Mere Mongols - on the road

Sorry, this is a long one…

Yes that’s right, we bloody made it! Against all the odds, The Mere Fongols have found their way to Mongolia’s capital. Since the last blog the trip has been truly epic. The driving was hectic, the views were stunning and the hygiene was non-existent. Hilda - a now fully prepped rally edition Micra - took us over mountains, through rivers and across miles and miles of empty desert.

After pushing and dragging our car up a Russian mountain with the help of some friendly passing Mancunians in a 4×4, we approached the Mongolian western border on the Friday. Here we finally met up with some other Mongol Rally folk. There were about 10 cars all queuing to get to get in, all with a different story, all ready for the final push. We quickly made friends with a film crew in a diesel powered Peugeot 106. They called themselves the Oily Doliy’s as they spent some of there journey powered on vegetable oil. A convoy was formed. The transition into Mongolia was quite extreme; as tarmac was replaced with vague rocky dirt tracks, the journey really started to feel like a rally. A wondering Kazakh invited us into his Ger just as we got into the country after we gave him a lift down the road. He fed us sour yoghurt and disgusting snacks, gave us some very milky tea and a ‘good luck’ charm then tried to take all our money. Bit of a wanker frankly. We moved on unimpressed and out of pocket.

Not really adapting our driving to the conditions we managed to smash into a massive, sharp and subtly placed rock about an hour into Mongolia. The sump guard may have saved us, but its bar jammed into the gear mechanism leaving us stuck permanently in second gear. A bit disheartened we carried on for 2 minutes at which point we ran out of fuel. Seems we should really have filled up the jerry cans. Oops. To top it off we somehow managed to use the last of the fuel in the tank to flood the engine. The car was in serious trouble and the 106 was not exactly built for a tow job. We quickly threw away the clearly cursed charm that the arse hole up the road had given us. We were quickly running out of ideas when we heard the glorious roar of a powerful engine coming from behind us. By some miracle the Mancs who we had met in Russia rolled up over the hill and to our aid in their Land Rover. The legends towed us to the next town, heroically saving us. We pushed the car straight to the nearest mechanic where it seemed almost every Rally car had ended up. Joining the back of the queue to get fixed we camped outside the garage and got completely fixed up the next day for around 25 quid. The 106 had gone on ahead so we crewed up with another Micra, Team Mutley, and set off. We stayed with these guys through to the end. Great peeps, one of which was a mechanic. Score.

Catching up with the Oily Doily’s we formed a 3 car convoy on top of a mountain and headed down towards the Gobi Desert. We were truly in business now. We had found out what the Mongol Rally was all about. The ‘roads’ were terrible for the most part, we were often forced to average around 15 mph. Miles and miles of baron land separated each little town on our route. Every day for the next week we drove all day long and camped up at night. The poor hatchbacks were getting utterly battered. Eventually one of the cars was bound to die. Sure enough, the French car went down about 2 towns from the finish. Some friendly passing Mongolians towed them into town at around midnight and let us all stay outside their Ger. They took us in and fed us poison which we politely scoffed down. They spoke no English so communication consisted of a mix of hand gestures and random laughter. Unbelievably friendly these Mongols, it was good fun.

The 106 was screwed, it needed a new part that was unsurprisingly impossible to find in the Gobi so the Oliy’s would sadly be getting the bus to Ulaanbaatar. We waved goodbye and carried on. Getting closer to our goal, things were looking good until our car came crashing to a halt with a mighty thud in the middle of nowhere. On close inspection our front left wheel appeared to be facing the wrong way. With our wheel sticking out at a right angle to the car we could only assume that we were utterly shafted. We analysed the problem and found that the Mongolian mechanics a few hundred miles back had neglected to securely fasten a rather important bolt when reattaching our sump guard. The drive shaft had come out. Our trusty mechanic Jody assured us this was fixable, if only we had the tools to get the bloody wheel nut off. Luckily it seems Mongolians are more sensible than we are and tend to keep lots of useful equipment in their cars when travelling through the desert. The first 2 cars who eventually passed by were very quick to give us a helping hand, and after a couple of hours of handy work we got it sorted.

Desperate to make it for the second victory party for the slightly slower Ralliers such as ourselves we had to start driving through the night. This was not exactly safe and within about 150km of the finish line our car had taken such a beating it was starting to sound really, really bad. It stalled whenever it stopped and was very hard to get started again. It coughed and it spluttered and would sometimes randomly lose all power. The roof rack was also falling off so we had to ban sitting on the roof which had been wicked.

Sure enough though, at around 2 o’clock Mongol time we rolled into Ulaanbaatar and across the Mongol Rally finish line. We sprayed beer everywhere and jumped around screaming like idiots. We had driven from London to the capital of Mongolia in a 1 litre, 22 year old Micra. What a feeling! We took Hilda to the Rally compound to be dropped off and it literally died as we got there. She had used her last ounce of strength to get us to the end and was ready to end her life. You couldn’t have scripted it better. Proud of ourselves and slightly overwhelmed we headed to the Mongol Rally Party to get utterly smashed, share Rally stories and dance around to Mongolian Techno. Today we rest, tired and hungover. The only question now is what to do next.

