Let us give thanks

First, we must thank the guy who put in more time than anyone else and made the most obvious impact on Polly Skoda: Graham of Signteam, Broxted End near Stansted. Graham started by making a red Skoda Felicia look like a rally car and then put up with our multiple and regular requests to add details of a sponsor. He also had the idea of selling names on the car for £10 a pop, and suffered us coming in again and again to ask for another two, three or ten name stickers. Graham, thank you a million times over for your time and patience. We owe you mate!

 Polly Skoda was in a pretty poor state mechanically when we collected her, but, with Ruari's time and expertise and help from Hayes Garage in Little Clacton, she left in excellent heart, with the possible unnoticed worn alternator brushes. Her modifications were 14" (Volkswagen) wheels, fitted with 80 section tyres, giving wickedly high gearing and making the speedometer/odometer readings incorrect. A snorkel was fitted, which, in test, gave amazing deep water ability, combined with silicone sealing of the electrics. However, we removed the link between the air box and the tube as a temporary measure, as there was a serious loss of power when it was connected. We then lost the connector, so it was finally all for show and made no difference at all. A sump-guard and tank-guard were totally necessary additions, without which we would never have finished. Oddly, the most grounding we did was not on the off-road sections in Mongolia, but on the abysmal tarmacadam of the Ukraine. Also we had a grossly oversized roof-rack and a pair of jerry cans mounted over the rear window which, if nothing else, gave her individuality!

For fabrication we are indebted to Howe Engineering, Michael Watson, Robert and Malcolm.

Food: well, we really scored here: we had gourmet eating all the way, with packeted meals from ‘Look what we found’. This does not require refrigeration and is simply the ingredients of a meal hermetically sealed in a packet and cooked. It’s highly recommended for anyone who wants ease of catering. It is not only good at home, but for campers, caravanners and backpackers. We found that on a long day, you didn’t even have to heat it up on the stove: we tied it round the cooling pipes on the car and it was hot when we stopped to camp!

Eat Natural gave us nutty bars, which were really great for those moments when we felt the tiredness coming over us. Really tasty too, though I don’t suggest them for trekking across the desert, because at 40-42 degrees, the chocolate or yoghurt that binds them is better designed for drinking than for binding! We managed to get the last few back into some sort of shape before presenting them to CNCF!

We also took loads of Walker’s Shortbread, which was popular wherever we went – as bribes, comfort food for ourselves and making friends.

I don’t really know where to put The Butcher’s Arms in all this, but you helped us raise money – very necessary to the whole scheme of things – and to have a cracking send-off. Not only these, but we hope to take you up on the Welcome Home Party when you have the new bar up and running. Looking forward to it folks!

And finally we owe thanks to all who helped in terms of helpful and positive ideas; those who said “you’ll never make it” because following that we just had to give it a go; those who gave money toward the trip and most of all, those who gave to the charities and those who are still giving. Without you there wouldn’t have been a point, just an adventure – and what an adventure!

Memories, memories

Well there you are: we've been and gone and done it. Now we have memories, many of which never got onto the blog thingie, either because my thumb gave up the struggle when texting, or because the mobile signal wasn't up to it - or simply because the tracks were so xxxing bumpy that it wasn't possible to make the thumb make contact with the right button on the phone!

Many people said that a father and son would lose it at some stage in proceedings and never talk to one another again. Well, that never happened and we are still the best of friends. We know each other that little bit better and I promise I won't tease him any more about the Russian crumpet who sat on his lap and tried so hard to sell him an exotic massage - or.... no, I'm not telling!

July 18th: Mileage 14186. We met at Goodwood with a large and motley crowd of rallyists to collect our paperwork, instructions and have a generally jolly time. The day was perfect and the entertainment was, to say the least, jolly. There was Mongolian wrestling to make up for missing the Naidan, which was being held at the other end of the run at just this time - no chance to get there in time for it then! Also music and general jollity. We were seen off by Lucinda, Sue and John, just to make sure that we actually left, which we duly did in a long and mostly stationary queue. We were led round the old racing circuit by the Rolls Royce course car at a very stately pace. Perhaps a couple more course cars would have been a good idea to avoid the back-up of people who had ferries or trains to catch - needn't even be Rolls Royces!

We headed off, thinking that we had loads of time and taking the coast road to Dover. One lesson learned the hard way on this trip was never to think there is loads of time. We arrived at Dover as our 8pm ferry was loading, with the sweat beading somewhat and had a gentle trip to Dunkirk. No-one thought to tell us about the music festival in Brugge, so we motored on until quite tired and stopped at 01.00 in a truck stop where there were a couple of other rallyists. Not understanding that it was acceptable to pitch the tents in a truck stop, we slept in the car.

19th: Mileage 14,320. Being the first night spent in the car, I woke with a stiff neck and little sleep. I did learn how to sleep properly in the car, but not until after some more practice! We were the first customers in the eatery at the truck stop and sampled wonderful fresh baking. With daylight it was possible to see that the truck stop was attractively laid out, with trees, mown grass and no rubbish! We Brits have a lot to learn on this front. Our co-campers were Canadians and we saw the second Skoda problem (the first was an alternator at Goodwood). This one was a fanbelt - one obvoius item that we hadn't taken ourselves!

We passed a sign that caught the imagination - "Responsible Signalisation Workforce" - clever chaps, these Belgians, but we really couldn't make it out!

Took a detour to Heidleberg, where I spent some time in my yoof! It is still utterly beautiful, though possibly a little precious. It has all been pedestrianised now and the old town hasn't a hair out of place. However, they still have a sign showing the "Hotel and Restauration" right in the centre! Ruari's German came into play. most impressive. From here we headed up the Neckar valley, following a good road with stunning scenery. The target was Nurnburg for the night and we were making good time. The city of Nurnburg was large and Polly Skoda found it a bit intimidating so we lit out on the Autobahn again until a truck stop, where we met up with twenty more teams and camped. The shop was open all night, which helped water the troops - most of us had food and this was our first sampling of our sponsors, "Look What We Found". We were mildly embarrassed by the fact that we were eating so much better than the others, though we truly got over the embarrassment later into the trip. Wild Rabbit in Leek & Elderflower Sauce with Camargue Red Rice saw us well nourished and left the others eternally jealous! Bad luck chaps: we hope you enjoyed your Pot Noodles!

