GoannaTracks

This blog has moved

2010-04-04T20:50:00.001+10:00

This blog is now located at http://www.blog.goannatracks.com/.
You will be automatically redirected in 30 seconds, or you may click here.

For feed subscribers, please update your feed subscriptions to
http://www.blog.goannatracks.com/feeds/posts/default.

2009 Cape York - Shelburne Bay

2009-09-30T17:47:00.103+10:00

The Snow Fields of Cape York

Sought after by mining companies, National Parks, and conservationists, fought for by the pastoral lease holder, under Native Title land claim by the traditional owners, and locked away from the passing traveller are the most spectacular pure white silica sand dunes in the world. The sand is so pure, so vast and so white that the dunes appear like rolling snowfields.

Situated between Shelburne Bay and Temple Bay on the eastern side of Cape York is one of the least disturbed areas of active parabolic silica sand dune systems in the world. This area is the traditional home of the Wuthathi people, where the warm coastal waters and fringing coral reefs abound with dugong and green turtles. The Wuthathi were seafarers and they spent their lives in and out of outrigger canoes gathering food and other resources from the seas and the sand beach country.

In 1957 Dal Nixon drove his bulldozer from Weipa to a site on the Harmer River and took up a pastoral lease granted to him and his wife Eileen. Later in the 1960’s he used that same dozer to push a track out the Shelburne Beach, and to the silica dunes at White Point, then an access track down to the Olive River.

In the following years prospectors, and naturalists arrived in isolated Shelburne Bay and they were all seeing quite different things in the dunes. The naturalists and ecologists drew up a complex plan for a National Park and conservation groups made the proposal too compelling for the government to bury and economic interests of the miners made it too inconvenient for them to seriously contemplate. This National Park application went on to set a record for being the longest such unacted proposal of its kind.

In 1980 the Bjelke-Petersen government had a very active agenda of northern development that favoured the prospectors and the pastoralists and at one stage even a plan for a space station at nearby Temple Bay. The Queensland government issued numerous mining leases for the silica sand and in 1985 a Japanese conglomerate sort approval for a large scale mine, town, processing plant, and port complete with shipping channel blasted through the most pristine areas of the Great Barrier Reef. On the other side the conservationists were still insisting the area should be a National Park; however nobody ever thought to involve the local indigenous peoples.

At the Mining Warden’s Court on Thursday Island, the Japanese consortium through their powerful legal team stated in court that there were no indigenous people from the Shelburne Bay area as they were all dead. This turned into one of those great moments of Australian courtroom drama. Don Henry, the then co-ordinator of the Wildlife Protection Society, located 70 year old Alick Pablo who was born at Shelbourne and was enslaved on the Japanese pearling luggers. He and other ‘white sands people’ were living at nearby Lockhart River. A couple of days later the doors of the court room swung open and old Pablo walked into the packed room where Henry presented “a live, ticking elder of the Wuthathi people”

“The other side looked as though they had seen a ghost,” said Henry. The QC handed Pablo a map and challenging him to “show us where you are from”. Henry recalls that Pablo “looked down at the map, and up at the QC, and then down at the map and then up again and said “You are a funny fellow. You got the map upside down” before turning it around and putting his finger square on Shelburne Bay.

The Mining Warden took the unprecedented step of recommended strongly against the proposal but a furious Bjelke-Petersen said it would be going ahead anyway. The Wuthathi and conservationists gave up on the state and jointly approached the Hawke government who said the proposal would not have the go-ahead without a Federal export licence or foreign investment approval. So with that the consortium dropped the proposal.

This fight galvanised the resilience of the Wuthathi people and the Wilderness Society into the ‘Save Shelburne’ coalition for further court room battles, because despite the success, the mining leases remained up for renewal until February 2003.

In the midst of all this, in 1999 the State government refused to renew the Nixon’s 45 year old pastoral leasehold. There were very messy claims and counter claims both in the media and in the Supreme Court. Eileen Nixon said the government is “being pushed around by the greenies and the Aborigines” and demanded $1.6 million in compensation for a lease they no longer own. The Nixon's then formally rejected the latest Queensland Government offer of $450 000 in compensation and the creation of a small block around the existing homestead and elected to return to the courts. In April 2002 the situation was made more complicated when Justice Muir of the Supreme Court of Queensland dismissed an application by the Queensland Government to have the former leaseholders of the ‘Shelburne Pastoral Holding’ evicted from the property. It was a small victory in the short term for the Nixon’s.

On a personal side the Nixon’s had suffered. We have been regular visitors to the Shelbourne property since 1991 although most visitors thought of Dal as a cantankerous old fellow, to the extent that for many years, written across the Shelburne Homestead roadside sign was “Cranky old bustard lives here”. However we were always greeted with a smile, handshake and a long yarn about everything including the “bloody no-hopers”. Eileen’s bread was something to enjoy over a cuppa or two in the very basic but clean accommodation.

As the fight progressed Dal became a little thinner and a little crankier. Eileen moved out of the homestead around 1994 and according to Dal “was very busy mixed up fighting those buggers saving the Cape”. By 2005 he had suffered a stroke and was taken from the property and is currently residing in a nursing home in Mareeba. Time was on the side of the opposition and the homestead was just left in the moment. The sink was left stacked with pots and pans, old papers and bottles covered the floor. In his final days at the ‘house’ he was living on a diet of tined camp pie and pears and there were lots of both on the shelves with rust starting to take hold. The outside was a junk yard full of broken stuff. The old lawn mower, well past its used by date in the middle of the chook yard, his Landcruiser ute, the Blitz truck and that dozer was slowly been taken over by the environment.

Back in Brisbane, with the mining leases still open the Wilderness Society and a number of eminent members of the scientific and political community lobbied the government. Finally on the on 24 March 2003, Premier Peter Beattie convened a press conference and announced that the State Government would legislate to protect ‘the pristine sand dunes of Shelburne Bay from mining’.

The twenty year fight was not over for the Wuthathi Tribal Council because they still had to contend with that National Parks application. They and the conservationists were both concerned how the “under-funded” National Parks would not protect the area nor recognise the cultural significance. Lyndon Schneiders, spokesperson for the Wilderness Society said “We can understand the Wuthathi people looking at other poorly funded parks on the Cape and not being impressed” he continued “We think there is a place for a properly funded, Indigenous managed park and here is a great opportunity for the government to get it right. But the bottom line is if the Wuthathi don't want a National Park, we won't support it.” In future, whoever manages this area I do we can all enjoy.

Shelburne Bay is a diverse, complex and unusual landscape that changes as one leaves the Nixon homestead and follows the 80 kilometres of track out to the coast at White point. We had travelled this track many times since 91’, and often we were the only vehicle to have been out there since our previous bi-yearly visit. The track is now so overgrown that on this trip we used quad bikes.

Four bikes, eight people, fuel, water and with gear for a 4 day expedition makes them overloaded. From Bramwell station we followed station tracks for the first 19Km before turning left onto an old shot line that I had GPS marked from maps more than 40 years old. This seismic line connects with Dal’s original bulldozed trail about 6kms south east of the old Nixon residence. More than once we were scouting on foot, retracing our steps, or standing on the quad seat looking for the ‘line’ through the trees.

The country is dominated with open Melaleuca forests and on the ridges Zamia Palms and stands of Swamp Mahogany. With the numerous fallen trees and track finding the first 2 kilometres takes us more than 2 hours. Finally it is more noticeable and we realise we are on Dal’s old trail, not that the either regrowth or fallen trees were any less.

Previous summer fires through the area have turned the regrowth on the track in certain areas to blackened dead wood.

Around midday we are 20kms out when one bike collects one of these dead sticks, spears up underneath and tears off a hydraulic hose.

With a reshuffle of fuel we now have 3 bikes, 8 people and all that gear. Most of the time the track is so encroached with the regrowth that only one side of the two wheel track is visible. The pillion passengers are constantly being wacked by trees as we edge forward, more than often it was quicker and more comfortable just to walk.

About half way out the country changes dramatically into heath land, a dense coverage of low shrubs with Grevilleas, Casuarinas and Melaleucas. This open country is dominated by huge termite colonies that in the sun are like sentinels guarding this pristine landscape.

We cross small sandstone creeks lined with numerous carnivorous plants. The water run crystal clear and tastes sweet.

At 29kms we are back into higher country and the Zamia palms, however with darkness upon us we camp where we stopped. Only too soon, the rain begins to fall and it makes for a rather unpleasant evening.

In the morning most of the quad tyres require a good squirt of air. It is still raining spasmodically however the overhanging branches keep us wet to the bone.

From the top of the final ridge we can see the dune field 15 kilometres to the east. Descending that rather steep ridge we are into the white sand country where the ground is again covered with low heath.

Also we have the added excitement of our first tee-tree swamp. These used to always cause us grief in the 4x4’s however with the bigger footprint of the quads they pose no problem.

By mid-morning we reach and cross the Harmer River. The rain is constant; everything is wet, however we are exhilarated by our surroundings.

The Harmer runs dark red from the tee-tree tannin; this is in striking contrast with the pure white sand banks and the deep green foliage of the Gondwanic conifers.

The vegetation is very difficult to penetrate because of its density however looking within the foliage almost every tree is covered with Cooktown Orchards. At this time of the year their purple flowers abound.

As we enter the dune field proper the seasonally swampy ground is now covered with very low succulent grasses, sun dew and bright yellow flowers. Beside the track are pristine blue lakes surrounded by tall grassy reeds.

The final obstacle before we reach our goal is the razor grass swamp. The swamps extend for about 3 kilometres; fortunately there are some remnants of the track which affords us some breathing space between walls of 3 metre high razor grass. The track itself is covered with tannin water about 150mm deep.

In places the grass has reached in from the sides to the extent that we must push through using the quad as a ram. The grass fights back, slicing our arms. This process continues right to the base of the first big dune.

At 73 kilometres and a day and a half of travelling we reach a small dry platform at the base of a spectacular 100-metre high white dune. These dunes are active and as such the 45 degree slope is loose sand that is slowly encapsulating the undergrowth. Now for the hard foot slog to the top. Zigzagging is the only way; even then you lose one out of every three steps.

At the top we are all breathless both from the climb and the surroundings.Before us are several square kilometres of elongated parabolic pure white dunes rising like snow-clad hills above the surrounding vegetation. Looking east across a vast red tannin lake is the largest dune of all. The whiteness is only marred with the skeletal remains if a once forest of trees that it consumed eons ago.

The dune then drops steeply into the blue-green coastal waters of Shelburne Bay. On the map this is marked as White Point.

The rain is still with us, however the sand is exceptionally pure and so white that it is cool to touch as all transmitted light and heat is reflected. The sand is fine, very fine grained and is recorded at 99% pure silica.

Looking back to the west from the top of the dune we see there are repeated low v-shaped dunes called Gegenwalle ground patterns and are recognised as the best developed and largest in the world. This entire area is unique and one of the few places in coastal tropics where such elongated parabolic dunes are still active.

On a global stage this area is spectacularly beautiful and outstanding in its landform and vegetation diversity yet has remained hidden from the countless Cape York travellers.

The Bramwell outstation/fuel stop does take charter flights over the area however, although impressive does not give one the 360 degree wow factor one gets from the top of these white monoliths.

It will be interesting to see if the Wuthathi governance will allow others access to see and appreciate why they fought so hard and long for the protection of this special place.

Our return trip is just as interesting, all those blackened dead fire burnt sticks are now pointing directly at the oncoming quad radiator. We manage to avoid damage by removing the lids of our food boxes and zip tying them over the radiator grill. Furthermore the tyres need constant topping up, we are running at about 5 PSI so they are soft enough to roll over the stakes but the downside is they constantly leak air at the beads.

Our last camp in Shelburne was on a rise above one of those sandstone creeks. With a water wash to rid ourselves of the days grime, we sat around the fire watching the mist rise from our damp boots and listened to the silence of this magical place.

Herewith the complete picture set, and a link to Google Earth and this beautiful place:
http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/albumMap?uname=GoannaTracks&aid=5430185368843864225#map

2009 Cape York 4 - South from Ussher Point

2009-09-23T20:42:00.002+10:00

South from Ussher Point

Friday 14^th August:

The track to Ussher Point is variable and always interesting. It travels open dry sclerophyll forest, through patches of vine scrub, and over rocky bauxite outcrops. The main track turns north to Sadd Point but we start to cut our way through the very overgrown scrub towards Ussher Point.

In the midst of heavy vine scrub I find the faint track I am looking for. It is only 500metres long but very tight and leads to a magnificent fresh water lake. The final few metres of the track was blocked by a huge paper wasp nest and that took some courage to remove before we had access to our camp site. Here we will leave the vehicles whilst we travel south for 8 days on the quads.

Saturday 15^th August:

We are packed and on our way, this time without the pontoons as with the correct selection of the tide times we should have a favourable run. The drive to the beach was easy on the track in the smaller vehicles. Ussher Point is special to Lyn and I, having spent many adventures north or south from here. We crossed the beach creek which was much deeper than usual and onto the beach and began our trip south.

The eastern Cape York beaches are the dumping ground of the Pacific and always a paradise for beach combing. Soon we come across an old wooden junk burried in the sand and then Paddy finds the wreck of a life boat complete with outboard motor. Around the corner the spectacular bauxite cliffs and fruit bat caves always impress.

Just past the bat caves and just below the high tide mark is the remains of a WWII Aero Cobra. Only the prop tip is exposed and some of the motor, the rest requires some serious digging. We slowly ambled down to Logan Jack Creek where at the mouth was the wreck of an Asian boat, poorly built and garishly coloured. Was this the remains of an attempt of people smuggling?

We walked up Logan Jack amongst the mangroves to where we found the remains of two bird carcasses and a big croc slide. It was time to retreat.

Crossing Logan Jack at full low it was still ½ metre deep, we settled on a camp site in the dunes well above high tide mark. Already we have collected some Nautilus shells for our new grandsons, a ‘magic’ floating rock (pumice) and the start of a shell collection for our two granddaughters.

The wind was very strong as we headed into the evening. Venus was in the sky and with full high tide the beach that was once 300metres wide was now under 3metres of pounding waves lapping at the base of our sand dune camp.

Sunday 16^th August:

It was a terrible night, the strong breeze turned to a forceful gale that blew all night. An early rise was actually welcome, particularly the coffee.

We are ready to travel by 9.30 however the tide will not let us proceed past the next river. Waiting on the banks for the tide to recede suddenly a shout goes out, and what we had thought was a log on the other side stood up and started to walk. It was a two metre crocodile. We could not wait to have a closer look. With pictures taken and the desire to have a closer and closer look, finally our croc visitation ended as the he had had enough, stood up and moved away as fast as he could.

During high tide, Orford Bay is a vast sea; with the tide out it is a desert - such a contrast. Once on the other side we were exploring some rock pools and snacking on large black lip oysters when Lyn noticed another smaller crocodile in one of the pools that we were walking through.

With the incoming tide we called it a day and camped again in the dunes above a rock platform. The spot was ideal because fresh water soaked out above the rock allowing us a beach wash.

Our beach collection today included a large glass fishing float (Greg & Sue), a smaller glass float, more nautilus shells, and plenty of sightings of broken canoes.

Monday 17^th August:

We explored another bat cave as we waited for the tide to recede allowing travel south past the rocky headland. Walking and riding the quad at walking pace allows good exploration of the beach. Around the headland at False Orford Ness is the start of a 10Km long hook of beach that is a beach combing paradise. We decide to set camp then walk and explore. It was pleasant and we covered 7.5Kms before Michael appeared with his quad giving us a return ride. We did see one of the largest croc slides and discovered some fresh water points that we GPS marked for future reference.

At camp Paddy had been busy undoing a small mountain of rope he had found. He had untangled over 300metres before finally calling it quits, there was still more than four times that left in a large knot.

Tuesday 18^th August:

Last night was full moon and a king tide. It is only at these times that this beach run is possible with the king lows allowing such beach travel. The down side is the full highs and the problems of finding dry camping places. This beach is a thin band between the ocean and a line of brackish swamps. Crocodiles move between the two and often we see tracks.

We reach Hunter Creek and on the southern side is our lunch stop. The next bay we call Conch Bay because of the abundance of these large shells. Paddy was the first to find one then immediately he comes across the best find of the trip. It was a wooden drum carved with some decorative symbols of unknown pacific island origin.

With one of us on the quad and the other partner walking we explore the bays. They are a garden paradise of rocks, shells, seagrass fields, sponges, soft corals, large sea cucumbers and other exotic sea creatures. Jan and Lyn walk for miles and enjoy every moment. We collectively found some nice shells and I an old tea pot.

We camped just north of Camasade Creek well above the water line amongst the Casuarinas using the quad as protection from the evening wind.

Wednesday 19^th August:

As we leave camp we see yet another crocodile slide only 200 metres from where we slept. We cross Oyster Bay and onto the rocky headland north of Capt Billy Landing whence we then started our return run back north. Returning to Freshwater Rocks Camp we collected our beach combing spoils along the way. This evening was Paddy’s birthday and the group had prepared a collection of beach presents for him. The collection includes a vast variety of balls (golf, tennis, pool, ping pong, football etc), a collection of fishing lures, and an emergency beacon light. Lyn and I had written a beach story poem for Paddy. The party feasted on oysters sautéed in tomato sauce and chilli. Mains were beef and corn fritters followed by birthday cake.

Thursday 20^th August:

At 5am a heavy shower wet the camp. With time to wait for the tide to recede we dried ourselves and equipment. On the southern side of Orford Bay Jan found an under-water camera. It was still dry inside and the sim card readable. Later examination would reveal it was lost by a Japanese tourist in 2003.

When we reached Ussher Point we had covered over 180Kms.

The final creek crossing was now one metre deep and covered with floating pumice. Although it was crossed without complication it was none the less a final bit of excitement.

Our camp was as we left it, fortunately the fridges were still running providing a welcome cold beer for our return

Friday 21^st August:

The morning revolved around cleaning up, washing and preparing to move on tomorrow. In the afternoon Rob, Jan, Lyn and I walked the beaches north of Ussher Point. We walked the bays below magnificent red bauxite cliffs with coloured clay. The clay colours ranged from reds, pinks and purples through to brilliant white. In the third bay Lyn found a fantastic outrigger dugout canoe.

Back at camp, Michael had been cooking scones that proved great eating.

With all out collectables packed our evening meal consisted of Salmon and corn pie, followed by dates in red wine and cream – MMMmm.

Saturday 22^nd August:

Crossed the Jardine River and rejoined the Old Telegraph Track north to the Jardine River to where we had crossed it many years ago. Camp was at Nolan Brook.

Sunday 23^rd August:

This morning we crossed Nolan Brook...many times testing the water effectiveness of EarthCruiser and also just for fun. We had many spectators from the other campers in awe of a motorhome in this environment.

The Creek crossings of Cyprus, Cannibal (The Log Bridge), Mistake and Sams all proved photogenic. We did the touristy thing at Fruit Bat Falls eventually arriving at Bramwell Station at a comfortable time in the afternoon.

Over dinner we talked to station owner, Wendy about our plans to quad out to the pure white sands at White Point.

2009 Cape York 3 - Albany Island & The Tip

2009-08-13T19:23:00.009+10:00

Cape York, Summerset and Albany Island

Sunday 9^th August 2009:

Leaving Cable Beach Camp we are on our quads once again driving an overgrown track to Rooga Point where we can look across the turquoise sea to Possession Island. Returning to the main road we followed that as far as the Croc Tent. All of us were very dusty from the road travel and pleased at 1.7km past the tent to turn off and follow a track down to the mouth of Laradeenva Creek.