Mongol Rally.

Done.

Special Thanks to: Webster Telecom, The Land of Nod, Trident Sensors, The Adventurists, Andy Everingham for sorting the site & blog, CSC and Emily for letting Dave quit, The Parents for the support, the girlfriends for letting Sam and Joe piss off round the world with their mates for 5 weeks, Dave (The Chief) Dunglinson for the Mechanical expertise, Egg for his foot pump, Arthur and Lenon in Uralsk for everything, Helena in Samara for being hot, Mike Welch and the British Embassy, Alex at the border, the mechanics in Kazakhstan and Mongolia but not the ones in Germany, Neil, Jody, Claire, Dave, Laurrie and Christina for the bad ass convoy, Jack Johnson for the much needed 10 dollars, All the Russians who got us drunk, everyone who donated, Will Tomlins for the enthusiastic words of encouragement, All the Mongolians who helped us, saved us and pointed us in the right direction, Nissan for the best car ever, anyone who actually read this blog for one reason or another and anyone else I have forgotten who supported us, helped us and made this trip happen.

Download: Blog - Printable Version

After writing the last blog we immediately happened to bump into a woman who worked at the British embassy. She insisted that we went there to replace the lost migration card, or we would be royally screwed at the border. So we eventually decided to stay in Astana for the night. Ended up in a bar in a castle. Some visiting Russians were sitting on the table next to us. Could only mean one thing. Yup, got drunk for free - being force fed vodka by a giant Russian man with a taste for arm wrestling. Nice city. The Embassy was refreshingly British. 1st Secretary Mike Welch is THE MAN. Sorted Dave out a treat for being the first British citizen to lose his migration card in Kazakhstan EVER. Yeah that’s right, claim to fame. He got the guinea pig treatment as they didn’t really know how to sort it out. Escorted round the city in VIP fashion. Safe.

Eventually we drove hard and true from Astana, through the border and back into Russia. Stopped off in some random town to get a sump guard. Amazing mechanics went straight to work, bodging one together out of some scrap metal and a Mitsubishi bonnet in the space of an hour. It looks the business! Had a couple of run-ins with The Policie - Sam ended up handing over 25 dollars to a Kazakhstani border guard to avoid a shafting. A bit further down the road Joe managed to bribe a Russian police man with Sam’s “Best of Supertramp” cassette tape. Brilliant. No real loss there let’s face it. We may have got slightly lost again, finding ourselves on an unnecessary detour to a town called Hobochyckystini… or something along those lines. Fittest women ever. Fact.

We stopped off here in Barnaul to register our visa’s and grab one final shower before the big push. Yes we are off to Mongolia, this is it. We should hit the western border tomorrow, from there on there is truly no turning back. It’s make it to Ulaanbataar or… well… die! Don’t really know which way we are going or how we are going to manage this but apparently there are no roads. Interesting.

This is probably the last blog until we hit the Mongol capital then so fare well for now. Wish us luck.

Video: Armwrestling - Will vs. Giant Russian Man

It’s been a good 3 days of solid driving. We headed east in search of the nations capital, driving through endless amounts of uninhabited land and camping in the middle of nowhere each night. We got ever so slightly lost at one point, driving some 700km or so in the wrong direction… oops. No one was really sure what had happened when we found ourselves in a practically deserted little ghetto town nowhere near where we thought we were heading. Blame the map. Anyway, we got back on track and with a little help from some random Kazakhstani’s, Will found a shortcut that lead us to here in Astana in pretty good time. The roads truly started to turn to s**t at times but Hilda is still going strong with very little complaints so far.

We’ve lost 1 border pass and haven’t had the other 3 registered which may prove to be an issue getting out of the country. But after a quick debate moments ago, we’ve collectedly decided that there is no time to be fannying around with that kind of jazz right now. So we’re swiftly leaving this city and heading to the border hoping to blag it. Fingers crossed.

It’s been an eventful few days. The city of Samara by Lake Volga was an amazing find and probably the highlight of our Russia experience. There was sun, bars, beautiful women - the works. Sam may have slightly over-indulged; not wanting to turn down free vodka for fear of offending his new Russian friend Victor. He knocked them back like a trooper but it didn’t exactly end happily as you might imagine. Still, massive amounts of fun all round.

We finally hit Kazakhstan and it has been incredible ever since. These people are almost frighteningly friendly. They can’t get enough of our ridiculous rally mission, they think it’s amazing. First of all we made friends with a chap called Alex who helped us all the way through the border and gave us some fly racing gloves. We then met some Kazakh drifter car fanatics called Arthur and Levon who have taken us under their wing and completely sorted us out. They’ve been driving us all around town in Uralsk in their rude boy cars, finding us places to stay, places to eat, places to drink… It’s been bizarre. They even found someone to revitalise our engine and raise the suspension so that we’re no longer about an inch from the ground. Our Micra is now a proper rally car, ready for the big challenge ahead.

