Ulaanbaatar, Aug 27

After packing up from the most windy night ever we go check out some monks chanting in the temple before hitting the road towards Ulaanbaatar, only a few hundred km away now! As we are turning from the detour road back onto the main track, like magic, the Canadians go flying by in the Suzuki followed by the ambulance who is also carrying the guys from the other Peugeot! The original convoy is united for the finishing stretch. The other Peugeot finally died, not because of the assumed dead ECU, but because they hit a rock so hard it bent the oil pan up and tore the oil pump off, breaking the flange on the block. Smooth sailing into Ulaanbaatar, including driving through the city at rush hour on a Friday (craziest driving of the trip), and we arrive at the finishing line. Beers and trading stories with other teams filled the evening. It turns out that the Fiat from a few days ago, while driving a few hours out of Ulaanbaatar with an ambulance, saw a car violently roll off the road, throwing a man and women from the car, two kids were inside. The kids were fine, but the man and women were in bad shape. None of the guys had any first aid training, but as there is no real emergency services in Mongolia, they used the stretcher to load the man into the ambulance and put the women into another rally teams van (van showed up after the crash) and took them to the hospital. Sadly, the man died on the way, and the woman was not doing well with severe head injuries. In the end a half dozen rally teams stopped to help (every team that drove by), a prefect example of the quality of the guys and girls that we have travelled with.

The old capital

Harhorin, Aug 26

In the morning she has attracted some locals so we mime broken axle and welding to them and they are able to confirm that we are about 10 km from someone who can fix us up. Somehow the hub stays on for the last gut-wrenching few km into the local mechanic. It is broken so badly we will have to completely remove it from the car for him to weld it. A few hours later we have the axle out, welded up (and splinted using metal from the roof rack) and back in the car. Very happy to see the Pale Horse back on the road, we head off. On the way out of town we find the Danes ambulance with the remaining 5 people in it the loaded in the back of a truck headed for Ulaanbaatar. Today we took a slight detour to Harhorin, the old capital city of the Mongol Empire. It was only in use for a brief period of time before the capital was moved to Beijing. After the capital was moved the city declined until it was destroyed by the Manchurians, however they left the monastery intact, which is one of the must see temples in Mongolia. However the Soviets, destroyed most of the temple buildings, and killed of the monks. Now a few temples remain, and an odd cock rock placed on the “vagina slope“ to stop temptation in monks. All that remains of the city is a turtle rock, which marked the gates of the city. The turtle is a Mongolian symbol for eternity . Someone decided that we should camp on the very top of a big hill overlooking the city. The view was great, but the wind was even better - not the best sleep we have had.

The Breakdown

Animated version of our breakdown:
A mere 400kms from the finish line, Genghis Khanada suffered what can only be described as a nearly catastrophic breakdown. While driving with what Bret described as a lead foot and Chris called a pillow foot (can’t please anyone!), Jared felt the reigns of our trusty steed veer violently to the left. The Pale Pony’s nostrils roared with flames and she bellowed at the top of her lungs in agony, begging us to pull over. After a close inspection we discovered the cause of our ride’s pain… An injury that would have most teams graciously bowing out of the competition. But a broken axel and crooked wheel weren’t going to keep us down; plus our beautiful beast promised us that she could make it to the nearest welder, a measly 40kms away, on the one-inch section of metal remaining. So with the light fading andour maps promising asphalt soon, Chris took the keys away from Jared and limped on… into the darkness.

Or more accurately:
About 40km from Arvayheer Jerry pulls the car over thinking there is a flat or some problem with the steering. By the tilt to our rear left tire we know something is wrong. Broken rear axle, no one is terribly surprised. Of the approximately 12 inches of metal attaching the hub to the axle, about 4 remain. On the upside, a few km down the road is the first stretch of asphalt we have seen since leaving Russia. We decide to try and nurse it, hoping for a welder in town. Bret and the spare fuel go in the Peugeot, the spares on the hood and Chris is given the task of turtling it into town. It takes a couple of hours to make 30km and there is about 1.25in of the original 12 holding the hub onto the axle. The wheel is at a good 25deg tilt. By now it is getting late so we park the Pale Horse on the highway shoulder and camp next to her.

