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Diary w/e 27 August
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21st AugustWe wuz tired after our long drive yesterday. I woke up at 9 am, then again at 10.30. We had a nice view over the Great White Lake in the distance, though it was by no means warm when the sun went behind one of the many clouds. I slowly made breakfast (me 37, Rich 1 so far) and thought about how to lure him out of his warm sleeping bag. The answer appeared in the form of a couple of horsemen riding up the valley towards us in the distance. Rich instantly shot down from the tent and started to pack stuff away in the hope of getting away before they arrived. No chance. But we have the technique off to a fine art now - so after an initial greeting, we just went about our business of packing up while they sat and watched.. Then we wished them a cheery farewell and drove off down the valley towards the lake. It was a pretty lake, but not a patch on Hovsgol in general wow factor. It has lots of rather boring flat land around it - fine for camping (or building ger camps) but not really our cup of tea. The mountain backdrop was quite pleasant though. We were set on seeing our volcano. So we drove to the far (eastern) end of the lake and stopped in the village of Tariat for lunch. "Heuer Tsuivan" brought us what we needed, but as we forgot the "Innou", we got "massive" instead. We asked for coke and sprite and the lady shot next door to the shop to get them. They had a TV in the cafe and there was quite a gathering of locals in there sharing a beer between about 6 and watching a Jackie Chan DVD. Strange thing to be doing at Monday lunchtime. When it finished, they all trouped out and left us to our meal. The tomato and chilli ketchup (a standard condiment around here) added a bit of zest, but we could only manage about three quarters of the huge platefuls before we had to give in. We paid up (cheaper today - £2.20 for everything) and got back into the car to find our volcano. The first thing we had to do was get through the barrier into the National Park. There is an entrance fee of £1.50 each (pretty standard) and the entrance was through a barrier over a bridge across the river. There was a kiosk next to the barrier, but when we arrived it was empty. We stood there for a bit, tooted the horn and generally looked around trying to be obvious. We saw a little flurry of activity a few hundred yards away as a young lad saw us and raced across the street to the hut where the park attendant obviously lived. He dragged him over to the kiosk to take our money and let us in. The only problem was that the bloke was completely out of his mind (presumably the dreaded vodka again) so he struggled a bit with the paperwork. First of all he refused to take a 10,000 note though he clearly had a wallet full of change - I suspect he simply couldn't work out the numbers on how much change he would need to give us. Then he laboriously took out a pad of tickets and started to write on the top one, with a piece of carbon paper (inserted the wrong way up) underneath it. He just about managed to write "6000" in a very wobbly hand (pushing the pen through the paper) and thrust it at us. His friend appeared and helped him cope with it all, which was good. We took our receipt (complete with its own carbon copy on the back) and headed off quickly before things got more complicated. We drove over the bridge and into a completely strange landscape. The light brown sandy soil we had seen almost everywhere else was replaced by black volcanic ash and rocks - even the thin soil which appeared in patches here and there was nearly black. We drove for a couple of miles through this then saw a weird round shaped mound about 500 feet high. This was the volcano we had come to see. We drove around the base to a rudimentary car park where Rich thoughtfully reversed into a tree (no major damage done, just a hole poked in our spare wheel cover) then we looked up at the sky, donned our anoraks and strode up the hill. After a couple of hundred feet we saw a really neat little crater, about 100 feet across. I thought that was it, and offered to walk across to the other side (which was uphill) to give Rich a bit of scale on his photo of it. When I got to the top, I saw there was more path leading further up, so I went up it out of curiosity. I thought the top of the hill would probably be a bit of a disappointment after the rather nice little crater we had seen. Quite the reverse. When I got to the top I stopped amazed at the sight. This is not a particularly big volcano, but I nearly stumbled over the edge of a full scale crater in its centre - about 1.000 feet across and 500 to 750 feet deep. Rich couldn't resist climbing down to the bottom, to give some scale to my photos and also so he can truthfully claim to have climbed right to the bottom of the crater of a real volcano. As the thunder rumbled around, I helpfully shouted down to him not to make any loud noises for fear of triggering landslides (the walls were extremely steep). It was quite a relief to see him emerge safely again. For Google Earth fans, the crater in question can (according to Lonely Planet) be seen at 48º 10.921' N, 99º 51.543' E. I would imagine it looks either quite spectacular or completely undistinguished from the air. The rain had passed, but we decided we would make some distance towards the northwest border tonight before camping. So we drove along the supposedly "improved" road (this simply means that the potholes are bigger and made of harder material) for a couple of hours before spotting a nice Scottish style valley with a stream running down it which offered a good campsite. The only excitement on the way was another broken down truck by the road which we stopped at to see if we could help. We had clearly stumbled on a bit of a party - one bloke was completely unconscious by the roadside, one was staggering around blind drunk and the other two were trying to get things sorted out. We couldn't really make out what help they needed, and the aggressively drunk one started to be a bit of a pain, so the other guys gestured that it was probably best if we pushed on and let them sort themselves out - which we gladly did. By the evening we had climbed over an 8,000+ feet pass, and it is distinctly nippy up here, so we are putting on even more extra layers before snuggling down in our nice roof tent. So tonight we are mostly wishing it was a bit warmer, thinking of loud eruptions and enjoying being lulled to sleep by the gentle sound of the stream a few yards away from us. Hopefully it won't rain in the night - that would make the climb back up to the road rather "interesting". But we are gods of offroad driving and capable of taking all such challenges in our stride. Ha ha ha ha.... All at GPS ref 48º 18' 25.67" N, 98º 55' 07.91" E, altitude 2,262 metres. 