Parcel from Mongolia, catching up with ‘Peking to Paris’ & a speedily border crossing, 21.9.-23.9.2010

To thank our dear friend Borut for all his efforts we wanted to send him a bottle of Ghinggis Gold, arguably the best Mongolian vodka. Hence we packed a parcel and went to the post office. However, before sending a parcel overseas you have to get it through customs, I guess they want to make sure that you do not send out any antiquities or petrified dinosaur eggs and the like. So next morning saw us at the customs office and where we again had to face Mongolian officialdom. First of all there was nobody in the office so we went upstairs and were told that customs inspector was situated downstairs, we checked again and then went up once more to tell the officers that there was no one. A phone call was made and then another one and after much talking we were told somebody would be down soon. About 5 minutes later a group of young women came in (we don’t know from where, I’d say a meeting, Holger suggested a coffee shop) and the door was opened. We showed our parcel and after inspection every corner was meticulously plastered with scotch tape. An official looking woman in a uniform arrived and asked us about our journey, the contents of the parcel and the receiver’s address and translated the information while another lady wrote these details in a book. All this happened with much giggling and good humored joking around. We were told that it would take a little while and I had to sign the book and we spoke a bit more about our travels to the lady in uniform. After some more waiting the door suddenly threw open and a guy burst in, rushing to a cabinet with a key in his hands, took out a briefcase and – tatarattata – the stamp appeared which was the missing bit we still needed. Guy disappeared in a flash and we were good to go to the post office again, which by now was of course closed for lunch break ;o)

We went to have lunch at the small eatery again and farewelled Arnauld and Gregore who were also having lunch there as well. They also intended to leave for the border that day but would presumably arrive a day later. After finally delivering the parcel to the post office we could leave Oelgyi. When leaving the town we saw an oldtimer with a large sticker ‘Rallye Peking to Paris’ on its sides and also a start number, we got excited and hoped to see him again later.

The road to the border point was paved for some k’s and we enjoyed the sound of asphalt under our wheels. Once the asphalt ended we drove over a pass which brought us up to about 2600m and enabled us to see some more of the Altai mountains in their full glory, quite spectacular actually. There was a huge ovoo and for a last time I did an Ovoo-Walk and offered some of the small money I had left :o)

Sad moment, our last pass in Mongolia :o(

We passed Tsagaanuur, a scruffy windswept border town and headed further East. Given our experience when entering Mongolia we wanted to be at the border as early as possible and wanted to camp simply a few k’s before the checkpoints. But, as on so many occasions before, we were again surprised. Probably 10k’s before the border we saw some more Oldtimer and also a camp where more were parked and constantly arriving.

WOW- No way we would pass that possibility on! We asked the officials who were timing the participants' arrival if we could have a look around and they were happy to let us in. On the way into the camp some flags marked the way but there were also some which indicated where there were muddy spots better not to be driven through – well, how on earth were we supposed to know that!?! We found out the hard way and while the cars from early 1900s kept on passing by we were trying to dig our good ole’ 1984 4x4 Landcruiser out and after getting nowhere for a while gladly excepted the offer of one of the guys from the support team to pull us out (we would have gotten us out eventually but it felt a bit stupid to start a big rescue mission while help was so readily available). The guy belonged to the support crew and his job was solely to pull cars out, he had all the gear readily available and told us he had used it that day already… Needless to say that Holgi was furious (not to say embarrassed) but by now shares my opinion that it makes for an excellent story :o)

Walking around the camp was fun, all those beautiful old vehicles, the buzzing atmosphere and the sound of cursing men trying to fix mechanical or electric issues – Ah, the sound of a racetrack, how had I missed it ;o) Holgi quickly started chatting to the (mostly) guys about their machines and the rallye. 100+ vehicles had started 11 days ago in Bejing and were now making their way to Paris through China, Mongolia, Russia, the Middle East and Europe, to reach Paris after altogether 35 or so days of racing.

This is the Itala from 1907.

Aaaah, oooh a Bentley

The Aston Martin :o), yeah!

