The rain did not stop last night, if anything it got angry at our attempts to shelter from it. Most things we used last night are now well and truly damp. After taking another hobo shower - this time no one was awake to let us use the showers - we carried on our journey towards Munich and headed in for a look around, it was pretty uneventful because we spent most of it in traffic and didn't get out the car. The only thing we learnt from our trip into Munich was I still roughly know my way around.

 

After an uneventful drive to Munich, and an uneventful drive around Munich we settled in for an uneventful drive to Vienna. We made it into Austria before needing to venture off from the motorway to get petrol. The GPS led us up into the mountains to a petrol station a few miles from the motorway. The Shell garage was in a stereotypically beautiful little alpine village in a stunning alpy landscape. On the drive back from the petrol station I was too busy looking at the landscape and listening to Chris complain about needing the toilet, that I completely forgot to look at my note and drove on the left. The reminder that I needed was the oncoming car coming over the crest of the hill, so I tested my reaction speed and managed to get back on the right side (both terminologies apply) quickly enough to avoid becoming a statistic. Needless to say Chris and the other driver suddenly didn't need the toilet anymore.

 

Back on the road (and the right side) we continued our uneventful drive to Vienna, and repeated the uneventful trip into town just like we had done in Munich.

 

Since we were making good time we pushed on into Slovakia. Within a few minutes of arriving in Slovakia we hit traffic and two guys pulled up and gestured for me to roll down my window. Obviously this is the start of a horror story about how we were murdered in heavy Slovakian traffic, or so my thoughts would suggest. I wound down the window to greet my would-be murder, to be met by a heavy "Irish" accent; He asked "Watchu doin wit dat car?", driving mainly; but not to anger my murderer I just explained that we were driving to Mongolia with it. This response clearly didn't affect the man's reply, after all there is no time for pleasantries in business transactions. He quickly asked if we would sell the car to him - it seems having a slick sticker job and big van tyres instantly adds to the value of a 10 year old 1 litre car, so that you too can be accosted by strangers in traffic jams by following our lead. Unfortunately I thought SMA might be a bit annoyed if we sold the car as soon as we hit Europe, and I didn't fancy the thought of walking to Mongolia, so I respectfully declined his offer. Just like that he waved good bye and rode off into the sunset.

 

After successfully avoiding being killed for our car we were feeling confident as we approached Bratislava and decided to ignore the calls from local campsites and try our hand at wild camping in the rain - what were we even paying them for? So we took the next exit off the motorway and spent a while driving around looking for that camping sweet spot. That is when I had a brilliant idea. Who needs forethought when you can have stupidity. There were roads leading off through the fields with a patch of trees not too far down the path. So off we went like the bold explorers we are, with Chris at the helm and our sump guard fully earning its keep. The gravelly path lead us towards the trees without really hinting at what was lurking inside.

 

Once reaching the trees Chris doubled down on our bad decision making for the day, and suggested we head further into the trees to avoid being spotted from the road. This seemed a good idea at the time so on we went, not being ones to be deterred or consider how we were going to get ourselves out of this hole we were digging we kept going as the gravel turned to mud. Only once we reached a rock that we couldn't mount without tearing off our sump we admitted defeat, this is when we realised what a fine mess we had gotten ourselves into. With the wheels on the car spinning without gaining traction on the mud we stopped to consider our options. We were well and truly stuck in a rainy forest in the middle of nowhere as night-time approached. We quickly came up with a plan, keep trying and hope for the best, swapping seats so I drove and Chris pushed/rocked the car. After a spraying mud all over Chris, the car and the forest I finally got the car moving backwards only to quickly get stuck in mud again a metre back up the road. We repeated the process in all directions over a few minutes until we had the car in the bushes, but at least we were free from the mud. After a quick video of our escapades I pelted it back to the main road, the mud can't catch us if we have the element of surprise. The car is looking the part now with its new muddy paint job, no-one offered to buy the car as we fled Slovakia for a campsite in Hungary. Eight euros seems to be the price for not dying in the woods.