Weeks 21 to 25: Return to the West – Magadan to Europe: 25th August to 26th September 20149/26/2014 Hello! It’s been a long old few weeks since leaving Magadan and it’s taken us just over a month to traverse the Russian landmass and arrive back at the Latvian border to Europe. What a slog!
After leaving Magadan we began the long (12,000km odd) journey home, but before we could completely wave away any sense of adventure, Ed wanted to attempt the Old Summer Road (one of the oldest sections of the Road of Bones). And on August 27th we attempted it, managing only 45km from the southern side which incorporated three river crossings, plenty of mud, puddles and lots of excitement for Ed. What finally stopped us in our tracks was a gaping hole ahead of us, where over a third of the road had crumbled down the mountainside. It was too dangerous to continue and Ed felt satisfied. Finally in his mind, it was time to head home as we both realised that the trip so far had given us everything we had ever wanted and far exceeded our expectations. We really didn’t want or need anything else… only to get the truck home in one piece. The thought of the long drive was excruciating, but we had to just break it down in our minds into small chunks, only ever looking as far as the next town. Once we arrived back on the tarmac (M58) we would be able to put in +500km per day and really make some progress. For now however, we had to retrace the gravel surfaced road back to Yakutsk and then ‘the road in construction’ back to the M58 (which was dusty and terrible). The return to Yakutsk actually turned out to be very pleasant. The weather remained warm and sunny and on one day, we even sunbathed by a river for a few hours at lunchtime. On 28th August Ed pulled over to transfer some diesel and suddenly was knocking on the window to get my attention. I climbed out of the cab and there, on the opposite bank of the river where we had parked was a giant male reindeer. He had huge antlers that gleamed red in the sunshine and a big bushy white chest. The river was quite wide, so he seemed quite far away. I got the film camera out and put it on full zoom and we managed to get some lovely shots of him paddling on the river bank and staring at the crows swooping around his antlers. It was magical. We finally reached the blissful tarmac of the M58 on the 4th September and during that time we had only had one chilly day. The remainder had been sun, sun, sun. We also reflected on how different the road looked on the return journey and much more scenic. You can’t really drive the same road twice (visually) if you are doing it in opposite directions and the road surface wasn’t even as bad as we had remembered. Overall however, the roads had been cruel to the truck. We had a tear in one tyre, a puncture in another and four chips on the windscreen, of which one had developed into a crack. It was a joy to be on the tarmac, but Ed noticed an odd wobble (this was after he had swapped the front and back tyres around) and a strange vibrating noise coming from somewhere (it turned out to be a tear in the gear stick holder). Also two of the cupboard doors kept falling off in the back and the lock on the bathroom door had somehow snapped off during all the juddering. To add insult to injury, the inside of the truck was also caked with dust from all the thousands of kilometres of gravel roads we had endured since 16th August, and we didn’t see the point in cleaning it until we reached the tarmac. We really were rotters and as dusty and grimy as the truck by that point. Hehe. We arrived successfully (and a bit cleaner) at the blue sapphire shores of Lake Baikal on the evening of 7th September and the sun shone warmly for us. Ed found a marvellous spot alongside a pretty pebbled beach opposite the lake and we watched the pink sun set over the infinite blue horizon of the lake. Baikal is the deepest and oldest freshwater lake in the world and we would be skirting the southern tip of it, now on our way to Irkutsk. On 8th September we enjoyed the lake (and both took a chilly dip!) and the following day we visited a lovely open air museum (the Siberian equivalent of St Fagans), which displayed different types of Siberian architecture, from early Teepee’s to even a beautiful town built entirely from wood (Silver Birch). It was a beautiful place and a footpath through the woods took you past all of the stunningly crafted buildings, and all the way to a sandy9 beach opposite Lake Baikal. It was bliss and we sat on the sand for a little while enjoying the view (eating an icecream), and I am surprised to admit it in the stunning warm sunshine; it was still pushing 23 degrees. Finally on 10th September, we really had to get going and drive, drive, drive, and that’s exactly what we have been doing. Twelve hours (plus) a day, every day, stopping only to eat and sleep. It hasn’t been easy. We took the Russian haul road from Irkutsk to Krasnoryarsk, Novorsibirsk, Kurgan, Chelyabinsk, Ufa, Samara and then to Moscow crossing the Ural Mountains (where we had some snow!) on 17th September and the River Volga (at Samara) on 19th September. Generally the weather was ok, but the temperature dropped severely and we were waking up to frosts (and snow in the Urals). Thankfully however, the diesel heater inside the truck (which has caused us much grief) finally started to work properly (wahoo!) otherwise we would have frozen and the entire experience would have been a miserable one indeed. For the most part we have been chasing eternal autumn since leaving Magadan and the most beautiful displays of colour were definitely between Chita and Ulan-Ude (before reaching Baikal). The hillsides were ablaze with neon oranges through to bright yellows and the richest, pinkest cherry-raspberry reds I have ever seen. It was breath taking, and on that particular day the multi-coloured trees were shrouded in mist and it was a gloomy day but the landscape exuded a glow of its very own. It was amazing. The landscape west of Baikal as far as Chelyabinsk was mundanely flat as a pancake and comprised hay fields as far as the horizon, dotted with coppices of silver birch. Eventually you stopped looking out of the window because everything looked the same and the trip became an internal one, pondering the eventuality that we would soon be home. The present became a blur. Beyond Chelyabinsk however, the landscape finally rose and became interesting again as we entered the southern arm of the Ural Mountains; the natural barrier between Europe and the East. They are not particularly large (around the same height as Snowdon), but they were covered in snow and as we ascended them, fat pretty snowflakes descended from the skies and it was very special. The brightly coloured reds, coppers and bronzes of the autumnal silver birches were dusted in snow and it looked very strange to see Autumn and Winter at the same time. It almost looked artificial. Subsequently, as we undulated over the Urals to Ufa, we were much more cheery. The snow was a wonderful change and although it was chilly, we had a landscape to look at again. Also, unexpectedly, the Ural Mountains are a bit touristy, as we passed several crafts markets selling everything from Samovars (Russian urns for boiling hot water), to Matryoshka Dolls (the Russian dolls that fit one inside the other), knives, art and even crockery and beautiful jewellery boxes made from local minerals (namely onyx). We happily stopped to explore a few of the stalls for souveniers and were impressed once more by the warm humour of the Russians, joking at us for not speaking Russian, but all the while friendly and very approachable. We continued west and crossed the River Volga on 19th September at Samara where the power of the river had been harnessed for the production of hydroelectricity. We drove over the hydroelectric dam in the warm sunshine (the snowy Urals now far behind us) and the view of the Volga was quite unusual as on our right, the water being damned was almost equal height with the road, but on our left, some metres below us was a beautiful river valley of the Volga. From Samara we continued north-west towards Moskva (Moscow), passing pretty Russian villages where every other house had a stall outside selling their harvest (from their own allotments). Giant orange pumpkins sat alongside yams, bright red tomatoes, onions and stacks of potatoes. We also passed stalls selling buckets of beautiful yellow Chanterelle mushrooms collected from the woods, jars of golden honey and homemade pickles and jam, and all the while the babushka’s sat out merrily in the sun, chatting away to their neighbours with brightly coloured scarves on their heads. What made us chuckle however, was that within some villages, a determined and proud babushka could be seen sat next to a small table attempting to sell one prized pumpkin, a single beetroot, one carrot and one jar of jam. (I am sat here even now, regretting that we didn’t buy her prized pumpkin. Hehe). But however small their stalls, it didn’t seem to deter them from joining in with the rest of the village. It was really lovely to experience and such a shame you can’t see anything like it in the U.K….. Finally, on the evening of 20th September we spent the night with the HGVs in a layby some 50km south of Moskva. Sadly, we woke the following morning to find we had a flat tyre. It was our fourth puncture of the trip and Ed had to change it before we could attempt the Moskva Ring Road (Russian equivalent of the M25). The truck was now very weary…. We were using the spare wheel (the torn one now on the roof), Ed had discovered that one of the shock absorbers had gone and on the smooth tarmac, it felt like the truck had a limp. Ed let some air out of the tyres to try and balance the vehicle a bit better and it was then that we decided perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to head down to southern Europe to enjoy the Mediterranean. We were as weary as the truck…. Our backs were aching from all the driving, Ed had cut his eyebrow and cheek whilst attempting to change one of the wheels (it was lucky he didn’t need stitches) and to be honest we were starting to get a bit fed up. More than anything we wanted to get into Europe and then breathe a huge sigh of relief and then, slowly hobble our way home. And on Monday 22nd September we did cross the border into the West and the golden stars of the European flag circling ‘Latvia’ was a welcome sight indeed. We had made it! It is now Friday 26th September and we have been chilling out in Lithuania enjoying the lakes and the scenery. We plan to do lots of walking over the next few weeks as we make our way down to Cracow and to the Black Forest in Germany before finally heading back to Blightly, as our legs haven’t been used much of late. We’ve gone soft! Also, this is our last blog and we hope you have enjoyed sharing the adventure with us. I want to say a big, big Thank You for all the messages received with regards to the blog, and Ed and I find it genuinely touching that so many of you have taken the time to read it. Thank you sincerely for your support and kind words. They mean a lot J We’re not going to promise when we will be home, but not long now mam. Miss you all. Lots of Love. Ros and Ed.
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Hello (Privet in Russian). We are in Siberia! Again, I apologise that the blogs have been a bit behind, but as you might already know, we made it to Magadan on the evening of 24th August! We are totally exhausted, but totally elated at the same time. It’s been a long olde few weeks…… After saying goodbye to Mongolia and crossing the border on Monday 11th August we drove north towards a Siberian town called Ulan Ude (not far from Baikal which we would be visiting in a few weeks time on the journey home). From the border we were greeted by perfect tarmac, road signs and infrastructure. Dirt tracks (for now) were a thing of the past. We arrived successfully in Ulan Ude late that evening and kept our eyes peeled for a hotel as we wanted to register our presence in Russia. Our understanding of the ‘rules’ was that registration was required if you were spending more than 7 working days in the same province. Technically (therefore), we didn’t need to register, but we wanted to err on the side of caution in case we were fined at the border by some dodgy border guard. It was better to be safe than sorry. We drove through Ulan Ude (a bustling modern looking city) during the late Monday evening rush hour which was highly stressful for Ed, so we sacked off looking for a hotel in town and spotted one on the outskirts. The receptionist inside had Mongolian features and of course she couldn’t understand a word we were saying, while trying to explain we wanted a room, ‘only’ if she could register us. She kindly however, called a friend who could speak English and passed the phone to Ed. Subsequently it transpired that she wasn’t allowed to register us and we had to go to a larger hotel, perplexing us immensely…. It was getting late, so we kindly asked her if we could spend the night in the car park and she agreed, (in the end) not charging us a penny. The following morning we left Ulan Ude before 7am, driving once more through the city centre looking for a hotel. A one way system and very busy roads (even so early in the morning) made it a difficult place to navigate and so we decided to try our luck in the next Siberian town called Chita, located some 650km away to the east. The scenery for the next two days comprised rolling pastures and pretty rivers punctuated by rustic villages filled with dark timber framed houses. The sun shone warmly since the minute we crossed the border and unexpectedly it was hot (at least 25 degrees Celsius!) and not how we had imagined Siberia at all. Forests of mixed coniferous and deciduous trees occasionally lined the roads and we spotted predominantly silver birch, willow and mountain ash growing side by side with the conifers. Near the small towns and villages men worked the fields by hand, cutting the hay with scythes and loading up rickety old tractors in the warm sunshine and in the gardens of the pretty wooden homes, crops of potatoes and sunflowers were neatly arranged in well kept allotments and giant piles of wood were being chopped and stacked in preparation for the winter. As in Mongolia (and many of the Central Asian countries we had visited), livestock roamed the streets freely and it always caused us amusement (cows are mostly to blame) when they refused to get out of the road. The landscape had a serenity and peacefulness about it and it was lovely. Along the sides of the roads we also spotted people bending among the shrubs where the forest receded from the road, and realised they were foraging for blueberries. Sadly, we never got round to stopping and picking any ourselves…. Possibly on the way back when we had more time. That evening we spent the night away from the main road hiding down a forest track. The air smelled strongly of pine and the sun glimmered through the trees. It was a lovely evening and we were very content to be in Siberia. So far it had been a very pleasant experience indeed. On Wednesday 13th August we arrived in Chita by late afternoon, and managed to park a few kilometres out of town which allowed us to explore potential hotels on foot. Unbeknown to us however, we had lost two hours since leaving Mongolia and were now GMT+9hrs ahead. Chita was a pleasant city and felt more modern and bustling than Ulan Ude. We walked down a hill and into the town centre which comprised a large square with landscaped gardens flanked by large smart Government buildings in the Renaissance style. The sun shone warmly, but we could see dark clouds rolling in from the east as we walked up the steps of a posh looking hotel (Mont Blanc). It was a huge hotel and located right in the centre of town, so hopes of registration were high (as well as a bath!). It turned out the hotel would register us, but they were very busy and wanted £123 (eqv.) for a room! It was a bit steep, so Ed started to haggle (no doubt using his beard to distract them). Hilariously no word of English was spoken (as we would expect) but somehow we managed to communicate with the two ladies at the desk for more than 20 minutes using the receptionist’s iPad and Google Translate. They were very kind and explained that the hotel was almost fully booked, pointing at the stacks of Chinese passports (that also required processing for registration). Finally they conceded to offer us a room for half the price if we agreed to only occupy it for only 12hrs (from 8pm until 8am). It was already 7pm by this time, so we agreed. Sadly however, we had to walk two and a half miles back to the truck to get our migration slips (given to us at the border) as we didn’t realise we would need them to register…. On the trot back to the truck the dark clouds caught up with us and the heavens opened. We got absolutely drenched….. Finally by 10pm we checked into the room (looking like drowned rats) and Ed decided he thought it was best if he returned to the truck just in case it was broken into during the night. I wasn’t happy letting him go alone, but to all intents and purposes we had to stay at the hotel to be registered and the receptionist promised to return our passports when we checked out the following morning. Needless to say, I took advantage of the bath, hot water and free Wifi while Ed slinked out of the hotel un-noticed, and in heroic style returned to the truck on his lonesome (which incidentally we had parked outside a graveyard)…. Because we had lost 2hrs the previous day, we actually had to check out at 6am (our time). Subsequently Ed arrived at 7.15am (5.15am eqv.) and we checked out – registered passports in hand (and with a pair of complimentary slippers that I had pilfered from the room). That morning we frequented the Beeline Offices and sorted out our mobile internet dongle before continuing east to Magadan. Ed had checked the distance and we had roughly more than 5,000km from Chita to our final destination. It was going to be a long slog. On the night of 14th August we parked in a beautiful meadow full of golden grass and wild flowers and all day we had marvelled at the colours of Siberia on show in late summer. Almost everywhere we spotted pretty pink balsam which had seeded in the hot sunshine and filled the pastures with a stunning magenta hue alongside beautiful fluffy grasses and flame-red shrubs. It was lovely. For a time we had also driven alongside the Trans Siberian Railway and spotted trains mostly pulling endless carriage after carriage of what looked like oil and/or chemicals (and very few passenger trains). It was great to see such an iconic landmark of Russia and Siberia however, and it certainly put a smile on Ed’s face. The following day (August 15th), it was Ed’s 33rd birthday. :p xxxx We got on the road early and stopped at a pretty stream where I made Ed a birthday full English breakfast, and I suggested we take it easy and do something nice, but all Ed wanted for his birthday was to drive through Siberia…. He was easily pleased and was eager to get the miles in to Magadan. Similarly, we were conscious of the fact that summer in Siberia was coming to an end and apparently there is no autumn here, someone flicks a switch and then suddenly its winter. Having said that, as we drove further east, we noticed the nights getting considerably cooler and morning mists started to appear rising from the forests and it certainly began to feel a bit autumnal. On the 15th we also received a text from Jeroen (heading the Dutch Campereis Convoy that we had met previously in Western Kazakhstan and then in Kyrgyzstan). Jeroen’s message indicated that he was one day ahead of us and he was eager to know where we were, and suggested we convoy to Magadan with him. All things considered, Ed and I agreed that this was a very sensible idea as Ed had no idea what the roads would be like the closer we got to Magadan and most importantly he was desperate to drive (even a small section) of the ‘Old Summer Road’, part of the original ‘Road of Bones’ which we had heard was currently impassable. Jeroen’s huge MAN truck would be able to pull us out if we got stuck in the Siberian mud and equally we could provide him with the same security. Also one of Jeroen’s party (Virginia) spoke fluent Russian which meant we could give up our flamboyant hand gestures when trying to communicate with the locals. We decided to catch up with them as best we could. By late afternoon the scenery changed to pointed mountains carpeted in mixed deciduous woodland and all other views diminished. One thing we had noticed however, was that the Siberian forest appeared to be in a cycle of burning (purging) and regeneration. Occasionally large swathes of tall lifeless tree trucks would flank the roads and spread up the mountain sides. They looked all spindly like thousands of giant matchsticks and gave the landscape an oppressive eerie feel. That night we parked down a forestry track just off the main road and as luck would have it, we had a full mobile signal and so Ed managed to get online and read all of his birthday messages (on FB and by text). Ed: ‘Big hugs for all my lovely birthday messages’. On Saturday 16th we continued east towards the junction where the M58 (our current road) met the M56 (the road north to Yakutsk). The Siberian sun was shining potently once more and by late afternoon we had arrived on the Kolyma Highway (M56). It was a real landmark for Ed and to reach it was a huge achievement and milestone of the trip. We were now well on our way to Magadan and the Road of Bones (or so we thought….). Sadly, the road from the M58/M56 junction to Yakutsk was utterly horrendous and our progressed slowed considerably. The Kolyma Highway was under construction and about 90% of it comprised an ungraded gravel surface full of undulations and worst still…. The dust! Every time a vehicle passed or overtook us there was a total white out and we chocked and sputtered depressingly, hour after painful hour. Evidently it hadn’t rained for a while and now we longed for ‘just a little bit of rain’ to dampen down the dusty road. For two and a half gruelling days our bones rattled and our backs and necks ached as we slowly trundled (at a measley 20mph) along one of the worst roads of the trip so far. It was more than 1,200km(!!!) to Yakutsk, and on 18th August we put in a 14 hour long driving day on this horrendous road in an attempt to catch up with the Dutch. What made the experience even more challenging (apart from the dust and the constant bone rattling), was that the only views out of the window for two and a half days were of thick forest lining the road (and the trees were covered in ugly brown mud and dust). It was mentally and physically tough and in the backs of our minds we knew we would have to do it ALL again on the return journey home, as there was only one road to Yakutsk. It didn’t bear thinking about at the moment. Finally at 10pm we arrived in time to watch the sunset over the river Lena and rejoiced as the worst road in the world dissolved into featherlike tarmac on the approach to Yakutsk. And there awaiting us, alongside the river bank were the two remaining vehicles of the Dutch convoy parked opposite the Lena (in the Yakutsk Ferry Car Park). To say we were happy to see them was an understatement. Stiff and extremely tired we hopped out to greet Jeroen, Yolande, Virginia and Angeline and we spent a few minutes greeting them (whilst being mullered by mosquitoes) before dragging our fatigued souls and battered bodies to bed. The world was a much nicer place after Yakutsk. The following day (Tuesday 19th) we had all agreed to leave early as everyone was anxious to get to Magadan while the weather remained dry and warm. We were under no illusions that we were in Siberia and that the summer could end in the blink of an eye which would leave us in a real pickle. The Road of Bones officially starts north of Yakutsk and Ed was totally excited to finally be driving on it. It is called the Road of Bones because legend has it (now confirmed) that the bodies of deceased Gulag prisoners were interred into the road during its construction from the 1930’s (originally under the orders of Joseph Stalin). The prisoners were largely ordinary educated people who posed (in Stalin’s view), a potential political threat to his Communist regime. Teachers, poets, scientists, artists and philosophers, they were normal peaceful human beings and their sentence was one of brutality, hardship and starvation. Their purpose (once sent to the Gulags) was to construct the road from Yakutsk to Magadan and to work in the platinum and gold mines until their bodies gave in to sickness, fatigue and the harsh Siberian winter. In the sunshine however, we tried to enjoy the beautiful scenery. The thick Siberian forests of the previous few days had now receded to reveal wonderful golden hay fields, rustic Russian villages and stunningly pretty lakes. The land definitely began to glow with the colours of autumn with the silver birches alongside the road decaying to bright yellows and even the conifers (possibly larch) to dark bronze and reds. Horses waded in the cool waters and curious cows crossed the road, and all the while the Siberian sun shone through the truck window. It was pleasant indeed. At lunchtime we followed the Dutch convoy, stopping at a small café to eat. It was a sweet little place with several wooden picnic-style benches covered in table cloths and with lace curtains hovering over the windows. Virginia ordered the food and Ed and I tucked into meatballs, plov and some wonderful salads (day I say it!). By late afternoon we finally arrived at the banks of the River Aldan. The river was enormous and the only way to cross it was by ferry boat. Subsequently for the first time during our trip (excluding the boat from Dover to Calais) the truck got its sea legs on…. Hehe. All three of our vehicles squeezed on to the ferry (we got on last) and at first it didn’t look like there was enough room. How wrong we were however, as the ferry boat wouldn’t leave the shore until it was completely full. Over the course of an hour we waited for more vehicles to turn up and only after two Uaz’s (which look like old fashioned VW campers) and two small cars squeezed on, were we finally allowed to set off. The evening sunshine was wonderful and it was lovely to watch Siberia drift by with a warm breeze on our faces. The river sparkled in the sunlight and the banks were lined with sandy beaches flanked by the Siberian Taiga (coniferous woodland). We kept our eyes peeled to the shore (for bears) and simply enjoyed the 1.5hr boat ride from the top deck. The truck was perfectly happy having a well deserved rest, as was Ed after the recent relentless driving. We chatted merrily to Jeroen, Jolande, Virginia and Angeline and the time flew by. Eventually the port town of Khandyga appeared before us and it was time to exit the boat (and pay the ‘unknown’ fee for the crossing which turned out to be 3000 Rubles; £50). In the evening sunlight we passed through the quaint town of Khandyga which was one of the most beautiful we had seen in all of Central Asia and Russia. The faces of the locals were distinctly Mongolian; the descendants of nomadic reindeer herders that historically occupied this area of Siberia. The houses were in the typical Russian style however, built from dark timber with ornate carved windows and doors painted in bright colours ranging from orange to blue to green. All of the gardens comprised beautiful allotments filled with vegetables (to keep the inhabitants through the winter) and one garden was especially beautiful and filled with blazen red flowering gladioli. It was utterly lovely and so very remote. The people here were grafters, but above all else they were survivors. We had noticed that in the faces of the rural Russian men was a determination and grit that we don’t see back at home in the UK. Mostly they always looked sooo mean! For one thing they are all incredibly physical and capable, and could probably fix and build anything they set their minds too. And they are tough, which makes them extra frightening because they have all likely completed some kind of military service and know exactly how to punch someone in the face. Having said that, every single Russian man that has approached us to say hello and ask about the truck (mostly this occurs at fuel stations) have been incredibly kind, so looks are evidently deceiving. After passing through town we eventually stopped for the night down a pretty off road track opposite a tributary of the River Aldan. Ed and I immediately scrambled down the steep muddy bank to the pebbly beach and soaked up the beautiful view of the river which glowed purple and grey in the late evening sunlight. Albeit the mosquitoes were out on force, Ed skimmed some stones and I took some photos. We were so happy (once more) to be in Siberia after the awful few days before Yakutsk. It was fantastic sharing the road with the Dutch and an additional benefit was that it was much easier to get to sleep at night being part of a convoy. You didn’t have to keep one ear twitching. We woke to another misty morning on Wednesday 20th August and set off early once more along the Kolyma Highway (Road of Bones) on route to Magadan. The plan for today was to visit the Gulag museum for which Jeroen had a GPS location. Unfortunately the museum had been moved to a school located within a village more than 70km further away and by some luck we managed to find it. There were no signs indicating its existence and it bemused us how any non-Russian speaking tourist would have a chance. With Virginia with us, we got directions. It amazed me once more that even though we were in one of the most remote places on the earth, life still went on as normal. The school building housing the Gulag exhibit was modern looking and well looked after with a picket fence painted in wonderful pastel hues. The playground had swings and slides and huge Russian tyres had also been painted in bright colours and used as giant plant pots for happy sunflowers. Inside, a very sweet Russian lady with blue eyes and blonde hair greeted us and we entered a large room; one part library and office and one part an exhibition displaying information about the Gulag’s. There were maps, photographs and artefacts displayed in cabinets and Virginia kindly translated everything in English because ashamedly (for us) Jeroen, Yolande, Angeline and Virginia all spoke English as well as Dutch! It was wonderfully insightful and an experience we would never had achieved on our own. We learned that over 700,000 people (men and women) died building the Road of Bones and working in the gold and platinum mines, and by the end of the 1960’s there were 3.5million people living and working in the gulag camps. Artefacts from the camps included hand tools, bits of clothing and old wooden (original) kilometre markers. Because of the permafrost in Siberia, the road had to be built on a wooden base constructed from felled trees which were laid perpendicular to the road surface, to prevent the overlying gravel stone surface sinking into metres of bog through the summer months (when the permafrost partially melts). We were shown a map displaying the headquarters of the Gulag camps and told that every 10 to 15km a Gulag was positioned along the road. In addition Gulags were also created for the mining of gold (and platinum) and it is estimated that one person died for every kilogram of gold extracted from this area of Siberia. That was the price of a human life. We left the museum in the warm Siberian sunshine and albeit it was another beautiful day, thinking about all the people that had suffered here definitely weighed us down. We continued north east and the road began to rise in altitude. Yakutsk is only about 150mASL which explained the low-lying wetlands we had visited since leaving the town. Now we were heading into beautiful high peaked mountains with only the less elevated hills carpeted in dark green forest. The road surface was excellent (albeit not tarmac) and we managed to cover a couple more hundred kilometres over the course of the afternoon. Over that time the road traversed beautiful crystal clean rivers which meandered through the mountains with large gravel and sand beaches along the banks. The vistas were exactly how we had imagined Siberia and we were expecting to see a bear any minute, splashing around in the emerald green pools. All the while, the trees and short shrubs lining the road continued to glow with the colours of autumn, but now that we were further north, the elevated slopes of the mountains were covered in a pale green grey lichen that looked like pale sand from a distance. All the while, large areas of the road were under construction and we passed over a brand new bridge (recently completed) at the bottom of a stunning valley. The road was filled with giant dumpers and machines and huge Russian vehicles pushing soil around and of course, Ed loved it. That evening we ascended another valley before catching up with the Dutch (they drive faster than us) where they had made camp along a gravel river bed opposite a crystal clear gushing river. Soon Ed and Jeroen had started a fire and we were all warming ourselves around it and enjoying the wonderful views of the mountains from whence we came. Suddenly a large Russian Ural turned up from nowhere and three men inside waved at us cheerily as they drove passed. It turned out they were also camping along the river (slightly further down) and thirty minutes later one of the men came to visit us. He looked to be in his early thirties and had brown hair and a wonderfully kind open smile. In his hand was a bucket of live fish; greyling that he had just caught and he was offering them to us as a gift, but urged us to eat them raw, i.e. Siberian Sushi! Ed and Virginia immediately agreed to try it and I initially shied out of the way. Soon he was filleting them alongside the river and sprinkling them with salt and pepper. Everyone was eating it, so of course I tried some!!!! And it was totally fantastic and had the most wonderful flavour – almost herbal. There were so many in the bucket however, that we agreed to keep some to grill on the BBQ the following evening. We invited the kind young man to sit by the fire with us and Virginia offered him all sorts (beer, vodka) but he would only take tea. Once more with the presence of Virginia, we were able to talk to the young man and we discovered that he was working as one of the engineers, installing the piles for the road (which incidentally had to be at least 40m deep to support it!). They were only able to work in the summer months and he shocked us when he explained that within 6 weeks temperatures in this area would drop to minus 40’C! It was hard to imagine when day in and day out (since crossing the border) the sun had shone warmly and the daytime temperatures hadn’t dropped below 20’C. As dusk approached we waited for the Siberian stars to appear, all still huddled around the fire (now it was cold!). The young Russian shook his head however (when Virginia enquired about the Siberian stars), and he said ‘No. Tonight it will be a white night’. And he was right. For the first time in my life I experienced an everlasting twilight (although we did spot 3 stars in the pale sky before we went to bed ;p). We were reminded of how far north we actually were (but not yet the furthest north we would be) and it started to feel more and more like we were experiencing Siberia. On 21st August we woke to a