So we’d driven nearly 11,000 miles, crossed 17 borders and finally made it to Mongolia, all that was left was a joy ride to the finish line in Ulaabaataar, right?  Wrong!  We still had over 1,000 miles to go across what was said to be the toughest terrain of the entire journey.  Oh, and we had finally driven off the eastern part of the map we’d used since the Ukraine so all we had left was a hand-drawn map offered to us by the Mongol Rally organizers who had knowingly tried to set us off course on multiple occasions in the past.  Good luck!

2013.09.02 – Monday – It was 5 PM and the hours of daylight were winding to a close, but we were finally in Mongolia and eager to experience a little of the country we had driven so far to see.  As we initially set forth, we passed through an expansive valley saddled by small rolling hills on either side.   The roads were dirt, but they were fairly flat and smooth without many rocks.  With little to no development and sparse vegetation, we could truly appreciate the serenity of this vast portion of untouched land.

A unique aspect of the flat, untouched land is that whenever there’s an issue with the road, people just drive off and start their own new path.  After years of this behavior, the main road now frequently splits into sometimes five or even ten different smaller roads of varying levels of disarray before re-converging somewhere in the not-so-distant future.

It wasn’t long before the roads got more harrowing and we found ourselves ascending and descending some fairly steep ridges and navigating uneven ground.  Along one of the ascents, just past the city of Ulgii, we came across two local men hemming and hawing over a broken down car.  We stopped to see if we could offer some assistance and one man indicated that they needed oil.  We happily obliged and the man filled not only his car, but also a spare container.  After all of our missteps, we figured we could use some good karma, so we were glad to help.  By the time we got back on our way, the last of the light quickly escaped us and we soon found ourselves driving in the dark (which is a terrible idea in Mongolia).  In the next flat open expanse, we made our way as far right as we could (across several different “roads”) and stopped to set up camp.  Matt was shivering so much from the effects of a fever that he needed Ian’s help to get the tent up and then he immediately went to bed.  Left to his own devices, Ian made dinner and savored the excitement of our first night in Mongolia, before calling it a night as well.

2013.09.03 – Tuesday – The night was actually rather noisy as trucks continued to drive past our campsite at all hours (which is absolutely crazy given the condition of the roads).  We arose to get our first look around in the daylight and discovered we’d set up camp just off the road to some sort of refinery.

Matt was feeling better, so he took control of Jon Hay and the team set forth to put a large portion of Mongolia in the rear view.  The going was very slow however.  Roads were very uneven and riddled with rocks.  It wasn’t long before Jon Hay was once again dragging.  The bungee cord holding up the metal guard had finally given out.  It had a good run from midway through Kazakhstan.

Once Jon Hay was again armed with a new bungee cord, we pressed onward.  That lasted about one minute before the guard began dragging again.   In order to fit the bungee through the hole in the metal guard, we had bent a hook outward and apparently it had slipped loose.  The bungee was reapplied and the hook was then bent inward to avoid future issues.  We hit the road again with more sustained success than our previous effort.  It wasn’t long before Jon Hay crossed the 11,000-mile mark and we stopped to commemorate the moment.

The excitement and challenges were just beginning, however.  The next challenge: water.

Then we had goats…hundreds of them blocking the road.

So we thought we could get around them by driving through the mud.

But we couldn’t and we got stuck in the mud.

So Ian hopped out and pushed us out, getting more than his fair share of mud splattered on him in the process.  Jon Hay was fairly well decorated as well.

While Ian was brushing himself off, Matt checked on the bungee cord holding up the metal guard.  The good news: the metal guard was not dragging on the ground.  The bad news: it wasn’t dragging because it was entirely gone (bungee and all).  As was the second-to-last hub cap.

Jon Hay and Attila the Pun were a little lighter and a little less protected, but we were not to be deterred, so we forged onward towards the next imminent challenge.  It wasn’t long before various bodies of water obstructed our path.