I knew the old telegraph line had to cross this track somewhere, and we were determined to find that. Just back from the fishing point on the river, there was an old World War II rest area, and here there is the slightest resemblance of a line through the trees. Following this hunch and 1 km in we found our first telegraph pole. The track is almost non-existent and would be impossible to drive in a normal vehicle. Even on the quads we had to use instinct to find the next telegraph pole. Remarkable here is the symbiotic Ant Orchards in the trees.

At a large bauxite hill, the line completely disappeared, and it was only the fact that a recent fire had gone through the area that allowed us to spread out and search. We were now all covered with ash and soot. By analysing the topography, where we would put a telegraph line, we found a shallow valley between two hills. We were indeed correct. From here on the line was more easily discernible, and after 8 kilometres, we emerged on the road back to Punsand Bay.

The afternoon was spent in the bar at Punsand Bay, where Lyn discovered Malibu was a refreshing and relaxing drink!

Returning to camp on the quads, Rob and Jan continued down the beach and found a small crocodile washed up. It hadn’t been dead for long as its skin and body was still soft and beautifully coloured. As much as we would like to have kept the skin for a souvenir rightfully we took it to the manager of Punsand. They were all suitably impressed as were the guests in the bar. Throwing the 1 m croc on the bar, I tried to swap it for a Rum & Coke. The bartender had no humour at all and walked away in disgust!

Monday 10^th August 2009:

We never get tired of view at the tip no matter how many times we have been here, it always remains impressive and the fabulous blue sea. Thinking back, we have seen our children grow from children to adults standing in the same place - at the sign saying “You are standing at the northernmost point of Australia”.

The abandoned Pajinka Lodge looks worse every visit. Once an upmarket tourist resort owned by Qantas, it was purchased by the Federal government and handed back to the local Injinoo aboriginal community. Soon after it has been reported that locals set fire to the generators and the desalination plant. The place was then ransacked and decay has set in. Today it is an eyesore and testimony to bad decisions.

We camped at Somerset beach. It is a tropical setting, if you ignore the red dust blowing in the wind. Close by there is a tree with lots of ornaments and bric-a-brac from past campers. During the afternoon, a couple of fellows arrived; they owned the barge that was moored on the beach. Michael went and chatted to them, and tomorrow they offered to taking us across to Albany Island. Nick and Leon purchased the lease in January and are going to run it as Pabaju Pearls and Wilderness Lodge. Originally, Albany Island was a pearling operation, this they will continue as well as running fishing trips and tours to the aboriginal paintings and gravesites. Next year, they will charge $50 head for what they are going to show us, but tomorrow we will just be a test run for them.

Tuesday 11^th August 2009:

The barge rolled in the blue swell as we crossed to Albany Island. Like the rest of Cape York the island is volcanic, surrounded by a fringing coral reef.

Our ‘tour’ led us to a large cove with some aboriginal rock art depicting what they believe are war canoes, and the remnants of a large rainbow serpent. We were then treated to a wonderful morning tea with muffins and lamingtons in the shade of the open kitchen area overlooking the passage towards Somerset.

Whilst walking to the highest point on the island and the old gravesites we learnt of local aboriginal botanical knowledge. Like crushing leaves of the spiky freshwater mangrove tree and put them in a billabong, where the fish would be stunned and float to the surface, and the

Soap tree that when you crushed the leaves and added water would produce a soapy mixture. The red and black Gidea Gidea Vine seeds were used for both decoration and as an abortion pill. The seeds are highly toxic, but by putting in water the less toxic ones floated. These were then taken to abort a pregnancy. The comment was that they worked 50% of the time, the other 50% were lethal...I guess it means they were 100% effective. Dangerous stuff!

Eight old graves were at the top of the hill, that of Wall and Nibblett from the Kennedy expedition. HMAS Freak bought the bodies here from Shelburne Bay, where they were killed by aborigines. Kennedy was killed nearby in the Escape River but his body was never found. From the top of the hill we could see Pioneer Bay and just beyond that, the rocks where HMAS Queta was wrecked.

We were not back at camp for long, before Nick returned in a small boat to pick up Paddy for a fishing expedition. He returned about an hour later with an 8 kilo Queen fish. Rob and Jan prepared it in alfoil and cooked in the coals. Delicious!

Wednesday 12^th August 2009:

Sunrise over the bay was beautiful, and just improved with the passing of the Young Endeavour sailing ship.

Today is another quad day; the plan is to follow the beaches south of Somerset to the mouth of the Escape River. The track is easy to follow from beach to beach, crossing the intermediate headlands. Continuing past the last inland track at Chandogoo Point we travelled behind the mangroves and across a small river. We had to move quickly now as not to get caught on the incoming tide at this point. It was then Saldegoo Beach and Cliffy Point before we could go no further on the quads. We then walked the next 2 km onto Kilbie Beach and marvelled at the wide mouth of the Escape River. Returning quickly, we crossed the river and the mangroves on an incoming tide and then back via the beautiful perched freshwater lakes of Wickeura and Bronto.

Thursday 13^th August 2009:

Following a further invitation from the boys of Albany Island, we loaded all of us and three quad bikes onto their barge. While the girls and Paddy went fishing around the island, Robert, Michael and myself were invited to push a track across to Pioneer Bay. With axe and machete we cut and pushed our way through thick scrub, vine scrub, down rocky escarpments and through the final rainforest fringe before we finally broke through to Pioneer Beach.

Pioneer Beach is fabulous pristine and isolated beach.

We met the barge and everyone else on the beach. Whilst we were enjoying our track making adventure Paddy had landed a 7Kg Trevalli for dinner.

2009 Cape York 2 -South From Vrilya Point

2009-08-08T17:09:00.007+10:00

The Old Telegraph Track and Quading South from Vrilya Point

Monday 3^rd August 2009:
We were all up at 6.30 and another shower. Lyn has written the word “Bliss” in her logbook so obviously it was very welcome.

The road north has much improved over the years and there are still road crews working on it now. From Bramwell Junction we followed the Old Telegraph Track to the notorious Gunshot Creek. Scouting the many options we decided on the far left hand track, still steep and eroded but with careful wheel placement all vehicles successfully crossed. Talking to other travellers it would still seem that many people have problems here. Only recently vehicles have been towed out from rollovers, end over ends, or just broken. There is now a tree beside the creek which has become a collecting point for broken bits of truck.

We set camp at Cockatoo Creek early in the afternoon, and all welcomed a swim in the creek.

Tuesday 4^th August 2009

The track north of Cockatoo was corrugated and rough but nothing like the track after the turnoff to Vrilya Point. This piece of road was so bad that if you opened your mouth your teeth would fall out! Everything that had a chance to move did move. Normally with corrugations travelling about 80 km/h is the answer, however with the winding track this was impossible. Even as slow as 5 km/h it was torturous.

The only exciting part of the track to Vrilya was the old long bridge. It is about 6 m long and only 2 m wide with a very steep drop below into it into a crystal clear creek. Not a difficult crossing it just needs correct wheel placement of all four wheels on the logs and not between them.

We set camp on South Vrilya Beach amongst the Casuarinas. It is a pretty spot on the beach, with the blue water gently lapping on the oyster rocks out in front of us. The afternoon spent washing the quads down in a small freshwater creek about 2 km back from the beach and repacking and sorting the gear the next four days quading south.

Wednesday 5^th August 2009

We were away at 8am, four quads; eight people, two skipper boats, pontoon, and gear for four days. Heading south it was a beautiful drive with lots of interesting things. We came across quite a few turtle tracks along the beach and one spot where the female had laid her eggs. By one lagoon there were a number of crocodile slides, one very big. Amongst the debris we found a large 70cm light bulb and marked a GPS point to collect on a return.

13 km down the beach we come to our first big estuarine river. Our adventure starts here at the Cottrell River. It is almost full low tide and yet the river is still 200 metres wide and still flowing out to sea. We know the water is deep because the sand disappears under the dark blue colour. With the pontoon assembled Paddy and Michael were the first to cross with me on the outboard. With them successfully on the other side I returned for Greg and Sue, and then Rob with our bike. The final run was for Lyn and Jan. During all this the outboard motor was a little temperamental but nonetheless our crossing was successful and we are all proud of our successful crossing.

Another 5 km further south we came across a 5 metre canoe washed in from the Pacific. The beach is covered with everything plastic, and anything that can possibly float. Fishing ropes of all sizes, Chinese whiskey bottles, plastic fishing trays with Thai writing, even a carton of very strong cigars. The best part of beachcombing is finding the unusual.

At midday and 28 km from base camp we reached the Doughboy River. It now full low tide and we thought we'd be lucky enough to drive it, but suddenly reached a stretch of deep water about 250 m across. We pontooned crossed successfully and in better time, we were all on the other side within half an hour. Now it's just a matter of packing up and heading south once again. At 38 km we encountered our next river, it was 3pm and with an incoming tide already too wide to cross. Tomorrow we will cross at low tide. This was the MacDonald River.

We did find a fabulous ready-made campsite on the peninsula between the river and the sea. Amongst the casuarinas we have the ocean to be west; to the north and the east is the river as it wraps around the campsite. It's an old fisherman's camp complete with plastic table and the exact number of chairs to suit our group. This we just have to call Camp Oceanview.

We took the bait net down to the river and caught 20 or so bait fish, and then it was down to the serious job of fishing. I have two strikes in a matter of minutes; unfortunately the second strike took all my line and tackle. Paddy saved the day by adding fish to our evening’s menu.

At 7 PM the sun has set and the moon has risen, the sky is bathed in different colours. Everyone has enjoyed the day with lots to see and explore. We are 38 km from base camp.

Thursday 6^th August 2009

We are up early after a disturbed night. The blow-up mattress was uncomfortable and it was a hot night. Breakfast is porridge and dried fruit that had been soaked in water overnight, plus that early morning cup of coffee to get us all going.

The tide is on its way out and we were lucky enough to see a group of dolphins swimming out to sea. The longer we wait the more exposed sand we see, reducing the length of our crossing. At full low the MacDonald River is still 150 m wide and fast flowing. We are all constantly on crocodile watch. We load the first quad bike onto the pontoon and a large loggerhead turtle and her baby swim by. As operator of the outboard motor I am very close to the water's edge as we shuffle the quads back and forth. It's a little concerning because the noise of the outboard motor is reported to be a similar to that of a mating female crocodile.

Despite the outboard motor still playing up, in less than 30 minutes we are all across the MacDonald River and see a small number of fishing dinghies and mother ship. It is a paid 10 day fishing trip out from Bamaga, they fish the ocean gutters by day and the estuarine rivers at night when the tides permit.

In the 50 km we have travelled, we have found 14 dugout canoes. Jan was very fortunate to find not only a set of paddles, but also a child's toy canoe. It has obviously been lovingly carved and a treasured possession, it is now washed up on this isolated beach. It is now Jan’s treasured possession!

We reached the Jackson River at 56 km from base camp. Refuelling the quad bikes from our reserves we watch a Sea Eagle swoop in and catch fish to feed her young brood in the nest above us. Deciding not to cross because our fuel is getting low and that doubtful outboard motor, we return north to retrace our steps back to Oceanview Camp.

Back at the MacDonald River, the tide was on its way in and there was quite a bit of discussion whether to cross. With time being the essence, the pontoon was quickly assembled and we had the first quad across the river in less than eight minutes. The incoming tide is alive with activity, the crossing is smooth and we see a number of big stingrays and a shark chasing fish in the shallows. With each successive crossing the trip gets longer and longer as the river grows in width with the incoming tide. Where we had driven across sand in the morning, we are now pontooning across fast flowing water. By a third crossing we had to cover some 500 metres from one side to the other. Just before the last return trip the outboard motor spluttered to a stop and refused to restart. Paddy and Michael were still on the other side and no matter what we did it refuse to start.

Fortunately the mother ship of those fishing boats we had seen earlier in the morning was anchored for its overnight stay in the MacDonald River. They had been watching our situation unfold and fortunately lent us a hand by towing our pontoon across the river to collect Paddy, Michael and their quad bike. From the mother ship Michael borrowed the appropriate tools to dismantle the carburettor and fixed the fuel blockage problem.

With everybody now back on the same side of the river, camp is set and everyone is relaxed after a hard day with a fair degree of excitement.

Friday 7^th August 2009

Everybody slept well last night, despite the background noises from dingoes, pigs, and the splashes in the river, which could have been anything.

Heading north, we are first across the Doughboy River, and thanks to Michael's service the motor is working like a dream. The crossing is being done in less than five minutes, and all four vehicles were over in less than 14 minutes. We are becoming very proficient at this.

During morning tea stop on the beach, we collected coconuts for our pre-dinner snack. At the crossing of the Cottrell River, Lyn was waiting on the other side and spotted a large mud crab in the shallows. With a net that she had found on the beach earlier Lyn scooped up the crab and that also became a pre-dinner snack.

The run along the beach back to camp was easy-going, the sea was beautiful blue, the tide low, and the birds darted into the waves as fish jumped and scattered. Arriving back at camp, we had covered a total of 112 km.

Rob and Jan, both being ex-chefs, made an exquisite crab and coconut dip from our beach finds. We enjoyed this as the sun set over the Gulf of Carpentaria.

Saturday 8^th August 2009

This morning we took the quads, north of Vrilya Point 4 or 5 km to the old lighthouse ship. Not much is left now but it was appropriate for a group photograph.

With the trucks packed, we returned to the main northern road, crossed the Jardine River, and set camp at Cable Beach, a short quad drive from Punsand Bay. Cable Beach is where the Overland Telegraph Line crossed the sea to Thursday Island to connect with Singapore and the rest of the world. We use the quad bikes as a shuttle service for the facilities at Punsand Bay, and also to enjoy Saturday evening seafood buffet. At $60 a head, it is recommended with plentiful crabs, prawns, lobster, oysters, and more.

2009 Cape York 1 - Princess Charlotte Bay

2009-07-29T20:38:00.044+10:00

Date: 25^th- 29^th July 2009

Current Position:

Mouth of Balclutha Creek, South of Port Stewart, Cape York.

Highlights:

“On the Road Again”

Total Distance to Date: 2325Kms

Diary Notes: After 12 months of un-retiring myself to build EarthCruisers it is great, be it for only 4 weeks, to be back on the adventure trail again. This trip we have plans to do more exploring of the eastern and this year the western beaches of Cape York.

To date Lyn and I have walked, driven various 4x4’s, or ridden our quads from Escape River in the North to Temple Bay about half way down the eastern side of the Cape. Our plan, this year is to quad the entire arc of Princess Charlotte Bay and on the West coast south from Verilla Point to Mapoon. This is some 300Kms of coast line that is only reachable by boat, and will require pontooning of the quads over some 12 rivers.

Joining us this year is Greg & Sue Dunstan, long time travelling companions, Robert & Jan, Robert has been a long time friend and competition truck navigator for many years, and from New Zealand Michael Whyte and his father Paddy. Michael is the proud owner of EarthCruiser No2.

I have known Michael for a number of years, from when we first met as fellow winch challenge competitors when I competed ‘over the ditch’ in NZ. Michael also plans to join us for our next year’s expedition across Asia through Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, China, Tibet, Mongolia, Russia, from whence the trucks will be shipped to the US before heading north to Alaska and eventually south to Tierra Del Fuego over the next few years.

The trip north from Brisbane was uneventful with overnight stops at a truck stop near St Laurance, a caravan park in Cairns, and then finally at Musgrave at around 4.30pm on the third day. Musgrave was an old telegraph station on the telegraph line north, that to date fortunately still retains its isolated charm. The original timber homestead up on stumps, a single fuel browser outside, and open camp area for the passing tourists. The bitumen is slowly stretching towards Musgrave, and I fear that that isolated calm will be lost the moment that black top arrives. Once this happens the travellers will just speed past, racing to stand on Australia’s most northern point.

From Musgrave we headed north some 80kms before turning right off the Coen road towards Port Stewart. The road out is typically corrugated with many 25kph wash outs and dips. The name Port is somewhat misleading. When Lyn and I were there 30 years ago it was just the end of a dirt track next to the mangroves and the estuarine creek. Today it is the same, excepting for the assortments of mostly abandoned fisherman’s huts, derelict boats, and rusting 44gallon drums. The fishing must still be good as the air was filled with the wiff of fish.

Retreating back up the road some 19Kms we found the track that I had previously plotted from Google Earth. I found aerial GPS plotting from Google is an ideal way to find isolated access to the eastern beaches, track turn offs and camp sites. Following the preset waypoints the track led us through scrub country and across several dry sandy rivers for 25Kms until finally we found the faint track that followed the mouth of Balclutha Creek. The track was tight, overgrown and ducked in and out between the vine scrub and the mangrove creek tidal flood/mud plain.

Once on the beach we used the quads to explore the area for a suitable camp as it is here the vehicles would be parked up for 10 days whilst we explored the coastline north and south.

Under the shade of several trees we selected a camp site that had been used by others and came already equipped with a galvanised iron shower cubical and a campfire windbreak sheltering it from the easterly prevailing wind. Typical of beach camps the shade trees were decorated with artefacts found from the beach. Among the ‘collection’ was the front end of a child’s tricycle, plastic combs, fish nets, and a piece of drift wood emulating the face of ‘Wilson’, the pretend friend in the movie Castaway.

With plenty of drift wood from the beach, the evening camp fire burnt for a long time as we enjoyed a few cold Bundy Rums and a couple of bottles of red.

Wednesday 29^th July:

Before the sun bit hard the girls walked the beach south for approx 4kms and Jan returned with more washed up bathroom utensils to add to the shower room ornamentation.

Today was a lay day, and a day to prepare the quads with supplies for our 6 day trek north. With a slight breeze it was pleasant enough just relaxing, book reading, chatting idly, checking the tide change times and catching the odd mud crab in the creek.

Camp No4 ' Camp Seven-Up'

Date: 30^th July – 2^nd August 2009
Current Position: Archer River

Highlights: WWII aircraft and very big Crocodile Slides
Quad Distance to Date: 157 Kms

Thursday 30^th July 2009:
We were all up at 7am doing final preparations the bikes. They seemed, and more than likely were very much overloaded, with food for 5days, 20Lts water, 20Lts extra fuel, tent & sleeping gear, plus each quad carried 2 people and a component of the pontoon we will use for the estuarine creek crossings.
The pontoon was made up of two plastic ‘skimmer’ boats joined in parallel by an alloy frame with forward facing loading ramps. Momentum was provided by a 15HP outboard motor. The two boats, the frame, and the outboard, weighed approx 50- 60 Kg each and the loads were shared between the four quads.

We headed north up the beach on a receding tide reaching our first creek only 3Kms from camp. We were already deep in mangrove swamp mud and a new untested problem immediately arose with our pontoon set up. In deep mud the approach ramp was too steep for the quads to climb, and the result was that the pontoon was simply just pushed out into the creek. With some of us holding the pontoon and some on crocodile watch we eventually had one quad on the raft, only to arrive on the other side of the creek in half metre deep mud. So much organisation and already we were thwarted. We thus returned the pontoon to starting position on the creek. Furthermore the outboard motor was playing up. It would run for five minutes then just shut down. Twenty or so pulls later it would run again but only for those five minutes. Bugger!

Whilst all this was happening the tide continued to recede. With the pontoon reloaded onto the quads we travelled further out to sea and around the deep mangrove swamp. Simply we were too close into the mangroves and too early in the low tide.

After skirting three more rivers some 300metres out to sea at 11am we reach the mouth of the Stewart River. Riding up the sand dune on this side, the Stewart it is a wide sweeping lagoon with thick mangroves on an arc on the far side. Fortunately the mouth of the river snakes north following the northern ocean current flow and spreads itself out over a wide sandy delta. It is full low tide now and the river is shallow enough for a quad crossing with saltwater just over the running boards.

