This all started for us in 2007, when the Mongol Rally peripherally crossed Father's radar. A car rally, across half the globe, unsupported, in an entirely inappropriate vehicle? Count me in, I said. Since then career paths have been planned around it, a book has been written to finance it (http://www.cambridge.org/uk/catalogue/catalogue.asp?isbn=9780521118255) and Mother has required significant calming at every available opportunity.

But that’s all in the past now. Its now just Team Uncharted Waters, Father and Son, together but very alone, against the odds. And those odds are significant. We calculate it at 11,000 miles, across mountains, deserts, and some of the most inhospitable territory this planet has to offer us. Add to that officious, and not so officious, border guards, tinpot dictators, scorpions and plenty of good, old-fashioned bandits and you’re getting the idea.

The blog below will be updated with all the latest action (and inaction) from the road - check back here to see what trouble we've got ourselves into...

The end of the road - Ulan Bataar

As you will have guessed from the title, a battered and tired Team Uncharted Waters and Vauxy Lady have now arrived in Ulan Bataar!

In fact, we got in yesterday - a day ahead of schedule. We did that despite, on our final day of rallying, beaching Vauxy in some sand before even leaving the last town and then getting lost at the first junction on the road to UB (leading to a 20 mile detour through a beautiful river valley).

How did we do it? Well, the secret to progress is paved roads. They started after an initial 120 mile stretch (plus detour) on the usual, potholed, dusty, corrugated iron-textured road surface, and from then on we were flying. We could barely believe how easy the driving was. The final 250 miles were going to fly past, we thought.

But just as we were even listening to our Fawlty Towers cassettes (thanks again Han) for the first time since Russia and I was drifting off to sleep happily, we (somewhat inevitably) had a final puncture for the road and had to fit our last, threadbare spare tyres. The tension then returned - any more punctures would present a real problem. This was compounded when, 100km from UB, we were thrown back onto rocks and dirt track when the paved road ended suddenly. Every rock and pothole was tortuous - just when we thought we'd made it.

But Vauxy survived, somehow. For reference, a list of the things wrong with her at present is as follows (only the things we have noticed):

• Damaged rear suspension;
• Misaligned front wheels;
• Power deficiency in the engine in the mornings;
• Back bumper hanging off (due to Father's little incident);
• Tyres dangerously worn;
• Exhaust loose;
• Scratched front bumper;
• No glass in the wingmirrors (stolen in Turkmenbashi); and
• Cassette player broken (just outside UB).

On top of that, everything in the car, including its occupants, is covered in dust. Despite all this, on drawing the car into the parking lot of our hotel in UB, Father was approached by a local who wanted to know how much we would sell her for! She is that desirable, apparently. The man no doubt looked quite perturbed when Father told him that we were giving her away for nothing.

And now we are basking in the delights of civilisation (it's all relative), with a decent hotel, proper sleep and western food, before the next leg of our adventures begins - in my case, the Trans-Siberian railway to Irkutsk and some mucking about around Lake Baikal, then on to Moscow and St Petersberg and a rendezvous with Father (who will go on ahead) and a very relieved Mother.

At this point i should add my thanks to all those who sponsored us, the total amount of which came to over 3,000 pounds. Hopefully we'll catch up with you all on our return to the UK, when you can look forward to a much longer and, ultimately, even more tedious recounting of our adventures.

Andrew

P.S. To Clara, I'm afraid that we didn't meet your Father, but i gather from their blog that they're now in UB safe and well, so we might yet have time.

The hard yards...

Greetings from Mongolia! Unfortunately not quite Ulan Bataar just yet, but then we have been rather detained.

So we left the story in Russia. From there we drove the 750, gloriously paved, kilometres to the Mongolian border, arriving on Monday afternoon. All to plan so far, you think.

Then we waited. First, we waited on the Russian side of the border for 24 hours. We're still not quite sure why the Russians didn't want us to leave (oh Mr Waterses, why you leave so soon?) but they kept plenty of other teams there too, so it was fairly social. At that point, we didn't realise that this was just the warm up act.