Saw our first sign for PRAHA (Prague)

July 20th: Mileage 14,840. We seemed to be cracking along at a good rate, which was quite necessary in order that we had time to get through the further flung parts, where the roads were not to be recommended to the faint hearted - and hopefully to actually have time to meet the people and appreciate the places we were visiting, the real point of the adventure. Left the Truck Stop in a convoy of twenty cars, led by a V8 Skoda Felicia. Nuts! We have learned that, when people say that THE CZECHOUT PARTY is near Prague, they mean somewhere in the Czech Republic! Lots of people went to Prague and then looked at the map. Suckers! The party was at Klenova Castle a mere 137 km south of Prague!

The party was a real humdinger, sponsored by Hendricks Gin, which gave it a leg up, but it was really the castle which was so superb. Utterly beautiful and dating back to 1291, this is an amazing venue for a party. Add four brilliant bands, excellent food and plenty of fellow Rallyists and we had the makings of a fantastic night.  

July 21st: Mileage 14,960: Ruari made it up to 05.30 before giving in to the Absinthe and going to bed. His (almost immediate) snoring woke me and I felt a "time to go now" moment coming on. He finally struggled out of bed, we had breakfast and away .. to the Church of Bones. We left with Team Slipstream and headed for the Church of Bones at Kunta Hora, just east of PRAHA. The Black Death visited the area and the already full chuch yard became home to a further 30,000 bodies over a 12 month period. The bodies already buried in the graves were dug up and their bones were taken into the church as their new resting place. Frantisek Rint, a local wood carver and artist, was employed by the Schwartzenberg family to compose the bones into works of art. The result is fantastic and eerily fascinating and includes a family crest, a chalice and a chandalier among - many - others, all made of bones.

July 22nd: Mileage 15,220: Headed for Krakow to get spares for Polly S - bulbs, brake pads and fan belt. Stopped at local repairer just outside town. After a long discussion the son took us into town in his car, shopping for the bits. We were with him for over two hours and he would not take more than a cigarette for his time. gives you a kind of warm feeling. It also offset some of the people who took us for a ride later!

Out onto the E40 - the European road numbering took us well into the 'istans - heading for L'viv. Ghastly traffic. We stopped to buy a CB radio to try to keep in touch with the other teams. Even having worked out how to set it up, it proved to be of no use, as almost no-one else had a set and most of those who did switched them off to avoid static noises! A few other rallyists appeared on the road through the day.

Ukraine border: frustrating! We had to unpack the car and show our everything before leaving Poland. We're not sure what they wanted of us except to be a nuisance. And then the same, but worse as we entered the Ukraine. I was then sent walking with a guard and another six rallyists to fill in a migration form and to buy a green card. We were told to cross out "tourist" and fill in "transit" on the form - more on this later - and were sold the green card. Quite embarassing really as I had no idea why I was being escorted away and had no cash, so had to borrow from another rallyist. The Ukraine border staff seemed to be making everything as difficult as possible and left us in pretty poor humour! The one good part of this was that a Russian lady with another team took over and bossed the Ukrainians into final submission. I was left thinking - wrongly - that we could not have got by without her. L'viv is beautiful, but desperately run down. At L'viv Ruari befriended a Ukrainian who had fallen out of a night club and spoke some English. He advised us that we should simply go out of town and pull into the trees to camp.

This we did, making various mistakes: the farm track that looked as if it took one tractor into the field once a year, was actually a commuting route, carrying probably fifty vehicles in the morning. Also the defunct railway crossing was far from defunct. Every half hour or so after midnight an alarm went off warning of a train. When the train eventually came - at 04.30 - our tents nearly took off. When the next one came, at 05.00, I was awake enough to register that it appeared to be the wrong side of us, as if we had parked in the middle of a shunting yard with trains travelling back and forward at 120kph! As it was, we had parked the car by the tent, the opposite side from the railway, so the noise was echoing off it. We got up pretty sharpish and, while doing our teeth, had several cars and motorbikes come out of the field and several work buses - old lorries with workman's huts on the back passed with the world ogling us as if we were the odd ones!

July 24th: 15,850 Miles: For once we have reached a planned stopping spot, if a little later than we anticipated. Kiev. This appears to be where the money is in the Ukraine: we have been through dreadfully run down areas and roads that have erupted into great breakers of tarmac. Real car destroyers.

At one point, while heading for Kiev, we were pulled over by the Police. I had been driving, with all my concentration on the road and was pulled up after a traffic light. The Policeman was polite and pleasant and informed me that I had shot a red light. I doubted the veracity of this statement as did Ruari and did my - now well practiced - Englishman not understanding act. He looked thoroughly unimpressed, drew a traffic light and made it known that I understood him perfectly well. All very fine so far. Then he told me he wanted $100. Those who know me well will know that I'm a little tight when I'm being shafted and he was being given evidence of this, when Millie came over from the next car. She's usually very good at taking the heat from a situation and bounced over, asked how it was all going and would I introduce her to my new friend? My new friend, seeing an advantage here, said that it would be $100 for Steph and Millie's car, Li'l Jim and $100 for John and James' Terios, because, as far as we could understand, they were our friends! I did not become apoplectic: it had become so ridiculous that I told him we were leaving. The policeman immediately called an English speaker on his mobile. Could have been his girlfriend or Head Office; I don't know. However, the lady sounded perplexed and I explained that he was a little con-man, I was being accused of something that by now I had decided I hadn't done, that he wanted money from me and from my friends for being my friends. She asked how much and I told her: "$100 for me, and $100 each for the other two cars - that is $300". She sounded a bit surprised and I gave the phone back to the policeman who listened and went a little bit grey and hung up. He then stuck his hand out and said $30 - I think he even said "please". We shook hands on that. Damn! Maybe I should have tried harder!

Another bit of interest on the road: during the day, Ruari was driving and, on a long straight section, a lorry had started to pass another. While they were still half a mile away, it was becoming apparent that he was having to really try to get by and the other lorry was not about to give way. When they were 1/4 mile away I suggested that he was not going to make it and we pulled off the road, followed by John and James. Steph didn't recognise the problem until almost too late and finished up with one wheel overhanging a 4' ditch. The truck, a Kamuz, happily carried on his way with a honk and a wave!

Another truck was notably signwritten "BOURRAT".

