Joomla Login LightBox powered by WowJoomla.com

Day 30 - The end is in sight

So, day 30. A month since we started this challenge, a month where we've crossed 15 countries, a month where the small Citroen Saxo has been our home. Waking up in the desert, in our respective tents, had not got any more affluent - those roll mats we'd brought 9,000 miles had been suitably compressed to more resemble a sheet of paper than foam.

Still, it sounds like I'm moaning - if this were a regular camping weekend in the UK, it would be moaning. But here.. waking up a thousand miles away from a border, in one of the least populated places on the planet, completely vulnerable to the elements and surroundings, almost at one with the world.. it all makes it very much bearable.

As always, we woke up at a very respectable time in the morning (the sun rising over the plains and flooding our tents with light does help), and repacked our cars. Ed & Emma shared the collective skill us boys had at repacking - well, they had a little more space and fantastic foresight; they brought such Western wonders as plastic boxes and containers - every piece of camping equipment had it's own special place in their very tidy car!

Once the campsite had been deconstructed (and all rubbish had been packed up - this was an immaculate piece of our planet, albeit a very dusty one. The last thing we wanted to do was leave plastic rubbish lying around), we set off. The excitement between the two cars was clearly apparent - we all chatted wildly on the CB radios about what the day would bring - are we really in reach of Ulaan Baatar, the capital of this magnificent country, and our finish line? Will we see that mythical tarmac ever again? Who knows.. but right now, we had to push on. We were still in the middle of the desert, nothing to be seen in any direction - our trusty keyring compass providing the only fleeting idea where our finishing line might be…

Onwards we went, the night silence of the desert rudely replaced with the vicious growling of two very small cars with very broken exhausts

A flat tired before we reached Bayankhongor, where we got that fixed. We all travelled through the small town until the other side, and found a lovely shallow river running through the place. This seemed like a good place to stop for an early lunch. Ed and Will went in Percy to try and get the tyre fixed, and Mackey, Emma and I made lunch. Ems and I went paddling, which descended into a water fight (using our pots and pans as water flinging weapons). As it turns out, first bath we'd had in a month. Was fantastic feeling, although bloody cold.

Mackey cooked noodles, sat on the shore with an adult look of disapproval at the two of us having fun in the water. After 5 minutes of simmering on our stove, Mackey presented lunch to me - the Russian equivalent of Super Noodles in a polystyrene package, that tasted nothing like the "roast beef" as advertised. I'm betting the polystyrene had more flavour, in fact. Luckily though, those superb Navy Rations (thanks again, anonymous Navy donor!) each had a minuscule bottle of tabasco sauce in. This did flavour them well. Emma, on the other hand, had cous-cous, roasted vegetables and pistachio nuts. Can you really say, that's true adventure food?!

Ed & Will returned as we were finishing lunch, and they too tucked into the flavourless noodles. Once we'd eaten, washed up in the river, and repacked our lunch camp - it was time to push on. We were already on the right side of the small town, and so joined the only road/path leading out of it. Noticeably though, was the presence of several other vehicles. Compared to the vast solitude of the desert for the past few days, this was a comparable metropolis.

Before long, the noodles still warm inside us, we came across an old friend - the river crossing. Those few vehicles around us realised what naive foreigners we were, and they swiftly overtook us and ploughed straight into the water. Successfully, I might add. Filled with confidence, and without the need to get out and spend half an hour discussing crossing strategies, Ed and Mackey took the two driving seats and followed suit. Ed went first, the 206 smashing into the shallow (and very warm) water, reaching the other side without so much as a lift off the accelerator. Mackey, whose driving experience had not let us down so far, was close behind and revved high as Pete the Saxo pushed through the water to the far bank.

Having paid close attention to our own vehicles, I didn't realise until making my way across (by strolling through the knee high water) that the other bank of the river was filled with quite an impressive crowd of locals. Those vehicles that proceeded us were obviously taking bets whether our little European cars would make it, and half a dozen small vans had disembarked their passengers. As both cars made it, a slow ripple of applause went through the crowd (obviously those that had bet on our success!).

And onwards we went, as the hills that seemed to surround every Mongolian town once again gave way to the flat expanse of the desert. We were still on our path, with very little chance of going in the wrong direction (mainly as there were no other options to follow), and we drove blindly in a very rough North-Eastern direction.