So to the next day, and through the Russian border with the bare minimum of friendliness on their part, then to the Mongolian border (actually 20km down the road, in which we saw our first herd of yaks!). More waiting. In fact, around 35 rally teams were being kept there, some for a number of days. Rumours abounded about the reasons for our delay, but no information was forthcoming. We ended up sleeping the night in a ger (hut) in the village (we were allowed to leave the border but our cars weren't), where I ended up in a dormatory of 10 rallyists. Father tried to get an early night in the adjoining room; ultimately, a poor decision, as the ger also operated as a shop and restaurant and sold voda. Only one thing for it, I thought. Fair to say that I felt appalling the next morning. As it turned out, Father's night's sleep was interrupted by a couple of Mongolian girs and a large Swedish bloke. I'll leave him to explain that one...

The following day Father did something quite out of character. I'd disappeared with others to defy our detention peacefully by climbing a hill overlooking the border (and snow-capped mountains in the distance), and as we returned we realised that others had taken more direct action. Apparently, a group photo of all the rallyists had degenerated into a sit-in protest in the border building, which had threatened to turn violent with people being dragged out by the army. Father was in there, but emerged unscathed. Anyway, an hour later and we were all free and in Mongolia. Probably best not to try that one at a border again though.

So to Mongolia, the goal of our adventure. What to say? The scenery is stunning, the roads are appalling and the showers are cold if you are lucky. I remain unconvinced that a building can describe itself as a hotel if it lacks both electricity and running water, but on the evidence available in Mongolia it appears that I am the one who is mistaken.

We have now been in the country for three days and are making good progress (currently about 400 miles from UB). I say good progress. In fact, we have now punctured six tyres, damaged Vauxy's steering and the bumper is hanging off, but at least she is still moving (we dropped in on a Mongol Rally car graveyard last night and witnessed two teams abandoning - a sobering sight). Most spectacular rallying incident goes to Father, who punctured one rear tyre on a dirt track (there are no paved roads - other than in towns - in Mongolia thus far), failed to notice, then damn near flipped the car over as the other rear tyre rolled off the wheel. Although we stayed the right way up, we ended up in a field facing a direction perpendicular to that of the road, which tells you how much we had been thrown about.

Most worrying moment was yesterday. After using two spare tyres following Father's 'little incident' (only one of which we managed to repair), we spent the next day puncturing further. I should explain at this point that across the wide, open deserts of Mongolia there is never one road, but a series of tracks, which intermingle, sometimes heading in different directions but ultimately on the same bearing. Except yesterday we got onto a track which ended up a long way from the main raod (i.e. the main confluence of tracks) and dwindled down to almost nothing. It was at this point, in full view of a man and his horse, that we punctured for the second time that day, leaving us with no remaining spare tyres and at least 100 miles to go on the roads which were causing the punctures. As we were far from the main road, there would be no other traffic to help us if we punctured again, and we knew it. As it was, we limped home the final hundred miles at 20-25mph, taking no risks and both feeling every bump on the road with deep apprehension. How did Father and I relax yesterday evening, you ask? In a Karaoke bar and pub, of course. Nothing like mutton and noodles to a background of wailing to make you feel human again.

So what remains? It is now Saturday night and we anticipate being in UB by Monday evening. There are rumours that the roads might improve, and might even be paved towards the end, but I'll believe that whe I see it. Otherwise it'll be more bouncing across deserts and canned food. Wish us luck.

Andrew

Kazakhstan, Kazakhstan, you very nice place...

... and actually, it is! Other than that, though, it really is nothing like Borat portrayed.

So, from Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan we headed into Kazakhstan (more entertaining document antics and excellent passport stamps on the border) and into some real adventure. The only word to describe Kazakhstan is vast. It is also unpopulated, being the ninth largest country in the world with only 15 million inhabitants. So, in short, there's not much to see. The scenery in the south is spectacular though; rolling, scrub covered hills and grassy steppe, bringing images to my mind of Ghengiz Khan and horseback tomfoolery. All good fun, I'm sure.

