Ending Point: N48°28 E90°36
Distance Traveled: 104.0 miles
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Charla and Chase woke up as the sun was beginning to illuminate the amazing landscapes around our camp. Unfortunately, we are early risers, and we knew that it would take a long time for all of the other teams to get prepared to leave; taking advantage of this extra time, and following up on something he’d wanted to do for weeks, Chase started walking away from camp. Our camp was surrounded by large hills or small mountains, however you wish to describe them, and Chase wanted to climb one. He picked one nearby, and just started climbing; it was gradual at first, but the top third of the mountain involved quite a scramble. After stopping to catch his breath a couple times he completed the final scramble up the hill, and was able to look around and enjoy the surroundings. Looking back the way we had come last night, Chase could still see the border area structures and further could see Siberia’s snow-capped peaks to the north. In the other direction, he could see the road we were going to take today winding into the distance before passing behind more hills; the road passed a couple lakes and a few yurts before it disappeared. And, by looking back where he had just climbed, he could see his camp very small below him. However, the most magical sight was looking over the other side of the mountain: on the other side of the mountain there were no structures, no major roads, and few indications that other humans had ever set foot on that steppe before. It was beautiful. Chase, alone and on top of the hill, sat and breathed it all in for a few minutes. Eventually he could see movement in camp, and he certainly didn’t want to miss breakfast, so he gathered his thoughts and his camera, placed one more stone on the cairn on top of the hill, and descended back to camp, picking wildflowers for Charla has he went. Unfortunately for Team Turnagain, the entire day didn’t match that magical feel. We started having exhaust problems back in Kazakhstan, but today was the day when an ill-placed rock actually tore the exhaust pipe off the engine. Oh no! Our first idea was simply to break the exhaust completely off the car right there, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy; the exhaust pipe passed over the rear axle on its way to the muffler, which meant we couldn’t remove it from the front or the rear. Luckily Daniel, a Norwegian solo-driver of team Mongol Viking whom we’d met earlier in the day, had some metal wire that we used to tie the exhaust to the underbody. Our thought was that if we could make it to the next town we could find a mechanic who could cut the exhaust from the muffler, thus allowing us to remove them in two pieces. It was a great plan, until the wire job only held for approximately forty or fifty feet before we were back on the side of the road. Now understanding that we needed some type of roadside fix, we had to start getting creative. (It’s what the Mongol Rally is all about!) Daniel brought a crowbar out from the back of his Alto, and with a serious amount of effort we were finally able to use the crowbar to break the weld connecting the exhaust and the muffler. Once the weld was finally broken and we could remove both pieces separately, it was time to get back on the road. We had suffered an hour delay, but at least it was in a beautiful location! Throughout the afternoon we had been slowly but steadily gaining elevation, and when we finally stopped for the night we were well and truly in the mountains. Our camp was under two beautifully snow-capped peaks, and the views all around were spectacular. The only problem with our camp, though, was that temperatures tend to get a little chilly when you’re at over 8,000 feet elevation. In our not-very-thorough planning, we had pictured Mongolia to be full of deserts and warm temperatures, and we were woefully ill-prepared for a night that would see ice forming on the outside of the tent. We didn’t all hang out around camp as much as usual, since it was much warmer in our sleeping bags, but we did spare a little time to take in the majestic mountains before putting on every article of clothing we had and shivering ourselves to sleep. Starting Point: N49°29 E89°43
Ending Point: N48°28 E90°36 Distance Traveled: 104.0 miles