Arvayheer, Aug 25

Our camp was in quite a nice spot if not for the pack of dogs that barked and scrapped all night long; however, we had planned on an early morning in the hot springs regardless. All excited about the hot springs following a cold nights sleep we pack up and head on down to find the little tub-holding gers remain locked. Asking around we finally find someone who speaks a bit of English and he shows us to a building where we are to shower. Assuming the shower is the prerequisite to the tub we hop in, hop out and stare at the lady in charge with the hope that she will give us a key and point us to a ger-tub. What we get us a bunch of ackward laughter. We stand there for a while and the staff ignores us. We try desperately to communicate that we wish to get in the ger-tubs but they say no, even when we offer money. Eventually we leave with the impression that the ger-tubs are either privately owned or out of season. We were supposed to spend an hour in the spring water showers. On the way out we run into some guys in a Fiat that wont run, likely plagued by fuel problems. We try and help, but locals (who all seem to be able to ‘fix’ cars) are in control so we leave them to it, but it doesn’t look promising for the little Fiat. A couple hours of driving and we are out of the hot springs detour and back on track. On the main road we run into a bus at the gas station and packed inside with 16 other Mongolians is one of the Danes from the ambulance that had pulled water into the engine at our last river crossing. Apparently it never did fire up and they are having to get it towed to Ulaanbaatar. Farther down the road the Peugeot’s (team Signature) oil pressure light goes off. Earlier in the trip their plastic dipstick tip broke off and has been floating around in their oil pan; we fear that it has plugged up the strainer in the pan. Planning on an oil change at first chance we carry on. Pale horse blows the rear tire that we just had a tube put in and we are down to 2 crappy spares. While we are changing the tire we see the previously dead Fiat driving by on the adjacent ridge!

Shargaijluut hot springs near Bayanhongor, Aug 24

We have a bottle of tire-weld in the hatch so we decide to use it on the front tire that flatted over night. Unfortunately it had been punctured already and did a great job of sealing up all of our tools… On goes the other tubed tire. We spend half the day flying through some really cool desert roads, finally coming upon a small community on a river. Danish teams in a car and an ambulance that we have shared a beer with before are on the other side of the river. Unfortunately the ambulance, which has 2 teams (6 people) in it after the death of one teams van, has pulled some water into the cylinders during the river crossing and wont start. The Pale Horse and Peugeot make the river crossing without an issue. We offer our help to the ambulance but there is little we can do. A quick bath in the river and we are on our way again, making Bayanhongor in good time, refuel, and head on up the road to the hot springs. The road pulls the rivets out of the last two good roof rack feet - there is no reason for it to still be on the roof - another ratchet strap goes on. We also realize that the latch on the hatch has been torn out, explaining the increased amount of dust in the car, so we wrap a bungee cord around it and call it fixed for now. We arrive at the Soviet relic hotels and hot springs around 6 only to find that they have already closed for the day. The hot springs consist of hundreds of tiny springs that seep out of the side of a bank. The water is then fed into little gers that have some sort of tub inside. As the springs supposedly open at 7am, we decide to camp nearby, just up the hill from the local ger camp, and try the springs in the morning. We get word that the rest of the original convoy (Peugeot#2, ambulance and Suzuki) has made some progress and is on track, however the Suzuki has a broken engine mount and they are in Altay having a new one bent up (the Mongolians are really good at that kind of thing). The broken Suzuki Ignis is bitter sweet for us as it is comparatively a monster truck that has a 1.3L engine, ground clearance and new Pirelli tires. We expect to see them at the finish, but reviving the convoy has become very unlikely as this puts them at least 2 days behind us.