22nd AugustRain in the night, and quite a chilly one too - the damp seemed to seep into everything. But the rain wasn't enough to make the slope too slippery for us to climb back to the road, thank goodness. On the road shortly after 11, and the road itself almost earned that title - not paved, but hard packed gravel which generally didn't have too many potholes for the first 30 or 40 miles. We overshot a turn by a couple of miles - the supposedly up to date map we bought in UB was anticipating reality a bit, and showed a bend in the improved road which was in fact a turn onto a very bumpy side track. We doubled back and found it, and disappeared up into a very secluded world of valleys, forests, streams and mountains. We came to one small village where we had a job to find the river crossing, then at the next pass we saw our first traffic of the day - a broken down lorry blocking the road altogether (with a steep drop on one side and a rock wall on the other). They had a leaky cooling system and were waiting for the engine to cool down before they refilled it with cold water. We helped them push it slightly to one side, giving us just enough room to get the Land Rover past it. At about 2.30 we rolled into Tosontseleg, a real "Dodge City" town where the main street was a wide dusty thoroughfare between two rows of shops and canteens. There was a weird mixture of hitching posts with horses tied up and jeeps and trucks parked at random around the place. We added to the general melee. We went into a cafe which was full of locals and ordered two goulash, which arrived very quickly with infinite free Mongolian tea, total cost £1.10 (the ketchup was a tin of tomato puree). We then went next door to a shop to buy soft drinks and the spooky voices made me buy chocolate again. Our next job was to try to find a mole wrench so we could clamp off the back brake lines as recommended by Liveridge to see if we could isolate the brake problem for certain as emanating from there. I drew a very bad picture of a mole wrench (the dictionary wasn't too helpful, with phrases such as "he has a small mole on the side of his nose") and then strolled over to an interested looking bloke on a motorbike and showed it to him, trying to ask where we could buy one. A small boy on a bike joined in the fun and got the idea. He led me to an ordinary looking food shop which had a car repair section at the back - but unfortunately the best they could offer me was an ordinary pair of pliers. So we wandered around a bit more and found a container with some more car parts in and though they didn't have a mole wrench, we were able to buy a couple of nuts and bolts and two metal plates which we could bolt together as an effective clamp. With this booty, we then went on a diesel hunt, and were surprised to find that in quite a large town there were about 5 fuel stations, but only the last one had any diesel - and as they were concreting their forecourt (there's progress) it wasn't possible to drive up to the pumps. So we bought 20 litres which were transferred from the hand-wound pump to our tank by a milk churn and funnel. I winced as I saw the sediment flowing into my fuel tank as they helpfully poured every last drop out of the churn. We stopped a mile or two outside town to apply our home-made clamp to the rear brake line, and also to check the front differential oil level (I had an idea one of our squeaks might be coming from there). Partial success - we clamped the rear brake line ok and found we now had wonderfully firm brakes (but of course only acting on the front wheels). This means that we are now sure the brake problem is caused by one or both of the rear callipers, and it also means that if we leave the clamp on (which we haven't) we can brake much more effectively but the car will also do a nice pirouette as the unbraked rear wheels overtake the braked front ones. Progress of a kind! On the other hand, the front differential oil level was fine (though its colour was something else!) Our next excitement was seeing the aftermath of a nasty looking accident - a Toyota Land Cruiser with a dazed looking bloke standing next to it. One tyre had clearly blown out and the car had rolled - the roof and windscreen were quite a mess. He didn't want any help, he said - in fact there was a tourist minivan already giving him a bit of a hand. So it is possible to crash even when there are no obstructions and no other traffic! (as we so nearly proved last week ourselves) We pressed on, and managed another unintended detour. As we were getting ourselves back on the right track, we saw a couple of western hitchhikers by the road. We stopped and offered them a lift, if they didn't mind being squeezed extremely uncomfortably into the back. They said they had been waiting for ten hours and we were only the third car to go past, so they weren't going to be fussy. And so we met Peter and Anna from Poland (we probably spelt their names wrong, sorry guys). They were trying to hitch to Hovsgol and our roads were the same for the next 30 miles or so. They were getting a bit desperate, so they were very happy to ride with us that far. In fact, when we looked at the map they decided they would ride with us a bit further - although it would not take them any closer to Hovsgol, it would at least put them in a proper village on a more major road, where they might get more than three cars a day coming through! So we pressed on a few more miles before finding a good spot to camp in a wide open valley next to a small river. There are lots of gers around and we have been visited about four times. The second visit was from a hunting party on horseback, with one of the group carrying an old bolt action sniper rifle across his back. They did the usual peering around the car, and I have a new technique of retaliatory peering around whatever mode of locomotion our visitors arrive on/in - so I had a good peer around their horses which resulted in me being invited to climb up and try a proper wooden Mongolian saddle for size. It wasn't actually as bad as I was expecting - it was quite comfortable, though it did feel rather precariously balanced on top of the horse. While I was complimenting them on their animals, one of their dogs was weeing on my clothes bag - Rich spotted it when it was too late and I then dashed with the bag down to the stream to empty it out and wash it off as best as I could. After the general laughter, they beat a hasty retreat out of embarrassment - which Rich regarded as a good result. I am not quite so sure... We shared a gloopy noodly tomatoey "meal" with Peter and Anna, comparing experiences. They have found hitchhiking in Mongolia quite hard - mainly due to the sparsity of traffic. There is also a custom of hitchers paying for their lifts. While Rich cooked, I changed the diesel fuel filters on the car - hopefully that will clear up some of the problems we have been having in getting it to start easily in the mornings. So tonight we are mostly stargazing again at another fabulous Mongolian night sky (we have seen satellites flying over again), and telling each other that it isn't quite as cold as last night, at GPS ref 49º 12' 02.52" N, 97º 54' 39.90" E, altitude 1,781 metres. Tomorrow we will pack our two unfortunate Poles into the back of the car again and ferry them another 30 or 40 miles up the road on our way towards the northwest frontier. Hopefully we will manage a bit more than today's 133 miles (including about 15 miles of detour). And we have a place to stay in Poland on our way back, which is nice. 23rd AugustNot the day we would have hoped for! It started well enough - a nice bright sunny morning and an early start (well, earlyish). We had a quick breakfast and loaded the car up with our stuff, along with Peter and Anna and their rucksacks. Then we cast around to find the track to the north west. We crossed a couple of rivers (the bridges were out so we waded - not too deep) and then we struck across country in the right direction to make sure we met the track somewhere. After a couple of miles of up hill and down dale (including zooming past a Mongolian lying in the grass above a lake with a rifle trained on something, fortunately not us) we struck a track that seemed to be heading in the right direction and it firmed up into the right track for us. We were cruising along gently when our first problem hit us. There was a very nasty noise from under the car and we lost all