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Despite all the adventures and hardships of the rally up to this point, it quickly became apparent that the real adventure began at the Mongolian border. As we were crossing the large stretch of No-Man's Land, I joked about how it would be really funny if the pavement suddenly ended as soon as we crossed onto the Mongolian side. It wasn't a joke... We were thrown head-on into rutted dirt road with large rocks sticking up everywhere. The previous night, one team rolled their Jimmy on these roads when one of their rear tires blew. One of the guys had been leaning out of the window filming, and had just sat back down when they rolled, and he was thrown from the vehicle. Luckily he only suffered a concussion and some cuts and grazes, and made it out without any broken bones. The driver came out relatively unscathed. It's always frightening to see one of your fellow ralliers (or anybody) get hurt, because their is this bond of camaraderie based around how we're all in this thing together. I didn't know those guys personally, but I later met the driver, who actually gave me his sleeping bag to use since they weren't going to continue. Sadly, these wouldn't be the only people we would encounter who had serious accidents along the way in Mongolia. There have been people in the past rallies who had car accidents, but they were rare. With the vast numbers of teams this year, though, the chances of them occurring definitely raised.

We got to the Mongolian border around noon, and we could see a parking lot full of rally cars on the other side. It was noon, so the border people were taking their 2 hour lunch break, and we had to sit outside the border for a couple hours. There were two little kids that were running around the cars (about 7 had piled up), and they would peak their curious faces into the windows to see what cool gadgets we all had. A herd of goats passed the cars, and some of them began trying to eat the bumper off of one of the Italian cars. Eventually we were let in, and we were given the information that once again, The Adventurists had screwed up. We were stamped into the country, and then they took our car documents, but we weren't allowed into the country. We were told that The Adventurists hadn't paid enough money to process the rest of the cars through the border. The Adventurists told us they were on it, and that they would sort things out that day, but once again the Finance Minister went missing, and it was his signature that we were waiting on. All of us were facing another freezing night on the border, and there were now about 35 teams piled up.

We managed to book a night in a lady's Ger, but when we went to go eat a delicious meal of meat dumplings, we were told that she had promised the beds to a team that had been there the night before. To rectify things, however, she took us to her house and put us up in one of the sections of the house. Andrew and I slept on a little pull-out futon, 2drew (Skoda driver) slept on a little mattress on the floor, and Joe used a camping pad on the floor. When we sat down to eat, we pulled out a bottle of vodka, and the grandmother at the Ger started drinking with us. We were told not to give her vodka by another rallier, because the night before she had been so drunk that she was all over one of the rally guys and embarrassing the family. We tried to hide the vodka every time we took a shot, but sometimes it was unavoidable. Apparently she accidentally gave her 2 year-old gandson some vodka from somebody else's glass at one point, and he started marching around with his arm in a salute. When it was time for the tyke to go to bed, his mother told us it was time for us to go to bed as well. We learned that we had displaced him from his bed, so he had to sleep on a rug in the kitchen. We felt bad for a moment, but the lovely warm house and protection from the freezing night was more than enough to make us forget.

The next day we walked back to the border station to see if they would let us drive our vehicles. At this point they told us they were waiting for a signature from the head customs official, and now they couldn't find him. We weren't sure what the issue was, but we were afraid that the border people were holding us there because we were throwing so much money into their economy (everyone that worked at the border lived in the little town). To waste some time, Joe and I first went and had a lovely lunch of dumplings, then decided to climb the mountain that overlooked the parking lot. We asked if Andrew wanted to join us, but apparently him and 2drew were the little dots of people that we had seen at the top of the mountain earlier that day. We were joined by some Brits and an amazing German named Karsten and his Czech teammate Robert (who would later save us countless times along the way) and hiked our way up the, well, more of a massive hill than a mountain. It nearly killed all of us to hike; after 5+ weeks of sitting in the same position in cars, all of us are probably in the worst shape of our lives.

The top of the hill was definitely worth it. In all directions you could see snow-capped mountains off in the distance. In the valleys you could see little Ger villages dotting the landscape. Karsten brought out his hipflask and shot glasses that attach to his belt, and we celebrated our climb to the top. It was clear that none of the cars were going to be moving, so we wasted more time using camera tricks of Joe's to take pictures of us doing ridiculous things, such as jumping off "cliffs." After that we played a game involving us trying to throw rocks at a piece of metal lying on the ground from a distance. We played Brits vs. Yanks vs. Germans, and Joe and I put them all away. At this point we noticed a massive crowd of people hurrying towards the border building, and we thought that they were finally going to let us go.

