Launch - Woburn Safari Park

Saturday 10 Jul 2010 11:48

Lost already. Found ourselves at...

via SMS by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

Lost already. Found ourselves at the front of the convoy out of woburn safari park. We turned left and everybody else went right. Ended up lost in the country side 5 min into the rally! Back on the m1 now heading for Dover.

Egads. Talk about a farcical start. True to our usual form, we were late getting away from our flat in Brixton, leaving approximately an hour later than we intended.

Due to some issue with getting a licence to hold the event, the launch had been switched from Highbury Fields in north London to Woburn Safari Park in Bedfordshire. This meant we had to drive 50 miles in the wrong direction just to get to the start of the rally. We got stuck in traffic, both on the way through central London and on the M1 itself, and eventually limped into the park an hour late. I guess you could say we'd have been on time if we had left when we were supposed to. It didn't exactly fill us with confidence that we'd make it to Ulaanbaataar in time for our return flight, when we couldn't even get to the outskirts of Luton successfully.

We missed the parade lap through the safari park itself, and as a result had to sit and wait whilst everyone else completed it and lined up next to us for some speeches by a rally veteran (David Treanor, who wrote a very entertaining book about his experiences, "Mission Mongolia") and the charity staff.

My sister came along to wish us safe travels, along with my nieces and nephews, who had provided such wonderful van cleaning assistance when we took Genghis up to Gloucestershire a month earlier. It was great to have family there to see us off, and the sun shone on our excited chatter as we listened to last minute advice from those in the know. Most of all though, after all the build up over the previous 10 months, all we really wanted to do was get going. We were handed a voucher for two free beers should we decided to stop off at the Western Mongolia Campsite in Khovd when we got to Mongolia - and the very thought that they were expecting us to get that far set our pulses racing. We resolved we would stop off there, and savour the beer when it came. It seemed a very long, almost unreachable, way away.

Go Help were making a promotional video of the launch, and as the first klaxon eventually sounded to tell us to make our way to our vehicles, the producer came up to me to ask if I'd mind speaking to camera. I was getting a bit nervous that we should be back in the van and starting to leave, and responded in single-syllable monotone to his questions, upon which he said "err, well, we'll let you get back to your van", before the cameraman had even arrived. One of the things that made me really want to drive to Mongolia was seeing a promo video of the Mongol Rally a few years previously, with excited people wishing a last farewell from their vehicle as they drove off into the sunset on the trip of a lifetime. And there I was, in that same position, only to be too boring for telly. J does make it to the video - sitting with my niece. I was elsewhere at the time, trying to stop my youngest nephew climbing into the hippo enclosure. The producer moved on to All Weasel No Beaver, a couple of immensely cheery & likeable Aussies, and they ended up having probably the starring role in the whole video - they came out with the best line anyway. The clip is below, if you're interested (cos, you know, I'm not. Sniff).

And then! We were off! We trundled from our parking spot behind a beast of an ex-army Land Rover ambulance, only to see it peel off almost immediately and wait for us to drive past. As we later discovered, this was because the film makers wanted to have them say something to camera as they left. We, of course, weren't required and found ourselves at the front of the rally convoy leaving the safari park. So far so good. Then, without warning, the safari park employee who was leading us stopped and waved us past, and we were on our own. We hadn't bothered turning the sat nav on, and as we reached the exit from the park I suddenly realised I hadn't a clue which direction I should be going. Taking a stab in the dark, I wheeled left and hit the open road....... then watched in dismay as every single last one of the other ralliers turned right and disappeared from site. 5 minutes into the rally, and that was the last we'd see of pretty much any of our fellow participants.

No matter. Steppe By Steppe was Go on the 2010 Mongolia Charity Rally!!!

Our fellow ralliers - the last time we'd see any of them

Genghis - resplendent in his livery and raring to go

Team Steppe by Steppe - trying not to look like we're bricking it

The kids check out our amazing equipment packing

The happy trio - relaxed, confident, grimaces in place

Saturday 10 Jul 2010 06:48

sms blogging not working. Sorry...

via SMS with map coords by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

sms blogging not working. Sorry for all the rubbish test posts. T-minus 1 hour to departure!

Well, we woke up on time. Wonders will never cease! I still couldn't work out whether or not the SMS blogging was working or not - as evidenced by my apologies for a post which seemingly had not only appeared on the website, but also plotted our coordinates correctly. I was perhaps a little optimistic to state that it was T-minus 1 hour to departure at 06:48 in the morning, however.