Many people were setting up their tents and more cars kep on arriving. Holger particularly admired an Itala (pre-1910) which did neither have a roof nor a windscreen and an Aston Martin, slightly modified for off road use. Most drivers’ were happy to have a chat and tell us about their adventures and their motor situation, everybody was very excite and cheery.

There was, however, a slight difference in between their travel experience and our travel experience. They hardly had any contact with Mongolian people nor did they have time for decent stops, at least in case they were seriously competing. They had a support crew with 5 mechanical teams and several organization vans, they had a paramedic and in every country heaps of ‘fixers’. To participate apparently 35000 British Pounds starting fee are needed per party + all the additional costs for getting the vehicles there, not to mention getting the actual vehicles in shape (several vintage Bentleys, Rolls Royce, etc), the whole event had ‘Big Money’ written all over it. In Mongolia ‘Nomads’ a well established tour operator had deployed two teams of large 4x4 busses and trucks carrying numerous staff, generators and supplies to each stop. The Mongols also dug out toilets, set up a canteen with a kitchen and cooks and installed showers. So much effort and comfort – unbelievable! It was a bit sad, though, to hear some (uppity) drivers complain about warm beer or the temperature of the showers and such petty things. Unfortunately they had had some not so good experiences in UB where some participants became victims of pick-pocketing and this had tainted their experience of Mongolia and their opinion of Mongolian people. It sounded as if they were travelling in their own little rally-bubble, but then again not everybody is able to drive 300ks in Mongolia in one day in an oldtimer (let alone one without a windscreen) and after all is was a race not traveling.

The rally also wanted to cross the border next day which had our inner alarm clocks shrill, even though they might have had all the paperwork together for the large party we did not really want to have to wait with about 120 odd vehicles at the border, given our previous experiences with Mongolian officialdom. Hence we decided to rock up real early and camped about 5k's from the border, our last night in Mongolia, sniff...

After a really cold night (apparently it went down to -12 (!) degree and the car windows were again frozen from the inside) ...

... we were at the border at about 7ish, only two cars of the rally-organization had beat us. Unfortunately we had to wait until 9 for the border to open – not so much fun when it’s below 0 degree and you do not have a stand-heating… Anyway, we were there & we were in front of the pack! Turns out that, as we had expected, the Mongolian officials had problems with grasping the situation and it was obviously very confusing for them that yes, we were international travelers but no, we were not part of the rally, sigh! It took some time to get that sorted although I still cannot see how they could overlook the fact that we did not have a meter-high starting number in black on the car (or any other stickers indicating our participation). What made me even a bit angrier was when one of the rallye-guys became a bit pushy and kind of jumped the queue so to speak which confused the customs guy even more, he mixed up the papers and clearly was unsure how to proceed. This was a bit of a nuisance, this particular officer held tight to Holger’s passport and was running around the compound with me, of course, following suit because of the passport, aarghh!!! Anyway after repeatedly pointing out to the customs officer in question (Njet Rallye!!!) that we were not part of the rally and some support from the other non-pushy rally people we eventually got the guy to check our car and let us go through passport control the final hurdle… We then drove through some no-man’s land and finally reached Tashanta and without any problems entered Russia again. This was all very turbulent but it took only 2.5 hours – Hoorayh, we were in Russia!

The next few hours were fantastic, we drove through the Altai Mountains on paved roads – what a treat!

The area was so impressive that it is hard to put it in words: The mountains are so massive, you can see snow capped mountains all along the way, the road is winding around mountains and going over steep passes or through scenic valleys, often following fast flowing rivers, all is dressed in very bright autumn colors (which was such a change to the bright green Siberia we had left 6 weeks ago), wonderful little villages are snuggling in valleys, stunning!

For quite some time we were following the Itala which had caught up with is and admired the beautiful machine:

After a stop for Ghulash we saw even more cars and decided to camp along the river to watch more of them passing through. Imitating good ole’ Tour De France- behavior Holger took his folding stool, a yummy beverage and sat on a rock beside the road viewing the cars speeding by and taking heaps of pictures :o)