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Making it to Mongolia

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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 Pamir Highway

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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

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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?!

The taste of freedom

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We have now been on the road for five days. We’ve covered 3,000 kilometres and have reached the Black Sea at the edge of Europe. We’ve started to adjust to living out of our car, sleeping in our tent, changing currencies and time zones and stopping for petrol multiple times a day. We’ve also started to enjoy our newfound sense of freedom.

From the Dover-Calais ferry, we drove East (common theme) through France to reach a lake in South East Belgium where I’d researched a potential wild camping spot. We had planned to wild camp most nights during the rally – both to save money and to give ourselves maximum freedom and flexibility, but as we pulled off a quiet road through even quieter farmland to find the recommended spot, Shane started to have reservations about the remote location.

By this point it was late at night. It was dark. We were pretty exhausted and hadn’t eaten for several hours. So, of course, we had a little argument about what to do. Shane wanted to try and find a more established campground – we were down a dead end and he thought that if an axe murderer came along we wouldn’t be able to escape. I thought it was fine and wanted to go to sleep. Unsurprisingly, I won, and we snuggled down for the night.

All was well, until I heard a noise in the night. I woke Shane up, panicking that the axe murderer had come for us. Shane poked around the tent, while I lay in my sleeping bag, wondering how we were going to get to Mongolia when we couldn’t survive a night in Belgium. Shane thought the noise was probably a squirrel. We have stayed in proper campsites every night since.

The scene of the squirrel attack: wild camping in Belgium

Day two involved a fairly leisurely drive to the German town of Heidelberg – a very pretty area with an impressive looking castle and historic bridge. Shane and I spent some time on the “philosopher’s walk”; some scenic paths near the university which various philosophers, poets and academics used to wander to clear their heads, develop their ideas and enjoy views of the river and town. So Shane and I spent the afternoon following in their footsteps, walking the paths and trying to achieve inner peace after our first full-on couple of days.

Views of Heidelberg from the philosopher’s walk

On day three we headed to Prague to meet up with our fellow Mongol Rally teams at the Mongol Rally Czech Out party. We arrived early and headed into the city for a stroll around the old town and an ice cream, before returning for a couple of drinks, catching up with some of the other teams, and watching a feature film about a man who hitch hiked his way to Mongolia with various teams on the Mongol Rally in 2007. It was a great film, but everything that could go wrong did go wrong, and it reminded us that while all has been plain sailing so far, we have a long way to go and a number of potential disasters await us.

 

Exploring Prague

John Lennon wall

Mongol Rally meet up: the Czech Out party in Prague

We were up early on day four to drive over 1,000km through the Czech Republic, Slovakia and Hungary and into Romania. We left at 6am, and finally stopped driving at 10pm. It was a long day on the road. And yet, both Shane and I were quite content – our only responsibilities were to keep Martha and ourselves safe, fed, and watered, and to keep making progress in an Easterly direction. We began to taste freedom.

Today is day five, and it has been the best day yet. After another early start, we took Martha on her favourite road ever – the twisty, turny, dramatic Transfagarasan Highway. Around 100km of twists and turns, up hill and down hill again. She loved it, although her brakes did get a little hot. We loved it too – we enjoyed the beautiful mountains, forest, rivers and waterfalls, and we met a number of other rally teams at various points along the way (including one Portugese / Irish team who had some serious oil related problems, and a team of Kiwis who had only made it 50km out of Goodwood before breaking down and needing to replace their alternator).

The twisty, turny Transfagarasan Highway

Shane helping to fix another Micra

Georgia exploring the mountains

Martha loving it

We then carried on the road through a busy Bucharest (where I failed to understand the rules of pedestrian corssings) and on to Vama Veche at the edge of Romania where we are currently relaxing by the beach at the final Mongol Rally meet-up. Tomorrow we leave Romania for Bulgaria and, hopefully, Turkey. So far, we are having a great time. Martha is running happily (apart from a small issue with her window getting stuck), our fellow ralliers are friendly and we are making good progress. Most importantly, now that all the jobs are done and we are on the road, we are finally free!