We cut north across a corner of Kazakhstan towards Russia, which still took us the best part of two days and involved a night's camping out on the steppe (which was windswept but gave an excellent, clear view of the Milky Way - one of the perks of being in the middle of nowhere). I still couldn't tell you where we were when we camped - we simply pulled off the road, drove over a hill and pitched the tent.

The second day was epic; we drove over 500 miles as the scenery gradually became greener, bleaker and emptier; the road stretched out for hour after hour with seemingly no end in sight. We were headed for Semey (previously Semipalatinsk) - a place famous only for being the closest city to where the Soviets used to test nuclear weapons (a large area to the west of the city known as the polygon). Over 450 nuclear tests were carried out and the legacy of radiation illness lives on in Semey. It is, to my eyes, a classic Soviet city; decrepit tenement blocks, cracked pavements, dark streets and few signs of life. It makes me wonder what aspirations young people there must have; as none of them speak English, I haven't yet been able to ask.

One of the biggest problems we have out here is food; we gave up eating lunch in Turkmenistan (simply too hot and a waste of time) but every evening now we are faced with a menu in Russian and waiters/waitresses who don't speak a word of English - getting something edible is somewhat challenging. Sadly, our meal camping on the steppe was one of the best meals we've had for weeks, and it was only pasta and sauce with fresh bread! In Semey, we made a bold choice from the lonely planet; a restaurant that served Chinese food along with the Russian menu (that might sound odd, but we are very close to the Chinese border here and were throughout Kazakhstan). The menu was obviously in Russian, so Father started miming (with noises) the animals we would like to eat; moo-moo (with horns gesture) for beef and a clucking dance to suggest chicken. In fact we got very edible beef, and some fairly rancid duck, which I thought was not a bad result. As you might imagine, any restaurant with a picture menu wins our custom.

Another feature of Kazakhstan was the potholes. Most of our journey was on reasonable roads, but the final 100 miles of main road (motorway on the map) to Semey was almost unpassable. The potholes are deep, with sharp edges, and spread right across the road. Poor Vauxy took a hammering. For me at least, the longer you have to drive at a snail's pace, the more tempted you are to try to drive fast when the road seems to have improved. Of course, another pothole is just around the corner, waiting to catch you trying to make some progress.

On possibly the last pothole of the day, the inevitable happened; a loud bang and a persistent knocking noise coming from the back wheels. We limped to Semey; Father was of the opinion that the exhaust had come loose. In Semey a helpful man at the hotel (named Kyra) took us to a garage the following morning, where it was discovered that we had broken not one but both suspension springs (amazingly, Vauxy still drove well without them, which may be useful in Mongolia). After a conference entirely in Kazakh, a 30 minute wait and some sorting (by way of a hammer) of our bent wheels, a man reappeared with (apparently) a set of springs from a Toyota Corolla, which actually fit rather nicely (though how he got them on without losing any fingers was a mystery to us). So, another crisis averted inside 90 minutes and for only $25. You'll be pleased to know that Vauxy is now back on top form again - she is a testament to Vauxhall's build quality (a phrase I never thought I'd use).

We're now in Barnaul in Russia, taking a Sunday off before heading to the Mongolian border tomorrow (which is closed at weekends). It will apparently take 24 hours to cross the border, then it's on to the harsh terrain of Mongolia - at least four days (if all goes well) without mobile phone signal, without hotels or restaurants and without recognisable roads! It's also been a record year for rainfall in Mongolia, so Vauxy may be learning to swim. Wish us luck and expect an update from Ulan Bataar next weekend or so - we intend to make it, even if Vauxy doesn't. But, ever the optimist, I know she will.

Andrew

Business as usual...

...if, that is, your particular business involves stunning scenery, paying bribes to policemen and a dodgy Afghan at a roadside stop.