We rushed down the mountain to be greeted by actual guards, as opposed to just border people, and they didn't look happy at all. Two of them were going around trying to confiscate cameras, so I quickly hid mine away in a car. Two rally cars were parked in front of the border gates, and next thing I knew, one of the drivers was being led away. There were about 8 guards around, and they all had their batons drawn. Apparently the ralliers decided to form a sit-in to try and force the issue of letting us through. In my opinion, and a shared opinion by many inside, this was pointless because they were only going to upset the lowest people on a totem pole, and if they let us through, they would just get in trouble by their superiors. We figured this would more than likely just make them hold onto our documents longer once they finally went through. After awhile about 40 people came out of the customs office, their sit-in over. After an hour or so, we finally got through to the adventurists, and we were able to start the process of finally leaving the border. I don't know if the sit-in worked in any way, but I guarantee that every person that participated will say it was their sit-in that finally let us go.

Our teams (Andrew/Me, Joe/Tim, 2drew) were one of the last to be processed, and we decided to grab a bite to eat before heading on our way. We followed the main road for awhile until it finally stopped a chained gate. There was a road going around, but we started heading back thinking we had missed the turn-off (as one of the routes through Mongolia is literally impossible without a 4x4). We turned around and headed back about 10 minutes until we realized that the road we had seen was definitely not a main road, but at this point a Mongolian said he was going to Olgii, and would show us the way if we gave him a ride. We started driving, but then our exhaust fell on the ground and began dragging, so I hopped out and tried to fix it. Nearly every bolt holding it to the underside of the vehicle was gone, and there was one screw about to come off that held half of the thing together. I managed to rig it up, and we started on our way again.

Before we actually started on the road to Olgii the Mongolian took us to his family's house for some tea and biscuits. We met both of his parents, his brother, and many of their friends. It turns out that the house has hosted over 100 ralliers over the years for tea once they have crossed the border. After our visit, we hopped back in the cars, and then headed on our way towards Olgii. At this point it was getting dark, and by the time we reached the base of a rather large mountain, it was completely black out. Joe stopped his car with concern that it was having problems, and that there was no power, but I told him it was because of the altitude. We were more than a mile up at the border, and we were going nearly straight up a large mountain. A 2.0l car will noticeably struggle at these altitudes in Colorado, for example, and Joe was driving a .899l car. We started up the mountain, and neither Joe's car or my car had it in it to keep going. To make matters worse, neither of our cars had rear brakes left, so there was no way to stop on the mountain without turning the cars perpendicular to the road.

At this point a jeep came up behind us, and another jeep came down from the front. The one from the top of the mountain turned out to be the brother of the Mongolian we were giving a lift to. He had a friend in the jeep with him, and the back was full of giant barrels of diesel fuel that they were importing from Russia. The jeep behind had about four people in it, and we figured they were friends of these guys as well, as they hopped out of the car to help too. The brother in the jeep came out like he was on speed. He was incredibly intense, and all too eager to help. We had a climbing rope we had taken from the Batlimo, and we attached it to our tow hook, and then jeep towed us up the mountain for the spots that our engine couldn't handle.

2drew was already up the mountain, but he had broken the 1.2l rule, so he didn't have an issue. I was out of the car to make it lighter, and then the guys from the back jeep started helping Joe and Tim walk their bags up the mountain to make their car lighter. They were out of the jeep, but the jeep had gone to the top of the mountain to wait. We were just going to take it to 2drew's car, but for some reason he turned on his car and drove away. We got about halfway up the mountain when the jeep circled back to pick up the rubiks cube, so I grabbed the two big bags and lugged them the rest of the way up the mountain alone. When I got to the top, I began hearing somebody blowing a whistle in the near distance, and it gave me a very strange feeling. I asked our friend about it, and he started walking me up the mountain. He said the jeep wasn't a problem, and then showed me this massive pile of rocks which is a tribute to Chinggis Khaan. You are supposed to walked three times clockwise around the pile, and then make an offering (usually another rock) for good luck.