Saturday 10 Jul 2010 00:03

51 27 09:00 06 43 downgraded from...

via SMS by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

51 27 09:00 06 43 downgraded from iphone to shit nokia for the trip so testing the text blogging again. Launch in a matter of hours. I should be in bed.

This blog post was a first attempt to use my basic Nokia to update the website. The numbers are attempted GPS coordinates - putting them in correct format at the beginning of the SMS message would mean that our position was plotted on a map and only the text would appear as the blog post itself. As you can tell, it took me a while to get the hang of it.

SMS was the only means we had of updating the blog between internet cafes en route, as we had decided against taking a laptop. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and it would be top of our list if we do anything similar in the future again.

The reason for my slightly curt & foul mouthed post was alcohol, once again. Friday was spent in a panic - sorting out admin for our absence, tidying the flat, and trying to work out how to pack the van. I shaved my head - partly for hygiene factors (still believing at that point that we'd be wild camping for 90% of the trip), and partly to look more like my passport photo - taken during an ill-advised flirtation with a number one grade cut back in 2001. I didn't want to give the border guards any more excuse to charge me additional 'processing fees' than necessary. It did provide me with an opportunity to try out a mullet haircut, but whilst I thought naively it might make me look more Russian, I didn't have the balls to go through with it.

We had our first reasonably heated exchange during the attempted van packing - we'd not prepared at all and there was no way of getting everything in in a logical, accessible order. Eventually we ended up just sticking everything in a variety of massive cardboard boxes and resolving to 'sort it when we get to Poland'. Thankfully, it was one of the few times we fell out to any extent on the whole trip.

We'd arranged a final couple of beers to send us on our way at the local pub, but time was getting the better of us and as dusk fell I was out in the street desperately trying to apply our sponsor stickers, a map of our route and our all-important logo to the van. An hour late, we rocked up for a final bon voyage with our mates, and were chuffed and embarrassed in equal measure to be applauded, loudly, out of the pub by them, to the bemusement of all the other punters.

We were to be at Woburn Safari Park, the revised launch location, for 10:00 the following morning for a parade through the enclosures and the launch itself, and far too late we went to bed in our flat for a final time, for a few fitful hours' sleep.

Last day at work and fears for the future

I still remember the way my stomach churned every time I allowed myself to think about what was about to begin, during that last day at work.

I was pretty terrified, if I'm honest. I had no idea what the next 5 weeks was to hold. We'd done our research and prepared as best we could - I felt more like an overland traveller than a charity rallier (of course, you should really prepare as the former if you want to do the latter responsibly). But two nagging fears kept bouncing around my mind. 

In the research I'd done into previous rallies and the conversations I'd had with various people, traffic cops & border guards were invariably made out to be corrupt, sleazy bastards who would take any and every opportunity to bribe you out of some cold hard currency, in return for the most trivial of perceived violations. I'd heard stories about them even going so far as to drag people back to the station and show them the cells, the intimation being that that is where they would be spending the foreseeable future if they didn't play the game. What's more, they were rumoured to radio their mates further down the road once they'd tapped you up, meaning you could be stopped repeatedly on the same stretch of road and do nothing about it. 

Many of the veterans laughed this challenge off as almost a highlight of the trip; war stories were forever being swapped about how teams had talked, sped or otherwise wangled their way out of fines, or negotiated their way down from $500 to £5 and a packet of Rich Tea biscuits. Sometimes it took hours to wait for the local cop to get bored enough to start bargaining.

I'm not the sort of person who is good at this sort of stuff. And I was travelling with my girlfriend, so I didn't want to put us in the situation where we were bankrupt by the end of the first week - we had, by our frankly finger-in-the-air calculations, just about enough money to get us to UB and back as long as we had no unforeseen expense. But I became convinced that everywhere east of the EU was swarming with bent coppers just waiting for some fresh Western meat to cruise over the horizon. It was a source of significant concern, and one which I tried to hide from my co-pilot.

Secondly, despite the extensive planning & preparation we put into the trip, I overlooked one thing - vaccinations. You may think this is possibly the most important thing to remember, along with visas to get into the various countries. And you'd be right. My problem was that I'd read the advice on the NHS website, and all suggested certain jabs were 'recommended' for the countries we were going to. None were 'required'. This, to me, suggested it was a good idea to get them if you wanted to ensure you were definitely ok, but it wasn't really a big deal.