very chilly morning by the river, setting off at 7am. Ed had kept the heating on all night, so we slept very happily and all cosy in the truck (don’t worry mam!). We had chatted with Jeroen and the decision was made to make it to Magadan within the next three days as we didn’t want to push our luck with the weather. The conversation with the lovely local Russian lad last night (I am so sorry I need to check his name with Virginia) had made us all a bit anxious that the Siberian Summer was very soon going to come to an end. We were reminded again that there is no autumn here. Just summer and winter. Also the fact that we had had no rain for 10 days straight was also a worry – surely we were due some. All the while Ed was torn as he knew that Magadan was the goal, but he yearned to attempt to drive the Old Summer Road as the recent dry and warm weather would mean we had a chance of completing at least part of it; the river crossings would be low and mud was likely to be in less supply! In the end however, it was agreed to make it to Magadan first and attempt the Old Summer Road on the way back to Yakutsk. We would have to pray for more sun and suffer the fate of the road gods! We set off, the Dutch disappearing in a cloud of dust as they were much faster than us (but we would always meet up at the end of the day). The early morning sunshine was utterly beautiful and very soon we were passing through a stunningly enchanting valley where the forest had once more receded from the road to reveal an almost ‘heathland’ style landscape, that was definitely coloured with the hues of autumn. Bright reds and dark pinks were intermingled with golden yellows and rich bronze as the late summer grasses and shrubs accepted the end of summer. It was so ridiculously beautiful that we had to get out of the truck and breathe in the air (and take some photos). Also the view that Siberia had no autumn (for me) was blown out of the water. We were clearly experiencing it in full bloom, along with the cool nights and misty mornings. The landscape glowed with an opulence that fed the eyes and soothed the soul. It was really quite romantic. By lunchtime the autumn hues were replaced by milky blues lakes and deep foreboding bogs and in some places it was obvious that large areas of lowland had been flooded following construction of the road, where swathes of dead trees rotted in the deep swampy waters. It was still a pleasant landscape however, and we stopped for lunch opposite a pretty lake where wading birds straddled the water’s edge. Later in the afternoon we ascended once more into forested mountains on a winding steep mountain track, closely approaching our most northerly point of the entire trip. The previous evening, our young Russian visitor had told us that there were no bears in this area as they had nothing to eat. As we turned one of the meandering bends however, Ed started shouting ‘Bear Bear!’ and literally metres from the truck (running alongside it) in the ditch of the road under Ed’s window, was a black bear! We couldn’t believe our eyes! Within seconds it had bounded up the banking and was out of sight. Ed stopped the truck and we scanned the forest edge, and then Ed was shouting again ‘Bear Bear’! And there was another one (or possibly the same bear), running ahead of us across the road! It wasn’t massive (possibly a juvenile) and about 1m long and it dashed off the road just in time to avoid an oncoming Uaz. The men in the Uaz smiled gleefully giving us the thumbs up as they passed by. Obviously they were out of the moon to see a bear as well! We were so incredibly lucky to have seen it. It took us a while to calm down! About 10 minutes after the bear sighting we reached our most northerly point of the trip: 64.61 degrees north and it is our understanding that the Arctic Circle is 67 degrees north (the UK is 56). It was a triumphant moment and we gave a ‘whoop whoop’ to celebrate to milestone. Only one left to go now – Magadan, which would be the furthest east we had ever been. That evening we caught up with the Dutch who had parked just off the main road (kindly allowing us to spot them easily). The last hundred kilometres of the day had seen the end of the ‘scenic’ stretch of road (which largely started in Yakutsk) and instead the views were replaced by dark foreboding (treeless) covered mountains of schist and slate. The track was black where the local material had been used to surface the road, and the overall effect of the landscape was one of a slate quarry. The Dutch already had a fire going and kindly shared the remaining greyling with us which was grilling on the fire. It was delicious and we supplemented it with our own homemade potatoe curry and eggy bread. We were shattered and so made for an early night. On the morning of 22nd August we were ready to go at 7am and Jeroen told us to head off first as they would catch us up. We did just that and throughout the course of the day the Dutch never did catch us up. We got a bit worried and stopped for several breaks and a long lunch but there was still no sign of them. Eventually in the late afternoon we arrived at a large town (with mobile reception) and then two text messages arrived to Ed’s phone indicating that Jeroen had tyre trouble and had to back track to the nearest village for repair. Subsequently they would be returning to the campsite of the previous night. We however, had almost completed our quota (of 450km) and so conceded that we would likely now re-meet the Dutch in Magadan. The scenery that day made us finally realise the source of the Siberian gold that fuelled the opening of the Gulags in the 1930’s. About 50km north of a town called Susuman and for the remainder of the day we passed stockpile after stockpile of alluvial river gravels – dumped everywhere. There was nothing else in the valley. Occasionally we would see large machines processing the gravels with screeners and Ed spotted several water tanks and silt busters. Originally we thought that the gravel was perhaps material stockpiled in preparation for repair of the road, but the stockpiles just went on and on as far as the eye could see for hundreds of kilometres within the river valley. The entire operation was on an epic scale and all the while the road of bones meandered within the carnage. We drove on and on that day until the track ascended into the mountains again, and literally about 20 minutes before we stopped for the night, we had our second bear sighting! Much like the previous day we turned around a bend and there it was; another black bear (slightly further ahead this time) and running along the ditch on the left side of the road, it’s black and golden bottom bouncing up and down as it ran away from us. Seconds after, it bounded up the bank and was out of sight! We were totally elated to have seen two bears in two days and knew that lady luck was shining on us. We were just hoping that she would shine on us a bit longer and keep the weather warm and dry. Not long after the bear siting we pulled down a forested track and spent the night hiding in the woods parked in a shallow stream (yes actually parked in the water). It was a quaint little spot and we knew that no one would bother us there. Rain came in the night and when we woke the following morning the stream was a little higher than it had been the previous evening, but it still wasn’t a problem for the truck. Subsequently Saturday 23rd August was our first cloudy day in Siberia and there was definitely more of a nip in the air, but it still wasn’t epically cold by any stretch of the imagination. Sadly however, for the most part of the day, the scenery matched the weather as we continued through mile after mile of gravel stockpiles. Occasionally we would pass through a town or small village that appeared abandoned and apocalyptic with decaying buildings and rusting machinery. They were eerie, but Ed found their dereliction fascinating. We pondered whether the towns existed only while the river gravels alongside them were being panned for gold…. Who knew. After driving about 200km we kept our eyes peeled for a turn off leading to a Gulag (Dneprovskii) for which we had a GPS position from Jeroen. The maps indicated an off road track measuring 18km and we decided to go for it, as so far we had stuck only to the major routes since entering Siberia. We weren’t disappointed either as the track was utterly beautiful and within a few kilometres we were in the most picturesque valley imaginable. To call it an Autumn Wonderland is no exaggeration. Trees lined the track and the sun (which had finally made an appearance) glinted through the forest floor to reveal pale green lichens and mushrooms protruding everywhere. Occasionally the track would open out to reveal a largely treeless landscape filled with blazing red and pink shrubs, fluffy wild cotton lining the road and every shade of green in the mountains rising up from the valley floor. Mushrooms occasionally poked curiously up through the centre of the track and some of them were huge, and crystal clear streams occasionally tinkled over the road. The overall effect was utterly enchanting and one of mystery and beauty combined. The track itself was an off road dream for Ed. The road was so old and worn that the wooden timber (on which the road would have been originally built) occasionally poked out through the gravel surface and large hollows appeared where the road had been largely washed away. We had been lucky with the weather of late, but here on the track the hollows were filled with mud and water. Subsequently Ed bravely smashed the truck through giant puddle after giant puddle and thankfully the majority of them had firm gravel or wood at the base. The frightening ones however, were the ones where even the original timbers had rotted away meaning all that was left was boggy swamp from the partially melted permafrost. One puddle caught us out and we smashed into a deep hole where the front of the truck dropped over a metre deep into the water. Ed got out to check for any damage; there was none, so we continued on as best we could to the Gulag. After several river crossings and more beautiful vistas we finally arrived at the Gulag and I have to say I was a bit apprehensive about what we would see. We cleared a bend and then a giant dilapidated dark wooden structure loomed before us. On the hill behind it stood a derelict hut. Ed parked the truck and we got out to explore. Inside the hut we were surprised to see a rickety old table and bits of broken furniture and in the centre of the room was positioned a metal wood burner connected to a pipe / chimney which still poked through the roof. Rolled pieces of hessian hung over the door frame (an old draft excluder perhaps) and the walls were constructed out of thin strips of wood (wattle and dawb) which Ed said would have originally been covered in mud. The whole building leaned and creaked in the wind. It was so atmospheric, so bleak. With hushed voices we exited the hut and climbed up to the larger wooden structure. Ed wandered off and called to me to come and see. I rushed to catch up with him to find he was poking his head through a dark hole, and to get there he had climbed through 15m of derelict collapsed wood which looked to have originally comprised a tunnel. He was staring into a mine. I came to join him and took his place staring into the dark hole, bowing my head in the low entrance. I couldn’t see very much except for a wall of ice some 20m at the rear of the hole (which Ed had discovered when using the flash on the camera). The position of the Gulag so far from the road suddenly made sense. Now that our eyes knew what we were seeing, we spotted old wooden railway tracks exiting the mine and focused our eyes on large stockpiles of rock that we had seen whilst entering the Gulag. With a wall of ice in the door of the mine during late summer, it was difficult to imagine conditions in the Gulag during the Siberian winter. With more exploration we located the perimeter fence (where barbed wire remained) and scattered all over the floor were rusted tin cans and nails from the old railway. We climbed to one of the rock stockpiles and surveyed the view down the valley in the late afternoon sunshine. It was so beautiful in its haze of green forest and autumnal bloom. All of it was spoiled thinking about the people who had to endure here. They likely never saw any beauty in it at all. It was very sad. We took another track (in the truck) which led passed a wooden lookout out tower and numerous larger wooden buildings that had partially collapsed. We assumed they were the accommodation of the Gulag prisoners and in their derelict state they looked dark and creepy. I didn’t want to look inside them. On the opposite side of the valley however, we spotted more mine shafts with shattered wooden tunnels linking the entrances to the valley floor. We assumed they were some kind of shoots allowing the mined material to be transported down easily. The size of them were something else. It was such a fascinating place. As we turned to exit the Gulag a large vehicle appeared in front of us, but kindly pulled over for us to pass by. As we passed them we could see two men inside the vehicle and the back of it was filled with all sorts of equipment. One of the men jumped out to talk to Ed. We could see that he was very interested to see who we were (and probably what we were doing here) and kept saying ‘dree machina?’ meaning three vehicles? He was obviously keeping a close eye on people coming in and out of the Gulag. Ed told him we were only one vehicle and that we were tourists. The man nodded and got back in his vehicle and we drove off sharpish. We managed to google the Gulag and learned that it had been a tin mine (and not gold, as we had initially assumed). Tired, we found a very nice camp spot on a gravel spit along the river and Ed had to drive through the river for us to get there ensuring no one would be able to bother us. On Sunday 24th August, we continued to drive the final 260km (south) to Magadan, our journey’s end. The scenery improved somewhat along the route as the gravel stockpiles diminished, but the road however, got progressively worse towards the town! And finally at 5.30pm (+9hrs GMT, although in Magadan we were +12hrs GMT) we arrived in Magadan in the warm Siberian sunshine. It was unbelievable. We had made it!!!!! Elated we hopped out at the giant blue ‘Magadan Sign’ on the edge of town and took some photos. The Dutch had made it there before us and given their GPS position which was opposite the ‘Mask of Sorrow’ a wonderful memorial sculpture built in memory of the hundreds and thousands of people that perished in the Gulags. It is a giant face of stone with a huge tear, and within the tears are more faces crying more tears. It’s a very sad and beautiful sculpture. Once we arrived, the Dutch kindly cracked out the Champagne and we all toasted our arrival in Magadan (I keep saying ‘the Dutch’ sorry – Virginia is Moldovian btw). After the bubbly, Ed and I walked up to the memorial and took a little time to absorb our location. It was a lovely view alongside the memorial, which looked down onto Magadan and the sea. It was overwhelming to get to Magadan and I can’t speak for Ed right now, but I am sure he feels the same way, and mostly proud of his achievement. We really have driven to the ends of the earth crossing over twelve time zones and we have visited some truly remarkable and beautiful countries over the past few months, With my own eyes I have witnessed more beauty and wonder than I could ever have imagined I would ever see in my own lifetime. All I have to say is thank you Ed for bringing me here, and sharing this with me…. I have never been so happy. I am so proud of Ed and I hope that all of you lot (friends and family) are too, and that you are all doing a WHOOP WHOOP now for us in Magadan!!!!! And now…. Only 12,000 odd miles to Blighty…. (via the beach mind you). Miss you all. We’re coming home now. Only about 12,000 odd miles to go….. Lots of Love. Ros and Ed xxxxxxxx Hello. Have finally got round to finishing the blog. The last three weeks in Mongolia were amazing and some of the most exciting and memorable of the trip. After leaving Ulaanbataar on the 17th July we were really excited to be back in the truck and back on the road. After some deliberation and discussion with Nara (our Mongolian translator on the south Gobi trip) we decided to spend the rest of our time in Mongolia exploring the diverse Aimag of Bayanhongor. It meant travelling south-west from the capital (and in the wrong direction to the border we would take with Siberia), but the promise of crystal caves, ancient valleys of petroglyphs and the challenge of overlanding in the Gobi (Bayanhongor is part of the ‘middle Gobi), was too exciting to miss. On the evening of 17th July we camped in the hills above the Millennium Road (a tarmac road which would take us over 600km to the town of Bayanhongor, the Aimag’s capital). On the morning of the 18th we were ridiculously lazy. The South Gobi trip had tired us out, so we spent most of the day in the truck, snoozing and watching DVD’s. When we finally surfaced and drove back down to the road, who was coming towards us; only Dagma and Klaus in their silver Land Rover – the German couple who had shared two road blockades with us in Tajikistan (Khorog) and Kyrgyzstan (Sopu Korgan). It was fantastic to see them! We caught up on their adventures in Mongolia and we marvelled that we had bumped into them in such a massive country as this! Only a few days before we had been there, Dagma and Klaus had even stayed in the same Ger camp as us in the South Gobi (Erdenet) except they had driven there themselves! After a little while chatting, we were suddenly disturbed by the approach of a large white car. A man hopped out and pointed at the Land Rover and the Truck and said ‘How much? Can I buy one of these vehicles?’. It was hilarious! We all laughed and shook our heads and said ‘No’. None of us would be able to get home without the vehicles and our documents didn’t allow us to sell up. After more chatting, the weather turned windy and cold, so we bade farewell to Dagma and Klaus who had also extended their visas and were heading to Kharahorum (the same as us) before heading north to Khovsgol and then to Baikal. We all joked hoping to meet at the border at the same time, or later in Germany (with the promise of Schwartzwolderkirchetorte renewed!). The day almost over, we drove about 50km before heading to the hills once more. Rain and strong winds had set in, and we were still really tired. That night (in the pouring rain) we heard the purr of a motorbike and two nomads appeared outside and knocked on the door of the truck. Ed had the steps down and so invited them in. They were dripping wet but very friendly and as usual, very curious about us and the truck. Soon they were inviting us back to their Ger for the night. They didn’t seem to understand why we wanted to sleep on the side of a mountain in a ferocious gale and torrential rain. Ed managed to deter them and soon they were on their way, only to return 30 minutes later with gifts of aireg and pancakes. It was still pouring outside and pitch black. Ed hopped out to accept the gifts (the ladder now stowed away) and because they were so sweet bringing us presents, I opened the bottle of Chinese Plum wine I had picked up in Russia and poured out some glasses. Soon Ed was throwing a glass to the earth and air (the first drops of alcohol go to nature in Mongolia, as is custom), followed by us toasting each other. They seemed impressed when I shouted ‘Toldor!’ the Mongolian for ‘Cheers’ which we had learned successfully on the South Gobi trip whilst sharing vodka with our group. After a few minutes more chatting, the two men went on their way and we felt happy and accepted to be parked near their Ger’s just down the hill. On the morning of the 19th July we made our way west to the ancient city of Kharahorum, the former capital of Mongolia (before it was moved to Beijing). It was another day of mud and carnage as it rained all day. One section of the Millennium road turned to dirt track and inevitably people started to get stuck in the wet mud! Luckily not us! Very soon we were rescuing a Mongolian Delica full of people. They waved us over and Ed got out and started unwinding the winch. The senior of the family came to greet Ed and help pull out the winch, but it was so muddy and slippey however, I watched aghast as the old man fell into the mud. Ed helped him up and about 5 minutes later we had freed the vehicle from the soft ground. The family were so pleased, they whipped out a tub of clotted cream and donuts and invited us to eat some. The clotted cream was immense (it makes me giggle as Ed does all the rescuing and I still get given free food! Lol). We continued to Kharahorum without spotting anyone else requiring a winch and before entering the town, we decided to ascend the hill above it for the remainder of the day. The driving had been hard going for Ed and we were still tired. It was a bit ropey getting to the top of the hill (and out of sight). We were suddenly in a position where 10 tonnes of truck were sliding down the mountain, Ed couldn’t get any grip on the wet slick soil. Eventually we found some solid ground and stopped in a hollow in the hills. A thick fog descended and all views of Kharahorum disappeared. We were too tired to care however, and settled down for the night. On Sunday 20th July we were greeted by a young lad (around 12 years old) looking smart in a sky blue robe, sat on a large brown horse. Ed jumped out of the truck to greet him and took a photo of him with the Polaroid camera. He seemed a bit spooked by us at first (again I blame the beard) but was happy when Ed handed him the photo. Soon after he disappeared down the mountain. The fog had cleared but it was still a cloudy cool day. Perfect really for exploring Kharahorum. We hoped to visit the old Buddhist Monastery and go in search of food and a possible market. Kharahorum however, turned out to be very small and sleepy. We very easily found the Buddhist Monastery pulling up outside the wall lined with a multitude of Stupas (a white turret in-which statues of Buddha’s and other relics are housed). Opposite the wall was a friendly looking market with stalls and restaurants. As we were parking we spotted Dagma and Klaus’ Land Rover. Obviously they had made it to Kharahorum as well! And there they were, as we walked to the Monastery entrance, they appeared exiting it. We spent a few minutes chatting again, before waving goodbye and entering the Monastery. Inside were several temples (converted to museums housing relics, tapestries and statues). The temples had pretty dark green ceramic tiles and slanted roofs that flick out at the edges (Tibetan-Chinese style). Many of the tapestries depicted strange looking demons and one of the rooms house three giant golden Buddha’s about 10ft tall. We also popped our heads into the ‘active’ part of the Monastery where young Lama’s (monks) were studying before heading back out to the market stalls. We were quite hungry so we decided to frequent one of the small cafes. There was an old lady outside trying to attract business into hers. She had a nice smile and a kindly face, so we opted for her café. Inside it was very small and basic but a lovely family affair. The menu was obviously in Mongolian ‘only’, but luckily for us the young daughter who served us spoke a bit of English. Soon we were tucking in to dumplings and fried pancakes with meat and onion inside accompanied by warm milk tea (the hot beverage of Mongolia). The young daughter practised her English on us while her father sat next to Ed bemused to see foreigners. He mostly beamed and chuckled at us while we ate. It was quite funny. The young daughter explained that she was studying in college but that her sister would very soon be going to a University in Ulaanbataar. It was lovely chatting with her. We tried to explain that we had driven from the UK and we pointed at the truck outside. When we were done, we paid £1.50 each for our lunch before heading back to the truck and into town in search of a supermarket and an ATM. We found one shop selling groceries (but no fresh veg, fruit or produce and managed to pick up bread, pasta, tinned tuna, eggs and dried fruit etc. before heading back out of town and then south towards Bayanhongor. It was a lovely warm sunny afternoon and we had only driven an hour or so out of Kharahorum (still on tarmac roads) when we saw a large lorry (articulated) stuck in the mud some distance from the road. There was a lady standing alongside it urgently waving her arms at us. They obviously needed help. Ed pulled off the road and we headed towards them. The lorry must have been 20T and as we approached we could see that they had dug the wheels out. Metal chains, tyres and bits of wood were strewn everywhere where they had tried to get some grip under the wheels, but they were sunk in too deep. We both hopped out to greet them and I got the video camera out as Ed prepared the winch. Within 5 minutes we had tugged them out and then Ed towed them to firm ground. The wife was so pleased. Soon she had laid her jacket down in the dried mud and insisted I sit on it while she boiled some tea. By the time Ed came over she had whipped out some doughnut cakes and clotted cream indicating for us to eat. She communicated to us that they had been stuck more than 24hrs and had spent the night there and if we hadn’t arrived they were preparing to spend a second night there. Luckily there were some Ger’s nearby that had brought some food over to them. Mongolians definitely look out for each other. The conversation made us acutely aware that if we got stuck in the mud there wouldn’t be anyone to rescue us either. The chances of another 10T truck coming along with a winch was pretty slim. It made it all the more special for us (especially Ed) that we had been around to rescue them. We thanked the lady for the tea and offered to help her and her husband load everything back onto the truck (all the chains, tyres etc. strewn everywhere). Neither of them would let us however, so as we bade them farewell suddenly the lovely wife grabbed pasta, meat, dried fish and curd from their cab and insisted generously that we take them. It was very sweet of her and we accepted, waving goodbye as we re-joined the tarmac road, as usual warmed by our encounter, Ed glowing from his good deed. Faith in humanity is restored every day in Mongolia. The people are so wonderful. By early evening we had diverted off the tarmac road into the grassy steppe hills heading south to a town called Arvayheer. It was wonderful to be on dirt tracks again soaking up the stunning scenery. The sun shone a golden yellow and we kept our eyes peeled for a spot for the night. Soon we were ascending a grassy hill topped with more craggy red rocks. Unlike all the previous grassy steppe we had seen, the grass here was much longer (higher than my knees) and absolutely crammed with wild flowers, this time, very tall flowers popping their heads above the grasses. It was a stunningly beautiful meadow eclipsing anything we had previously seen, alive with crickets and butterflies. We spotted more asters, wild blue delphiniums, dark pink dianthus, red sedums and ox-eye daisies (and they are just the ones I knew the names of). The following morning (Monday 21st July) we explored the top of the crag and took photos of all the wild flowers. It was lovely and we were greeted by more beautiful sunshine and blue sky. After an hour driving down the track however, disaster….. What we feared most. We got stuck in the mud…. We had arrived at a muddy hollow and spotted a spring running down the hill and over the grass. Following the other tyre tracks (through the mud) however, was our undoing. The mud was wet and slick, and we were on a slight uphill gradient. Before the wheels dug us in too deeply Ed stopped the truck. Ed wasn’t too worried, but my brain started to roll over our options if we couldn’t get out of the mud…. We were about 50+km from the last small village we had driven through and probably a similar distance to the main road north of Arvayheer. Worst case scenario we would spend the night in the mud and talk over our options….. Luckily however, Ed had one more card to play, even though there was nothing in sight for us to winch off. Firstly Ed dug out the wheels and tried to get some forward momentum with the grip of the freshly dug ground... It was too slimy and wet. We had to go to Plan B Ed had purchased a ground anchor on ebay (collected from Preston, Lancashire) for less than £20 before we had left the UK. He felt that the price was such a bargain, he threw in a large bottle of Jack Daniels to the seller (Thanks Rick)! There was hope of escape from the mud if we could position the anchor firmly in the ground and winch off it. Soon Ed had dug a hole and he placed the anchor inside. The anchor looks like a bent piece of metal with a shovel shaped head at one end (see pictures). After a few failed attempts Ed realised that I would have to operate the winch (yes I operated the winch!) whilst Ed put all his weight on the anchor to make it dig firmly into the ground. Next, Ed hopped in the cab and I got the film camera out while Ed operated the winch whilst steering the truck. Our team work paid off and very slowly we inched our way forward out of the mud. Amusingly, while we were attempting to rescue ourselves, a Toyota Land Cruiser bearing two locals attempted to drive past us (also through the mud). Within seconds they had also ground to a halt. The silly buggers had got stuck in the mud as well! We thought they were a bit twp (welsh for silly) to have driven alongside us. They must have seen that we were stuck and subsequently the route we had taken was not good! Even more hilariously, they watch us bemused while we gradually made our escape. They must have thought we weren’t getting out as they disappeared into the grassy steppe returning a little while later with arms laden with rocks to place under their wheels for grip. By then we had moved the anchor twice and winched our way some 40m up the muddy slope to freedom, Ed getting out to reposition the anchor with a new hole so we could clear the mud completely. The Toyota Land Cruiser’s further attempts to escape the mud failed however, and by our final winch they were watching us in anticipation as they knew we could pull them out once we made it to firm ground. Just watching the anchor ‘work’ was pure paradise for me, and especially for Ed. He had never used it before and although progress was slow, we eventually escaped the mud! We were left with immense feelings of relief and satisfaction. Similarly our confidence had been boosted a hundred fold as we now had an effective means of escape without having to rely on the slim chance of a +10T truck appearing out of the blue if we got stuck again. Soon we had also tugged out the Toyota Land Cruiser and the two young lads were over the moon. They were initially a bit wary of Ed (the beard is quite frightening to Mongolians….), and we didn’t realise how young they were. Once they were also on firm ground, the young driver whipped out a bottle of Chinggis Khan Vodka (‘Gold’ I might add, not the cheap stuff) and a massive bag of sweets and insisted Ed accept them. It was very sweet and we waved them goodbye as they sped away from the mud. We stared a little while at the distance we had winched ourselves over to freedom. It was an impressive feat and a memory I know Ed will cherish forever as he thrives on such challenges. I could also take some small credit for our escape as this time I also had black muddy feet and legs (I was wearing flip flops), although admittedly Ed did dig ALL of the holes and did about 99% of the work (hehe). I got it all on film though ;p When we finally settled down, now even more grateful to be in Mongolia and continue our adventure, we hopped back in the cab and continued south finally meeting once more with the tarmac Millennium Road that would take us all the way to the town (and Aimag) of Bayanhongor. That night we found a camp spot south of the town of Arvayheer, pulling off the tarmac road towards a disused Corrale. We hid behind a grassy hillock with a wonderfully strong smell of juniper and wormwood in the air as we hopped out of the truck. Ed celebrated with a small glass of the Chinggis Khan Vodka (Gold) to enhance his memory of the events of the day. On Tuesday 22nd July we finally made it to the town of Bayanhongor which was a reasonable size and more bustling and modern than most of the other towns we had seen. They had a very good supermarket stocked with fresh fruit and veg, meat and everything we needed. Subsequently we stocked the truck with supplies ready for our trip to the remote middle Gobi. On entering the town we had spotted a pretty tree lined river, so we made a beeline back to it to camp for the night. As we arrived several locals were washing their cars in the river or simply enjoying the warm evening sunshine. So we could find a nice quiet spot, Ed decided to drive through the river which was split in two by a gravel island dotted with trees. It was perfect. And so with the tinkling of a cool stream out of the truck window we settled down for the night. Sadly however, it was Nadaam in Bayanhongor and from 8pm until the early hours loud music attacked our ears…. We were so used to utter silence at night… We hardly slept….. The following day (Wednesday 23rd July) we decided to take advantage of the lovely stream and do some clothes washing. It was a beautiful sunny day and it also meant we could fill the water tank before heading south to the middle Gobi. By early evening we had dried most of our clothes and so decided to get a few miles in. Heading south of Bayanhongor town, the Millennium Road disappeared into dirt tracks once more. Dark storm clouds rolled in from the north-east and as we ascended the mountain leaving the town far behind us and we were treated to another wonderful rainbow. Our second in Mongolia. The views broadened as we began driving over an undulating plain of short grassy steppe with the occasional weathered remnants of bare rock poking through. We passed several Ger’s and suddenly a gigantic mountain range rose before us on the distant horizon; The Ikh Bogd Range towards which we were headed. The mountains were illuminated by the evening sunlight and glowed a dark red hue ribboned with white streaks. Volcanic in origin, they looked foreboding and epic. We couldn’t wait to get to them. I am not sure if I mentioned this in the last blog but the geological history of Mongolia goes back some 120 million years (I have been doing a little bit of reading). Before Mongolia came into being, various pieces of the earth’s crust (oceanic as well as continental) had to come together to form the country we see today (ref. Mongolian Companion Guide, Odyssey Books). Between Siberia and the (now) northern areas of Mongolia there existed a great sea, which eventually shrunk as the Mongolian continental crust collided with the Siberian Craton. The Siberian Craton (in part) is an ancient continent with rocks dating well into the Pre-Cambrian. Subsequently rocks in northern Mongolia (and southern Siberia) which were thrown up during the Orogenic collision are around 1500 million years old. The southern and western areas of Mongolia are also exciting as some of the oceanic crust was pushed up onto the continental forming an Ophiolite. Subsequently, when the dinosaurs were roaming the land some 120 to 80 million years