Today we left Ulaanbatar, as in we actually left Ulaanbaatar, then we left the rest of Mongolia as well, which could only mean one thing - we were going to drive home. We had always said we were going to, it would be cheaper and mean more adventuring could be had, but now we had driven all the way here I quietly felt like just flying home, it would be easier and quicker - we're currently home, and I can definitely tell you I'm glad we set off to drive home. The morning's breakfast was a lonely affair, the majority of the convoy had left and now we were left with just The Mongoliers. Not that we don't enjoy their company, it just would have been nice for the others to wave us off. After breakfast I poured three litres of oil into the car, the engine not the seating area, then we reorganised the car in an attempt to fit all the things we had claimed at the finish line. By the end of our attempt the car was better packed than it had ever been. If we had packed like this in the first place we wouldn't have needed the roofbox, but then again desert sledging would have been alot more painful without our roofbox to ride on. We checked out our room and headed up stairs to say goodbye to The Mongoliers. The goodbye was awkward, not because of things left unsaid or a hug which lasted too long, but because they were all naked when it happened. For some reason they hadn't got dressed after their shower, I will let you assume it was a group shower, so were lounging around in wrapped in towels. Like The Lion Boys, I'm sure we will see them in the UK to deliver some of the things we have generously shipped across the world for them. They were flying home tomorrow, so were just going to relax in the hotel and do some last minute shopping for the rest of the day.

 

We set off for the long uneventful drive home, mere metres from the hotel the drive home became eventful when I crashed into a Mongolian man's car. The traffic was heavy as we waited patiently in the queue for the traffic lights. Close to the lights a car tried to force its way in front of me into the queue. While he was doing this the traffic was moving as the lights went green, I had seen him attempting to merge and begun to leave room. That is when the lights changed to red and the cars in front of him stopped, which meant he stopped, but unfortunately I couldn't tell because he didn't have break lights on the side of his car. It was the slowest and unexciting crash the rally had ever seen, there wasn't even a flipped car or any explosions - all that happened was I drove slowly into the side of his rear-bumper, leaving a large crack in his bodywork. He must have felt the impact because he stopped to get out. I got out and instantly blamed him for attempting to squeeze into such a small space with no warning, of course I skipped over the fact that I drove into the back of his car. He inspected the damage to his car but I didn't bothering looking at ours, it couldn't possibly be worse than any of the damage we had already inflicted on our poor car. Once he had finished debating the cost of damage he came over to talk to me again. He said if I gave him 20,000 tugrik he would ignore the damage. Even though he was asking for all of about £7, I kept insisting it was his fault. Oddly enough he disagreed with my opinion but I wasn't giving him any money. We had bought insurance at the border so I showed him the paperwork and said he was welcome to take down the details, I don't really care about my Mongolian no claims discount and they would hopefully cover his repair - a repair that 20,000 wouldn't even come close to fixing. He looked at the paper and contemplated my offer but ultimately declined, and returned to his demands for £7. Chris, who had been sitting in the car laughing, helpful suggested he gave us 20,000 for the damage to our car but he just looked confused and tried asking Chris for 20,000 instead. This is when a policeman came over to investigate the commotion. The Mongolians talked amongst themselves for a while until I interrupted to tell the officer that this man had crashed into us and indicated I was asking him to take my insurance details. They talked amongst themselves again until the officer pointed at the rally logo on our bonnet, clearly saying he wouldn't get anything from someone on the Mongol Rally. Eventually the policeman told the Mongolian to take down my insurance details or leave - he chose the latter and vanished into the traffic jam from where he came.  

 

The remainder of the drive out of Ulaanbaatar was entirely traffic jam but it was a more uneventful form. The Adventurists had told people on the rally that if we had any doubts in our cars ability to make it to Ulaanbaatar we should use the Northern Border as it was the shortest route and entirely tar-mac. What they didn't say was the road was one massive pothole and at times completely vanished. We stopped only to fall back into our pre-convoy routine and picked up snacks instead of lunch, then dodged potholes until the road ran out. What followed was worse than any off-roading we had done on the longer western route. Luckily we had driven the longer route so were well trained for encountering this challenge. The tracks were muddy in parts, sandy in others, with a constant theme of large holes and rocks. In a way it was like the rally was giving one last farewell before the complete transition to paved roads all the way home. Now we didn't have the convoy to encourage our reckless playful side we managed to make it back onto the main road without any mechanical issues. As we approached the last roads out of Mongolia we spotted a late team heading the opposite way towards finish line.