forward power - the engine was still running fine but no drive was reaching the wheels. We got out and could see there was a problem somewhere in the rear transmission and we suspected a broken half shaft (the half shafts are the big steel rods which connect the road wheels to the differentials at the front and back). That was potentially serious, but hopefully not fatal - we locked our centre differential and we were able to move forward again, but only with two wheel drive via the front wheels. We were only about 15 miles from where we were going to drop our Polish guests at this point, so we decided to push on slowly to the village, drop them off, pick up a few essential supplies and then stop a little way out into the country to have a good look - if we had stopped in the town, we would have had a crowd of about 100 around us in five minutes flat, picking through our toolkit, etc. The car was actually running ok (apart from the fact that it nearly didn't make it up a couple of steep hills with the two wheel drive) and it didn't seem too unhappy so in fact we pushed on for a good few miles beyond the town before we pulled over to have a look. That was when the day took a turn for the worse. We jacked up the back of the car (on the side with the dodgy brake calliper) and sure enough the wheel rotated freely when it should have been locked solid. This meant there was definitely a break in the transmission somewhere. This merely confirmed what we already knew. But then we realised that not only did the wheel rotate freely, it also wobbled alarmingly - you could easily wiggle it to and fro by about two or three inches by hand! This was not good news, and meant something much more serious. On the bright side, though, we were able to pull the half shaft out from the axle and see that it was not broken at all. The breakage was clearly somewhere else, perhaps a component that would cost less to courier out from the UK than a very heavy half shaft. We had the tools to take the wheel hub to pieces, but we were slightly nervous at what we might find inside, and since we were about 200 miles short of the first town with any real facilities and we could still limp along, we didn't want to get ourselves into a situation where we lost the ability to limp as a result of taking the hub to pieces. So we decided to wait until UK opening time and ring Liveridge for a bit of advice. By this time, a veritable crowd of Mongolians had appeared - some on motorbikes, some from some nearby gers (which we hadn't really spotted when we decided to stop), some on horses and some apparently from thin air. At one point we had at least ten people standing or sitting around our jacked up car, offering endless advice in incomprehensible Mongolian. There was a hilarious woman of about 40 who was quite obese, and was wrapped in a sort of leather jacket that was more akin to full body PVC shrink wrapping. This combined with non existent eyebrows (except for two small pencil lines) and a penchant for mechanics and roll up cigarettes was enough to start me worrying - well enough to warrant a mention in the diary anyway. We managed to get our message across that we were simply waiting until 9 am UK time to call an engineer for advice, and they were adamant that we were doomed to fail - mobile phones don't work anywhere near here. One bloke helpfully took our map and pointed out a high hill about 40 miles away - I think he was saying that on a good day you might get some mobile phone reception there. We finally got our message across that we had a sat phone so we could call from right there. When it became clear to the assembled company that there was going to be no further entertainment for about an hour, people started to drift off - which was a bit of a relief. One bloke had been quite insistent that we had a failed wheel bearing and he should start unbolting stuff straight away to get a repair under way - he took some dissuading, but finally gave in. These guys are worse than me, you have to hide your tools and lock them away, or they will have your car in pieces before you can say sinebineoo. We spoke to Rob at Liveridge and he reassured us that we were very unlikely to render the car completely undrivable by dismantling the wheel hub, and he gave us a few suggestions as to what to do (depending on what we found). The call had to be very short as our sat phone minutes are running out. So we went ahead and started to take the hub to pieces, at which point we received our next nasty surprise. Somehow or other, the main wheel hub nuts had both come loose, which was why the wheel was waving about. And one of them had been so mangled by the whole process that its interior thread was severely damaged and it would not screw back onto the stub axle. We were able to tighten the other nut easily and that solved the wheel wobble - to our surprise, it did not look as if the wheel bearings had failed (though we have a spare set of bearings, it is a tricky job to replace them, requiring either some special tools or some real expertise); but that still left us with a mangled second wheel nut, which simply wouldn't screw back on - and without it, the first nut would just come loose again in no time and the wheel would wobble worse and worse until the axle broke under the strain - then we really would be stuck. We also tracked down the reason for our loss of 4 wheel drive - another part (the drive flange, which connects the drive shaft to the actual wheel hub) had failed - this was not so bad, as we carry a spare for that. But the nut problem was still going to floor us. We tried to carve out the thread in the nut using Rich's AK47 bayonet - it is quite an impressive piece of steel, and was actually making an impression on the thread in the nut, but not enough - and then it made a much greater impression on my thumb (the bayonet did what it is designed to do - blood all over the place), at which point we decided to try something else (after a short first aid session - transmission oil and savlon wipes between them should hopefully have done a good enough cleaning job on a rather nasty cut). We called Liveridge back at this point, and they gave us some coarse engineering advice. They suggested we try making diagonal cuts across the half ruined thread inside the mangled nut with a hacksaw - that might provide enough purchase for the nut to wind back onto the axle and cut itself a new thread (the nut is purposely made of softer steel than the axle). If that failed, they said the last resort was to mangle the thread on the axle itself just outside the existing good hub nut with a hammer and cold chisel - that might keep that nut on, though there would need to be a fairly major repair when we get home. We weren't attracted to that option, so we got the hacksaw out. We took it in turns to cut slices out of our nut and kept trying to screw it back on. I hacksawed, Rich cooked supper. Then we ate. Then he hacksawed, I washed up. This went on for the best part of four hours. The sun was setting, I was getting the tent up etc and I was also getting pretty sure we were going to have to do the "mangling" option, when Rich managed to get our nice filigree nut to start biting a thread - I asked him how and he said "'it it wiv 'ammer" - another valuable lesson in the use of brute force applied carefully. Always works, just sometimes it takes more hits and a bigger hammer. I did also make artwork of the new 'thread' using our hacksaw, it was all shiny and neat, I almost didn't want to 'it it wiv 'ammer, but sense soon prevailed and I knocked the crap out of it. Dad actually cooked the nut in boiling water for a few minutes, the idea being to expand the thing by a tiny amount, perhaps just enough to get it on, but sadly it didn't work. Made the pasta taste funny, though... So as the twilight came on, we tightened the nut up (we think it is probably horribly cross-threaded, but it seems pretty tight - surely that was the point anyway) then we reinserted the drive shaft assembly with our new drive flange. The half shaft threaded satisfyingly into the hub and right through to the rear differential, where it felt as if it engaged properly. All the nuts and bolts were done up tight, we had no spare bits left over, and Rich was strutting around, very pleased with himself, saying endless "Sain Bain U"s (hello) to nobody in particular with a huge smug smile on his face. On meeting a Mongolian on a motorbike (the ones in Land Cruisers are generally moody):