It was only when I re-read the information a fortnight before departure that I discovered 'required' only applied to vaccinations you had to prove you had had to be allowed entry to a particular country. 'Recommended' shots covered pretty much everything else you had a chance of catching whilst there, irrespective of severity. Of course, with 14 days until the off, it was too late to do anything about it, so when I wasn't stressing about the local constabulary, I was trying to work out how to avoid dogs (rabies) and trees (tick-borne encephalitis) for the entirety of our trip.

We had another session of drinks in the Regent with some of J's mates on the Thursday night, when we also received our van livery from our friend Wojtek. We couldn't afford proper stickers, so he printed them on high quality shiny paper, and they looked amazing. The only thing they weren't was waterproof. He also made us a selection of Gogol Bordello cds for the journey, my favourite band - and as it turned out these were pretty much the only music we took with us, alongside another CD made for us by J's friend Alex. It provided the anthems of our trip, and several of the songs still make us well up even now when we hear them.

Work was finished, Friday was upon us and beyond that..... the rally.

Thursday 08 Jul 2010 20:03

No going back now

We've reached tipping point - there's no going back now. Justyna and I had our last day at work today - deciding we owed it to ourselves to have at least a full day to try and sort out the van prior to departure.

I spent the day focussed on work - partially because I'd a load to sort before I left, but also because every time I nipped outside for a fag, my stomach contorted itself into knots. Whether it's with nervousness or excitement, I can't tell. It's no doubt a bit of both - the best way I can describe it is that it feels like I am on my way to an interview for my dream job; the one that will not only set me up for life, but the one that will let me finally pursue my lifelong ambition. Not only that, a job I know I can do well at.

It's the disturbing combination of not daring to imagine how amazing things will be if it works out, but the nagging thought at the back of my mind of how shit it will be if it doesn't.

No matter. The time for painful self-analysis is over. It's all us, the kangoo, the road and the experience of a lifetime now. The most important decision I have to make in the next 36 hours is whether we should sacrifice a few hundred miles right at the start of the rally so we can stay in Holland for the World Cup Final on Sunday.

The future's bright.....

Mike & the art of Kangoo maintenance

 Apart from enthusiasm, we didn't have too much in the way of qualifications to suggest it was wise to drive a quarter of the way 'round the world on our own.

My language skills extend, loosely, to English (although, unbeknownst to us prior to departure, J's Polish mother tongue helped us out of more than one tight spot); we were pretty much skint until a last ditch loan application came through; and we had the combined total of bugger all experience or knowledge when it came to vehicle repair (or even maintenance).

In the Railway pub in Tulse Hill a few months before departure, I witnessed a friend almost literally fall off his chair when I told him we were essentially just hoping for the best when it came to repairing the car. It didn't exactly increase my confidence that I wasn't plunging myself and my girlfriend into unknown peril, but I'd already rationalised the situation in my head - if only to stop myself panicking and calling the whole thing off.

My original plan had been to undertake some sort of car maintenance evening class at the local college. A bit of investigation indicated that it was far from cheap, and in the time I had available it was clear we wouldn't get much beyond being able to undertake pre-MOT checks. This left a whole world of potential issues which I still wouldn't know anything about, and I figured that the types of calamity which were likely to befall us in the middle of Mongolia would be unrelated to needing to change an indicator bulb. I was also clinging to a half-remembered quote from one of the conference calls with rally organisers, who were adamant that "every village once you leave the EU has a bloke who can fix any problem with a coat hanger and some twine". Nevertheless, I was worried at my complete lack of understanding of even the coarser workings of our Renault Kangoo.

This was where my sister's mate Mike attained legendary status. The pages of notes to the left are my desperate scribbles as Mike gave the van the once over and rolled out a stream of advice for life on the road. Not only is he a mechanic, if I remember correctly he'd taken supply trucks down to Bosnia in the 90s after the civil war, so had experience of overlanding in harsh conditions.

The advice was exactly what was needed - how to drive through water, how to stop the engine getting clogged up with dust, the button to press if the engine cuts out, the easiest way to repair a puncture, and - most importantly - he uttered the words "sump guard".

I'd never heard of a sump guard before. Mike explained it was to protect the oil sump underneath the engine: the precious reservoir of fluid which stops the engine grinding to a halt. A hole or leak in it, and our rally would pretty much definitely be over - especially if we didn't turn the engine off immediately.

It was the one must-spend expense, as far as Mike was concerned - nothing more than some metal bars underneath the front of the van was needed, with enough space to ensure the whole thing didn't heat up too much. But without it our rally could come to an abrupt end.