The sandy beach north is narrow and is constantly bounded by mangroves on the inland side, allowing for little retreat for high tide camping. At 12.45pm the tide is already on the way in and still no safe high ground. I have seen only one camp site option, but we decide to send Paddy and Robert on the lightest and best tyre equipped quad to explore the next river crossing. They return with stories of deep mud, where they had to manually reef the quad from the ooze as the tide continues its inland march. With 3.5 metre tide changes it is not something to be caught in. Let alone, infested with crocodiles, sharks, and sea snakes.

We are 28Kms from base camp, and at 1pm, I call camp on the small rise above high tide I had spotted earlier, but from beach debris it is not above storm tide level.

In a small local estuarine creek we tried our hand at catching dinner. Rob had two good strikes as the rest of us fed the sand flies. Returning to camp everyone was looking forward to coffee and soon discovered that the mike powder that Sue had bought had expired some years previously. We learnt there and then to enjoy black coffee! Dinner was chilli beef followed by a great bottle of Port, thanks to Rob.

We all retired by 8.30pm with the high tide water only 10metres from our tents. For a long time Lyn and I sat or lay watching the water, before eventually convincing ourselves it was safe.

The wind stopped around midnight, and as the tide retreated we could finally find sleep.

Camp No5 - ‘Croc Watch Camp’

Friday 31^th July 2009:
We are all up at 6.30am and with a quick head count, all are accounted for. Packed and travelling by 8.30 we travel the one kilometre or so to the river that the guys tried to cross the afternoon before. This was the Rocky River mouth.
It was the mouth of three rivers and full of water and about 300metres wide. With a doubtful outboard motor and a wind blowing from the shore out to sea, it was not a good safety combination. As much as we were all disappointed not to proceed further north, it was sensible to return.

Once back at base camp we had done a total of 58Kms, refuelled the quads and water bottles, topped up the coffee jar, plus found some all important unexpired milk powder. It was only 1pm and all were ready to quad south.

3.3Kms south of Balclutha Creek we find the remains of a WWII aircraft above the high tide mark. We could not identify the make but many theories were discussed re the final problems as to the crash. The wing fuel tanks had exploded so it did not land due to lack of fuel and one of our party found an exploded shell casing stamped 1942. The questions will remain unanswered.

We travelled another 8kms south as far as we had seen from base camp in the southerly sweep of Princess Charlotte Bay to where the sand joined the mangroves. As we entered the mangroves flat, Paddy and Michael were out front and they immediately sank down to the axles of the quad. It was a matter of unloading the quad of fuel and water and all four men lifting the quad as Michael drove it out. With the tide now incoming, and too late for a further seaward skirt so we returned up the beach about 2kms for high ground well away from estuarine creeks and mangroves...and potential crocodiles

Tonight we tried something different in dinner preparation. With fresh water always scarce we cooked our individually prepared omelettes in zip-lock plastic bags and dropped them into boiling salt water. In 13minutes dinner was served in its own container and all with no washing up.

Camp No6: ‘Stuck in the Mud Camp’

Saturday 1^st August 2009:
Lyn and I were up before dawn to walk the beach. All along the beach were the tracks of feral pigs and their diggings for crabs, shell fish and unfortunately turtle eggs. Tracks were also made by the occasional kangaroo visiting the sea, not to mention the odd crocodile slide.
Aboriginal middens were all along the coast and showed the remains of the diversity of shell fish they eat. Judging by the blackened sand and rocks in the piles of shells it was the preferred preparation method of just placing the shellfish on the fire to extract the editable part.

As the tide receded we crossed further out to sea and around the mangrove swamp. We passed the remains of a small wooden boat assembled with wooden nails. A further 18Kms south of Running Creek we discovered the remains of another WWII aircraft between the high and low tide mark. We will visit this again on our return journey to discover more.

At 22Kms we passed the Lama Lama National Parks sign and a few kilometres on we explored an old shack on the beach.
Finally at 30Kms we had run out of beach, and only the mangroves of the North Kennedy River were ahead which represented the bottom of Princess Charlotte Bay arc.

Between this point and an estuarine creek some 7kms back and between the last low and previous high tide mark, and we counted 15 crocodile slides as they made their into the water from the swamps behind the beach.

It was Paddy who identified the WWII aircraft as a twin engine Corsair fighter. As we dug the wings from the sand the three gun slots were still evident in each wing. It would also seem that it was a wheels up landing, as the rubber tyres and undercarriage were still in their folded position parallel to the wings.

Returning to Running Creek, above the red cliffs, there was a great camp site, also accessible by a bush track.

Camp No7: ‘Corsair/Running Creek Camp’

Sunday 2^st August 2009:
We awake to the sound of foreign voices in camp. It was a group of fishermen from Bowen who regularly visit this out of way fishing creek. He had camped up the road about 3 km where there was fresh water. With the tide still very high we decided to take a very dusty dirt track back to base camp. The track had many offshoots most of them going to fishing holes behind the mangroves. At one stage we lost Greg and Sue apparently they're sleeping bag had fallen off the quad. The track continued through open areas and areas where succulent Leichardt trees grew prolifically.

We arrived back at base camp with everybody covered with fine grey dust. There was no point washing down because the quad bikes still had to be loaded into the trailer, hence we left camp site in a rather grotty state. The dirt track was 39 km long and took about one and a half hours. Again very dusty it wound its way around termite mounds eventually arriving at Stewart Creek. Stewart Creek did not pose a problem coming in because of the big downhill run into the soft sandy creek be. However on this return journey the very soft sand required lowering of the tyre pressures to make a successful run at 45° exit slope.

Rather than backtracking to the Wenlock-Coen Road we decided to take the dotted line retracing part of the original Telegraph track into Coen. It was a slow drive a very enjoyable with many sandy and some rocky creek crossings.

We arrived at Archer River around 6.30 and were all very looking forward to a long shower and a famous Archer burger.

Camp No8: ‘Archer River Camp’

Outback Challenge 2008

2008-06-25T20:49:00.000+10:00

Outback Challenge 2008
The OBC was a great event, very unfortunately we had to retire after 4days of competition. During a high speed 15km run down station tracks we screwed the key way off the crank. That left us without engine cooling and alternator power.
Up to that time we were at the pointy end, having won a couple of stages, a few seconds and up there for most of the other stages.
As you can see from the attached we were flying !
In this particular stage (pictured) we won against all the V8’s…not bad for an old oilburner…

The Krawler tyres performed well in the sand and after 2 hours of racing over the Darling River muddy flood plains we came in 2nd by only 20 seconds for top position.

The TJM Prolockers have now been in the comp truck for three years and still check out OK.

Unfortunately following the event we have now pulled the diesel motor down only to discover that both the crank and the heads are cracked...bugger!

It will be a couple of months to rebuild.

We hope to be up and running for the Alpine Challenge 19-22nd September.

Here is a link to a few more pics: http://www.holeshotimages.com.au/Events/obc08/kymbolton/index.html

Spain back to the UK

2008-04-03T04:21:00.000+10:00

Thursday 27th March 2008: The road from the camp ground followed the beach past the Flamingos feeding ponds and the salt extraction ponds, eventually along the side of a cliff and up to a lighthouse. The sky was blue today and the view up the rocky coastline magnificent. From here on the road was closed and the locals were setting off with back packs exploring the ‘isolated’ bays and foreshores.

Back on the freeway we join the hundreds of trucks and the flow of vehicles north. I estimate that there are just as many heavy semi’s on the road as there are private motor vehicles. About 60kms south of Valencia we exit to the small town of Gandia, and find a camp ground. We walk to the beach through the holiday resort area, but can not find a restaurant. We walked and walked, now at 8pm we managed a beer at a tapas bar, but no food. Hence we resorted to finding a supermarket and purchased BBQ pork ribs that tasted great with a bottle of wine in the truck.

Camp 21: Couldn’t find a Restaurant Camp.

Distance travelled: 426Kms. Total: 7981Kms.

Friday, Saturday 28-29th March: A couple of days on and off the highways. Most remembered was an old Roman viaduct beside the road and the seaside resorts around Carnet Plage. The beaches are quite now but by the number of car parks provided and the numerous town houses, in summer it must be very busy.

Following smaller roads to our destination of Anduze, where we caught up with Chris Scott. Chris has a great deal of knowledge of the North African continent, and should things be politically OK in Algeria we expect to join him in November for a 4 week tour of that country.

Camp was at a quaint private park on the side of a hill, very picturesque and quiet.

Camp 23: Anduze Camp. Distance travelled in 2 days: 894Kms. Total: 8875Kms.

Saturday 30th March: We were due at Chris’s at 9am but daylight saying caught us out so we were a slightly late 10.15 for that first coffee. Following more Africa discussions in preparation for our 2010 Morocco to Cape Town trip we left around midday.

Taking the smaller twisting roads through the Cervantes Mountains we eventually met the A7 north again. Some of those smaller roads in the Cervantes hair pinned so much that many times I had to reverse to get the vehicle around. Lyn was pleased to reach the main road and call a coffee break.

We should know by now that freeway fast food stops never offer good food. Nobody ever complains they just drive away. French highway food shops are no different. We set camp in the car park of such a roadside stop.

Camp 24: Highway A7 Camp. Distance travelled: 232Kms. Total: 9108Kms.

Monday 31st March: The nights are getting colder as we head north, and last night was no different. Leaving the main road we selected smaller roads up to the d’Auvergne Mountains. This is part of the central French snow fields, and as we assended up the mountains the snow cover increased. Finally, and quite magical, for us it began to snow.

It covered the fur trees like a Christmas tree, and on the ground it was up to half a metre deep. Lunched in a small village surrounded by snow.

Returning off the mountain range, we camped by a small lake enjoying our French Champagne, cheese and salmon.

Camp 25: Champagne Camp. Distance travelled: 195Kms. Total: 9303Kms.

Tuesday 1st April: We had by telephone previously booked to travel by the ferry back to Pool in the UK tonight so it was a full day covering the 700 kilometres.

Most of this we travelled on the toll ways and our credit card was accepted. However at one booth the Mastercard and the Visa would not work. I only had €10, and that was our coffee money, the toll was €20.40. In the end she accepted the €10; either that or we would continue to block the toll booth indefinitely. The cards both worked after that, so I am convinced that some places are just not set up for international credit cards.

Following the above experience we elected to follow the final few kilometres via lesser roads and that took us along the Normandy Coast where the Americans landed in partnership with the Brits further north at Dunkirk in the ‘D-Day’ landing on the 6th June 1944.

The overnight ferry puts us back on left side of the road in the UK. Today, following the cloths washing at a laundrette in Pool is a truck clean at Devon 4x4 and tomorrow (Wednesday 3rd) we return home to Brisbane.

The vehicle will remain again here in the UK for our return in July/August to explore Ireland and the west of Scotland.

Distance Travelled: 700Kms. Total for trip:10003Kms

Max temp 36.6C Min minus 3C

Marrakesh back to Spain

2008-03-27T07:25:00.000+10:00

Tuesday 20th March 2008: Last night it was a cold minus 3 degrees, and we woke to snow on the vehicle.

The cloud cover lifted to reveal snow covered peaks surrounding us. We are actually above the clouds in clear air. Walking up the road further we are surrounded by locals all very keen to hire us ski equipment. We are quite happy to walk further up the road and enjoy the mountains.

Returning back past the ski lift, the highest in Africa, it is now working, and foolishly Lyn suggests may be we should go to the top. Well it was a dozen or more yes/no’s before she confirmed a yes. We were already at 2,650metres and the top is at 3250metres. It was half way up before she managed to open her eyes and ‘enjoy’ the impressive surroundings. It was very cold, and we were pleased we were in our NZ heavy jackets, gloves and beanies. I could not persuade Lyn to alight at the top, but was happy to have done the loop, being above the clouds with the backdrop of snow peaks and blue sky was great.

Marrakech is one busy and diverse city. Modern hotels and new condominiums contrasted with donkey carts in the streets. We had been given the location of a campground and after settling in caught a taxi to the centre of town in readiness for the night markets. Crowded shoulder to shoulder, apparently it was Mohammed’s birthday so that added to the excitement. Story tellers, snake charmers, group games, dancers, all intermingled with nut sellers, food stands, fortune tellers, and balloon sellers. The crowd was made up of a cross section of locals and foreigners from every continent. It was a bit much for us ‘open country lovers’ being hassled from every direction to buy, to donate, to give to participate etc. We escaped to an upstairs restaurant for dinner, and thought a beer would be nice with dinner, that was not to be. Being a Muslim country most places do not sell alcohol some do, this one belonged to the negative.

Returning to the camp site by the same taxi guy, we arranged with him a city tour tomorrow for 40Dh each, it will save driving the truck around the small unknown streets.

Camp 15: Marrakech Camp. Distance travelled: 91Kms. Total: 5887Kms.

Tuesday 21st March: The taxi was picking us up at 10am so had some time to grease the truck and some general maintenance. Also noticed a MAN 4x4 camper in the grounds so went over and had a chat to the Spanish guy who builds them. Impressive rig but very big. 4 rooms, 500litres water, 600Lts fuel, all up weight 9.5tonne. He has just returned from Mali and was telling me he had to winch down trees on the tracks to get through!

The taxi bus took us and others to the grand palace (20 years to build, 15 years to rape of its treasurers), the Tombs of Soodiam, and some beautiful gardens built by a French artist.
Returning to the campground, I was annoyed that the taxi driver ripped us off with the price. He insisted he was quoting Euro not Dirham. Anyway the price dropped from 450Dh to a final 300Dh, but I was still felt taken. I have learnt that the Moroccans offer a hand of friendship with the right hand and the other is already out asking for money!
We elected to stay the extra night and relax for the afternoon.

Camp 16: Marrakech Camp No2. Distance travelled: 0Kms. Total: 5887Kms.

Tuesday 22nd March: With our taxi driver situation yesterday, we had just enough money to pay for the camping and left for the supermarket with 6Dh in our pocket, about A$0.90. Fortunately ATM’s are plentiful so we feel fulfilled and with some resupply we are off to the Cascades D’Ouzoud.

Detouring to just outside Demnate we stopped to walk down to a natural bridge, then drove another 8Kms to inspect some Dinosaur footprints. As we pull up to the site about 30 children run to the truck wanting to guide us to the very obvious footprints. It was such a hassle continually telling them we do not need their help that it made it very unpleasant. Taking one quick photograph we left. Truly the young have been spoilt by the French and Spanish by paying them for everything. You ask directions, and immediately they want 5Dh, often on dirt roads they stand in front of the truck picking stones off the road and then ask for money, girls in the street pick flowers and offer them to you, then ask for money. It not money it is bom boms (lollies), stylos (biros) or cigarettes.

Camped at the falls, it was my turn to haggle for the camp fees, down from 50Dh to 30Dh. I feel better now that I have had a small win!

The falls are beautiful and worth the trip down and up the 500 or so steps. They fall over 110metres in three steps. At the bottom the small steel bridge linking the two sides of the stream has broken, and the inventive locals have strapped some 44gallon drums together, added a platform, and chairs with lots of plastic flowers and instant money machine.

All down the walking path are stalls and restaurants selling tajins, tea, coffee and crapes. This place is very popular with Moroccans and well as tourists.

Camp 17: Falls Camp. Distance travelled: 235Kms. Total: 6123Kms.

Tuesday 23rd March: Today we head towards the coast of the Atlantic Ocean at Safi. Following the gorge road down the mountains the scenery reminds us of Australia; red rock strata sediments in green eucalyptus trees everywhere. I find it surprising how many eucalyptus and wattle trees are scattered across Morocco. The eucalyptus do get a hard time, constantly being cut for their wood, then resprouting.

In Safi, the old Portuguese fort of Qasr Al-Bahr dates back to the 17th century and was a trading port for both the east Indies spices and the slaves of Africa bound for Portugal. Still in place are some of the original cannons. The ‘Castle of the Sea’ overlooks the small fishing port famous for its sardine fleet and the walled medina (living area).

Finding the camping grounds we walked the 5Kms back into town and had a meal of local fish; probably on of our best meals in Morocco. Too heavy to walk back up the hill it was a cheap 20Dh in the local ‘petit taxi’.
Camp 18: Safi Camp. Distance travelled: 305Kms. Total: 6429Kms.

Tuesday 24th March: Heading north from Safi we follow the Atlantic coast and call in at a beach where the waves are so perfect it is the site for the Billabong Surf classic.

The rugged limestone cliffed coast is broken by sandy beaches that are becoming populated with continuous lines of condos. At the town of El-Jadida we explore the twisted and narrow streets of the old Portuguese walled city. On the ramparts of the fortress walls that guard the city and the port are more canons that have the date 1272 on stamped on them.

Heading further north we jumped on the motorway, bypassed the 4.7million people of Casablanca, and headed for Rabat and its sister city across the river of Sale. Eventually we found the camp site in Sale. Most of these Moroccan camp sites are pretty disgusting; this one typical, no hot water in the showers, some showers without doors, and the toilets, well there is only one and hold your breath!

We caught a ‘grand taxi’ back to Rabat and wandered the markets within the Medina. We found our way to the oldest part of the city. Again, we were approached by a young man who insisted on showing us around. Constantly I said to him, “I do not want a guide” His reply: “No, free, I friend and live here, will show you around.” I know this is not the case.
Eventually we walk another way; he follows us and asked for 40Dh. My reply was a firm “No”, which bought the response “…something…Rubbish.” It does not leave me with a good impression of Morocco people and their attitude to tourists.

We were going to have dinner locally, but returned to the camper and cooked some spicy sausages.

Camp 19: Sale Camp. Distance travelled: 352Kms. Total: 6881Kms.

Tuesday 25th March: Following the coast this morning instead of the highway afforded us great views of the rugged coastline. We are heading to the National park Merdja Zerga to see the flamingos if they are there and to lunch at the seaside. Lyn’s navigation got us there but on the wrong side of the lake, but that is Ok because probably we were not hungry at 2pm. Anyway there were no flamingos, but our seafood lunch was very nice. Not a touch on our Ozzie seafood but after 3 weeks of tajines it was most welcome.

From the restaurant we could see the blue rolling surf of the Atlantic Ocean as it washed up on the wide sandy beach; with the gum trees lining the road in it was reminiscent of home.

It was getting late in the day so decided to jump on the highway to Tangier. Lyn has a real problem with maps and we were only lost for an hour in the gnarly traffic of that town. Then all of a sudden, when we least expected it there was the camping sign. We doubted ourselves because the direction lead us across some very muddy ground, then up hairpin bends on very disused concrete, then only to arrive at a locked gate. Yes, it had the correct name of the campground, but little room to turn around. Lyn’s navigation day was saved as all of a sudden the gates opened and we were ushered in. We had found the disused back door to the camp ground.

The caretaker welcomed us, and in our discussions suggested that perhaps we should leave by the same way so we would not get lost finding the front gate. Did he know something I did not!

Camp 19: Tangier Back Door Camp.
Distance travelled: 314Kms. Total: 7095Kms.

Tuesday 26th March: With an early start of 7am we were off the Ceuta and our ferry crossing back to Spain. Arriving at the customs border of the Spanish province at 9am , it was a good two hours doing the necessary paperwork out of Morocco and in to Ceuta. Actually only about 15 minutes of paperwork the rest of the time was inching forward in the vehicle, and resisting running over others who tried to push in.

The vehicle carrying catamaran carries 945 passengers and a significant number of vehicles. As I was about to drive off the ferry after the one hour trip I noticed with some pride that this vessel was built in Western Australia.

The afternoon covered a good distance past all those Spanish condominiums again, and camped at ‘Capode Gata’ National Park camp grounds. Expensive at €25 (A$40) after Morocco, but the showers are clean, hot and the water lasts forever.