1) Stare back at him (he will already have been staring at you for about 5 minutes). 2) Nod with perfected middle class frown. 3) Look for a nod in reply. 4) Say one of the following: - Ahh banoo - Sanbanoo - Mmmmmmmmmmbanoo
You get a huge range of variations wherever you go, so no-one will notice if you make something up.
5) Listen to the noises that he makes and pretend to understand by listing in any order the following facts: - Your destination for the day - Your destination tomorrow (margash = tomorrow - remember to roll your 'r's) - Your country of origin (Ich Britany = Great Britain) - The make of your vehicle (Lendrovr = Land Rover) - The fuel that your vehicle uses (deetzel = diesel/benzine = petrol)
6) This will satisfy in the majority of cases and you are free to go about your business, unless of course you happen to be in any sort of difficulty, in which case they will not leave until you have been helped, or you (somehow) convince them of your ability to solve the problem on your own. 7) Under no circumstances let them see/touch any tools, or you will need a tyre lever to get them off your stuff, and you will almost certainly be asked if you have a spanner of a certain size (width of the spanner in millimetres is written in the dirt). Spanners are worth their weight in gold and then some in a country where so few exist (in working order - yes even spanners break here) and so many are required. 8) It is polite to take a look over the motorbike or horse - of your new friend and be shown the various nuances and individualities of the particular machine (will only start after 5 minutes of kicking, lack of throttle, lack of hub nuts, lack of gaskets, backfires on overrun etc). 9) A polite wave with a reserved smile leaves both parties feeling respected and worthwhile - just like suburbia really. In between times, we also clamped off the rear brake line again - it was clearly the problem with the malfunctioning calliper that had caused our wheel to nearly disintegrate, and we would rather have four wheel drive and good front brakes than very spongy brakes on three wheels and a broken back axle! It was now properly dark, so we chucked all the gear into the car and headed up to the tent. In the morning, we will check the oil in the rear diff, then take a short test drive. If the repair holds up, we will then head on VERY carefully and slowly towards Olgiy, which is still the best part of 300 very difficult miles away. Having only covered about 80 miles today, that is still quite a big mountain to climb (and in the time we were driving and repairing today, only one car came along the road, so there isn't much useful help around), and it may all go horribly pear-shaped as soon as we start our test drive, but things are definitely looking rather more hopeful than they were just before sunset. And it is a lovely warm evening, so not so many layers in the sleeping bags tonight, which is nice. So tonight we are mainly basking in an aura of Rich Smug, whilst hoping our inelegant DIY repairs hold up tomorrow. All at GPS ref 49º 34' 41.37" N, 96º 47' 35.96" E, altitude 1,460 metres. 24th AugustWell, the DIY repairs did hold up, and we are very proud of ourselves. The threat of an early morning visitation from our neighbours to see how our repairs were going was enough to get Rich up and out of bed at the unheard of hour of 7.30. We agreed to defer breakfast until we had (hopefully) driven a short way and so we were away by 8 am. The fresh early-morning air made me giddy, it was so unfamiliar. Rich had earned the honour of test driving the repair. For the first 50 metres I ran alongside the car to keep an eye out for immediate major problems with the offending wheel. There were none. So I got in and Rich drove off gingerly (how apt). We covered about 20 miles with increasing confidence then we decided to stop after our first village to have breakfast and to jack up the back of the car and give the wheel a severe wiggling to see how it was bearing up, having tried unsuccessfully to get hold of a top up of diesel in the village.. The wheel seemed to be ok so after our shreddies/muesli we headed off again, me driving this time. In brief, we drove with increasing confidence in the reliability of the wheel. We took it in two hour shifts, aiming to catch up as much as possible of yesterday's lost mileage, whilst keeping our speed down to a sensible level in case our wheel literally suddenly fell off. Our main worry was fuel. We kept on meeting "Deetzel, niet" at every village we stopped at (for some reason, we must look Russian and that's the main second language in these parts, close to Russia). Everybody had petrol, but diesel was mysteriously absent everywhere. We came to the conclusion that this was because we are in the middle of nowhere, well away from the main trucking routes from the west to UB. We actually got to the point of stopping and pouring one of our precious 20 litre jerry cans of reserve diesel into the tank (to avoid the level getting too low, when we feared all sorts of sediment and rubbish might be sucked through to clog up the filters). And then suddenly, at a no-hope little shanty town we found a fuel station which had diesel - glory be, we filled up and refilled our rooftop reserve jerry can - 50 litres in all (at just over 1,000 Tugrugs, or 50p, per litre). The electricity was out or the motor on the pump wasn't working, so it was a hand pumping job, done for us by a motorcyclist who happened to be there to fill up as well, and spotted an opportunity. We gave him 500 Tugrugs for his trouble, with which he was well pleased. The part of Mongolia we were driving through was really off the beaten track - just to give you and idea, in the whole day (nearly 12 hours on the road - 245 miles) we met just 6 cars, 2 motorbikes and a railway carriage being towed on a makeshift trailer by an earth moving tractor (don't ask me why). So if we had broken down again, we would have been very much on our own... We went through about 5 villages in our day's driving, and to be honest none of them had a great deal to recommend them. This is obviously a very poor part of the country and our biggest bugbear was being accosted by drunks (at any time of day) when asking about fuel or food in a village. It's rather sad that many of the adult male population in the villages don't seem to have much to keep them occupied but a vodka bottle. And in this part of the country, they have a reputation for becoming aggressive and abusive when drunk, so we didn't want to hang around to see for ourselves. The countryside turned slowly from hilly (even mountainous) and well-watered to flat, dry and desert-like. The population thinned out noticeably - very few gers and herds about. The dust got everywhere - this was probably the worst day for dust we have had in Mongolia (even after the Gobi). We were