Let's Get Ready to Mongol

Nearly finished, waking up knowing that we could reach the finish line within the next 24 hours if we wanted to was great. Having made good ground in Mongolia its looking more and more likely that we will complete the task. Now we can take the final stretch at a more leaisurely pace and enjoy the beauty of Mongolia. Well, its safe to say we would have enjoyed it a hell of a lot more if it the weather could be decent enough to stop bloody raining.

Having enjoyed Alex’s birthday Mongolia style the night before, we set off and it quicky began to rain. An experince we had hoped wouldnt be repeated after a misserable few days in the dreaded Ukraine. As you can imagine, the Carmichael still leaks….. alot. The image of Drew sat in the back wearing waterproofs absolutely dripping whilst trying to finish his 4th ever book summed-up the day. He looked ridiculous, except for that glorious mustache.

After a long day of driving, getting very wet, we pull up ready to camp. This was going to be miserable. However, it should be noted, as it turns out when we’re getting rained on we can put the tent up very qucikly and we were soon under the protection of the tent. Dry… so dry, until the tent started to leak as well and we woke up in a pudle that had turned blue from all the sleeping mats and that had feathers from Alex’s broken sleeping bag everywhere!!! As a team once again we quickly packed everything up, still in the rain and got back on the road (after Jason’s daily shower, shit and shave).

We headed towards Kharakhoom where we visited a temple full of Mongolian Buddhas, and then did a little shopping which is where Harry (our trusted treasurer) spent all the group money on a fur hat with feet on it resulting in the fact that we would later have no money to spent on accommodation or dinner. Fortunately we were alowed to eat and sleep on the basis that we walk to the bank in the morning and settle up. Easy…. until we find out our card doesnt work in the local bank. Oh dear.

Ned and Harry, always with ideas decide to walk to the local garage and sell off our engine oil. It actually worked a dream and within 15 minutes we had paid for the nights meal and rooms and were back on the road with one target. ULAAN BAATAR!!

Here we are, we made it, all the big songs of the trip being blared out and as we get within minutes of the official Mongol Rally finish line it was time to get on the roof. Ok, so we may be slighlty prone to attention seeking but we deserve this. Arriving at the gates of the finish line and we look great. Shame Edd couldnt quite reverse into the parking area, resulting in him timidly getting out and letting big daddy drew do it properly.

So there we have it, 5 weeks to the day and we are at the finish line. We did it. To date we are the only fire engine that has finished and the rumours are that the only other running engine has broken down. Result.

Many thanks to everyone that helped us in anyway, we wouldn’t have made it without you.

Needless to say, we had an excellent evening in Altai. Ned and Ed had gone scouting for beers and had befriended Janni (we tried to explain that his name had been trademarked by Harry’s Grandma), a local Mongol celebrating his 2oth birthday. Two things which Janni enjoyed were the Transformers films and the limelight. If the attention was not on Janni, he got grumpy. The way that we decided to lessen the latter character trait was by plying him with vodka (we toasted his birthday about 10 times) until all he could say was ‘my name is Optimus Prime’.

After sampling the local nightclubs we headed to bed with two other Mongol ralliers crashing on the floor of Jason and Alex’s room. Our guests were rudely awoken by Jason who had developed a vomiting bug (genuinely and from which he has now recovered) and so quickly moved to Ed, Ned, Drew and Harry’s room. Little did they know…

Having only just recovered from the hypothermia induced by the freezing cold shower earlier in the evening, Drew was dreaming of a hot shower. Awoken from his reverie he was faced with a nightmarish reality. Ed had stumbled out of bed and, with his own shower head in hand, was liberally watering both Drew and our unfortunate guests on the floor. Eventually Ed was guided to the bathroom to drain the water tank and our guests left shortly afterwards.

The next morning (afternoon really) we left the town with a rather apologetic Ed and headed onwards. That evening an epic river crossing was  followed by a steady evening after the previous night’s excesses and we were accompanied by a convoy of 5 Mongol Rally teams which we promptly overtook after Alex and Jason had pelted them with eggs. Dinner, literally out of the window, we approached a ger that evening both hoping for (and fearing) some of the local fare.