The fun was just beginning though.  When there wasn’t water or mud, the roads were very dusty and littered with rocks.  We basically couldn’t ever roll down our windows because we would end up covered in some sort of filth.  This is when our air conditioner decided to give up the ghost.  Jon Hay became a virtual oven.  It got to the point where we would quickly roll down our windows and roll them right back up just to get a burst of cool air into the car without letting in too much dust.  The roads were dicey at best, some of the worst of the entire trip, and that’s saying a lot given the overall lack of quality in some of the other places we’d been.  The going was slow, we were averaging something like 15 MPH, but we were making our way when out of nowhere came a loud grinding noise.  Matt immediately pulled over and the grinding noise stopped.  We rolled forward a little more both with and without the engine and the grinding resumed both times.  We isolated the noise to the front left tire and decided to take a closer look.  We jacked up the car shockingly for the first time of the entire trip.  Matt had said he would be happy if we only had two flats throughout the trip and to this point we somehow hadn’t had any.  The nuts securing the rim were on quite tight, but we eventually got the tire off.  Low and behold, there was a rock the size of a pack of gum perfectly wedged in the axle that was grinding against the wheel assembly when the car moved.  We extracted the rock, reattached the tire, lowered that jack and were back on the road in a much more quieter fashion.

Back on the move, it wasn’t long before we came to the deepest water crossing yet.  There were even three local kids there to watch us make our way across.

It had taken us only a couple hours to travel the first 80 miles of Mongolian terrain the previous evening, but it took nearly eight hours to go the next 120 miles on our first full day in the country.  People certainly weren’t kidding about the the difficulty level of driving in the country.  Those 120 miles led us to the second major city of the country, a place called Khovd.  We paid a small toll to enter the city and were given a small official-looking piece of paper that we would presumably need later.  We stopped for gas and an ATM, which were both much more challenging endeavors than one would think.  The first gas station we found didn’t have an attendant and the “card readers” apparently weren’t meant for credit cards.  The second gas station was the same as the first.  What the heck?  How do people get gas in Mongolia?  We decided to venture off the main road to see what we could find a little deeper in the city.  The third gas station we found actually had other patrons and thankfully a couple attendants.  We filled up and asked the gas ladies where we might be able to get money.  They directed us towards a place that was apparently only a few blocks away.  We followed the directions and picked out a place with two big ATM signs outside.  We parked and headed in, but both of the ATMs were unplugged and clearly not operational.  There was a teller working there, so we asked her if we could withdraw money.  She looked at us not as if we were from another country, but more like we were from an entirely different planet.  They very certainly were in the business of collecting money, but clearly were not doling it back out.  They practically laughed us out of the building and directed us towards another bank.  We hopped back in the car and started heading the way they pointed.  It wasn’t very long, however, before it became abundantly clear that we were heading the wrong way down a one-way street.  We quickly turned off into some sort of street market and waited for an opportunity to pull back out and head the other direction.  While we were waiting, a man approached the car and opened Ian’s door and struck up a conversation.  To make things even more awkward, in mid conversation the man took a phone call and proceeded to just stand in the open door of our car while having an extensive talk on the phone.  We finally convinced him to step away from the car, shut the door and got back on our way.  The second bank was exactly the same as the first except they chose to forgo the whole non-operational ATM step.  And of course their only recommendation was to return to the first bank we’d visited.  Given the dearth of good options thus far, we decided that maybe this just wasn’t the town where we were supposed to get money, so we started to make our way back to the main road.  We were less than a block away from the bank when we passed a hotel with a huge ATM sign.  We hopped out and sure enough the hotel had a fully functioning ATM.  Why hadn’t the people at the bank directed us here?  And why did a man blatantly cut in front of us in line while we were waiting to withdraw money?  Some questions just don’t have good answers.  It had been quite the challenge, but we had accomplished what we’d set out to accomplish in Khovd and hit the road again.  There seemed to be two roads leaving the city, so we went to the first road which had another outpost similar to the one where we’d paid our toll to enter the city.  We handed the guy at the outpost the piece of paper we’d received earlier and asked if this was the road to Altai (the next major city).  He acknowledged that it was an asked to see our passports.  A nearby trucker, however, overheard the interaction and interjected that we actually wanted to take the other road.  The two Mongolians chatted briefly and they seemed to agree that the trucker was indeed correct.  We reclaimed the small piece of paper and were ready to head the other direction when the official continued to demand to see our passports.  Cool it, buddy, we’re not even going your way anymore.  He didn’t seem to care, so we showed him our passports and he sent us on our way.  We made our way over to the other exit road and the guy at the outpost there seemed like he couldn’t care less about us.  He didn’t want to see our paper or passports and just waved us out of the city.  It was a very unexpected response, especially given the other interaction we’d just had, but who’s to argue with things being easier than expected?  We probably should have known better after the whole Kyrgyzstan stamp issue, but oh well.  Whereas the roads into Khovd had been some of the worst of the trip, the road out was beautifully paved.  We drove out the entirety of the pavement and put another 100 miles behind us.  Night was setting in when we hit dirt roads again and decided to call it a night.  Between fixing bungees, pushing out of mud, extracting rocks from our axle, crossing multiple bodies of water and the antics of Khovd, it had been quite the day.