Camp 20: Long Hot Showers Camp.
Distance travelled: 460Kms. Total: 7555Kms.

Morocco Part 3

2008-03-21T02:37:00.000+10:00

Tuesday 17th March 2008: The morning was spent wandering the Benhaddou Kasbar, impressive, but they start to look all very similar. This one very much reconstructed as it has been used in many movie sets. The local town of Ouarzazate is home to many movie studios and the Alas studios offers ours so that was our next stop after catching up on internet etc.

The Atlas studios was where ‘Gladiator’, ‘Jewel of the Nile’, ‘Mummy 1 & 2’, and ‘Ten Commandments’ were made. We walked around the sets that were constructed for these films; reconstructions of Egypt, slave markets, and the town of Jerusalem. The latter took one year to construct and was used for 45 minutes in the movie. Behind the impressive facades were just plaster-of-paris and bamboo frames.

Camp that evening was typical of my camps; up a track to the top of a ridge some 8kms from the road. The valleys spread before us. We set camp and walked around discovering some old mines and the remains of smelter works. On checking the maps we discover these are old silver mines.

Camp 12: Old Silver Mine Camp. Distance travelled: 79Kms. Total: 5371Kms

Tuesday 18th March: This was a great day of travelling mountain pistes and tizis; tracks and mountain passes.

Initially it was not to be but the sealed road headed south them arched north again…why not take the dotted line that joins the two. It started firstly as a bitumen road and slowly deteriorated down to a mountain goat track. We amazed ourselves in the navigation through the many turn offs that headed into mountain villages and goat shelters.

The track was rough in places roughly hewn out of the bare mountain side with many a near vertical drop off to the side. It wound its way over the Tizi at 2,4000metres, with snow not so far off to the side. Fortunately the only vehicles we met were a Dutch push bike rider, then two French 4x4 vehicles. Apart from the pleasant exchange it was good to confirm our directions were correct; and we met where we could pass without difficulty.

The track was 140Kms long and took 5hours.

Following lunch in the very dusty and wind swept town of Aoulouz it was then on to Morocco’s most spectacular and dangerous road; well at least according to ‘Lonely Planet’…the road over Tizi n Test.

This sealed road snaked itself up a near vertical mountain side. In 17Kms we rose 1.4Kms to 2,100metres. Many times as we quickly glance over the side of the road we can see our road numerous times zigzag back and forth below us.
I thoroughly enjoyed the road, unfortunately Lyn finished up with a headache constantly worrying about oncoming vehicles on the very narrow road, particularly around numerous blind corners.

We could not find a camping spot, and drove till 7pm when finally we saw what we thought was a camping ground. It turned out to be a tourist hotel bathed in wisteria, and if we had dinner there, then camping in their grounds would not be a problem. We gratefully accepted, unfortunately it was the most expensive meal we have had, and the worst meal. It was however in very pleasant surroundings with log fire, comfortable cane chairs, and a bottle of Moroccan red wine!

Camp 13: Wisteria Camp. Distance travelled: 306Kms. Total: 5678Kms.

Tuesday 19th March: We just can not help ourselves…we found another dotted line. Why drive the 40Kms into Marrakech and back out in the next valley when there is a perhaps perfectly good track leading over the mountains.

This one was good, slightly used, and tracked 1,800metres up the side of the valleys. Often looking very quickly over the side was a near vertical drop off down to our original track below. The views were breathtaking. According to the map there was another short cut to the road to Oukaimeden our next destination. Confidently we found the turn off and headed off on the right hand piste. This was even narrower and clung precariously to the vertical rock face. There was no where to turn around should we need, let’s hope no other vehicle approaches. We continued like this for 8Kms through and past villages that also clung precariously to the mountain side. The track slowly getting less used as we pass by each Kasbah house. Finally we needed to confirm our direction. The Moroccans speak their local language and French, no English. By our bad pronunciation of Oukaimedan it was confirmed that we were on the wrong track. Bugger!
.
Finding a suitable place to do a 6 point turn re retraced our steps. Much to the delight of the boys in one village who insisted on attempting to ride on the rear bumper bar of the truck as we very slowly (5-8KPH) negotiated the tight track. It was very disconcerting knowing that those boys could do themselves harm, yet I had to concentrate on the track as below the left hand mirror was a vertical drop. Thankfully they soon tired and allowed me to return all my attention to the road.

Finally back at the ‘T’ junction we continued on the same road for 2kms and then found the sign to right to Oukaimedan, this piste looked very unused and by this time Lyn was ‘pist’ed off’ of pistes. Continuing we soon joined the bitumen to Oukaimedan.

At 2,300metres we drove through and into the clouds, finally at 2,6000metres we arrived at the only true Moroccan sky resort. There is a little snow/ice on the road side and it is a cold 10degrees outside. We can not see because of the dense cloud cover but I estimate there is no real snow cover because most of the accommodation is deserted. Actually the place looks very run down.
Rugged up, we had yet another tajine (hot-pot) for an early dinner at 5pm and watched the truck disappear in the increasing cloud only 100metres from our table. Constantly we are offered by sellers, fossils, crystal geodes, beads, silver jewellery, Berber daggers etc, if not to buy then they are happy to swap. To date I have been offered 2 carpets for my hat, and a fossil for my jacket. Lyn was offered a fossil dish for her shoes. Lyn has some under sized shoes; let’s see what we can swap those for!

With visibility at 50metres we slowly followed the road to a parking spot were we set camp.

Camp 14: In the Clouds Camp. Distance travelled: 118Kms. Total: 5796Kms.

Tuesday 20th March: Last night it was a cold minus 3 degrees, and we woke to snow on the vehicle.
Today to Marrakech.

Morocco Part 2

2008-03-17T22:07:00.000+10:00

Monday 10th March 2008: We leave our desert camp at our now usual time of 9am and head towards the Atlas Mountains. Firstly a refuel and the internet visit in the town of Erfoud and to send postcards home.

Just as we were about to leave town, Lyn’s front tooth fell out. It was an implant done some 20 years ago. Not wanting to look like all the local women, we needed to come up with a quick fix. I did not have any superglue on hand but I do have some engine block repairer. With some quick puttying of the mixture Lyn’s tooth is now back in place and she can comfortable smile again….Three days later it is still in place!

We were driving past some old water wells, some of which were still in use so we stopped to investigate. As soon as we stopped a young man ran out from is tent and invited us in for tea. I do specifically remember his saying free and no obligations. We thought how friendly. He explained that each line of water wells belongs to a different tribe,( the Berbers, the Nomads etc) and as one goes dry they dig another in the same line but deeper into the aquifer.(now at 25metres) The tea was very sweet; particularly as he kept breaking big roughly cast lumps of sugar into the tea pot. Then came the crunch, “Look my brother digs these fossils” and “My sister makes this jewellery out of camel knee bones”. Actually it was not camel knee bone but a cowrie shell, and looked very ‘junkie’. Mohammed was very cleaver in is persuasion but I could not come at 700Dh (A$120) for this piece of junk, even including the cost of the cup of over sweet tea. Anyway with lots of back and forwards and by this time we were back in the vehicle and I had started the vehicle engine and ready to drive away the price was concluded at 50Dh (A$9.00). With much kissing of Lyn’s hands in appreciation, we considered it an expensive cup of tea with a piece of junk jewellery as a bonus.

The country has changes to vast gibber plains as we head towards Todra Gorge in the High Atlas. We camped in Todra Gorge at the town of Tinerhir, at de Soeil Camp ground.

Camp 12: Todra Gorge Camp. Distance travelled: 226Kms. Total: 4192Kms.

Tuesday 11th March: Today and tomorrow we plan to do some off road tracks (pistes) between Todra Gorge and Dades Gorge crossing the High Atlas Mountains at 27,000metres. I had downloaded from the internet some brief directions from previous adventurers, and with a few local directions we headed off.

The piste followed the water course up the valley. Initially steep vertical walls on both sides, finally breaking into slightly wider valley as we climbed past 23,000 metres. The surrounding country is dry and barren, the hill people or Berbers just etching a living from herding goats and crudely growing potatoes, carrots and wheat in small isolated wet patches of the river valley. Finally the piste winds its way out of the valley up a snaked road cut into the mountain side onto the high plateau at the mountain pass of Tzi Tierherouzine at 2.7Km high.

Women are walking along the road carrying huge piles of sticks and the local bushes for the fire back home. We can not see any timber so consider they must travel quite some distance with this heavy load carried on much arched backs. At the village of Agoudal we had lunch at the local café. The Bruchette or shashlik as we know it and salad was good washed down with that sweet tea.

Leaving town we headed higher into the mountains on a much smaller piste. At 27,000 metres snow blocked the road. It had turned to ice, and below was soft clay, added to that the side slope angled the wrong direction towards the steep drop off way below. I do not need adventure like this. So we returned to the 27,000metre mountain pass at Tizi Teiherouzine, and camped the night alone and high in the snow covered Atlas.

Camp 13: 27,000metre Camp. Distance travelled: 126Kms. Total: 4318Kms.

Tuesday 12-13th March: Well we thought we would be alone, at 8.30pm that night however 3 Berber men approached the vehicle and called out “Want to buy hashish?” Following my decline “Do you have Bom Bom?” I thought this meant smokes, but we learn later in the day that it means lollies. They left us in peace to enjoy out mountain top camp in seclusion.

We could not find the other road across the top of the mountains to Dade’s Gorge so retraced our steps down Toda Gorge and then the main road to Dade’s. It was market day at Boumaine so wandered around the markets and purchased our eggs, and a few dates. We also spot a seller of colourful spices; coffee, ginger, tamarind, cumin, nutmeg, cinnamon, and curry.

Dade’s Gorge is just as spectacular, the valley floor is green with new wheat, and trees are either flowering pink almonds or figs about to break bud. At the end of the gorge the road snakes itself back and forth up a near vertical incline. At the top we turn round and camp in the valley village. We are now resigned to camp ground accommodation as the norm.

This morning we watch the women cut both local grass on the road verge and field grown grasses for drying as winter feed. The young boys carry manure on donkey back to fertilise the fields. All very slow intensive work.

Heading to Ouarzazate, we stop for lunch and shared cooked pigeon, chips and salad. Very tasty. We have now left the Atlas Mountains and now travelling over vast rolling gibber plains heading south east. Still villages manage to edge a living from this arid area.

From Ouerzazate, we turn east in the direction of the Sahara Desert again and follow the Draa River Valley. This valley is known as “The valley of a 1,000 Kasbahs”. As we descend from the dry strataed plateau we can see the meandering river valley and the green date palms stretch off into the distance.

Tonight we are camped amongst the palms in the valley. Our pre-dinner drinks accompanies by olives, dates, and some French cheese.

Camp 15: Date Palm Camp. Distance travelled: 176 + 223Kms. Total: 4717Kms.

Tuesday 14th March: Our day started with a two hour tour of the old Ksour or fortified stronghold, and its associated Kasbar at Tamnougalt. Built around 400AD, for a mud construction if has withstood time well.

All day we followed the Draa River valley and its date palm filled valley towards the desert. As we reached the more modern town of Zagora the air began to fill with dust blown up from the winds over the Sahara. The river has cut its way down from the plateau, but we must follow the snake road around and down the mountain edges until finally we pass out onto a dust filled plain. We know that 18Kms before the end of the road at the town of M’Hamid that there is a piste that leads out into the Sahara dune field. We find a track and guestimate that it is the correct one. We have no GPS readings for the dunes but know that from ‘Lonely Planet’ they are approx 50Kms east of M’Hamid.

We let the tyres down to 28psi and happily travel along. It is lateish in the afternoon so we cross-country to some dunes to the south and call camp. With deck chairs in hand, drinks and nibblies, we climb the dunes and watch the sun set. It is a shame that the air is so filled with dust; it does not make photography conducive.

Camp 16: Dune Camp. Distance travelled: 235Kms. Total: 4952 Kms.

Tuesday 15th March: The wind had settled over night and hence the air much clearer today. We are still in the now dry Draa River Valley but it has now spread out over a 20 kilometre wide valley, bounded by the hills of our far right (North) and the small sized dune field to our left (South). Hence my plan was to find the big 300metre high dunes we just drive west for 50K’s, keeping the dune field in site on my left as we tracked down the valley.

We crossed gibber plains, and sandy river valleys, often we had to skirt smaller dune fields, but occasionally we had to punch through them. At 45K’s from the turn off we arrive at Erg Chigaga Morocco’s largest dunes at 310metres.

There are a few scattered tents catering for the more adventurous camel trekkers. (3 days by camel out from M’Hamid) From one of these tents, three men wave us down; reluctant at first, we accept their offer of tea. It is around mid day and that sand storm was brewing again. Visibility was down to 50 metres and the sand blowing off the tops of the dunes, and really impossible to go outside. We pleasantly accept their invitation to join them for lunch. The local speciality is tajine, (like a hot pot), but because they have no refrigeration it is all vegetables.

All afternoon the wind blows, Lyn is reading her ‘Who’ magazine and the three guys take an interest. Each reads it from cover to cover, well looks at the pictures anyway, and Lyn explains the stories. Lhsan (Lassin) has discovered the sudoku and is intent on completing the puzzle. Eventually we must tear out the page so he can continue.
The head man is Mbark, is brother runs the office in M’Hamid organising the camel trekkers to here, where Mback looks after them well. I am keen to move on but Mback insists we stay for dinner of Couscous. These guys are really genuine so we accept.

It is only 3pm, so Mback suggests he leads us to the top of the biggest dune. It is quite a climb but rewarding. The view to the south of this dune overlooks one of the stages of the Paris-Dakar event.

Preparation of a couscous dinner is a 3 hour event, no 3 minute couscous here. Hence we spend this time comfortably in their rudimentary but adequate kitchen watching he preparation as we chat. Lhsan is still hard at work trying to solve the sudoku. Now his two friends are trying to help and that really confuses the issue. Finally there are so many options on the original piece of paper that the initial numbers have to be copied again and again on to new bits of paper.

The soup, followed by couscous and vegetables was great. This was followed by some singing by Mback, his friend Mohammed, and Lhsan on native drums.

Lyn and I were truly impressed with these guys. Friendly, well spoken, and very genuine.
They can be contacted at http://www.caravanerenard.com/ or caravanerenard@yahoo.fr

The air is now cool and clear, and we camp where the truck is parked out side the camel rug clad desert tents.

Camp 17: Desert Fox Caravan Camp. Distance travelled: 81Kms. Total: 5034Kms.

Tuesday 16th March: This morning the air is clear again. Mback suggested yesterday that we could follow the valley another 80Kms to the outpost of Fourm Zguid, then head north on the road and pick up our planned trip. We agree this sounded great.

As we leave the sudoku puzzle is still unsolved.

For 30kms we follow a very soft sandy track along the edge of the dunes. The Canter handles it well and we float over one small dune after another following beside what is left of the mighty Draa River. Finally we are on the remnants of a vast dry lake. Mback said the last time this had water was in 1945. A flat plain with nothing in every direction, except for that water mirage at the edge of the every horizon.

Our rout had taken us along a path within 40Kms and parallel to the Algerian border, so it was not surprising that eventually we would be stopped at a military outpost and a scant check of our documents. It was then a very rough stony track into Fourm Zguid where we lunched beside the bitumen road that would take us all the way back to Ouarzazate on the edge of the High Atlas again.

We are camped at the UNESCO world heritage site of Benhaddou, apparently the most exotic and best preserved Kasbar in the Atlas region. That will be tomorrow’s discovery!
Camp 18: Benhaddou Kasbar Camp. Distance travelled: 258Kms. Total: 5292Kms.

Morocco Part 1

2008-03-10T21:23:00.000+10:00

Thursday 6th March 2008: We were awoken at 6am this morning from our car park sleep with the prayer calling from the 20 or so mosques in the immediate vicinity. Now we know we are in Morocco.
The streets were busy yesterday evening, but this morning they are quite up until 10am. We indulged in some very strong, but good local coffee and some very sweet but tasty cakes waiting for the internet to open. My memory stick decided not to work so it was a challenge to find a new one. The locals are very friendly and are keen to help. And with that help we found upstairs room selling computer stuff and our 1GB stick for less than A$20, and of course, plus the 7 Dirhams (A$1.20) tip for the friendly help.
We left own around midday and followed a valley into the Riff Mountains and to the town of Chefchaouen. The town is wedged onto the side of the mountains, the small streets steep but the surrounding views picturesque. We parked the truck and walked up and down the busy streets which were cluttered with vendors selling the local produce: oranges, lots of good looking greens and vegies, eggs, live chickens, and fresh meat. Intermingled are myriads of second hand shoes and clothes, then the hardware requirements for local farmers.
Now on the other side of the Riff Mountains we are camped near the old Roman ruins of Volubilis. Having two hours as the sun set was a perfect time to explore. Typical Roman columns and paved streets, waterfalls, and fast courtyards, this must have been impressive in its time. Atop two of the largest columns were two stalk nests, the young chicks attended to by both parents.
We disobeyed our own rule in trying to find a camp site before sunset, and finished paying a local 15Dh (A$2 and a bit) to camp beside his ‘shop’ Well more a bench with some rock displayed that he is trying to sell. I guess we will have to look at this tomorrow morning before we are allowed to leave!
Camp No 8: Roman Ruins Camp. Distance Travelled: 269Kms Total: 3260Kms

Friday 7th March: As we arose at 7am this morning out new found friend was eagerly awaiting for us to alight from the vehicle. Well, he had to wait until we had had our first cup of coffee. Now that we were ready to move he ran over with a bag of rocks, hat turned out to be lumps of calcite, not very exciting, but he wanted to swap these for some clothes. Well at least that is what we concluded. As I tried to give the rocks back, he refused, only running away and returning with two crudely made clay cooking stands. I really did not have a shirt that I had to give away, so we settled on 4 biros, a smile, a firm hand shake, and for Lyn, a cuddle and a kiss!
As we drove, only 2 kilometres past where we turned around last night was a camping ground. But we do have a bag of useless rocks to remember the evening.
Arriving at Meknes, we parked the truck, and headed off into the medina. This is the old walled part of the city. Mud houses packed tightly together, streets or lanes so narrow some of them you can touch both sides with outstretched arms. They were like a maze. More than once we were lost, it was only the inbuilt GPS that saved us. Past shoe and clothing stalls, mattress stuffers, and bed makers, we found the fresh food markets, and from different stalls we purchased our supplies.
Heading deep into the east of Morocco we started to climb the Atlas Mountains. At 2,500metres we could see the spectacular snow capped High Atlas in the distance.
Descending back into the valley, we are camped at Timnay, with a group of French campervans, and with those snow capped mountains as a backdrop.
Camp No 9: French Tourist Camp. Distance Travelled: 263Kms. Total: 3460Kms

Saturday 8th March: Couple of small problems to start the day with, firstly he computer has started to again split its pages into 5 horizontal pages, making downloading of our photographs impossible, although I have a work around for ‘word’. Secondly we are constantly running out of small change. The ATM’s are plentiful, but we get 200Dh notes and they are too big for the vendors.
The area we are driving through is like the Grand Canyon. The Ziz River has cut a huge canyon through surrounding sedimentary layers, and we follow the river for 200Kms all the way into the Sahara Desert where it eventually disappears. The surrounding country is a palaeontologist’s paradise; beside the road are sellers of fossils. I check out a few, but am pleased we did not buy anything until we reached south of Erfoud. At the Museum of Fossils I acquired a very nice Trilobite and a 10cm Dinosaur tooth for 150Dh each (about A$20).
Beside the river are date palms and typical square mud brick houses. Along the road the locals use donkeys as the means of transport, both for themselves and their produce. The men are dressed in jellaba the traditional robes, and the women like wise attired. If it was not for the satellite dishes on the house rooves, the scene would be just out of a religious story
Eventually the mountains disappear, and the ground gives way to a flat gibber plain. In the distance appear the huge Sahara Sand Dunes of Erg Chebbi.
It is beside these dunes we are camped tonight, in a tourist camp. Dinner was a traditional Moroccan mince dish, with lots of fresh salad.
Camp No 10: Sahara Desert Camp. Distance Travelled: 313Kms Total: 3774Kms

Sunday 9th March: We started today with the obligatory sunrise camel trek up the dunes. It was still dark at 5.45am when we rose to a chilly morning. For about an hour we slowly climbed the big dunes. We both commented on the fact that we were pleased it was only for an hour and not an all day trip. The single humped camel is not at all comfortable on the pelvis. Sitting on the dues top we watched the sun rise over the Algerian mountains to a give a hazy mist over the valley, unfortunately it was not concussive to photography.
Our destination was the furtherest point that Morocco stretched into the Sahara and on the very edge of Algeria. Tarouz was the small village where the road ends, and has nothing to offer other than the locals indicating to turn around. I had other plans; the maps show a dotted line up the other side of the valley that would return us about 50Kms from whence we started. It was a rough sandy track, or piste in Moroccan. We think we are isolated but at three junctions where we are thinking which way to go, miraculously a local appears on a small motor bike happy to help with directions…for a few Dirhams of course.
The locals are very friendly, especially the young ones, always waving at the road side. But we are getting a bit annoyed at the constant haggling for money. If you stop on the side of the road to take a photograph someone is always running to you to offer tours, camel rides, camping, or just to charge you parking fees.
Finally we are moving in the correct GPS direction, unaided by willing helpers. Travelling over vast gibber plains and folded sedimentary ridges, we discover a valley where the rocks are rich with fossils. Ammonites, and other shell fish are in a continuous line of strata. Naturally this line has been dug over to supply all those tourist shops we see on the road side. It was however nice to add a couple of self found pieces to our collection of fossils.
Our plan was to free camp next to the big red Sahara dunes, but every place we thought was looking promising already had a series of mud houses or a tourist camp. It is hard to find a quiet spot even in the Sahara Desert. We forget that a country that has been inhabited for thousands of years has every good spot already spoken for. Finally after numerous attempts we settle for a small valley overlooking the dunes. We are about 12kms off the road, but even here vehicles drive by, and even the odd tourist train of camels out for a sunset ride appear over the rise. Finally after sunset, all is quiet.
Camp 11: Hard to find Isolation Camp.
Distance travelled: 191Kms. Total: 3965Kms.

