Tuesday 28 August 2012

Mongolia


I knew Mongolia was going to be tough. That was part of the appeal. Only part mind. For a long time I've wanted to come to the one of the few countries left in the world where a nomadic life is still a reality for a large chunk of the population. Let the man vs. Mongolia match begin.

First things first though. I have to get into the country. What I was most worried about at this border was that I was going to have to change nationality. The original plan was to do the entire trip as a Briton but I always had the option of becoming American in Mongolia since Americans don't need a visa. So I didn't bother getting a visa in London thinking I could always pick one up in Almaty. Then I didn't really have time so the choice was made for me. It just meant I was going to have to explain dual citizenship in Russian to what I had been led to believe were some of the most corrupt border guards in the world.

In reality they weren't in the least bit bothered. But it did take 7 hours to cross. And this is why.


All those cars are taking part in the Mongol rally. The rally is a charity event which takes place every year and involves driving massively unsuitable vehicles all the way to Ulaanbaatar and donating them to a NGO which then flogs them on eBay or whatever to make some cash. And there were a lot of them. And thanks to my famous early morning attitude they all got to the border post before me.

I exited Russia (despite having lost my entry customs declaration and then severely cocking up the exit form) and got to the Mongolian post just as all the border guards went to lunch. Of course. When they came back I had a hard time explaining that I was not part of the rally and didn't want to permanently import my bike. Eventually they got the message and let me through customs. But not before one of the customs guys offered to buy my bike and help me find a Russian one to continue my journey. Tempting, but no.

There was a town just outside the gates where I stopped to change some money. While I was there some guy came up and told me I had to come back to a 13th century latrine to buy insurance and road tax. Normally I am not a fan of insurance, particularly the kind that you get on borders. And in Mongolia it just doesn't make any sense at all since there is absolutely nothing to drive into and damage. But in this case it was actually useful. Later that day and for the first time since leaving the UK the police asked to see proof of insurance. So 10000 Trogdors* to avoid being 'fined' by the fuzz probably isn't bad.

*The Mongolian currency is called Tögrög but I never figured out how to pronouce that (it's not how you may think) so I've just been calling them Trogdors.

And finally, far later than hoped for, I was into Mongolia.

Round 1 goes to Mongolia's mighty bureaucratic left hook.



I had heard all the horror stories about the corrugations on Mongolian roads. And they are all true. Within 10km I was completely fed up and decided I needed to dart onto other tracks. This is where I got my first taste of navigation in Mongolia.


Fantastic. There are usually 10 or more tracks all going roughly parallel to each other. Sometime one or more of them will got off at a tangent. There are no road signs. You just have to know. Thankfully the GPS was still just about working so I knew I was going sort of in the right direction. But this is so much fun. You just take which ever track you like the look of. If it turns out you're on the wrong one you just drive in a straight line back to where you are meant to be.

When I say the GPS was working I use the word working in the most generous definition possible.


Thanks, Garmin. Where would I be without you. On the right road. Probably. Probably not.





Road signs are so unusual here I had to take a picture. At least it meant I was on the main road.




I could fill a library with the number of pictures I have taken here. I would love to publish all of them but know I can't. Even though I only got a few hours of riding in on that first day, by the end of it I was completely in love with Mongolia. Mongolia gets another point for being amazing.


Tarmac seems to exist in and sometimes for a few kilometres outside of big towns. Everything else is unpaved. At the edge of town it just kind of stops.






Don't really get much more Mongolian than this.
For the first 4 days I was by myself. It was very slow going but I loved every second of it. Well, most seconds. The corrugations were hideous. At one point I was going through a very wide valley. The bike was being torn to shreds by the vibrations. I could see some other traffic moving in the same direction as me but on a different track about 1km off to my right. So I stopped, turned 90 degrees, headed over to where they were and carried on. That track was just as bad.

There are two ways to cope with corrugations. The first is to go slowly. Very slowly. Most of the time going less than 20kph will avoid the worst of it. Of course at that speed it won't be long before the engine overheats and dies. So you have to go fast. Accelerating from a standstill is the worst bit but generally getting above 60kph allows the wheels to start skipping over the top. But at that sort of speed the back wheel slides all over the place when trying to corner. And when it is sandy it gets 10 times worse. I think I deserve a point for not crashing. Yeah, that seems fair.