The poverty levels were astounding. We would regularly pass a peasant sitting with a pot of honey or a bucket of apples. They would sit by the road all day to sell their produce. When we stopped to buy from ten old ladies, we discovered that they each had one product and would not split the purchase. For example we almost created an international incident by asking for six potatoes from a bucket of about 30. They could not understand that we were camping and only wanted what we could eat that day. Finally one of them came forward and asked if we spoke English! She was a retired English teacher and calmed down the situation - then they had to have their pictures taken with us. Happy days!

July 25th: Mileage 16,141: Pulled over by Police at Dnipropetrovsk, who showed a speed gun reading of 98.5kph. This seems to be a standard, that I swear has nothing to do with the speed we have been doing. First he wanted $30 and then, when I told him I was British actually and had no reason to carry dollars, called off his request, shook me by the hand and waved us on. Getting better at it!

Our exhaust started to rattle and a bolt had come loose at the bottom of the down-pipe. We tried to tighten it, but without removing the sump-guard or putting it on a ramp, we were going to struggle. Simple: we pulled into a motor mechanic and described precisely what needed doing. He put it on a ramp and mechanics appeared from nowhere and removed the wheels. They then announced that we had a number of steering and suspension problems and under Ukraine law they could not release the car until they were repaired. A simple con! however, there was truth in much of what they said and a day and $200 later we were on our way. The Ukraine roads really knock the living daylights out of the suspension and steering. This was the first time we had the tracking re-set.

Stayed in a truck stop with a good bar. There was a lake beside it, which fortunately didn't have mosquitos, but morning light showed that it was the recepticle for loads of unpleasant items. Truckstops are becoming less appealing and the khazi was just that: a hole in the ground with a box for the used paper. Never could understand that!

Aiming for Luhansk and Russia...

July 26th: Mileage 16,300: Crossed into Russia in the night and finally decided that I don't want to go back to the Ukraine - why the Ukraine? - The clerk who insisted we tick the "transit"  box as we entered the Ukraine was obviously in cahoots with the border at the Russian end. There is a time limit for transit vehicles to be out within three days. Like most others we took four. The border guards then tell you that they can't let you go through, they must deport you to the UK - or you can pay them 120 Euros. Left a final bad taste.

July 26th: Mileage 16,300: Russians notably better than the Ukrainians. They appear straight, though I'd hate to get on the wrong side of them! Steph and Millie are taking a different route and John and James left, sniffing round them. Sorry to lose Steph and Millie.

July 27th: Mileage 16,613: Volgograd: Hotel impressive and 4*. The entrance is quite Ritzy but upstairs the corridors are dowdy and the rooms are tired. The bathroom - oh yes, we needed a bathroom - was minute. It had a shower that reminded me of the caravan - shower over the loo! Did the job!

Visited the Volgograd Panorama Museum, just the outside bits. An interesting array of 'planes and tanks and a tank on a train. Most interesting/horrifying was the old warehouse that was all that was left when the Germans blitzed Stalingrad (its original name). A very effective memorial.

Went to see the Eternal Flame. Missed the Changing of the Guard by 1 minute, dammit! The thousand or so steps up to it defeated us! Then up to Mother Russia and a beautiful Kremlin up on the hill with them.

Pulled into a petrol station and Ruari was trying to figure out how to bypass Polly's light switch that had gone on the blink (!) A Kazakh truck driver stopped and took the switch to pieces and re-assembled it. Now we have lights again. Some of these truchers are fantastic - and he didn't want recompense... or did I get that wrong? Ho Hum

Kazakhstan Border: flew through the Russian side. However the Kazakh side was another thing altogether! After a couple of hours, Ruari was called through along with the other passengers. Not knowing what was to ensue, he had no money and no mobile phone. Bad move! The passengers were processed with a minimum of fuss and no bribes we have record of requested. For all the time we were at the border the children were trying to take anything they could and when we locked the car, they started picking the stickers off. Five hours later I was allowed through and then only to be fleeced as well and truly as they were able. The Kazakhs were after bribes and were holding up proceedings as only they can until we were so frustrated that we paid them. One miserable little sod made me unload the car . He made no attempt to check the contents and just prodded things asking for "Presents...presents..." I offered him some Walkers Shortbread. He was the only person to turn it down and to this day he doesn't understand what he is missing! As it is, I would have bargained, but for the fact that, when he refused my incredibly kind offer, I became browned off and simply dug my feet in! Finally through and we were pleased to note that there was a hotel, newly built just inside the border. We signed in, only to discover that the other people in there were the - now very friendly - border guards who had tried to fleece us. The leader of the children was outside and we finally reckoned that we had to mount a guard on the cars all night. Little sleep was had by any of us!

28th July: Mileage 16,800: Nothing stolen, though there were comings and goings in the night. We believe our guard was warranted.

29th July: Mileage 16,909: Headed from the Kazakh border to Atyrau, where the Zayqq River separates Europe from Asia. We stopped for a photo session both sides of the bridge and popped into the hotel at the Asian end for a bite of lunch. Perversely, it houses the "Guns and Roses Pub". When we came out, a pretty lady was waiting by Polly and asked in excellent English, if she could interview us for the Kazakh Pravda. Oh, the people who want to talk to us!! She was lovely and I have to take a break and email her, if only to get a copy of her article! Only, I have lost her email address: lovely lady, if you read this,  please email the article to shane@bespoketouring.com. The good news is that I have just found her email address, so, if you read this, Assem Bakytova, you will shortly be receiving an email from those English lunatics you interviewed in Atyrau!

We were now in Asia!! Game on guys!

Hooked up with the Baataar Boys and Mongol Express (Ian, Pete, Edd and Tom) but seperated after lunch - far too interested in our lovely Pravda reporter! Obviously blinded by her good looks, we took an unintended 100 km detour and really had to motor to catch up. Found the meaning of boring: Kazakhstan roads! Long, flat, featureless with filling stations 100km apart. Unnerving travelling on our own, but there were ten rally cars in Atyrau this morning, so maybe?...

Two cars appeared on the horizon just now. We reckon a minimum closing speed of 110 mph and 4 minutes 30 seconds before they passed us. Roads very boring! That makes 10.8 miles ahead that we can see:  very, very boring....

30th July: 17,305 Miles: Into Uzbekistan. Tiny border crossing with friendly people, who actually take you to the next official and introduce you - not like previous experiences. The border is really a gate across the road with a few old shacks in which the employees seem to live. There is a bed or a sleeping mat in every one. No requests for backhanders, though it is a poor country. Good for them! Still takes for ever to get through.