Before long, Percy the Peugeot experienced yet another flat tyre. Since we met with Ed & Emma in Kazakhstan, I think they've had 6 or 7 flats. And none before our teaming up. Perhaps Scilly Mission are bad luck… As the tyre was replaced,  we reflected on the status of the car - the gearbox was screwed, very stiff and would only really stay in 1st or 4th gears. Trying to get through a particularly difficult bit of terrain, needed low gears for slow moving followed by higher for fast moving (and lots of changing in between), was getting very difficult.  Front shock absorbers had also broken, no doubt the pounding they'd received over the last week across the rough desert. Possibly worst of all though, was the dust - very very dusty - everything had a thick layer of desert dust coating everything, including us. That river washing we had a few hours ago? Nothing but a dream now.

With the tyre replaced, Percy's bad luck continued - an hour of driving once again with 4 inflated tyres, a new problem presented itself. Clearly visible from us in Pete trailing shortly behind, was Percy's heat shield - the large sheet of metal underneath the engine block - but this time, one side was dragging along the desert floor. Not so good! Another quick stop, and some of Mackey's mechanics, and we were set to go. Again. For how long this time, no one knew!

Our next target was a small town called Arvayheer, which we knew from previous experience to expect nothing big or fancy. One of the largest "cities" of the region, Altai, had turned out to be nothing more than a large collection of gers and a fuel station. Arvayheer, according the map, was an order of magnitude smaller. As we approached however, we noticed those tell-tale hills filling the horizon, and the land seemed a little more alive - sporadic patches of grasses that provided sustenance to large herds of wild horses, who all looked up in bewilderment as our loud, pokey cars tore by.

As we travelled along the desert path, most of it resembling a WRC course, a little accident occurred. You see, despite good visibility as we drove forward, it can sometimes be very difficult to judge some of the obstacles immediately in front of you. A pot hole, from 100 meters away, might seem to be a small dip in the sand, whereas in fact would happily swallow your car. As Ed took the lead, and made the judgement on a little indentation that was getting ever closer, Percy's front wheels fell sharply and the front of the car took the full force of the impact. Straight away, the occupants of both cars knew this could be particularly bad.

As we all got out, we were relieved to see Ed & Emma were OK. Not an overly bad incident from a passenger point of view, but looked very nasty when thinking of Percy. First impressions were good though - the front bumper didn't look too bad, both front wheels looked remarkably spherical, and no obvious damage could be seen. To see is one thing though - to hear is another. And as we all examined the front of the car, a very loud hissing sound could be heard. This wasn't good.

All eyes went to Mackey (and his mechanics) - could it be a fuel line? Radiator? From the looks of it, the front wheels had jumped up so badly, it had pushed the alternator up and caught a pipe in the spinning belt. It had pierced said pipe, which was hissing ferociously, throwing out it's unknown contents onto the desert floor.

It didn't smell like fuel (which was a good thing), and didn't feel too much like oil - so hopefully wasn't a brake fluid or similar. Possibly radiator? It wasn't as warm as the Russian heatwave that so punished us, but it wasn't cold either - and the cars had been driving non stop for hours. Without a working radiator and cooling system, the Peugeot wouldn't last long.

As crazy luck would have it though, and about bloody time, Arvayheer was in sight - literally a mile away, the cluster of single story gers a welcome site. At this distance, Pete could tow Percy there, and hopefully find a garage (or someone with the tools and mechanical know-how to assist).

This was the second time the tow rope had been used (the first, when we dragged Percy out of the Mongolian river - Pete is proving to be even more of a hero!) and we very slowly headed into the town to seek assistance. Mongolians really are an incredibly friendly race of people, second to none (perhaps maybe Kazakhs) - for as soon as we entered the town/village, the middle obvious from it's one petrol station, we were approached by two Mongolian men, asking what the problem was. They had a quick look, but insisted they knew of a mechanic that could fix it quickly. Perfect!

They jumped in their car, and drove 100 meters down the road and pulled in to a closed.. well, nothing to describe it really other than a field, with high fences along each side. Perhaps back home, that might be something of a cause for concern - entering a secure, private area with (now) 8 or 9 strange men. But in Mongolia, and us as seasoned travellers, we knew they meant well, and we followed them in.

Their workshop wasn't the most equipped in the world - the car ramp, enabling the mechanic, was nothing more than 2 logs. The mechanic himself, was nothing more than a sleeping man in a chair (although did the Asian mechanic tradition of removing his top whilst working under the car. Europe was the last time we'd seen a car mechanic wearing a t-shirt!)

As the Mongolian mechanic and his crew/friends/neighbours began to delve into the bonnet and start to investigate, our two teams held our collective breaths. What would that leak be? Would it be fixable? Would we be safe to continue on our journey, knowing we were SO close to the end?

