Having run into Team Pop to Mongolia in their Suzuki Jimny we decided to make headway late Sunday night, driving until sunset. With the Suzuki leading our convoy we turned off our finely honed navigational noses and relaxed, only to be led up the garden path 25 miles in the wrong direction. With the quick 50 mile detour under our belts we finally set up camp on the right road just as the sun was setting over the Gobi. The beautiful sunset turned into a terrific sandstorm tearing our absurdly large tent into shreds, snapping our carbon fibre poles in several places. Team Pop 2 Mongolia gallantly cooked for us in the back of their car before piling into the only available shelter (the back of the taxi) for a dinner of horse penis pasta and cherry tomatoes.

After a geometrically constrained night’s sleep the old girl coughed into life at 0550. After much gripping of the dashboard we bumped back onto the road and straight down the wrong one for 10 miles. After that piece of Monckton navigation was rectified we careered after a minivan heading for Bayankhongor for about half a mile until our beautifully modified exhaust pipe fell off. Unfortunately we had attached it far too well underneath and it took one hell of a battering with a hammer before it came loose and stopped dragging. The remaining exhaust pipe on the roof is merely ornamental. The exhaust now blasts straight out of the side of the engine, making a fantastic rally growl but pumps carbon monoxide straight through the passenger footwell.

Two hours later we found ourselves in the unusual position of knowing where we were. Unfortunately that was slap bang in...[Read More]