ago, they lived in a tectonically active land of andesitc lava spitting volcanoes and earthquakes as part of an island arc system. Within the back-arcs and fore-arcs, small seas were created forming sedimentary basins. Subsequently numerous turbiditic deposits are also found in southern Mongolia from undersea landsides and even limestone formed in the warm shallow seas. As the Himalaya were being formed to the south-west and the sea shrunk between northern Mongolia and the Siberian Craton, the pieces of crust that eventually coalesced to form Mongolia were raised leaving the majority of the country 1500m to 2000m above sea level. The Ikh Bogd Mountain Range (to which we were headed) is part of the remnant island arc system which stretches all the way to the Altai Mountains in the west. That evening we finally arrived onto a wide open short grassy plain with scattered hillocks of weathered green rock (possibly schist) with the occasional prominent veins of shiny white opaque quartz running through the landscape. The veins of quartz were several metres thick in places and the overall affect was bizarre. I loved it. Subsequently we pulled off our track and parked the truck behind a large hillock of weathered quartz. It was pure white and glistening in the evening sunshine. Mongolia is full of surprises. On Thursday 24th July we continued south towards the mountains in the direction of a salty lake (Orog Nur) that we knew lay at the foot of the hills. The flat raised plain where we had spent the night eventually descended down into a large flat valley of desert steppe. A pretty (but very slim) river meandered through the centre of it all, the banks of which were dotted with Gers and herds of the five snouts (mostly goats and sheep). We continued on a sandy ridge overlooking the valley and knew that we were entering the realm of the Gobi when we spotted a herd of camels enjoying the warm sunshine. After passing through two small towns (Jinst and Bogd) we eventually followed a track south-west towards the northern shore of Oreg Nur; the salty lake. It was an attractive milky green colour and we stopped for lunch to admire it, before traversing the track along the lakes edge to the southern shore. The track varied from firm dry sand to softer loose material and some areas comprised small dunes covered in long grassy hillocks. All the while, the Ikh Bogd mountain range loomed above us. We could see the rocks almost up close now and they were a wonderful mixture of dark reds, greens and menacing purple black hues. With no dramas we reached the southern shore of the lake and decided to take a track up to the foothills of the mountains to get a closer look, and some 5km later we arrived at the base of the hills. We parked not too far from a stunning stripy feature (which I initially thought was sandstone) with alternating layers of grey, black, red and white. Behind us were sweeping and utterly majestic views of the valley from whence we came with the glinting waters of milky green Oreg Nur below. In the distance we could see large golden sand dunes on the northern eastern shore. The epic scale of the view was something we had become accustomed to in Mongolia, but it never failed to delight the eyes. After a little rest we decided to explore a bit making a beeline for the dark rocks. The truck was parked in a little hollow above a track leading into the mountains behind which yawning black-green and red cliffs opened to reveal a dark atmospheric gorge overhanging the track and I really wanted to walk up it. Unfortunately there was a large official looking yellow sign alongside the track written in Mongolian script and I thought perhaps it translated to ‘Private, No-entry’. Ed thought I was being silly, but I was a bit paranoid that there might be a gold mine up there as it had already been explained to us that a similar mountain range (in the South Gobi) was full of gold. We had been told of stories of shootings (the official mining companies opening fire on the locals trying to thieve the shiny stuff for themselves). Needless to say, I had a feeling of foreboding (perhaps because the path looked like it led to the very gates of Mordor), and so we decided to try and avoid any guerrilla gold thieves and go and explore the stripy rock feature instead. We followed an undulating animal track a little way from the truck and as we were climbing up towards the stripy rock feature Ed waved me over urgently. He had spotted a large wild horned sheep (or possibly it was an ibex) and disappointedly I arrived alongside Ed just in time to see its white and grey bottom bouncing away! Good spot Ed! The stripy feature looked even odder close up and turned out to be various layers of alternating coloured clay, smearing into one another as the material weathered down the face of the cliff. After taking a few photos we turned around to enjoy the view of the lake. All around us were weathered rounded nobbles of sandy brown rock which provided a natural frame for the epic scenery below. A little distance away we could see the truck poking out from its hollow hiding place. It still pleased Ed how much the colour of the truck blended into virtually any landscape and after taking a few more photos we returned to it to settle down for the night. And it was a horrible night….. Not long after we had fallen asleep an almighty wind blew down the foreboding black gorge behind us. The sound was terrifyingly loud and the force of the wind was colossal! It came from nowhere as the previous evening had been sunny and calm and it was soooo loud! The truck was buffeted for hours and occasionally wobbled precariously from side to side and I thought we were going to get blown over! Ed however, was confident that the truck would stay on its four wheels and subsequently he managed to get more sleep than I did…. Finally in the early hours the wind died down and I managed to get some sleep. When we finally got out of bed the following morning I was expecting to see an apocalyptic scene…. But (of course) there weren’t any buildings or trees…. So maybe a few rocks had been blown around (unbeknown to us in the storm… hehe). Subsequently there was no evidence of the night of terror apart from my blurry red eyes and Ed laughing at me for being so scared….. On Friday 25th July we continued to follow the track (bearing east) along the southern shore of Oreg Nur. The track comprised cracked baked silty sand that was all cracked and desiccated in the warm sunshine and occasionally spattered with deep footprints of the five snouts. We were acutely aware that if it rained, the track would disintegrate into a quicksand mud pit that would likely end our trip. Luckily the sun continued to shine and after an hour or so we were passing through an area of proto sand dunes alive with Saxual trees, one of the only species of tree to survive in the Gobi. They are beautiful things, all twisted with age, but not very tall. Because the growing season in Mongolia is so short (June to August) they grow very little each year. Subsequently even the ones we were seeing (around 1.5m to 2m high) were likely to be really old. Apparently they go off like jet fuel when you burn them. The track became more and more sandy and ahead of us it became evident that it had been swallowed up by a glorious five metre high golden sand dune. We came to a halt and Ed got out to look to check the firmness of the ground underfoot. Sand was the enemy because the truck has slim wheels for its weight and we could very easily dig ourselves deeply into the loose material if we happened to drive over a soft area. We made the decision to continue, but if there was ever a moment where the ground looked too risky, we agreed that we would have to turn around (give up on the Gobi) and say that ‘we tried’. We had to be really cautious and create our own new track among the soft proto dunes. Ed regularly got out to check the ground and using our GPS software we (no longer following a mapped track) kept bearing in the correct direction to pick up our original route. I was gritting my teeth throughout all of it and after an hour of eternity the sand disappeared and we found the track we needed to continue south. The mountains of the Ikh Bogd Range lay ahead and we could see a gap within them. It was our intention to pass through the mountains in search of Tsagaan Aguy (The White Cave; because it was made of white marble) for which we had a GPS coordinate (from the Lonely Planet) but unfortunately no mapped track to show us how to get there. A treasure hunt awaited us. We had read that the White Cave was encrusted with crystals and inside, artefacts dating 750,000 years had been discovered. It could not be missed! As we approached the mountains another menacing dark valley gorge appeared ahead of us. The rocks near the entrance were wonderful sandstone hues of dark reds and pink and behind these lay dark volcanic rocks, jagged and epic. It appeared that our track swung to the right but there was another track leading down a narrower gorge of dark rocks along a soft gravel riverbed. We decided to stop at the cross-roads (as it were) and have lunch before exploring the narrow track along the riverbed on foot. We had only been relaxing in the truck for 10 minutes when the wind started to pick up again and looking down the opening of the valley (from where we had driven) the view was now eerily obscured. A sandstorm had appeared from nowhere in the flat plain below where not two hours earlier we had been navigating the proto dunes, and it was whipping towards us with great speed. Ed started filming its approach while I closed all the windows and covered the air vents. Minutes later we watched as a cloud of sand funnelled down the valley towards us and the gust of wind it had brought with it finally forced the truck door closed and Ed had to continue filming through the truck window. It was quite scary and exhilarating at the same time. The wind whistled and howled, and the overall effect (for me) was a strong sense of isolation. The way we had come was now shut. There was no going back (at least for the moment). As we came to realise with the Gobi, the weather changes very quickly and within one hour the sun had returned and any evidence of a sandstorm had disappeared. Subsequently we took the opportunity to do a bit of walking and explore the track leading through the narrow gorge along the riverbed. We had been watching the track and so far had seen two vehicles (a Toyota Land Cruiser and a motorbike) opt for the riverbed route. It made us wonder whether the other track had been washed out. Walking up the track we soon realised it was very soft gravelly sand and along the right side of the riverbed was a spring (or remnants of the stream). After a couple of miles walking the track didn’t improve and subsequently, Ed made the decision that this particular track was too risky for us. We were likely to get stuck. A bit down hearted, we returned to the truck and spent the remainder of the evening worrying about the other track. We would have to give it a go and hope for the best. The following morning we took the ‘other’ track which also turned out to be a riverbed, but thankfully it appeared to be much more worn in and for the most part the ground was firm under (truck) foot. We passed through the dark green grey volcanic rocks of the mountain range and it wasn’t long before we were keeping our eyes peeled for a track heading east. Our current track was on our GPS map but the route to the crystal cave was unknown and a full 24km from the nearest point of our current track (as the crow flies). We spotted a potential track and made the decision to go for it and follow our noses. Luckily the landscape was soft undulating hills (with the occasional dried up riverbed to cross), so with plenty of positive thinking we continued to follow tracks bearing east, sometimes just driving off piste to stay on the correct bearing. After more than an hour the little arrow that represented our position got closer and closer to the GPS position and suddenly an arm of pale white rock appeared in the distance. I was convinced it was marble! We had to be heading in the correct direction. After what felt like an eternity the white rocks loomed ever nearer and we knew we had made it. Ed pulled over about 2km from the GPS position and we decided to stop for a rest and a bit of lunch before exploring the cave. Also we had to wait for the heat of the day to pass. We were in the Gobi after all and the sun was potent. I was so excited however, I could hardly eat! Eventually we set off and approached the entrance to a small gorge at the far southern end of the white marble arm of rock. We were very amused to see a little picnic bench and even a bright blue ‘P’ sign alongside it all the while thinking that we were in the middle of nowhere and there was no other human being in sight. We entered the gorge of gnarled weathered marble. Up close the pale marble rocks were tinged pink and grey and the walls rose up about 15m either side. The path was wide enough for just two people to walk side by side and it meandered around giant boulders that had collapsed from up high in a wonderful hobbity fashion. After only a few minutes an opening of a cave appeared on the right and sure enough someone had placed marble steps leading to the entrance. Of course… Indianna-Ed went first. From the brightness of the gorge it took our eyes a few seconds to adjust and as we climbed the steps we realised there were two figures inside the chamber. It made me jump but it turned out to be two bronze statues depicting the Palaeolithic (Stone Age) people who used the cave 750,000 years ago. We entered the chamber and it wasn’t very big and I couldn’t spot any crystals. Ed thought we had come to the wrong cave and as he was turning to leave I switched on my head torch and scanned the back of the chamber to reveal a dark passage at the rear of the cave! I called Ed back and with our torches (Indianna-Ed went first again ;p) we squeezed through the small passage and with heads bowed arrived in a second chamber. It was totally epic. Shining our torches at the walls, we realised we had entered the crystal cave. I was so excited! White and salmon pink jagged square shaped crystals were illuminated in the torchlight encrusting every inch of the walls and ceiling. On closer inspection I realised it was calcite and so wonderfully translucent that it glowed and sparkled in the torchlight. We kept shining our torches and discovered a smaller antechamber at the rear of the cave and also a large chamber above us accessed through a higher passage. The ceiling of the higher chamber was covered in long eared bats (we wondered what the strange squeaking noise was), all huddled together in large groups. They were cute little things (although I would likely have panicked a bit if they started to fly around!). Looking up at the highest part of the chamber our efforts were rewarded as Ed spotted much larger calcite crystals. In the dim light we could just make them out and they were huge (about 30cm long). It didn’t take too long to realise however, that the majority of giant crystals (excluding those on the high ceiling) had been bashed away leaving large opaque square shaped chunks of calcite. It made us quite sad trying to imagine how ridiculously beautiful and spectacular this cave would have been 750,000 years ago (or even 100 years ago) when all the crystals were still in-situ….. It would have been unbelievable. After about an hour (I didn’t want to leave) we finally excited the cave and explored the small marble gorge. Ed was drawn to an outcrop of much darker rocks, which from a distance reflected the sunlight. In his usual billy goat (Indianna-Ed) style he scrambled up the wall of the gorge and I (in my Crocker style) struggled to catch up. It transpired that the dark rocks were heavily weathered marble which had turned dark brown over the eons. The outcrop looked like ancient fragments of dark wood, all cracked and brittle and I picked up a fragment of it and, admiring the underside which glimmered in the sun with evaporated calcite. From the top of the gorge we enjoyed the view and followed another miniature gorge (dried up gully) back to the truck. The location was so dramatic, remote and so beautiful. We were struck again by how lucky we were to be here, experiencing it all to ourselves. That evening we sat outside the truck drinking tea and watching the sun go down. Stars appeared above us and a mild breeze broke the silence. The mountains in the distance grew darker and darker, and eventually (before any wolves appeared) we decided to climb back into the truck and settle down for the night. The next morning (Sunday 27th July) we retraced our truck tracks back to the main track of the previous morning and continued to head south further into the middle Gobi. Soon the southern flanks of the Ikh Bogd Mountain Range loomed to the right of the truck and the view was even more spectacular than the northern slopes. They were flecked with dark reds, whites, green and black rocks and looked so interesting that we couldn’t just drive passed them without taking a closer look. We picked our way over several small sandy riverbeds and undulating long grassy hillocks finally arriving at green rolling hills topped with weathered black crags of rock. We hopped out of the truck and immediately my eyes were drawn to pale peach coloured rounded pebbles dotted all over the ground. They were translucent and pitted and I wondered if they were agate (which Mongolians refer to as water crystal). After more investigation I realised the ground was absolutely littered with minerals. Within minutes I had picked up fragments of pale blue agate geodes and pieces of quartz clusters that looked like something you would pay for in a mineral shop! It was too exciting to contemplate. Subsequently we chucked on our walking boots and headed for the hills. It wasn’t long before we arrived at a rock face of weathered grey-red lava pitted with holes of which fifty percent were filled with the pale peach agate glowing prettily in the sunlight. The wall of lava formed a partially eroded gully and soon we were scrambling up it. In the rock face Ed immediately found a heavily weathered quartz geode the size of his head! And with more searching we found several slabs of blue stripy agate and wonderful quartz clusters. It was totally amazing. Finally we arrived at the top of the rock formation and Ed pointed to the ground where a giant elongate quartz geode was exploding out of the mountainside. It was over one metre long and the majority of it was still intact with stunning clear crystals each about 1cm in length sparkling in the evening sunlight. It was so unbelievable, and I never expected us to see anything like this. I was utterly overwhelmed. I had always loved minerals and crystals and my sister and I had collected them since we were little. It was one of the reasons I studied Geology at University, and here I was standing alongside a giant geode that would probably cost hundreds of pounds in a mineral shop. Of course there were tears. The entire trip so far had been a dream come true and for me, and this was the icing on the cake. Naughtily, I managed to shake a slab of the quartz geode free (to keep as a memento), placing it carefully in Ed’s rucksack (it was heavy!). I also picked up several small clusters (that looked like beautiful crystal flowers) from the debris of the geode, and was satisfied that there was still plenty left for other people to enjoy if they ‘just’ so happened to pass by this remote area of Mongolia. Tearing myself away from the geode, we continued walking towards the mountains but soon realised that only the hills in the foreground were full of minerals, so we sat to enjoy the view in the evening sunlight and absorb our surroundings and location fully. The evening sunlight was beautiful and we surveyed the valleys below us of ancient rock and rolling desert-steppe. Finally it was time to head back to the truck, both of us with fists full of agate geodes and quartz clusters. Sadly however, we both dropped all our findings in haste as a red motorcycle approached us bearing a local. We had spotted several Gers at the top of the mineral filled hills and wondered when we would be spotted. I think we both threw the rocks to the ground because oddly it felt like stealing. I know it sounds strange, but these people had lived here for generations and although no one owned the land in Mongolia, it still felt like they were the custodians of it. The nomad had a dark tan face and a nice smile and he was very soon picking up the minerals from the ground to show us anyway and (although not a word of English escaped his lips) we knew he was explaining how he understood they came to be here and he even started pointed to the hills indicating where the best ones were to be found! With enthusiastic gestures (as usual) we tried to explain that we had driven from the UK and that we adored Mongolia, and this particular place was very special indeed. We hope he understood our genuine affection for the country and didn’t think we were just here to pilfer the treasures of the mountain (which we had stumbled on unexpectedly). With a friendly wave he was on his way and I really wanted to walk back to my pile of discarded ‘treasures’ but I didn’t, musing that I had taken enough with the large quartz cluster slab (still in Ed’s rucksack). The following morning we were awoken by the purring of a motorcycle. This time the nomad (of the previous evening) had come back with his son. We hopped out of the truck and the nomad had brought a bag full of little geodes, agate and crystal clusters and he insisted on us taking them. We were overjoyed and Ed returned the favour giving him a fancy box of peanut and caramel brittle. We got our map of Mongolia out and spread it on the ground and then explained to our visitors the route we had so far travelled through Mongolia. All the while the nomad nodded energetically and explained it all to his son (who I have to say looked quite disinterested….. lol). And if the small bag of minerals weren’t enough, the motorcycle buzzed away and so we set to tidying the truck and getting back on the road, before the nomad returned a third time with a geode this time bigger than Ed’s head! It was a huge lump of rock with quartz crystals poking out the end. It seemed far too generous a gift and again the nomad insisted we take it. He didn’t ask for any money at all. Because he had been so kind however, Ed gave him $25 dollars anyway and we felt pleased he accepted the gesture. As we drove away I wondered how we were going to get the thing through customs…… We continued on the track south bearing towards our next destination; ‘Bichigt Had’ (The Valley of the Writings). We’d had a tremendous few days already and it was about to get better and better. The Valley of the Writings is a remote rocky canyon filled with 5000 year old petroglyphs and like the crystal cave we had a GPS position but no mapped route to get there. After a few hours the Ikh Bogd Range disappeared behind us and we slowly approached a new mountain range; Ikh Bayan Nuruu, and somewhere within those mountains was our destination. Our track passed through a small town before slowly ascending towards the hills, and much like the northern approach to the Ikh Bogd range (from Orog Nur) a yawning gap in the mountains appeared before us and we entered a gorge of black sided volcanic walls along another soggy sandy riverbed. In some places the sand was very soft and deep and Ed regularly got out to check the ground. He also smashed us through the sand with as much force as the truck could muster to prevent us from getting stuck and not allowing the friction of the sand to bog us to a halt. It was a bit stressful, but eventually we successfully arrived in an elevated rocky valley above the riverbed, filled with green minty grey weathered schist gleaming silver in the sunlight. It was an odd landscape but again something we had never yet witnessed (before or in Mongolia) and all the while our eyes were searching for a track bearing south-west. Our first attempt to find the correct track failed and we ended up outside a Ger (luckily no one was home). Our second attempt however, was more successful and albeit we had more than 30km of un-mapped Mongolian space to navigate, we felt confident we were going in the correct direction as dark volcanic mountains loomed ahead of us. Further we drove, and the track suddenly transformed and we were driving through a flat plateau strewn with rounded granite boulders and alive with an endless carpet of wild alliums, their pink and white pom pom flower heads bobbing in the breeze. We had seen such a carpet in the South Gobi as well. The alliums obviously loved the sand and looking into the distance their density could mistake them for grass. It was wonderful and once more reminded me of an epic scene from LOTR. After a few more hours (and after getting a little bit lost) we finally found the correct track into the mountains. We had entered a small gorge of dark red-black rocks that glinted with a metallic sheen in the sunshine. Not far from the entrance to the valley we arrived at a cross-roads with several similar valleys leading off in several directions and as Ed continued to edge the truck forward I shouted ‘stop!’ I had seen a petroglyph of an ibex on a slab of rock outside my window! We parked the truck alongside one of the dark valley walls and avoiding the heat of the day, took a short siesta in the truck before exploring the valley in the early evening. It was deathly still and quiet and I thought altogether a little bit creepy. The black rocks were dark and slightly menacing and we soon realised that there were about seven interconnecting valley’s (basically miniature gorges of their own) and my paranoid brain couldn’t help wondering what was lurking around every corner! It was silly really, but we were over 100km from the nearest town and it was bloody remote. Walking down the main arm of the valley we concentrated our attention to the south facing rocks which had turned more metallic in the sunlight, and very soon were greeted with hundreds of petroglyphs and some of them required a bit of climbing to see them. Even after ten minutes of searching, Ed spotted a huge slab about 10m above the valley floor which was covered in more than 20 petroglyphs. They consisted of mostly ibex with large rounded antlers, but with wolves (attacking the ibex) and small figures of men shooting bows and arrows. They were so simple but at the same time such beautiful images scratched into the surface of the metallic rock. After about 2hrs of exploring the valley we were flabbergasted by the place. It was an ancient relic in its own right we had it all to ourselves. We could hardly believe that there were still places like this in the world and felt like children again, all excited and ready to believe in anything. Soon however, the sun began to fade and the wind picked up. Suddenly my feelings of isolation returned as darkness descended and the black rocks looked even blacker in the fading light. I have to say, I was a bit scared that night (what a wuss I am, but you try sleeping in a spooky valley in the middle of the Gobi desert in a truck……lol). The following morning (Tuesday 29th July) we took the opportunity to explore one of the other small valleys before the sun got too high in the sky and stumbled on petroglyph after petroglyph (although I did see more depiction of wolves in this valley than the previous). I lingered alone exploring the rocks while Ed walked back to the truck and put up the awning to provide us with some shade. We remained in the valley the entire day, half expecting to see a Toyota Land Cruiser or Uaz bearing tourists. But no one came. Subsequently we went for one more walk in the evening and spent a second night in the valley (and it was just as spooky the second night! I still couldn’t sleep). On Wednesday 30th July (Congratulations Mr & Mrs Seargant!) we left the Valley of the Writings and retraced our route back to the town of Bayanlig, before heading west to our next destination Tsagaan Bulag) meaning ‘White Spring’. We had read that the locality was a large lump of white marble with rock inscriptions and of course, a spring. Also the local children slide down the rock face and over the years the marble has smoothed into a slick waterslide. By late evening (again we had no mapped route, only a GPS) we drove towards a glinting white beacon in the distance which in fact, did turn out to be the sun reflecting from a shiny marble rock surface. The outcrop was very pretty and a natural arch of weathered marble stood on the top of it, so we walked up to that first and enjoyed the view of the plateau below. After further scrabbling (I was stupidly wearing flip flops), we happened upon the rock engravings which (I thought) looked like the head and antlers of an ibex, and several strange footprints in-filled with criss-cross patterns. Next (Indianna-Ed couldn’t stop himself) we slid down the marble slide (which was dry; there was no spring). Ed was surprised how slippery it was and with a bit too much forward momentum zoomed down to the bottom, and so watching him I slowed myself down with my feet! Hehe. It was all good fun though. Not as spectacular as the crystal cave, or the Valley of the Writings, but definitely worth a look. We spent the night not far from Tsagaan Bulag on a marble slab of our very own. It was a beautiful evening and the sky was lit up with a pink and orange sunset and we marvelled at everything we had seen so far in Mongolia. The country just kept on rewarding us at every turn. If we hadn’t already been spoiled, we spent the following two days driving to an abandoned Buddhist Monastery (Amarbuyant Khidd) through more awe inspiring scenery. It took a little while (and lots of luck) but we finally found the monastery on the eve of Friday 1st August, and sadly it was no longer abandoned. The drive to it however (albeit we got very lost), was utterly spectacular. We had to navigate through undulating hills with granite teeth heaving from the earth, along a beautiful flat valley flanked with golden intricate ribboned mountains, and through various sandy river beds and muddy gorges (overlooked by suspicious herds of camels). The journey alone was worth the destination (if that makes any sense) as sadly we thought the renovation of the Monastery had not been sympathetic and we longed to see the promised (Lonely Planet) ruined version instead. After spending the night in the hills above the Monastery we continued north back to the Aimag Capital of Bayanhongor, via one final destination (on our list); Boon Tsagaan Nuur, which comprised another large salty lake. On the eve of Saturday 2nd August (whilst heading north) we rescued a Stupa loaded on the back of a small truck! Yes a Stupa! It was hilarious. We were driving along and suddenly a nomad appeared on a motorcycle waving urgently at us to stop and follow him. He had a kind face and obviously needed help, so we followed suit, and after five minutes we arrived at the stupa bearing truck, which was trapped in the sandy mud. The vehicle was blatantly overloaded and it suddenly occurred to us that the Stupa may be going to the monastery from where we had driven that very same morning. If that was the case, we knew the vehicle had no chance of making it and it did worry us a bit. Ed pulled them out with ease using the winch and the lady wife (in the truck) filmed the whole thing with her smart phone. The driver was very pleased and we wondered on the role of the old man on the motorcycle because he quickly got his wallet out and tried to give Ed money, which of course he refused profusely. Finally the old man gave in and we waved the party goodbye, another good deed completed in kind. Ed loved rescuing the locals. It felt like we were giving something back to a country from which we had taken so much pleasure. It was a good trade. On Sunday 3rd August we arrived at Boon Tsagaan Nuur through more ridiculously amazing scenery. We ascended once more into the Ikh Bogd mountain range and passed through several stunning valleys filled with alliums, wild flowers, all the while flanked by superb rock formations. About one hour before reaching the lake we passed into the most AWESOME black rocky gorge of the entire trip. It was so epic in scale and proportion Ed and I were actually frightened to be driving through it. We had to get out of the truck and challenge our fears (and take photos!). The cliffs of black metallic rock (much like that of the valley of the writings) loomed some 50 odd metres high on either side and the track on which we drove was ‘just’ wide enough (at times) for the truck to squeeze through. The atmosphere created by the rocks was one of oppression and exhilaration! It was so unnerving because we didn’t know how long the gorge would last and whether we would make it through or not. It was a real path into the unknown and the track meandered tightly from left to right, and at times there was an illusion that we would drive into a wall of rock! Only on approaching the bend did you realise that the track continued to twist and turn. It was EPIC!!! As we finally exited the gorge path (with sadness but some relief), Ed spotted a vehicle on a ridge above us on the right and so beeped the horn (thinking they were overlanders as well). It turned out to be however, a family of locals and they had broken down on the ridge and needed to borrow a spanner. Within minutes two men had scrabbled down the side of the hill followed by three small boys. We both got out to greet them and Ed extracted his ‘giant’ tool box from the truck which impressed the two men immensely. One of the little boys took the spanner back up the ridge and within 5 minutes the car was descending towards us! It was unbelievable but two women (one carrying a baby) and another man got out to say hello and thank us. They were so sweet and we were highly amused when 3 men, 2 women, 3 boys and a baby all squashed back into the one (normal sized) car and drove away! LOL! We spent the night overlooking the blue waters of Boon Tsagaan Nur. White Gers dotted the lakes edge and the rim of mountains (from whence we came) glowed in the evening sunlight. It was a stunning place and albeit we were hidden in a small hollow wedged between the mountains and the water (totally out of sight), two young lads on a motorbike still managed to find us! We were chillaxing in the truck when loud booming music filled the air and there they appeared outside. Ed had put the steps down and so he hopped out the back and indicated for them to enter the truck and have a look inside. I was sat at the table writing when they appeared next to me. They were very polite however, and seemed extremely fascinated by the sink (all water in the majority of Mongolia is extracted from a well). On Monday 4th August we continued north back to Bayanhongor. Not far from the lake however, our track passed alongside a huge 15m sand dune (which had swallowed up another track) and so we couldn’t prevent ourselves from climbing it and marking the virgin sand with our footprints. The view over the top of it was amazing and we realised the dune was a crescent shape with a perfect ridge at the top. It was too much fun. Ed tried to push me off the edge of it (which was really steep!) before we dragged ourselves off it and continued north. By late evening we arrived once more to the town of Bayanhongor and our previous campsite by the river. It was odd to be in the same place twice as it was the first