The other advice scrawled in my spidery handwriting implies that we were prepared for any eventuality:

• Molegrips - for brake pipes - if one gets severed - look where fluid is leaking - crimp pipe over or put molegrips on to stop the flow
• Duct tape - roll of
• DIY Dental kit (we didn't take one - the idea was that if we got tooth ache out in the middle of nowhere, we could do running repairs or at the very least give it to a local dentist to ensure the kit was hygienic. We never tracked one down and thankfully were pain free for the duration).
• 10w40 oil - 5 litres. This was the first time I knew there were different types of oil.
• Cable ties. Always useful for running repairs.
• Gear Box - JB2 - gear linkage - long rod - ask (the mechanic) to show where it is (when we have the van in for its pre-departure service) - can put it in gear manually from underneath (as with the brake pipe advice, the prospect of manually changing gear by crawling under the van in the middle of the steppe seems pretty hardcore, but I believed after speaking to Mike that I'd be able to do it if required. Needs must, and all that).
• Take off stickers on door - Mike was concerned that, despite the engine being a 1.5, the model number on the Kangoo's door implied it should be a 1.7. Mike thought this might lead to problems crossing borders or handing over the vehicle at the end as it might look like the engine had been replaced. As far as I was concerned, the engine matched the V5 and that was good enough for me. The stickers stayed. No one noticed, although given they stop using the latin alphabet once you leave the EU, it's perhaps not surprising that the documents weren't scrutinised too much.
• Tin of K Seal - £8. This was for fixing a leaking....
• Head Gasket - (if we) start using a lot of water - put in (the K Seal) and top up with water - tick over.
• Battery Pack - for jump starting (or jump leads) - electric cooker cable. I think the suggestion here is that cooker cable can act as a cheap alternative to jump leads if necessary. Living in London, I found it much easier to get jump leads rather than cooker cable.
• Sump - put bits of tube across underneath the sump - steel sump guard on the subframe. Stop the oil sump getting damaged. Ah, the sump guard - such a nondescript collection of words when you see them written here, yet it was this that ultimately proved more key to our successful adventure than anything else I can think of.
• Oako - half a bottle - garden centre - puncture repair stuff - foot pump. The other amazing revelation on that June afternoon was that a punctured tyre can be repaired by darning or by pouring liquid rubber into the tyre. I'd envisaged somehow cramming about 5 spare wheels into the back of the van in case of punctures - suddenly all that was needed was a darning kit and a bottle of Oako (we ended up with Holt's tyre weld instead). The tyre weld was always to be used as a last resort, as it is impossible to darn a tyre that has already been fixed with the rubber cement.
• Sump guards - 1/4 inch pipes like a gate (Mike's idea was to have metal tubing forming a protective 'cage' under the engine)
• Park Co - darner for tyres. Still don't know how to spell the name of the product that was discussed here. We ended up with an uber-darning kit from KP Autos, of whom more later.
• Register with the British Embassy re: travel plans. Ah yes, the vaguely unsettling 'just so they know where you are in case a) it all kicks off and they need to evacuate you, or b) you go AWOL and they need to know where to start searching.
• Back of seat tidies - these were suggested by my sister; her former career as Animal Warden for Cotswold District Council had made her something of an expert at ensuring everything useful was to hand in the cab of a small van.
• Mini-hammock - another suggestion for storage, to hang behind the front seats.
• Car boot organiser - again, useful for separating things out (as it turned out we just took massive cardboard boxes - one for food, one for camping gear, one for maintenance paraphernalia).
• Cargo net / luggage net. Much the same as a hammock.
• Driving in Dust - put foam or a pair of tights, or a dust mask, in the air intake - stop (the dust) clogging the air filter. We used foam - you detach the air hose where it enters the engine and shove it in. The foam tended to get shaken out after a while on the more bumpy roads, but it did the job pretty well.
• Driving through water - take air intake off and put on top of engine - can go through up to indicators. As it transpired, the deepest water we went through was only up to the door sills so we never had to do it - but it's a ready made snorkel if you need one.

Wednesday 07 Jul 2010 22:43

"Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads...

by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

I thought the blog title was quite topical, both in terms of the recent hoax that has been doing the rounds and the - shall we say, "path" - that lies ahead.

I must admit that life would potentially be made easier in a flying DeLorean, but given the hassle we've had just trying to find cheap Jerry cans for spare diesel, the thought of running out of plutonium in the middle of Kazakhstan doesn't bear thinking about. Having also checked out a few pictures on Google Earth, finding a nearby bell tower is a remote possibility, never mind a bolt of lightning.