GoannaTracks South to Morocco

2008-03-06T20:47:00.000+10:00

UK, France, Andorra, Spain, Ceuta (the Spanish enclave in Nth Africa).

Tuesday 26th –Thursday 28th February 2008: We arrived in London after a long 36 hours of travelling, and then jumped on a 3 hour train trip to Devon where our truck is stored. It is now 8.30 in the evening and was kindly met by Simon Buck of Devon 4x4. Simon had been storing our vehicle since our arrival from our Russian expedition in October 07.

Our plan is to head south to Morocco for 4 weeks of touring. Morocco was chosen for two reasons, firstly, we like the idea of the vast open spaces and the proximity to the great Sahara Desert, and secondly we plan to compete in the Morocco Outback Challenge in out competition vehicle in 2009, so this gives us the opportunity to check out the region. Besides, a road tour of the museums and churches of Europe does not appeal.

It only took 5 hours to prep the vehicle before we said our goodbyes to Devon and headed out to Poole for our overnight passage to Cherbourg in France. Our only negative was that a lot of items stored in the vehicle had gone mouldy with the wet English weather. In Poole we found a laundromat, or as they call it locally a laundrette and that rectified most of the mould.

Once in France I was surprised how quickly I fell into the system of driving on the wrong side of the road. One of our first needs was to restock our larder for our travels so it w
as into a French supermarket. French wine, real Champagne, pâté, and cheeses were not on the list but I could not resist.

South of Rennes we exited the freeway and visited the small coastal sea port of Granville and then the UNESCO World Heritage site of Le Mont St-Michel. This is a magnificent old abbey set on an island rock just off the coast.

We had originally planned to travel further south, but jet lag and lack of sleep was catching up. We headed to what we thought looked like a quiet coastal town of St Nazaire but it turned out to be a large industrial port. In such a large town it was difficult to find a quiet isolated spot to set camp and all the ‘camping’ grounds we saw were closed because it was no longer summer. Finally we found a camp ground open. The young lady could only speak French and wrote down the price on the booking form. Euro42 seemed extremely expensive, but with 10 hours sleep in he last 3 days, I had just enough left in me to ask ‘why so expensive?” By this time the owners wife had arrived and said “Why do you think the price of 12 Euro it is expensive?” Then I had to explain and apologise to the young lady because I had misread her European writing of 12 as 42. That night we slept for 10hours!

Camp 1 – Wrong Price Camp, St Nazaire. Distance Travelled: 664Kms

Friday 29th February: We have been driving past towns with household names. In the UK it was Axminster (carpets), and then in France, it was Chateaubriand (steak), Bordeaux, Cognac, and Cadillac. Our destination was Toulouse where we had pre-booked a tour of the Airbus A380 assembly plant. We turned of the autobahn about 20kms from Toulouse to find a camp site and a restaurant. Lyn had had enough of highway food and wanted anything but pizza. As luck would have it, the only place we found was a pizza restaurant.

Camp was in the middle of the provincial town Grenade at a designated site for motor homes. Very noisy but OK.

Camp 2 – Grenade Town Camp. Distance Travelled: 649Kms. Total: 1313Kms

Saturday 1st March: Our morning walk around town rewarded us with market day. We had to indulge in more pâté, fresh salad items, and a typical French breakfast of coffee and croissants.

The Airbus tour was great. From manufacturing plants all over Europe the final assembly is done here in Toulouse. For a mere Euro 220 to 275 Million you too can have one. Just keep in mind that if you want more than one, they will offer a discount for quantity!! To date 189 have been sold, including to Qantas, 50 to Emirates, and one privately.

After getting lost exiting Toulouse we are now camped halfway up the Pyrenees Mountains separating France from Spain. A very idilic commercial camp set in the valley of steep mountains. We can see snow in the distance!

Camp 3 – Pyrenees Mountain Camp. Distance Travelled: 156Kms. Total: 1469Kms

Sunday 2nd March: It was a lazy start to today, about midday before we got on the road, but it was Sunday so that was OK….and it was a cold 6’C. There actually was another reason. The Pyrenees Mountains are dotted with caves that show signs of pre-ice age habitation, and we have pre-arranged a 2.30pm tour of one of the largest. The Grotto de Niaux was a ceremonial cave, and 1200metres into the cave was a large cavity, there on the walls were etchings of Bison, Ibex, and horses done in black charcoal. These etchings were 15,000 years old! This is real history.

The afternoons drive was up an impressive snaking road to 2,500metres and the country of Andorra. The snow cover increased as we drove. Finally as we crossed the border and into the town of Pas de La Casa, the snow fields surrounded the town, with ski lifts and slopes everywhere. Andorra is a duty free country and the streets are busy with traffic and shoppers. For us the greatest benefit was that fuel was 30% cheaper than France.

Dinner was at a sidewalk café with perhaps too much sangria, and our camp was amongst perhaps 50 other European motor homes in the Pas de La Casa car park.

Camp 4: Pas de La Casa Car Park Camp.
Distance Travelled:75Kms Total: 1544Kms

Monday 3rdMarch:C Leaving camp we took the more indirect route to the capital of Andorra de Vella. Winding up and down the steep mountains, often the road twisted above and below us as it twisted down near vertical slopes. The snow was up to half a metre deep on the side of the road. Soon we crossed the border into Spain. Customs only giving a quick look into the camper and asking about the quantity of cigarettes and liqueur.

As we wound our way down from the Pyrenees the country dried out. Olive trees and what we think are peach trees dominate the fields beside the road. We decided to free camp tonight, but in a country that has been populated for thousands of years there is not an inch of free ground. Every side road leads to a house; off the main freeways olive trees are right to the road verge. By 7.30pm we are looking for ever smaller roads, and take the exit to the town of Xatia. Within that town we get lost and finish up driving up increasingly narrower streets, until finally we clip the door awning of one house with the side mirror of the truck. This excites a very old man who rattles lots and lots in Spanish. We frequent the ‘sorry’ word as we back off is house trying not to run over his motorbike. We are at this time really craving for the open spaces of Australia, I would even settle for the treeless plains of Mongolia, or the steppes of Russia. I am so pleased the vehicle is only 2metres wide as we finally exit the tight streets.

Finally we are out of town and at 8.30pm find a side road to set camp, but only before we disturb a couple practicing the Karma sutra in the front seat of a small compact.

Dinner was an extra strong rum for me and a vodka for Lyn, followed by some French cheese on bread.

Camp No 5: Lovers Lane Camp. Distance Travelled: 608Kms Total: 2152Kms

Tuesday 4th March: Today we follow the E15 or AP7 down the coast through the provinces of Valencia, Andalusia, and Malaga. The country is generally dry and stony, with vast sedimentary layered deposits making up all the topography. In the north endless fields of oranges, and as we head south the agriculture is under thousands of acres of plastic. In these green houses tomatoes are the main crop, and there must be millions of tones grown in this region.

Dotted along the coast are some beautiful typical Spanish houses, and in the built up areas huge complexes of tourist condominiums. I fail to comprehend the ‘investment’ in such mega structures. The air is constant smog, and the horizon indistinguishable from the sky to the sea. There are no quiet spots along this Mediterranean Coast.

South of Malaga, is a continuous line of hotels, apartments and condominiums. We manage to find by good luck and not by good management a camping ground on the main road. Although busy it is welcome, and with a long shower, and a bottle of that French Champagne all is good. For tomorrow we board the ship for Africa!

Camp No 6: Mediterranean Seaside Camp.
Distance Travelled: 625Kms Total: 2778Kms

Wednesday 5th March: Today the prices of the condominiums have risen, because we have blue sky, and I can see the horizon. The reason is because we now have a strong cold wind that has blown all that smog away.

We follow the Mediterranean Coast all the way south until we can see the Rock of Gibraltar. As we head south the condos, and the houses become grander. Strangely, purple is the colour of choice for the most expensive.

At the Spanish port of Algeciras, we find our way to the high speed ferry loading point. We are about an hour and a half too early and the locals are already profiteering from us by charging €11 for parking the vehicle in the line up. It is not really a ferry, more of a super large high speed catamaran that carried cars, trucks and 800 passengers. The crossing takes only 45 minutes and we are in the continent of Africa.

Arriving in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta, we immediately set about to do 4 things. Purchase a Morocco map (impossible), find an internet Café (no can do), buy an ipod because it is a duty free port and ours is broken (very little selection available, so no go) and fill up with cheap diesel – Yes we achieved this. At €.90/Lt compared to Spain at €1.30 and France €1.50 (A$2.50). Fortunately our full tank from Andorra lasted the 1500Kms to here.

It took a little time to locate the border crossing to Morocco, and about one hour to complete the formalities. Our biggest problem is that we still do not have the 3rd party Green Card. I tried for weeks to get one in the UK on the internet. I also tried personal contacts in France, and the original Green Card supplier in Latvia. All unsuccessfully. We need one for Morocco, but the sales office at the border has closed down. An ‘official’ tourist guide helped us through the paper trail and cleared it with the border chief. He then accompanied us in the truck for some 35 minutes to the town of Tetouan to buy insurance. At the insurance office they explained they do not sell Green Card insurance. So not sure where to from here. The ‘guide’ said the papers we have are OK, but I am not so sure. Watch this space>>>

We are now camped in the car park in the centre of Tetouan. Walked through the medina, (the old markets of the town inside the walled city), spent 20minites saying NO, we do not want to buy carpets, and just had a great meal of soup, and meat & salads in a local very busy market shop.

We did however have another win…we purchased a Morocco road map

Camp No7: Tetouan Carpark Camp. Distance Travelled:150Kms Total:

The Final Leg - Across Europe + Trip Costs

2007-09-30T19:17:00.000+10:00

22-30th September: Our drive west to London started with the 4x4 track out of the Russian 4x4 competition area and continually improved from dirt roads, to country roads, two lane Russian highways with their usual unevenness, to Poland’s 4 lane toll freeway, then Germany’s 6 and 8 lane autobahns. The reality had hit us that the adventure was drawing to a close.

There would be no more visits from the Mongolian herdsmen, nor the Vodka drinking friendly Russians. Now we are just one of the many vehicles zapping along the highway a hurry to get somewhere. One does not even feel part of the country as you pass through. These super highways are contained within by long concrete barriers keeping out the surrounding world.

I had driven over 24 thousand kilometres when we arrived at the Latvian border, and only then, did one of the officials notice that my international drivers licence was valid up to 3,500 kilo, when our vehicles weighed 4490 kilo. (The GMV on the registration papers.) In Australia our standard licence is valid for 4,500 kilo, but not the international one. This I had also not noticed. After 2 hours of discussion the three stared official came out of the ‘Control’ building and said “One vehicle Latvia, one vehicle Ruski”. Bill fortunately had a truck licence hence he did not have a problem. When we said to the official “How do we get to London?” his response was “You can walk, or go by bus, but the vehicle stays in Russia”
“But…But.” Etc as I try to persuade him

“It is not my problem!” was his response as he walked away to prepare the deportation papers.

We had a young lady, one of the border control officials, translating for us, who I felt was a little on our side. With her help, I thought we may have a solution. What if we returned to ‘No mans land’ in the middle where the Duty Free Shop was, we could perhaps arrange for one of truck drivers to drive my vehicle across the border. The three stared official stated there were cameras watching and the paperwork had already been done, so that could not happen.

Our hearts sank, and as we were madly planning our next move to leave the truck in Russia and fly back to Australia to obtain the necessary paperwork, a second three stared official arrived on the scene. He seemed to grasp the situation and immediately arranged a driver from a passing van to jump in my truck and drive it to a holding area within Latvia. Lyn and I could now proceed to have our passports stamped and walk through the gates into Latvia.

Somewhere in this whole process we had become real people, not just another number in the procession through the border. That, and some fast, and friendly talking saved the day. This may also serve as a warning to other travellers to recognise the weight difference on our driver’s licences. Technically I am driving illegally in Europe – but only if I get caught!

As we approached the border from Russia into Latvia there was a long line of trucks but nothing like the 49 Kilometres that were waiting to enter Russia from Latvia. The distance we measured; and yes, 49 kilometres. There must have been thousands of trucks and one can only imaging the costs of all that freight standing idle for days. It is a fair indication of the exploding demand in Russia for foreign goods and the rapid growth of the economy.
Similarly from Germany to Poland the truck line stretched for 22 kilometres.
In the Netherlands we caught up with Fred Krijgsman. Fred, a freelance journalist and photographer for many 4x4 magazines, I have known for years having met him during events in Malaysia, New Zealand and many Outback Challenges. We camped in the trucks outside his house that his family has occupied for 98 years. The house and street were both narrow, the vehicles making an unusual addition to the old neighbourhood.

Following doing the Holland windmill thing, we headed south and crossed the English Channel by ferry. Feeling initially a little uncomfortable back on the right side of the road, we settle in quickly, and dropped in at Canterbury, Stonehenge, and Bath for the tourist thing on our way to Devon.

The vehicles are now cleaned. Bill’s prepared for the container journey back to Australia, and ours, left here to be collected when we return to continue our travels.

Camp 93-94: Simon & Liz Buck’s - Devon 4x4
Current Position: UK

Highlights: Not having to go back to Russia when Latvia would not accept my drivers licence, Holland, and catching up with friends in Holland and the UK,

Total Distance of trip: 25,500 Kilometres

Currently our plans are to return in February 2008 to spend 6 weeks exploring Morocco, Mauritania, and Senegal, then in July/August to see Ireland and Scotland. The eventual plan is to return to Morocco in 2009 and cross the Sahara to Egypt and drive to Cape Town. Plans change…but I must start with a plan.

Many travellers would ask, “It must be expensive travelling like this?” I do not believe so.

Firstly we carried our own accommodation, and we only stayed in hotels for a total of 6 days in 4 months. Food we mostly purchased in local markets and prepared ourselves, or eat at small road side truck stops. Travelling in undeveloped Eastern Russia and Mongolia was the best, western Russia was a too much of a road trip. Our costs in Mongolia for food (and we eat well), drink (wine, beer, spirits) and entry to national parks etc was A$2.90 per person per day. Eastern Russia was probably around A$4.50 per person per day.

Hence fuel is the main expense:
Vladivostok to Magadan – 5,400Km, 900Lt, A$861.00. 17Lt/100Km or 16.5mpg. This section we were pushing fast!
Magadan to Mongolia – 5,950Km, 792Lt, A$849.00. 13Lt/100Km or 21mpg
Mongolia – 5250Km, 604Lts, A$1017.00. 13Lt/100Km or 21mpg.
Mongolia to St Petersburg – 7027Kms, 1008Lts, $698.00 12Lt/100Km or 23mpg.
St Petersburg to Devon(UK) – 4280Kms, 275Lts, $816.00

The trip has been great. The best experiences happened when they were not planned.

The friendship and help provided by the Orista Company in Port Vostochny during our three week delay in getting the vehicles.
The 3 Russian firemen who arrived at our camp site to go swimming, and ended up drinking mates.
Breakfast at the Zamackta Weather Station, after asking directions on logging tracks to Lake Baikal.
The numerous Mongolian herdsmen who dropped in to say ‘hello’ and finished asking us back to their ger camp.
The camel train that arrived out of the desert at our ‘isolated’ camp.
The invitations to the 4x4 competitions
And the people.

Until the next adventure
Cheers
Kym & Lyn

St Petersburg, The Vesskiy 4X4 Competition

2007-09-22T09:24:00.000+10:00

18-21st September: St Petersburg is spectacular, and as I said with Moscow, a must see before you leave this planet. The city was built by Tsar Peter the Great in the 18th century as his summer residence and as a showcase city to the word. He achieved this and created perhaps one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Exotic and opulent buildings, canals and fountains. Without creating a tourist log, our highlight was the hermitage; the winter palace that is now a museum. Stocked full of Rubens, Rembrandts and the odd Leonardo da Vinci; thousands of other paintings; then there is the palace fittings; gold leafed roofs; malachite and lapis lazuli 2metre high vases; marble staircases, thousands of square metres of inlayed timber floors using up to 75 different timbers, etc etc. The photos we took only touch on the grandeur.
We spent the next day touring other sights, but being Wednesday many were closed, hence we headed out of town, but not before stopping in at the Piskaryovskoe Cemetery where half a million WWII victims are buried in mass graves. This is as a result of starvation when the Germans surrounded the city and tried to wipe St Petersburg from the face of the earth. Actually one million died in the 900 days of the siege; up to 30,000 died per day. Very moving as you stand overlooking the mass of symmetrically laid out head stones.

On to more exciting things, we had an invitation from Yuri Ovchinnikov, who runs the Ladoga 4x4 Trophy, to see one of the finals of the Russian 4x4 Challenge – The Vesskiy Forrest 4X4 Event. We arrived at the competition site around midnight some 300 kilometres from St Petersburg.

The vehicles were varied and some very impressive chain driven trucks with up to 3 winches weighing only 1300 kilo. The competition is very well run all ‘controlled’ by GPS tracking. Over 400 PS points, 280 Kilometres all to do in 52 hours, through mostly swamps, clay overgrown hills and chest deep rivers. Interesting is that all four levels of trucks, and the quad bikes do the same course. This is all done with only 5 competition managers/marshals.
Now we have a 4 day drive to London from Russia via Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Germany, Holland, France, and finally England. 4 days 8 countries.