I must mention at this point that Chinggis Khaan is pretty much revered as a god in this country. The western conception is of a brutal warlord who was commonly called "The Scourge of God." The Mongolians remember him for far different reasons. It is true that he was a brutal warlord, but he also brought more power and wealth to the Mongolians than they ever had, and have had since. On top of that, he also developed the concept of diplomatic immunity. Up until this point, foreign diplomats were generally used as hostages, but the "Great Khaan" developed the idea of their immunity in foreign lands. The Mongolians also didn't see him as being overly brutal. When he would reach new lands, he would tell the people there that they could either surrender and be integrated into the empire, or stand and fight. If they were to be integrated into the empire, they would receive tax benefits and retain some of their autonomy, but if they fought, then most times they were brutally slaughtered. Chinggis Khaan was also well known for his lawmaking, and even more so because he invented the written form of the Mongolian language. It's impossible to deny that the man was a brutal warlord, but every great civilization at the time was build upon warfare. It is just interesting how much the western conception of a this man has overshadowed all the great things he accomplished in his life.

So anyway, we all finally got towed up the mountain, and then we pulled out the vodka and some beers and marched around the rock pile and all celebrated that our cars made it. He drank with all our new friends, then hopped back in the cars to make it down the other side of the mountain to Olgii. One jeep headed left along the mountain ridge, and the one with our friend's brother led the way for us. The roads were deeply rutted, and the going was incredibly treacherous. Luckily we were able to follow the jeep for easiest route, but that wasn't easy in any way. Finally, about 40km from Olgii we made it back onto a tarmaced road. We were still going incredibly slow, and wondering why this was the case when our question was suddenly answered by massive cows crossing the road in front of us. Shortly we arrived at our friend's sister's house, and he was going to put us up for the night. It was at this point the Tim started freaking out because his small backpack was missing. the contents included 400 dollars, his passport, 200 dollars in presents for his mom and family, a 400 dollar camera lens, sunglasses, and all the memory cards for his camera; photography was the main incentive to go on this trip, as Tim is a photographer and artist.

The Mongolians were incredibly worried about the passport, and they told us to hurry back up the mountain to see if we had set it outside the car when we had taken bags up the mountain. Neither Joe's or my car would make it, and 2drew was exhausted from being the only driver of his car, and he wasn't comfortable letting anybody else drive it because his CV joints were bad. We ended up paying the Mongolians to drive us back up in the Jeep, but first they had to unload their barrels of diesel fuel. They finally got these unloaded, and Joe, Tim, and I hopped in the car to go search for this bag. Joe and I were trying to rationalize what could have happened, and the more we talked, the more felt like the other jeep had been incredibly suspicious. The ride up the mountain seemed to take infinitely longer than getting down, even though we were tearing through the terrain in this guy's jeep. We got to the top of the mountain and used the jeep lights to look for a bag, but we couldn't find one. Then we headed back down the mountain to where the cars got stuck and looked there. It was at this point that I experienced one of the strangest nights on the rally.

It was our friend's brother that had come with us, and he started getting on the phone, and he was soon very suspicious of the other jeep. He spoke almost no English, and Joe only had his limited Russian to go on, but we soon got the idea that this other jeep was actually not their friends. We rode to the top of the mountain, and the brother crouched in the dirt to see the direction of the tire treads from where we had last seen the jeep. Next thing we know we are tearing through the Mongolian mountain tops in the middle of the night without any moonlight to help show the way. We drove for hours on a bounty hunt for the Ger where the guy with the other jeep sleeps. Finally we pulled up at one, and the brother immediately got out and began pounding on the door of the Ger. Somebody finally came out, and the brother dragged him into the car and told him to take us to where the guy was sleeping. We were apparently at his Ger, but he was sleeping at another one.

We arrived at the other Ger after a bit, and once again he began pounding on the door, and pulled the guys out and began questioning them. By the way, the stars on top of that mountain were some of the most amazing I have ever seen in my life, with multiple sightings of shooting stars. They opened the jeep and talked for a long time, and after awhile, the brother finally decided that they didn't have the bag, and said they were good guys. The driver of our jeep had apparently not slept in 2 days, and couldn't drive us all the way back to Olgii, but the guys at the Ger said we could sleep there. Next thing I know we're being led into one of the two Gers at this place, and the guy points to one of the beds and tells Joe and I to lay down. We hop in immediately and he pulls a blanket over us. I slept on a metal bar of the bed frame all night, and Joe sank into the middle of the saggy springs of this tiny bed. Tim slept on the floor, and the owner of the Ger literally tucked him in. After only a few hours, the sun came up, and the animals began making noises, from the goats, to the lambs, to the cows, and sleep was then impossible. The owner came in and told us to get up, and Joe and I obediently hopped out of bed and put our shoes on. Joe and I reckon we have never gotten into, and out of bed so quickly in our whole lives.