Photographed China Pig with Kalashnikoff toting border guard.

First puncture: I suspect that we will stop logging the punctures shortly, as the roads are becoming less than perfect. We pulled into the front of a hotel to change the tyre and realised that it was not a hotel at all, but the Uzbek Soda Research Centre. Strange town, no people, no shop, no bank, no hotel. The Director of the Institute came out in a white suit and insisted on helping change the tyre. He then invited us in to tea with him and his wife. These are seriously kind people. He took us to wash - quite necessary after changing the tyre - in a laboratory. There was a bottle collecting water under a dripping tap. This was their water supply. We were horrified: we both used their loo - something that travellers learn to take advantage of - and both flushed it. Probably half a day's supply of water for a building with 60 students and staff. We will never take running water for granted again.

Aiming for Moniac on the edge of the Aral Sea as was. We arrived after dark and could not find a hotel. The mozzies were out in force and we were told by a local, Yousouf, that there was no hotel, but we should stay with him. We were well fed and slept like logs. Again the water problem in the morning. We wanted to leave early, but Yousouf said that breakfast was cooking. We were really glad that we stayed for breakfast, not only because we really liked Yousouf and his family, but breakfast of mutton and potato stew and black chai (tea) with a lump of sugar made a really good set-up for the day. I must send something Manchester United to Yousouf!

It turned out that this was a village and not Magnac, so we headed on to Magnac to see the  ships' graveyard and the museum, all relating to the demise of the Aral Sea. This was caused by the Russians diverting the rivers that fed the Aral Sea to grow cotton for instant profit. As a result of poor land management and poor quality land this was a disaster  but the rivers have not been redirected and a town that had a large fishing fleet and canning industry is now almost dead. The only industry is Rayon - and who buys Rayon these days? This is a World Heritage site and is not in any way maintained. There is no signage to the ships' graveyard. We found some rotting hulls but never found the actual graveyard - others did - and the museum is dying. I can promise that if you can find it and go round it you will come ot with a feeling of helplessness, wanting to do something about these people - and the odd tear.

Who oversees World Heritage sites? At least the area should benefit from tourists coming to view the site. There is nothing and the area is dying.

On leaving Moniac we put the pedal to the metal, not that it made much diffence in Polly Skoda, for Nukus. We needed cash and had only plastic. More of that to follow: life is not always that easy! But at least the land en route is lush and green - irrigated with the water that should be feeding the Aral Sea.

August 1st: Mileage 17,815: The Uzbeks do not deal in plastic, as we found out when we reached Nukus. Nukus is a fair sized city and we arrived with no local currency at all. We travelled round ten banks with no joy. Each would willingly take time to discuss where we came from and anything they could communicate with us. They all had a guard on the door, who wanted to see our passports before discussing anything further. Finally the Bank National said that they reckoned the Kreditbank would be able to help, but it was fifteen minutes away and, the time being 16.45, it would be closing in fifteen minutes! We got there in ten and I was allowed into an inner sanctum, where a bored man took the full details from my passport and the car's registration document by hand and two women slept at their desks, snoring loudly. They then gave me the wrong amount - just enough for the day - and told me they were closed. Helpful!

We set off to find lodgings. The Hotel Tashkent is in a prime position and looks "Russian flashy". The doors were locked, barring a Judas gate. Through this there is a big marble lobby with a truck tyre leaned against one lift and the other obiously out of use. The unhelpful woman in a cubbyhole in the corner would not let us see a room before booking, so we departed and found the Hotel Nukus, which was a little smelly but adequate and our $10 room charge got us breakfast thrown in of 1 egg and 1 frankfurter and chai. Left, heading for Samarkand with the Scots from Kinross.

Perhaps they have a different idea of convoying from ours: we had no chance of keeping in touch as they belted off into the distance. We headed on until we found a tyre dealer - one with his bed in the back - to repair punctures. He fixed them and charged a mere fortune, then, when we tried to fit the road tyres to the front, we discovered that the suspension had shifted, as a result of driving on the rough roads. We could no longer fit our high profile tyres that were so good for giving us the extra ground clearance we so needed when the road surface was poor. This gave us the opportunity to use the Kumho 700S&M tyres that were so kindly supplied by Kumho themselves. Totally the wrong surface for the tyres, as we were still on tarmac, but they did well for us, notwithstanding.

As dusk came down we pulled in to a side road for a rest and to cook up some Mushroom Stroganoff with hand picked Scottish mushrooms on the side of the road. A family came by and asked who we were and where we came from. Ten minutes later the children came back with four eggs. I understand that in Muslim countries it is considered proper that you show friendship with travellers, a lesson for those of us who don't generally find the time or inclination.

Ran for Bukhara, on the old Silk Road, not knowing anything about the city. This is decidedly a place for further visitation. We came into a substantial city, passing what appeared to be a Disney scene, approaching completion. It is, according to locals, a 4,000 year old castle in amazing condition. I have tried to glean more information, most of which does not back this out. The most charming account is available at http://www.sambuh.com/en/uzbekistan/cities/bukhara/citadel-ark.html. Our hotel, the Hotel Caravan, is just behind the castle and on the edge of the old city with its soukhs, bazaars, jewellry market and is generaly a wonderful place in its original meaning.

We made an attempt at obtaining cash at the Promstoy Bank. The security guard, though the bank was closed on a Saturday, took me through the offices to the back of the bank where there was a "Bankomat" cash machine - but it wasn't working. He even tried to take money out of his account on my behalf. I was then feted with flat CocaCola before I was allowed to leave. Poor old Ruari was wondering what had happened to me. We were quite worried about handing over passports willy nilly, to these bank guards but really there was nothing to worry about.

The Caravan Hotel is decidedly to be recommended. Quirky in the best way. The proprietor insisted on showing us our room before we checked in. The first room he took us into involved looking surprised, saying "sorry, people" and backing out rapidly: the second was excellent. We asked for secure parking and were directed into the courtyard of the proprietor's home - through, it appeared, his living quarters, meeting the delightful family on the way. His two year old daughter speaks excellent English: "hello" and French: "Bonjour". When we asked for directions the next day we were lent the hotel clerk, Anvar, who showed us round. He even found us somewhere to obtain cash with plastic on a Sunday - magic in Uzbekistan - and when we needed to buy a tyre to replace one that was beyond repair, he found a taxi driver who led us to the tyre market and negotiated for us. Just wonderful service from lovely people. We hope to see Anvar in the UK later this year.