You know what, I just don't care.










Water crossings are fun. But this one was just the weirdest one. This was at the edge of a massive valley. There were 2 lakes perhaps only 50 metres apart with a small stream draining one into the other. For reasons I have been unable to work out the road went straight through the stream rather than avoiding the lakes all together as it could have quite easily done. There was no room for the ford to expand sideways so the traffic created a hugely deep crossing. Still, at least I wasn't the only one who had trouble finding a safe place to cross.




The people away from the city are so friendly and curious. Pretty much everyone tried to wave me down for a chat. Sometimes I did stop but if I stopped for everyone then I would never have got anywhere.



Bridge? Yeah, right.









The religion in Mongolia is a sort of Buddhist/Shamanism combination. Every town and village, every the very small ones, have a shrine outside. And there are rock piles all along the road and on top of mountains.






Camping in Mongolia is better than anywhere else I have been. Because it is so open and empty everywhere is a potential camping spot. You can't really go wrong. But it does get really cold at night.




At one point I realised I was on the wrong track. The main road was about 3km away so I decided the best thing to do was ride in a straight line across the steppe to find it.


It had to happen eventually.



I have been carrying a puncture repair kit all the way from home but have not had to use it yet. It was only in Mongolia that I found out it doesn't work.

But I had the incredible good fortune of breaking down right next to a village. One of the guys rode out to see what was happening. He gave me a proper repair kit and even did all the work. I gave him 10000 Trogdors for his effort which he seemed quite happy with. Another 2 points for Mongolia - 1 for breaking my bike and another for providing someone to fix it.


Trucks break down all the time. This one had a split brake hose.
Wow. That's only 4 days.

In Altai I unexpectedly met up with some of the ralliers I knew from Russia and the border. Most of them were having problems of some sorts. A couple of the cars had been crashed or broken down beyond any hope of repair. A couple guys gave up and flew home. Others hitched a lift in other cars. One guy refused to give up so he went to the market and bought a brand new Chinese bike to complete the rally.






Mongol Rally graveyard.
The roads were so bad that I joined one of the convoys for the rest of the day. Turned out to be a good move.








Outside town I got another puncture. This time the tube was completely ripped so I had to use my spare. Good thing I brought one. Just hope nothing else goes wrong at the front.



After a while we realised we were on the wrong road. It wasn't a big deal since carrying on along this one we would still reach the same place eventually. But it was a problem for me since I wasn't carrying any spare fuel and I didn't have a big enough range to reach the next town. Worse, by the time we realised we were far enough away from the previous town that I couldn't make it back there either. Fortunately there is a good sense of camaraderie in the rally so they sorted me out with enough petrol and water to see me through. One thing they couldn't fix was the steering head bearing. It had started making a lot of noise. I wasn't carrying a spare and the only place I would have even the remotest chance of finding one was UB, still 800km away. I had no idea if it would last that long.

But by this point it was dark. They were eager to press on but I was not willing to ride at night so we said goodbye and I set up camp.

The next day I hit a problem. This.


A couple things. This picture doesn't show that there are actually 3 rivers to cross. It doesn't show the depth of the water or the strength of the current. I watched a couple of trucks struggle to get across. Fresh in my mind was the news that someone else had drowned their bike in a suspiciously similar river just a few days previously. I don't have good waterproofing on my luggage and could not risk a drop in the river. I was stuck. I couldn't go forward and turning around was not an option. If only there was another way.


There is a story floating around the internet about a guy driving a 2cv in the desert. When it breaks down far away from civilisation he breaks it apart and builds a motorcycle with nothing in the way of tools except for a very small, red loincloth. I considered claiming that I had turned my bike into a tractor but though people might not believe that. Unlike the 2cv thing which of course is completely plausible.

No, I had to be saved by a tractor wielding Mongolian. Mongolia is going to get a lot of points for this. I'm not doing too well here.