With the compulsory play with the children out of the way, we were invited into the ger which was suprisingly comfortable and furnished with 4 beds, small tables, a television and an ancient Mongol man with a face as creased as our clothing. We were invited to eat noodle soup and some miscellaneous meat, which was politely quaffed down in a manner similar to oyster eating.

Upon sharing songs (their lovely Mongolian music to our Three Lions on a Shirt), we were invited to try eirag, fermented mare’s milk, which again was politely quaffed (we must be good actors because we were given some more of the stuff to take with us).

We have now made it to Arjawcheer (pretty sure that’s not how you spell it so I wouldn’t bother trying to Google it) and are around 2 days drive from UB. Everyone is in high spirits and we are looking to head to Kharakoom (again probably mispelt(?) ) which was the centre of Genghis’ empire. Lots of love to everyone and thank you for all the donations (we are approaching the  target but with only 2 days to go!)

This post is going to have to be a quick one, as we’re keeping an army of Mogolian adolescents from their World of Warcraft.

Our second day in Mongolia begun when we were woken  in the early hours of the  morning by one of our drinking partners from the night before. He had returned specially on his mortorbike and kindly offered to drive us – and the fire engine – the rest of the way to Ulaan Baatar. As  he could barely  stand  we politely declined, Ed offering him a quick kiss on the lips by way of consolation. He enthusiastically accepted – Ed’s first pull of the trip.

During the morning clear-up it transpired that not even the local dogs could stomach the previous evening’s ‘Mediterranean Goulash’. We said our goodbyes and left our hosts – a rubber duck, six plastic cups, two chairs, a fireman’s hat (to be used as a motorbike helmet), a pink hula skirt and a novelty bow-tie lighter.

We made our way along dirt tracks through Olgii (the first checkpoint), camping in the wilderness surrounded by stunning scenery and heading on early the next day.  Stopping only to eat  ‘local’(?) fish for lunch and fix a Mongolian trucker’s brakes with Duck tape, we  made camp in an area of desert populated solely by mosquitoes. As their first meal in weeks and our deet supplies running dangerously low, we resorted to burning dung and eating in a cloud of smoke. With somewhat limited success.

After two more days in the wilderness (average speeds falling below 20 kmph and bits gradually  falling off the truck, including one of our spare wheels) we have finally made it to Altai – the largest town of the region – where the only restuarant has a disco ball, and the only bar promises Saturday night Karaoke. Needless to say Ned is there already.

Somehow we manged to get going fairly quickly the next morning (partly because the cows were rummaging around outside the tent) and were back on to the climbing roads. This was our day for the Mongolian border. We were trucking along quite nicely  with the scenery getting more and more epic – eagles soaring over head.

But then; one of the most extraordinary human sights a peugot from the Rally completely written off on the side of the road. This was originally voted the most pimped car – it wasn’t any more. Miraculously (very miraculously) the three people who had been in the car managed to escape with only a few grazes. Three very shellshocked dutch. Anyway, for financial reasons they wanted to get this skeleton of a car over the border. We found a locals truck and then 10 of us lifted the Peugot into the back of the truck. The other guys helping in this clean up process were the contents of a purple furry car (pretty normal sight!)

This shabby rabble pushed onto the border. We had one of the lucky dutch traveling with us. First off you have to get out of the Russian border. Borders tend to be the scenes of some of the most intense conversations and this was no exception. The Russians were, unsurprisngly,  fairly happy to see us leave. Then there is 20km of No man’s land which is where we saw our first YAK of the trip.  A clear sign that we were close to Mongolia.

Getting into Mongolia is a slightly more laborious process. We were there for a while which was good because we had some good catching up to do with other teams and story exchanging was at high levels. This also gave us time to start trying to put the Peugot back into some sort of shape; wheels were replaced, fuses changed and most importantly the shock switch (which stops petrol flowing when there is an emergency to prevent explosions) needed to be pressed. This was all done under the supervision of a marvelous German couple who are traveling for a year before settling in Oz to set up a German car specialist mechanic. They were absolutely hilarious and the man was wearing short denim shorts – brilliant!