slowly dropping in altitude, and heading towards "the Great Depression" in the north west of the country, about which I made so many jokes Rich started to get quite stroppy. We saw lots of huge birds of prey - I decided many of them were eagles, but Rich was generally very dismissive of this - perhaps not unreasonably, considering my knowledge of birds. Apart from the usual other animals, we also saw a small herd of Bactrian camels and a really weird little creature about the size of a fox, with what looked like a black and white stripey tail, which moved with something between a kangaroo's hop and a horse's gallop. Anyone know what that might have been? Then there were the eagles, of course... At one point, we spooked an eagle as we were driving past and it took off and stalked us from behind, circling back and forth and generally lining up to have a go at us - but it thought better of it. We had a very brief lunch of stale bread with various spreads and apple juice in the middle of a flat featureless plain. We were glad to get going again. Around late afternoon, we saw another huge set of sand dunes to our right (the north), marching down towards the small town of Zuungovi. We didn't go for a closer look because even with our resuscitated four wheel drive, the sand was too soft and we would have got bogged down. We were extremely pleased to have managed to repair the four wheel drive because there were three or four places on today's run where we would almost certainly have got stuck if we had been limited to two wheel drive - mostly steepish hills with loose gravel surfaces, but also a stretch of really deep soft sand near the dunes. We kept going and going and after seeing a glimpse of Mongolia's largest inland lake on the way past (Uvs Nuur, even bigger than Hovsgol, but very flat and boring, no mountains, and salt water - about five times saltier than the sea, apparently), finally rolled into Ulaangom at about 8.30 (but 7.30 local time - we have started to unwind our time difference), well pleased to have put 245 very testing miles under our belts, with the car standing up to everything we threw at it, with increasing confidence. We had decided that after more than a week of very dusty days on the road with no proper washing facilities, we could do with sprucing up a bit. So we drove into the centre of the town and checked in at a hotel which promised hot showers, en suite toilet, etc all for £10 a night all in for both of us (breakfast included, but don't hold your breath). Hot water in the shower was only available after 9pm, so we went out to eat at the Chinggis Khan Steak House down the road - no sign of the great Khan, and steak wasn't on the menu either. So Rich and I each had a rather good Goulash, washed down with our first beers for about a week. The only odd thing was that when we walked into the Restaurant, there was suddenly complete silence - it transpired the whole place was booked for a private party (something to do with a special birthday for a local doctor); but we were given a small private back room to ourselves, from which we could hear the rather nice party singing. I was also able to call Liveridge on the Mongolian mobile, and arrange for them to send our much-needed replacement brake calliper (and a few other bits and pieces) to Novosibirsk in Siberia to await our arrival there in about a week's time. Then we went back to the hotel for a good long shower, after which Rich played nurse and re-dressed my bayonet wound. It is healing nicely, and no sign of infection. I really must be more careful in future when playing with sharp implements. And by now, maybe the shower water has drained out of the bath... Mongolian plumbing is generally pretty average, and this hotel is no exception. So tonight we are mostly luxuriating in being clean again, at the hotel Uvs Nuur Tsogtsolbor in Ulaangom, at GPS ref 49º 58' 48.37" N, 92º 04' 01.90" E, altitude a very depressing 886 metres - the lowest we have been for about six weeks. 25th AugustOh, what a lazy day! When we woke up it was raining quite heavily from a grey overcast sky. We took advantage of our hotel breakfast (four slices of bread, two slices of sausage, some butter and a blob of red stuff resembling jam, along with a cup of black tea) and then braved the rain, after dropping off a load of really dirty laundry with reception. We were looking for the Border Patrol Office, to see if we could get any information about Mongolian permits we might need to head up the road towards the Russian border, and (if we were lucky) also about any permits which might be required from the Russians to drive through the area on the other side of the border. We had picked up some suggestion that if you were travelling the other way (i.e. towards Mongolia) some special Russian permit might be required, but we have not been able to find out anything about whether we will require permits to travel in the other direction. Let's hope we don't get turned back at the border - it's a week's drive back to UB! We found the Office, which was not open to the public, indeed it was under military guard. We stood in the rain at the gate and asked everyone we could see on the other side if they could give us any information - our tactic was to look as English as we could and say "Tsagannur, Rossya, permit?" until eventually someone came down to the gate from an office building to investigate us. We gave him the same line, showing him the Mongolian for "permit" in our dictionary, and he said "Tsagannur" - thus indicating (we think) that we need to enquire at Tsagannur (the last Mongolian town before you enter the border area). We obviously weren't going to get any information about Russian permit requirements, so we called it a day and trudged off on our next errand, which was to have a nose around the market. It was rather sad and boggy due to the rain, and we didn't stay long - just long enough to buy some dried fruit, butter and jam for our provisions store. We nosed around in the car salvage shops to see if we could see anything resembling a Land Rover brake calliper or wheel nut (ha ha) but without success. On the way back from the market, we dived into the post office to use the internet connection there. Our hearts sank when the sound of an old-fashioned modem jangled out and sure enough the connection was very slow indeed - it took a frustrating 30 minutes to read 3 emails and send a reply to one of them. We called it a day there. It was still raining and it was now time for lunch so we found a restaurant called "Big Mongol" (!) and decided to try it out. It was full when we walked in, but they showed us through to a back room which was like an indoor version of the Kushks we had used in Turkey (maybe the Muslim influence filtering east over the nearby border from Kazakhstan?) We sat on a raised carpeted platform and ate cross-legged from a low table. There we dined comfortably - indeed quite well, on a small tsuivan. We looked in on another car salvage place near the hotel, no joy on the wheel nut (but we did get another diesel fuel filter and Rich couldn't resist buying a couple of small electrical switches - goodness knows why). The man and woman running the store showed so much interest that we asked whether they wanted to look at the actual car, and they accepted enthusiastically. There then followed a brief admiration session in the drizzle. They were obviously real car people, and it was quite refreshing when they said something along the lines of "we've got wheel hub nuts for UAZ jeeps, but they won't fit your Land Rover so we won't try to sell them to you." Most Mongolians would have taken the view that a hub nut is a hub