 

At the entrance to Mongolia we were given a stamped slip of paper which The Adventurists said was vitally important if we ever wanted to leave Mongolia. At the exit of Mongolia no one remotely cared about our slip of paper, they had their own that they wanted to stamp. We went to the first desk inside the border crossing and the man gave us a slip of paper with three boxes printed on it. It was the same fun game as the Turkish border, there were three mysterious stamps to collect. After he took some details about the car he stamped the first box and sent us onwards to the next desk. At the second desk the man stamped the slip in a suitably incorrect way. It looked perfect to me, there was a stamp in the 2nd box, but im not fully trained in the art of border guarding so clearly I was never going to spot the issue. Luckily the two men at the final desk spotted the glaring error immediately and called the 2nd man over to laugh directly in his poorly-stamping face. They tossed the paper slip back at him and he led me away for a tour of the building, this was probably so they could slip Chris his final cavity search of the trip. His tour guiding ability was about as good as his stamping ability, he hardly described anything as he led me through the back corridors. There wasn't even a gift shop at the end of the tour, he just got me a new slip and stamped that three times instead. Then we were free to leave Mongolia, free to leave 5 cars at a time. Chris was waiting by the car with a man who looked like he might search it after he finished sitting in the sun for an hour. We waited by the car hoping he would come over soon to search any of the cars collecting in the search bay. We watched as his seat was slowly covered by the shade, then we watched as he moved seat to one in a new ray of sunlight. Eventually I plucked up the courage to interrupt his sunbathing and asked what was going on. He held up his hand and pointed to the gate, while a second man clarified by holding up his hand, pointing at his fingers one at a time then to the cars individually, then at the gate - which I suppose might have meant he was going to cut off his fingers and place them in 5 cars before we could enter Russia, that or there was only space for 5 cars at the Russian crossing.

 

To kill time I went to the fast food resteraunt a sign told me was in the basement. I never found the fast food but I did find an empty restaurant in a family’s basement dwelling. The choice was huge, I could have one of three items: Pepsi, Pepsi or Pepsi, so I chose the middle bottle and went back to the car. Finally the Russian gate swung open and welcomed in the 5 cars waiting at the last Mongolian check-point. The Russians entering Mongolia, entering officially and legally through the border crossing, weren't a patient. We weren't originally looking at the entrance gate, but we definitely were when we heard a loud crashing sound and saw a Russian lorry plowing through the fence. Everyone went to gawk at the mess, everyone apart from the border guards who didn't seem interested or concerned in the slightest, almost like this happens everyday. The truck driver calmly inspected the damage then drove off, almost like this happens everyday. It is quite normal for border stations to have a few guard/sniffer dogs around, and this one was no different. A large Alsatian was milling around the cars when it came and stood near our car. I called it over and gave it one of the biscuits we had in the glove box. Once it had that taste of its first biscuit it never left our side. We sat in the car with the doors open until an Alsatian shaped head peered inside. We tried sitting in the car with the doors closed, but the head appeared through the window. I accepted our fate of imprisonment for drug trafficking and fed it some more biscuits. The young border guard came over to the car to see what the dog was doing. He stood staring at us until I not so subtly slipped the dog another biscuit, he laughed and begun chatting - and that is how we snuck 1000kg of cocaine through the Mongolian border without raising suspicion.

 

The entry into Russia was less straightforward and we met resistance at the first hurdle, resistance in the form of our faces. When we approached the first shed at the border, the shed in which they check your passport, the woman inside simply refused to believe we were actually ourselves. She had taken our passports with a smile, but her smile faded as she flicked through my passport, then faded more as she flicked through Chris'. After a few tense minutes she began calling someone on her phone and talking in Russian. She showed our passports to another gaurd and they discussed their next move. Luckily we avoided being taken to an interrogation room, but she carefully read every detail on our passports. Then she found our Iranian visas, the only other page in my passport with my face on it. She compared every detail with the main page, and flipped between the two comparing photos. Once she had committed Stephen Barcroft's face to her memory, she called me over to stare at my face. We stood in a tense staring contest for a few minutes until the situation became too humorous for me and I let out a laugh. She did not appreciate how funny this was, held a finger to her lips, let out a loud shhh, and straightened my head. Of course this only made things funnier as we continued our staring contest, until she blinked and I won my entry to Russia. Chris was then treated to exactly the same procedure but couldn't keep his composure as well as I had, and began laughing immediately. Their staring contest continued without a clear winner for a long time, so she switched tactic and gave him a quiz instead - "what is your name?". Luckily Chris could correctly remember/pronounce his name and we were allowed to move onwards to the actual security checkpoint.

 

At the search point we watched as the guards search every item from the car in front, and debated how long it would take for our car. After completing my customs paperwork we found out. The guard asked us to open the boot and saw the huge pile of bags inside, they sighed and then told us to close the boot. Once we were finally inside Russia for the second time we drove until it began to go dark, which wasn't long considering the length of our staring contests. The roads were quiet and the landscape devoid of human life so we took a random turn onto a dirt track. We drove until we were far enough from the main road to reattempt our first ever solo wild camp.