2013.09.04 – Wednesday – We awoke to find that our campsite was the object of much interest.  Our first visitors were a herd of camels followed by some cattle.  Our third guest was a shepherd on his horse.  As we were wont to do, we talked our way onto the horse for some pics.

Those certainly wouldn’t be our only visitors of the day either.  It wasn’t far down the road that we encountered another herd of camels just chilling by the side of the road.

The going, while still not smooth, was much better than the previous day.  We cleared the 180 remaining miles to Altai and, like after Khovd, we hit some nice paved roads leading out of the city.  After all the slow going on the dirt roads, when you get the chance to pick up a little speed on some paved roads, you certainly take advantage of the opportunity.  We were cruising along this raised highway at freeway speed when inexplicably and without any notification, the pavement ended and there was a gradual drop down to a dirt road.  It probably wasn’t anything to see, but in our minds it felt like we were one of those stunt cars flying through the air as we launched off the end of the pavement at somewhere around 70 MPH.  Fortunately the landing was smooth and there weren’t any hazards in the dirt road and we were quickly and seamlessly able to slow down to the appropriate speed for the given road.  Our hearts were racing a little, but otherwise we were still perfectly intact.  Well, we were perfectly intact for another hour or so until we heard a familiar dragging noise.  The problem was that the previous dragging noises had always been the result of our guard coming loose, but that guard was now lost in some Mongolian mud puddle and could no longer be the culprit.  What could it be this time?  We had a look under the car and found that our exhaust pipe had burst loose from it’s brackets.  It was once again time for a little brainstorming.  At this point in the rally we didn’t need an entirely fool-proof solution, but there were still 600 miles of potentially rugged road left between us and our final destination.  Our options were limited and none were very good, so we ultimately decided to use pieces of our clothes line to tie the pipe back in place.  Ian pulled the car so the front tires were propped up a bit giving him better access to slide under the car and jerry-rig the pipe back into place.

We’d traveled nearly 300 miles and were pretty worn out by the time we got Jon Hay back together, so we only traveled a little ways further before setting up camp in a fairly desolate area up on a hill.  We made dinner and were sitting around in our folding chairs chatting and admiring the Mongolian night sky when we noticed some headlights divert off the “main road” and start heading our way.  Was it another rally car?  What was going on?  The car pulled right up next to us, then without stopping did a U-turn and headed back to the road.  Whatever they were looking for, we weren’t it.

2013.09.05 – Thursday – Two full days in and we were already half way across Mongolia.  We were told to expect 5-7 days, so we either were making good time or there were many perils remaining between us and Ulaanbaatar.  Only time would tell.  We packed up camp and set off to find out exactly what sort of excitement was yet to come.

Excitement came hitting us pretty hard that morning.  We were cruising along and came across another portion of elevated paved roads.  Unlike the previous paved portion (where we’d launched Jon Hay through the air), this paved section was in much poorer shape.  The drainage was clearly not very good and water had worn some pretty serious trenches into the asphalt.  Additionally, a thin layer of dust had blown across and covered the road.  This all came to a head when Jon Hay found herself headed towards one of those pretty serious trenches.  When we swerved to avoid the trench, the car’s back wheels began to slide on the layer of dust.  We corrected back the other way and the tires began to slide again in the opposite direction.  This happened three or four times, with Jon Hay skidding from one side of the road to the other, seemingly destined for a date with one of the ditches on either side.  Ultimately the car stalled out and ended up in a 180 degree tailspin that allowed us to finally slam on the breaks and come to a dramatic but safe stop.  The whole event was a little stirring so we got out to catch our breath and capture the moment.