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At sunrise we were on the road again and heading into the Altai Mountains. The road we were driving was a stunning road that clung to the side of mountains as roaring rivers flowed beneath us in deep valleys. In the brief interludes when the pouring rain stopped, the low-hanging clouds enshrined everything in mist and gave an eerie quality to the beauty we were witnessing. We discovered later this afternoon that the road we had driven was supposed to be the nicest drive in Siberia according to Lonely Planet, and I believe it! By early afternoon we had reached the border to exit Russia, and we were all ecstatic. For weeks Mongolia had been a theoretical concept; sure, it was always our goal, but it was also so far away. All of a sudden we were knocking on Mongolia’s door, and the years of dreaming and months of planning had actually paid off! Now we just had to get let in. While we were waiting in line in Russia we met Team Detour, a Swedish team in a snazzy new Škoda, and they decided they’d stick with us through the border crossing as well. It only took us two hours to get out of Russia, and with no idea what to expect we pulled out of Customs Control. As we were pulling out Charla asked Chase at what point he thought the paved road would end; before he could even answer, we realized that the pavement literally stopped at Russia’s legal edge. Welcome to Mongolia! After we spent many hours waiting for Mongolia to process our paperwork, all four teams legally entered the country at around 8PM. We had no intention of driving in the dark, so we drove about five kilometers away from the border and set up a massive camp on the side of the road. That night we cooked a giant camp stove feast and passed around a few bottles to celebrate that we had made it! Although we definitely knew that the hardest part of the trip was yet to come… Starting Point: N51°40 E85°46
Ending Point: N49°29 E89°43 Distance Traveled: 328.4 miles It didn’t take long for us to reach the Russian border once we left Semey this morning. Funnily enough, that actually was a bit of a problem for us because we didn’t have a chance to blow our last remaining tenge on candy and beer at the last shop before the border, as was our custom. We did have the pleasure of meeting Raf at the border, who was a Belgian bicyclist riding from Brussels to Ulaanbataar. We were stuck at the border with Raf because we had the unfortunate timing to arrive as the night shift of border patrol was ending. At 8:30AM the border officer told Raf that he only had thirty minutes left on his shift and he wanted to spend those relaxing rather than working. We all waited for thirty minutes, and we excitedly greeted the new border officer who showed up exactly at 9 o’clock. Imagine our chagrin when he told us he had just woken up, and it would probably be about half an hour until he got his coffee and had some food. Exactly an hour after we arrived at 8:30, the morning shift finally took our paperwork and admitted us at 9:30. For the second time on our journey, we were back in Russia! Pretty soon over the border we recognized two other Rally cars even though we couldn’t tell who was in them, so we pulled them over discover our crazy South Africans who had cooked up breakfast back in Almaty! They were a part of There and Bactrian, a team of two South Africans, a Brit, and an Aussie, and they were convoying with Geographically Displaced, a team of large Norwegian men in a very small car. We quickly joined their convoy, and made the all-important stop of the day: the tire shop. The Mongol Rally can be described as a tour of the world’s tire shops, and somehow we had made it this far without getting to visit any ourselves. For the exorbitant price of 100 rubles (a little over $3) we got our tire fixed, while each of the other teams also got their tires in tip-top shape in preparation of entering Mongolia tomorrow. After a longer stop than was expected, we were on our way towards the Altai Mountains with our new friends! Starting Point: N46°04 E80°46
Ending Point: N51°40 E85°46 Distance Traveled: 481.0 miles Our day started when we wandered into the hostel’s kitchens to find two South Africans cooking a breakfast feast while lamenting that their Rally clothes hadn’t been enough to get them past the strict dress codes of Almaty’s clubs the night before. After a quick run to the shop to contribute ingredients, we sat back and spent the morning in the kitchen swapping stories and eating like royalty. Eventually around noon we decided it was time to hit the road, but one thing first: Chase wanted to check out the Green Bazaar, Almaty’s largest bazaar. Once we reunited with the Elephants and the Lumberyaks it was off to the Bazaar, only to discover that it was closed on Mondays. Luckily for us though there was a little market next door, where Chase was able to