Camp 86: Last Night in Russia near Latvian Border
Highlights: St Petersburg and its Hermitage Museum, Top Russian 4x4 Comp.

Total Distance to Date: 22,094 Kilometres

Moscow

2007-09-18T19:40:00.000+10:00

12-18th September: Moscow is a dynamic city, I would put it as a must see (+ St Petersburg) in one’s life. For Australia, white mans history is so recent, here buildings and events are dated from the 13 hundreds. What I find impressive is that so much history is still intact.

We walked our legs off and metro’d (the underground train) for 3 days, and covered only some of the best. We paid our respects to Boris Yelsen, Khrushchev, Raisa Gorbachev, and Stalin’s second wife – Nadezhda at the cemetery. We walked the streets and marvelled at the upmarket shops in Arbat and the newly finished and remodelled GUM department store. Most impressive was viewing Russia’s Diamond collection of rough and cut Diamonds, and the hundreds of Gold and Platinum nuggets in the Kremlin. On top of our list were the old weapons and suits of armour in the Armoury.

Unfortunately Red Square was closed for the Military Tattoo Festival so we were unable to see neither the Square nor the embalmed Mr Lenin, not that he should be admired for the atrocities he committed.

We had an invitation to a local 4x4 club event some 180 kilometres north of Moscow towards St Petersburg, so we gratefully accepted. At club level the vehicles were not as well developed as our competition trucks, however their driving style was impressive. Using mostly UAZ 4x4’s, these were chopped, and lifted, and for tyres - Supper Swamper up to 36”x 14” but no lockers – yet! Power was not great but in the swamps these light weight vehicles and big tyres did well. Invariably on the hill climbs the small diffs often broke. With petrol engines well waterproofed, they proved their survival by driving through water that covered the bonnet.
At event presentation, I presented to one competitor an ‘Outback Challenge’ beanie. In a near standard UAZ with 33” tyres he drove with his brain through the course and I thought deserved recognition. He came 3rd in the competition, being beaten only by much modified vehicles. The club president also presented to the four of us club bandannas.
Now in an apartment in St Petersburg, we have two days to see the sights. Not really enough time, but we again have an invitation to see one of the top events in the 4x4 Competition World using highly modified vehicles. This is only 250K’s out of St Petersburg so we are going there, before we make the dash to the UK. We are unable to change the dates of our tickets as all flights are full for the next 20 days so we are confirmed to leave Heathrow on the 3rd October.

Camp 82-83: St. Petersburg private apartment

Highlights: Moscow Kremlin Museums, particularly Russian’s Diamond Fund and the Armoury, a local 4X4 Comp
Total Distance to Date: 21,300 Kilometres

Barnaul to Moscow

2007-09-11T21:33:00.000+10:00

6-11th September 2007: And what a road trip is was. First a 435K day then 700,785, 840, 667, and our final run into Moscow at 400kilometres. It was Bill and Gay’s part of the trip that they were responsible for and they will led us across Russia, until I pick up the lead again as we exit Russia into Estonia and to the UK. The road conditions varied continually, but generally improved as we headed west into the more populated areas. It was agreed that we should cover this part of the country relatively quickly, giving us more time in Moscow. At least 4 days for the city, and Andrey from the Russian 4x4 magazine suggested the possibility of seeing a 4x4 competition on the weekend.

After leaving the city of Barnaul we travelled long flat roads by endless wheat fields. The fields although vast in size were intermingled with clumps of birch trees. The country is very flat on the 600 kilometres road from Novosibirsk to Omsk the height above sea level never changed by more than 5 metres, it was to be another 1500K before we saw a rise above 100metres.

We think of Australia as a big country – think again, because Russia is hard to comprehend the size.

I have always thought of the Urals Mountains as an impressive range; however it is mostly only low hills around 250 metres. What is impressive is that it divides Europe from Asia and stretches from the Artic Circle to the Caspian Sea. The oil and mineral wealth of this area is driving the Russian economy. In Tyumen, the economic centre of the Urals the sky line is filled with construction cranes. Beside the freeway the new vehicle show rooms of BMW, Skoda, Chrysler, and VW are as impressive as any I have ever seen. On the streets, the vehicles are just as impressive – Hummers, Porsche, VW Tourags etc.

Most of the major towns we bypass, but in Yekaterinburg we insist we stop, to sight the place that the Bolsheviks in 1918 murdered Tsar Nicholas II and the rest of the Romanov family. The original merchants building was destroyed in 1977 under orders from Boris Yeltin, but in its place, and to commemorate the above, is one of the most elaborate, and expensive Roman Orthodox Churches ever built. We meekly open the large wooden doors to be spellbound with the ornate gold facade stretching 5 stories or more up above us. Yekaterinburg has only been opened to foreigners since 1990 as it was of major importance to the military as a weapons developmental area and many of the rockets and planes are proudly on display in school yards and parks. In fact at the entrance to the city is a sample of the SAM rocket that shot down the American U2 spy plane during the height of the cold war in 1962.

It was Saturday night, and we walked the wide streets to find a rock band playing in the town centre. The music echoed around the buildings and large TV screens carried the pictures and advertisements. The old 18th and 19th century buildings intermingled with modern structures shows the richness of this city and surrounding area. It is the gateway to Siberia from the east and the mineral wealth of the Urals just to the west.

Camp 76-79: Hotel Milan, Moscow

Current Position: Moscow or /Mockba.
Highlights: 4,000 Kilometre Road Trip
Total Distance to Date: 20,400 Kilometres

Back in Russia

2007-09-06T21:35:00.000+10:00

Monday 3rd August 2007 continued: The border crossing into Russia was uneventful. About 2 hours on the Mongolian side, and the same time on the Russian side. Each is separated by 25 kilometres of no mans land. Interesting the temporary import documents for the vehicles we waited 3 weeks to get in Port Voschney took only 20 minutes here. We paid 10,000T (A$10) in Mongolia for something, and in Russia 80RUB (A$3.20) for quarantine, and 250RUB (A$10.00) for the vehicle import documents.

Currently we are camped in Russia about 175 kilometres north of the border, beside a fast flowing river. Either side the steep craggy mountains stretch up their snow covered peaks. The mountains are covered with pine or conifer trees and the river banks by these large ‘cork wood’ trees. The cork woods are slowly changing their leaf colour from green to orange and red. It is great to see trees again.
We are now in the Altai Mountains and expect some spectacular rugged scenery.

Camp 68: Altai River Camp

Current Position: Back in Russia (Altai region)
Highlights: Uureg Nuur, Achit Nuur, Olgly a Kazakh city, A drinking session with a Kazakh family. Border crossing to Russia.
Total Distance to Date: 16,150 kilometres

Tuesday 4-6th September: Since leaving the GPS spaghetti roads of Mongolia, it is obvious we are back in a prosperous community. The two lane bitumen road arrived immediately at the Russian border, and has grown wider and smoother ever since. Into Barnaul and it had grown into a 6 lane freeway. The pace of society is reflected in the driving habits, they are all racing to meet their Maker; passing on top of hills, blind corners etc. Many times we have to move off the road for oncoming traffic and break as they move back in. Testimony is the many road side memorials that dot the roads; set atop with a steering wheel, a picture of the deceased and surrounded by plastic flowers.

Autumn is starting to happen, the white barked Birch trees are changing from green to gold. Occasionally as we drive we are showered with falling golden leaves. Moving north we leave the high mountains and are in more agricultural areas. The road follows one river valley after another. The small river we camped by a couple of days ago is now a vast river with cruise boats. It hurried down the last 1200metres in grade 2 to 5 rapids, now it must slow down; it is only 250 metres above sea level and still must travel over 4,000 kilometres to the Artic Sea.

The shops and markets are full of consumer items, advertising billboards blast their message to ‘buy me’. In reality it is like home, so unfortunately the road seems only a drive to be done. Such a change from the openness and peace of country Mongolia.

Since leaving the border three days ago we have tried to get registration of our visas at Police stations, Post offices, and even border control points but to no avail. It is a requirement that they must be registered within 3 days of arrival, so we opted to ‘shout’ ourselves a stay in a hotel and get registration. Hotel Siberia in Barnaul provided all that, and a very, very long hot shower. We do have a hot shower every night in the camper, but one always had to be conservative with the water as we only carry 60 litres.

Now totally refreshed we head tomorrow towards Moscow.

Camp 70: Actually Hotel Siberia in Barnaul.
Current Position: Barnaul- Russia
Highlights: Autumn Leaves, Staying in Hotel and 20 minute shower!

Total Distance to Date: 17,023 Kilometres

Mongolia 5 - West to the Border

2007-09-03T21:42:00.000+10:00

Thursday 30th August: What a beautiful start to today. The three horsemen of yesterday evening arrived into our camp on a camel train. We ‘talked’ and shared tea and jam on bread.

We were each very impressed with our respective ‘machinea’ (car in Mongolian / Russian); they in our vehicles and us in their camel train. Finally after some Polaroid pics we all parted having touched another world.

Uvs Nuur is the largest fresh water lake in Mongolia, so large they call it a sea. Unfortunately it is very salty and devoid of any fish, surrounded by treeless desert we only stayed for our morning coffee break. As we approached Ulaangom, a small fresh water river flows into the desert from the surrounding mountains. On the river flood plain they are harvesting the native grasses and stacking them into huge piles on the back of trucks for winter feed. All this is done by hand, all very primitive by our standards.

Arriving at the markets in Ulaangom we had lunch at one of the many side stalls. One very large bowl of noodles and meat and that weak milky tea was 1,000T (A$1.00). The market stalls mostly sold Chinese imports, everything from generators to plastic kitchen wear, plus a vast cross section of clothing – Mongolian riding boots to Chinese children’s clothes, many with incorrect English spelt words. In the food hall we had many choices of meats again, this time we could also have chosen horse. Horse meat is dark orange red and was proudly displayed on the shelf above the horse head lying on the floor below. We bypassed that, and stayed with some lamb chops…well actually mutton ribs!

After updating the blog at the local internet, we purchased some fire wood for 1500T (A$1.50) and headed out of town. Just as we left town we noticed they were hand making bricks in the river bed and had them out in the sun to dry.

In Ulaangom we found the start of a bitumen road, the first we had seen for 5,000 kilometres. Travelling the stony desert plain we turned left off this new road onto a mountain valley track. This took us from the plain at 800metres up the valley to a mountain pass at 1,900metres, from here the country changed again completely. Now we are into grassy mountains as far as we can see. On the horizon in two directions are vast snow capped peaks. We are now entering the Mongolian Altai Mountain chain, this we will eventually follow into Russia.
Our camp was in a very private spot on the edge of Uureg Nuur (Lake). The water was mirror calm and reflected the 3,000metre mountains; unfortunately the air is hazy and disappointing for photography. The crystal clear water and rolled pebble beach was inviting us for a swim. Lyn, and with some encouragement, I indulged. As Lyn said “It was like a brain freeze from the legs up”.

Friday 31st August: Shortly after leaving the lake we passed some ancient burial sites containing ‘turkic balbals’. These are squat carved figurines from the 4th or 5th century. There were more of those piles of stones we had seen before but more elaborate, in wagon wheel pattern. Around the outside were then smaller circles again, and long lines of upright stones.
Crossing the next pass, on a very rough two wheeled track we climbed close to the Gods at 2,553metres. Spectacular views only marred by the haze. Proceeding down the other side I managed to get the vehicle bogged in some melting permafrost ground and had to be recovered by Bill’s winch.
Finally back into the valley (but still at 1500metres) we found two deer stones that are well preserved. We are becoming very proficient in archaeological discoveries.

Camp is by Achit Nuur (Lake), surrounded by those wondrous rugged mountains, and closer, grazing camels and horses. On the lake are magpie geese. Another magical orange sunset ends today.

Saturday 1st September: Following leaving the lake we crossed the only bridge we have seen for some time and began to follow the river valley. The river provides a micro climate in this semi arid area. Lush grasses grow beneath what I have guessed as cork wood trees. So lush is the area that the number of gers is significant. They are now Kazakh people in this area and their gers have a higher done than the Mongolian type. The Kazakhs migrate back and forth between Mongolia and Kazakhstan following the feed for their herds.

We give a lift to a family of four to the next village we are travelling to, but that plan falls apart as the town is on the other side of this major river, and there is no bridge. The track at this stage has all but disappeared and when he indicated that we can cross and puts his hand on TOP of the bull bar to indicate the water height, our immediate response is ‘No way’. The family then strangely and confidently continues with us on the hour drive to Olgly, the capital of this region.

Olgly is very different to other Mongolian towns, again that Kazakh influence. Gone are the gers in town, now we have mud over timber built square houses all with flat rooves. They are not, but they look like Mexican hacienda type. The markets also prove uninteresting to us, we think and hope we bought cow steak, but it could be horse!
Our plan to drive up the valley to the snow topped mountains was thwarted by being unable to cross that river, and also Bill’s decision that he did not want to drive back the 30 kilometres on the other side of the river from Olgly. Being Saturday, we had to kill some time as the border crossing is not open until Monday, hence we chose another valley in the border direction, but this proved an uninteresting drive in a mostly desert area.

Our camping spots have been breathtaking; tonight was just beside the track!

Sunday 2nd September: We were only 20 kilometres from the border so decided to go there just in case our information was wrong and it would be open. The border gates are definitely locked, and the small village of about 30 houses (actually huts) pretty much looked deserted. I chose to just back track 5 kilometres and pick a line up one of the treeless valleys where we would wait for the border to open tomorrow.

The afternoon drifted by until a singing herder on horseback dropped in to say hello. He was looking after his flock of 2,000 goats, and as the goats slowly walked by, he shared coffee with us. Eventually he left and we sat down to our afternoon drink. Within minutes the herder returns on his old motor bike with his son, two other relatives, a bottle of Vodka, and some dried uncooked goats meat. He is Kazakh, and from the ger further up the valley. Dauletchan, speaks Russian, has been a soldier for 3 years, studied vet science for four, been Mongolian boxing champion, and now happy he has his herd of goats. He pours the straight vodka into his shallow bowl, dips in his ring finger and flicked a drop to the sky, to the earth, and to the wind. With the vodka blessed the cup was passed around to all, each time being refilled.

Lyn and Gay are smart enough to say no after the first two, but Bill and I are building international bridges and continue. He wanted to buy my binoculars and I think is offering some goats in payment. I was still sober enough to resist. Bill was perhaps not so and in a profound gesture gave away his Outback Challenge beanie, AND his binoculars. We add another bottle from our store, and before I know it one of the brothers has also returned from the ger with more vodka. It was a good evening and Bill and I were staggering at the end. I am not quite sure how I still managed to cook dinner.

The next morning I am sure one of these vodka bottles was still sideways in my head.

Monday 3rd September: Dauletchan had invited us to visit his ger at 9am before we left for the border. Kazakh gers are far more colourful inside, and the walls were covered with very bright cloths. The timber roof supports were bright red against the white canvas, and these supports were interwoven with multi-colour belts of platted material. The inside was clean and very spacious. A pile of seven old style suitcases obviously were their clothes draws.

Dauletchan, had a wife, two sons and a daughter, I am not sure why, but last night I do recall he proudly showed us all that his nine year old son was circumcised!
His elder brother Ackmed also is married with two children. We all sit on the floor around the low table. On it, is a selection of sweets, the pastries we have seen cooked before in the animal fats, and some dried dairy product, which we have found to be not very pleasant tasting. The tea is very weak with yak milk. As we talk out come the vodka bottles, but we are smarter today and kindly refuse with the excuse that we have to drive across the border. Thankfully they accept this as a genuine excuse.

With the last of our Polaroid pictures taken of the family we depart Mongolia with great memories of a wide open country and friendly people.

Mongolia 4 - North Hovsgol Lake & Boorog Desert

2007-08-29T21:44:00.000+10:00

Thursday 23rd August: Last night, the temperature continued to drop to a very cold and windy 5 degrees. It is still raining and low cloud obscured any views of the mountains surrounding the lake. Occasionally the sun would break through and show us the light dusting of snow on the hills not so far from where we are camped. No point staying here, so after studying the maps we think we can short cut our way north to Moron about 200Kms. It is over the mountains, so driving in the wet and cold conditions would be great.
The tracks were in places slippery and some deep (about 1 metre) water crossings; however the views as we drive up and down the vast Granite mountains are specular. Some of the Granite boulders are balancing, but most are so large, they are the whole mountain - just one vast domed rock. At one pass we are at 2,350metres and a light snow is evident on the side of the road. The heater is on maximum in the cab.

Driving lush green valleys, you look up to the mountains capped with snow, pine trees about half way down, and the valley floor filled with grazing horses. The scene strongly reminds us of the Neanderthaloid images created in the book ‘Valley of the Horses’, a part of the ‘Clan of the Cave Bear’ series. When on top of the mountains it is ‘Sound of Music’ country. Hard to believe it is Mongolia after the vast deserts and open plains of the south.

The weather is kinder to us now and we make an early 3.30 stop in the place of an old ger camp site. It is beside a small creek and there are the remains of the circular ger pattern on the grass and some scattered timber for our fire. Tonight is lamb roast night so we need a couple of hours cooking time. Whilst the camp oven is on, and we are tinkering with the trucks we have a couple of local visitors who come and sit and watch what these strange foreigners are doing. After about an hour or so, their curiosity satisfied they move to check on their stock.

The Lamb Roast is beautiful.

Friday 24th August: Six degrees this morning but with no wind it is not really cold. Reaching the town of Moron, it is different again to others we have seen before; perhaps more frontier. Timber buildings like we saw in northern Russia and many of the locals in traditional attire, some riding horses through town. A real mixture of old and new. We really enjoyed the lamb roast so off the markets. A two kilo leg of lamb 6,400T (A$6.40) and two and half kilo of beautiful rump steak 7,000T (A$7.00) plus some potatoes onions etc we are set to go.

The road north to Hovsgol Lake was typically a mix bag of good road, tracks, and trails. We decided on the western shore and coming over the pass ahead of us was the most beautiful area in Mongolia. It is what I had imagined Lake Baikal would be like, but this is very special. Pine trees coming down from the bare 3,000metre slopes to a grass and pine tree lined blue lake. Not just blue but rich blue like the most tropical waters of a coral reef, and crystal clear. It is the clearest lake water I have ever seen.

We parked the vehicles on a small escarpment above the waters edge. As the sun goes down, the moon come up, and the storm clouds on the eastern horizon give off a great sunset display. We will stay here a couple of days.

The steaks were cut thick, about 30mm, and although a little tough tasted really good.

Saturday/Sunday 25/26th August: Two very relaxing days. The first, I guess we had trouble winding down from being always on the move. As Lyn washed everything in site – clothes, bed sheets, and even the truck, I went over the vehicle from front to rear tightening every nut and bolt. Even managed to finally get the squeak from the windscreen wipers fixed and the Ipod working again. Both couples seem not to stop doing something, but we were happy that we had the chance to tidy up and catch up on repairs etc.

We had been visited during the day by the woman from the local ger camp, she had bought over some yak’s milk to say thank you for the kangaroo gift we had given her son earlier. That evening we follow up her invitation to see her milk the yaks. We also tasted yak meat, which is not so different to cow, and sampled some yak yogurt, which I liked very much.

For dinner we cooked in the camp oven, the frozen chicken we had been carrying since Russia. I stuffed it with apple, bread, onion, and any spices I could lay my hands on. With baked potatoes, onions and carrots, it was a feast.
Sunday, was Gays birthday, and a do nothing day other than eat, drink and relax. The weather had unfortunately turned windy and hence was really cold at the shore line; hence we backed the vehicles up into the tree line some 100 metres back and in the lea of the pine trees enjoyed a much better climate. Really the day just drifted slowly by.