We drove our jeep back to the top of the mountain where we had last seen the "shady" jeep, and that's when we found one of Tim's gloves on the ground. It was precisely where the other jeep had been parked last night. Ironically, we not only slept in the Ger of the thief, but he even tucked Tim in. The brother told us he would notify the police, and they would send somebody up there, but we were pretty sure that we would never see that bag again. Tim was devastated, and was even considering just flying to UB to get a temporary passport as fast as possible so he could leave. We went back to the house and woke up Andrew and 2drew, who had no idea where we were for the entire night. We related our story of midnight mountainside bounty hunting, and then sat down for a meal. We spent some time with our hosts, then decided to head on.

In the city we ran into Karsten and Robert, as well as two Spaniards, Juan and Nuria, who they had been traveling with since Iran. We all filled up with petrol, and then headed out on the road towards Khovd. I was in the lead, and misunderstood the directions from our hosts who came to see us off, and took the wrong side road. It was a brutally rutted road with massive rocks everywhere. I had been driving about 5 minutes when slammed into a rock which shook the whole car. We drove for a bit more, then stopped when we saw another rally car stopped on the side of the road who were having overheating problems. Our exhaust had come off again, but when I went to get under the car, I saw oil spewing from our oil sump from a massive hole. Disgusted, I slammed my gloves on the ground and told Andrew we had to turn around. Luckily, the Germans had a tow-bar, and they agreed to drag us into town to a mechanic. They had metal-bonding putty, but we would have to drain the sump and clean it with petrol before we could use it.

The Spaniards followed us into town, using our oil trail as a guide. Eventually 2drew and Joe noticed we were gone, and they also turned back. We dropped the car off at the mechanic, and then went to lunch. We came back from lunch a couple hours later, and they had done no work because they didn't have the right tools. This ended up being a whole day process, and they also were going to fix our exhaust. They managed to finally fix the sump and connect the exhaust, but the repairs from Kazakhstan were now defunct again. We said it was fine, but our Transmission leak from a week before was now worse. They were going to check the levels and top it up, but for some reason our lovely French car manufacturers decided to put a square screw on the transmission. This requires a special tool that doesn't come in any standard tool kit, unless the kit is massive. We spent the next several hours watching the mechanics pound bolts into squares, just trying to make one fit. We were never able to get it off, no matter what we attempted. At this point it was nearly dark, so we went for dinner, where I had my first encounter with eating horse! It actually wasn't that good, but I think I'd try it again and hope that it was just the way it was prepared... We checked into a hotel, and decided to head on to Khovd the next day.

The next morning, Andrew and I discussed what to do about the car. Andrew was tired of fixing it every 5 days, and decided to call the Adventurists to come pick it up. I felt uneasy, because our main worry was the transmission/gearbox, and it had lasted this long with a leak. On top of that, our friends had waited an entire day with us, and then we were going to give up the car without trying to drive it further. Andrew finally agreed to drive it around the block once to warm up transmission fluid, to see if we had any left (by checking the leak). When Andrew pulled back into the parking lot, the car was making an awful metal grinding noise. The hub bearing we had fixed about 5 days before had snapped again. Apparently driving on a bad bearing for 12000 miles has pretty disastrous effects on a car. That was the end of it. At the end of its life with us, we had managed to take the Saxo over 12100 miles, farther than any other rally car would travel by at least 2000 miles, barring the people that are driving their cars back to England. When the guy came to take the car away, he couldn't even shift it into 1st gear. So at the end of its life, the Sax had a whole list of ailments: no working exhaust, broken transmission, broken gearbox, no rear brakes, no rear window, and a snapped hub bearing. We said our goodbyes, and then hopped into the Skoda that would be our new home with 2drew for the rest of the Mongol rally. It was bittersweet; we weren't going to make it to Ulaan Baatar with "The Enterprise", but we would no longer have to fix it every five days.

As this entry has gotten extraordinarily long, I will talk about the rest of Mongolia in another entry. Thanks for staying tuned.

---Team Flatlanders---