nut is a hub nut, and you'll probably be able to make it fit if you hit it hard enough, attack it with an angle grinder or weld it on. I need to check Rich has no Mongolian in his blood... By this time we felt we had exhausted the attractions of Ulaangom in the rain, so we retired to our hotel room to fiddle about - for me, this involved reading and sorting out some of the pictures for the website, for Rich it involved some serious sleep - as he pointed out, he got up at 7.30 yesterday and 8.30 today, so he needs to catch up! I enquired about our laundry, to get the answer that the rain had delayed the drying process. I said that was fine, we would pick it up later when we got back from eating - for some reason, that resulted in a pile of carefully folded damp washing being delivered to our room ten minutes later. We now have clothes hanging all round the room to dry, so the old chinese laundry feeling is reappearing. At least the rain has stopped. It was then time for dinner so off we trotted. As we walked out of the hotel, we saw the aftermath of a collision between a UAZ jeep and another car on the road right outside - strange we hadn't heard anything. The police were in attendance, measuring the road and generally looking officious (very similar to the accident scene I saw a few weeks ago in Kharkhorin). We struggled to see how a saloon car could have impaled itself sideways on the front of a jeep in the middle of a normal street, nowhere near a side turning. It will have to remain a mystery. But it is an interesting statistic that in about 7 weeks in Mongolia (total population around 2.5 million), I have seen the immediate aftermath of no less than four road accidents. That may be something to do with the fact that the rules for obtaining a driving licence legally are apparently so ludicrous that everyone simply "buys" one by bribing the relevant officials - I think Eamonn told us that the going rate was about US$60. And so to the Chingis Khan Steakhouse, to find we had the place pretty much to ourselves this evening. We both had beefburgers - and very tasty they were too. We also found out an odd thing (unless the waitress was having us on for some reason): in this province of Mongolia it is illegal to sell alcohol on the 25th day of the month. So no beer for us, we ended up with multi-fruit vitamin drink. She probably wasn't lying as the group of guys on the table next to us were all on the ice tea - the lack of vodka or beer being highly unusual for a group of Mongolian males. There was no reason to believe she was being funny as she was otherwise extremely helpful and friendly. I did see one bottle of vodka being served to the party of well dressed men in the 'function room', behind closed doors... And finally the saga of the spare parts continues. Because of delays at the supplier and the UK bank holiday on Monday, they won't get despatched from the UK until Tuesday - so they won't reach Russia until somewhere near the end of next week. After thinking about it a bit, we asked Rob at Liveridge to send them to the TNT depot in Ekaterinburg, to await our collection. That will mean we have a long drive through Siberia with less than 100% brakes - but we're used to that! We are now reasonably confident that our wheel won't let us down - if it can take 245 miles of Mongolian dirt tracks in a day, it should manage a couple of thousand miles on much smoother Russian roads, as long as we keep a careful eye on it. So our plan now is to drive round the mountains to Olgiy tomorrow (about 150 miles, so easy peasy) and spend a couple of days there. It is supposed to have a very different feel to it, with a strong Kazakh influence, and it is set in some rather nice mountainous territory (a couple of big ranges of mountains nearby with 4,000 metre peaks). We will brave the border control office there on Monday - it is supposed to have "helpful English-speaking staff" (though that remains to be seen, having tried to talk to them by phone today!) Then it will be full tilt to the border on Tuesday to try our luck at getting back into Russia. If that all goes well, it will still take us nearly a week to get to Ekaterinburg, by which time our spares should be there. So here we are again at the same place as last night, mostly looking forward to climbing back into our dust-covered car tomorrow in our nice (temporarily) clean clothes. 26th AugustToday we did wading. We didn't mean to or want to, it just turned out that way. After a rather late night reading and chatting, we woke up just as breakfast finished (9 am). We weren't bothered - four slices of stale bread etc doesn't exactly make you want to get out of bed. But to our surprise, as we were just rousing ourselves, there was a knock at the door at 9.30, and it was our breakfast being brought to us! I must try this more often (Rich is used to it, of course). No hot water in the taps this morning, so just a quick wash, then we started to lug our stuff down to the car. Everything ok there, and by 11 we were off and running. Just as we were leaving town, there was a big barrier across the road, with a kiosk marked "Police" next to it. There was a big white line on the road, so we pulled up and stopped, wondering what to expect. There was a chap (not in uniform) peering at us out of the kiosk window. I looked at him. He looked at me. I gave a sort of shrugging "what do I do now?" gesture, and he smiled broadly and made exactly the same gesture back at me. A car came from the other direction and he lifted the barrier just enough to let that car through, but not me. I assumed there was some kind of toll to pay (quite common around towns) so I got out of the car and walked towards him pulling my wallet out. I stood at the kiosk window and said (in my best loud English) "I suppose you want some money - what do we need to do to get through?" He looked at me again, gave me another broad grin, and gestured that we could move off. As I walked back to the car, he lifted the barrier for us and gave us a cheery wave as we drove through. What was that all about? He was just a bit of a **** really. The first 20 miles or so out of Ulaangom were weird - a really good quality tarmac road, going pretty much nowhere. Normal service was soon resumed, however, and we were bumping over dirt tracks - though, to be fair, they were not as bumpy or slow as some we have seen. We had about 190 miles to go to get to our target, Olgiy, and it looked on paper like a pretty straightforward day. We soon left the plain behind, climbing up into the mountains north west of Ulaangom, to find the pass through to the west. We saw snow-capped mountains (lots of them) and clearly there was some interesting weather happening to the north and west - but nothing to affect us too badly (it was really quite a pleasant day). We entered a fairly narrow pass and moved into another world. We were suddenly climbing up into a place apart, a place of huge empty valleys, big lakes (some salt, some fresh) and towering peaks in every direction. It was still a sunny warm day and the road was quite good. There was absolutely no traffic about again, and we started to really enjoy it. After a couple of hours of this, Rich said "I'm a hungry hippo", which I took as the cue to stop for lunch.. close to a huge salt lake As things were going so well, we had an extended sandwich break, and we also jacked up the back of the car to give our poorly wheel another test wiggle - it was fine. Then Rich spotted that one of our hand-whittled shock absorber bushes was starting to collapse, so we decided to whittle and fit replacements there and then - which we did. I also had a good session taking pictures of the