time so far (in our entire trip) that we had returned to an old camp spot. The tinkling river however, was soothing and we were exhausted. We couldn’t help but reflect on what we had seen and achieved since we were last here. We really had found the adventure we were looking for and we were so glad that we had decided to explore this one particular area of Mongolia. We had been brave and bold and on this occasion is had paid off…. We didn’t want to think about all the things that could have gone wrong… It didn’t matter now, we were back in town and back on tarmac. All that was left for us now was to spend a day washing clothes before heading north to the border and out of Mongolia….. The following day we were just about to eat a late lunch after hours of washing the dirties, when Ed spotted a young lad walking across the opposite river bank. He was carrying two rucksacks and a lute and Ed called out to him. It turned out that he was English, from Oxford and his name was Joe. He was only 22 and had been hitching his way bravely from western Mongolia back to Ulaanbataar. He was such a lovely lad we invited him to eat with us and ended up chatting all night (‘we hope we didn’t chew your ear off Joe and that you made it home safely!’). That night Joe slept in his tent outside the truck and the following morning we all shared breakfast before parting ways. We were also heading in the direction of UB but it would take us several days to get there (plus our middle seat wasn’t really appropriate for a long journey through Mongolia) and Joe needed to catch his fight home by the coming Sunday. We felt sure he would be fine (he was a capable lad) and so waved him goodbye as we left Bayanhongor heading east back on the Millennium Road. We finally arrived back in the Capital in the early hours of Saturday 9th August. It was 6am, but we knew that this was our only chance to drive into the mayhem that is UB while the roads were quiet. I desperately wanted us to visit the infamous ‘Black Market’ (don’t worry mam, it’s not illegal!) which we had missed during our last visit, and so we managed to find a spot to park not 2km from it (at 6am) and then we waited for it to open. Ed had not been warm to the idea, but because we had arrived so early in the morning, navigating the city was a breeze. Soon we were wandering the stalls and it was awesome. Everything was for sale from fruit and veg, clothes, authentic Mongolian boots, cashmere and woollen clothes, and even all the material you need to make your own Ger (felts, canvas, rope and lino!). There was definitely a ‘nomadic section’ filled with everything you might need to kit out your own horse, but sadly we couldn’t find any of the quilted coats or robes that we had seen all the local nomads sporting. Also I tried my damn hardest to get Ed to try on some of the nomadic boots but he didn’t want to! (Sorry Lucy, we didn’t buy any). We managed to wander the entire market before lunch however, and only one person tapped Ed’s pocket (for cash)… but Indianna-Eds pockets were too wiley! By the afternoon we were out of the city and heading north to the border, and by the following evening (Sunday) the Mongolian landscape which we had become accustomed to changed. Forested areas and cultivated fields appeared and some 50km from the Mongolian-Russian border we already felt like we had left Mongolia. And on the morning of Monday 11th August we did leave….. It felt like the end of something special. Mongolia was truly unforgettable and we wouldn’t have changed any of it. We felt every spectrum of emotion when we were there; blissful awe and euphoria, fear, excitement and above all satisfaction. We had made it! The TRUCK had made it…. It was a good feeling. The border crossing was ‘okay’ and took around 2 hours. On the Russian side however, there was a hairy few moments when the border guard didn’t believe that Ed’s passport belonged to him! The angle of the sun must have lightened his eyes because the border guard (a women) insisted that his eyes in the photograph were brown, but when she looked at him she could see they were much paler! Well Ed’s eyes are a moss hazely green and sadly the passport photo was tinted slightly brown anyway! As was mine! (bloody Tesco Photo Booth!!!!). Four people had to come and inspect Ed’s face and it didn’t help that in his passport he had a shaved head and face, but standing before them was a man with a giant hairy beard! We couldn’t believe how ridiculous it all was as we had passed through eight borders before then with no issue! This was our third entry into Russia! Eventually they conceded and we were allowed into Siberia! The end of the road is in sight! Lots of Love Ros & Ed. Hello (Sain Bainuu in Mongolian). We only bloody made it to Mongolia!!!!!! Sorry the blog is so late. We have struggled to find Wifi in Mongolia. Instead however, we have found the heart of the trip and dreams have become reality. Mongolia is a wonderful country. It feels like an ancient land, all weathered and old, and full of mystery and promise. Also the people are some of the most wonderful and generous we have experienced and there is so much to see and do. I for one have been really surprised. Ed I his wisdom, knew it all along, planning all the while to spend the summer in this magnificent land. So what have we been doing? Well, for the most part, trying not to get lost or stuck in the mud / sand. We really have been bold in Mongolia and thankfully luck has been on our side (as well as Ed’s highly skilled driving)… It could have gone either way however. Mongolia is not a country to mess around in and take risks. The distances between towns are huge and the land is largely remote. Also we came to realise that most of the vehicles here are small 4x4’s and very few (if any) vehicles could have rescued us if we’d got stuck. It became more and more apparent that the truck would have to be abandoned if this was such an eventuality, which was difficult to accept and definitely gave us some sleepless nights. Don’t worry though. We made it. We definitely did get stuck in the mud, but we have survived to tell the tale, and the first three weeks go something like this…….. It seems a little while ago now, but before we made it to the Mongolian border (for the crossing on the 25th June), just 50km from the border we got stuck in a salty quicksand pit, which in actuality was a good lesson learned before heading into Mongolia. We had pulled off the main tarmac road in search of a camp spot for the night. The ground looked firm and Ed swung the truck around to begin driving up an off road track to the hills where we could be out of sight of the main road. Ed put on the breaks as he realised we had hit some soft ground. When he tried to carefully reverse out of it, the right rear wheel sunk into the mud. We hopped out to check the damage and realised we had sunk almost a metre into the ground. You could step straight into the back of the truck without the ladder! It was ridiculous! We both shook our heads in disbelief as the ground all around us was firm….. Ed started digging out the back wheel and the earth underneath the large diesel tank. Luckily the ground was really soft and it didn’t take him too long. Next, we scanned the area for something to winch off, eyeing three redundant wooden telegraph poles next to the main road! We were literally only about 80m from the gleaming tarmac, so all passers-by could see us. This was slightly embarrassing, but at the same time extraordinarily useful. As Ed was getting the winch ready, a man in a silver vehicle (with two small children) approached us and got out to help. By this point, Ed had lost one of his flip flops on route to the redundant telegraph pole which were sat in a black wet bog. The nice man who had come to help, rolled up his trousers and climbed in the bog with Ed, helping him to attach the winch strops to one of the telegraph poles. All the while I was filming the action next to the truck. Ten minutes later, Ed had successfully removed all three redundant telegraph poles and the truck hadn’t budged an inch! His legs were black with bog mud and the mosquitoes had arrived to add insult to injury. The local man however had a plan, and (not speaking a word of English) he conveyed to Ed that he knew someone with a tractor, and so he got on the phone. Ed agreed a price with him first and soon after he had hopped back in his silver car, promising to return. The sun had been beaming on us all afternoon, but by now the skies were darkening dramatically and we could hear thunder rolling in the distance. It worried us a little, as if it rained, we were unlikely to escape the mud and could be stuck here for a little while longer. Almost as soon as the silver car had disappeared however, the front of a HGV arrived (called the ‘tractor unit’) and the lads driving it agreed to attempt to winch us out (again for a price; about £10 eqv.). I got filming again as Ed connected the cable to the back of their vehicle. They were attempting to pull us from the back of the truck as they were afraid of also getting stuck if they approached the boggy ground from the front. After a few tugs it appeared futile (as Ed had predicted). Subsequently as I continued filming the failing attempts, an iconic moment occurred. One that Ed will remember (and cherish) forever (remember he is obsessed with Russian Trucks). Suddenly a massive beast of Russian metal on wheels approached the scene; a six wheel drive Ural Tanker, military green and being manoeuvred by a bald Russian in military garb. What were the chances! He hopped out and Ed greeted him literally grinning from ear to ear. Within minutes lots of hammering ensued at the end of the Russian Ural (opening the toe-hitch) and soon Ed was hooked up and ready for a yank! With absolute ease, seconds later (once the Ural had engaged 6 wheel drive), the truck popped out. It was hilarious and Ed was so pleased to be rescued by such a vehicle! The Russian chap didn’t want any money. He just wanted to offer his services. Ed was still smiling days and weeks afterwards (even as I write this)…. Lol. After the Russian Rescue Mission, we finally found a quiet spot for the night (off road on hard ground) and after watching the rescue video a few times, finally settled down for the night. On Wednesday 25th June we finally crossed the border into Mongolia... a dream come true for Ed. The border crossing took about five and a half hours all told. This was mainly a result of a family of 20 people ahead of us dumping a pile of passports on the desk of the border guard moments before we got there, and because the ‘entire’ Mongolian border (every one of it’s staff!) closed for lunch for one hour from 1pm – 2pm. Also worth a mention, the Mongolian borders are shut on weekends. On the Russian side, Ed sauntered in to the Russian passport control office just as the border guard was shouting at the man with the 20 passports. As soon as Ed was spotted, the border guard actually grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and chucked him out of the office! I came to explore and more shouting occurred as we waited patiently for an hour outside the office (with a Kyrgyz overlander on a motorbike). When it was finally our turn the border guard processed our passports in silence (thankfully) and once complete he threw them across the table towards us (charming), indicating we could go on our way. There was about 20km of Russian border land before we crossed another checkpoint into no-man’s land and a further 10km to the Mongolian border where we hung around for 2 hours (due to the Mongolian lunch hour). The Mongolian side actually only took 45 minutes. And then we were in Mongolia. The land of the eternal blue sky, nomads, dirt tracks and the five snouts (horse, cow/yak, goat, sheep and camels!). After acquiring the vehicle insurance and exchanging dollars for Mongolian currency we headed to the nearest town on gravel tracks (a road in construction from the border, but far from finished). It was time to get used to this fact and embrace sand, mud and grass as our new road surfaces… At the first town near the border, we were very soon being followed by a local wearing a black leather jacket riding a red motorbike. Ed wound down the window and the (inquisitive) young man wanted to offer his services to us in the form of a guide. We chuckled at his eagerness, but kept saying no. He did however give us an important tit bit of information regarding the track we were planning to take north to a large lake called Ureg Nur. Apparently due to recent rain the road was unnavigable and two American tourists had become stuck in the mud earlier that day. We thanked him for his information, but undeterred he continued to follow us on his bike. As we attempted to evade him, heading out of town towards the Olgi road, a white Mercedes Sprinter driven by Swiss overlanders approached us, so we instantly pulled over to say hello. While we were having a conversation (through the cab window), more locals on motorbikes turned up, checking out the truck and just ‘staring’. It was all a bit odd. Being a border town, the locals were savvy to tourists it seemed. The Swiss couple (Lydia and Andre) were absolutely wonderful, so we decided to camp for the night with them (next to a lake just out of town) and subsequently spent the evening sharing tea and biscuits in the truck, and stories of the road. Lydia and Andre had already been through Russia and Mongolia and were working their way back via the Stan’s from whence we had arrived. We swapped maps, books, photos, advice and news of the roads. It was so wonderful chatting to them and they advised us on the best bits of Mongolia they had seen, helping us decide which roads (tracks) to take. The following morning Lydia and Andre invited us for coffee in their van and we whiled away another couple of hours chatting merrily. They were the friendliest most genuine people and invited us to stop over in Switzerland on our return journey to the UK, and so we could return each-others books and maps and catch up on our individual adventures. With beaming faces we waved them goodbye and began our own Mongolian adventure…. They were so sweet and hopped out of their Mercedes sprinter waving us off enthusiastically in the middle of the road. From Thursday 26th June it would take us 13 days to get to the capital Ulaanbataar via the northern roads. But what roads, what scenery. Mongolia is a special place indeed. Our diverted route on Thursday 26th June, took us to the most remarkable lake and surrounding scenery we had witnessed so far on the trip. We chuckled as we drove into the ‘nothing’ following dirt tracks that spun in all directions, sometimes ten of them running parallel with each other simulating a Mongolian super-highway. It was unnerving and exciting all at the same time. Thankfully we had a trusty GPS (Thanks Jeroen!) and fantastic mapping software, so we could record our tracks in Mongolian space and ensure we could retrace our route if we got lost! The only down-side to this amazing plan, was that the 12volt transformer in the cab which supported the car charger had frazzled and exploded in Kyrgyzstan! Subsequently we had no power supply in the cab to keep the lap top charged, so every 4 hours or so, we would have to stop and charge the laptop in the back! On the upside however, this meant more R&R stops for tea and biscuits, so we weren’t complaining too much, but when you calculate the distance covered in a 10 hour driving day and realise its only 100km, it’s a bit worrying! We got to the point where we didn’t want to care too much about that (even though we had a deadline to be in the capital by the 8th July), we just wanted to relax and soak up Mongolia. On the afternoon of Thursday 26th June, after passing through a beautiful rocky valley following the meandering River Khovd and over a rocky desert-steppe plain so remote it sent a few shivers up our spines, we arrived at a Lake called Achit Nur. White Ger’s (referred to as Yurts in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan) dotted the lakes edge and the five snouts grazed freely the green grass. Up on high, we approached the lake from a magnificent vantage point from the south-east. The lake was set within a huge bowl shaped valley surrounded (to the south) by a rim of fantastic salmon pink granite hills which had been weathered into rounded nobbly crags. We parked the truck up next to one of the granite monoliths and walked along the pink rocks looking down into the stunning valley. Layer upon layer of mountains rose beyond the lake to the north and west. To the east the sun glinted on yellow sand dunes puckered with black boulders and dark menacing rocks, and to the south-east, lush green grass shone brightly in the wonderful Mongolian light. In the centre of it all, a deep blue lake reflected the mountains, rock and sky, framed by the wonderfully weathered pink granite rocks on which were perched. It was stunningly beautiful. The evening light cast new shadows and colours and we literally sat upon the nobbly granite for hours staggered by scene below, all the while enjoying the warm Mongolian breeze on our faces. Adding even more drama, black clouds approached from the south and a wonderful rainbow appeared, followed quickly by a lightening storm. Mongolia was putting on a show for us, and we loved every minute of it taking some of the best photos of the trip. Ed insisted we sit outside drinking tea until the scenery had finally faded into darkness. So in the rain punctuated by lightening, we watched the sun set over Achit Nur. The following morning (Friday 27th June) we were greeted by a young nomad on a small brown horse. He had obviously spotted us from the Ger camps below and had led his heard of goats and sheep up to see us. He had a friendly darkly tanned face and simply stared first at Ed and then at the truck. He was especially interested in watching me put the breakfast stuff away and seemed content to linger at the door while Ed tried to communicate with him. It was impossible to guess his age. I hopped out of the truck with the polaroid and took a picture of him standing alongside Ed and his horse, passing him the photo as it developed. He seemed pleased. Ed (with hilarious hand actions) asked him if the grass was good here and whether his herd were fattening up nicely (hehe). Apparently this is one of the nicest things to ask a nomad and the young man seemed extraordinarily pleased with Ed for enquiring about us animals. A huge smile broke over his face. After our first nomadic encounter we drove around the eastern shore of the lake and then north to another slightly larger lake called Ureg Nur. The skies clouded over as we approached it, once more from a vantage point, and from the south. The road before the lake was rocky with alpine scenery of larch / coniferous forest and fresh green grass sprinkled with Edelweiss and wonderful lilac flowers similar to a daisy but much larger (we think they were Asters). The view of the milky blue waters of Ureg Nur came into view. It was serene and pretty, but the wonderful drama of Achit Nur had spoiled us. The pebbly shores of the lake were buzzing with flies, so we camped a little way up the valley looking down on the lake and were soon visited by two nomads and a small child on a motorbike. You can’t hide from anyone in Mongolia. The two men and son came to shake our hands and look at the truck (and us) with interest. Ed showed them around and we got one of our maps out indicating to them how far we had driven to get to Mongolia. They couldn’t get enough of the truck (being boys) and they all climbed inside the cab including the little 5 year old son. He had no problems climbing up the steps! - Very impressive. The father of the little boy asked us (we think) if we had any children. We shook our heads and then jokingly he passed his five year old son over to us indicating we should take him with us! It was an interesting thing to have done and we wondered if there was some seriousness behind it as perhaps he thought his son could have a better life away from this beautiful place. An easier life may, but not necessarily a better / happier one we pondered later. After a little while the motorbike mounted nomads left and we settled down for the evening. On Saturday morning we dropped down to the lake edge. It was a glorious sunny morning, so we decided to walk a little around the lake and dip our toes in the lovely cold water. There was also a lagoon and some pretty pebbly beaches along the south-eastern shore where we lingered for a while watching a rocky island within the lake covered in black cormorants and huge seagulls chatting away noisily. It suddenly felt like we were at the seaside. Ed also enjoyed himself skimming stones and looking out for fish. We spotted a few large black ones, but Ed wasn’t sure what they were. The remainder of the day was spent driving east through a tremendous grassy valley with ochre red soil covered either side with bright purple wild irises. The wonderful road dropped down steeply revealing what looked like an expansive blue sea on the horizon. As we descended further we realised we were dropping down into a flat plateau on route to our first large Mongolian town; Ulaangom. The view to the east was simply magnificent as we descended into the valley. The vastness of the land spread out for miles and miles. I don’t think my eyes have ever seen so far in my life. It was as daunting as it was awesome and we just kept drinking in the spectacular epicness that is Mongolia. A few hours east of Ulaangom (after enjoying our first short stretch of tarmac since the border) we found ourselves in a vast area of flat desert steppe, with not a soul around. It was a sticky hot evening and we trundled slowly on numerous dusty sand tracks for a few hours more, absorbing the quiet, flat and empty land. We passed the odd Ger and empty looking Corral (a pen for the 5 snouts) and wondered how anyone could survive out here. One of the largest lakes in Mongolia (Uug Nur) lay to our left (the north) somewhere, but we couldn’t see anything except endless desert-steppe and infinite blue sky. Finally after hours of rough rutted sandy tracks we pulled off onto the desert-steppe at sunset in time to watch the bright red sun finally drop below the infinite horizon. A pink glow was cast on a range of mountains to the south and it really was beautiful. An odd warm breeze buffeted the truck and the smell of worm-wood (similar to thyme but sweeter) filled our nostrils as we halted for the night. Ed absolutely loved the flat desert landscape. It was so remote, so desolate. He thought it was brilliant to spend at least one night in the ‘nothing’ contemplating our isolation. Luckily I was too tired to think about it. We had hardly seen a vehicle since Ulaangom and nothing big enough to rescue us if we got stuck. It was difficult to ward away anxious thoughts of the truck breaking down as we went to sleep. The following morning, Ed woke up at 6am and spent a little while sat outside in the sun soaking up the views. It was too early for me, but I heard him shouting through the window that he had just seen something that looked like a small ostrich walk by (possibly a Rhea). When I was finally made to move (by Ed) at 7am, we set off, taking advantage of the cooler morning air. In the heat of the day (it must have been nearly 40 degrees Celsius) we stopped for a rest and some food. Ed got his little Ukranian stove out and put up our tarpaulin, attached to the side of the truck providing much needed shade. We were soon digging in to an epic potatoe curry, finally taking in the landscape, the heat and the views. It was brilliant. My fears of the previous evening dissolved as I realised that this was why Ed wanted to come to Mongolia. To experience these landscapes, this remoteness all to ourselves was special indeed. Plus the desert-lunch camp looked awesome. And suddenly, before our eyes, the desert-steppe came to life. Very soon we were joined by about nine huge eagles sat in a semi-circle around us some 50m distant spaced about 20m apart as we ate our lunch. Perhaps we were interesting to them because we provided a ‘feature’ in the endless nothing. Either way, we had a great view of them and eyed them as closely as they eyed us. As well as the eagle’s interest, the shade we were providing in the desert heat seemed to attract strange insects and butterflies. A very odd ‘massive’ cricket kept crawling towards me. It was perfectly camouflaged, coloured beige with flecks of dark brown and about 7cm long with a fat body and very large curved upright tail. Even more exotic, were bigger lime green crickets with black and red wings that flew around us sporadically making disturbingly loud clicking noises before zooming down into their burrows. They were the same size as a small bird in flight and I let out a girlie scream when one of them clicked suddenly towards me. The eagles were after the flying clicking things, and we watched them aerobatic their way to lunch while we tucked into to our potatoe curry. It was quite an awesome desert camp (see pictures). Plus Ed’s giant hairy beard and hat makes him look like Indianna-Ed – the real adventurer. Hehe. We finally left our desert camp and continued east. With some relief (my own) the flat desert scape eventually gave way to small soft golden sand dunes at the base of rolling grass covered hills. We passed a pretty meandering stream and the water’s edge was covered in Demoiselle Cranes. They are stunning creatures; a similar shape to an ostrich but much smaller, grey in colour and with a long mane (beard) of black hair-like feathers running down the underside of their necks. Very odd, but amazing at the same time. We had seen a few in Kazakhstan as well. They are usually always a pair (husband and wife) and lots of these ones had little babies as well. By the evening we were in a wide grassy valley (in parts cultivated) with pointy green carpeted mountains on either side. We stopped for the night on the top of a hill overlooking endless folds of soft grassy steppe, capped with ancient weathered rocky crags. Wonderful layered sand dunes lay to the north illuminated by the evening sunlight (which very oddly had trees growing out of them) and it was staggeringly beautiful. The scale of the landscape was incredible and only slightly elevated on a hill, we could see for miles and miles in all directions. A mild breeze jostled wild flowers in the long grass outside the truck and Ed once more sat on alone on a rocky crag admiring the view. I watched him from the truck window and my heart glowed for him. We were both very happy. On Monday 30th June we passed more rolling hills, this time forested with larch (on the north-facing slopes only) before stopping at a pretty stream for lunch where we spent some time washing our clothes and filling up the water tank. Amusingly, a mini-bus full of locals stopped to say hello. They seemed fascinated by our presence, all the while giggling at us…. All very odd (I blame the beard). That evening another rainstorm swept in and we spent the night on the slope of a grassy mountain surrounded by grazing horses. The following morning (Tuesday 1st July), first and foremost, we couldn’t believe it was July (!!!) we continued east. After about 30 minutes on the road we bumped into an overlander. He was an Australian called Mick and he had ridden all the way to Mongolia from Australia on a motorbike. He had a giant grey bushy beard and a friendly face. We stopped to chat to him and learned he had been bogged down in the mud earlier in the morning (so he was a bit grumpy). The overnight rain had left deep puddles and muddy tracks. None of it a match for the truck however. By lunchtime we ascended into the Mongolian landscape Ed had been dreaming of for more than 17 years. The infamous grassy-steppe where the land rolled on and on for miles in all directions covered in bright green grass and beautiful wild flowers. The weathered rounded hills ambled away to the horizon and we couldn’t resist stopping for a little while to enjoy it. It was different from the other grassy scenery we had so far experienced in Mongolia, because the rocky crags and triangular mountains had now disappeared, replaced by an endless softness of green. We got our damp washing out from the previous day and made a line with some poles, using the side of the truck for support and then enjoyed an epic lunch of ham, egg and chips on our deck chairs in the Mongolian sunshine. Although we were really quite isolated, the land had a friendly calm sereneness about it. Here we were and we had it all to ourselves. It was a special moment for Ed as he had been dreaming about this landscape for 17 years. Aged 15 (and unwell at the time) he had scoured over fly-fishing magazines illustrating the Mongolian Steppe, all the while dreaming of visiting this remote land. And here he was. He had made it. Confronted with reality, Ed had a powerful sense of achievement. It meant so much to be here and I was so very proud of him, as I am sure all of his friends and family are back at home. He has worked unbelievably hard, tooth and nail to get here. His life has taken so many twists and turns since that young lad of 15, but his path had always been true. Seventeen years of dreaming and battling illness, seven years of hard graft at RAW and over four years of working on the truck at weekends (with an annoying welsh girl occasionally complaining at him to spend more time with her…..) has finally led him here. Ed never gave up on his dream which has finally culminated in two people staring at the epic Steppe, pondering life, happiness, the past and the future. Eventually (after scoffing ham, egg and chips and filming ourselves eating! Lol!), we hopped back into the truck and continued to amble on grass covered tracks through endless soft green undulating valleys. Occasionally craggy weathered granite would crown the tops of the rounded hills and that evening we ascended to one of the crags. It was probably one of the steepest ascents the truck had managed to date and we ended up spending the night on top of a precipice alongside a craggy granite rock formation that looked like dinosaurs teeth rising out of the steppe. Before we settled down for the night we climbed to the top of the granite crag and enjoyed the evening sunshine looking down into the endless green, feeling quite content and happy with life. On Wednesday morning (2nd July) I filmed the trucks epic descent of the steep hill (which didn’t look as frightening as it probably felt for Ed in the cab!). Continuing through more grassy-steppe we finally descended into a small village where a camel was parked outside a house, all packed up and ready to go on a trip it seemed. We took a left opposite the camel taking a track not even mapped on our GPS, in the hopes to take a shorter route to a large lake we were heading to, called Lake Khovsgol. It turned out however, that the track ended at a wide and beautiful river. Due to the rain the previous night, the river was too deep for us to drive across. To Ed’s delight however, it was an absolutely stunning fishing river. The weather and location was too pretty to waste, so I got my deck chair out and Ed his fly-rod, for a spot of fishing. A gusty wind blew down the valley, but this didn’t prevent Ed catching a small Taimen (trout-like fish) within 5 minutes. Ed fishes with un-barbed hooks (much friendlier and eco-conscious), so after saying hello to the little beastie (and without touching him) Ed released the hook and the pretty little fish swam away. I filmed him casting into the water enjoying himself. He really does look like Indianna-Ed (see pictures). After an hour of catching little Taimen tiddlers (and returning them to the river unscathed) we left the banks of the beautiful river and returned to the village where the loaded camel was still patiently waiting for his master. We continued on a ‘mapped’ track which took up a steep hill of grassy steppe before descending into a marvellous pink granite valley where the same river (we had enjoyed earlier) meandered through the centre. The river was lined with pretty trees (possibly mulberry) and so we stopped for lunch on the grassy leafy banks enjoying the shade. Later that evening, the sun still shone brightly on the horizon as we finally made it to a town called Moron, from which we would drive north to Lake Khovsgol in search of potential moose, bear and wolves. This most northerly area of Mongolia is the transition zone between the Siberian Taiga and the grassy steppe. We had heard good reviews with regards to the lake from Mike (the Australian) and Lydia and Andre (the wonderful Swiss couple we met near the border) so we thought we couldn’t miss it, even though we were in a bit of a rush to get to the capital (Ulaanbaatar) by the 8th July. We spent the night north of Moron some 25km south of Khovsgol at a sulphurous smelling lake, arriving just at sunset. The road from Moron to Khatgal was pristine tarmac, something we hadn’t witnessed since Ulaangom. The following day we arrived at the lake (via a short stop in Khatgal) and made for the eastern shore via a river crossing (our deepest to date) deciding to avoid the more touristy western shore. The track to the lake was horrendous and it took us about 3.5hrs to drive 40km, finally settling on a scenic spot on the edge of a forest facing the lake and surrounded by grazing yak, goats and sheep. The weather was spotting rain, the air decidedly cool and it felt very British…. A feeling we weren’t expecting to experience in Mongolia! On 4th July we walked the shore of the lake which was covered in beautiful grey driftwood before heading into the forest. It was a beautiful forest. The grass along the lake shore was littered with wild flowers and even the forest floor was carpeted in them where the sun glimmered through. We had some fun following some animal tracks (and dung) hoping they were moose, but secretly Ed was sure they were Yak. The edge of the forest was the best place to pick wild flowers including a wonderful flame orange flower that we didn’t know the name of. I picked a huge bunch and we put them in a vase in the truck. Khovsgol was lovely but we couldn’t help feeling like we were back in the UK! The beautiful forest and flowers however, were stunning. We thought perhaps we felt some disappointment to be somewhere ‘so British-like’ and familiar when we had followed such a tough track to get there. Simply all the previous Mongolian scenery we had witnessed had spoiled us rotten! On 5th July we waved goodbye to the flowers and the Yak and headed south once more to Moron. Ed took the truck through the gushing river for the second time (near the main town of Khatgal) avoiding a dodgy looking 7.5tonne wooden bridge. I jumped out to film it and we spent a couple of hours having breakfast by the river and washing clothes. About 20km from Moron however, disaster struck. Ed could no longer change gear and we thought the clutch had gone on the truck…... It was too terrible to contemplate. We spent an hour trying to get to the root of the problem, me pumping the clutch while Ed bled the oil from various places. Finally, our efforts were rewarded and the clutch behaved normally, allowing us to arrive once more to the town of Moron by early evening. Coincidentally Ed’s mum, sister and niece (Rosie, Lucy and Annabelle) were also about to land in Moron as well! Ed had heard from his mum earlier that morning. They had flown out to UB a few days previous and were also now (previously unbeknown to us) heading up to Khovsgol. We were supposed to be meeting