While we were around on the car, engine room (Ed and Drew) had gone for a serious lock in with the officials. We feared that we were going to be kept for the night but about 40 minutes later Ed and Drew appeared with smiles form ear to ear (which is the tell tale sign that they have been successful in their mission.) We were allowed into Mongoliaaaaa!!

MONGOLIA

The land of great height and Yaks and a land that it was quite fantastic that Carmichael had managed to reach!

First night, having driven 60km into Mongolia we saw some gurts on the side of the road – this looked as good a place as any for us to spend our first night. WE went up to the locals and were flocked with children and a couple of parents watching on. I think that basketball is a pretty popular, however, what quite a lot of the kids don’t realise is that basket ball is not played with an oval shaped ball. Watching children trying to bounce a rugby ball is always funny!

Eventually the tent was up and nessa was out ready to be cooked. Alex and Ned went to hike the nearest hill to get some perspective while harry was in charge of the cooking (not as a result of any stupid rota system). 40 minutes later and the boys had returned from their hike and dinner was served. Sadly pasta with tomato and sardines and tuna and local yaks cheese is an absolutely repulsive recipe that should never ever be repeated. Even the locals who we offered the food to had grimacing faces after the first bite. We are however quite hungry and so it was eaten none the less.

The adults then took all the children to bed which was when things got funny. The locals produced their (quite delicious) vodka and we started celebrating  general life and the land of Mongolia. It is always interesting to find out how new people toast when drinking together. Somehow , while trying to explain that in England we say “cheers”, the local guys who we were drinking with thought that “Our man does” was what we said. And so the night moved on with Ukelele playing and the increasingly frequent cries of “ARMANDOES”

Lots of love from us all and thank you to all those who have been so generous in donating so far.

Another day, another border crossing into Russia.  It turns out that incompetence is king; the more of an obstacle you make yourself the quicker they move you, and after having our own personal chaperone we were through in just under two hours.  Setting our compass to 90 degrees we hit Omsk for sundown.  Looking for some food we stumbled across a wedding reception.  Naturally we crashed it, and Ned finished off the evening with a belting rendition of Hey Jude.  It went down a storm.

Next stop; Gorno-Atalysk.  A contentious decision resulted in us forgoing the Bell Tent and trying to find a place to kip in town.  When the woman at the spa refused our offer of renting the whole place for 12 hours, we began to look for somewhere a little more conventional.  Unfortunately we were intercepted by Jura, a steaming drunk ‘policeman’ in a plateless car.  He told us to wait ten minutes whist he drove off to do some ‘business’ – to make sure we didn’t scarper, he took record of our vehicle registration.  Dubious about his cop credentials we reached for the bandit basher….  After several increasingly incomprehensible encounters with Jura we did what we should have done a good hour ago and ragged the Carmichael out of town as quickly as we could.  Turns out Jura was not a policeman.

The morning after the night before was a surprise to us all.  Being unable to see where we pitched the tent, we awoke in a lovely field next to the river.  After a couple of set plays and a lot of smuggling we were ready to go – we even had the luxury of soft boiled eggs! The road ahead was taking us into the heart of the Altai Mountains.  The Carmichael ate it up, and we pitched our tent looking to be at the Mongolian border by 9am the next day.  Unfortunately, the Finka got in the way.

The past few days has seen a lot of driving, that’s not to say however that they don’t deserve a mention. Since we arrived in Kazakhstan 5 days ago we have mostly camped, which has consisted of ‘Glamakins’ (gherkins and vodka) and with the help of Ned’s rota, the organisation of setting up camp and making dinner.

Day 19. Our campsite is a tip. What happend? As it turns out most of the mess was made as Drew and Edd (A.K.A the Engine room) put Ned to bed. A lesson to be learned from this is that no one needs very much alchol after four long days in the desert with not much food in order to become uterly boozed. We set ourselves an optamistic 30 minutes to pack up and get on the road, so 70 minutes later and we were ready for a massive day of driving. Nothing could stop us now and with Harry (the spare) at the wheel we drove like the wind blows. As mentioned in a previous blog however, as a team we do have the tendancy of getting distracted. If you can imagine how dusty, sweaty and smelly 6 lads in a truck driving threw a desert can get in 4 days you can understand why when we saw a river it was time to whip out the now famous budgey smuggerles and go for a dip.