Past Altai but kinda lost, Aug 23

We say goodbye to the local camels and head to Altay with the Peugeot and the other Micra which shreds another tire (last spare) on the way. At a mechanic’s shop in Altai we get a tube put in one of our flat tires and find another flat tire in the town that we have a tube put in so we are back to 3 spares - although all of our tires are looking pretty shabby now. We leave the other Micra behind as it needs to have some suspension work done. As we hit the road out of town headed for Bayanhonger we lose our rear bumper and notice that only 2 out of 4 feet remain on the roof rack so we throw a ratchet strap on the rack and strap the bumper to the roof to get back on the road. A couple hours later our compasses convince us that we must have taken the wrong dirt track…. something that is actually hard to avoid. The Mongolians will only use a grader to shape a road in this country if absolutely necessary, in the flats there are only the tracks left by those before you. If the road gets rutted out it is better to just make a new track - which everyone does .In the end you have a 20 lane highway except the lanes can be miles apart, making it really hard to distinguish intersections from parallel tracks. After a while some locals say that we can continue on this road and end up where we want to be. We plug out into the heart of the Gobi desert armed with our wits and compasses. Just as the sun goes down we loose track of team Signature (Peugeot) and assume that they have taken a different road by accident. We back track and drive the paths that they were likely on, to no avail, then decide to drive to a good view point and turn on the lights. Magically, as we do, we see the another car driving up a ridgeline miles away, get to the top and turn their lights on. A bit of Morse code and a telephoto camera confirm we have found each other. The day is called there. In the morning we feel that we now have a good idea of where we are in the desert, unfortunately we also have a flat front tire.

120 km short of Altay, Aug 22

We leave Hovd, headed for Altay, still no sign or word from the rest of our convoy. The road is flat and straight, allowing you to do high speeds, but big rocks and impossibly bad washboard make it really hard on the car. Through the day we shredded both back tires, one by Jared and one by Bret, then found one of our spares has a screw in it but it still holds some air. We have to fill it up every hour or so. Near the end of the day our rear bumper, which had been abused the whole trip with such a heavy back end and blown dampers, almost gives in and the hatch has picked up a good rattle. Throughout the day we were leapfrogging a pile of other cars and ambulances who were all fixing or towing broken vehicles. After a long day of driving we set up camp with team signature in the Peugeot, another Micra that is barely alive, and a big herd of camels. Somehow the Peugeot is still in good condition.

Hovd, Aug 21

A breakfast of tea and biscuits and we leave Tsagaannur, headed for Olgiy, the first decent sized town since entering Mongolia, where we hope to meet up with the rest of the convoy. Unfortunately we cant get through to any of their phones; feeling they are likely ahead of us we press on as a two car convoy. On the road we meet a bunch of other teams, crossed a few ponds and rivers, climbed a few passes and had a great day. We pitched our tents at a ger (AKA yurt) camp on the edge of Hovd. Today the Pale Horse performed beautifully, outclassing all the other cars in the field. We finished the day with some drinks and dinner in one of the gers with a half dozen other teams, including a fire truck that is on a mission to circumnavigate the globe. Looking for them in next years Guinness Book of World Records. After a great sleep we set off for a big day, hoping to make it to Altay, about 450km down the road.

Mongolian House, Aug 20

First thing in the morning we put the car in line at the border as, between teams that arrived in the night and through the morning, there were over 20 rally cars, some other cars and a half dozen tour busses all trying to get through this little crossing. we got out of Russia smoothly, taking only a few hours. There is about 20km of driving between the Russian and Mongolian border crossing. Fittingly enough, at the point where they say you have entered Mongolia, the asphalt disappears. On the Mongolian side of the crossing we find, in addition to the teams that entered with us this morning, a half dozen teams that had to wait overnight. We thought for sure that we would be spending a night there as well, but at around 7:00 after a day of kicking balls around a parking lot we get through with one of the Peugeot teams. It looks like the rest of the convoy will also get through tonight so we head out to set up camp before dark. The road dead ends us at a gate for a massive double walled fence just outside of Tsagaannur. About this time a local guy invites us over to his house where his family feeds us a mutton dish and local beer and vodka, entertains us with vodka fueled music and dance, then gives us a warm place to sleep for about $15. The only downside is that we have lost the rest of the convoy.

Russian-Mongol Border, Aug 19

More Pictures!