Day 45: The Day of the Auction

Wednesday 31st August

Waking up in Kosh-Agach felt like it was Christmas morning. Palpable excitement was pouring over the camp as this was the day we were finally entering Mongolia!

The pinnacle country of the rally was within our grasp at last. As many previous rally teams had enlightened us, the rally only really begins once inside Mongolia. Dreams of vast steppes, rugged mountains and extensive desert lands inhabited by wild horses, yurts and hardy nomads certainly wetted the appetite. But first we had to negotiate the border, a hurdle many earlier rally teams had fallen at.

Queuing at the border

During another full strip search of Marigold on the Russian side we met Team Sugar and Spice, two courageous ladies in their 50s. An inspiration to us all, they epitomised the adventurous, carefree nature of the rally and ended up towing another team most of the way to Mongolia. As they put it, they’re old enough to know better and yet they don’t! To both of you we doth our caps. 

Surprise surprise the final border crossing before the finish line was becoming another long slog. To help pass the time the usual Pokémon, Wordbrain and Stick Cricket games were resumed. Not content with spanking fast in-swing bowler Dale Steyn all over the park, rank outsiders including Bowmaster, Cliff Diving and Heads Up got their chance to stimulate and entertain. In hindsight, not all our boredom-defying activities were entirely appropriate for a border crossing. Shouting “grenade” in a progressively louder voice as part of Grenade Bogeys was not a wise move once we saw the size of the guard’s AK-47. Needless to say, it was a short game.

6 hours later we drove through the rusty gates emblazoned with a large Mongolian flag and we were in at last. Laughably, barely a centimetre onto Mongolian turf the once pristine tarmac road abruptly stopped to reveal a rocky dirt track winding off into the distance. It was at this point that the newest recruits joined the convoy. Zoe and Matt from Team Honeymoon Roadtrip decided to join Two and a Half Thunderbirds in a Bathtub to form the impenetrable wide diamond formation. Driving a Suzuki Wagon-R and playing the Makelele role, Matt and Zoe had left everything behind to embark on a honeymoon to end all honeymoons barely 2 months after they tied the knot.

We were in!

On the drive towards the nearest town Ulgii we encountered a small group of Mongolian children who had wandered over to our car and began ravaging our food supplies. Before I had time to explain they were stale, a little kid had smothered biscuit crumbs all over his face. Managing to miss his mouth entirely, he was instead filling out an auburn moustache using the bubbling snot from his nose as a suitable adhesive. Looking worryingly like Barry Chuckle, we waved goodbye to our grateful friend and pressed on towards Ulgii.

When we parked up on the town’s main high-dirtpath, a man wielding wads of Mongolian currency marched over to us offering a dollar exchange. All ten of us then proceeded to exchange $100 into Tugrik much to the man’s delight. Now armed with more than Mongolia’s national reserve in dollars, the pot-bellied man began to eye up a celebratory lavish purchase. Thunderbird 4, a bright yellow mobility scooter that sat atop Thunderbird 2, was now the hot topic of debate. Isaac and the friendly local entered into an animated tussle to settle on a price for the sentimental piece of kit. Before long the scooter was descending from the Kenari’s roof ready for a test flight. The slightly rotund man climbed aboard, fired up the battery and let out a giggle as he slowly drifted down the street. 

50 paaand?! Final offa, take it or leave it geezer

Amidst all the hullabaloo generated by Thunderbird 4, further bidders came forward and a somewhat surreal auction developed. Not bound to just the onlookers at street level, there were even some telephone bidders throwing their hat in the ring. One man on the phone kept gesturing with his placard, presumably as a proxy bidder for some Chinese billionaire. Offers were flying about, $100 here, $50 plus a night with his daughter there, but they all fell short of the $150 reserve. Reluctant to budge, the bids eventually fell through, the auction hammer came crashing down and Thunderbird 4 was hoisted back onto the Kenari’s roof. As we returned to our cars we re-assured Bathtub Bilbo that no amount of money could possibly sway us to sell him. Without him we are naked, anonymous, not rally worthy.