Finally in the afternoon we enjoyed a bottle of Chilean Red wine, purchased in Russia, and drunk in Mongolia – how very cosmopolitan. This we had with some fruit cake from home that Lyn had decorated with local flowers in honour of Gay’s special day.

It was lamb roast, again! As the roast was cooking, we were joined by a young man who could not talk – but he certainly could smell that leg cooking. He had been collecting wild onions and offered some for the pot, then collected some more wood for the fire, and water for the camp. Naturally he had to stay for dinner. After a second helping he happily departed on his push bike with a smile and a wave.

Camp 58-60: Hovsgol Lake Camp

Highlights: “Valley of the Horses” and “The Hills are alive with the etc.” country, Lamb Roast, Mongolia’s most beautiful spot – Hovsgol lake,
Total Distance to Date: 13,521 Kilometres

Monday 27th August: After leaving Hovsgol Lake and resupplying at Moron we start our journey west. 25Kms out of Moron is the world’s best Deer Stone site. These one to two metre vertical stones date back to Bronze Age man. Most still have the syllabized deer carving on them and carvings of knives belts, fish hooks, hammered into the granite stone. This area has a collection of nine deer stones plus other piles of rocks in circular or square patterns. We have often seen these concentric circles of rocks all over Mongolia. Apparently the round ones are burial places for animals, particularly the owner’s favourite horse, and the square ones are human burial sites. These all date back to around 500B.C.

We were rather pleased with ourselves for also finding another deer stone some 100Kms further on in our travels. Apparently they are scattered all over western Mongolia and southern Russia.

Tonight we camped well off the track, high up on the edge of the timber line. Most of the valleys are devoid of any trees and it is increasingly hard to have a fire to cook on. Fortunately most of the slopes of the mountains are gentle and allow access up the tree lined ridge. These types of camp sites also allow us great views of the valley spread out before us.

Tuesday 28th August: We reached Tsetserleg around 1pm, it was here that a child died about 3 weeks ago and the road had been recently been closed for fear of a plague outbreak. The bubonic plague or Black Death of medieval Europe initiated from this part of Mongolia. It is transferred from handling marmot skins. A marmot is a local type of ground squirrel which they eat. We decided not to have our lunch in Tsetserleg!

Many times the tracks split and it becomes less obvious which one to take; many decisions are based on both the GPS arrow, the lay of the land, and which is the most used track. Not always does this work out. Many times the well used track becomes nothing more than one old wheel rut in the dust, some times not even that and we just follow that GPS arrow. This afternoon was no exception as we follow very old wheel ruts up and down hills. Finally passing a ger on the edge of the river, I hesitated and decided to ask directions. The middle aged gentleman was only happy too confirm we were on the correct track, but also invited us all in for chai (tea).

This was our first true invitation into a family ger. The six family members; husband, wife, two daughters and two sons live in the one room ger. It is kitchen, lounge, prayer room and bedroom for all. The floor was covered with lino and some scattered carpets. In the centre of the ger was the fire place with a big pot of molten sheep’s fat bubbling away.

The lady of the house was cooking pastries in the fat. The elder daughter was rolling the flour mixture, whilst the others looked on. In the room were also 4 other friends or related family members what had dropped in to visit
On the walls on one side of the entrance hung two full carcases of the recent killed sheep and goat; they did neither smell nor where there any flies. As you scanned the walls, actually the lattice supporting the circular ger, it was also the place to store all their possessions; two, at least 1st World War, very used, bolt action rifles, coats, hats, cooking utensils, and drying skins. At the northern end (the entrance always faces south) was the small orange alter. Around the floor edge was bags of flour, more cooking pots, and their bed rolls. By the time the four of us entered the ger the fourteen of us made it very crowded but homely.

The husband immediately offers us chai. Hot, very milky, and slightly salty, we accept it gratefully with both hands, the Mongolian symbol for thank you. I spread our map of Mongolia on the floor and explain where we have travelled from and are going to. The only words of English they know is ‘thank-you’. As the wife continues to cook the pastries, we are offered a bowl of delicacies – Sheep’s liver, sheep’s heart, and sheep’s intestine stuffed with fat and meat of some kind.

The dark red and grey colour mixture is still warm from cooking. Being rude not to accept this generous offering, we all tentatively try a little. The husband thinks we are just a little too polite and cuts each of us a large chunk of intestine, which naturally we must accept and eat with a smile. Then wash it down with the milky salty tea.

The Polaroid camera was a big hit again here. The teenage daughter in typical style had to grab a comb from the lattice roof to comb her fringe. Following many inside photos and some outside around the vehicles we made a move to leave. Bill was very surprised, and I think quite worried when the husband jumped in and started his vehicle and proceeded to do a lap around the yard. But all ended well and the truck returned to its rightful owner. We parted company having had a real insight into Mongolian herding life.

That evening we camper below towering granite tors

Wednesday 29th August: Continuing west, we travelled varied terrain, rough mountain tracks, some through pine timbered country, and then open plains, then deserts. As we were 15 kilometres out of Baruunturuun a man stopped us and asked if we could take his two sons to town. The small boys of 6 and 9 approximately were standing next to him. We are surprised at the trust that still exists in this society, and wonder where it has gone in ours. We obliged and dropped the boys in town, much to their delight.

The open flat deserts around Dzuungovi are more that I imagined we would have found in the Gobi. This is the Boorog Desert, the world’s most northern desert, flat for as far as you can see to the west, east, and to the north. Waves of sand dunes and to the south a rough treeless blue mountain range hugs the horizon.

Dzuungovi, is just as forbidding. Dusty rough streets, broken shanty wooden houses, and children who had forgotten to smile. We stopped to buy a drink in the magazine, but the only drink available was the row of room temperature beer or vodka on the top shelf. One shelf had some cans of food then three shelves of lollies. I imagine the only happiness for the locals was the vodka on top for the adults and the lollies on the lower shelves for the children. Not a happy town.
The track west across the flat desert was good travelling at 50-60 KPH, so we travelled till 7.30pm. Without a tree, or depression in site we drove about 2 kilometres off the road and set camp. Nothing could be seen for miles, and then three horse men appeared from nowhere to check us out. Following the acceptance of some biscuits from us and a cup of orange juice, they left happy that we were OK and their curiosity satisfied.

Tomorrow we will head to Ulaangom the capital of the province of UVS, about 75Kms

Camp 63: Sand Dune Desert Camp

Current Position: Boorong Desert – Western Mongolia
Highlights: Deer stones, Ger visit, Crossing Boorog Desert.
Total Distance to Date: 15,700 Kilometres

Mongolia 3 - Central Mongolia

2007-08-22T21:48:00.000+10:00

Saturday 18th August: The sun is shining this morning, but fog is slowly drifting across the plain below us and up to Black Rock Ridge. The sweeping views of the horizon and Red Bluff disappear. With breakfast over we head out across the flat plains. Today, there are camels everywhere, sometimes in herds of 50 plus at a time.

As we head north the country is again changing, now hillier granite country with outcrops of pure white quartz. We come across a broken down vehicle, the three occupants had obviously been there all the previous night. They had not eaten, so we offered biscuits and drinks all round. The fan belt had broken on the vehicle, although they had tried makeshift repairs using their trouser belts it had not worked. Our option was to give the elder of the three, dressed in traditional costume a lift to Bayankhongor, our next stop about 40Kms away. Bill & Gay had the only spare seat, and I believe it was not a very interesting trip as neither party could communicate.

Bayankhongor was a town without a soul. Built during the soviet occupation, it is straight out of the soviet town planner’s book. Half a dozen grey and brown four story apartment blocks were set either side of the single wide main street. The rest of the buildings, obviously added later, are a mixture of recycled timber and scrap sheet metal, or white rough rendered brick houses or gers. Each gers is surrounded by ramshackled timber fences, I imagine depicting ownership. Apart from the straight main street, the rest of the streets seem to happen in any order as the dwellings appeared.

Whilst I was at the internet, Lyn & Gay did the shopping in the markets with the help of a drunken local man and a mute woman. I believe it was quite an experience.

Our afternoons destination was Naiman Nuur (Eight Lakes) for which we had the GPS coordinates from ‘Lonely Planet’. It was typical of my destinations, very off the main tourist route. A single lane track up the most beautiful river valley we have ever seen. The velvet grass left both sides of the meandering stony river and covered the ground all the way to the tops of the mountain peaks on each side of us. Dotted along the valley are the white gers and granite tors. We were now at 2000metres and still climbing. Left behind long ago were the camels, they are now replaced by goats, cattle, and as we get higher, Yaks. As the evening draws near, the families are herding the live stock close to the ger to bed down.
We set camp atop of a spur overlooking the river bend. After our camel steak dinner, we had a visit by four horse riders hoping for a drink to have with their ‘roll your own’ smokes.

P.S. The camel steaks were very nice!

Sunday 19th August: Surprise, after the rain again last night the sky is blue. This only makes the valley all the more beautiful. The ger families are now driving their flocks out across the grasses. With no fences, and no land ownership in Mongolia, there must be an understanding between the families on grazing rights. All in all, it looks like an ideal lifestyle - as least in the 25degree summer. Still there are no trees only short grasses. For cooking fuel we see piles of animal manure being dried in the sun. I am thinking that must add a special flavour to the cooking!

We turn off the main valley to follow the GPS arrow up another much smaller valley. The track is almost nonexistent. On reaching the top, we expect to be mesmerised by eight beautiful lakes, however the ridge just rolls over into the next valley. On either side of the saddle we search between and over the granite outcrops looking for the impossible. We finally convince ourselves that the coordinates in ‘Lonely Planet’ must be incorrect.

Disappointed we did not find the eight lakes; we were none the less, impressed with the surroundings.
Returning to the main valley we continued, past idyllic ger settings, down picturesque valleys that photographs did not do justice to the small settlements of Uyanga, and Zuunbayan-Ulaan. Finally we reached the ‘main road’ just south of Khujirt.

Ahead of us we could see a turbulent thunderhead, and on the ground evidence that the very recent rain must have been violent. The ground was covered with fresh silt and in places thick ice from the recent hail. The major river crossing before Khujirt was 500 metres wide, running with water but fortunately shallow. What made the experience was the sun was now out and the valley crested by a new rainbow.

As we left Khujirt, we had read of some ancient burial sites marked by vertical stones. We found the site however all the graves had holes dug in and around them and I can only conclude that they were robbed of some saleable contents.

The new road was under construction, and the recent rains had filled a hole containing a road roller. Now also stuck in the same hole was a bulldozer and trying to pull that out was a grader. This was all very unsuccessful and badly disorganised. Some of the workers approached us for a drink (alcoholic of course) and my reply was only after the successfully retrieving the equipment. That obviously was not going to happen for a long time so we moved on.

We turned off the road and drove 750 metres up to the top of one of the rolling grassy hills for camp. This afforded us a grand view across the vast flood plain and the flood waters slowly moving from right to left down the valley.

Monday 20th August: This morning we visited the ancient capital of the Mogul Empire (Karakorum) dating from 1220, under the leadership of Chinggis Khaan. Unfortunately very little is left. Firstly, after only 40 years of occupancy Kublai Khaan moved the capital to what is now Beijing. What remained was later destroyed by vengeful Manchurian solders after the collapse of the Mogul Empire in 1388. Later in the 16th century what ever was left was picked up and used to build the nearby First Mongolian Buddhist Monastery of Erdene Zuu.
We had a guide for our tour of that Monastery, which in itself was impressive, but I could only marvel at the hand chipped granite blocks, pavers, steps etc that came from the previous Chinggis Khaan city. We walked outside the Monastery grounds over to the only remaining corner stone of that ancient city that was the trading crossroads of Asia.

Squatting down for a quite moment, I do believe I heard the noises of busy market and can only imagine the activity with traders from as far a field as China, Iran, and Europe. In the gravel below I can see pieces of broken pottery and wonder what stories it could tell?

In the new town of Kharkhorin we refuelled (Diesel 1050Togrog/Litre A$1.05) and had the major task of finding a water supply for the campers. As with most towns, Kharkhorin does not have a reticulated water supply and water is drawn from wells around town. For a foreigner it is difficult to know where these wells are. In the past we have seen people with containers going to and fro, hence from this it is possible to track down the small white pump house. The pump house has only a door, a small 200cm ‘window’ through which you pay your money, and a pipe out of the wall. This time after many questions and many very varying directions eventually a shop owner jumped in with me and guided us to a pump house. Both vehicles took collectively 100Litres for 3,000T (A$3.00), although not expensive we were grateful, because we normally paid around 800T (A$0.80).

Our camp tonight was 60Kms North at Ogiy Nuur (Lake). A pleasant evening and dinner of beautiful lamb steaks, purchased in the markets earlier that day.

Tuesday 21st August: We awoke at 1.30am this morning with someone trying to get into the front of the truck and then the camper. It was very windy and a cold 11degrees. I shone the torch out the window to see a very drunken Mongolian in his local attire indicating that it was cold and he wanted to come in and go to sleep. We were not impressed with his banging on the wall, but I also think he did not understand the words “piss off”! After half an hour and falling over the camper steps a couple of times, he must have eventually wandered off. It is at times like this we are so grateful to be in such a self-contained vehicle and not just camping in a tent.

It was a lousy night, and the cold and windy morning made the coffee taste just that little bit better than usual. We shared that coffee with the local park wildlife officer who came to say hello, even though we could not effectively communicate.

With a later than usual start, we planned to travel the 94 straight line kilometres to Tsetserleg for lunch. That plan soon disintegrated as we tended to zigzag all day up the wide valley. There seemed to be no major track and nothing corresponded to any of the maps we had in either the GPS or paper maps. The straight line 94Kms became 177Kms and that took a slow 7 hours to cover.

Along the way we stopped to ask directions from one ger camp, and that turned into a memorable experience for all. With a point of the hand, Tsetserleg was that way, but then the middle-aged man offered us airag. Airag is an alcoholic drink made from fermented mare’s milk, and every ger has their own still to make the home supply. With only 3% alcohol it is still most definitely must be an ‘acquired’ taste. Out of respect, Lyn and I both tried some and did manage ½ a cup each. It is a little like sour coconut milk.

Lyn then noticed one of the women milking the mare, and indicated she would like a photograph. That was no problem. We have been carrying a Polaroid camera also with us and took a photograph of ‘grandmother’ milking the horse – that was a great hit. Some 15 pictures later, we had the whole extended family around the trucks, all posing for photos. Dad in the driver’s seat, Brother (?) and children on the bull bar, kids lined up, even old grandmother was back in the action. All of the family were delighted with their photos and the colouring pencils and books we also gave out.
Finally arriving at Tsetserleg, we visited the markets for resupply. We really enjoyed our lamb last night so set about to purchase some more. Finally we differentiated the horse, cow, and yak meat from the sheep meat, and purchased a kilo of lamb for 3020T (A$3.20) plus a 2 kilo leg for 6000T (A$6.00). At some of the markets you can tell the difference because the head of the animal is on the shelf below its butchered meat. This one was a bit more challenging, using animal noises to differentiate the meats.

This evening we have found some trees, and hence some wood for an open fire. What better than lamb steaks!

Wednesday 22nd August: Up at 7.30am to an overcast sky and that drizzly rain remained with us all day. Today the tracks were quicker, or perhaps we just made better judgement calls at the multiple choice track junctions.

Stopping at a road side ‘café’ we had noodles and meat (what type is any guess) for the grand sum of 1050T (A$1.50) per very full plate. Coffee, for which we actually decided to stop for, we could buy the ‘3 in one’ prepacked mixture, but they did not have any hot water, so we gave the coffee a miss.

We passed Chuluut Gorge, an impressive river gorge cut through the mountain range. I found it most intriguing because as we climbed the range the water was flowing in the same direction of our travel. Hence the gorge on out right was increasing in depth as we moved up hill.

Our destination is the extinct volcanic area of the Terkhiin Tsagaan Nuur (Lake) National Park. Driving out of the village of Tariat towards the extinct volcano we crossed recent (a million years or so) lava flow. Very evident is its flow through the saddle in between the hills, and its meandering flow down the valley. Driving over the volcanic ash slopes, to our left is the remains of the recent volcanic cone. Surrounding us are volcanic bombs, lava flows and ash beds. I have to admit I was impressed.

The 500 metre climb to the top of the cone and its circumnavigation was a highlight. The only unfortunate part of this whole experience is the weather. It continues to be overcast and raining.

We are now camped on the side of a lake formed by the lava flow damming the river. It continues to rain and the temperature is dropping. At 5.30pm it was 12degrees, 6.30pm-11degreesC, now at 8.30pm a cold 9degreesC and still dropping!

I can only add that it is good snuggling weather!

Camp 56: Rainy and Cold Volcanic Lake Camp

Current Position: Camped at Terkhiin Tsagaan Lake – Raining & 11degrees C
Highlights: Beautiful Valleys, Chinggis Khaan’s Capital, Tasting Airag, Lava flows and great extinct Volcanos.
Total Distance to Date: 13,147Kilometres

Mongolia 2 - The Gobi Desert

2007-08-17T22:19:00.000+10:00

Tuesday 14th August: We had some restocking to do, and as there is no ‘supermarket’ in Dalanzadgad, we food shopped in the markets. We had always tried to buy our fresh vegetables in markets, but the butcher shop was a whole new adventure. We were lucky because the meat delivery vehicle had just arrived. The old motorbike had a sidecar attached and upon this were the four freshly butchered carcases. It seemed that everybody gave a hand to carry them inside and place on the large scales in the centre of the hall. Then the individual stall holders sliced off what they had pre-ordered and paid the ‘wholesaler’. On the side of the hall were all these individual butcher merchants with their cuts of meat proudly displayed on one long table. Our only problem was that we could not tell the difference between the sheep, the cow, the camel, or goat, or what ever else was available. We spied a nice piece of meat and asked if it was lamb. Naturally we could not speak Mongolese nor do they English, so Lyn did the Baa-Baa thing. The two old ladies laughed and placed two lumps of fat side by side on the table to indicate it was camel. We still decided it still looked good and purchased the one and a half Kilo for 6,000 Togrog (A$6.00).

Bill got is beer (6 x 1.5 litre plastic bottles) for 9,000 Togrog (A$9), I chased up the local delicacy –‘tarag’ or yogurt, a large jar for 2,000 Togrog (A$2), and the only thing we could not find was butter.

With the chores all done we headed out the 45Kms to Yolyn Am Gorge. It was supposed to be an ice filled gorge, but his year’s summer proved too hot, and despite walking more than 4kms down the gorge we found no ice. Watching the surrounding near vertical cliffs however eventually rewarded us with a sighting of two Ibex.
After 6 weeks of travelling we had decided to shout ourselves a bit of luxury. The Three Camels Lodge Ger Camp came well recommended as setting the bar for accommodation in Mongolia. Situated on the vast grassy plains with a small rock outcrop as a background, the central old style timber building was surrounded by 20 or so white ger tents. We were met by the friendly staff and shown to our accommodation. Each ger had a large king size bed, wash basin, toilet, and coal heater for winter. The inside walls, roof beams and all the furniture were brightly painted in typical orange and pink colours.

The accommodation tariff included 3 meals so it was an easy decision to not leave until after lunch tomorrow, particularly so as the 4 course dinner was delicious.

Wednesday 15th August: After a long breakfast it became a relaxing morning, if only to prepare us for lunch. We watched a video about Roy Andrews, an American adventurer who in the early 1920’s discovered the worlds largest Dinosaur fossil reserve including the first ever Dinosaur eggs. This was only 25Kms north and was to be our next stop. It would seem that Roy was quite a real-life adventurer, fighting rebels, bandits, and hunting fossils in the midst of a revolution. It is widely regarded that he is the basis of the Indiana Jones character.