This was not a good morning. I was really fed up. This was day 6 of being on horrible roads. Everything that could hurt did hurt. I was cold and exhausted, the bike was falling apart. My only thought was getting to ??*&£!"%*?, the next town, where I could bribe someone into building me a proper meal and a cup of tea. It was only 100km or so. The roads were still terrible but I didn't care. I didn't really stop to take pictures, just went.

And it was just what I needed. A proper meal. Never have I been so grateful for mutton and cabbage. I fell into an internet cafe to find out where I could expect to find some tarmac.

Good news. I was 630km away from UB and the tarmac would start after only 200km more of dirt. Best news I have had in a while. I mean, I enjoy riding on dirt as a change from the norm but 1000km was really getting to me. So I set off with my moral greatly increased.

And even better I discovered that the steering bearing was not packing up. The noise was simply the metal ends of a bungee cord scratching the hell out of the tank. I am deducted several points for being an idiot and assuming the worst when confronted with a slightly unusual sound.

At the edge of town there was a police toll booth.

Police Officer: Where are you going?
M: Ulaan Baatar
PO: Arvaikheen?
M: Yes, first. Then UB.
PO: You want tarmac?
M: Excuse me? Did you just say tarmac?
PO: Yes, tarmac road.
M: There is a god. This is just what I need. It's almost too good to be true.
PO: 500 Trogdors, please.
M: Fine, fine. Anything. And it is good road all the way to Arvaikheen?
PO: Yes, yes. Very good asphalt.
M: Wait, I'm sure I've heard someone say that before somewhere....





Actually, it wasn't a big deal. The tarmac did run out after not very far but the dirt road was so much better than the previous days. It was very rough ground so it was slow going but not particularly challenging. There was lots of sand but surprisingly I had come to love sand by now.









By this point I was within the last few hundred km to UB. It was tarmac all the way from here. But something odd happened. After a little while of tarmac I was bored. I kept looking at the old dirt tracks next to the tarmac road and thinking I would much rather be on them. So I decided to take a short cut. For the purposes of this blog I shall define "short cut" to mean a road which covers a massively greater distance than the main one, goes in the wrong direction and ends up in a completely different part of the country. I mean, what could possibly go wrong.


That. Damn you, Mongolia. You win again. *shakes fist*


The change from grippy wet sand to not-grippy slimy mud was instantaneous and invisible. I hit a bump and couldn't keep my balance after. Had to happen sometime. Glad it happened here rather than around the corner where I would have ended up down a cliff.

As soon as I hit the ground the skies opened and I found myself in a hail storm. Then the thunder comes out and heavy rain. I tried to carry on but the road started going back down hill to even wetter ground. The rain was getting heavier and the GPS was warning about a river crossing up ahead. Not good news, I had to turn around and get back to the tarmac.






With the storms closing in on me I had to just go for it and do another 120km or so before I could take no more. I crashed (not literally) into a yurt for the night, first one of the trip.


The next day I decided to go on a little side trip to find the ruins of a monastery which were meant to be on a nearby mountain. I didn't exactly find them but the hills were very pretty.




And then it was only a short couple hours to get to UB. That place was a shock. I haven't done any city riding for weeks now. Out in the rest of Mongolia I would see only a handful of cars each day. In UB there were millions and every single one was trying to murder me. It took the best part of an hour to get across the city to the Oasis guesthouse. Here I discovered all the other bikers and 4x4s that I haven't been meeting on the road.

For now I will be taking a couple of days off here to relax, tidy up the bike and plan my next move in Russia.

Yeah, I enjoyed Mongolia. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I beat my single core netbook into cooperation and hacked together a video complete with cheesy epic action music.



Just need to examine the final scores.


Uh, wait a minute. That can't be right. I mean, the bike is only slightly more broken than it was 2 weeks ago. And I'm still alive. That has to count for something, right? 42 points seems fair.


So there we have it. I salute my worthy opponent. It was a good, long fight but I have emerged victorious with absolutely no cheating at all. What's that you say? You want a rematch? Yeah, I could probably be persuaded.