Just outside Ulgii we set up camp and cooked our 31^st meal of pasta, tomato sauce and salami. You’d have thought that after 30 previous attempts we should have perfected the herb balance, fusilli hydration time and meat maturation conditions, however we hadn’t. 2 large jars of tomato paste disguised as tomato sauce later and we were eating a hot salty mess of crap. It wasn’t until our insides were being torn apart that we realised what we had done. That and the Big Bons the previous night made us the laughing stock of the camp. We can’t do anything right.

Posted by: Rich

Day 44: The Day of the Carpool Karaoke

Tuesday 30th August

Marigold fired into life on the morning of the 44^th day with a sense of eagerness we hadn’t seen from her in a while. This feeling of anticipation translated through to the rest of the team as we neared the Mongolian border. Russia’s bowling alley roads continued for a good while towards the forested area of Barangol. Stunning woody scenery engulfed the meandering valley roads as we snaked between log cabin towns etched into the impressive slopes. Every now and then you’d catch a turquoise glint of the river running parallel to the road through densely packed stretches of conifer trees. For the first time we felt like we were in bear country.

Craving a short break to stretch the legs we stopped off at a spot next to a lake. Within minutes we had resumed our rally obsession of throwing stones at things by the water’s edge. After Alf proved his worth in a highest skim, most number of skims and largest rock to achieve a single skim skim-off, we retired back to Marigold rather out of breath. Although Caleb gets a special mention for his dambusters-esque boulder bounce, gaining him a perfect ten from the judges.

The skim-off

In the neighbouring town of Karagol we encountered a rather unusual phenomenon. Hundreds of white moths were suddenly flinging themselves at our windscreen. At one point the wipers were deployed on constant to clear the raining moth guts that continued to splatter in front of us. When we pulled over to fill up, tens of thousands more dead moths were strewn on the ground all around us. Covering buildings, electricity pylons, gas station fuel pumps and clogging up our radiator, this town obviously had some kind of infestation problem. I’d have paid a local Russian a lot of rubles for one of those electric shock tennis rackets at that moment.

Lunch at a trucker cafe

Feeling high-spirited we suddenly broke out into a karaoke sing-song to pass the time. Needless to say all the classics were out in force. Vanessa Carlton tickled the keys to get us warmed up before Angels was unreservedly belted out like it was the national anthem. Nothing however can dethrone the Beatles from their title of the most quintessential climactic karaoke song of all time. Even Russia’s roadside sheep population joined in with Hey Jude’s crescendo.

The straight Russian roads go on forever

When we eventually rocked up at the border with Mongolia we were told that it was shut and that camping on the surrounding army owned land was illegal. Consequently we had to turn back around and drive 10 km to a town called Kosh-Agach where roadside camping was permitted. Whilst rooting around for supplies to cook that evening we turned around to the euphoric sight of a dark green Perodua Kenari carrying a bright yellow mobility scooter on its roof. Following closely behind was the red Vauxhall Agila or “Agilles” as it had been named. Team Thunderbirds and Team Two and a Half Men came screeching into the car park where Marigold was sat and the original convoy was reunited. Like greeting old friends, it was as if we’d never been apart.  

Once we’d settled on a campsite we set about preparing dinner. Keen to re-assert our culinary ingenuity on the group, we brandished our Big Bon instant noodles and lapped up the jealous looks. Comprised of 75% air, a bar of soap sized portion of sawdust noodles, and one sachet of sauce that was meant to impart the taste of steak, peppercorn sauce and vegetables all by itself, expectations were low. Indeed those instincts turned out to be accurate. It was like eating shoelace and dishwater soup. As salty goo dripped from our now styleable beards, we looked at each and silently agreed that Big Bons were one of the many decidedly rogue purchases made on the rally so far. However, as a sworn enemy to the car slot, it was a relief to finally get rid of the over-inflated noodle pots that took up so much of our boot.

Posted by: Rich

Day 43: The Day We Saw the Back of Buckwheat Flakes

Monday 29th August

We woke up just over the Russian border to thunderous raindrops on our tent canvases. Annoyingly, the rain showers were intermittent making the whole packing up process a sine wave of emotions. Peak blue-sky optimism soon plummeted to misery before rising back up to false hope again. The wet weather however wasn’t going to spoil the first bowl of actual porridge we’d eaten since the Aral Sea on Day 25. At last we could see the back of Buckwheat Flakes, which I wouldn’t even wish upon a starving African child. Ant-free and coated in a large dollop of strawberry jam, this triumph stood defiant in the face of sodden clothes and lashing rain.