Right then, we’re off to Mongolia in a bit, just need to say bye to our new buddies. We’ll probably struggle to find internet much from now on, it’s all going to get a bit serious… well, maybe. We have 10 days to get to Ulaanbataar if want to make the target date. Drive drive drive….

To make up for some lost time we decided to drive solidly through Lithuania and Latvia to get straight to Russia. It seems luck was finally on our side as we managed to sail through the Russian border without having to hand over a single penny. We were surprised after hearing so many stories of teams having to bribe Russian guards horrible amounts of money. They pretty much just laughed at us - obviously appreciating the true Mickey Mouse Operation they were dealing with.

We didn’t even have insurance that covered Russia and we’ve made it all the way to Moscow almost care free. Dave did have to hand over some cash to a cop who pulled us over about half way to the capital. He was repeatedly yelling what we eventually figured out to be the Russian word for “insurance” in a fairly frightening manner. But after we smiled, gibbered and shrugged for about 20 minutes they settled for the 10 dollars which we claimed to be everything we owned.

Just waiting in Moscow to get some valid insurance for now then we’re off to Kazakhstan!

We pretty much drove for 24 hours straight yesterday, finally making it to Warsaw. Drove along the Autobahn at 50 mph all the way, it was hilarious. Angry Germans tooting and screaming left right and centre. We got to Poland and the speed limit on the main road helpfully dropped from unlimited to about 35 mph. Although this seemed to mean absolutely nothing to these people as we let cars scream past us one after another. Still, the polish have been good to us, waving and smiling as they overtake us - a much friendlier reception than that of Ze Germans. Think these guys have more sympathy for the little guy.

Few drinks in Warsaw last night, now we’re setting off towards Lithuania, Latvia and The Russian Border.

Fingers crossed

We have fannied around in Germany far too long, sticking in our 4 man team with Sam and Joe. The Mere Mongol Mobile, Roop has broken down 3 times and has officially died

We held on for days, examining and probing the car and having it looked at and ‘repaired’ by Germany’s finest and most overpriced mechanics. The final verdict was given - “your car is very old and it’s f****d”. There is just no power left in that engine, we pressed on until it could barely push 10mph. It was too dangerous to keep on the road. We had to face the fact that it is irreparable. This was a depressing realisation so early on. Despite the obvious misery though, this trip has - for some unknown reason - actually been quite hilarious… hard to explain.

So what now? Well we have ordered some roof bars for Hilda (Car 2, The Field Mongol Mobile) and will soon be slamming all 4 of us with all our stuff into 1 car in order to soldier on. This is going work… honest. Time for some serious driving.

Rally on, The Mere Fongols!

By the way check our progress using our online Trident Sensors tracker. It is really quite awesome:

http://live.adventuretracking.com/meremongols

To start off with things were looking great. The send off had a brilliant vibe, and we made it to Calais with big smiles on our faces.

With less than 24 hours to get to the much-hyped Mongol Rally party in the Czech Republic we ploughed on into Europe long into the night, convoying strong with the Field Mongols. There were crappy rally cars left right and centre it was amazing! By about 4.30 in the morning we decided enough was enough and parked up at a German service station to catch some much needed z’s.

Waking up a couple of hours later it was Will’s turn to take the wheel. Unfortunately it would seem (strangely) that our banged up old Micra was not used to such intense constant driving, as 2 minutes later a puff of black smoke from the exhaust wiped the tired smiles clean off our faces.

Yes that is correct, day 2 and we had broken down. After a heroic tow job from Field Mongols Sam and Joe, we eventually decided we could not repair the poor over-worked vehicle.

Long story short; we are currently sat in a hostel in Cologne anxiously awaiting the good German mechanic folk of a Nissan garage in Linz to figure out what the hell is wrong with our car. It does at least start now…

We are told by a reliable source that we are by no means the only team who are doing this badly, although I can only assume we are miles and miles behind the main pack. we saw 1 team break down just outside Hyde Park, poor buggers. We are by no means giving up! The Mere and The Field are united and determined to soldier on together! Nothing to do now but drink away our sorrows and wait…

Right, here we go then, less than 24 hours until Rally Launch! After a hugely hectic 5-days of last minute preparation, packing and panic - we are finally ‘ready’ to embark on our epic voyage.

The car looks utterly awesome as you can see. Our fund raising meter has reached its target and is still climbing! We’ve got spares, we’ve got food, we’ve got gaffa tape. We’ve even got a sound-system! Special thanks to Ian Bannings in Guildford for hooking up our speakers and head-unit on the cheap in aid of the occasion. What very nice peeps. Further thanks to Dave ‘The Chief’ Dunglinson for looking over our motor. Even if it did break at one point, we’re confident your influence will aid in our victory.

For anyone we told about the tracker (allowing you all to see where we are at all times) we had an upset and found out thay GPS is illegal in Russia so we didn’t bother setting it up. We then found out this was a lie so we actually are going to bother. Or at least someone is. Eventually. This will hopefully one day be set up by the Egg, possibly with some help from webmaster Andy.

Right that’s it, nice knowing you all - we’ll try to update this bad-boy blog (thanks again to Andy for the set up) whenever we can.

Sweet,

Dave