purchase the much-coveted traditional Kazakh hats. By the time we left the market (and we watched the Elephants and Lumberyaks get pulled over by Almaty’s finest), it was already after 3PM; rather than hitting the road at such a late hour, we decided to spend the afternoon doing personal admin and then meet with Chase’s friend Aggey in the evening. Right around sunset Aggey arrived at our hostel and offered to take us on a tour of his city. Aggey has spent his entire life living in Almaty and climbing tall peaks around the world; in June he had been in Alaska to climb Denali, and when he met Chase the two decided that they’d have to meet up during the Rally. Aggey’s pride in Almaty and in Kazakhstan in general was obvious as he told us the history of this major city at the crossroads of Central Asia. Well before we rolled into town in our Panda, the Mongols had crossed the Kazakh steppe, the traders of the Silk Road had plied their wares, the Soviet Union annexed Kazakhstan, revolution had led to the world’s longest-serving President in a “democracy,” and rapid development and modernization in a shrinking and increasingly-connected world all proved that Almaty is truly the social, cultural, historical, and financial capital of this interesting country. The highlight of the evening was when Aggey brought us to Kishlak, a traditional Kazakh restaurant in the heart of the city. Like Kazakhs, we drank green tea and fermented mare’s milk while reclining beside the low table that was surrounded by beautiful tapestries on the walls. Aggey explained that a “kishlak” is the name for a large camp when multiple families of traveling nomads all temporarily join together; the perfect symbolic parallel to our convoys all camping together in the Kazakh desert! We feasted on traditional meals ordered by Aggey, and went to bed that night with full stomachs, active imaginations, and a strong desire to make it back to this wonderful city. Starting Point: N43°13 E76°56
Ending Point: N43°13 E76°56 Distance Traveled: 5.3 miles Today marked exactly two weeks from our target finish line party! Let’s hope we make it! Our morning by the lakeside started with a bit of shopping in the local market for supplies for a delicious breakfast in the apartment kitchen. As we were finishing our meal, the woman who helped us with renting the apartment made the first of her appearances for the day, which was a bit odd considering it was 9AM and we were checking out at 3PM. We made it clear that we did not want to reserve another night and for her sake agreed to check out an hour earlier. Thinking things were clear, we went down to the beach on the lake nearby for a bit of swimming and to take photos. The lake looked much better in the sunlight than it had the night before under grey skies. Charla even found a nice captain’s hat to go with our pirate-maritime theme on the trip (yes, we know we’re not on the sea)! Back at the apartment, the renting assistant lady made a second appearance, this time a much less pleasant one, as she barged in while we were trying to get dressed, packed, and have lunch before leaving in a couple hours. After all of her fuss, we tossed our bags outside and ate lunch from our camping plates on the street. Needless to say, we were not impressed. Hoping for a better atmosphere, we headed to Sambuca Café in nearby Cholpon-Ata (the main beach town on the north side of the lake) for some afternoon refreshments, Internet, and planning for the day. As we left the busy beach town overrun with folks from the capitol on holiday, the day dramatically improved. Traffic thinned down and the road narrowed. The scenery, however, remained just as beautiful, as we could see snow-capped mountains across the lake on one side and the rugged mountains closer by on our side of the lake. Soon, we found ourselves in Karakol. We came to this small town because a couple weeks ago in Volgograd, Russia, we met Daniel at the Local Hostel, who had opened a coffee shop called Karakol Coffee. He gave us his business card, so we looked around town for a logo that matched. Before arriving at the coffee shop, we met two Israeli tourists here for trekking and looking for a place to stay; we were excited to meet other backpackers, as we knew there had to be good stuff in this town! A few blocks after meeting them, we were at Karakol Coffee for a chat with Aikerim. Then, we were on our way to An Artisan’s Guesthouse with Katie, who is from Washington and studying the traditional Kyrgyz lute here. Once settled in, we returned to Karakol Coffee to hang out for the evening—the first time we have really relaxed in ages.