Anvar gave us directions to a restaurant for supper. We never made it to the restaurant as we found ourselves in another world, wandering through the souks and bazaars. We saw a bar/restaurant above everything else and headed up there to get an eagle's eye view of the old town. This was a good move: the view was spectacular and we fell into conversation with a South African who is working locally on the China gas scheme. A delightful man, as was his Russian colleague. When they left the South African said that he would have liked to buy us supper, but only had enough for a couple of beers and left us a wad of notes. I can only tell you, dear reader, that Bukhara is special! We are trying to find out who he is and thank him.

2nd August: 18,189 miles: Back on the road after a morning sorting out the ratted tyre problem - why can't all the tyres be like the Kumhos!! We hoped to run for Tashkent today but look like getting just past Samarkand.

3rd August: 18,389: Thanking our stars for the Kumhos, as no other tyre in our store will fit the front of the car!

Drove 'till 23.00 and had to stop for lack of concentration (Pete of the Baataar Boys went to sleep at the wheel yesterday). On Uzbec M37 cars did U-turns, there were unlit vehicles, vehicles coming the wrong way on the dual carriageway and desperate changes without warning to the road surface. The most frightening of all, however, was an unlit bicycle in the middle lane of the motorway. I have never seen Insch-Allah in action before. He swerved, just avoiding death and we nearly rolled the car. Time to pull over!

The little things that make life difficult: the glove locker won't close, leaving us no-where to hide immediate cash etc. Took it apart to get the lock working again and found that a previous owner stored her costume jewellery in the handle - only rubbish, but it caused us problems - now back together.

Went through a police check point rather too casually this morning, with just a wave when they tried to stop us. It appears that the route has changed, so, following about eight kilometers of increasingly poor dual carriageway, we returned to the check point. The road now goes off to the right there and the police thought it so funny that they all had to autograph Polly S.

Ruari's first speed trap: finger wagged and a smile! He was far too cocky for quite a while after this!

We were looking for somewhere for breakfast and saw a filling station with a WC signed. Serious luxury, as this meant running water and not just the hole in the ground and smell that followed you all day. We pulled in to find that it was a 24 hour station, with a huge bed under the canopy by one of the pumps. There was a cafe that served (eventually) proper coffee and we were asked if we wanted pizza for breakfast. They looked a bit perplexed when we said we would rather something else. Finally we had a minute steak with melted cheese and tomato. Really good if unconventional. The loo block boasted ten squatters with waist high partitions and  nine urinals - in a country filling station. I think we were the first to use it. Maybe they got something wrong somewhere!

Shows how things can vary: we crossed back into Kazakhstan with a minimum of fuss and no mention of bribes. We even saw a bribe offered and refused. Brilliant man who appeared to be in charge: delightful, polite and withering when challenged! Well done the Kazaks, though we will miss the Uzbeks.

4th August: mileage 18,725: Stayed in Taraz. When we asked the hotel where there was a cash machine - a regular question - we were pointed down the road. Finally asked a young local, a Leutenant in the Kazak Army and he walked with us for 3/4 mile to find us a machine. He then would not let us walk back as he said it was dangerous, found us a taxi and negotiated the fare. Magic! I'd like to think that sort of thing would happen in the UK.

Heading for Almaty, by the route described by a trucker in a cafe in the morning. Thank heaven, as we would have taken the route he says is rubbish!

Alma-Ata (Almaty) Vast and ugly but surrounded by beautiful mountains. Terrifying to drive in, but everyone wants to know where we come from and to give us directions - all different - consequently took several wrong turns.

Finally, the relief was such when we got out into the countryside that we stopped for a bite to eat. We sat on the side of the road and ate Fellside Beef Chilli Con Carne from Look what We Found, followed by Eat Natural Fruit and Nut bars and Walker's Shortbread, while we looked out on the mountains of China. Really makes one realise how far we have come!

We were still on the Silk Road and heading as fast as possible for the Siberian border, aiming to cross tomorrow...

5th August: 19,173 miles: We pulled in to kip in the car - no wild camping in Kazakhstan - to a tiny and decreasing lane with no likelihood of being woken... fat chance... this was apparently the entrance lane to a 24-hour quarry, so, every 3/4 hour or so, a lorry would come into the quarry and would stop to wake us and ask where we came from, where we were going..... nice enough people, but not much sleep! Left at 05.30 for a long day's driving.

750km to Semey and another 150km or so to the border. Roads were reasonable, but a long way in a day, but needs must...

Huge, straight, flat, boring roads for tens of miles... then a police post. This was the only one where I had to go into the post with all documents. Worrying. The stony faced lead policeman took down all of my - and the car's - details in longhand. When he asked where I was born, I said "Chipping Norton", which he repeated, stone faced. The younger and, I presume, bored policeman behind him said "Chipping Norton" and then, with a little dance, started chanting "Chip, Chip, Chippy, Chippy..." I was told rather curtly, I felt, to leave and I suspect a major bolloking ensued.

The road became the most awful dual/single carriageway/tarmac/dirt/sometimes road. There was no telling what it was going to do next and the pictures we took really do not do it credit. We followed a Felicia, using his route to get around some of the worst of the humps and bumps and finally stopped with him to help a broken down minibus. While we were helping - it was only a puncture, but they had no tools - Ruari was interrogated by the Skoda owner, who was oh so proud of his car, apparently the only one in northern Kazakstan. It was number 147 off the line and he is a paid up member of the Skoda Owners' Club! He even has a Felicia keyring!! We asked how far to Semey and thought the answer was 15km. In about 15 km we passed lights we thought were Semey and drove another 30km before sleeping in the car. On the way we discovered the art of strapping Look What We Found products - in this case Cumbrian Lamb Hotpot - to the cooling pipes of the car. When we stopped, the food was hot and oh so good. We ate it from the packets. Not glamorous, but we were tired!

6th August: 19,730: In Semey, Kazakhstan, we tried to fill at a station that said they accepted Mastercard. The woman wanted to take my card and to be told the pin number. I guess she's not experienced credit cards or???

Heading for the border with time getting short and mileages long.