As for any potential problems with the flux capacitor.....well, whilst I have enduring faith in the power of the global village mechanic to fix just about anything (and have in fact built our entire rally maintenance strategy around it), I think even he might struggle to mend Mr Fusion with some baler twine and an old pushchair.

My point is - for all that an admittedly-cramped 1980s sports car might win on looks and aerial ability, we have supreme confidence in our small but mighty Genghis Van, who we picked up from the hospital earlier this evening.

Admittedly we had the same level of supreme confidence before he went in for a service, emerging four days later with £400 worth of repairs to his name (cam belt? brakes? who knew they needed replacing?), but now he's patched up and ready to rock even harder than before. We were talking to the mechanic about the trip and whilst we got the usual half-smile and raised eyebrows, he replied "it's a good van, it should get you there". Said mechanic is a Macedonian called Dragan; if he says so, I believe him.

Last day at work tomorrow and then we have a whole day to get the rest of the stuff we need, work out a plan for packing the van and actually doing so. No time for pimping our ride or even cleaning it, but we have a 'New car smell' Magic Tree that we firmly believe will right all wrongs. 

We also won't have time for organising some of the basics - like memory cards for the camera, music to listen to en route, or mastery of any Russian language whatsoever. It will be hectic, but why change the habit of the past 8 months? Time to put our faith in the Gods of fate and adventure.

I'll try to blog regularly from now on, and to those of you who have recently signed up as supporters - thank you, welcome and I promise my posts will in future be more about the rally, less about semi-obscure Back to the Future references.

Sunday 04 Jul 2010 22:03

We went on an almighty spending...

via SMS by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

We went on an almighty spending spree today, gathering up all the remaining equipment we think we might conceivably need over the next five weeks. Electric cool box, spare bulbs, spare fuses, tyre weld, rad weld, cable ties, a tyre pump, jerry cans, tow rope, mole grips, battery inverter, k seal, multi tool, trangia stove, the list goes on.

The best bit is, thanks to the power of mobile Internet, we got a lot of it whilst having a final pre-rally pint or two in our favourite local pub. Our stickers for the van should be done by Tuesday, our newly cam-belted van by tomorrow. We even spent 90 quid on pasta, tinned curry & couscous, which we plan to eat should the mutton stew get a bit "samey" on the road. We've not yet established if we can take food across international borders - if not we'll have rations for weeks to keep us going when we return, penniless, from the east.

Unexpectedly, I'm starting to feel prepared for this mission a full 5 days in advance! Depending, of course, on the power of the Royal Mail to deliver everything in time.....

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.

Pictures from the training weekend in Yorkshire

Charity Rallies (Charlie, Ryan & Sophie) organised a training weekend for us up near the Castle Howard Estate in Yorkshire towards the end of June. They'd arranged for Sam from the Royal Geographical Society - a man who had led numerous overland expeditions all over the world - to show us some basic hints and tips on surviving (and helping our vehicles survive) in the great outdoors.

It was a great opportunity to meet some of the other teams and learn some new skills - although we didn't do the more strenuous day's off road driving in Genghis as, minus sump guard, we didn't want to risk hitting a rock and having him die on us on the Yorkshire moors, before we even reached Dover. The fact that we didn't even know what a sump guard was until a week beforehand was irrelevant - now we knew what could break and how, we were determined to take steps to avoid it. We did, however, manage to try out our newly purchased pop up tent and folding chairs - part of a camping set promotion in Argos, who I believe (although am not 100% sure) kitted out both Ewan McGregor & Charlie Boorman for their "Long way round", and Roald Amundsen on his trip to the South Pole in 1910.

This was when things started getting properly real - we were able to share preparation tips, discuss lack of sponsorship and see the sort of roads we might encounter in Kazakhstan and beyond. We also got to know our fellow ralliers and the guys from the charity, and it was great to know we were doing it with, and for, such a lovely bunch of people. 

our pop up home for the trip gets its first trial run - Genghis watches on

Genghis lines up alongside Lost In Transit for the photo op

All Weasel No Beaver get a crash course in Ford Ranger maintenance

The view from Charlie's ex-army beast, on the Yorshire moors

Lost in Transit practice towing Darting All over the World out of a ditch

Sam & his Landy show us what real overlanding is all about

Sunday 27 Jun 2010 21:44

Aeroflop

by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

Huge thanks to everyone who came down to the Prince Albert on Friday night. Had a brilliant send off; the 5am finish was testament to how much fun was had! Ended up quaffing champagne at one point thanks to a generous benefactor - it may have put potential sponsors off though, as our fund-raising wasn't particularly successful! We had a great night in any event and it was touching that so many people came out to send us off.