Where to begin? I left the story in Bukhara, which on closer inspection was one of the most spectacular places I can ever hope to visit. For those in any doubt and with time to kill (and as we can't upload photos here because the internet seems to be connected by way of a string and tin can) do an image search for 'Bukhara' on google and you'll get the idea. We then moved on to Samarkand, which has equally spectacular sites, mostly erected by or in honour of Timurlane (for those who don't know their history, Timurlane was a later Genghiz Khan type who came from Samarkand and had an empire stretching to Istanbul and Baghdad at it's height - his other main achievement being to have marched 20,000 of his own men to death by trying to invade the Chinese mountains in winter). Needless to say, we loved them both.

But that's enough of the 'tourist' bit - it was then back on the road to some more adventure (and, thanks to some enterprising Uzbeks and the international language of hand waving, with a working mobile phone again after I dropped it in some water in Turkmenistan - hurrah!). First we headed northeast towards Tashkent, which we attempted (but failed to) circumnavigate, then further east heading for Andijon near the border with Kyrgyzstan with the intention of camping for the night. We then made a series of errors, not least of which was misjudging the remaining daylight and finding ourselves still on the road with darkness falling - bad news.   

To rectify this situation and find somewhere to sleep, we pulled into a large cafe in the next big town we came to - Angren. If in doubt (or the vicinity), NEVER EVER GO THERE (you'll thank me for this advice, trust me). Angren (from what we saw, admittedly, from the road, at night, but valid noneheless I think) consists of row after row of delapidated, seemingly derelict Russian tenement blocks - about the bleakest place I have ever seen. In the cafe, no-one spoke English except a customer, who turned out to be an Afghan carpet merchant with business in Uzbekistan, Italy and Switzerland. Hmm. Anyway, he was very friendly and started asking around for a hotel for us. He then lead us to the back of one of the aforementined tenement blocks. Father and I looked concerned. Up two flights of stairs and into an apartment, occupied by a man witout a shirt and an aged woman with a slightly odd blond perm (who Father, for some reason, took to referring to as Bo Derek - rarely has a description been less apt). A price was negotiated. That price was US$4 for both of us. We should have seen the rest coming.

It really is hard to do the apartment (two rooms) justice in words; the toilet smelled so badly I could barely enter the bathroom (which was next to it), our room consisted of four beds with chain-mail mattresses in a dingy room, and there was a milk pail next to the bath (for reasons I never fully understood). Needless to say, we settled down early with the intention of leaving at first light. It was not, however, an undisturbed night's sleep. In fact, it became apparent some time around 2.30am that Bo thought of this room as a dormatory, a view not shared by Father and I, and a third person (who looked and smelled like a truck driver) was sought to be introduced. Although we have little in common with the great colonialists, I feel a blow was struck for Britishness when the dispute was resolved in our favour (mainly by means of our feigning sleep and refusing to move our belongings), with the trucker taking some bedding and disappering, leaving us only to be disturbed by the dull roar from the road below and the occasional visit from Bo.

So Tuesday dawned and we escaped, spending much of the day trying to find, cross, then subsequently navigate away from, the Krgyz border (this was not entirely our fault, as the map we have shows the roads built by the Russians; the main road between two major towns in Kyrgyzstan would now cross (and re-cross) the border with Uzbekistan, but you don't find out that the road is closed until you get to the border...very frustrating). This was followed by another classic Soviet hotel; no sign outside (how do they expect to get custom?), no English, no hot water, no smile.

However, all is well and we are now in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, after a long drive through some spectacular mountain scenery today. You'll be pleased to know that Vauxy crossed a 3,500m mountain pass this afternoon and shows no ill effects of her little oil issues. I blame Turkmenistan for those wholeheartedly.

I should mention one other feature of recent days; the police. It started yesterday, when I was stopped twice for speeding inside 90 mins. To be fair, both times I was speeding, however both times, after a bit of playing the daft foreigner and failing to understand, I was let off with a bit of gesticulating and a friendly handshake. I was not so lucky this morning, caught doing 90kph in a 50kph limit (a supposedly built up area - one hut either side of the road). Still, I did manage to reduce the fine by half though claiming to have no money (which might not have been entirely true). You may be thinking that thus far it was all my fault, which is actually true, but I was pleased that Father wanted to get in on the act and mid-afternoon he was stopped at a police checkpoint. Although he would tell the story better than I, I understand that an English phrasebook was produced, whereupon it was (slowly and poorly) pronounced that "You have com-mitted a traffic vi-o-lat-ion". What was that violation? Yes, driving without headlights on in the brightest weather imaginable. They tried to get us to pay $20, but Father negotiated them down to $10. We then made the mistake of asking for a receipt; apparently you get a receipt if you pay $20, but not if you pay $10. Hmm again.