The water was bloody fantastic, and after a swim and a wash we began to talk to some locals who were enjoying a bit of piece before we turned up. Needless to say we stood out, they were too polite to question our atire and even offered us lunch. Very tasty lamb stew which thy had cooked, but could this have consequences? The ever hungry Mr Simpson wasnt satisfied so we went down the road to find some more food for him. It was outside this local cafe where we decided to show off our rugby talent. (attractive waitress’ obviously having nothing to do with this sudden display of manlyness) Time for a line-out. Edd thows the ball and Drew and Alex lift jason who cathes the pass perfectly and sends the ball Ned’s direction. Brilliant!!! We are absoutly brilliant!! Oh wait, its not over…. Ned passes tha ball on to Harry who not knowing the most basic rules of rugby fucks the whole thing up by tossing the ball forwards. Nevermind, the locals dont know the rules either.

After another couple of hours on the road we arrive in Kostanai. Wearing matching ‘Air Astana’ shirts we move into the town again not knowing were we would be sleeping tonight. We had a little look around and then sat down for some dinner. It would be rude not to have beer with our meals. We havnt tasted cold beer for days now. One beer turned into many beer however, and just as we were ready to make our move two bottles of vodca had found there way to out table somehow. Its safe to say we had a great night and Harry mate, what happens at the bar stays at the bar and certainly doenst end up all over Edd’s leg.

Day 20, and we wake up in and on the fire engine once more. OH MY GOD!!! its back!! It tuns out that local food did in fact have consequences. Where are the toilets!!!??? Don’t worry, this time everyone made it to a toilet in time though it should be noted that Alex and Ned came very close and had to resort to begging for money off the sreets to use the toilets. Ned’s teqneque of singing happy birthday to a lady with a cake proving to be the most affectiv form of begging.

Big day of driving ahead of us and we only stop to re fuel and check tires and gear oil. Looking good, Tommy was becoming an increasingly important member of the team to. Thomas Crapper is what we named out homemade toilet which was once a beer crate by the way. The boys are doing good today and we reach out target. We have a nice little dinner and finish the night with some good old fashioned Kareoke. As it turns out we are shit, although if you ever get a chance get Edd to sing Nessum Dorma for you, jokes a side its a real treat.

“A whole new world… Dont you dare close your eyes!” Disney’s Aladdin

Four days into Kazakhstan and the pace of the rally has completely changed.

Gone are the bustling Eastern European cities, replaced by camels, eagles and the arid Kazakh steppe stretching as far as the eye can see. We found out the hard way in Europe that our cab has more than a few leaks – turns out they’re just as susceptible to dust as rain. After long days on “roads” bearing a closer resemblance to the surface of the moon, everything in our lunar lander, us included, ends up covered in an inch-thick layer of dust.

No longer sure which time zone we’re in, we’ve started rising with the sun and stopping only when it sets. For the last few nights we’ve pulled up on grassy fields, pitched our palatial Bell Tent and enjoyed beers, local vodka and meals cooked on our beloved stove, Vanessa, under huge starry skies. As Larry David would say “pretty, pretty good”.

Unfortunately the pace on these roads have been fairly slow, so we’ve been forced to abandon our plans to head to Uzbekistan, taking a more direct route through northern Kazakhstan to Mongolia.

On a fairly serious note, we’ve all found it horribly ironic that Kazakhstan has been completely peaceful and serene while the UK has descended into violence. We were all shocked by the news and hope that everyone back home is safe and sound.

After the elation of crossing the Ukranian border, our heroic drivers smashed out an 800km drive across half of Ukraine to Kiev in torrential rain. With the light fading fast and with nowhere to stay, lady luck smiled on us again: after stopping to fill up the Carmichael, Ukraine’s only Anglophile (a local lawyer named Oleh) managed to bag us insurance, a meal and a place to stay. Bearing an uncanny resemblance to Tom Cruise, Oleh was definitely the hero of the day. We enjoyed a great dinner with him where he told us all about the state of Ukranian politics and the country’s progress since the fall of the USSR – very enlightening.