many large birds of prey that were circling around above us and nearby. I still maintain they were eagles, Rich still says they weren't big enough. Someone will have to sort this out for us, once and for all. We saw some proper eagles around UB a few weeks ago, and they were BIG. So our lunch stop was well over an hour, then we set off again. We got a tiny bit lost on a couple of occasions as the track did unexpected things, but never lost more than a mile or two before we were back on course. Then we started descending from the mountains into the next large plain before our first destination, Tsaganuur. This was a really huge plain between two mountain ranges, and the terrain was really rough - lots of volcanic ash and stones, mixed in with patches of large shingle or gravel, as well as the usual dirt. There was one real obstacle to overcome, the river at the base of the valley. The road took some sharp bends on its way to the crossing point (no bridges here) and at some point or other we chose a wrong track so we ended up on smaller and smaller tracks heading into a thicket of scrub and small trees alongside the river. Eventually we were almost in the jungle, having to weave our way in between trees and large bushes of eucalyptus-like plants, and attempting to steer basically north to pick up the main trail again. The car was whipped and whacked by branches from all sides, and there are probably more than a few scratches and dents on the bodywork as a result - but eventually we escaped from the thicket and picked up what seemed to be the main track heading towards the river crossing. And then we saw the river close up for the first time. It was extremely full and fast, and clearly more than we could handle in the car - at least at the point we saw it. We also saw an apparently abandoned truck in the middle of the stream, clearly stranded in deep fast flowing water. That decided us that we needed to hunt up and down the river quite carefully to see if there were any viable places to ford it. We drove two or three miles along the bank, looking for likely spots, and even started to drive across once or twice (the river separated into three or four channels at various places, and we were hoping to find a place where we could tackle each channel in turn as a manageable river, without having to face a deep and fast section). We came across a ger with a group of people hanging around. We asked them whether it was possible to get across, and they pointed back down the way we had come, which they seemed to be saying was the only viable crossing point to get to Tsaganuur. So we headed back, looking even more closely at various possibilities, and liking them less and less. We finally arrived back where the truck was stranded, and now there were a couple of trucks on the other side of the river and a whole gang of blokes trying to get the thing out (with the usual gallery of interested spectators from nearby gers). We shouted and waved to get their attention and ask them if they knew where we could cross. Encouragingly (!) they indicated that this was the best place, and there was a route across which was a bit mazey, but possible. They threw stones to indicate the line to take (which encouragingly went right behind the stranded truck!) Then a horseman rode across from the other bank to show us more clearly - and that nearly put us off completely, because his horse was almost swimming for part of the way, across a very strong current. The bloke was in the water up to his thighs, so it all looked a bit of a "no thanks, we'll try again another day" situation. The only trouble was, the river was fed from the mountains to the north west and we couldn't tell whether it was likely to get better or worse if we waited for a day - or even two. So we plucked up our courage, Rich climbed onto the roof rack to get a better view of the depth of the water and shout instructions to me, and we plunged into the water. We made the crossing in three separate stages, taking a pause for breath and consideration on small gravel banks in the middle of the stream. We actually picked up one of the blokes on the last gravel bank - he had been wading around attaching a tow rope to the front of the truck, and he was numb with cold - the water was absolutely freezing (as I had found out earlier when I had waded across one channel to test it out). The water came to about halfway up the radiator of the car, but as far as we know, none got inside. We finally emerged on the other side, to be surrounded by the gang of blokes, all wanting to have a good look at this strange unknown vehicle which had coped so well with the crossing when their own huge truck had got stuck. And the good news is, none of them were drunk. So after a few quick congratulations, the obligatory inspection of the working bits under the car, and turning down our offer to try and help tow the truck out, they waved us on our way, merrily confirming we were now on the road to Tsaganuur. I do hope they have got that truck out by now! The rest of the valley up to the next pass was very wet - lots of deep puddles and even some more small rivers to cross, but nothing to compare with the big wade we had already done. Eventually we found the entrance to the narrow pass in the next range of mountains, and had a tortuous drive up the pass to Tsaganuur. On the way, we passed three or four big trucks which were obviously packed up with families and their possessions on their way to their winter quarters - there was a real nip in the air now (though the sun was still bright - indeed dazzling as we climbed the pass to the west). There were as many as 10 people perched on top of a huge pile of possessions (including complete dismantled gers and goodness knows what else) along with dogs and all sorts. Then there were generally about 6 people squeezed into the cab as well. They all waved enthusiastically at us as we passed, and we could see that they had rather different features from the Khalkh Mongolians who predominate in the rest of the country - here we are on the edge of Islam, and these were Kazakhs with much more Central Asian features. It is clearly the time of year when the mountains empty (a bit like a seaside resort at the end of the summer) and there were many more open spaces where you would expect to see gers, as well as people clearly in the process of dismantling their gers for migration. We finally reached Tsaganuur, and I have to admit it was a disappointment. It is extremely run down, decrepit even, and it is not clear why. Presumably the full independence from Russia in 1990/91 reduced the border traffic to a trickle and probably also shut down some factories, and we passed what seemed to be some kind of derelict military barracks as well - all very post-apocalyptic and "Mad Max" as Rich described it, although without Tina Turner - or Mel Gibson fighting a 7ft retarded guy with a midget on his shoulders in the 'Thunderdome'. You'll have to watch the movie now. We had been held up quite a lot by the river crossing and it was clear we would not be able to reach Olgiy tonight at any sensible time. So we had decided to camp somewhere around Tsaganuur and maybe eat in the town. When we saw the place, that plan changed rapidly and we sped through it, turning south towards Olgiy, as quick as we could. After about another five miles or so we pulled over about 50 yards off the main road on a broad flat valley (which probably held a few gers until very recently, but is currently deserted). We then broke out the pasta and drank a hot chocolate before retiring quickly up to the tent - not because of the insects (there are none to be seen) but because of the cold - autumn feels like it's already here, and we are quite glad to be heading off to the sunnier climes of Europe quite soon, though Olgiy sounds as if it will easily hold our interest for a day or two before we head back up this way again to the border. So tonight we are wearing everything we can inside our sleeping bags and looking forward to a short 30 mile jaunt into Olgiy in the morning (after our 160 miles today), at GPS reference 49º 27' 26.03" N, 89º 46' 33.16" E, altitude 2,080 metres. So we are now less than a quarter of the way round the world from Greenwich again! 