Anyway, must go as rumours abound that in Bishkek there is an Italian restaurant with a real Italian chef. This we can't miss - we have barely eaten for days (in answer to Nicky - sort of chinese noodles last night and lots of Shashlyk - so awful). We'll update when we can but we don't pass too many major cities in Kazakhstan, Russia and Mongolia so no promises on when.

Andrew

A few thankyous

A few thankyous are in order to those people who have helped us so far - no doubt more people will help in the weeks to come.

First, and foremost, there's Carolann. Without her forebearance and active help this team member would not be where he is today (in an internet cafe in Samarkand sheltering from the 35 degrees outside). Next, there are the people, particulary Lizzie, who have been helping to keep Carolann sane while the two men in her life behave irresponsibly.

Thanks also to Frances and Geoff for putting up Carolann and myself for the days before the rally, for coming to the launch, for taking Carolann back to Gatwick, and for the fruit cake (totally consumed by the time we left Klenova Castle!).

The dinner hosted by Mrs Ozkok and her two daughters, Erengul and Zeinab, in Istanbul was much appreciated. The afternoon trip the following day for this team member - a cruise north along the Bosphorous to the entrance to the Black sea, with lunch at a waterfront resaurant - was the perfect way to help forget the frustrations of applying for a visa to enter Azerbaijan.

Vauxy Lady has received some help along the way: Steve and John (AA) at Frankley Services on the M5 (see the blog entry), the manager and mechanics at Heath Motors, Hyde Heath, who checked that the warning light on VL's dashboard didn't signify a serious problem (so far it hasn't), and the mehanic in Ashgabat who fixed the oil leak quickly and for a fee we regarded as modest.

Finally, thanks to all those people who have made donations to our charities. It really does make a fifference to know that so many people have contributed. If you haven't yet contributed, it's not too late!

The Silk Road beckons...

Greetings from Bukhara, Uzbekistan!

Firstly, an apology for the lengthy delay in getting this latest blog up - we really are in the back of beyond now and have been out of touch (by no means entirely of our own choice) for quite a few days now. Secondly, an apology for the length of the blog below - lots to catch up on.

So where did we leave the story? After Istanbul we headed east across Turkey, to Georgia, Azerbaijan, the Caspian Sea, Turkmenistan and now Uzbekistan. All in around a week. I have no idea how to give you an impression of all of our adventures, so I'll go by country, if I may.

Georgia:

Highlights in summary: spectacular lush mountain scenery, taking a B road which lead to us the top of a 2000m mountain as dusk fell on a road which could not in truth be described as such, getting locked in a hotel and escaping via a window, cows sleeping on the main roads, seeing South Ossetia (complete with snow capped mountains) with our own eyes, the statue of Stalin still standing in Gori. So not much happenned. But it was brilliant and I would recommend it.

Azerbaijan:

Green scenery turned to scrub and the temperatures increased. Tedious (other than meeting an English resident) until we reached Baku, and commenced the fun game of 'Where might we find a gigantic ferry?'. Trickier than it sounds. Eventually we found the ferry terminal (a hut) and a car park/customs compound (another hut), where we found that some other teams had been living for 6 days already (! unable to move their cars) waiting for a ferry to Kazakhstan, with no one quite sure when or if it would arrive! They may still be there. Imagine, if you will, a festival site complete with tents, on a car park, with absolutely nothing to do and you get the picture. Fortunately there was a ferry to Turkmenistan that night, which finally left in the early hours of Sunday morning.