We booked flights back from Ulaanbaatar today so we now know exactly how much time we have to get to Mongolia and when we'll be back in Blighty. Brief excitement as Opodo suggested we could come home for £370 each lasted as long as England's World Cup chances when we tried to buy them - only to be told they were "no longer available". Gutted. We ended up getting the tickets for an extra £200 per person, which has blown a massive hole in our budget. At least we won't be stranded in UB at the end of our adventure!

Thursday 24 Jun 2010 22:34

Home straight

by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

Time for a quick update on a reasonably eventful week in SBS-land. First of all, thanks a million to Charlie, Sophie and Ryan for organising the overlanding weekend up in Yorkshire - got a lot of great advice and was great to meet some of the other teams. I am a little concerned though, as our 500-mile round trip over 2 days meant I was a zombie at work on Monday - which doesn't bode well for the road ahead! 

A quick glance to your left will tell you that we've pretty much hit our fund-raising target! Am amazed and stunned at everyone's generosity - thank you to each and every person who has donated to Go Help. To have one of the major milestones achieved with over 2 weeks still to go beyond our wildest expectations and means we can focus on equipping the van and taking care of the kind of dull admin that is necessary to make sure our bills are paid etc when we're away.

If anyone is in the area tomorrow, we are having a fund-raising / leaving do in the Prince Albert, Coldharbour Lane, Brixton. Hopefully we'll be able to get some more money for the charity and perhaps people might feel able to contribute to some of our petrol expenses as well. Unfortunately, Brixton being the kind of place it is, there is a strong possibility that 75% of the population has buggered off to some music festival in Somerset for the weekend; however given that we are combining our night with the regular and popular Offline club night we're hopeful there may be a few people in through the door.

Finally for now, we appear to have finally got some equipment donated to us! The power of the internet connected me to receptive companies as far afield as Worcester and Manchester who loved what we are doing and have promised us a tyre repair kit and a new wing mirror respectively. I will of course give the relevant people a proper write up once in the very near future, but in the meantime - thank you. You wouldn't believe what a boost your generosity has given us.

Two weeks on Saturday!!!! Waaaah!

Thursday 17 Jun 2010 17:23

Van prep

by Tony Edgar of Steppe By Steppe

Alex washes the roof of the van

We took newly-monikered Ghengis (surname "Van", original I know) on the road for the first time last weekend, up to my sister's house in Gloucestershire to give it a scrub and get some advice on looking after it on the road.

We managed to get the majority of the clay that coated the inside off - a legacy of its previous incarnation working for Justyna's employer, Concept - with the help of two very willing assistants, Alex and Shannon. A huge thanks to them for all their amazing help - a future in car valeting awaits if the whole  'primary school' thing doesn't work out.

Shannon cleans the inside

On Sunday, we had a masterclass in rally car maintenance from local Legend, Mike. I don't have the words to describe how helpful he was - he looked the van over, gave us tips on what to check and fix before departure (installation of a sump guard and replacement cam belt being the two key points) and proceeded to teach us a litany of tricks to help on the road. Just a flavour: 

• protect the air filter in dusty conditions by stuffing the hose with foam
• detach the air hose and place it on top of the engine to be able to drive through water
• press the "big red button" to restart the engine if it cuts out after hitting a nasty pothole
• manually pump the diesel into the engine if you run out and air gets in to the system
• remember fuses, bulbs, and batteries for the key fob - without it the immobiliser will kick in

Chris and Mike fix the back door handle

I stared at him in slack-jawed awe, scribbling furiously onto a pad, and feel 1000 times more confident about the road ahead now. He was even decent enough to give us his mobile number should we get stuck in the wilds of Kazakhstan - fingers crossed we don't need to use it.

The evening ended with a demonstration from Mike and my brother-in-law Chris on puncture repair. We were planning on stocking up on multiple spare wheels but with the magic of darning kits and Oko I think we'll be just fine.

Huge thanks to Mike, Chris, Alex, Shannon, Cameron (for additional sponge-work) and Julie, for all the help and advice. If we make it past Kingston-upon-Thames, you can rest assured it's largely down to you.