Monday 5th September
The promise of scrambled eggs on fried
bread for breakfast was enough for me to nearly break the tent zip in
excitement. Although, the garnish of docile flies didn’t quite live up to the
mouth-watering Piri Piri sauce I’m used to at home. Back on the road, paved tarmac
greeted us all the way to a small town called Applebondsheep (or that’s what I
deciphered from the Mongolian version) halfway between Bayankhongor and Ulaanbaatar.
Alf’s malapropisms struck once again at lunch when he received his food,
grinned at the waitress and proclaimed “paella”. Of course what he meant to say
was “ba-yar-la” meaning thank you in Mongolian. You twit.
About 70 km closer to Ulaanbaatar the
horizon began to fill with the most fantastic looking golden sand dunes. Smooth,
grooved and untouched sand was smothered over the landscape like a giant slice
of hot buttered toast. We had reached the sand dunes of Elsen Tasarkhai in the
Northern Gobi Desert.
The convoy swung into an enclosure
where two yurts and a collection of camels were located. Once the lady had
ascertained all ten of us wanted to ride them into the dunes, they had to call
in the reinforcements. Whilst we waited for three more camels to arrive, one by
one we began to mount our new mode of transport. Choosing the right camel was a
heavily scrutinous process. Criteria number 1: if it sh*ts on itself, it won’t
think twice about doing the same to you.
If you could dodge a self-defecating
camel, the next concern was comfort. For this you had to assess hump size and
shape. From flaccid knee warmers to sharp pyramidal peaks to perky silicon
implants, the camels’ breasts were a great source of jealousy. Once three more
camels had been sourced from a neighbouring camel herder, we were led off on a
trek “around the block”. No camel riding experience would be complete without
one sneezing in someone’s face. Unfortunately for Guy, he was the recipient of
an exploding snot ball whilst we were lining up for a photo. Cheers for taking
that bullet mate.
With red raw arses, we drove the cars
over to the edge of the dunes and set up camp. Itching to get out there and
onto the slopes, the conditions were ideal for Rich and his beloved sand board.
Racing on ahead to the summit of the steepest dune, he paused, looked down upon
the drop below and briefly considered whether this was a good idea. Of course
it was.
Miming the Christian cross, he ran
full tilt at the lip, alighted the board mid air and waited for a seamless
transition onto the smooth surface. As the battered old skateboard graced the
sand, it sunk in deep, stopped dead and caused Rich to fly headfirst down the
dune. Aware that this was sand boarding and not face boarding, he duly
re-summited the hill for attempt number 2. Once attempt number 34 snapped the
board’s wooden foot holder, the record distance of 8 feet wasn’t going to be beaten
and we returned to camp.
After a brief rest from all the day’s
action, the cricket whites were donned for the second test of the Mongol tour
series. Keen to prove the selectors right after their poor performance in the
Iran test, a few of the players were eager to get back out there and get firing
on all cylinders again. Prolonged dry spells had given rise to a firm,
prematurely aged wicket expected to exhibit plenty of turn. Geoffrey Boycott’s
verdict; “it’s definitely a bowler’s wicket but if they can bat out until tea
without loss, who knows?!”.
Jennings and Colquhoun won the toss and elected to
bat. The initial exchanges were a cagey affair as the opening batsmen struggled
to find their feet. It was no wonder really as more unplayable reverse swing
bowling came bounding down the wicket courtesy of Jimmy Alf-erson. When Matt ‘Muralitharan’
Robbins was brought into the attack with his unorthodox round the wicket finger
spin, the batsmen stood there utterly bamboozled. Utilising full range of the
one hand one bounce rule, Isaac put in a De Viliers-esque fielding masterclass
and received the Investec man of the match. As Billy Bowden strolled out into
the middle to remove the bails, bad light forced an end to the proceedings and
we settled for tea.
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| The 2nd Test |
Keen not to be defeated by the earlier
attempts at sand boarding, Rich tracked down a screwdriver, some screws and the
snapped off piece of wood so that sand board model 2.0 could be re-born. This
time he enlisted the help of trusty Marigold for a gentle nudge in the right
direction. As the goggles descended over the eyes, Marigold fired into life and
began to pull a determined Rich along the sandy path. The board glided
effortlessly over the sand as Marigold gained momentum, much to the delight of
a triumphant Rich. Camels, cricket and now sand boarding, the whole dune
experience had been a blast.
All good days on the rally end with a
fire so it was only fitting that we followed suit. Determined to construct the
biggest fire anyone has ever seen, Lumberjack Caleb set about uprooting every
tree within a 3 miles radius of the camp. The final wood count was the size of
a small bungalow. Within 20 minutes of stoking a small wood-rationed fire,
Caleb, who seemed to be possessed by his inner primal instincts, decided he wanted
to pile the whole lot on at once. 5 whole trees later the flames were now
dancing higher than a basketball hoop and Caleb’s destruction quota had been
satisfied for the day. Watching the now roaring fire from the comfortable distance
of the upper circle, it was as if we were back at the Door to Hell in
Turkmenistan. As the dying embers ebbed slowly away, we all agreed that Day 50
had been an especially memorable day of rallying.
Posted by: Rich