Once we’d recovered our whits, we got back in motion, but we didn’t make it far before we were greeted by another dragging noise.  The heat of our exhaust pipe had literally melted the clothes line that had held it up.  With a true lack of other options, we again positioned the car so Ian could sneak underneath and use another length of clothesline to tie the pipe back in place again.

Despite Ian’s thumbs up, we didn’t even make it a mile this time before the clothesline melted and the exhaust pipe was again dragging.  We decided to let the car cool down a little before giving it another shot.  Ian was just about to head under the car when a van pulled up and offered to help.  The group called themselves The Goodfellas and had driven from Italy doing something that they called the “Mongol Charity Rally”, which was a separate event, but had led them to overlap with many teams from our rally.

Fortunately The Goodfellas had some metal wire that would potentially be able to withstand the heat of the exhaust pipe.  We used the wire to tie the exhaust back in place and thanked them for their generosity.  The Goodfellas set off while we were still packing up, but we weren’t too far behind when we got going as well.  Despite this, they must have taken a different route on one of the road splits because we somehow never crossed paths again.  The wire, however, held up beautifully and we made great progress through Bayankhongor and on towards Arvaikheer, the last city before Ulaanbaatar.  The roads into Arvaikheer were pretty brutal, with giant rocks and potholes, but, per usual, the roads out of the city were once again nicely paved.  We were just getting comfortable with our smooth sailing when the dragging noise started again.  Again!  How many dragging noises can you have in one country?  We looked under the car and, to our surprise, the exhaust pipe was still where it should be.  The casing around the exhaust pipe, however, had come loose and was dragging on the ground.  After a very minimal debate, we decided to just remove the covering entirely.  That’s how Exhaust Cover came to join Fan and others riding with us inside the cabin of the car.

Back on the road, it became clear that the entirety of the road between Arvaikheer and Ulaanbaatar was paved (though frequently still pockmarked with potholes).  By late afternoon we were within striking distance of the finish line, that wonderfully elusive target was almost within our grasp at 120 miles away.  There were signs for Ulaanbaatar everywhere and even tourist destinations where people could take trips from the capital city to ride camels or spend a night out in the country.  It was so close we could almost taste it.  We’d driven well into the night many a time throughout our journey, but this time we decided not to.  It would be fun to have one last night out in the wilderness together, which would also allow us to show up to the finish line in the light of day.  We set up camp and had a mini celebration (including more Ramen than any two men should ever consume in one sitting).

2013.09.06 – Friday – The next morning was full of excitement.  The day we descended upon the finish line had finally arrived.  All the creeping worries about whether or not we would actually make it all the way to Ulaanbaatar were all but gone.  It was with great excitement that we traded in our track suits for suits of a little more class.

We dressed in our very best for the first time since the morning of the Bodiam Castle launch party in southern England nearly eight weeks prior, and set out to complete our mission.  Only 120 miles of potholed but paved roads remained between us and the Chinggis Khaan Hotel Finish Line.  Some milestones however still remained.  About 40 miles outside of Ulaanbaatar we passed the 12,000-mile mark for the trip.  We’d had our ups and downs, but Jon Hay hung in there through it all.  Shortly thereafter we crossed the 12,013-mile mark, and stopped to snap a picture because our trip distance had flipped back to 0 after 10,000 miles and now read 2013, the year of our journey.

And then a crazy thing happened.  Open expanses of grass and brush gave way to homes and shops.  Herds of camels were replaced by actual pedestrians.  The open road became a congested city street.  We had entered Ulaanbaatar!  It wasn’t necessarily pretty with stop-and-go traffic leading us into a cloud of smog, but we had arrived in our destination city and no one could take that away from us!  Of course we had no idea where we were going within the city, but we were there.  We again were following a hand-drawn map given to us by the organizers of the Mongol Rally that only showed about an 8-block by 8-block portion of the massive city (Ulaanbaatar felt comparable to a US city in size).  We stuck to the main road for what seemed like hours, but was probably only 30-45 minutes.  And then we saw it.  A landmark that matched a location on the hand-drawn map.  A couple quick turns and within minutes we were pulling into the parking lot of the Chinggis Khaan Hotel.  The finish-line banners rose majestically above us.  Eight weeks of ups and down, ridges and potholes, stops and starts had all lead us here.  We made it.