All sounds well and good I imagine? Not really. The ferrry was the least furnished vessell I am ever likely to see, with a Russian hostess (in her twilight years) shouting in Russian at the 8 rally teams on the boat and trying to abduct our passports (we had heard about this, and the subsequent extortion, from previous rally teams, so we fought hard to keep ours). Very welcoming. Other teams took to sleeping on deck as the cabins were so disgusting, but we braved it. The crossing to Turkmenistan was supposed to take 12 hours, and while the actual sailing took that long, we then had to wait for 20 further hours outside port until they found a berth for us! You can imagine the mood among the teams.

And from then on it only got better. After docking at 11am one morning, still wearing the clothes we boarded in 2 days previously (there were no showers on board), the Turkmenistani authorities then detained us for a further 9 hours while we had swine flu checks (the results of which were falsified), and cleared immigration and customs. Lots of doing nothing. The Turkmenistani immigration hall was a work of art; we counted 7 separate windows which we had to visit, in the correct sequence, most more than once, over the course of a number of hours, all the while being ordered around in a foreign language and being given, and having taken away, numerous bits of paper, none of which we had the slightest idea of what they said! Something like a novel by Franz Kafka, Father noted sagely. And we were charged outrageous sums for the privilege (leading to one other team running out of money completely).

Turkmenistan:

Our first Stan, and every bit as weird as we'd heard and hoped. This time it was deserts and camels sleeping in the middle of the road (having presumably learned from the Georgian cows - we feel camels are a step up). 

Also, Vauxy's first breakdown!! Father apparently thought we'd had it, I was (as ever) more optimistic.  In actual fact we couldn't have been luckier. The oil pressure warning light came on 5 km outside Ashgabat (the capital of Turkmenistan), and on inspection we discovered oil all over the engine (but none in it). We added the extra oil we were carrying and limped to the city limits and the first auto shop we could find, which finally directed us to a second auto shop across the road, specialising in Opels! They jacked up Vauxy and Father and I looked on like worried parents, but we needn't have feared - within a hour a tiny part (we still don't know what it was) had been produced and fitted, the leak had stopped, we had paid only $25 and we were on our way. I could have kissed that mechanic.

Ashgabat is the oddest place I've ever been. Turkmenistan is a police state dedicated (somewhat like a theme park) to is former President Niyazov (aka Turkmenbashi). There are gold statues of him everywhere. Rumour has it the current President is his illegitimate son. At the top of the 'Arch of Neutrality' in central Ashgabat there is a 12 m high solid gold statue of him which rotates to always face the sun. You're getting the idea.

In Turkmenistan every time you even approach a Government ministry, or take photos of almost anything, a policeman shouts at you, once leading to an amusing situation whereby we were being shouted at by a policeman on each side, both of whom directed us in opposite directions and both of whom took exception when we tried to follow the other's instructions. Funny, were it not the everyday reality for ordinary Turkmenistanis.

And now:

Bukhara and Samarkand, two of the great silk road towns. We're actually having a few days off here before the next stretch, which includes Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Russia and Mongolia. Let's see if the botch job on Vauxy holds...

Andrew 

Still İstanbul!!

...but not for long.

İts been a nervous couple of days. We headed for the Azerbaijani embassy yesterday morning before 10am, only to find that a number of other teams had beaten us there! Two hours of confusion followed, in which we queued, completed forms, were sent to a bank to pay inordinate (and still uncertain) amounts of money, and finally surrendered our passports - only to be told to come back today at 5pm! Another night in İstanbul, delightful as it is, was not what we wanted.

But all's well that ends well, and after a moderately terrifying taxi ride to the embassy this afternoon, we got our passports back, wıth beautiful handwritten visas to show for our investment.

So its on to Asia tomorrow morning, and hopefully Georgia within a couple of days. We'll update when we can.

Andrew

İstanbul!!

So the first leg of the rally is over, and Team Uncharted Waters are in good shape! We're currently holed up on the Eastern boundary of Europe, waiting for the Azerbaijani embassy to open tomorrow so that we can get the necessary visas and get moving again, but today is a very welcome day of rest.