The border: quick and efficient - thanks guys! Stopped for a coffee at Rubovsk. Very smart place when you got into it. Alexei (Russian) and Renee (American) saw Polly and introduced themselves. May come visiting in the UK. They organised better maps than we already had and arranged a hotel in Barnaul for us for the end of the day so we could enjoy the trip over two passes in the Altai Mountains in the morning. As it was, the hotel looked at the state of us - grubby - and turned us away, so we stayed in the cheap hotel in town, which was really very good..

7th August: Before the border we saw some rallyists and joined them for a drink before heading for the border. I've now learned not to trust friendly Italians who come bearing vodka. My head hurt in the morning! Slept at the Russian/Mongolian border. A very civilised way to camp - even the khazi, kindly provided by the Altai Russians, was newly built and hadn't had time to become smelly.

8th August: 20,490 miles: A strange day. We felt that we had almost made it as we planned to enter Mongolia. To cross the border you start by walking 1/4 mile back to an office in the village where the Russian Migration Document was completed, then a wait before being allowed through. While waiting, we thought it apt that we should show the Brits to be a generous nation. R and I took a tray of Walker's Shortbread down the queue for all present. The truckers in the big smelly Kamuz lorries thought we were mad and we were turned away by a Landcruiser with blacked out windows, full of Russians. However, as we got back to the car, the Russians came up, rather shamefaced and asked if they could have nine shortbreads for their passengers!

Through with no problem and were stopped at a gate three km on for a moment before being allowed through. We thought this was the Mongolian border and went up the hill to photograph it. No such luck; this was still Russia. About 20km later we came in sight of the border proper and had to go through the regular border procedures. Some people had been kept overnight while the Mongols sorted out papers for their cars and there was an unfortunate air of tension: were we going to get through before the weekend? Into this were fed several quite unnecessary rumours about the administration of the Adventurists, which really did not help the situation: I understand that Tom not only does not own a Ferrari, but he does not actually own a car: Dan did not arrive at Czeckout in a helicopter and the Adventurists do not have to send a text message every time a car is presented at the border! We seem to have got through before the others either by being quiet or because they were sorry for this old geezer. I'm not sure which!

We pulled a few km out of the village and set to to sort out the contents of the car, by this time a very necessary task, when a nomad family pulled up a kilometer away. Two little girls came over and, rather shyly watched us. They went away and came back a little later with their little brother - very little - and a sweetie for each of us. We sent them away with a Walker's Shortbread each. We had met the first genuine (unaffected by tourists) Mongols and we loved them to bits. Back to the border to find Jonny and Tom of "I mongoled yer mum", who we were convoying with. No problems, they were just waiting for the car to be cleared and we wandered in and out of the border control without anyone batting an eye.

Jonny and Tom were cleared and we headed off through fantastic scenery - Scottish Highlands, but 20 times bigger - one of the first challenges we found was, having worked out, we hoped, which track was ours, to get up an incredible climb.  We struggled up the first half of the mountain and stalled and had to go back down and run - with a push, a climb of about 500 meters in less than a kilometer in first gear. Polly only just made it as did Ruari who really felt the altitude after pushing the first bit. We think we were at about 3,500 metres above sea level for the first time! Thank heaven for the Kumhos, which had to work for a living at last!

Stayed in Olgiy in a room where the beds were let for $4 per night and ate in a Turkish Muslim restaurant where the menu was largely horse. The only time on the entire trip I had problems with my tum!

9th August: 20,573 miles: On to the East. There was a Kazakh with a Golden Eagle on his arm. I shot out of the car. This was one thing I really wanted to see and didn't think I would be able to... This guy recognises tourists and milks them. $10 later piccies were taken.

However, a little later we stopped on the roadside and a nomad rode up. We expected that same treatment, but he was shyly polite and asked Jonny if he (6'3") would like to sit on his pony. He was asking for nothing and finally I gave him some snuff - well, I'd been told that all Mongols take it - he looked a bit bemused!

Khovd: Polly's sumpguard has been hit so many times that it is rubbing on the sump. Took it to local workshop, that immediately asked if we had tools, as they had none! What?? They then decided to re-shape the sumpguard so that it would have dragged on the road. Eventually got the job finished with a weakened sumpguard and refused to pay the money demanded. We paid a reduced figure and drove off with no love lost: in fact I think I called the mechanic a wan...r. 30 km up the road we camped and in the morning could not start the car, because the petrol pump was kaput.

10th August: mileage 20,722: I texted Dan of the Adventurists to find out if he knew of another mechanic, as we were not going to be able to go back to yesterday's one, even if we wanted to. He sent the number of a guy who was very helpful with the rally last year. Galla spoke reasonable English and, true to his promise, turned up to tow us into Khovd. In the car we were joking about what would happen if we were taken to the same garage. We pulled into the same area of town... and the same yard, where yesterday's mechanic was doing a little dance... well, quite a big dance, really! I caught Galla and explained that we were really good payers if there was communication, and please would he stay in touch, while Ruari fed everyone present with Walker's Shortbread. Things seemed to be calming down, but one of the mechanics made the throat gesture for Vodka. R saw his opportunity and produced his Whisky flask (never produced it for me) and everyone was really good friends! While we were negotiating for a pump out of a car that had died, one of the boys re-built our pump and fitted it, never to miss a beat! They even gave us a taxi to lunch, which was waiting for us when we came out. The driver refused to charge!

Back up the road "I mongoled yer mum" had broken down catastrophically. Their rear wishbone broke, never to hold them up again and their brakes went. They wanted to get Tony the Corsa to one of the Adventurists' drop off points and I took Tom to the next village, to find a lorry to take the car on to Altay. The village was small and the only truck we could find belonged to a builder who didn't want to break off to take anyone anywhere. Finally he agreed to pick Tony up and take him to his own village, but only if he could do it immediately. He would bring five burly men to lift the car onto the truck. When we got back to the car in the dark, the burly men ranged from nine to fourteen and were lightweights. Well they couldn't lift the car. Finally they backed up to a tump, jacked up the front of the truck and made up the gap. Tom and Jonny sat in the car, unsecured, on a truck too short for it, on rough roads, for 30km back to the village. They didn't even look grey in the morning!

While all of this was happening, John and Mark pulled up to ask if they could help. Their Matiz refused to start and in the morning we towed it to the same village, also dead.