The roads towards Barnaul began very poorly; they were straight enough but numerous potholes punctured their surface. Initially, the landscape was very similar to what we had seen in Kazakhstan but we were so excited by the prospect of entering Mongolia in 2 days time that we didn’t mind. Knowing that during our return journey we were likely to experience the real Russia, at this stage it felt like more of a warm up act before the main event. Mongolia was Harry, the firebolt-flying, golden snitch-seeking Quidditch hero whereas Russia was Ron, the somewhat overshadowed, unheralded Gryffindor house keeper. 

The extensive desolate backdrop continued as we neared the town of Bisck. After a much needed western comfort food dinner, we set up camp a little way out of town at the side of the road.

Posted by: Rich

Day 42: The Day Team Rub-a-Dub-Dub Were Reunited

Sunday 28th August

Around 6am we picked up a dishevelled looking Alf from the airport whose last few days had consisted of 2 long haul flights, a wedding and shuttle rides between Torquay and London. Fair play, he was allowed to be hungover and tired. If he thought he’d be returning to a sunny paradise, he was wrong. For what felt like only the second time on the trip it was wet, windy and cold.

We began the trek northeast towards the border with Russia at Pavlodar. The resulting drive was very flat and unremarkable but this was more an indication of Kazakhstan’s vastness than anything else. The border crossing turned out to be the quickest on the trip yet thanks to more easy-going Kazakhstani border officials. Speaking to another rally team at the border however we soon realised how fortunate we had been throughout Kazakhstan. They had been pulled over by the police on numerous occasions and had to pay over a hundred dollars worth of bribes. We, on the other hand, had just driven illegally without insurance for 6 days and hadn’t been pulled over once. Oops. Maybe it was something to do with the suspicious looking 2D policeman at the side of the road….

Yep, that's a cardboard policeman checking our speed

Continuing to preach the notion that ignorance is the best policy we decided not to bother with insurance in Russia either. As the border guard said, Russians are drunk on vodka water 24/7 anyway so no one really cares. When he moved over to our packet of fags (or go-to bribe offering) on the dashboard, him and his cronies erupted into fits of giggles. They were pointing and laughing at the purposefully grotesque health warning of a bed-bound chain-smoker on the front of our Marlboro Reds. In a manner that exuded “Putin and I fight bears in our spare time” he snatched a cigarette and began to puff away. Russians are hard as nails.

Posted by: Rich

Day 41: The Day of the Sightseeing

Saturday 27th August

Sightseeing in Astana consisted of walking out onto the sun terrace, identifying the sights and looking at them for a bit. After 15 minutes we agreed “yep, those sights have been seen, better return to the sun lounger before the pins and needles begin in our feet”. By our logic we could see them all from the hostel balcony; they don’t change the closer you get. It was yet another victory for efficiency.

After grabbing pizza for lunch from the same convenience store for the third day in a row, we headed over to the “nipple” shopping mall in search of a GoPro. Once inside, the Khan Shatyr mall was huge and it even had a sizeable rollercoaster ride in the centre of it. Opposite the shopping centre stood the famous “I Heart Astana” text wedged perfectly between the archway of an impressive monument in the background. Beyond that you could see all the way down the promenade into the heart of the city culminating in the Palace of Peace and Reconciliation. To make the most of this magnificent view we did what any immature adults in a silly mood would do, hire a tricycle and tear around the park on it ….

The nipple shopping centre

Forget Boris Bikes, the Borat Bikes of Kazakhstan are the future.....

Planning ahead just like we’ve done all trip, we returned to the convenience store at the foot of the hostel’s tower block and stocked up on food. This was where rogue decisions were made. “Big Bons”, or glorified pot noodles, the size of dulux paint pots were purchased in their droves thinking we’d save faff at dinner times. What we actually achieved was a car so tightly packed that we nearly lost our luggage through osmosis.

Posted by: Rich