So where have we been? Well, Europe has passed in a flash. After Prague we retraced our steps to the party at Klenova Castle, which was spectacular. İ shalln't bore you wıth details of the stellar entertainment or magnificent setting, but İ would direct you to the Gallery page of the website and partıcularly the 'Istanbul Gallery', which contains (among other delights) a photo of my Father in his Deacon Blue days (taken at the party). Who says actuaries don't know how to enjoy themselves? Oh yes, that would be me.

From there we headed South East. Hungary was attractive, Transylvania spectacular and İ slept through Slovakia. Nevermind, İ'm sure it was lovely. We're mostly staying in (frankly dodgy) guesthoues, the most memorable of which was on a road somewhere in Hungary (we never worked out where) - look for the picture of the Dallas Pizzeria and the picture of the bedroom, which was a bit lıke living in a magic eye picture. Not ideal first thing in the morning.

After that we dıd Bulgaria, where we stumbled upon a tourıst mecca (complete with citadel and light show) without realising it and got stuck in my favourite traffıc jam yet - the authorities (such as they were) had decided to close both roads off the top of a mountain at the same time, leaving us no way off. Fortunately, we were surrounded by much more irate Bulgarians so eventually a solution was negotiated without the need for us to intervene in English (which would doubtless have helped). We had further issues at the Turkish border, where İ managed to have a stamp on my passport cancelled for the second time in my life (something of an achıevement, İ think), but once out of the EU the roads have been brilliant and progress impressive. Long may it continue, but we hold out lıttle hope.

Anyway, thngs are good here in İstanbul. For one thing, we've managed to do some washing, which was becoming an issue. So after a rest here (and a hammam and barber shop for me) its eastwards again for us. Fortunately, we understand that the Russians have not invaded Georgia again yet, which is a bonus. Less fortunately, however, there may be some civil unrest in Kyrgyzstan due to their recent elections. Can't waıt.

A bientot,

Andrew

 P.S. İs it possible that İ forgot to mention that Father damaged Vauxy in an underground parking garage in Prague? Well he did!! Which gives me a get out of jail free card for when İ do it some real damage...

On the road

Cheesy title I know. Anyway, Team Uncharted Waters has now reached Prague! Two long days in the car have passed with no further breakdowns to report, so all is well.

Day 1 started at the Festival of Slow at Goodwood, at which it became apparent that (i) we were vastly underdressed and (ii) that our car, while in our eyes entirely unsuitable for the job in hand, was in fact pretty moderate (and tastefully decorated) compared to some of the other participants' attempts (a fire engine covered enitely in red fur? Step forward gentlemen). Anyway, out of England (via a nice trip on the M25) and to Bruges by nightfall for a decent steak frites and some local beer.

Day 2 was a tedious 650 mile trek through (mostly) Germany, punctuated with the occasional traffic jam and petrol station. Nothing to report, except my unmitigated joy at stopping for dinner literally 200m inside the Czech Republic and discovering that even so close to the unending boredom/efficiency of Germany, Eastern Europe is still an entirely different proposition - wood pannelling everywhere, a lack of parking (or any) regulation and goulash for dinner. Brilliant.  

Tonight is the Czechout party in Klenova Castle, so expect a blog in a few days when the gin wears off. 

P.S. I will upload some photos when I can, but unfortunately Father has run off with the correct cable! 

Our first problem...

... and the car's not even reached London yet! And when I say our problem, I write this from the restful peace of SE1 so really it was Father's problem. Anyway, after a two hour delay, and with the help of two very kindly AA men, Steve and John, the crank shaft sensor (whatever that might be) has been changed and the Vauxy Lady is back on the road!! Thanks chaps, next stop Goodwood (if the car makes it that far)... 

P.S. You may note below that Mr Crompton has rather impressively managed to leave a comment on the webpage. Assuming that you are as competent as he is (which I imagine you are), you could do so too! Get involved. Be part of the Rally! From your desk, obviously. As Kate told me the other week, bored office workers do make the best correspondents...

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