Beach party in Vama Veche, Romania

 

Ready, steady, go!

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On Saturday 15th July, Shane and I arrived at Goodwood Motor Circuit for the launch of the 2017 Mongol Rally.

After parking Martha amongst her friends and putting up our tent, we were joined by some friends of our own– Rhiannon, Hannah and Catherine – who had travelled far and wide to see us off. We took them to see a few of the other cars, gave them one last chance to write on Martha and then had a drink and something to eat before they headed back and we started to mingle with some of our fellow teams.

Hannah, Catherine, Georgia and Rhiannon with Martha

The Adventurists put on a whole evening of organised fun – from Mongolian wrestling to sword fighting to a late night dance party, there was plenty to see and do, and no shortage of other people who were just as crazy as us and planning to drive their cars all the way to Mongolia. We even met a couple of people planning to drive the whole way to Mongolia on a motorbike. To me, this seemed mad. They would have no spacious back seat to store ridiculous amounts of super noodles (or have a nap in), no protection from the elements and no one else to take over the driving when they’ve just had enough. They are very, very brave. Or very, very stupid. It makes doing the Mongol Rally in a Micra look like a trip to a theme park.

Mongolian wrestling

 

Sword fighting

 

Some messages from our fellow Mongol Rally teams!

 

Last kiss before we argue so much we hate each other

 

On Sunday morning, Shane and I woke up in our little tent (our home for the next eight weeks), and had our first argument, as Shane insisted we get up and pack the tent and sleeping bags up at 7am, even though there was nothing to do and nowhere to go for at least another hour or two. Sure enough, at 7.15, we were sitting in the car with nothing to do and nowhere to go, and I was wishing I’d had an extra snooze.

Eventually, it was time to get moving from the campsite to the race track. We had time to stop for a quick picture with the other Irish teams taking part in the rally, which also gave us a good opportunity to test out the roof rack (it held Shane and I and our belongings without complaint), and then it was time for a whole group photo and the Mongol rally prizes.

All the Irish Mongol Rally teams!

 

There were three main prizes:

  • “Spirit of the rally”, given to the team who most fully embraced the spirit of the Mongol Rally by taking the smallest, most rubbish car, which was most likely to break down. This went to two teams who were driving Morris Minors (one 1964 and one 1970). They had already broken down four times just trying to reach Goodwood.
  • “Best pimped car”, given to the team who made their car look the most ridiculous, or most interesting. This went to a team who had covered their car entirely in fur.

 

  • The third prize was more of a forefeit than a prize. One team had brought a 1.6 liter vehicle (which is very much against the rules – the car is meant to be 1 liter or less). As punishment, they were publicly shamed and given a heavy exercise bike which they now have to put on their roof and bring all the way to Mongolia.

Next, we lined up row by row and completed a lap of the race track , and then we were on our way! The Mongol Rally has officially started!

Rally cars ready for a lap around the track

 

Our first stop was Dover. Our only problem was that there was a major accident on the M25, which we tried to avoid by going cross-country around the South Downs. The scenery was beautiful, but it took us an hour longer than planned and we got stuck behind numerous slow moving vehicles, including a steam train. We didn’t get to Dover until 3.30, and had to wait until 4.40 for the next ferry. Our plan to do another three hours of driving after reaching Calais was looking increasingly ambitious, and our Mongol Rally whatsapp group was pinging with news from other teams who had reached Amsterdam, Brugges and even Germany, while we were still yet to leave the UK.

But, better late than never, we made it on to the ferry and found plenty of other teams going at much the same rate. We also heard that there had been some teams who were not doing so well, and had broken down between Goodwood and Dover.

Car broken down between Goodwood and Dover

As we sail away from the cliffs of Dover, this will be our last blog from the U.K. Our plan is to spend the next two days meandering away across France, Belgium and Germany before our next big stop: Prague.

White cliffs of Dover

The Mongol Rally by numbers

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There are a lot of things we don’t know about the adventure we are about to go on. How many other teams will be leaving the UK with us? How many of them will reach the finish line? What will they be like? What cars will they be driving? Is it really dangerous? Where exactly is the finish line?