11th August: mileage 20,840: After one last attempt to get the Matiz running again, we towed it into Darzan, where Tony was to be left. In the meantime Tom and Jonny had given away most of their kit to the villagers and we proceded to do much the same in order to get them into Polly. In fact we packed her better and the handling improved considerably - still overloaded, though. The excitement of all these gifts coming their way rather overcame the villagers and Ruari caught one going off with his sunglasses and I caught a guy taking  a pack of cigarettes, only to find that the carton had been emptied when I returned with it! Still, they needed them more than I did! I don't smoke.

A long drive to Altai, over rubbish, corrugated roads through Steppe and desert. Arrived at Altai as dusk came down. The hotel seemed to be ripping us off, so we went to the other hotel in town - a tip and smelly, so we returned to the first: there seems to be a tax on foreigners in hotels, as they all have a double tarriff: we paid up and had a beer then went up the road to the only restaurant that seemed to be open - this is the country's second largest city - serving really good beef sizzling in a Chinesy sort of dish. Recommended, if only we knew what it was called! The waitress was sweet and when Jonny ordered seconds, she didn't understand. We were presented with three dishes before getting the right thing. I'm pretty sure you woudn't find patience like that in other countries. She deserved her tip!

12th August: mileage 21,045: The Police Station for Altai was opposite our room and I watched a well diciplined force turn up to work, all to come out ten minutes later for an organised run around the block and ten minutes of exercises before going off to duty. Most un-Mongolian!

We left Altai aiming for Bayaanhongor and spent most of the day lost. Steppe and desert! We passed a dead camel, being eaten by vultures. Just vast, the vultures, that is! They really showed up the fact that we were in serious country. When asked for directions a motorcyclist sent us back and then the guy running a truck stop sent us back again. We got a cheery wave from the motorcyclist??!! We wished we knew where we were going!

We needed a mechanic for one of the cars and asked where a mechanic could be found. We were given directions - 140km away!

13th August: 21,270: Camped with Let Skoda Mongolia and The Cuddy Munsters. We were joined by Baataar, a Nomad on a motorbike who just wanted to be sociable. In typical form he latched onto me. We asked him where he lived and he looked a bit panicky: I guess this is not the question to ask a Nomad!

After a good sleep, we were woken by John at 05.00 and away at 06.00 for a serious day's getting not very far. Quite normal! We made a wrong turn, having just paid a $1.50 toll to drive on a non-road.

14th August: 21,551 miles:  There were the first - almost the only - signs we had seen showing Ulaanbaatar on the edge of Altai. Shortly after these, the road split into 14 (at least) tracks and we chose the wrong one! We thought we had gone north of the main route and consequently believed that we should be heading south to bisect it. However... we were south of it and heading south only took us further into the Gobi - and it became serious desert! Nomads give such questionable directions that, when given the correct ones, you - well, in this case, I tend not to believe them! About six hours later we reached the proper road - and proper it was. Tarmac even, for a kilometer or two.

We found that we had taken the right fork, where we should have gone left and reached a 4' deep ford. There was an offer to tow us across with a tractor, but, with holes in the floor, everything would have been saturated, not to mention our electrics, so we turned around. Fortunately we saw a very pretty local girl, who wanted to go back up the road. We gave her a lift and she pointed out a track, barely two wheel marks, which she said would take us to the main road about 50-60km on. Thank heaven we were followed by The Cuddy Munsters as they flagged us down to tell us that we were pouring oil out. We had lost the sump plug. We walked back about 1/2km, following the oil slick and one of the guys picked up our sump plug with his toes. How lucky is that!! When we cleared out the car to fit Tom and Jonny in, we kept a can of oil, so we were able to carry on with just a little time lost.

We stopped in relief as we joined the tarmac section to change yet another tyre. Typically, a nomad came and squatted down to watch. We gave him some shortbread - never travel without it - and he prodded the front nearside wheel, which moved worryingly and pointed out that another wheel bearing was on its way out. Had to look for another mechanic as we didn't have the right spanner to nip up the bearing.

Gave up the run for the airport as we simply were not going to make it and immediately felt the tension level drop. The roads were now tarmac with a great ridge of earth every now and then, sending you off onto tracks, some of which were serious killers, until somewhere there would be a spot where someone had made their way back onto the tarmac and we could charge again for the next bit. In this way we approached Arvayheer. Pure luck; we pulled in to a parking spot to discuss what now and realised that the building we were next to could be a restaurant. Checked inside and it was not only a restaurant, but a good one. The meal was excellent, though they seemed to put a screen round each table so that they could eat in peace, with the exception of ours. I think we were the spectacle for the night! Strange loos too: they were communal, with a urinal next to basin and a lavatory in a cubicle marked in English, "Women only".

We set out to drive 20km or so out of town to camp. Everyone was in fine spirits now that we were no longer trying to achieve the impossible and get Jonny to his flight. A couple of beers helped, though this was a country in which there was a zero alcohol tolerance for drivers. Sod's law had it that this was the time we were to have our only police tug in Mongolia and I was driving. I always tried to keep the initiative when pulled over, so my window was down and my hand out to shake the policeman by the hand - which suitably rattled him - then he spouted Mongolian at me which I genuinely didn't understand. I did my very best "Terribly sorry, but I'm British, don't you know..." and he looked to the skies and waved me on, at which stage this lot couldn't contain themselves and there was a shout of hysterical merriment from all three passengers. Thank God he had no car, as I'm sure that I would have been in the town cell within moments otherwise!

Camped on a hillside a kilometer off the road. In the morning the scale of the country made it look as if we were almost on the edge of the road. This is a really BIG country.

15th August: mileage 21,805: Well it should be a breeze into U-B today, but somehow Polly was not feeling quite right. On hills she was regularly passed by the most embarrasing vehicles, but today she was excelling herself in losing power. Then she started going into get you home power mode and each time she did this we would switch off and on and she would gain power for a few minutes again. Eventually we came to a tatty truck-stop - several restaurants that you would tend to avoid unless on death's doorstep and a couple of tyre shops. We stopped the engine and the battery was totally flat. One thing we had not thought to check before leaving was the alternator brushes! One tyre depot sent us across the road to the other, where the entire family looked totally blank.  We took the alternator off and cleaned it up with good old WD40 and while we were doing this, the owner of the place across the road came over and took Ruari across to look at their stock of brushes for everything in the world except a Skoda Felicia. He also took the battery over to put it on charge. Fortunately we had bought a new heavy duty battery before leaving. He asked whether we would like a trickle charge (fingers close together) or a good old jig-a-jig (with fist pumping). We said the jig-a-jig sounded good and he gave it just that for forty minutes. She started sweet as a nut and the alternator seemed to enjoy being cleaned out, so she was set for U-B and the airport.

