, no. It turns out none of these fees were based in any kind of reality. We had effectively been conned.  Lesson learned for next time.

Thankfully our experience entering Kyrgyzstan was much more pleasant. Apart from a short wait to clear customs (actually waiting for the electricity to come back on), everything went smoothly and the border officers were all friendly and honest.

Kyrgyzstan itself was also very pleasant. The roads were in better condition, the landscape was much greener, and we soon found ourselves in Osh, which marked the end of the Pamir Highway. In Osh we had a lovely time exploring Central Asia’s largest bazaar and the world’s only three storey yurt.

The biggest bazaar in Central Asia

The world’s only three storey yurt

Green and yurt-filled Kyrgyzstan

—-

After five long days, some spectacular mountain views, some interesting sleeping experiences and some truly atrocious roads, we had made it to the end of the Pamir Highway. The scenery, the hospitality and the sense of adventure we experienced made this one of the highlights of the Mongol Rally so far. Martha drove on mountain roads, bad roads, sandy roads, no roads and even through rivers and waterfalls. She had made it to 4,700 metres above sea level, and is still in the same condition she was in when we left the U.K.

Mission accomplished. Who needs a massive four-wheel drive car when you have a gold Nissan Micra?!