As our second day in Ukraine drew to  a close, we found ourselves in Kharkiv – as usual, with no idea of what to do or where we were going to sleep that night. However, with Ned on the charm offensive we needn’t have worried: the very first person he asked said that he knew somewhere we could crash for the night. With Ned off checking out our new abode, the rest of us parked the Carmichael in a huge square dominated by a towering statue of Comrade Lenin. It came as a surprise to us, but many former Soviet states have maintained their Cold War era statues and artefacts.

Over dinner, Ned started raving about having found a “bachelor pad” complete with a hot tub, flat screen TV and clapping-activated mood music. Naturally, we assumed he was trying to pull one over us and braced ourselves for the worst. Our fears were somewhat confirmed when we made our way to the apartment through a dingy abandoned lot covered with overgrown weeds and scrap metal. So it was all the more surprising when, opening the scratched up metal door, Ned’s “bachelor pad” was revealed in all its glory: a nautical themed basement, complete with the promised hot tub, TV and mood music.

Safe in the knowledge that we had a proper roof over our heads for a change, we headed out to enjoy the Kharkiv nightlife. What ensued was one of the strangest nights of the Rally so far. The first bar of the night seemed innocuous enough – until we were given steel helmets and, without warning, beaten over the head with metal frying pans in exchange for free shots! Thinking things couldn’t get much stranger, we headed to one of the big local clubs hoping for a less violent end to the night. Everything seemed to be just fine until, having lost track of Alex for a few minutes, we found him just after he had been mugged by a few locals. Thankfully, other than a Nelly-esque bandage on his cheek, Alex is completely fine. Still, it was with renewed wariness that we left Kharkiv, bruised and battered, for Luhansk, our last stop in Ukraine.

Arriving late, we again opted for the patented Stuart-Smith “ask a local” approach for a place to stay. Ned once again struck up some rapport with the first people he met who subsequently agreed to let us crash at a friend’s place. The walk to the apartment was much like the one the night before – dilapidated buildings, overgrown weeds – so naturally we expected some sort of themed bachelor pad. Unfortunately, this was one book that should have been judged by its cover – we spent a restless night in a mosquito infested flat that stank of urine and sweat. Over a working breakfast the next morning, we decided we’d seen enough of Ukraine and headed for the nearby Russian border.

The Russian border has taken on a somewhat legendary status with Mongol Ralliers, particularly those in fire engines, for being a tough nut to crack. After spending 3 days at the Ukranian border and hearing of a fire engine which was held at the Russian border for 3 weeks last year, we expected the worst. So it came as a huge surprise when the Russian guards good naturedly went through our passports and bags, laughing at embarrassing middle names (Creffield, Rupert Procter?) and our Budgy Smugglers. One of the guards joked that his mate was an alcoholic and asked if we had any booze to share. He was delighted to get a bottle of 2 Euro gin which he must have started bragging to his mates about as we soon had another guard approach us, point sheepishly in an envelope and whisper “gin”. A couple of bottles later and we were through!

We arrived in Volgograd, formerly Stalingrad, a few hours later. Encouraged by the improved weather we decided to park near the banks of the Volga and and sleep on top of the truck for the night (although not before Treasurer Simpson had managed to buy a few bottles of Champagne in a nearby club).

We’d been told about a stunning war memorial by another team that had passed through a few days earlier and headed off the next morning to check it out. Set atop of a hill which saw some of the fiercest fighting in the battle of Stalingrad, an enormous statue of Mother Russia facing East across the Volga and an incredibly moving memorial with the names of the fallen. It was a sobering reminder of the remarkable history of the region that we’re travelling through.

The following night we headed to Astrakhan, another beautiful city on the Volga, just near the Russian border where we rested up for our last big border crossing into Kazakhstan. After a few “gifts” of pens and cigarettes we were through – the roads immediately turned to shit, riddled with enormous potholes and we started to see herds of camels grazing by the roads – the real Mongol Rally has begun!

Our decision to head to Tokaj was based largely on Ned’s assurance that it was the home of an excellent sweet wine that went well with Foie Gras. The rest of us had never heard of it. The town itself however proved to be as illusive as it was alluring. Depsite being barely an hour’s drive south of the Hungarian border, stopping after three hours to ask for directions we learn’t that we were back in Slovakia.