Starting Point: N42°39 E77°12 Ending Point: N42°29 E78°22 Distance Traveled: 97.3 miles Judging by the crowd, we began our day in Bishkek much like everyone else: with a trip to the main bazaar. We were happier with our room choice for the previous night when we just had to walk a couple blocks to reach the bazaar and passed a bakery on the way, where Charla found a slice of breakfast honey-chocolate cake. As we walked around, Chase found his breakfast in the bazaar itself—meat on a stick and a fresh meat and potato samosa. While the food was great, the beverage was not; sour coconut milk is not a good pairing with fresh, delicious food. The good far out-weighed the bad in the bazaar, especially once Charla found some stylish leggings that put together the Union Jack and the Icelandic flag. She’s ready for some cooler temperatures once we get to high altitude in Russia. After a good morning in the market, we left town for the famed Lake Issyk Kul. We took a route that mixed directions from our paper map and Google Maps, being sure that we didn’t accidentally re-enter Kazakhstan and use the last of our available entries, and the drive was gorgeous. We passed between Kazakh and Kyrgyz mountains, over some small rivers, and through a sunflower field before rejoining the main road that took us through the mountain pass and on to the lake. We thought the somewhat heavy traffic on the still-under-construction road was somewhat normal until we arrived in the town of Bosteri and started looking for a place to stay. We checked out a few places as we searched for the one Rashid recommended, and we soon found out it was a holiday weekend in a lake-beach town at full capacity. Luckily, we had been trying the find a place while following a man in a Toyota who seemed to know what was going on. When we got a chance to talk to Mairambek, who had spent a year living in the US, he told us about his search for a room and kindly helped us find an apartment near the town market before finding his own. We were thankful once we settled in and then went for a walk around the neighborhood and down to the beach. Our walk back took us through a small market (tiny compared with the one we had experienced in the morning) where Charla picked up some fresh vegetables to add to dinner. Today’s lesson: Fresh coconut, good. Sour coconut milk, not good. Starting Point: N42°53 E74°36
Ending Point: N42°39 E77°12 Distance Traveled: 182.6 miles We started our day with a strangely simple but elaborate breakfast at the Pensiunea Minerva in Halmagel, Romania. We knew we had a lot of miles to cover to reach the beach party, and after missing the Pit Stop Party in Sibiu, there was no way we would miss the beach party! We hit the road after breakfast, and with the road conditions in that part of Romania, pieces of the Pandas were hitting the road as well. Thankfully, the road conditions improved as we approached Deva and stayed fairly nice all the way through Sibiu, including a section of brand-new highway that did not last too long because the road itself was under construction. From Sibiu, we found our way to the start of the legendary Transfagarasan, picking up a couple other Rally cars before stopping at the end of the straight stretch of road leading to the mountains (where a kind old lady came out to greet us with apples and her tiny fluffly dog). Now, as we head into the mountains, we should clarify: the Transfagarasan is no ordinary highway. The Transfagarasan is a strip of windy asphalt directly up and over the Fagarasan mountains, and it attracts drivers from all over the world; Jeremy Clarksson, the world-famous driver from Top Gear called the Transfagarasan “the most beautiful road in the world” after his team conquered it in Ferraris and Aston Martins. If it was good enough for Jeremy Clarksson, the road was definitely good enough for us, even though we were driving a different Italian car that starts with an F. By the time we started gaining elevation, our convoy had grown to five small cars struggling with the slope. We slowly creeped uphill, continuously switchbacking and crawling up, and occasionally stopped for photos as the Romanian farmland shrank from sight and opened up magnificent views. Towards the top of the Transfagarasan, the switchbacks practically double-back on themselves, searching for any route that can continue up, and creating a route so insane that our road map actually gave up trying to trace its course. After kilometers and kilometers of steep grades and blind corners we finally made it to the peak, and we could look down at the road we had just climbed. It was a glorious sight: in the foreground, a ribbon of asphalt that so tangled that it could tie itself in a knot, and in the background farmland stretching to the horizon. By now our convoy had grown to eight teams, and there were many hugs and high fives with photos being taken of various countries’ flags being held proudly in the wind. Not to be outdone, the trip down was spectacular as well. Shortly after the surprise herd of wild horses on a blind downhill corner, our brakes began overheating. Before a crisis could actually strike, we found a pull-off to cool off our brakes and allow the entire convoy time for sandwiches and snacks. After a while of enjoying the sunshine on the mountainside, it was time to head off. Not surprisingly, the trip down the mountain was much faster than the trip up, and before long we were back on the highway driving towards Bucharest. Driving through Bucharest was quite the adventure, though of a completely