Luck again - only the air conditioning system! (luxury or what?! Serves Ed & Emma right!). The leak was nothing more than the air conditioning fluid - something that Percy can most definitely do without (and apparently hadn't been used in ages. We don't believe them!).

We set off again through the village, and by this time was late afternoon. Onwards we went - this time, following electricity poles! Each were numbered, something like 1888, 1887, 1886 - huge distances between them, but did this mean we were going in the right direction? Definiteily close? The excitement filled the air once again. Looking at the map, we realised tarmac must be nearby. Ulaan Baatar was the capital, and capital cities generally had a tarmac "red carpet" entering them. How close were we from this precious road surface? An hour? 8 hours? Either way, it was now a case of hours - and not days or weeks.

We drove for a good few hours, excited to see further signs of civilisation, but darkness soon took the day from us as the sun began to set over the distant horizon. We wouldn't be making Ulaan Baatar today, but we were close. So so very close. As we continued as far as we could whilst remaining relatively safe, we began to look for a suitable place to stop up and camp for the night. Overwhelemed with choice (as we were in the vast expanse), we noticed a headlight behind us, and watched as it got closer and closer.

Being a single headlight, us clever folks surmised it was a motorbike, that had caught us up. Not overly strange we thought, so we slowed down a little to let them pass. What was strange however, was they didn't pass. They just stayed behind us, following our tail. Hmmmm. This is strange.

Our two cars talked on the CB Radio - who was this lone rider who was intent on following us? Was this his patch of the desert we were travelling through? Without much of an idea who they were, or what to do, we carried on.. slowly. And, as feared/expected, the rider followed us still. Several times as we tried to make out further detail in the twilight, he came along side us. It was a lone Mongolian man, looking to be in his 50s, with an angry expression and a rifle in his hands.

Yes, he had a rifle. He was a gun wielding motorbike rider, and he was following us. We tried to work out how far we could go on like this, travelling slowly as to avoid any unseen obstacles, but it would only be a matter of time before we had an accident. After all, if Ed can hit a big dip in the road in broad daylight, we were risking it by driving in these almost night like conditions.

Mackey, driving his usual twilight shift, made the decision to stop. Yeah, he had a gun. But there were 5 of us. Potentially armed with spades, jerry cans and packets of Russian noodles. Both cars slowed to a stop, and as expected, the motorbike rider came to a stop. He had his rifle slung over one shoulder - which we allowed to fill us with a small sense of relief - much better over the shoulder than in his hands, the iron sights lined up towards our pretty little heads.

He sat there, looking at us. Perhaps not with the look of evil rage that we imagined, maybe pure curiosity. After all, here was a traditional Mongolian herdsman on an ancient Soviet motorbike. Here we were, 5 European travellers in fancy cars (Only in Mongolia could you consider a Saxo and 206 to be fancy!). We opened the doors, and Mackey approached him 20 meters away from the car. I couldn't hear a lot from the safety of the car interior, but we noticed Mackey pulling out a packet of cigarettes, and offering them to him.

Darkness had fallen, so much so we could only watch as the two silhouettes, Mackey and bikeman, nodded and pulled out cigarettes. A short minute later, although felt much longer when holding your breath, the bikeman restarted the old contraption on which he rode, and sped off into the darkness.

Mackey had done well - "He only wanted a cigarette!". It could have gone so much worse, but this was Mongolia - friendliest people around! We guessed that this was just as good as any to rest up for the night, and so unpacked our tents and set up camp. It's strange, thinking that this could be the last time the tents would ever be used by us. I give you, we weren't there quite yet. But we were so very close.

It was a collective feeling, and so we treated ourself. Potentially the last night camping on our little stove, so out came the luxury rations we'd been saving. Treacle sponge and custard; chocolate cake with chocolate sauce; toffee cake with toffee sauce; all the desserts we wanted. Even the main meal was no longer a random pick (to make it fair between us all), and we delved in to the mess of the roof box and chose our own delights. Ems and I, in our usual role of chef and KP, got to work as the table was set up and tents erected.

We sat around, yet again a hundred miles from anything resembling civilisation, and finally let the excitement get to us. We were so close to the finish line, to the culmination of months of planning, it was electric. If a car went wrong, we could all squeeze in one and make it. If both cars went wrong, we'd have the encouragement to run the rest of the way! Here we were, 1 team of 5 friends, knowing we'd been through more with each other than others we'd known for decades. Tonight, we'd eat well, we'd even crack open the Kazakh brandy we were bought a few weeks ago, and rest our heads on the desert floor for possibly the last ever time…..

(Mackey and Will did spend a few more hours tucked up in Pete the Saxo finishing the bottle of brandy…)