Friday 9th September
This was it, the day we had been
building towards since that hair-raising lap around Goodwood 54 days ago. This
was the day we were going to cross the official Mongol Rally 2016 finish line.
Uncontainable excitement echoed throughout the camp that morning as we battled
the dreary conditions and swarms of flies trying to nab our scrambled eggs. But
it didn’t matter; the anticipation of a monumental motoring victory was already
coursing through our veins. Nothing was going to stop us from achieving the aim
we had set out almost a year prior to this moment. Not since flying around the
Goodwood Circuit at the launch party had we felt such glee. Like every great
tale, it had come full circle but this time spirits were high, the suspension was
higher and optimism was in the stratosphere.
For the last time before the finish
the convoy kick-started their engines, set a course for Ulan Ude and glided
into formation. With only 100km to travel, the Mongolia/Russia border was the
final hurdle of this steeplechase marathon. An incorrect multi-entry visa,
drugs or a burning effigy of Vladimir Putin were the only things that could’ve
stopped us from reaching Ulan-Ude now. Mongolia’s border was relatively quick
and painless but as we proceeded through no man’s land it soon became apparent
that the Russians wouldn’t be quite so lenient. Full sniffer dog strip searches
of the car were being conducted ahead of us in the queue. Marigold’s pulse went
into overdrive but with nothing to hide she let out a few deep breaths and soon
calmed down. That was until one of the sniffer dogs found a large bag of white
powder under the driver’s seat.
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| The last border crossing |
As the AK47s cocked and became trained
on our forehead’s we professed our innocence, adamant that someone had planted
it. Then the realisation hit us, it was Caleb’s 5kg of protein he had packed
with good intentions but had actually only used a handful of times. Giving his
best dumbbell-curling Ronnie Coleman impression, Caleb desperately gazed into
the eyes of a sceptical-looking border guard who was about to give his verdict.
Mocking our now skinny appearance, his emerging expression begged the question
“Vy dazhe even lift?” rather than pointing us in the direction of the firing
squad. Fortunately, as a fellow muscleman himself he seemed to understand
Caleb’s ambitious pre-rally health intentions. So unless we were smuggling
roid-ridden Impact Whey as part of a large-scale protein cartel in Ulan-Ude’s
drug underworld, we were free to go.
Once past the border it was open road
all the way to Ulan-Ude. The timing couldn’t have been better. A golden glaze
radiating from the setting sun smothered the convoy in a blanket of warmth.
Glints of sunlight bounced off nearby buildings, showering the road in a
prism-like matrix of light. Everything seemed to converge on one destination,
the now visible Ulan-Ude. It was almost biblical.
Once within the city’s boundaries it
became clear from the antagonistic driving of Isaac in the Kenari that a race
to the finish line was unfolding. Cue the fiercely competitive side of Fernando
Alf-lonso and Pastor Cal-donado in Marigold and Agilles to erupt into life.
Team Honeymoon, who had previously told us “we don’t have maps for Ulan-Ude,
please don’t speed off”, were left for dead. There was only one thing on
everyone’s mind, winning.
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| The race to the finish begins ... |
Meanwhile Isaac, or Nico Gos-berg, was
tearing through Ulan Ude’s street circuit like Colin McCrae on acid. Jumping
red lights, hitting the apex of backstreet shortcuts and even mounting the tramlines
to gain an advantage, he was intent on getting there first. Then at turn 6 came
the manoeuvre that would seal the fate of the race. With Marigold slipstreaming
the Kenari, Gos-berg took a risky line, swerving violently in front of a yellow
van. When Alf-lonso followed suit in search of the inside line he cut up the
Agila, who hadn’t seen the mischievous speed bump that lay in waiting. Slamming
on the brakes, Cal-donado managed to stall, was forced to box the lap and
returned to the pit lane with transmission problems. At least 4 seconds down
coming out of that sector, Marigold’s task was too great and we had to settle
for second place.
Rounding the final corner and into the
home straight the chequered flag came into sight. After 12,175 miles, 54 days
and 20 different countries we had made it to Hotel Altan, the FINISH LINE of
the Mongol Rally 2016!
As we pulled up onto the forecourt in
front of the gigantic finish line banner, the entire rally came into focus.
Suddenly we were rewinding back through time. Slow motion flashbacks of how far
we’d come began to reverberate through our minds. The winding roads of the
Transfagarasan Highway, the magic of Capadoccia’s hot air balloon filled dawn
skies and Tehran’s extraordinarily friendly people. Turkmenistan’s spectacular door
to hell, the eeriness of the Aral Sea and the wondrous star packed sky of the
Ayaz Kala Fortress. More and more memories kept coming to the fore. The
striking magnificence of the Wakhan Valley, the stunning peak of the Pamir
Highway and of course the unparalleled beauty of Mongolia.
When we snapped back to reality, the
magnitude of our achievement finally set in. Marigold, a 1.3L golden tin can
with no rev counter and a buckled bonnet, had carried us half way around the
world. Grinning from ear to ear, we leapt out of the car and embraced. Like
Frodo tossing the ring into the lava of Mount Doom, we pulled back, stared into
each other’s tearstained eyes and exclaimed, “it’s over, it’s done”.
As more rally teams trickled into the
enclosure, wild celebrations ensued. Reversing our three glorious engines under
the bright lights of the finish line banner, we conceded that this was their
moment in the spotlight not ours. Donning our garish suits one last time we
lined up in their midst with champagne bottles in hand. Just as the camera
angles and drone had been trained perfectly on the scene, Caleb’s cork
unceremoniously popped too early and bubbles instantly sprayed everywhere. Within
an instant, frantic bottle shaking led to eruptions of froth and a frenzy of
champagne showered everything in sight.
In the bar next door to the hostel the
party atmosphere had well and truly kicked off. Beer in hand, we saluted our
loyal companions - Bathtub Bilbo, Terry the Duck and the irreplaceable Marigold
– and proceeded to get very drunk over a game of Cheers Guv’nor.
For many teams this was indeed the end
of the road for they were forced to submit their cars to the scrapyard before
flying home. Many had jobs, education and families waiting for them when they
returned home. For us, this was barely the beginning.
Like the noble Samwise Gamgee one
said, “what about the return journey Mr Frodo?”
Well that leg of the journey was about
to begin …
#thereisnofinishline
#thereisnofinishline
Posted by: Rich