Recovering from our minor setback, we arrived – several hours and a new map later – to find everything we had hoped for. Asking after a place for a quiet drink before bed we were told that on Saturdays the was a large party out-of-town but that “it will be full of seventeen year-old locals; you guys wont like it.” Alex carefully took directions to make sure we didn’t run into it by mistake.

In the morning we begun our third assault on the Ukrainian border. Given the now substantial collection of red rejection stamps in our passports, team optimism was running at Chadwickesque lows. Thanks to the heroic effors of Mariann (a friend of the Pelly’s), Anna (a friend from Cambridge) and Vitaly (an ex-special forces Ukranian who assured us at the outset that with him “border – no problem”) we made it through ten hours later.

The following morning our elation at finally making it out of the EU was dampened only by the torrential rain that had followed us from Slovakia. Whilst teams close ahead had been reporting 40 degree temperatures and perfect sunshine, that rain is still with us. It would seem that the Carmichael moves at a very similar speed to an occluded front. Despite our continued modifications she is still far from watertight. Thankfully we are all becoming used to sleeping in  waterproofs. And as Dolly Parton once said, “If you want the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain.”

On leaving Maria`s appartment (Maria is the girl whose spare appartment we stayed in) we set off eager to get the kms (unfortunately we have switched to metric) under our belts. Fulfilling our agreement of taking Maria and her friend into work, we then decided to organise the chaos that was the storage compartments. With all our paraphernalia spread out in a side street car park, we set to work, stopping only to cook breakfast on Vanessa, our fondly named gas stove. After a hearty meal of Greek stroganoff (short on supplies we replaced cream with yoghurt (for recipe details, drop us an email!)), we performed our rigorous daily checks.

Flat tyre. Realising that our wheelbrace may as well have been made out of chocolate, we crawled to a nearby garage. The garage was a shady looking place but the people were very helpful. Whilst washing our hands after replacing the tyre (admittedly with help from the mechanic), Ned spotted a massive machine gun at the back of their workshop. Ever inquisitive, he asked if he could see it, the rest of us ducking and weaving to the Carmichael. Thankfully it turned out to be a mock-up BB gun. However, that was the tip of the iceberg. Ushering us out back, one of the mechanics opened a cage door and ushered down a set of stairs into a gloomy bunker. Images of every horror film we had ever seen flashing through our heads, we headed downstairs to the ‘armoury’. Replicas of every weapon imaginable adorned the walls. We rushed forwards like 8 year old boys to grab the biggest ones there and start playtime.

Unfrotunately, we eventually had to leave and headed to the Slovakia/ Ukraine border. We arrived at the border in the early evening in high spirits. Not to lure in the reader, we were in for a shitstorm of badness. At the border we were greeted by a line of lorries around 3km long. Group decision was to skip the queue and join the much shorter car/ minibus line. After a short while we had crossed through the Slovakian authorities with ease, aided by the ever-friendly Slovakians and the fact they were going to see the back of us.

The Ukranian border police saw 6 stupidly-grinning idiots and decided there was some leg-lifting to be done. As newcomers to the intricate art of bribery, our first attempts were less than successful. Initiating ourselves into the seedy act with dropped notes, overly obvious attempts and complete failure to pick up the signals, we were turned away 7 hours later and 60 euros lighter. To add insult to injury, it had begun to rain. It transpires that the Carmichael is as watertight as the stories Ed tells to pick up girls. We got wet. Rejected from teh border we spent a miserable night cramped up in the cab. Next morning, having experienced a night of Chinese water torture, we had another stab at the border. After another 6 hours at the Ukranian border we were infromed that the vehicle weighed more than 3.5 tonnes. Armed with our ‘new’ knowledge and faced with another rejection (Harry being the only one who had learned to deal with it) we decided to try a different border post. As luck would have it, Tokaj was a couple of hours drive away across the Hungarian border and near to the Hungary/ Ukraine crossing. To Tokaj!

“Life is a roller coaster just gotta ride it” – Ronan Keating