The pre-trip shop

We were stupidly, horrendously over-prepared. You don't need this much food. In fact, I'd suggest you don't need any (although I accept a couple of cans in case of emergency is never a bad shout). Amazingly, all countries east of Blighty have shops, and those shops by-and-large have well-stocked shelves, selling pretty much the same basics that we're used to over here. Pasta, sausage, biscuits, bread, cheese, beer - all your standards are at your beck and call. There is absolutely no need to take £90-worth of provisions with you, unless you want to end up delivering some of Mr Heinz's finest to somewhat bemused charity workers in Ulaanbaatar.

Admittedly, looking at it now, there were some educated guesses in there at what might come in handy. The Berocca certainly did, but the Pro Plus didn't. Of course we felt bloody knackered, but relied instead on caffeine based energy drinks like Red Bull, due in part to the added refreshment of a cold fizzy drink in the oppressive heat. Likewise, the Eye Wash seemed genius for getting all that sand and dust out of our eyes - but as it turned out, we never needed it as our sunglasses bore the brunt of the abuse.

Saturday 03 Jul 2010 23:03

Duh duh duh duhhhh! Duh duh duh duh...

by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

The blog title is a vague reference to hair-rock classic "the Final Countdown" by Europe. Yup, a week from now we should be fitfully snoozing in our pop up tent somewhere in Belgium, a day into the adventure. Really mental that it's almost launch. I'm typing this standing at the bus stop in East Dulwich, listening to some posh kids talk about Russell Brand. It's hard to fathom that this epic trip we've endlessly planned, stressed and talked about for almost a year is actually happening. We don't do stuff like this. I've been waiting to get busted for being a fraud since we began. But here we are. Just said my farewells to a couple of mates with the statement "see you on the other side". That's honestly what it feels like - a step into the unknown. Our mighty van is in the garage getting a new cam belt and water filter fitted to ensure we don't break down before Dover. We got a few essentials for camping today and are on car detail tomorrow, but for the first time in months I'm calm and positive about the road ahead. We're actually doing this. It's going to be amazing.

By rights, we should have been organised enough to make it to my friend Sandra's wedding on the 3rd of July, but it became apparent by around March that it wasn't really going to be an option. As it was, the Saturday was spent running around buying even more basics for the road ahead - food, more camping gear, other bits and pieces on our checklist, whilst on the Sunday I became rooted in Halfords as I stocked up on spare bulbs, fuses, tyreweld, k-seal, radweld - you name it, if it was possible to spring a leak or crack on a vehicle, I had some sort of gunk to squirt into it.

The weekend also saw the first of my proper 'bon voyage' pints, with a couple of old mates, Murray & Ally. It's around at this point, a mere week before we left, that it sank in that it was definitely happening and that, what's more, we were reasonably well-prepared. My mental checklist had been getting reviewed and revised repeatedly for months and it was only at this point I began to realise that the key issues were sorted, the visas were in our passports, the tickets to the continent were booked and we were set to depart no matter what.

My crash course in vehicle maintenance had flagged up that the cam belt was the single most potentially fatal failure an engine could have (running out of oil potentially excepted) due to the damage the thing can do if it snaps when you're tanking it at 85 down the autobahn. Enquiries had got us nowhere regarding when, if ever, it had last been replaced, so we took the tough but sensible decision to get it changed before departure. The inspection by Dragan, our friendly Macedonian mechanic, had also flagged that the brakes needed fixing - again we agreed. It stung our already meagre budget for £400, but meant that at least we had taken pre-emptive action as far as we could - if we ground to a halt before we got out of Europe it wouldn't be because we'd overlooked or ignored a basic fundamental of vehicle preparation.

The countdown to departure was well and truly on.

The final few weeks before launch

I was repeatedly amazed in the build up to the rally at how quickly timed passed. I know it's a bit of a cliche that 'time flies' and all that, but from around March onwards it seemed that every available weekend would be jam-packed with "things to do" to make sure we were ready for the off.

That said, looking back now at exactly when we got the various things on our 'to do' list ticked off, it looks for all the world like we left absolutely everything to the last minute. The final couple of weeks were taken up with trips to Westfield shopping centre to buy inflatable roll mats and other equipment (our aluminium coffee cups proved almost as invaluable as the roll mats), as well as a remarkable amount of Ebaying and, err, Amazoning from the comfort of the pub. Technology truly has come on in leaps and bounds in recent years, and there was a steady stream of equipment - a trangia stove, battery inverter, sand ladders, jerry cans, molegrips and multitools - dropping through the letterbox as we edged closer to departure, courtesy of one-click ordering over a pint of ale in the Prince Regent in Herne Hill.

I also took further advantage of my boss's good nature to spend more time in the leafy environs of west London, finally securing our Uzbekistan visas with days to spare.