It might seem a bit careless to set off on such a big trip without knowing a bit more about what we are getting ourselves into, but in the spirit of adventure we are trying not to overplan and to ‘go with the flow’. This is something Shane is very good at and something I’m not so good at.

In keeping with the idea that the Mongol Rally is all about jumping off a cliff into the unknown, the Adventurists haven’t exactly overloaded us with information, but they have given us some interesting stats from previous rallies. Check out this infographic about the teams who took part in 2015:

So how does our team compare, and what are we letting ourselves in for?

We are the ‘average’ age - in 2012, the oldest rallier was 74, the youngest was 18 and the average age of all ralliers was 30. We don't know what the average age will be this year, but at 27 and 33 (soon to be 34!), Shane and I also average out at 30 years of age, so we shouldn't find it too challenging to make some friends.

We have a woman in the team (OMG) – seriously, the vast majority of Mongol Rally participants (9 out of 10) are men. There are some other women out there, but girl power is seriously lacking.

We have an ‘average’ car – or do we? The Nissan Micra is the rallier favourite. This may seem quite strange, as a Nissan Micra is obviously way too small and completely impractical for driving in the desert. But out of all the 1 litre cars you could choose to drive to Mongolia, they are one of the most reliable makes out there, and easy and cheap to fix along the way. Several ralliers deliberately avoid driving to Mongolia in a Micra, because it’s too ‘easy’ or ‘mainstream’. Shane and I might have a ‘mainstream’ car, but we love her. Also, at 21 years of age, Martha is older than most. She is also gold. It’s hard to see how something so old, so gold, and with so much character could ever be described as ‘average’.

We are taking it very slowly – On an average 'drive day' we are hoping to drive for around 8 hours and cover about 500km. Most days will be drive days, but we are planning to take a few days off along the way to see the sights, fix Martha when she inevitably breaks down and to sort out our Turkmenistan visas. We also know there will be other days when we won't move very far becuse we won't have much choice – days waiting at borders, or days waiting for the ferry to take us over the Caspian sea. Factoring in the deliberate and the not-so-deliberate days off, we think it will take us about eight weeks to get to the finish line. Even with our fairly intense driving schedule and limited stopping time, we will probably be one of the last teams to get to the end. This is partly because we've chosen a long route which involves complex borders, the Caspian sea and a lack of good quality roads, but it's also partly because some of the other teams are happy to drive a lot further each day, and spend more days driving and less days enjoying. In 2015, one team completed the entire rally and made it to Mongolia in FIVE DAYS. They drove for 24 hours a day. We may be one of the last teams to reach the finish line, but hopefully we will have a nice time and get to see some of the countries we're driving through.

This could end in divorce – in 2012, there were two marriages created on the Mongol Rally. It’s amazing and lovely that romance was able to blossom in such harsh conditions. But one marriage was also ‘uncreated’. In 2015, 19 teams ended up splitting for various reasons along the way. Shane and I have travelled together before. We’ve camped together, we’ve driven long distances together, we’ve survived extreme temperatures, extreme tiredness and not showering for days at a time. We’re confident we can make it through in one piece and that we’ll still love each other at the end… but team ‘marriage uncreated’ probably thought the same thing.

This could also end in death – in 2010 a British man died participating in the Mongol Rally. He was killed in a car crash in Iran. Since then several other participants have been seriously injured – some through car related accidents, others through alcohol related accidents. In 2015, eight people ended up in hospital. Cars flipped over. Cars went on fire. While car crashes can occur anywhere at any time, the odds of serious injury or death are greatly increased when you’re driving on the wrong side of the road, in a car which shouldn't really be on the road, in different countries where the rules keep changing, and other people don't necessarily keep to them anyway. Fortunately for me, I’m going with Shane, and he drives like a tortoise. Unfortunately for both of us, we’re also going with me, and I don’t.

Having read through those numbers and written this post, I’m starting to see why the Adventurists might be cautious about how much information they share. Maybe being kept in the dark about what we’re letting ourselves in for would have been better after all.

 

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