We saw another rallyist, though without a car at a Cafe in the middle of no-where and stopped. He had his car in the back of a huge Kamuz truck and had stopped for breakfast. He volunteered his driver to tighten up our errant wheel bearing and the man produced a set of vast socket spanners and the job was done in a trice - and he wouldn't take a penny for it

At last, into Ulaanbaatar. Having been blasted off the road by almost every Landcruiser we saw, one tried to push us out of the way at the toll booth into the City. At that speed we were able to do something about it and the satisfaction was something else! The traffic in the city is nuts! heavy, large and buses cutting us up all over the place. The Adventurists' directions were spoiled somewhat by a road diversion but by this time, another change in route was only to be expected. There was a big welcome as we pulled in and photos were taken aplenty.

The Adventurists threw a tremendous party for us all, with a concert by the children from the Blue Skies Village (CNCF) and a magic throat music group - and a contortionist who I found a bit creepy! There were also awards and we won one for  "Excelence in fundraising". Also there was an interview Dan was doing with Mongolian TV, in which he wanted a couple of Rallyists and bearded R and me - becoming known as real media tarts!

When we had checked in, we thought we would hang on to Polly for the night in order to sort out what was kept and what given to the charity. We had been warned to watch out for manhole covers that had not been put back properly. Well, we found one that had not been put on at all! R managed to drop the front wheel into a totally open manhole, fortunately at a very low speed! I was lifting, while he drove and we were obviously not going to be able to extract her, when a little local chap came over. "I help" and he simply lifted her out and back a foot, bowed slightly and carried on his way. I think I saw him the next day and he did walk like a weight lifter.

The Diplomat Hotel was, like so much in Mongolia, a strange mixture. The staff spoke little English, the room we were first given had not been cleaned or made up. However the next was clean, the bedroom was large with a lobby that could have housed a family and a good bathroom - with a plug for the bath, an unusual accessory on this trip - but hot water only between 6 and 8pm, and then only on a good day. When they woke us at 3am to go to the airport we were offered breakfast. Not bad! The cooked bit of breakfast was eggy bread topped with strawberry yoghurt and a triangular toasted sandwich containing American (yuk) cheese and liver sausage. The hot beverage - I avoid calling it coffee - was supplied as a jug of hot water and a sachet of sugar with a little coffee and non-dairy creamer. I'd do a lot to avoid that. however, I really would recommend the hotel to the more adventurous sort.

We were invited by Eamonn, C.N.C.F's man in charge, to visit the Blue Skies Village and see the charity in action. We drove four km into the most depressed area I have been in since Kingston West End (Jamaica) in the 1950s. Most people live in a ger (tent) or a small mud hut with no sanitation, electricity or running water. They have to buy their water from a public well. Eighteen residents of this area died during storms the week before we arrived. In the middle of this is a acre of haven for children who have suffered serious abuse. They live eight to a ger, each with a ger mother, who, herself has suffered abuse. The children range in age from about three to late teens and all appear to get on incredibly well. Fantastically in my mind, they all seem to be confident, both with their peers and with the adults who were visiting them.

There is, necessarily, a security presence in the village and Eamonn noticed some of the children doing dance steps that had obviously been taught by a professional. On checking, he discovered that one of the security men had been a principal dancer with the Bolshoi Ballet. This guard is now in charge of the children's artistic activities and they have completed the building of a theatre, where the children gave us another show, singing, dancing and playing traditional instruments, which they did excellently, within their age abilities.

We were shown round the gers and met a child with desperate rickets, which is one of the regular problems locally, owing to a lack of vitamin B in their diet. The charity will be funding the girl having her legs broken and re-set.

As well as running the village, they have a UniMog, which they run round the city with a soup kitchen and emergency health clinic for the children who live on the streets and in the heating ducts under them. They are in touch with Social Services in the outlying regions as well and bring children in as required or help impoverished families by supplying a fully furnished ger.

I give to charities regularly and have those that I feel are necessary. However, I have never seen one so necessary in action. I am absolutely thrilled to have been able to help Christina Noble Children's Foundation. I would like to continue to do so in the future and if anyone reading this feels able to donate - they particularly need money and pharmaceuticals - please feel free to contact either Ruari or me. My number is 07989 211738, email shane@bespoketouring.com

Our mileage recorded was 7,619 on the trip, though this will be far short of the real distance as we ran on 14" wheels and deep tyres. We can't work out the actual mileage, as we changed the size of tyre mid-trip and can only guess that it was at least 9,000 in total.

SMS Update

Home at last, and only took 26 hours! Good to be back!

SMS Update

Aeroflot living up to expectations. Four hours late out of ub so missed our connection. Lunch of cat food on board. Massive delay at customs as they didn't have a plane to put us on to heathrow. Fun and games!

SMS Update

made it to ulan bator on friday night, in time for the big party on sat. Fantastic to have made it, few last problems but we pulled through!

SMS Update

convoy with let skoda mongolia & cuddy monsters. Lost again & useless at judging which nomads are giving correct directions! A consequent day in the mountains - beautiful! Polly S creaking a bit. Asked for local mechanic & directed 140km! First sign for U-B with mileage - 371 and tarmac.

SMS Update

Took a wrong fork and faced a 4'deep ford. 100km back or ao unrecognisable track across the steppe. The track it was and in the middle of nowhere lost tin sump plug. Tracked back 1/4 mile and, miraculously, found it! Oil fill and away to a village with beer in the shop and camped with Cuddy Munsters & Let Skoda Mongolia all now carrying retirees. 05.00 away for a long day to U-B@

SMS Update

Stayed at Olgy. £4 per bed! Trying for Hovd today. Unbelievable scenery and gers in the most unlikely places.

SMS Update

we're in mongolia, and it's amazing! Big mess up at the border- the adventurists have made no friends unfortunately. Country is fantastic though. Roads I would think twice about sending a land rover up, hills we only just climbed in first gear, so far lovely people, especially the children. Glad to finally be here!@

SMS Update

Barnaul: good hotel for £10 each inc breakfast. interesting massage on offer. Cleaner and well slept. Through the Altai Republic. Beautiful. ** some text is missing **