27th AugustAnother day, another problem! But we are honing our practical mechanical skills to a razor-like edge! We were woken (well I was, anyway) by the slight scrabbling of tiny feet on the roof of the tent. Once again, the birds had decided we were a new rock, giving a good vantage point, and they were perching (and, if past experience is a guide, doing other bad things) on the flysheet of our tent. So I decided to get up and active to scare them off before we had a bird-poo splattered tent. We were still blessedly alone in the landscape, and the sun had just risen. It was a bright sunny day, to follow what had been a very cold night. Rich was still cocooned in his sleeping bag like a big green chrysalis, and only the threat that the birds might get his breakfast before he did got him up. We only had to do about 30 miles into Olgiy today, so the plan was to spend a bit of time doing some more maintenance under the car to see if we could get rid of any of the squeaks, clunks and nasty grinding noises that had been starting to appear. Gallons of grease went into the rear universal joints, the rear differential was found to be low on oil and was topped up, and then I started work on the front universal joints. That was when things started to take a turn for the worse. I found that the grease nipple (hehehe) was missing from one of the UJ's, and on investigating further, I found the UJ itself was very close to disintegration. It was amazing it had still been driving the front wheels. For those who know about such things, one pair of bearings in it had completely failed and been pretty much chewed away, along with a fair part of two of the fixing nuts which held the UJ onto the centre differential drive shaft. We clearly needed to change the UJ (luckily it was one of the spares we carry). Out came the workshop manual, and the toolkit. We needed to remove the whole front transmission shaft (eight very stiff and rather corroded bolts, including the two which had been badly damaged and were devils to shift) and then we had to extract the disintegrating UJ and replace it, before refitting the rebuilt transmission shaft and greasing everything properly. The job actually went quite smoothly, considering we had never done anything like it before and we were working on a groundsheet under the car in a virtual desert (rather than under a lifting ramp in a nice clean workshop). The AK47 bayonet came into its own again as a scribing tool - I really do think every self-respecting mechanic should have one of these incredibly versatile tools! This time it didn't bite me. In the middle of operations, a couple of Swiss motorcyclists rode up on their way to the Russian border and stopped to see what we were doing. One of them (Anas, I think) said he couldn't resist dropping in because he had owned a Land Rover in Switzerland and he recognised the car immediately. They were two months into a one year motorcycling expedition which was going to take them on to Kazakhstan, some of the other 'Stans and then on to India before they decide where to go next. They had sold up everything back home, given up their jobs and this was now their life for the next ten months - and maybe longer. We enjoyed a good chat and then they climbed back on their bikes and headed up the road towards the border. In the meantime, in the distraction I had managed to drop part of the new UJ onto the ground, where it had got covered in grit - not a great start in life for a bearing, so I had to spend quite a while cleaning out the gritty grease and making sure it was ok to fit. A lesson learned! Finally, after four hours of work (with not nearly so much swearing this time) I had finished refitting the transmission shaft and the job was done. In the meantime, Rich had changed the air filter, and was working out a revolutionary new way to pack the car. So two hours later, we were finally ready to try out our new transmission and the transformation from yesterday was extraordinary. Gone were all the ghastly squeaks, clonks and grinding noises (especially when using the engine as a brake, which caused really bad noises yesterday) and instead we could now hear all the other less threatening squeaks and rattles which are just part of the daily routine. It was a real pleasure, and the car hummed along happily. So today, it is my turn to be smug. We only rolled into Olgiy at around 5.30, far later than planned (it was only a fairly easy 30 mile drive from our campsite). All the car spare places seemed to be closed, so we will try to get what we need in the morning. We chose to book into a hotel recommended by Lonely Planet, and there we met a load of Swedes who are on some kind of adventure motorcycling trip - mind you, there doesn't seem to be much adventure involved as they are a gang of about 6 motorcyclists, with two Toyota Land Cruisers and a full support crew and spares kit following them around. I rather prefer our version, I think. Still, they were able to recommend a good restaurant to us, so we ate Turkish (of a sort) tonight. It was the cleanest and best looking restaurant we have seen since UB (possibly before) and though the food was not really authentic Turkish, it wasn't bad and the waitress understood English. So that is why we paid the exorbitant price of £4.40 for everything (including soft drinks). Olgiy itself seems a rather nice town. It is set in a lovely valley with snow-covered mountains not far off, and a big river runs through the centre of the town (with a substantial concrete bridge!) The people seem friendlier and less drunken that we have met for some time, and standards of building are definitely higher than, for example, Ulaangom. We will only see how good the facilities are tomorrow, but the signs are promising. OK the hotel's hot water isn't working (surprise, surprise) but the town's bathhouse was working so I went over there for a shower - 45p for all the hot water you want in your own private shower cubicle. There was quite a car park of UAZ jeeps outside, it seems that every self-respecting tourist driver takes a pit stop here as soon as he gets into town. There were a steady stream of local people also going in and out carrying bags with wash kit and change of clothes. Having doctored our sick car back to health and showered myself clean, I was on a maintenance roll, so a good beard trim followed, then we organised ourselves for tomorrow. Our plan is to get some fluids and other bits and pieces for the car, then go to the Border Protection Office to find out what we can about permits etc, both on this side and on the Russian side of the border. Then we will stock up at the shops, change the rest of our Togrogs into Euros (it is impossible to change Mongolian currency anywhere outside Mongolia, apparently) and make for the border. If we are lucky (?) we might even get through into Russia by tomorrow night. Who knows? So tonight we are sitting in the Duman Hotel, Olgiy (Room 101!), mostly contemplating the first day tomorrow of our long journey back home. GPS ref 48º 57' 56.91" N, 89º 58' 05.87" E, altitude 1,678 metres. |