different sort than the Transfagarasan. Charla nearly had a heart attack navigating, as there were no road signs to be found. She remembered talking to a Romanian guy in Halmagel, and we made a right turn after the President’s House in the center of the city that led us along the canal to exit the city on the correct road. Spotting a couple other Mongol Rally cars out in the distance was fairly helpful too! Once we made it on to the highway, the frequency of Rally car-spotting increased. We were indeed headed the right way! Once in Mamaia, our convoy was cut off by a Rally car using us for directions; we had made it over a thousand miles together and got separated five miles from the party. We went straight to the beach and awaited the others. We celebrated our success with a beach party with the other Ralliers! Starting Point: N46°16 E22°36
Ending Point: N44°16 E 28°37 Distance Traveled: 474.9 miles Today we spent the afternoon taking in some of Trieste’s history by visiting the Civico Museo del Castello di San Giusto, or the Castle of San Giusto. The castle is built on one of the highest points in the city, not far from the water, and was a strategic point for defending the port. With such a location the walk up and down through the steep hills certainly counted for our cardio for the day. Built over the remains of a previous castle, construction on this castle was started in the 1400s. The views from the castle were amazing looking over the city, and its use as a defensive post was very clear. Furthermore, the castle’s armory was filled with centuries-old swords, guns, and assorted weapons that were fascinating to examine. Our evening began with a look into Trieste’s more recent history, as we attended a performance at the Teatro Verdi--1913 Trieste a Teatro, put on to celebrate a hundred years of opera in Trieste and the opening of the theater’s exhibit at the Civico Museo Teatrale “Carlo Schmidl.” The Teatro Verdi is like a small version of La Scala in Milan, and we were lucky to have great seats with other Joyce School students. After the opera, we met up with everyone involved with the Joyce School for a farewell dinner at L’Antico Panada hosted by Irish ambassador Patrick Hennessy. It was a full Italian dinner of many courses, which provided lots of time for great conversation with our friends from the week.
The Trieste Joyce School was our reason for coming to this amazing city that inspired the writer some hundred years ago as he lived and worked here as an English teacher. Organized by a group of dedicated professors, the School’s daily program featured two lectures (and a coffee break at Bar alla Motonave!) in the morning session and seminar groups on different texts in the afternoon. Most nights included some kind of evening program, which we will get to later in the blog. While Charla went to the lectures, Chase went exploring in the beautiful city of Trieste. He wandered out along the seawall to the lighthouse in the port, and then came back to meet Charla for a picnic lunch of Nutella sandwiches in the Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia. After lunch Charla went back to her seminar, and Chase explored the ruins of the Roman Theater in Trieste. The School arranged for an evening visiting the Santuario di Monrupino in the hills surrounding the city and practically in Slovenia. Reaching the church took us on a short walk further up a hill that granted us amazing views of the city and the sea, as it appeared to be one of the highest points in the area. While walking around the church area, we got to know some of the other students and lecturers at the School. From the church the entire group traveled to Milič, a local osmica that participates in the trendy agriturismo method of farm-to-table food. Osmicas are farms that are found in this local region, and they specialize in ham, salami, cheese, and red wine. While the entire group was at Milič for dinner, Mark Axelrod gave a reading from his book Borges’ Travel, Hemingway’s Garage. We really enjoyed our evening of good food and new friends.
The coach dropped us off around 12:30 AM at Heathrow at terminals 1-3, where it is also possible to take a train to terminals 4 and 5. Unfortunately, the train doesn’t run late at night/early in the morning, so we were stuck in that part of the airport for a few hours. Many folks had already found their places among lines of chairs. Clearly, none of these people had explored the terminal before setting up, as a short walk led us to the plush British Airways first class check-in waiting area, where we spent the night The hours passed quickly, and soon we were boarding our Alitalia flight to Roma in the mass of a most confusing queue/herd of people. The British attempted to queue neatly, but the Italian passengers made sure that didn’t happen. After a short flight to Roma that took us on a scenic journey over the Alps, we boarded an even shorter flight to Trieste that took us over the Adriatic Sea. Landing in Trieste, we discovered a herd of interestingly dressed people, who we later heard were en route to a music festival in Croatia. [Again, note to selves: Research festivals nearby.]
A drive along the coast brought us into the gorgeous city of Trieste, whose architecture is a mixed salad of Italian and Austro-Hungarian Imperial seaside styles. We admired the sea and the city while eating pizza after Charla checked in at the Trieste Joyce School. In true Italian fashion, our night ended with a walk around Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia and some gelato. |