them in UB on the 8th July and were totally unaware that they would be coming to Moron. We had also hoped to get more miles under our belt, but the truck had had other ideas. We knew where Rosie, Lucy and Annabelle were planning to have dinner (after a text from Rosie) so we thought we would surprise them. We parked the truck in Moron, cleaned ourselves up and then waited for them in the hotel reception. Their faces were a picture when they arrived!, and we chuckled as fate seemed intent on us meeting them early it seemed. That evening, they drove north to the lake and we spent the night just outside Moron near a collection of deer stones (intricately carved monoliths 1000BC), which we found with the help of Rosie’s guide (Odka). The following morning (Sunday 6th July) we enjoyed the 14 wonderful stones. They are called deer stones because the majority of the carvings are of stylised deer, but they are supposed to represent warriors of the day. The carvings include a belt bearing the warriors weapons and one of the stones even had a face. They were amazing and equally amazing was the local looking after them who gave us a lovely welcome and fond farewell when we left. It rained all day on Sunday 6th July….. and the clutch gave up again. In the pouring rain, Ed drained the remaining contaminated clutch fluid to resolve the problem once and for all. Although Ed had checked the levels of clutch fluid before we left it was the only fluid he hadn’t completely changed as the oil appeared new in the reservoir back in the UK (it even said all fluids replaced in the book!). When draining it, it was almost black and contaminated with water so when everything got hot it became impossible to disengage the clutch. After a quick check through the instruction manual, the fluid was changed and the clutch was restored to full function hopefully without any lasting damage…… The track to Bulgan (our next destination on route to UB) was tarmac (from Moron) for the first 60km or so. The remainder of the day was spent smashing through mud filled puddles, sliding down bankings and winching out locals stuck in the mud. It got to the point where we were the only vehicle on the road, the truck (and Ed’s superb driving) managing the quagmire of a track well. We kept passing Ger-road stops absolutely crammed with vehicles as everyone had given up driving. We however, soldiered on until dusk and a fleece truck (we had passed earlier) also made it as far as we did and joined us on a dry patch of grass for the night. Ed loved the mud, rescuing locals and splashing the truck into the puddles. I was just glad we weren’t stuck! It was so slippery at times that the entire 10 tonnes of truck was slipping freely, Ed having far too much fun, spinning us 90 degrees, sliding around all over the place like he used to as a small boy (when destroying field cars). Thankfully the following morning we woke to wonderful sunshine and finally made it to Bulgan where we expected (hoped and crossed our fingers!) that the track would convert to wonderful tarmac to enable us to make it to UB in time (we didn’t really want tarmac). This time however, we had some friends as the fleece truck that spent the night alongside us wanted to travel in convoy with us to Bulgan. The loaded vehicle was about 16 tonne! It was a whopper and packed to the rafters with sheep fleeces. It was a probably one of the few vehicles we had seen that would be able to pull us out if we got stuck, and so we happily joined them in convoy (two local men and a lady). The carnage of the previous day continued and soon we were pulling out a Chinese HGV and the two fleece lads were generously helping with our winch. Similarly, we pulled the fleece truck up a steep banking allowing us to get onto a partially constructed road and a breather from mud. Finally we arrived in Bulgan and as we had hoped, we were greeted by tarmac! We quickly found a river where Ed decided to give the ridiculously muddy truck a wash, destroying all evidence of our last 20 hours or so off extreme off-roading. The fleece truck came to join us and we showed the two lads around the truck before thanking them and waving goodbye. That evening we drove and drove, completing a 14hour driving day, stopping for the night some 170km north of UB. It looked like we had nearly made it thanks to the presence of pristine tarmac from Bulgan to the next town (Erdenet). The tarmac disintegrated however, into a potholed horror road once we turned south from Darkhan to UB. On the 8th July at 2pm, we made it on time to UB, parking the truck (finally) in a locked compound, which turned out to be a train shunting yard. We arrived at the Best Western (Tuushin) Hotel around 4.30pm and collapsed in a heap! From 9th to 16th July we were scheduled to explore the south Gobi with Ed’s mum, sister and 6yr old niece Annabelle, flying south to Dalanzadgad…. And what a week we had. We travelled initially in two Toyota Land Cruisers driven by local Gobi men Boggy and Moggy with our wonderful guide and translator Nara. She was absolutely lovely. The first three nights were spent at three different Ger camps, each time heading west into the remote Gobi. We visited a beautiful volcanic gorge (Yolyn Am) with a glacier at its base (yes, ice in the Gobi!!), the famous ‘Flaming Cliffs’; an amazing red sandstone canyon famous for dinosaur fossil finds in the 1920’s (notably dinosaur eggs) and one of my favourite moments, we camel trekked to Mongolia’s largest sand dunes (Kongoryn Els) before hiking up the highest 200m sand dune. The view at the top was utterly spectacular and even little 6 year old Annabelle made it to the top. When it was finally time to descend it, I slid the entire 200m on my bottom! Epic. At the Flaming Cliffs (Bayanzag) I actually found (with luck) fragments of dinosaur egg shell, later confirmed (over the dinner) by our Palaeontologist who had arrived to join our group as we travelled west to more dinosaur sights. It was too exciting to contemplate, as no one had found anything at the fossil site for years! The nights of the 12th, 13th and 14th July were spent camping in the Gobi desert, initially at an amazing sandstone canyon (Nemegt) where we hunted for more fossils. The entire experience was something out of an Indiana Jones film, as by the time of our desert camping we were now a convoy of three Toyota Land Cruisers (with three local drivers), a cook, palaeontologist and our wonderful guide and translator (Nara). The entire experience was so out of this world (a real adventure) and I would like to thank Rosie for making it possible. It really was unbelievable. After Nemegt (where we found loads of dinosaur fossils!) we drove further west, and were taken to a site famous for fossilised turtles and more dinosaurs (Galimimus). This was followed by heading into the remote western area of the Aimag to a stunning and extensive sandstone canyon called Khermen Tsav where we experienced 50 degree heat and later an epic sandstorm! We were also taken to a wonderful oasis where we soaked our feet in the cool(ish) waters! Our third night camping was spent next to a spring, pitched on fresh springy grass (yes in the desert) and spending the evening listening to our Mongolian party singing old nomadic songs. It was both moving and enchanting and sadly, I was forced to take one for the team (and sing a song or two as well!) settling with the Welsh National Anthem (don’t laugh!) and Annie’s Song. Luckily there was vodka involved and it was dark! All in all, a memorable experience. As well as all the scenery and fossil sights, we were also treated to personal experiences with several nomadic families, the first being the family who rented us the camels at Khongoryn Els. They invited us inside their wonderfully decorated Ger and offered us tea (hot camel milk), homemade curd and fermented mares milk to try. Similarly, we were also taken to visit Boggy’s sister’s family (one of our drivers). On two occasions, they invited us in, first for a wonderful lunch, and on our return visit for sheep/goat testicles! We were beckoned over to watch some of the goats (and one sheep) being castrated… It sounds awful, but it happens so quickly. It was mesmerising to watch and there was no blood, so even little Annabelle experienced it without flinching. For Ed however (being a man) he was taken away into another Ger with the boys to eat a raw testicle which involved gnawing at the end for a minute or two (to get access to the contents) and squeezing out the insides into your mouth. Ming….. The rest of us had ours boiled with barley. It was surprisingly soft and when you cut into it, had the texture of pate. It tasted like the dark meat on a chicken leg, so actually wasn’t too bad (oh and Ed had to eat that too!). Our final night in the Gobi was spent revisiting the Ger camp at Kongoryn Els, before heading east the following day to the airport via a beautiful volcanic gorge and an invitation to Boggy’s (one of our drivers) own house for dumplings. We truly had a marvellous time and having Nara (our translator) allowed us to learn so much about Mongolia and its people. Thank you so much Nara if you are reading this. You are a special lady and without you, the trip would not have been such a glorious success. On 17th July (Thursday) we were back in UB and did a little shopping (accompanied by Nara and her lovely daughter) before returning to the truck. It was fantastic to see it, sitting there. Nothing bad had befallen it and we were so pleased to be re-united with our home and friend. We also managed to extend our visa another 30 days (with the help of Nara). We love Mongolia….. It really is a special place. It feels very safe, it is beautiful, exciting and the local people really are truly amazing. Just leaving UB everyone waved at us, and not far from the city we have been visited by local nomads with gifts of milk and pancakes! The remoteness and general lack of roads makes you absorb every inch of the landscape and there really is SO MUCH to see and do here. Six months wouldn’t be enough time. The plan for the remainder of our Mongolian adventure was to head west to Bayanhongor Aimag and that is where we have been for the last few weeks. This section of the Blog is slightly out of date now. As I write this we are in Siberia. We crossed the border back into Russia on 11th August. Unfortunately I have lost my mobile and Ed's phone hasn't been working either. We are currently in the t own of Chita (in a hotel) and we hope to buy a new dongle tomorrow as that's not working either! I'll update the last 3 weeks of Mongolia once we get the dongle! We are missing everyone at home and hope to skype soon. Lots of Love. Ros & Ed. xxxx Weeks 9, 10 & 11: Beautiful Kyrgyzstan & Return to Kazakhstan & Russia– 3rd to 24th June 20146/24/2014 Salam! Over the past three weeks we have been travelling around Kyrgyzstan and crossed the border into Kazakhstan on Saturday 14th June and into Russia on Friday 20th June. Kyrgyzstan is a remarkable and beautiful country and truly has to be seen to be believed, with almost every type of landscape you could imagine, (except for sand dunes and desert). There are gorges with gushing rivers, sandstone canyons and flat humid pastures full of rice paddies. We have also seen stunning alpine scenery with wild flower meadows and glittering blue lakes, ancient walnut forests with pretty waterfalls, and the second largest alpine lake in the world (Issyk-kul). Kyrgyzstan could possibly be one of the most varied and beautiful countries we have ever seen, and perhaps in 20 years time, it will be one of the most popular active holiday destinations in the world. All we know is that we want to come back to this country one day. Albeit police corruption is rife. So, what have we been up to? We were in Osh nearly three weeks ago now and we enjoyed the Kyrgyz Capital of the south immensely, albeit a fellow Brit (James) we later heard, had some serious issues, being nearly mugged by the police! James and a friend had withdrawn dollars from a cash machine and then two police officers tried to bundle them into their car and demand the dollars from them. Luckily, we didn’t have any trouble there but it worried us a little to read his blog (121degrees.co.uk). Best of luck traversing China James. We are thinking of you! :p In Osh, the air was muggy and warm and had a sub-tropical feel that Ed thought akin perhaps to India. In the distance, the snow-capped peaks of China (Tian Chen) provided a wonderful backdrop for a leafy green city, with tree-lined avenues and bizarre sandstone rock features thrown into the mix. It couldn’t have been more different to Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. From Osh, we travelled north and then west, alongside the border with Uzbekistan’s Fergana valley. The scenery remained pleasant with rolling hills and cultivated fields. Occasionally we would pass slightly elevated areas of golden and grey-green sandstone mountains covered in spring shrubs, and we also passed a beautiful blue lake (where the locals were swimming and fishing) before driving further west into Jalalabad Province. One of the places we wanted to visit was a small rural village called Arslanbob, which contained three ancient walnut forests, stunning craggy mountain scenery and a couple of lovely waterfalls. We arrived on the outskirts of the village on Wednesday 4th June and bumped into a group of Dragoman tourists outside their homestay. They were a varied bunch of Brits, Dutch, American and Austrian, mostly travelling as individuals in a heowge orange Mercedes Truck and they invited us into the homestay for a beer and a chat. The two Dragoman drivers (Ricky and Emma) were legends and we ended up parking our truck next to theirs and spending the night there, sharing dinner with the Dragomans. It was great fun hearing about their stories so far. They were touring the Silk Road from Istanbul to Beijing and told us more amusing stories about Turkmenistan that corroborated other news we had heard of the country…. Lol. That night I had an awful fever, and so missed breakfast with the Dragomans. Ed joined them and made excuses for me. I think the (what I call vodka incident) of the previous week had weakened my immune system and I ended up with the worst sinus-cold of my life (still snivelling and coughing two weeks later). Subsequently, the next morning (me pale-faced) we walked a couple of miles up into Arslanbob and enjoyed the small Bazaar and then the pretty waterfall above the village. Randomly it turned out to be a ‘touristy’ spot with stalls all the way up to the waterfall selling yoghurt balls, ice-cream, raspberry sheets and horrendous Chinese plastic stuff that is too horrid to mention. Two ice-creams and a can of coke-cola helped me make it up the hill! The waterfall was very pretty and the view down into the valley below us was definitely worth the climb. On the way back to the truck, we purchased some beef from the local butcher (the first proper meat we had had for weeks) and then drove south from Arslanbob on route to our next destination (a Bio-Reserve with a beautiful lake, called Sary-Chelek). We didn’t really know where we were going, but the road to Sary Chelek was as dramatic as it was beautiful. We initially passed through some former coal mining towns, which included huge concrete Soviet block style flats which were a bit grim, before rising into desert-like sandstone mountains. Sometimes the sandstone would turn white and calcareous, forming wonderful knobbly features (including one such structure that looked like a male appendage). That night we parked up near the sandstone features in a peculiar valley covered in leafy plants, huge yellow flowering plants and wild herbs. It looked like a miniature jungle, or something from the land that time forgot. On Friday 6th June we arrived at the gates to the Bio-Reserve at Sary-Chelek. That morning we had driven through a wonderful collection of valleys following a gushing blue river in the direction of the National Park. Ed paid the equivalent of about £12 for us and the truck to enter the reserve and stay there for two nights. Upon entering the gates, we passed into a glorious green verdant valley of walnut trees, ash, pistachio and long grass full of wild flowers. It took us quick by surprise. The path wound up and up following a beautiful blue stream and we marvelled at the views and the beauty of the place. We saw pink pom pom alliums everywhere, bright wild yellow fennel, dark cerise orchids, and beautiful dainty pink geraniums. I also spotted some dianthus and wild geums (almost identical to the ones we left in our cottage garden at lower deans). It was delightful. Eventually we rose to the top of the valley, just over 1700mASL and we parked alongside a small blue lake. Unfortunately, the rapid rise in altitude provoked my sinus cold, and I had to lie down (pathetically) for an hour or so, nursing a horrendous migraine… Not ideal. Later on in the day, I felt much better and so we went for a walk (in a cloud of mosquitos) around the small, stunning turquoise blue lake we had parked alongside and really had a chance to soak up the views, scents of the flowers, and for Ed, to spot fish in the lake. The following morning it rained, so we hid in the truck a little while relaxing, before setting off on foot further up the valley to the largest lake; Sary Chelek. The sun came out to greet us and it wasn’t long before we were alongside the magnificent turquoise blue lake we had read about in our Bradt Guide. It made us chuckle a bit, because we had seen a lot of locals driving past all evening the previous day and all morning. It seems that Sary-Chelek is a local tourist hotspot. They come here to enjoy the lake (swim in it) and have BBQs and vodka with the family. It was lovely and made us even more relaxed whilst we watched the locals having fun too. We followed a track alongside the lake which was just about wide enough for two feet. It was a steep climb through wonderful tall grass and more pink and yellow wild flowers with butterflies dancing around everywhere like leaves in the wind. We found a nice big rock to sit on and admired the wonderful view of the lake beneath us. Steep green carpeted mountains rose from every corner of the lake with the exception of a small forested area where the locals were jumping in the cool blue waters. The area was a designated Bio-Reserve to protect endangered species such as the infamous snow leopard, lynx and ibex. I got the binoculars out of my bag and raised my eyes to the peaks in the hope of spotting something. No such luck. Even in the warm sunshine, there was still ice at the very tops of the triangular mountains. After enjoying the lake, we followed the track back to the truck and beyond, walking down the path we had driven up the previous morning. Black thunder clouds rolled in behind us, but the air was mild. We didn’t mind a spot of rain and instead sat at a view point looking down at the green valley below us. On the ascent back to the truck we passed a mini-bus which had spilled its human contents on the side of the road! They were a lovely Kyrgyz family enjoying the scenery as well. It was hilarious, because within minutes, they had beckoned us over, whipped out vodka (which they insisted on us drinking) and soon they were piling Ed’s arms with bread, home-made dough-balls and green peppers. What made me giggle the most was that when Ed’s hands were no longer free (piled with food), the father of the group slipped a half drunk bottle of vodka into Ed’s pocket so he couldn’t refuse. It was hilarious! We chatted for a while and told them how much we loved Kyrgyzstan and the people were so kind. The whole family were tipsy and the replies were ‘yes, Kyrgyzstan is the friendliest country and we don’t care about the Government, we just want to have fun!’ It was an interesting comment – and they were definitely having fun. They all piled back in the mini-bus. It turned out one of the family had dropped his camera further up the mountain and when he returned (camera in hand) they set off again down the hill. We waved them off cheerily, again our hearts warmed by the generosity of strangers (and by the shot of vodka they had made us knock back!). Hehe. We spent a second night parked alongside the small lake, before descending the mountain the following morning and re-tracing the charismatic scenery on route back to the main road. Once we had made it back to civilisation, we pulled over for lunch and (luckily had a full mobile signal) and so managed to Skype the Crocker House. Joanne and Ed were home, and the entire thing (with a 3 second delay) was hilarious and it was nice to see everyone’s faces, albeit very blurry ones. Later that afternoon (Sunday 8th June 2014) we drove a most wonderful road following the turquoise Naryn River north through a stunning rocky gorge. The tight meandering hairpins and perfect tarmac would have to make it a road worth visiting by the likes of Top Gear or James Bond (we mused). Eventually we dropped down from the highest point of the gorge to the Toktogul Reservoir, a massive blue expanse of water that looked like a sea. Moody black, blue and purple clouds rolled above the mountains over the reservoir as we descended down to it. This coincided with a wonderful sunset of golden yellows and the scene was majestically atmospheric…. Very, very memorable. We stared in awe of the colours. I have never seen so many shades of blue in the sky, the water and the mountains. Just as the rain started spattering on the roof of the truck, Ed spotted an off road track that would conceal us from the road, but give us an amazing view of the reservoir, and so we managed another fantastic camp spot. The following morning, we were also lucky enough to the see the reservoir in the sunshine before heading further north through more of the wondrous scenery Kyrgyzstan had to offer. Within the space of one day, we passed though lowland rocky grasslands, another stunning grey rocky gorge with a beautiful gushing river alongside, the highest pass in Kyrgyzstan (>3600mASL) and suddenly we arrived on an alpine grass plateau filled to the brim with yurts and beautiful horses, grazing wild with their young flighty foals. Cows, sheep and goats also ran wild (including onto the road ahead of us!). It was a mesmerising scene with wild pink and yellow alpine flowers carpeting the plateau and a beautiful silver ribbon of a stream glimmering in the centre of it all. Ed was convinced there were trout in it. We must have come at the perfect time, as we were witnessing new families assembling their yurts, the high plateau being their summer grazing pastures. Locals sold milk and dried yoghurt balls alongside the road and every now and then there was a small BBQ cooking shashlik. There was a relaxed party-like atmosphere in the air as it seemed the local Kyrgyz were welcoming the summer sun and the bright green grass with open arms. Beautiful. After around an hour or so of enjoying the plateau, the road diverged, and we took a dirt track to the east, waving goodbye to the near-perfect tarmac road which continued north to Bishkek (Capital of Kyrgyzstan). The sun was fading and we managed to find a very lovely night-spot by a gentle bubbling stream, hiding just off the road in the trees and bushes. The following morning (Tuesday 10th June), Ed got his pump out and filled the water tank with the fresh mountain water from the stream and then we set off in the direction of Lake Issykul. Another long day of driving ahead of us, we passed through more wonderful scenery which included a red sandstone gorge and another beautiful river. Pretty leafy Kyrgyz villages and more rolling wild meadow pastures passed us by, always with stunning mountains in the distance, which in their twisted awesomeness, somehow they managed to look more like they belonged in an oil painting rather than actual reality. At the end of a very long day, with the sun beating down, we arrived at a small bustling village called Korchor in the evening sunlight. Fresh bread was being cooked in huge Tandoor ovens and fruit and veg stalls lined the road in an exciting bazaar. We were running low on fresh food including bread, veg and eggs, so we decided to pull over and get stuck in. After frequenting nearly all the stalls and some small shops, we returned to the truck to find a yellow van parked tightly alongside the truck, with a young lad hunched underneath the winch-plate. He was very cheekily eyeing up a huge metal shackle that Ed had used to connect the winch hook to the truck. Even as we approached the truck from the opposite side, the lad didn’t flinch. Ed wanted to walk up to him and shout ‘Oi’ as loudly as humanly possible, leading the lad to likely bang his head under the truck. Ed however, did not shout, but approached him quietly. The lad must have seen the shadow of his legs, and he jumped out of his skin and then scurried off, as did the yellow van alongside us. Cheeky buggers. After that, we thought best to drive on that evening and after a further 40km we reached the western (and very salty) edge of Lake Issykul. We spotted a dirt-track that took us almost down to the salt encrusted shore-line and we managed to find a couple of trees to hide behind and provide must needed cover, and shade. Lake Isskykul is the second largest alpine lake in the world at over 1700mASL with its blue depths reached more than 400m deep. It is partially saline and geothermally heated, and although winter temperatures in Kyrgyzstan plummet well into minus figures in winter, the lake never freezes. The following morning we explored the western salty end on foot, spotting curious red plants poking through the salt encrusted sand. They looked like the top of a ‘reed’, but they were red…. Very strange (see photos). Returning to the truck we continued back to the main road and then travelled due east along the banks of the lake. The lakes northern shore was lined with beautiful snow-capped mountains and the shore-line opposite us (the southern shore) soon began to reveal stunning red sandy beaches with a back drop of young leafy trees (possibly poplars). At times the scenery looked like Greece (my favourite Island; Skiathos). It was tranquil and truly stunning. The sun shone warmly and after passing several stunning ‘beachy’ spots, we finally decided to get the truck down to the beach. We found a small little cove of our own, got the towels, sun-cream and ice cold cola out of the fridge and then did something we never expected to do on this trip in these land-locked countries…. We lazed on the beach. Lush. We also dipped our tootsey toes into what I can only describe as the ‘fluffy’ waters of the lake. The temperature was cool but not bitter by any means, and within seconds our skin was used to the water. In hindsight, we should have got our swims stuff on, but we just lazed on the beach instead enjoying the slopping sound of the waves on the shore (the only true give away that we weren’t by the sea). Behind us, pretty gnarled red sandstone formations and miniature gorges added further drama and majesty to the lake-side scenery. If Kyrgyzstan was selling land, we were musing about a wooden shack on our very own stretch of beach. Lol! They do flights straight to the Capital (Bishkek) from London by the way! That evening, we drove further alongside the lake and up into a valley (Jeti Oguz) which housed the most dramatic red sandstone rock formations of the region. These comprised a series of seven large square-shape pinnacles of sandstone which were a dark red ochre and weathered into wonderful horizontal striations, making them look textured and even more dramatic. We spent the night over-looking the rocks in the car park of a ‘Sanatorium’ built just beneath the formations (during Soviet times) and to our surprise, providing a Butlins-like holiday resort for the locals (minus the entertainment). A beautiful call to prayer (while we tucked into Ed’s yummy potatoe curry) reminded us that we were still in a Muslim country, as did some of the holiday makers walking around in traditional dress. There were an equal amount of western dressed locals as well however. Every seemed relaxed and happy to be on their holidays. We met one such lady the following morning as we were exiting the Sanatorium gates to get a closer look at the sandstone formations. Her name was Gulnara and she stopped us at the gate with a kind hello, asking where we were from. We still obviously stood out like sore thumbs even in a Kyrgyz touristy spot. We chatted for a little while and then she introduced her family to us and insisted we join her for tea. As we were all packed ready for a hike in the hills (into the Valley of the Flowers), we explained to her where our truck was parked and that we would return later in the evening, and is possible try and catch up with her. It was another blue sky, warm sunny day as we ascended into the Valley of the Flowers. The guide book promised wild tulips, poppies and even mushrooms, but (not disappointed) we spotted pretty pale yellow clematis, wild geraniums and dainty cerise pink flowers that we couldn’t name. The path followed the twists and turns of a shining aquamarine gushing stream, with sturdy thick wooden bridges occasionally crossing over it flanked by steep sided green clad grey rocky walls covered in spruce trees (growing at impossible angles). After a couple of miles, the valley opened up into wonderful grass pasture dotted with yurts and beautiful glossy horses with their sweet wobbly foals grazing wild and enjoying the cool waters of the stream. Golden rocks littered the landscape making a picturesque alpine scene (except it was hot, hot, hot in the sun). (Doc Ems, you would absolutely love Kyrgyzstan. There are horses everywhere grazing freely and they are so, so beautiful!). We found a quiet lunch spot along an adjacent tributary of the stream before descending back down the valley towards the truck. On route down the valley, a large MAN overlander was tackling one of the sturdy wooden bridges and driving towards us. It was the Dutch contingent we had met weeks back in Kazakhstan the morning of our Kazakh-Uzbek crossing; Jeroen, Virginia and Angelien. Sadly Jeroen’s wife had been taken ill with thrombosis and had to return to Holland for treatment. We said a quick hello (Jeroen didn’t initially recognise Ed due to his ‘now’ wild bushy beard) and promised to drive the truck up the valley so we could catch up properly later in the evening. We continued to the truck and had a nice cup of tea and some biscuits, leaving the back door open just incase Gulnara came by. An hour later, we thought it best to continue up the mountain to meet the Dutch, and just as we were about to drive away, Gulnara and her family appeared around the corner making a beeline straight for us. Soon we had been invited into the old Soviet hotel block of the Sanatorium, which looked much nicer inside than out. A table set for tea awaited us, with home-made cakes, biscuits, cold meats, traditional Kyrgyz dough balls. It was lovely actually. Gulnara’s daughter made us tea, and her mother sat at the table, so there were three generations of the family, all eager to talk to us, including Gulnara’s nephew. Gulnara’s English was fantastic, which she had learned from having American neighbours (now returned back to the states). She wanted to hear about our families, the UK and our trip and we all chatted away merrily for over an hour. We then wished Gulnara and her family goodbye leaving her our details and inviting her to stay with us if she was ever in the UK. It was a lovely experience and we won’t forget it. Late in the evening, we then set off up the dirt track back into the Valley of the Flowers and found the two Dutch vehicles at the top amidst the lush grass, horses and yurts. Soon we had been invited into Jeroen’s MAN truck and we were being treated to Jeroen’s edited videos of the Mangistau region of Kazakhstan and their adventures in Tajikistan. We also shared our pictures of the Pamir, which Jeroen had missed due to the violence in Khorog. The following morning (Friday 13th June) we waved goodbye to the Dutch and headed into Karakol for supplies which included a roast chicken! (I was so excited), before bumping into the Dutch again. Jeroen kindly offered us his Garmin GPS software, so we jumped at the chance to download and subsequently spent the remainder of the afternoon doing just that, parked in the Karakol Valley. A Russian couple also came to join us and we shared beer and food (the Russians brought dried fish and dried fish eggs in strips which I had never tried before. They were very salty! On Saturday 14th June we had to make our way to the Kyrgyz-Kazakh border passed an annoying checkpoint where the border guard took Ed into a back office and cornered him for a bribe. Ed however, bravely shrugged his shoulders and sauntered off snatching back our paperwork in disgust (I blame the beard)…. See pictures. About 2km before the border, we bumped into a couple who had hitch-hiked to Almaty and were now cycling through Kyrgyzstan! Their names were Wesley and Aurelie (English and French) and they were so sweet and lovely, we jumped out of the truck to chat to them. Ed filled their water bottles, bestowed them with our left over Kyrgyz Som and gave them a bungee cord to help fix their bags to their bikes which they had purchased in Almaty. They had decided against hitch-hiking in the Stans and we completely understood, because locals would expect money for hitch-hiking. If you are a tourist (especially) you will be expected to pay for the ride. Subsequently the couple had purchased bikes and fair play to them! As we swapped details, Wesley told us that they had bought a house with land in Bulgaria and he gave us the address and insisted we go and stay there, even though Aurelie and himself were travelling for nearly two years and would not be home. When they finally did get home, they wanted to try and be self-sufficient as much as possible. We thought they were a remarkable couple and we definitely would like to visit their small holding in Bulgaria on our return journey home! Ed and I mused; maybe we would buy a house and land there too and become Wesley and Aurelie’s neighbours! The dream of a beautiful home with land is still a reality in Bulgaria as they had purchased theirs for only £6K. Ed and I found them inspirational and definitely had lots to think about after meeting them. The border crossing was very easy and took just under 2hrs. As usual the truck was a hit with the border guards and they all wanted to get in (the cab and the back) to look at it. On the Kazakh side, one particular border guard insisted that his friends take photo’s of him as he posed in front of the truck (much to mine and Ed’s amusement). We then followed him into his office and he pointed to a brand new Toyota Land Cruiser which was parked out of the window, insisting he had paid $40,000 for it. He then began to coax Ed to swap it for the truck as he liked it so much! It was hilarious really and he wouldn’t back down until Ed made a joke saying ‘it’s a great vehicle but how will my girlfriend wash her hair?!’ Hehe. And then we were in Kazakhstan again. We spent 6 days driving north-east through the country to the Russian border, which we crossed on Friday 20th June (before my Kazakh visa expired on 22nd June). Our previous visit to Kazakhstan surprised me, challenging my pre-conceived ides of this remarkable country and our second visit was no different. On our first afternoon we followed the Charyn River, a beautiful silver ribbon flowing from the Tian Chen mountains beyond the Chinese border into a beautiful valley of long grassy undulating wild meadows. Ed thought it one of the most beautiful off-road drives so far and (albeit we didn’t go down it) we spotted the steepest off-road track we have ever seen in our lives. It was possibly more than 60 degrees and dropped steeply down to a small farmstead. We spent that night in a pretty flower meadow tucked away from the road enjoying the sunset over the green rolling hills. Delightful. The following day (Sunday 15th June) we enjoyed the Charyn Canyon and the ‘Valley of the Castles’ which comprised a stunning red sandstone gorge with a footpath down the middle and striated pinnacles of rock balanced in awesome shapes and positions either-side. The walls of the canyon were about 20m high and we walked the few miles down into the charismatic valley towards the Charyn River and sat along its pebbly banks for a few hours dipping our feet in the cool water. It was a hot day. Unfortunately we had to share the canyon and river bank with many other tourists, but it was still wonderful. On returning to the truck (which un-sensibly we had parked at the top of the canyon on a precipice) an almighty wind had built up and Ed was truly worried that the truck was going to be blown over. It was quick scary walking up to the vehicle actually. It was rocking horribly in the wind, so we quickly climbed in and very carefully Ed drove us to a place of safety! It was hair-raising for about 5 minutes and we wondered if the locals had been thinking ‘what a silly place to park’. We got some fantastic photos of the truck over-looking the canyon though! ;p That evening we went off-road again down a track from the north side of the Charyn Nature Reserve, and we think it was probably a dis-used track. Likely others had been put off by the huge ‘STOP’ sign as we drove onto the track, which naughtily we ignored…. We ended up in craggy dark red rocky hills covered in grey-green worm wood shrubs and we caught several glimpses of the gouge in the red earth below that was the Charyn Canyon, lined with leafy green vegetation. That night we slept in a spooky spot in the middle of nowhere in our very own mini red rocky valley as the wind and rain came in. There wasn’t a soul for miles and miles. The following morning (Monday 16th June) we returned to the main road (after spotting some old military bunkers alongside the steep banks of the Charyn) and then it clicked why the road was dis-used. Luckily the military bunker was dis-used as well…. The remainder of the day comprised a wonderful pretty drive through a variety of landscapes from sandy desert-steppe, to craggy rocky valleys, French-like arable land lined with mature trees and wonderful rolling wild flower meadows. The sun shone brilliantly and our hearts felt light and happy. That evening we parked alongside a lush beautiful stream surrounded by knee high grass, wild orchids and dancing with butterflies and dragonflies. It was divine and so un-like anything we were expecting to see in Kazakhstan. On Tuesday 17th June we continued north. Generally the roads had been very good until beyond Taldy Korgan where we stopped to register ourselves at a hotel that morning (tourists have to do this every 5 days). Prior to Taldy-Korgan we had attempted to off-road to some Petroglyphs (Eshkiholmes; as mentioned in our Bradt Guide) but sadly the bridge over the river (as described in the guide) was blocked by a huge blue gate, so mental note to inform Bradt (the Kazakh Guide is out of date, now published some 5 years ago). Disappointed, we continued north on terribly pot holed roads alongside more arable land lined with wild flowers, alternating with desert-steppe. At times the landscape was so flat, there was no horizon. For the most part however, mountains remained to the east, and when we finally parked up for the night alongside a most beautiful stream, the snow on the Tian Shen peaks shone pink in a wonderful sunset. It was a special spot and we got our deck chairs out and really soaked up the view and the atmosphere that evening. Ed had practically parked in the river, and the following morning he rose early and collected up his fishing gear. I watched him (at 6am) through the window casting joyously into the water. He was very happy and it was heart warming to watch. Unfortunately there weren’t fishes biting, although a gull had been swooping around and it had managed to catch a few tiddlers. We spent the entire morning (Wednesday 18th June) enjoying the river and the views, breakfasting in the sun and catching up with washing. It was lovely. We managed to put a good few hours of driving in later in the day and found a parking spot for the night (off road again) in a hollow of desert-steppe overlooked by a red craggy outcrop of weathered rock. The road had been exhausting and the Kazakh heat made it all the more uncomfortable. We mused that the road builder should be condemned. The tarmac at times looked good, but every few metres a ridge would appear in it and our bums would leave our seats. Also it was riddled with potholes. We must have been averaging 30mph since Taldy-Korgan. It was tiresome. On Thursday 19th June we pressed on towards Semipalatinsk (renamed ‘Semey’ in Kazakh and the Russian border. The roads remained awful until we reached a cross-roads near where we diverted north-west to Semey. From this point onwards the tarmac was as fresh as a daisy and we made good progress, eventually camping out in the desert-steppe some 30km south of Semey. The Bradt guide had informed us that Semipalantisnsk was associated with forty years of Nuclear testing completed by the Soviets from 1949. An area known as the ‘Polygon, located some 150km south-west of Semey is where more than 400 nuclear tests were carried out, with an additional 300+ in underground tunnels. They even used a nuclear weapon in an attempt to dam part of the River Chargan. The resultant crater in-filled with water and is now known as the atomic lake. Ed and I desperately wanted to visit it, but looking on the maps, it was within the ‘Polygon’ – The Restricted Area, so we thought best to leave it be, albeit a minor road did traverse the south-eastern side of the area on our maps….. On Friday 20th June we woke to more sunshine and soon arrived at Semey, hoping to stop and explore the town. It turned out however to be a very large place, bustling with traffic and we spotted very few places we would be happy parking the truck. Consequently we continued to the Russian border one day early. Our final 80km through Kazakhstan comprised spruce and ash forest lining the road which didn’t make any sense after the desert-steppe we had witnessed only one hour previously. We stopped for a rest and then arrived at the border around 2pm. It took around 3 hours to cross and this was mainly because it was a very busy border and we had to queue. Also the Kazakh border guards detained us for about 15 minutes because they had miss-read our visas and thought we only had a 5 day transit visa, confusing themselves (and us) with the migration card we carried from entering Kazakhstan, which stated that we had to register (as tourists) every 5 days…. Nothing to do with our visas…. We were a bit worried at first as we thought there was something wrong with our registration documents that we had obtained in Taldy-Korgan, but eventually it clicked for them (and us) that they hadn’t read the dates on our visas properly which stated we had a double entry and 60 days. They finally realised it was they’re mistake and without acknowledging it, or even indicating that we could proceed, they both literally ran away from us….. Ed shouted goodbye to them (slightly sarcastically) and then we made a sharp exit as well. Before the detainment, they had already stamped our passports anyway, so if Ed and I wanted to, we could have made a run for it! lol. Luckily we didn’t have too (mental note to learn Russian if we ever come to these countries again….. ). The Russian border guards were much more professional and faster and once again we found ourselves in Mother Russia. It was a glorious evening and the scenery changed to arable rolling fields lined with trees as soon as we crossed the border. It was bizarre after the desolate desert-steppe we had not long departed, and it made us wonder how clever the Russians were if they had knowingly chosen the magical line where desert-steppe became rich agricultural land. We enjoyed watching the long grasses and wild flowers bobbing in the mild breeze and every time we passed a river or lake (and they were plentiful too) the banks were covered in Russians tanning themselves and swimming in the cool waters. It was Friday night and the locals definitely knew how to enjoy themselves. We didn’t blame them one bit, and it made us look back on the Stans. No one there had time to kick back and enjoy the weekend. We were even more cheered when we happened upon our first big supermarket in nigh on two months! I was so excited, we jumped out of the truck and grabbed a trolly, filling it with ‘EVERYTHING’ including lots of meat, wine and cold fruit yoghurts. Both of us had been craving a healthy dose of meat, as the past few weeks we have mainly been living off potatoes, eggs and pasta. We have made amazing meals with these stable ingredients however. Gwen would be proud of our omelettes and some of our potatoe curries have literally been ‘immense’ (in the words of Nessa). That evening we found our own special spot alongside a stunningly beautiful river and parked the truck in a hollow situated within a pretty meander. The banks of the river were covered in lush grass, wild flowers, blue and white butterflies, turquoise damsel flies and some of the biggest dragon flies Ed and I had ever seen! Also as the sun faded, we were even luckier to see a small otter-like mammal swimming back and fore the river right in front of us carrying reeds. Ed thought perhaps it was ‘ratty’ a water vole, but it looked too big. Ed also thought it too small to be an otter or mink, so we are not entirely sure what it was, but it was delightful to watch. The following morning we got the deck chairs out and lazed by the river in the sun (after filling our bellies with a fry up now that we had some proper sausages!). We had also purchased Heinz Beans, but the label was in Cyrillic which amused us greatly. Earlier in the morning however, a local farmer had actually come to cut the long grass for hay. Firstly Ed asked him if it was ok for us to be in his hay field by the river and he nodded kindly, and (in Russian) Ed thinks he said ‘you are welcome’. Which was lovely. Secondly, a few minutes later a big red tractor appeared to cut the hay and within five minutes it had broken down! Subsequently we were left to enjoy the pretty flowers and butterflies before all was chopped down. The farmer later returned around 2.30pm and by then Ed had managed to sunburn his chest and the pair of us were in very relaxed happy moods and ready to push on. We drove a few hours through more rolling hills and arable fields akin to Wiltshire (near Stone Henge) and in some places even Kent. It was a revelation to see such a tiny corner of Russia, which is deemed in the minds of many to be a stark place; and cold. This area of Russia was none of these things. It was hitting around 35 degrees in the heat of the day and Ed and I were roasting. On Saturday evening (21st June) we found another fantastic camp spot at the corner of another hay field, but this time it contained mature trees, Again we parked in a hollow of the field, out of site of the road and shielded by some mature ash trees. Again as dusk approached, we heard squarking noises out of the window. Gazing out, we were treated to the sight of an owl hunting stealthily just out of our window and the squarking noise was her chicks from a tree not 10 metres from where we were parked. We watched in silence until the sun went down enjoying the spectacle. On Sunday 22nd June we arrived at Barnaul, a large Russian town where we were able to buy a dongle for more internet access (if we had a good signal). It was another very hot day and we wandered (very relaxed) about the town in the sunshine. I was especially happy as I could don some shorts and a T-shirt now that we had exited the Stans. Barnaul was pleasant and had a town square which included a large fountain, filling a shallow rectangular area with water. Amusingly the locals and their children were cooling off in the fountain and treating it like the local Lido! We joined in too and sat on the wall of the structure, dipping our feet into the water. It was lovely. We also found another supermarket and bought more food, aware that we needed to stock up before entering Mongolia on 25th June. That afternoon we drove south-east from Barnaul and spotted more and more locals sunbathing and swimming in the river which flowed south from Barnaul. It was lovely to see everyone enjoying themselves, relaxed and happy, and we couldn’t help feeling the same way too. Before Barnaul the scenery comprised more arable rolling fields and meadows, and we also spotted large allotment-like areas, filled to the brim with very quaint and beautiful ‘small’ houses. They were two stories and generally about the size of a large garden shed. Ed thought they were summer houses for the locals. It all reminded us of the ‘Good Life’ again. Everyone was tending to their vegetables and it was all so pristine and well cared for. The Russians in these towns were obviously a proud and hardworking bunch. On Sunday night we settled in a spot within a spruce wood during a muggy lightening storm. We had struggled to find anywhere suitable as every inch of the land either side of the road comprised private farmland. Eventually we happened upon a track and it wound into the woodland. There were bright orange flowers dotted about and (sadly) mosquitos in their hundreds, so we jumped in the truck sharpish and only a couple of the beasties got in. We woke to more sunshine and continued our journey south-east, now in the Altai region of Russia. We were informed that Vladimir Putin has a summer villa in this region, so we kept our eyes peeled for it! Very soon the rolling hills of the past previous days were replaced by mountains. We passed dense spruce forests, and craggy granite hills. At one point the road unexpectedly rose sharply to over 1600mASL, which amused us greatly considering only the previous morning (at Barnaul) we had been at 99mASL… one of our lowest elevations on the trip. By late afternoon the Altai mountains began to rise in the distance and the sloping green fields either side of the road were filled with beautiful orange flowers in their thousands. These were accompanied by bright pink wild peonies and an array of purple and blue flowers including grandmothers bonnet. We drank in the colours. They were glorious and they seemed to go on and on either side of the road. That evening we found a spot next to another stream after driving through a dramatic granite gorge. Amusingly, as well as grazed grass underfoot, the truck was also parked in a patch of Marijuama growing wild! It’s not the first time we have spotted a load either. It is now Wednesday 24th June and our Mongolian visa begins tomorrow so we intend to be at the border early in the morning. We can’t quick believe that the truck has made it this far and we are so pleased to be here. It truly has been a remarkable experience so far. We have had some hairy moments, but for the most part we have been enjoying ourselves and taking each day more and more in our stride. Ed has dreamed of Mongolia for so long, and I am so very happy to be the person who will be sharing his first glimpses of it. We are aiming to spend 6 weeks in this special country and we are not entirely sure if we will get any phone or internet access. Hopefully we will! You will know about it if we do. One thing is for sure, Ed is likely to get use of his winch! You should see him by the way. He has the biggest beard growth of his life and he has shaved his hair off…. He looks like a young Walter White from Breaking Bad and even the Russians are frightened of him…. I am thinking of buying him a black hat….. lol. I’ll put a picture of his current growth online. You be the judge! With much love. (Hairy-Ed) and Ros. Ed and the Truck on the Koitezek Pass (4271m ASL) on the Pamir Highway, known as the 'Roof of the World', Tajikistan. Hello! Sorry it has been such a while since we updated the blog. Since Bukhara we have not been able to find WiFi and our phones have had virtually no signal. During our entire time in Tajikistan we didn’t receive one text message! We are now in Kyrgyzstan and have been able to buy an internet dongle, so for the first time, I am writing the blog in the comfort of the truck! It’s been up and down a lot in the last few weeks and the adventure has been a little too adventurous at times... From the 12th to 18th May we enjoyed the sites of Bukhara, Gijduvan (where we purchased some traditional Uzbek Pottery) and Samarkand. The weather stayed hot for our entire duration in Uzbekistan. Bukhara was fantastic and hilariously became a bottle neck for fellow overlanders. We met so many lovely people. In Bukhara, we loved most the 45m Minaret which was built in 1127 and avoided destruction by Genghis Khan because he liked it so much himself. Apparently during his march to Bukhara (early 13th Century), he could see the tower from afar, and thankfully (for us), it still stands today, because it too impressed him so much. It is made out of intricately carved sandstone with very few ceramics. When we were admiring it, lots of local school children linked hands around its base. It took a few of them to match its circumference! From Bukhara, we travelled to Samarkand via Gijduvan. That evening we were embroiled in another black market diesel escapade. Ed paid $100 for 120 litres from some men who had practically forced us into the purchase. It was a good deal and because the diesel was already in canisters in the back of their Russian Lada, Ed agreed reluctantly to buy some. That night we learned the signal for diesel. Its thumb and pinky pointing out, with the waggle of the hand from side to side. After completing the transaction and handing over a crisp $100 note to the annoying diesel pests, they started shouting that they wanted $200! Double the agreed price. Well at that point Ed had already hopped sharpish back into the truck because we had heard a ‘buzz buzz’ of a police car and didn’t want to be caught buying black market diesel from the side of the road. Ed told them where they could shove it and we drove off. It was that night (we think) that our diesel was stolen. All 260 litres (plus) of it. We were oblivious of the theft however, until several days later when we were driving south from Samarkand to the Tajik border near Denau. Samarkand was remarkable, but more modern and much larger than both Khiva and Bukhara. We enjoyed all it had to offer as best we could, as unfortunately for us, our visit coincided with the Uzbek Presidential visit, and the most amazing buildings in the city (the Ragistan) were closed, and on our second day (attempting to see it), all the roads into Samarkand were blocked by police! In the end, we caught several taxi’s (squashed in with the locals) through the winding bumpy streets from the south side of the city. It was a hilarious and exhilarating experience, and although we never managed to see the Ragistan, we still enjoyed the impressive Bazaar and the remaining monuments Samarkand had to offer. The most beautiful of these being the Gur-i Amir, the final resting place of Amir Timur, the man responsible for many of the remarkable structures in and around the city. Inside his Mausoleum, the room containing his tomb was the most beautiful vision my eyes had so far witnessed along the Silk Road. There was a dim light, but the room glowed with a royal blue hue faceted with intricate gold designs. Every inch of the walls and ceiling were decorated and beautiful slabs of pale green onyx lined the lower parts of the walls. It was truly stunning. Ed and I had it all to ourselves. It was breath taking. Because we didn’t make it into the Ragistan, I was more determined than ever to come back again soon with Mam and Dad. Now I knew my way around and had an excuse to return! Later that evening, we drove south out of Samarkand and Ed decided to pull over to transfer some diesel from the large tank to the main tank. It was then we realised that nearly every drop of our diesel had been stolen…. We felt sick. The lock was broken on the main tank and they even stole Ed’s 20 litre metal canisters, one storing our emergency diesel and the other oil…. Our fate now, was to return towards Samarkand and begin the arduous task of finding more black market diesel…. It took 2.5hrs before we were on the road south again…. To top our day off, we found a rural village in the mountains south of Samarkand and Ed pulled over to enquire with some locals (selling rhubarb on the side of the road) whether we could park up for the night outside their house. The husband put his arm around Ed and then showed him his drive around the side of the house which was gated. It was ideal. We were tired and it was time to stop. Unfortunately, they wanted some money (which was acceptable), but the wife asked for 100,000 Som (£20)! Ed scoffed at her. Then the husband asked for $100!... When Ed refused them both, they agreed finally to 10,000 Som and the wife gave Ed the evilest look of death achievable. If it hadn’t been so late in the day we would have carried on looking, but given it was getting dark and we were ascending a hill into the mountains, this was the only even spot we had seen. Because we didn’t feel very welcome, we made sure we got up early the next day to continue our ascent up the mountain. We woke to another glorious day and the views were spectacular. The road looked like something from a James Bond film, except instead of racing around the hair pins in a sports car, we had a cheery birds eye view and our maximum speed was probably about 10 miles per hour! The truck doesn’t have exhaust breaks, so engine breaking (with the gears) is our only way of stopping. It was better for Ed anyway, as he could enjoy the view. Even more spectacular than the craggy rocky edifies covered in spring green was the sight of a peculiar bird flying past the windscreen! It was azure blue with an orange back. Such a colourful, beautiful thing. We checked in the trusty bird book and it is called a ‘Roller’ (we are turning into right twitchers). We thought it was a lucky spot, but as the days rolled on, ‘Rollers’ were as common as magpies in this part of Central Asia. Fantastic. So our penultimate day in Uzbekistan was spent admiring the mountains, which quickly gave way to a flat sandy plateau where men could be spotted in every village making mud bricks out of the clayey sandy soils. Also on that day, we met two Brit Cyclists (Gayle and John), a lovely couple from the Merseyside area of the UK. They had been on the road for two years! And like us, they were heading to Tajikistan and the border town of Denau for the crossing. We made them a cup of Yorkshire tea and they told us all about their cycling adventures. They were in their forties (we are assuming) and they were truly inspirational characters. They knew exactly what made them happy and they were sticking to that thought and continuing to live the life they wanted. It gave us a lot to think about. We bade them farewell and continued through the sandy plateau for the remainder of the day, which eventually became a more undulating landscape culminating in miniature sandy gorges. Wonderful. Some 50km from Denau, we spent the night in our very own mini sandy gorge. The Sandstone cliffs either side were about 10m high, and the miniature valley in between was filled with short hay like grass, poppies and hundreds of beautiful green and yellow grass hoppers. Just as we were about to explore the little valley, a herdsmen on a donkey appeared on the hill above us and he slowly funnelled his flock of sheep and goats towards us. We guessed it was his land. We waited patiently for him to descend and then respectfully Ed approached him and asked if we could spend the night in the valley. He nodded genially and went on his way. I caught his eye and thanked him with the Uzbek gesture of putting your right hand to your heart and then Ed and I settled down for the night. It was a special spot, and the approval of the herdsmen made it more so. The following day (Saturday 17th) we made it to the Uzbek-Tajik border near Denau and had the most irritating crossing so far. On the Uzbek side there was no one. Just us. It still took about 3hrs to get through. The guards were immature and insisted on going through all of our photos and videos on the laptops. They couldn’t care less what was in the truck. They just wanted to be entertained. Even more painful for us, they wanted another $265 for the truck to leave the country. This was on top of the $400 we had paid for it to enter. What a joke. On the Tajik side, it was much faster and friendlier except they wanted $98 from us. Ninety dollars for the truck to enter the country (sigh), three dollars for some ecological tax (?) and a further five dollars for something we didn’t even understand. And then we entered Tajikistan, the country Ed was looking forward to most as it is the land of the Pamir Highway. It was time to test the truck’s metal, and our own bodies at high altitude as we would be scaling to heights of 4665m above sea level. All this was hard to imagine however, after crossing the border. We were transported from desert to a green oasis. Rice paddies lined the road, fields of green wheat and alliums bobbed in the muggy warm air and water was in abundance. Unlike Uzbekistan which was green from irrigation, in Tajikistan the snow-capped mountains in the distance fed a myriad of streams and tributaries from which the verdant landscape drank its fill. It was a sub-tropical paradise and remained so for our first two days in Tajikistan. We spent our first night by a milky green lake, which was in fact a Reservoir (Nurek), off-set by red ochre mountains and fresh spring grass. The following day, we passed rolling flower meadows interspersed with sandy drier sections and constantly goats, sheep, cows and donkeys would fill the road bringing us to a halt. We would watch from the cab as men on horses pushed them along to new pastures and the other locals (in cars around us) would beep their horns impatiently, while Ed and I just loved to watch the hundreds of animals being coerced along. It was fantastic. Even more a delight (for me). We pulled off road down a sandy track looking for a lunch spot and there on the floor was a tortoise! I squealed and jumped out of the truck, picking the poor thing up. Obviously the sudden G-Force of being projected into the air was too much for the little beastie and he kindly did a simultaneous number 1 & 2, just missing my legs and the cab seat by centimetres. I really wanted a photo with him, but as I had scared him so much, I decided to pop him back down. He scurried (quite quickly I thought) under a thistle and sadly for me…. that was that. Later that day we drove through the town on Kulob, before rising again into more mountains. At 1900mASL we found a wonderful spot for the night, off the road and facing the view of the valley from which we had ascended. Again more herdsmen passed us and seemed happy and content for us to be parked up. They smiled and waved and we did the same. It was cold that night and we hadn’t felt cold for a while after the desert sun of Uzbekistan. The following morning (Monday 19th May) we ascended further up the mountain before descending into a world of magnificent red rocks and green spring flowers. It was a fantastic road. It had rained overnight and there had been miniature landslides. We were stopped at one point as a machine was up on high clearing loose rock and stones to prevent a new landslide! We watched in awe as massive boulders were pushed down the cliff, bouncing off the track in front of us before walloping further down into the valley. It was impressive to watch and we laughed at the lack of H&S. hehe The red mountains finally gave way to our first view of Afghanistan and the mighty river Panj. In the drizzle, we looked down in awe at the scale of the valley sides below us. We would spend the next four days and three nights skirting the border of Afghanistan on route to Khorog, the gateway to the Pamir. At first I was daunted. Afghanistan….. As the days went by however, you quickly realised that it was the same as Tajikistan. The road was a giant gorge of grey sheer cliffs with the equally grey Panj gushing below. On our side of the river, was a road, sometimes a single track with ‘just’ enough room alongside a precipice some 10m metres above the river… (on my side of the truck!). On the Afghan side, the same startling cliffs, but no road. A mere track (called an Ovir) followed the river and our road. Sometimes we would spot people walking along it with their donkey’s, and the occasional bicycle. Every 20km or so, the grey sheer rock would open out slightly to reveal a small village clinging to the edge of the precipice. The villages seemed to alternate on the Tajik and Afghan side with the meandering of the river. It was astounding though, because the villages were leafy and green. Mulberry trees and beautifully kept small holdings grew lushly, alongside mud brick buildings and livestock. It was hard to imagine a life along a cliff edge. The locals were truly hemmed in by the sheer cliffs behind them and the mighty Panj opposite. They could only go left or right along the road. Occasionally over those four days along the Panj, the scenery would look stark and oppressive (like the land of Mordor), and then it would change to majestic and other worldly. We were shocked to see pom poms of pink wild alliums growing along small grassy ledges amongst the sheer grey rock. We were also mesmerised by bright yellow spear like flowers which occasionally would fill the rock hewn valley sides where the road widened slightly. The scene looked like something from an alien world and we took lots of photos! Similarly, some of the meanders of the Panj would give way to silvery grey beaches. We walked to one such beach and sat opposite Afghanistan for a while, drinking in the atmosphere of the place. It was brooding, as the weather during our entire four day journey was as grey as the rocks hemming us in. On the beach however, I spotted some dark mahogany red, iron rich rocks where the sun had produced a metallic sheen of colour; blues, greens and purples. Fantastic! I bagged one of them and it is currently sitting in our dirty laundry bag. Hehe. And finally, on Thursday 22nd May we descended into Khorog. Our eyes focused on the road and we thought maybe a landslide had occurred, as the road into the town looked to be full of trees and all sorts. On closer inspection (we got out of the truck for a closer look) we realised it was a blockade. The trees alongside the road had been cut down and pushed onto the tarmac. Dry stone walls had been assembled and there were lumps of metal covered in tarpaulin. There were 5 men in the road guarding the blockade. The atmosphere was casual however. Not threatening. People were standing around talking and very small vehicles were using the pavement to by-pass (undeterred) through the blockade. The truck would never fit. We decided not to linger. Ed turned the truck around and we drove back the way we came. A couple of miles down the road we spotted a guest house (Serena) on the left and in the car park was the Land Rover belonging to Dagmar and Klaus, the wonderful German couple we had shared the Kazakh-Uzbek border crossing with some weeks previous. They had passed us the previous morning on route to Khorog. Obviously they hadn’t made it through either…… We were invited to park the truck next to the Land Rover by the gardener who had spotted us outside, and as Ed was parking up, I hopped out as Klaus appeared at the steps at the front of the guest house. Soon we knew the reason behind the blockade. The previous morning two people had been shot by the police. It was fuelled (apparently) by the brother of a local War Lord being arrested. Government buildings had be burnt down by the locals and subsequently the police had opened fire killing two people. Seven had been injured. The locals had built the blockade to prevent the army marching into the town and killing more people. Apparently a similar incident had occurred two years previous and the blockade had been in place for 7 weeks. It was bad news. Dreams of the Pamir Highway began to drift away. We couldn't really believe it. It was something you never expected to be so close to. We sat in the lounge of the guest house and poured over maps with Dagmar and Klaus thinking of alternative routes. It was more than 5 days back along the Panj to Dushanbe and none of us wanted to entertain the thought of retracing the exhausting road along the Panj. I contacted the British Embassy and soon after, they called Ed’s phone, but didn’t have any information. The UK GOV website had reported the incident of the 21st May and advised everyone to stay in-doors, but we knew more of what was happening than the embassy. Dagmar and Klaus hadn’t even seen the blockade the previous day. They had stopped in the guest house to rest – the same morning as the incident, and some local German charity workers living in Khorog had come to explain to them the news before getting out of town.To put an even more sour note on events, the guest house was charging $125 per night – disgustingly taking advantage of Dagmar and Klaus.The place was empty. The hostess however, gave us tea and told us that the Mayor was coming to the guest house for lunch and for a meeting regarding the blockade. She told us he would talk to us and maybe we would get through. We couldn’t believe it! We thought we would be meeting the Mayor of Khorog and suddenly everything seemed more positive. After waiting for over half an hour, the Mayor never made it to the guest house. Unsurprisingly he couldn’t get through the blockade. It was then, that we decided to drive away from Khorog and stay in convoy with the Dagmar and Klaus that night. On the way back up the road, we enquired with locals about another route to the Pamir Highway, avoiding Khorog. The only other road was through the Bartang valley, and after some enquires, we learned that it was currently impassable. Slightly defeated, we settled at a lovely spot by the Panj overlooking the mountains with the hopes to return to Khorog the next morning to check out the situation. The sun finally came out and we allowed mother nature and the glorious views of the mountains to uplift our depressed moods, as we whiled away the remainder of the day sat in our deck chairs, drinking tea and eating biscuits in the sun with Dagmar and Klaus. We couldn’t think of a nicer couple to go through this experience with. The remaining hours of the day turned into a roller coaster…… The same German charity workers that had given Dagmar and Klaus the news suddenly arrived, along with a British couple, also working in Khorog and for the same charity (Johnny and Beth). They were a fantastic, inspirational bunch of people and we chatted to them for a while, explaining how sad we were about the whole situation. Just before the sun began to set, we waved goodbye to them, pondering our fate for thte next day. Forty five minutes after we had waved goodbye however, Johannes and Johnny appeared again. Johannes was in touch with a local in Khorog and he informed us that the blockade had been temporarily cleared. If we wanted to get through we had to go ‘now’ before the blockade was re-instated. We couldn’t believe it. We packed the truck and anxiously Dagmar and Klaus did the same just as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Anxiously we drove back towards Khorog not entirely sure what awaited us. After ten minutes we had caught up with three Chinese HGVs. They were going like the clappers. Obviously they had heard the news too and were thundering towards Khorog with hopes to make it through the blockade. From that point on, we relaxed. Surely the blockade had gone. At 8.30pm in the dark, we approached the blockade. It had been cleared! Immense relief followed and we couldn’t believe our luck and the small miracle of the local charity workers spotting us eating biscuits by the Panj! As we passed through, I caught the eye of the men clearing the road and nodded to them, thanking them. They smiled and waved back. The blockade was nothing to do with tourists which was reassuring. We passed through town as fast as we could. The truck had never been driven so meanly by Ed. Dagmar and Klaus remained behind us the whole way and we finally found a place to sleep alongside the road some 15km from Khorog. We got out of the vehicles in the pitch black Pamiran night and excitedly laughed and wooped wooped by the side of the road, neither one of us believing our luck. After all the anxious hours wondering what would happen, we had made it finally onto the Pamir Highway. From Friday 23rd May, for an entire week, we transited the infamous road. The landscape grew and grew as the days progressed. Snow-capped peaks (initially in the distance), shrank, until we were at the snow line (around 3500mASL). We saw our first Yaks around this height. They are funny things. They have the square body shape of a rhino, but are shaggy and have the head of a cow. They also run really fast! (every time I tried to take a photo!). As well as Yaks, the Pamir also became known to us as the land of the Marmots. They were everywhere! Such cuties. The Pamir Marmots were much bigger than the ones we had seen in Kazakhstan. They had honey-golden hair and were proper fatties. I would describe them as beaver like, with large flat black tails and they were such characters. When they spotted you, they would freeze in funny positions, and as you drove away they would bounce away to their burrows ‘boing boing boing’. Ed and I couldn’t get enough of them. It seems neither can the locals, as they get through the harsh winter months munching on Marmot…. (sob sob). By our second day in the Pamir, we had climbed to the first high pass, around 4721mASL. There was snow all around and the views were spectacular. Altitude is odd. On route to Khorog and beyond we had climbed steadily. On the first day, both of us became a bit light headed around 3000mASL, so we decided to stop for the night and allow our bodies to adjust. At over 4000mASL your nose is really dry and you can sense the air is thin. Also the sun is so potent. There is not enough atmosphere to shield you from the UV rays, and it feels like the sun is literally penetrating your skin. Subsequently, we covered up and wore hats. The wind however rips right through you. It’s an odd experience. On Saturday 24th May, we went off-road from the Pamir Highway and spent the night by an isolated blue lake, with our own beach and miniature icebergs. It was a lovely spot – but freezing once the sun went down! The following day (still off-road), Ed was in his element. We passed through the village of Bulunkal (the most remote and coldest village in the Pamir) and soaked up the magnificent view of the valley in-which the village was contained. A beautiful lake mirrored colourful melting multi-coloured mountains of red, green, grey and blue hues. The scene literally looked like an oil painting and neither Ed and I had seen anything like it. Alongside the lake was verdant green grass, which was being grazed by hundreds of Yak. From a distance they looked like little black specs. The scale of the landscape would continue to stop us dead in our tracks. Your brain could hardly take it all in. There was so much detail, so much vastness. I can only describe the Pamir as epic. That day, we also happened upon a geyser and more marmots, before spending the night alongside a ‘salt lake’ which had an eerie white crust along its banks, highlighted by yellow dried out plants and grey green rocks. Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance, and again we had the feeling of being on another planet. On Monday 26th May we made our way to Murghab, the last major town in the Pamir, and in Tajikistan. And what a place…. When we arrived, it looked inhospitable, unfriendly and alien. The buildings were mainly mud bricks and the young locals walked around in hoodies. We had to stop and stock up on food and diesel, but after our initial view of the town, we drove straight through it, not stopping and found an isolated valley to park up for the night about 10km out of town. The following day however, we did explore Murghab. The sun was out, and actually, our initial judgemental impressions turned out to be totally off the mark. We found the bazaar and finally got to buy some fresh fruit and veg, eggs and biscuits. The locals were really approachable and we enjoyed going in and out of the shops, which comprised metal 'storage' boxes that reminded me of site cabins at work. In one of the shops, we spotted a Canadian couple which we had passed the previous day on route to Murghab. They had enquired about an excursion to visit some petroglyphs in a cave (Shakhty) some 20km south of Murghab. They needed to fill a 4x4 with four people however, to make the cost worthwhile, so kindly they asked us to come too! We said yes and arranged to meet them at noon the following day. On Wednesday 28th May we found the Canadian couple (Audrey and Jaleck) at their guest house, and after lunch we met our driver and were whisked off-road towards the caves. The ride was ridiculous. The guide drove as fast as he could without destroying the vehicle and subsequently Audrey felt car-sick. We arrived at the caves after witnessing more of the desolate sandy Pamiran Valleys, with impenetrable red twisted red metamorphic sandstone cliffs that defined the Pamir Highway from Alichur to Murghab. The world Pamir, describes the large expansive plateau area, (I am assuming) which are formed from glaciers filling and eroding out the valleys. The driver indicated that we had arrived at the cave. He pointed up a really steep slope, and didn't joined us as we scrabbled up (which is quite hard to do at 4200mASL). On the wall of a slight overhang of rock (not really a cave) were several petroglyphs painted with red ochre. We could make out a bear and an ostrich and possibly a Yak. It was fantastic, and the valley was so isolated and desolate. No person was around for miles, and nothing grew except a few dried out shrubs, waiting for the summer sunshine. After the cave, we were whisked further down the valley in hopes to see some rare Marco Polo Sheep, which were in the area. Unfortunately we didn't spot any, but the driver did take us to a meteorite crater which was a large hole in the sandy ground, about 15m across. There was no meteorite at the base, so I enquired with the driver if it was in a museum, but he didn't know. Some of the locals were cynical that the hole was formed by a meteorite and suggested it was a sink-hole instead! Then it was time to go back to Murghab via more extreme driving.... It was not for the faint hearted. The following morning we departed from Murghab and continued north to a huge lake (Karakul) which was apparently (this time) formed from a meteor crater. The lake was blue and huge, but the weather that day was freezing and windy. We spent the night on the north-west side of the lake, some distance from the road, watching the snow capped mountains ahead of us disappear in a white fog, which inevitably turned out to be snow. It was the highest altitude we had slept (4100mASL) and we froze! On Friday 30th May we would cross the Tajik border into Kyrgyzstan. That morning however, we spotted a man in a yellow coat walking along the most horrendous bumpy road ahead of us, on route to the border. He put his arm out to hitch hike. We stopped to give him a lift. He told us that his wife was ahead on her bike looking for their tent which had blown away in the wind... The valley was massive, and we spent all morning helping them to find their tent. I sat with Gulnara for a little while, while Ed and Dimitri continued to look. She was a lovely lady. A Tartar from Russia, who was joining her husband on part of his round the world trip, cycling from Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan) to Dushanbe. Sadly the tent (which was bright yellow) was never recovered and we wished Dimitri and Gulnara good luck on their trip. They didn't have too far to get to Karakul (a small village with homestays) and possibly in Murghab or Khorog they could buy a new tent. So on we went to the border, and this time, it was a relatively easy and quick crossing, except the Tajik border guards wanted Ed to pay them some money (apparently for not having a receipt for the vehicle being brought into the country). This was rubbish however, as Ed did have the receipt.... they were just being dodgy and corrupt, but Ed held steadfast and refused to give them anything. Finally they gave up and we passed into about 20km of no-mans land between the Tajik and Kygyz borders. And for one of the first times on the trip, the landscape changed as soon as we crossed the Tajik border, from desolate high altitude desert to red and green striped mountains covered in fresh grass. Grass! we hadn't seen grass for nigh on two weeks! It was actually a relief to descend into the warm green valleys of Kyrgyzstan. The Kygyz border guards were very friendly, and a little girl called Irana (the daughter of one of the Customs Officers) made it equally lovely. She was 7yrs old and taught me a couple of Kyrgyz words while Ed sorted the 'official' stuff out. I gave her a one pound coin that I had in my pocket and she seemed pleased with her little treasure. On the down-side, the border guard told us that there was a problem on the road we were taking..... the only road north through Kyrgyzstan to Kazakhstan. That night we parked up in a beautiful red sandstone gorge which was lush with green shrubs, grass and butterflies. The following morning we arrived at the village of Sopu-Korgan to find yet another political road blockade. The 'only' road we could drive on was filled with yurts, cars and people. We couldn't believe it! It had happened to us again! We got the binoculars out and tried to get a closer look..... We were put off from walking into the mingling crowd, but Ed asked a passing local and he said the blockade would stay for 3 days. 'sigh'. We decided to turn around and explore another route west of Sary-Tash, a village we had already driven through the previous day. On the descent back to Sary-Tash the truck began coughing and spitting out white smoke..... Ed pushed it further down the hill to Sary-Tash and then we broke down..... Ed was anxious. It looked serious and possibly a damaged injector pump. I made tea while the tool kit came out, and to add insult to injury, the temperature dropped dramatically and it started to snow. We both had to contemplate the end of the trip, because Ed went through all the vehicle checks and assumed the worst.... Potentially we would have to abandon the vehicle and get a taxi to Osh to find a garage, or worse, to fly home. The concept was upsetting and we sat in mournful silence for a little while drinking tea. Ed had two final checks to complete, which comprised draining all the fuel from the injector pump, filter and sedimenter, and re-filling with fresh diesel. About ten minutes later, Ed opened the back door of the truck and seemed more encouraged. The truck was still running terribly, but it worked, so we decided to return the way we came, complete with a white smokescreen ejecting from the exhaust. After about 10 minutes of thrashing, the smoke cleared. We both breathed a huge sigh of relief as the problem seemed to have righted itself. Bad diesel (with water and dirt) was likely to blame from the dodgy diesel sellers of Uzbekistan. Pesky as they are.... The old man at the Sary-Tash check-point confirmed to us, that there was no other road to Osh. We had to return to Sopu-Korgan and sit out the blockade..... We decided on a very nice camp spot alongside the River Gulcha some 15km south of the road block and the following morning (1st June), I caught up on some washing and worked on the truck (draining the fuel tank, repairing a fuel leak and changing the gear oil and hub oil). All the while, we wondered if the German couple, Dagmar and Klaus had made it through the blockade, as we knew they had crossed the border on 29th May. Suddenly our musings were answered. We looked up from our washing and (Ed) diesel covered clothes, and zee Germans were walking towards us! They hadn't made it through either, but had spent a couple of days exploring the area around Peak Lenin. We caught up on each other's news and then decided to give the blockade another go. Together; like Khorog again! We quickly packed up the truck and once more, the Land Rover and our (now healthier truck) were in convoy again, making a beeline towards the protesters! Once we got there, Ed, myself and Klaus hopped out. In the rain, there were less people mingling about than the previous day and the atmosphere seemed more settled (i.e. less drunkenness). All three of us walked into the blockade to find out if we could cross, leaving Dagmar with the vehicles. A man with one leg, approached us and led us along a path beside the blockade, which skirted alongside the River Gulcha, which appeared to be a passable off-road option for avoiding the road block. Annoyingly however, the locals had a low-lying white electricity cable running above our potential escape route, and the truck would never fit under it. Soon we were surrounded by protesters wondering what we were up too.... One of their henchmen dramatically approached us and crossed his arms in the shape of an 'X' indicating that we could not pass through.... In the rain, I decided to return to the vehicles and Dagmar, leaving Ed and Klaus to negotiate further. They stood there in the rain (trying to look as bedraggled as possible) and finally the wife of the protest 'leader' came over to them and explained the situation (in perfect English). Apparently their local government candidate had been arrested and imprisoned, and so unable to partake in a forthcoming election campaign. She explained that the blockade would last one week, and she wanted to know if we would publicise their campaign. We were tourists however, and could not get involved. The husband (protest leader) then told Ed and Klaus to return in one hour, and we would be allowed to pass through the blockade (via the off-road path alongside the river).... We ate lunch and an hour passed us by. Klaus took the lead in the Land Rover in-case we blocked up the route with the truck, and soon we were in the middle of the blockade. The Land Rover made it down onto the river bank with ease. The truck however, slowly squeezed through a gap between the Yurts in the road and other HGV's. Just as it looked like we were going to make it, the fierce henchman (who had made an 'X' gesture to us), stood in the middle of the road, blocking our way, punching his fists together at Ed, giving him the most intimidating evil stare.... He did not want us to pass through. This was contrary to what the protest leader wanted, and we were beckoned forward by many other friendly protestors, who calmly ignored the scary man who didn't want us to pass through. Seizing the chance, Ed edged forward, ignoring the man waving his fists about, and Klaus appeared, jumping on the roof to lift the white cable above the height of the truck box. Soon we were cab window facing the mud, sliding down a steep muddy slope to the river. It was touch and go, but by some miracle the truck made it and stayed up-right! Dagmar took photos the entire time, and we celebrated quickly alongside the River bank, before driving off as quickly as possible. Staying in convoy we found a lovely camp spot by the river some 35km north of the blockade. In the river valley there were several men loading up a blue truck with the river gravels, and after we parked up, they came over to say hello and watch Ed and Klaus straightening up the winch cable on the truck. They helped with the cable, and then disappeared. Twenty minutes later, they returned with vodka and a local mildly alcoholic fermented milk drink. The remainder of evening was spent getting wasted on vodka, singing and trying to communicate. Payment for the vodka comprised Ed and Klaus helping to load up the truck with gravels (5 to 6 tonne) with shovels. It was hilarious. We have a video... to follow. The next day we made it to Osh (I was ill). We couldn't believe we had successfully passed through two road blocks with Dagmar and Klaus and the four of us celebrated with lunch in the truck cooked by Dagmar. We also shared some of our photos of the trip so far. They are an amazing couple, and we couldn't have done it without them. They are the perfect balance of good humour and courage in the face of an overlanding drama. When we said goodbye, jokingly we all hoped that we would not meet at another blockade again, but next time near the Black Forest, (on our route home), where Dagmar had invited us to their home for some 'real' Schwartzvolderkirschetorte. And now, we are in Osh. Its warm, there are no road blocks, we have just frequented the Bazaar and re-stocked our fridge and we couldn't be happier. If anyone has Skype, we now have internet access for the next 7 days (signal permitting), so if you want to see our bedraggled smiley faces, then give us a Skype! Apologies for this verbose blog and spelling mistakes, because I can't be bothered this time to read through and check. Much love to all at home. Roslyn & Ed. What an amazing, but hot and tiring week we’ve had! The cops have stopped us too many times to mention, we’ve seen our first herds of camels, the inevitable first puncture has occurred (while we were in the Kazakh desert), and we have met the most amazing people this week. Fellow travellers and the wonderful Luda outside Astrakhan. It all feels a bit more tangible now. We explored Astrakhan last Friday and ended up parking in the city’s stadium car park. After wandering around town and taking in the sights of the mighty River Volga, we returned to an absolutely heaving car park, and luckily the truck wasn’t blocked in! It turned out there was a football match on (we think Vologograd Vs Astrakhan), but luckily the car park had emptied again by dusk. The not so good bit, was sudden screeching of tyres and loud thumping music after it got dark! A scene from the ‘Fast & the Furious’ was happening right out of the window when Ed took a sneaky peek outside. Needless to say, we didn’t get much sleep that night. Worst still, no sign of the police turfing the youngsters off, but as soon as morning came; the police turfed us off, and I was only just getting up!... Probably not the best choice of camp spot… On the positive side however, we learned from the Police that the Kazakh border was open on Sundays, so we were determined to cross as soon as possible. On Saturday, we had to make sure we had plenty of water, food and diesel for the road to Kazakhstan and on into Khiva in Uzbekistan (basically a few hundred miles of desert). We found food and diesel easily enough, but water was a problem. Outside Astrakhan (after another police stop), Ed decided to pull into a small café that had a couple of HGVs outside to enquire about water. Sure enough, they had a well, and the lady in charge of the café (Luda) offered us her hose and we filled up the tank. While the tank was slowly filling, we attempted to chat with Luda. She was so wonderful to us and invited us into the café, bringing us tea and pancakes with yoghurt. Then she sat with us and we had lots of fun trying to communicate, as our Russian is non-existent and Luda’s English was basic. It was hard work but all done with smiles. Amidst the miss-communication, we learned that Luda was actually Ukrainian (from Odessa) and her husband was Russian and worked in Astrakhan. We chatted for a little while, about our trip and then I tried to explain that I was a twin, much to Ed’s amusement….. With some pen and paper and dodgy hand signals, Luda finally understood, and told me that her sister lived in Kaliningrad and consequently they didn’t see each other very often. When the tank was full, we tried to pay Luda for the water, tea and pancakes, but she didn’t want anything from us. Instead, she sweetly wished us a good trip to Kazakhstan, and if we came back via Astrakhan again, we should come and have food with her. It was a rewarding experience for us both and suddenly the trip felt alive and meaningful. This was what it was all about for us. Saturday night we found a lovely spot along one of the tributaries of the Volga. The locals were herding their cows along the river bank and it was a peaceful sight. Unfortunately, right next to the river, we fed the mosquitos. It was a muggy night and the weather was definitely getting warmer. We were up early on Sunday, with less than a one hour drive to the border. It turned out to be a relatively easy one, and only taking 2.5hrs. Whilst queuing on the Kazakh side, amusingly, one of the officers wanted to get in the truck cab. He sat in the driver’s seat next to me and beeped the horn a few times, but stopped sharpish when an official looking car drove past! Also his features were decidedly Central Asian (Kazakh) and not Russian. We had noticed the transition from Volgograd. Once we had crossed the Russian barrier, a very tall border guard (who spoke English) directed us through and speeded us ahead of everyone else. Again, more forms to fill out, passport control, customs and stamps. The truck was checked over, but only briefly. It was all made very easy for us and everyone was lovely. On the Kazakh side, another really nice border guard (with a half bitten off ear) was prioritising families with children, and he kindly took us to the desk of one of the officers that spoke English. Ashamedly, we were prioritised seemed to be prioritised again (being tourists) and bypassed a queue of locals, who didn’t look very happy with us… We felt guilty, but elated to have crossed into Kazakhstan so quickly. It was much easier to get into Kazakhstan than into Russia and we had made it into Central Asia at last! Across the border, all the women had their faces covered with scarves (likely to do with the dusty salty environment and not for religious reasons), but it made for an intimidating initial impression of Kazakhstan. Ed had to get the motor insurance, but as soon as we had crossed the border, we were bombarded with women (their faces covered} trying to sell us Tenge (Kazakh currency). Luckily, they were all genuinely helpful, and we managed to get some Tenge and the motor insurance straight away. So onward we went into Kazakhstan! Wahoo! The road from the border was horrendous. The worst we have been on so far, and we were on it at least 10 hrs, getting bumped around in the heat on route to the next major town; Atyrau. But it didn’t matter. The scenery and wild life was totally unexpected and absolutely wonderful. There had been rain the few days previous, and spring had come to Kazakhstan. I was expecting harsh bleak desert with grim oil fields, as western Kazakhstan is home to the Tengiz oil field (the largest on-land field in the country), but I couldn’t have been more wrong. We did see some small scale oil extraction, but we also saw fields of green scented herbs, bright red poppies, herds of cows (nibbling the poppies), and hundreds of horses and camels wading in the newly filled ponds and lakes created by the spring rains. We passed one such pond and it had about 200 frogs in it with their heads poking out of the water, ribbeting away. We saw an eagle (possibly a steppe eagle), bee-eaters (they flew right in front of the truck and flashed their green and orange feathers at us, it was fantastic). We also spotted several hoopoes, crested sky larks, yellow wagtails and one bird (that looks like a mini turkey – we have no idea what it is). Also we have loved the cows and camels crossing the road, and even more sweet, the marmots. We have seen lots of them poking their heads out of the sand. They are too quick to get a photo of though! Oh and ground squirrels. We have seen a few of those too. When we entered Kazakhstan, I never expected to be on safari, but it has felt like we were. Truly unforgettable. So after a lot of bumpy roads, we made it to Atyrau by Monday lunchtime, after an overnight spot in the middle of the Kazakh desert. The landscape is so flat, and there is no where to hide really. That particular night I didn’t sleep very well. On Monday we had to drive south-east to a town called Beyneu, close to the Uzbek border. It was a long way, and the temperature seemed to be going up and up. After Atyrau the roads improved immensely and we were basically flying over newly lain tarmac most of the way. The landscape however, became more desert like and we said goodbye to the shallow wetland areas and hello to crispy salt pans. We were still surprised however, to see so much green including a strange looking mini-tree like plant with red berries, that appeared to be growing out of a cabbage! It turned out to be some form of wild rhubarb (we later learned). We ate up the miles on Monday, and then – disaster! On Monday afternoon, Ed heard a hissing sound, and sadly the back passenger side tyre was deflating rapidly. We had a flat! My heart sank… Luckily it wasn’t too late in the day, and there was enough day light left to change it and hopefully not end up stranded by the roadside. Ed pulled over straight away, and was pleased that it was ‘just’ a flat tyre and not something worse (like a big air leak from the brakes)! In fact, neither of us panicked. We locked up the cab and I grabbed more water and some sweeties from the back of the truck. Ed managed to jack up the truck easily enough and knock the tyre off without it falling on him. Unfortunately, we had pulled over on an uneven surface, so the truck had to be jacked up even more. When the tyre, the rim and inner tube was finally off, Ed found the culprit; a piece of steel rebar had punctured through the tyre and the inner tube….. Ed needed to change the inner tube and then hopefully we could get moving again. I did my best to help pass him tools and hold the tyre. I fed him sweets and doused him with water (it was a hot afternoon), and after about 2.5hrs, Ed was pumping up the tyre and we were packing up, ready to hit the road again. Ed was mighty pleased with himself and had been my hero (as usual). He had only changed one of the truck tyres on one previous occasion over a year ago, and apparently you need a college course under your belt to change one of these bad boys if you worked in a garage in Blighty. Mental note. Always travel with Ed everywhere, as he seems to know everything….. except maybe Disney films, of which he knows nothing. So tyre sorted, everything seemed positive again, except we were in the middle of the Kazakh desert and the sun had nearly set, and we hadn’t seen many places to get off the road and park up for the night. We ended up driving in the dark for a little while. Something we agreed we would never do, but we couldn’t just stay in the road as there was no real layby, and it wouldn’t be safe. Eventually, we found a patch of sand just off the road that would be ideal (what we saw of it in the dark). There was a gentle downward slope, allowing us to hide (a little) into the landscape. So finally we settled down for the night with the sound of crickets chirping outside. It felt like we were in Provence on a warm summer’s night, and not in the Kazakh desert in spring. All very relaxing. On Tuesday morning, in the daylight, we woke and realised we had actually parked next to a camel skeleton! It was quite spectacular actually, the skull had managed to migrate about 3 meters from the body and I took the opportunity to get an epic photo with Barney bear looking on (see in pics). Also, as Ed was getting out of the truck, suddenly another overlander was pulling up alongside us! It was two vehicles from a Dutch Convoy, and they had spotted us from the road. They’re names were Jeroen, Jolande and Virginia, travelling in a 4 wheel drive MAN, and another van was with them (a 4x4 Mercedes Sprinter) driven (alone) by a courageous older lady. We all chatted for nearly an hour. It was great – we were basically doing a very similar trip and got to share our experiences so far and information. We also exchanged numbers and promised to update each other with regards to border crossings and potential problems along the route. Then we waved good bye and drove to Beyneu – the last major Kazakh town before the Uzbek border. Beyneu was a bustling Steppe town and it was market day when we accidently drove down the main street (missing the turning to the Kazakh border). It did give us opportunity to get more diesel however, where we bumped into the Dutch Convoy again, who were doing the same thing. Jeroen pointed us in the correct direction to Kazakhstan! From Beyneu to the border, the roads were grim. Ed had to off road onto the sand a few times, and the early section of the road was so thread bare that the steel gridded rebar was poking through the tarmac, and we didn’t want another puncture! So even though we got up quite early on Tuesday – we didn’t get to the Kazakh border until 5pm. It was also the hottest day so far and we were sweating buckets…. Ed had measured 37 degrees on the temperature monitor inside the truck when we stopped for lunch…. Hot hot. Finally we made it to the Kazakh Uzbek border around 5pm. However there appeared to be a long queue, with lorries on the left and cars on the right. It took us about an hour to realise (with the help of some Uzbeks trying to cross) that tourists didn’t have to queue. Embarrassingly, Ed checked and the information was correct. We drove passed the queue, which we learned was a 3 day wait (!), and got into Kazakh / Uzbek space straight away feeling very sheepish, but relieved not to have to wait 3 whole days.. OMG. Unfortunately on the Uzbek side, only 3 cars per hour were being allowed through. It was carnage and the sun would be setting soon…. We prepared ourselves for a long night. In no mans land – Ed spotted a Land Rover camper. The border guard indicated that we should join the lorry queue, so we parked up and went to say hello to the fellow overlanders as we had time on our hands. It was so hot, everyone was out of their cars milling around. People were selling drinks, cigarettes and bread, and the atmosphere seemed quite relaxed considering. If this was the U.K it would be pandemonium. It turned out that the Land Rover was occupied by two Germans (Dagmar and husband Klaus) and we marvelled, as we had been on the road for 4 weeks now, and met no-one doing the same trip as us, but in one day we had met two overlanders and we were all doing similar trips. They were a lovely couple, middle-aged and were taking the long queue in their stride. We chatted for a while until the sun went down and Dagmar and Klaus told us that they had been at the border since early this morning and hardly had moved. Also the queue they were in was two cars wide, and about 10 cars long. We only had about 4 trucks in front of us. Inevitably (due to the length of a HGV), the truck queue moved a lot faster than the cars….. In the end we waved goodbye to Dagmar and Klaus and finally made it into Uzbekistan at 12.45am, where we immediately parked up for the night and went to sleep. The whole crossing took us just under 7hrs. We felt really terrible for making the crossing before Dagmar and Klaus, but it was because we were too wide for the car wheel wash just before the crossing…. We had to go through the truck wheel wash, so thank heavens for being in a truck. For Dagmar and Klaus they didn’t make it until 6am and their entire border crossing took 24hrs. We felt awful, and guilty for all the people that would be waiting 3 days. It was unthinkable in the heat. A lot of the people trying to cross were foot passengers and they had no where to sit and no where to go. Grim. The actual Uzbek side was ‘again’ easy once we got there. Everyone was really helpful to us – even though it was very late at night…. Again we were prioritised as tourists. On the downside, Ed had to pay $400 import tax for bringing the truck into the country (which he was expecting). If you were in a car you didn’t have to pay this…. So that thought made us feel a bit less guilty for jumping a three day queue…. So the following morning (Wednesday) after 5 hrs sleep, meters from the Uzbek border, we celebrated being in Uzbekistan, and it brought a tear to my eye. It was the first country on our list that Ed had been most excited to get to and we had finally made it!... Looking ahead, we had a 1.5 day drive through the Uzbek desert to get to Khiva, our first city on the historic silk road and finally we could relax, and stop driving, as we had been almost flat out since leaving Europe behind 10 days previous. The north-western Uzbek desert was much harsher than what we had experienced in Kazakhstan. There was very little to see except flat sand scapes, although there was a flourish of wild rhubarb until about 100km from the border and the occasional bird or camel. It was extremely hot and the roads were horrendously bumpy for about 50km from the border. Also we were now using GPS to figure out where we were and there were virtually NO road signs at all!, so we had to keep pulling over to check our position on the laptop as the truck was bouncing around too much to read the map in transit. We made it just outside the Uzbek Republic’s Capital (Nukas) on Wednesday night and found somewhere to pull in; a designated parking area next to a quiet road. It was so hot in the truck, that when we came to shower, the water in the tank was warm, and for the first time on the trip, I didn’t have to boil a kettle to wash (yes… Ed has still not plumbed in the hot water). The following morning (Thursday), the scenery became greener as we passed through villages that were irrigated from channelled streams (that should have been feeding the shrinking Aral Sea). It was odd to see a village, verdant like an oasis, and then a few miles out of town, more harsh salty desert. It was lovely however, to see people with horse and cart, or donkey and cart, travelling up the road and mud huts with perfectly tended vegetable plots in the gleaming sunshine. The real people of Uzbekistan. The cops stopped us a couple of times on Thursday, but Ed revelled in it. He loved chatting with everyone he met, even the traffic cops, and they were all wonderfully friendly, and one chap even saluted Ed as we drove passed! They stop people at random, and the truck stands out a mile, so it was never a frightening thing to be pulled over as it became a daily exercise. They just want documents and a chat really. So far we have not been fleeced by any corrupt cops during the entire trip (crossing fingers). What was becoming a problem however was diesel, or lack thereof. We had heard rumours at the border that there was no diesel in Uzbekistan, but we didn’t believe it. We were carrying a full capacity (over 500 litres) when we left Kazakhstan, so we werent too worried. However, the previous day we had seen at least 10 petrol stations and none of them had Diesel, accept one before and after Nukas, but there were massive queues for both, so we didn’t stop. However, on Thursday afternoon, not too far from Khiva, we pulled into one of the 'empty' stations as there was a HGV parked up. Ed got out and enquired about diesel and the few men hanging around there shook their heads. Before Ed got back in the truck however, one of the younger lads chased after him and said he knew where to get some diesel. He came in the truck with us and we drove a few minutes down the road, down a small street. It turned out to be his dad that had some diesel. He brought it out in a large blue barrel and Ed sniffed it. We later learned that this is how you buy diesel in Uzbekistan.... on the black market. It even is confirmed in out Bradt Guide, when I got round to reading it! Basically the country gets delivered diesel and all the locals buy it and stock up on it, as deliveries are not regular. They pay the actual price, and then people like us, pay double what they have paid (from them). But it's still cheap by U.K standards! In Kazakhstan the diesel was 30p per litre, and we expected as much in Uzbekistan. On the black marker (a side street near Khiva) we paid 70p per litre. The problem was we didn't know what quality we were getting. It sounds crazy, but this was the only way to get diesel in Uzbekistan! So down the side street, Ed agreed to buy 100 litres. I got out of the truck too, and it was all quite a casual atmosphere. Five other lads had come to watch and they were more interested in the truck than the diesel transaction. Amusingly, one of them looked like an Uzbek Tom Cruise and he told me that he wanted to go to the U.K... or that is what I gathered as no one really spoke any English. Another quirky thing about Uzbekistan is that the currency (Uzbek Som) is ridiculous. Twenty Pounds of Uzbek Som looks like you have robbed a bank. Its a massive wad of cash. Everyone has bulging pockets and Ed is constantly counting out money. This made the road side diesel transaction even more hilarious, as Ed got out a lunchbox size wad of notes, but it turns out they preferred US dollars instead. So diesel tank 'replenished' we made it to Khiva. We have to register that we are in Uzbekistan (as tourists) or we are subject to hefty fines, although the Uzbek border guard told us it was not necessary if we were going to Tajikistan. Well we didn’t want to risk it, so oncin Khiva, we entered into the old walled city when the shadows were lengthening and the sun was reflecting a warm sumptuous glow over the spectacular buildings, in search of somewhere to register. We passed into the city, beyond the 7m thick mud walls from the North Gate and wandered for a bit, then out of the West Gate, so a quick glimpse in the evening sunshine. I have to say, Khiva is stunning. All the Madrassa’s, Mosques and Minarets are clad in aquamarine, turquoise, royal blue and dark green ceramic tiles and they glint in the sun like jewels. We tore ourselves away from the old city and beyond the West Gate spotted a Guest House (Alibek). Ed noticed a green Toyota Land Cruiser (another overlander) parked outside, so we guessed they were registering too, so we popped in the guest house and they said we could register but we would have to pay for the room. We ended up staying there two nights. They were a lovely family. We also made friends with the Belgium inhabitants of the Toyota called Raf and Leen, and we had dinner with them on Thursday evening (Plov) and then we bumped into them a lot over the following 48hrs as they were also enjoying Khiva or the shade from the Guest House balcony. After dinner, Ed went to grab something from the truck and then lo and behold, there was Dagmar and Klaus.They had made it to Khiva too. We invited them (and Raf and Leen) into the truck and we all enjoyed the Champagne that Ed and I had been saving for such a special occasion. It was lovely. Then, a French man called Phillip (who Ed and I had spotted taking photos in the City earlier) joined in, as he had spotted us all in the truck. He was a travel photographer and his journey was by motorcycle and sounded utterly epic…. He wanted to be the first motorcyclist to journey in summer and winter in Aisa, Russia and Siberia. So we crammed two Germans, two Belgians, a French man and me and Ed into the truck! It was hilarious. :P On Friday morning, we got up at 5.30am to watch the sun rise over Khiva and enjoy the city on our own. It was very special. Then, later in the midday sun, we enjoyed Khiva again when it was bustling, and also again later in the evening – one last time. Saturday morning, we said goodbye to our hosts at Alibek and to Leen and Raf who were heading into the desert. We took the south-eastern road out of Khiva through fantastic oasis and desert scenery, and at one point (after another police stop) the road and the railway track became one and the same! Also the most amazing wildlife spectacle. Alongside a river channel (on a very bumpy road towards a beautiful Uzbek village called Pitnak) we happened upon a sand martin 'hive' of sorts. A sandy bank was dotted with hundreds of small holes, each home to a sand martin, and they came whipping out in their hundreds looking for insects - right next to truck. To add the splendid scene - several bee eaters were also joining in. It was wonderful to behold. Finally, we got onto the main highway to Bukhara. It was a very hot, windy day and part of the highway was being stolen by the desert, with sand encroaching either side of the road. It was definitely a sight. That night, we paid a farmer 6000 Uzbek Som to park outside his house, as oppose to in the desert, and today we have made it to Bukhara. It is now Sunday night and we are staying in a hotel right in the centre of the city. We were only here 30 minutes and we met an English lad called James (from High Wycombe) who is cycling from the U.K to Shanghai. We just had dinner with him (and Raf and Leen; the Belgians, as they just turned up too). Tomorrow we will soak up the sights of Bukhara (wish you were here mam and dad), and then on Tuesday we will drive north to see how the Uzbek pottery and ceramics are still made, before driving to Samarkand. By the end of this week we should be crossing into Tajikistan. The Silk road cities are beautiful. You can imagine Persia in it's hayday.... What has also struck me is that the garb of the ancient Persians is exactly how we imagine a wizard to dress, with the sun and the moons embroidered onto their silken cloaks. They were the early scholars of the world, and you can imagine it, sitting across from the impressive buildings. They even sell little brass aladdins lamps. Ed hates tat, but I am thinking of buying one, though after the last month or so, I don't need my three wishes.... Happy and content. Lots of Love Roslyn & Ed. Hello. This blog is a long one – so beware! It’s been an interesting and rewarding week. After Vilnius, we continued our journey north towards the Latvian border and (still in Lithuania) made camp opposite a beautiful lake in the Lithuanian Forest. It was located a few hours drive north of Vilnius and possibly our prettiest camp spot so far. The following morning (Saturday 26th) we ventured north towards Latvia. Unfortunately we thought we had over-slept as our phones were reading 9.45am when we got up (lazy bums). Unknowingly we had crossed another time zone and were now GMT +2. On the downside it meant we were much later getting on the road, as we needed to make it well into south-east Latvia by the end of the day, so we could have a rest day (Sunday) and be close to the Russian border for a Monday morning crossing. The Lithuanian roads northwards mainly comprised single tracked lanes through woodland, rolling farmland, and with the occasional beautiful lake thrown in. The further north we drove however, the more drier the landscape appeared. It looked like the Baltic States were in drought. We crossed the border into Latvia early evening on Saturday and was greeted by the border town of Daugavpils. It was a serious looking place, and looked very Russian and not very cheery. It turns out that south-east Latvia has a high Russian population, and Daugavpils in particular is almost completely Russian (according to my trusty D.K guide from Jennifer Hoyle. Thanks Jen!). The roads declined as we drove north-east through Latvia and soon our bottoms were leaving our seats more often than not! It was a weary day, and the sun was starting to go down before we could find a good place to park up for the night. To be honest, I wasn’t sure we were going to find anywhere decent. Most of the roads we had seen in Poland, Lithuania and Latvia were raised higher than the surrounding ground level – which is basically sand. In some places – the sand is water logged, so the road is obviously higher due to flooding. I am decided that the Coal of the future is being formed in these countries, as a lot of it looks swampy, with the tree roots sat in the water. Maybe another Pontypridd will be founded in 300 millions years time ;p Also – what we had seen so far of Latvia made me feel a bit uneasy. It looked like the back of beyond and very deprived compared with Lithuania. As luck would have it though, we settled on a spot next to a newly dug lake, which had its own picnic bench and even a bin! Ed spotted it as we were on route to Ludza (the last Latvian town before the border). We camped up for the night and hoped for sunshine again on Sunday. Sunday was our rest day, except we took the opportunity to do some washing, as we had two whole weeks worth of dirties!…. There was a stream running into the lake, so Ed collected water and we used the truck as a makeshift washing line. The weather has been glorious, so we soaked up the sun while our smalls were drying, and had a well deserved chill out after all the bumpy roads (since Warsaw). Later when we were cooking our tea outside, a car pulled up alongside us and a Latvian chap got out. He shook Ed’s hand enthusiastically and smiled at us both. He didn’t speak much English, but he wanted to know what the Truck was (the make) and where we were going. After Ed answered his questions he disappeared back to his car and we thought that was that. A minute later however, he came back with a bottle of beer and gave it to Ed!. ‘Latvian Beer – Welcome to Latvia’, then he shook Ed’s hand again and was off! We couldn’t believe how generous he was, and wondered how many times that was likely to happen in the UK if a Latvian Motor Truck was passing through…… Also my earlier feelings of unease about the area of Latvia we were in, dissolved instantly. The following morning (Monday) we drove to the Latvian-Russian border. I was really nervous as this was the first time I had crossed a proper border. We made sure the truck was ship shape, apart from our slightly damp clothes strewn everywhere from the previous days washing….. We arrived at the Latvian side of the border at 9.30am, and it would be 1.30pm until we were finally allowed into Russia. The Latvian side was pretty straight forward. About a mile before the border, we had to pull over and collect a document which had our vehicle registration on (printed out by the guard) and lots of spaces for ‘important stamps’. We needed five stamps in all. One each for entering and leaving Latvian space, one from security, and two from customs (for food / belongings etc.). It took a while, but it was just a case of being pushed from pillar to post, plus on the Latvian side, they weren’t that interested in what was in the truck – they just took a quick peak without getting inside. The Russian border guards were a bit more exciting. There were two of them. Young lads, and we weren’t sure if we were amusing them, but they seemed to be joking and laughing a lot, and were quite jovial. We had to fill out a form (basic passport and visa details and dates of entry and exit in and out of Russia). We then took this information to a security desk. A stern looking Russian man typed our details onto his computer, scanned in our visas and passports, and then stared at us for a slightly extended amount of time to make sure we were the persons in the passport. This was not a good time to laugh….. Then – the two jovial guards wanted to look in the truck. A small audience of even younger looking guards also appeared – they were obviously interested. I would soon come to learn (when we finally started driving through Russia), that Russian men love their trucks. The amount of times someone over took us and craned their necks back to look at the front of the truck has so far been endless…. Lol. A British Truck is obviously a rare and odd sight to the Russian eye. So Ed went inside the truck with the two guards. They looked in all the cupboards. It made me laugh as only a couple of things drew suspicion. 1: Ed’s fishing rod; probably because the case it is in makes it look like a large knife, or gun!; and 2: The fact that Ed only had one beer in the fridge! and he didn’t even buy it, it was from the lovely Latvian chap! Hehe…. “only one beer, this man can’t be trusted’….. is probably what I would have heard if I could speak Russian. After all that, we had to go through Russian customs and fill out some forms – ending up declaring nothing. No-one spoke any English at this border, and it was a lot smaller than we thought it was going to be. To be honest though, it wasn’t too bad really. We got to Russia with a whoop whoop and smiles. Ed purchased the motor insurance on the other side for £80 which would cover us for 7 months! Then we had lunch just meters from the border and finally drove into Mother Russia after 3pm. Truck after Russian truck. Ed was in seventh heaven. We made good miles towards Moscow and then pulled up on the Motorway layby with other HGVs for the night and in celebration, Ed enjoyed his Latvian beer. I had also attempted to start learning how to pronounce the Cyrillic, as our map was ALL Russian and even Moscow was MOCKBA (a ‘c’ is pronounced as ‘s’ and a ‘b’ is pronounced as a ‘v’) – just in case the satnav did us an in-justice. The most annoying was the bloody satnav was in English, so didn’t match the Russian road map, so I had to hastily try and translate some of the town names when the road signs popped up to make sure we were going the right way. After the border crossing, we now had a hell of a drive the rest of the week. We had to drive east to Moscow, then south-east to Astrakan which was our next destination (near the Kazakh border). All to avoid the mental Ukraine. So from Tuesday afternoon to Friday afternoon we have covered more than 1200 miles of Russian road. None of the roads are numbered either. Whilst transiting the Russian land-mass, to be honest, there have not been many sights to see (well lots of Russian Trucks for Ed). However, we have seen a few grass fires. It looks like drought in northern Russia too. We also ended up in Moscow rush our – which was hilarious. People in Russia tend to drive either really old cars (mostly Ladas it seems) or spanking new ones. On this particular day, a few old ones (and there was more than one) had broken down on the Motorway and people were out of their cars casually fixing them in the middle of the road! Also, one highlight of being on the Russian equivalent of the M25, was that we saw a sign for ‘Moscow Centre’. Unfortunately that was as close as we got to the Kremlin, as we just had too much driving to do. Reason being, is that if you are in Russia for more than 5 days, you have to register somewhere (or this is what we have been led to believe), so we wanted to transit sharpish. Plus any time sightseeing would mean eating up our time in Central Asia. So on we went. The landscape for the majority of the journey through Russia has been flat and sandy, similar to what we left behind in the Baltic. The scenery did however seem to get better the further south we got, though oddly, the weather got worse the further south!. We passed an invisible line about 100miles south of Moscow, and then our 7 full days of complete unbroken sunshine was replaced with rain and cloud….. reminded me of home. The roads on the whole were pretty good, but there were some horrendous bumpy sections. We took the M6 all the way to Volgograd. There were traffic cops all over the place and for the first few days we couldn’t believe that they hadn’t pulled us over. Our time came on Wednesday afternoon though. A dead pan traffic officer pulled us over. ‘Documents’. Luckily we had everything in one place for such an eventuality. Even more lucky, it was all over in a minute and we didn’t get fleeced. On the whole, all the Russian we have spoken too have been amazingly nice (mostly at fuel stops, plus I did buy some honey on the side of the road which tastes like rocket fuel). Ed has had plenty of attention as most Russian men want to talk about the truck. One such man (south of Moscow) was really helpful when Ed enquired about the roads to Astrakan. First we thought he was saying ‘No Kazakhstan’! which was a bit worrying, but Ed explained we were going to Uzbekistan from Kazakhstan. He said the roads were pretty bad….. Also our most amazing Russian encounter has been a Taxi Driver from Volgograd called Vicktor! We had wondered why our stupid satnav was trying to divert us into Ukraine to get to Volgograd when we could see that the M6 from Moscow would take us there! It was trying to make us go 1800miles! Lol! Well, when we got to Volgograd, we saw the most mental lorry restriction sign ever (see attached). Basically we couldn’t drive into Volgograd! Bugger! Ed pulled over in front of the massive restriction sign and then Vicktor spotted us and made eye contact with Ed. Ed got out (Vicktor didn’t speak much English). After about 25 minutes of not understanding each other, Ed agreed to pay Vicktor some Roubles (£25 worth) so we could follow him along the lorry route, through Vologograd, while avoiding the restrictions. He got in his taxi and lo and behold, Vicktor was a saint. He traversed us through Volgograd and we could take in some of the sights, including a giant statue of Mother Russia, and the River Volga itself, which we drove over. It took about 30mins to escape the city, and both of us could never have found that route on our own. Even more lovely, Vicktor took us to a supermarket once we were out of Volgograd, so we could stock up on food before the Kazakh desert. Thanks Vicktor. You were a star. He gave us exuberant hugs and smiles the whole time too. Away from Volgograd we followed the River Volga to Astrakan – it was 260miles of the most desolation I have seen so far. Open landscapes of sandy nothingness, with wispy grass, the occasional tree and a glimpse now and then of the Volga and her tributaries (where there was significantly more greenery or reeds). The towns looked like very poor communities, cows were all over the road (which I loved) and the road was bumpy the majority of the time. We managed to find a decent enough pull-in (where there was a few trees) and later on in the evening a few HGVs joined us for company which was comforting. This was Thursday night. Today (Friday) we made it to Astrakan, which is really quite an affluent place considering the 260 miles of deprivation we witnessed getting here from Volgograd. There is a mixture of Russian and Kazakh features in the faces we have seen, and neither Ed or I, have drawn attention to ourselves walking around. No-one looked at us twice. I have made it to McDonalds to download the blog. Yes they have one…… and it’s the only place we can find wifi, and then Ed and I are going to wander around Astrakan. Tomorrow is Saturday, and we are going to make sure we have full cupboards of food and a full tank of water before we drive to the Kazakh border. We are considering just spending the whole weekend next to the Volga enjoying the sun and ironing out the cricks in our necks before crossing into Kazakhstan on Monday morning. It should hopefully take us 2-3 days to reach the Uzbek border, but it depends on the speed of the border crossing and the roads. All being well, we are hoping to be in Khiva (Uzbekistan) by the end of next week – and finally enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the Silk Road. Hopefully there will be wifi there too. One of the funniest things, is that the bumpy roads made all our milk in the fridge turn to yoghurt! (eeeww). Also I have managed to not wash my hair for at least three days at a time (with the help of dry shampoo), and one day Ed had a button shaped bruise on his bottom because of the roads. We have burned 1,150 litres of diesel so far (and it’s gotten cheaper the further south we have driven; now only 50p a litre!) and so far we think we have covered about 3,300miles (we think) but the KM has broken on the truck unfortunately…. We hope all is well in Blighty. Until the Stans…. Lots of Love Ros & Ed. Roslyn in the Town square (Wroclaw, Poland) Hi there (‘Sveiki’ in Lithuanian). Vilnius calling. Here are the results of the Lithuanian vote: Deutschland douze points, Poland dix points and Lithuania douze points. We haven’t quite made it to Latvia yet… ;p We are actually calling from Vilnius today, the capital of Lithuania, but sadly the Eurovision is not here. What we have been up to - Week 3: After thoroughly enjoying Saxon Switzerland in Germany over the Easter weekend and the Bastei (see in pictures), we finally said goodbye to Deutschland and crossed the border into Poland on Easter Monday. We were a little bit worried that the cops were going to tell us off for driving (an equivalent HGV on a bank holiday), but luckily we didn’t get stopped. We crossed the Polish border around lunchtime and stopped at some Polish services to eat and get some Zloty. Later in the day we made it to Wroclaw (pronounced Rotswov) and parked up next to a supermarket just out of town. Tuesday we explored Wroclaw to soak up some Polish culture. It was a lot bigger than we had anticipated, but we managed to follow our noses to the main Market Square which is the second biggest in Poland. It was very impressive and it looked like they were preparing for an Easter Concert. I wanted to try some Polish Cuisine, so we sat outside one of the restaurants in the Market Square. This was our first ‘eating out’ of the trip so far, so we splashed out and enjoyed some chicken soup with dumplings and desert. We left Wroclaw Tuesday night to an epic thunder storm. The funny thing was, none of the locals were even bothered about it, but the lightening looked like it was right on top of us! It must happen a lot in Wroclaw! Tuesday eve, we travelled up the E67 towards Warsaw, and again all day Wednesday and Thursday we were on the road soaking up the Polish landscape. The soil is really sandy and the E67 cuts through lots of coniferous woods full of deer (but unfortunately I didn’t spy any). For me, the most exciting thing to see were the white storks! There are lots of them combing through the fields in Poland (we think, looking for frogs or worms to eat), but even more charming, they build nests on huge electric poles, or on trees near people’s houses. As we drove north, it seemed every village had it’s own friendly resident stork sat on eggs! They are awesome, especially when they do a fly-by. Love it! Ed says its good luck in Poland to have a stork on your roof. I want to take one home ;p By Thursday lunchtime we crossed the border into Lithuania (the land of lakes). The weather has remained kind to us since the lightening storm in Wroclaw on Tuesday, and sat in Vilnius right now, its 17 degrees and sunny, when the average temperature in April is only supposed to be 10 degrees apparently. After crossing the border yesterday, we followed the A16 to the capital stopping over night at a village called Trakai, which had beautiful lakes and a restored red brick castle. We had a lovely mooch about there last night and were charmed by the Lithuanian for 'Thank You' which is Aaci (pronounced Achoo, like a sneeze!). We parked up in car park last night in Trakai, and this morning drove the final 30km into Vilnius and have treated ourselves to some food. As I write this, I am in Vilnius Town Hall (which looks like a mini St Pauls Cathedral) and Ed is snoozing outside in the sun. He's a bit tired today because some of the Polish roads enroute to Lithuania were quite bumpy and potholed. Thank god for suspension seats! Annoying though, part of the truck exhaust has shaken loose. Ed managed to fix it this morning, and we're hoping it will be ok. From now on however, we'll be looking for a DAF dealership so we can buy the spare part in case it gets loose again. Apart from the exhaust - the truck is holding up well. Only minor disasters. We had a water leak about one week in, the hooks on the back of the door fell off (it was too hot and they were stuck with Velcro) and Ed had to rewire the lights. Also the diesel heater is being temperamental, but it still works thank god. One night was so cold (in the Thurungia Forest in Germany) that we had to leave it on all night! So now, the plan is drive further north-east through Lithuania today and tomorrow, and cross the border into Latvia. Then on Monday, the adventure finally begins as we reach the Russian border..... Potentially we could be there all day on Monday. The plan next week is to drive south through Russia to the Kazakhstan border in 5 days, otherwise we will have to register ourselves as being present in Russia. When we get to Kazakhstan (hopefully a week tomorrow) we shall break out the bubbly! So there maybe some radio silence from us the next week or so, as we are not sure if our phones will work in Russia. We may have to buy a sim card. Similarly, we're not sure about the Wifi situation there either! Hopefully though - Ed will enjoy himself immensely watching the Russian trucks next week, and if the roads are anything like Poland, I'll be thankful for the suspension seats protecting my derrier! Until next time. Love Ros & Ed Happy Easter! It's been harder to find Wifi in Germany than we thought it would be. Today is Good Friday and we are spending Easter in Saxon Switzerland just south-east of Dresden. We are currently about 1.5km from the Czech border and around 100km from the Polish border. Its raining today, and we have managed to procure Wifi in the village of Bad Shandau (see picture attached), which has several cake shops (Konditerei) to keep us both happy. The truck is currently parked in another awesome spot, just by the river. This week, we have had, sun, hail and rain! - so not as hot as last week. We knew it couldn't last forever. Since leaving Konigstein, we drove north-east to Thurungia and spent a couple of days there enjoying the footpaths. The temperature dropped dramatically from a balmy 20 degrees, to about 7 degrees, but we wrapped up warm and enjoyed the scenery around Eisenach and Wurtzburg Castle (Tuesday) before driving through the Saale Valley to our current destination. We have been trying to keep up to date with the news, and Ed's mum (Rosie) has a contact in Eastern Ukraine, so we are waiting to confirm whether or not we should go there at all following the recent skirmishes in the east. We are debating an alternative route, to take us north through Poland, Lithuania and Latvia, as Ed has never visited those countries before (and I definitely haven't!). We will then travel south through Russia and into Kazakhstan as planned. We're hoping to be in Russia within the next 10 days or so. We are hoping to get into Poland in the next few days, so soon we will be saying Auf Wiedersehen to Germany and Dzien Dobry to Poland. Hope your all enjoying the Easter Hols. Lots of Love, Ed & Ros. Ros: Hi there! It's been just over a week since we left the U.K and the weather on the Continent has been superb. We have been really lucky so far, and have found lots of amazing pull-inns and spoken to some really friendly people. After spending two nights by the Rowing lake in Ghent, we headed further south-east through Belgium and stayed overnight in a lovely lay-by, in a stunning limestone valley with some 'Grottes' (caves) nearby. We turned down a lay-by near the Grottes, but decided against it, as there was a dead Wild Boar in the ditch alongside it! Ed said "there's a dead black bear in the ditch", so I looked over his shoulder and it definately looked like a hog! Quite exciting none-the-less! You don't get road kill like that in Blighty. We didn't make it to the Grottes, but we hiked up the mountain and found a Hermitage built in the mid-1800's by one of Napolean's officers after the war. Even more wonderful up there, we stumbled upon a wild daffodil wood with small tete a tete flowers as far as the eye could see. Very pretty and a place to remember for the future. The town was called Han s/Lesse and was our last overnight stop in Belgium on Monday 7th April. By Tuesday we crossed the border into Luxembourg, and about an hour later, we were in Germany and heading for the Mosel Valley which promised wine (Riesling), magnificent views and oldie-worldy villages with hill-top castles. We weren't disappointed, and managed to find a brilliant lay-by in a small village called Bernkastel-Kues, where I finally got to practice my German, procuring Riesling and Apfel Strudel while Ed was snoozing in the truck. My pronunciation of 'Riesling' was corrected by an old German lady, which amused me greatly. I love zee Germans. Lots and lots of snoozing has been occurring this week by the way. Shameful. Neither of us have been up very early, as Germany is an extra hour ahead, and the start of British Summer Time not long before we left the U.K has confused our body clocks..... (this excuse is starting to wear thing, but we're sticking to it). The Mosel Valley is wonderful. The rocks look like north Wales (shale), which are dark brown, bronze, through to pink, but unlike North Wales, the slopes are literally covered in vines. There's not square-inch of free space, and some of the slopes are so steep, that there are chair lifts to aid the custodians of the grape. There are so many stunning villages along the River. Our second night was spent in a small town called Ediger-Eller, and our third in Hatzenport. A highlight so far was on Friday, where we walked 13 miles (round-trip) to an amazing castle (Burg-Eltz) in the Eltz Valley from Hatzenport (see picture attached). It was a beautiful walk and fantastic to finally stretch the old legs. That morning, a German cyclist stopped to speak to Ed. 'Do you need any help?' he enquired (Ed must have looked lost, or the German chap just wanted to chat). Ed asked him how far to the castle, and we were given perfect directions. We thought how nice zee Germans were. Also lots of truck compliments have been showered so far. It was so mild one evening that Ed got out his Ukranian Petrol Stove and he cooked sausages outside. Ed was very pleased with himself (see uploaded photos... coming soon). Now we are in Konigstein, and being wonderfully looked after by Christine and David, Ed's cousins. We have been treated to the first white asparagus of the season, and this morning I enjoyed some wine tasting (after breakfast)! So a sozzled welsh-girl was roaming Deutschland earlier today. All in all, the trip so far has been very pleasant, but we're holding on to these moments, to get us through the tough bits! The only hardship is lack of hot water! Tomorrow morning we head into central Germany enroute to Thurungia (land of the best German sausages) and then on to Dresden. We're hoping to cross the border into Poland for Easter. Also a special thank you to family for helping us to get late truck parts (and forgotten walking boots to Konigstein). Thank you. xxx Love to everyone back home. Ed & Ros xxx Hi there! We finally got the ferry booked and left the U.K at 10am yesterday morning (Saturday 5th April). Thank you to all our friends and family for coming to say goodbye to us and for all your support - especially over the last few weeks! We got to Calais and drove for an hour or so, before pulling in to the last Aire in France, near the Belgian border. Ed had a well deserved kip (and so did I). Later on in the day, we drove a couple of hours more to Ghent (Belgium). We had a couple of hairy moments when we ended up driving down the tram route (over the tram lines), but managed to park up somewhere. As luck would have it, we spotted a chap locking up his shop, and we stopped to ask him if he knew anywhere nice we could park up for the night. He very kindly told us to follow him in his car, and he led us to an amazing spot by a rowing lake, near the canal which runs into Ghent (see picture about for camping spot No. 1). Day 2 - Now we are in Ghent enjoying the sites! Ros: Prior to the beginning of our trip we had the opportunity to mingle with other intrepid adventurers (past and present) who have completed overland trips of their own at the Ace Cafe in North London on Sunday 23rd March 2014. One such person (Austin Vince) was one of Ed's heroes. Ed had watched Austin and his co-adventurers travel the world via the longest land route by motorcycle, which also took them to Magadan (our final destination). The trip 'Mondo Enduro' was the inspiration for Ed's earlier travels (2001-03) throughout the Balkans in a Blue Mercedes Sprinter (called 'Red', named by Sam and Tracey Wonfor, and never forgetting Rich, and Bones the dog :-). These forays helped pave the way for the predicament we find ourselves in now :-) Ed: Overlanders such as Austin Vince, Ted Simon, Tim Slessor and Eric Edis have been inspirational characters to me over the years and although I sat next to a chap on a plane once who had just bought Ted Simon's helmet at an auction, I hadn't met any of them. My time to meet Mr Vince was a real treat, these guys have real spirit and passion to carry them through their adventures.... an important lesson. Ros: As well as meeting Austin Vince, we also had the opportunity to speak to other inspirational people, including Will Wilkins and Kate Macdonell who had rode from Wollongong to Woolwich on motorcycles travelling through Australia, India, Pakistan (Karakoram Highway), China, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Russia and Europe. We purchased their book 'Wollongong to Woolwich' and we're looking forward very much to reading about their adventures. Go to (http://www.wollongongtowoolwich.co.uk/) for more information. Trip updates: We've finally got our Visa Applications for Russia all sorted, and we're hoping to book the ferry for Friday 4th April, so not long to go now until our own very special adventure begins!!! Ros & Ed 25th March 2014 Hiya! We haven't left yet. The planned leaving date is Tuesday 1st April (sorry bro!).... Ed's making the final preparations on the truck, but we've both finished work now, and we will be moving out of our little cottage in Harrietsham on 15th March. We're going to miss Deans Hill, Roger, Sandy, Tony and Hazel, and of course Holly! alot. Bye bye to all Ecologia and RAW folk. We hope you stay in touch. Karaoke night was epic! x Friends and family. We'll be spending lots of time with you before we leave - as we very soon are homeless and need to be well-fed before we set off!. Hopefully coming home next weekend mam. xxxx |
AuthorRos: Both Ed and I will be updating the diary blog as much as possible! WTS. Archives
September 2014
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