The ‘Flaming Red Cliffs’ of Bayanzag are amazing and with only a few steps you start to see fossil bones everywhere. We saw some incredible specimens in the Museum in Ulaanbaatar, but to actually see teeth and bones in mother earth – I was captivated.

We parked the vehicles at the base of the cliffs to camp, and immediately walked around finding bones and teeth in the soft red sand cliff face. Even after dinner I could not resist scratching at the surface only to be rewarded with a large specimen of pelvis (?) bone. After exposing about 40 cm it was so fragile I had to very reluctantly leave it alone.

Thursday 16th August: Today we are off to the ‘Singing dunes’ of Khongoryn Els. The Gobi Desert is not as I expected – waves of dunes for thousands of kilometres. Only in this area are the dunes as one would imagine. Here for 100Kms long and 10Kms wide are they nothing less than spectacular. Reaching a height of 300metres above the stony plain, they beg to be climbed. The slope was 45 degrees of soft moving sand, and Bill & I achieved the top, with Lyn reaching 2/3rds of the way. It was very hard work, but we were rewarded with a great view along the sand ridge line.

Our planned decent was not as fast as we wanted as we had carried two car floor mats to the top to slide down on, but they were too slow. However, as we moved the noise of the moving sand in front of us was like the low roar of an aircraft engine.

The afternoon’s adventure was to be a 125Kms navigation run across the centre of the Gobi Desert to pick up vehicle tracks further north.

Leaving the sand dunes behind, we headed out on to the open stony rolling plains. Starting out on faint tracks these slowly diminished until we were following only the GPS directional arrow. The last faint track finished at an ancient well, the sides of the well were lined with twisted local timber and the beautiful stock enclosure again made of twisted, dry desert timber.
We elected to follow a sandy creek bed for 20Kms until the creek became too narrow for the vehicles, it was then across very rough dry ‘salt bush’ country for 10Kms until we reached relative smooth stony firm ground again. The firm ground was welcome as the sky was now overcast and only a sprinkle on the low salt bush country would have meant a quagmire. The last 12Kms took us over 1 1/2 hours; hence on reaching the comfort of the stony foot hills we called camp.

For the first time in a week fire wood was relatively plentiful at our Gobi Desert Camp.

Friday 17th August: It rained and blew last night. The wind so strong at 2am we woke with the shaking of the truck. This morning the rain has ceased to a light drizzle but the desert tracks are now wet and travel will be ‘interesting’. Fortunately we are out of the low country and crossing now low stony hills. Very picturesque, but the colours subdued in the bleak weather.
The sand and rocky country is good travelling but in between in the low clay areas the ground is either slippery with sloppy mud, or tacky with sticky mud.

Our destination today is a crystal lined cave that was inhabited over 700,000 years ago. The GPS leads us up yet another long and 500 metre wide stony creek bed between jagged peaks. Strangely these wide rivers are cut through mountain ranges and connect the broad plains on both sides. Hence, instead of climbing up and expecting to reach the river headwaters, the river opens up again into wide open rolling country.

Following some directions from a local ger camp we arrive at a small steep sided gorge. We leave the vehicles and walk the 300 metres up to the opening in side of the rocks. A large cave is actually a gas cavity formed when the rocks were molten, and is lined with Calcite and Quartz crystals. The ceiling has a good overhang and a light hole; the smoke stains indicate long use.

Unfortunately more recent visitors have not appreciated the importance of this site and have left their own messages on the stone walls with paint and scratchings.

It is still raining, and we decide to cancel our visit to another prehistoric area, and head towards Orog Nuur (lake). After 60Kms, some on tracks and some not, we approach the Salt Lake but the low country becomes increasingly impassable with the wet weather. We really do not wish to be bogged in the middle of Mongolia, in a salty flood plain without a tree in sight. We retreat to higher ground, and call the lake quits.

Heading towards the town of Bayankhonor, tomorrows destination, we sight on our left a black rock ridgeline and decide to drive up this for our camp. At the top we are rewarded with a spectacular view across the black stony plain and to the right a predominant red and white vertical escarpment.

Our 50th Camp: Black Rock Ridge Camp

Current Position: 100Kms South of Bayankhongor (Central Mongolia)
Highlights: Food shopping in Dalanzadgad, Luxury overnight stay at 3 Camels Ger Camp, Dinosaur treasures, GPS across the Gobi, Crystal Cave.

Total Distance to Date: 12,195 Kms

Mongolia 1 - South towards the Gobi Desert

2007-08-14T22:31:00.000+10:00

Saturday 11th August: Off to the Ulaanbaatar markets. 60,000 people visit these markets each day and they are as diverse as they are dynamic. You can buy anything from a gur tent and all the appropriate furniture, to chain saws, butter wrapped sheep intestines (as a container), antiques, ropes, and solar panels. We found everything very cheap. A $700 solar panel in Australia was $200, ‘cargo’ type shirts were $15, and my prized purchase was a very old Mongolian Khan Warrior helmet for US100.

After visiting the local and largest Monastery we left Ulaanbaatar and headed south.

This is a land of no roads only directions.

We soon found this out as we headed out of town. 20kms from town we were on multiple dirt tracks, no signposts, and heading by GPS south towards Mandalgov. There were so many tracks in every direction that eventually Bill and I became separated and could not find each other for over an hour. Having lost his UHF ariel very early in the trip, communication was impossible between the valleys. We finally relocated each other by good luck, not planning, and were so relieved that we camped where we were. Besides it was 8pm and we were on the side of a broad 10km wide valley, with the horizon surrounding us.

Following setting up camp we were met by a local and his son in their new 100 series Landcruiser. They had been falcon hunting and returning home and just stopped in to check if we were OK. They soon left but not before leaving us some biscuits, just as other visitor did this morning in camp. Very friendly people.
That evening the sky put on a specular light and storm cloud show as we retired.

Camp 44: Lost and Found - Storm Camp

Sunday 12th August: Fortunately there was no rain in the clouds last night, on these black soil plains that would put a end to all travel. There are still no trees or low plants, only open rolling hills and plains covered with an ever diminishing cover of green grass.

We drove by GPS to try to locate the Mineral Springs in the foot hills of Baga Gazaryn Uul but gave up. Finally following the maize of tracks, but mostly GPS we arrived 410kms later at Mandalgov. A not so impressive town, in this heat of about 30degrees we shouted ourselves a well deserved ice-cream. Now camped on top of a rounded hill 15kms south of town we again have a 360 degree view of the flat horizon. No trees or shrubs only grasses, rocks and sand. This is preparing us for the Gobi Desert beyond.

Monday 13th August: I was up early this morning trying to fix the computer. Every page is split into 4 horizontal pages, and I imagine this was due to the constant vibrations from the roads. I have found a way to use word for this log, but it is a problem for pictorial storage and I am still working on that one.

The view as we drive through the country is so big and expansive it is impossible to capture it on film. Not even a panoramic shot can capture the vastness of the sweeping valleys, the green rolling hills, or the green horizon in every direction. Our morning tea stop was on top of a hill to soak in the view.
Along the way there are plenty of grazing animals. Camels, goats, sheep, and horses all attended by the younger members of the nomadic family. They are either on horse or camel, or walking beside the stock moving them constantly on and generally watching over them.

We veered from our GPS south track to take in the Painted Desert Mountains. It was only 30Kms off our track, and well worth it. The clay/sandstone mountain was slowly eroding leaving unusual shapes in red, orange, pink, white and mauve. It is hot, 37degrees is registered on our thermometer in the camper.

Following the GPS and the occasional track we arrive 15Kms outside the town of Dalanzadgad and set camp. Again we are surrounded by a green horizon with the occasional blue hills dotting the horizon.

Camp: 46 Dalanzadgad Plains Camp

Position: (Gobi Desert) – 500Kms South of Ulaanbaatar
Highlights: Land of no roads only directions; Open country, cross country driving, Painted Desert Mountains.
Total Distance to Date: 11,665Kms.

Ulan-Ude to Ulaanbaatar (Mongolia)

2007-08-10T22:33:00.000+10:00

Tuesday 7th August 2007: From information we obtained at the Mongolian Consulate in Ulan-Ude the consulate does not issue visas on a Tuesday, hence we had to fill in a day. We wandered around the shops, Gay and Lyn managed to buy new sandals to replace the ones that were stolen at Lake Baikal.
The buildings are a mixture of original old log type and very modern concrete and steel. The large mall, without traffic was pleasant to walk and people watch. It would seem that this is also what the locals do, as the mall was full of young and old. The young drank beer from the brown bottles and smoked, the old drank coffee and smoked. Both watched the passing parade as we did.
That evening we camped next to the Selenga River outside the town and had a great position overlooking the river and the passing Trans Siberian Trains on the other side.

7th August Distance: 35Kms Camp 40: Ulan-Ude Big River Camp with Trains

Friday 8th August: At 9am the next morning we were smartly at the consulate only to be told that we must apply only at a travel agency. The very well spoken gentleman at the consulate recommended one and just across the road everything was put in place for the visas to be ready at 6pm.(1700RUB A$68each) Visited coffee shops, and internet cafes to kill time. There was an Ethnographic Museum about 8km out of town and this is a reconstruction of all the old building styles from the tepees used by the originals, to the log houses. Attached was also a not so well presented zoo.

Back to town we went 3 times in early anticipation to the agency for our visas before we were on our way towards the Mongolian border at 6.30pm. It was a 300 km drive; with the idea of camping at the border gate ready for a first in line start.

Arriving at a very late 11.30 we were tired and just a bit on edge. In the end we could not find the actual border gate road in the maze of streets in and around the small border town. In frustration we camped in the forest just out of town to start tomorrow with a clear mind and some daylight.

8th August Distance: 222Kms Camp 41: Mongolian Forrest Border Camp

Saturday 9th August: From where we stopped and gave up last night the border gate was only 2Kms further on, we just had to follow the road and spend a few moments translating the sign that said ‘Customs’ in Cyrillic.

There were already 20 or so vehicles in the haphazard line up, but we concluded that it would have made no difference arriving at such a late hour last night anyway. The gates opened at 9am, and we were surprisingly asked to change lanes because they classed us as a ‘truck.’ This upset the two Italians who in there usual manner complained to no avail. To somehow make up for last night we were the second vehicle through the gate.

The whole border crossing process took 2 hours, and although we could not see a defied path past the various windows and desks on both sides we managed.
Both the exit from Russia and the entry into Mongolia the staff were helpful and understanding in our lack of speech in the local languages. The costs amounted to US$4 for ‘spraying’ of the tyres, quarantine I guess, and 700RBL (A$30) for third party Mongolian vehicle insurance.

At 11.30 we were in Mongolia and immediately visited the local roadside stall for some coffee and Mongolian goulash. Very nice and very inexpensive at A$7.00 for all 4 of us.

From information sourced from the Lonely Planet book I had found an authentic, and only one of three, manufacturers of Mongolian hunting bows in the small village of Dulaankhaan. We located the family who proudly showed how it was made from Ibex and Reindeer horn, sinew from sheep leg, and a local tree sap as glue. I had previously decided that this would be our souvenir of Mongolia. For US$200, considering that they take 3 weeks to make, I felt the price reasonable.

The country, as we drove though towards the capital of Ulaanbaatar was uniquely different and spectacular in its starkness. Green rolling hills and mountains, mostly devoid of any trees, were unique also because in Mongolia there are no fences. The cattle, long haired sheep and goats, occasionally yaks, graze everywhere, tended by the expert owners on their horses. Very friendly and most wave as we drive by.

Our arrival in Ulaanbaatar was a contrast. The drivers aggressive on the road, no road signs, and no street signs. One million people live here, half the population of Mongolia. I think all of them were on the road going to and from somewhere.

Lonely Planet had recommended a valley towards Khandgait as a great camping place, and that was our destination. Unfortunately the urban sprawl had moved up the valley and we drove for over one hour from the city centre before we finally left the houses and found some green country side to camp.
The local farmer dropped in to camp on the way home from cutting clover for his sheep. We enjoyed chatting by sign language. Soon after another couple of guys arrived and tried to scam some money. They posed as park rangers and said we were not allowed to camp here nor have an open fire and we would be fined. We have become a little more travel savvy now and I asked to see their ID. That was not forthcoming, however on mentioning that if they have a problem with us here they should first clear it with the local farmer in the house “Over There” and pointed to where the farmer had just returned. At that stage they gave up, but still kept up a very good show.

Ulaanbaatar is a thriving and dynamic city. There is money being made here, perhaps not by all but it is being spread around. A couple of Hummers and a 2 door Bentley confirm that. Construction is happening in both the city in high rise, and in the suburbs where new modern housing is going ahead at a great pace. The suburban houses, although small on our standards, are brightly coloured with their red, blue or green roofs and either light stained pine timber or red brick sides. Surprisingly unlike the country side, each house has timber fenced off their domain. The toilets are in the far back corner of the fenced area or alternatively they share the toilets along the road side. Sometimes we see two squatting areas side by side in the same small building – how very communal!

9th August Distance: 380Kms Camp 42: Green Acres Camp- Urban Ulaanbaatar

Sunday 10th August: This morning we are back to town, doing the tourist thing.

The Natural History Museum has to be a highlight with the best displays I have ever seen of Dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes, Dinosaur eggs, and meteorites. Mongolia, too, was subjected to Stalin’s reign of terror. The Victims of Political Persecution Museum depicts the purges of the 1930’s, and the loss of thousands of Monks, writers, poets and thinkers.

We museumed our selves out, had lunch at Millies. Really a feast at an upmarket restaurant, 2 courses, drinks, etc all for A$36.

The day ended with a local dance and song show in the park and dinner at the Silk Road Restaurant. It was then time for more fighting of the suburban traffic to camp in a different valley at the edge of the green belt surrounding the city.

10th August Distance: 45Kms Camp 43: Suburbs Camp

Position: Ulaanbaatar – Capital of Mongolia.
Highlights:
Border crossing Russia/Mongolia,
Authentic Mongolian Hunting Bow.
Ulaanbaatar, The Country.
Land of no roads only directions.

Total Distance to Date: 11,954 Kms

Chita to Lake Baikal via logging tracks - Ulan Ude

2007-08-07T22:35:00.000+10:00

Wednesday 1st August 2007: Chita, with a population of 370,000 is a diverse city with varying architecture. A mix of old log buildings, now typical Russian concrete apartment buildings and some modern newer style living accommodation, that would do proud in any city. Surrounding the always statue of Lenin, in Lenin square were some very impressive government buildings with equally impressive roman style columns. We walked the city centre in the 33 degrees heat and restocked the pantry.

Importantly Bill managed to replace his hydraulic hose for the winch. That was quite an experience for him. After many auto shops, and work shops in previous towns, Bill was determined, that Chita had to be the place to locate it before the more difficult Mongolia. Finally, a small engine workshop owner volunteered to take Bill and find such a hose. At 100 to 120Kph he drove Bill in his V8 Mazda across and around Chita. Bill had his hose, but was shattered at the driving style. That evening it took many Vodkas and coffees to bring him back to reality after crossing intersections at these speeds, passing cars on the crest of hills etc. He was clearly shaken by this experience.

Whilst Bill, was enjoying himself in the ‘race car’, we chatted to some of the locals around the auto shops. One was a truck driver who does the China to Saint Petersburg run. He had been to Lake Baikal, and particularly to the isolated place we wanted to visit and suggested a 250Km short-cut across the mountains. Via some English speaking locals we had a rough map of the tracks. He assured us, that despite the fact it was neither on the Garmin world map, nor on our more up to date and reliable ‘Roads to Russia” CD map, nor any of the Russian paper road maps; I had to wonder how it could still be described as a “gravel road.”

With that plan in hand we headed north out of town towards Romanavska and camped beside a stream and had enjoyed some fresh raspberries purchased from an old lady in the roadside markets.

1st August Distance: 200Kms Camp 34: Raspberries & Cream beside the River

Thursday 2nd August: We were away at our now usual 9am departure, and after Romanavska headed west towards Khorynsk where we take the short cut to Lake Baikal. This area must be the bread basket of Russia. Large rolling plains covered with wheat fields, and cattle. The only difference to what we see at home is the short stalks on the wheat, and the very antiquated machinery being used. I would seem that despite Perestroika that the farms may still be run under a collective arrangement and share equipment and labour forces.

On the side of the road in one small village they were selling Blueberries. The second young couple waved us down as they stood proudly beside their two metal buckets of Blueberries. The young lady of about 25 wanted 250RUB (A$12.00) for the 4 gallon bucket. We explained in sign language, and by blowing up our mouth, that we would explode if we eat all 4 gallons of Blueberries, and only wanted a small quantity. She laughed but really wanted us to take the full bucket, and dropped the price to 200RUB. We finally finished up with about 3 or more kilos, about half the bucket, for 100RUB (A$5.00).

We passed through the small village of Isinga, where at the edge of town, a track lead up to the top of a domed grassy hill. From the top was a view across the town and the meadows, and the large tranquil lake the town was nestled against. In this prime position was a very small white pagoda, with its accompanying colourful alter and 10 or so congregation benches.

Sitting on the grass, looking out across the mirror finished lake you could see three isolated fishermen in their small boats catching their supper. There was no wind and no sound, despite the close proximity to the village. I could hear the cows eat; the fishermen throw their line in some 400 metres away, and nothing else.

Truly this was the Donnyboon of Russia. You could feel the serenity.

We all had to force ourselves back onto the road. At Khokhotuy we confirmed again with some guys working on a truck, the directions across the mountains. With a few more map scribbles in Lyn’s log book we headed back 10K’s to the turn off to the village of Mayla. The road was within 500 metres already a grass centred track as it crossed the one metre deep creek into log village. It was time for more reassurance, so we asked a Kamaz Log truck driver waiting on the road. A few more map directions in Lyn’s book, and then he offered to lead us part of the way. At a very painful 15KPH, we followed the truck about 10kms to our turn off. In Russian, I think he may have said “Good Luck”

We were defiantly on logging tracks, and as we came across logging camps we would ask directions again and again. Each time more notes, however the more information we had the more it differed a little from the last.

Two Australian trucks and 4 Aussie tourists this far away from civilization was always a surprise to the timber getters. Amongst them there was wild chatter and as we left you could see them shaking and scratching their heads. At 7.30pm we stopped on a disused side track and camped.
That evening we enjoyed Blueberries and cream topped with condensed milk.

2nd August Distance: 435Kms Camp 35: Blueberry Camp on side track.

Friday 3rd August: With breakfast over and Bill’s hydraulic winch hose back in place we headed off perhaps a little more confident than the previous day had ended. Up one steep hill a Kamaz truck driver carrying an old tank used for timber-getting had jack-knifed his vehicle and trailer. It was an impossible situation and he really needed some serious machinery to extricate him from the situation. Unfortunately we could do little to help, and following some friendly exchanges managed to edge our way past.

At midmorning we arrived at a house on top of a mountain range. This turned out to be the Zamakta Meteorological Station. We had wondered what “meteor” was in the instructions to date. After some instructions, and more “carta” (map) drawings, we were invited for coffee. Zamakta is made up of 3 log houses plus the log ‘station’ building. We met all the inhabitants – all of 5 men and 5 women.

Invited in for coffee, we took some biscuits and our cups into the dining/bed room. As we talked, the two wives (?) slowly loaded the table with Blueberries, cream, then bread, cucumber salad, bean salad, stuffed bread (very nice), and finally cooked macaroni with beef and cheese. What a feast!
Not coffee, but Russian Chai (Tea) was served, but before anything first a toast. Out came the home made whiskey made from potatoes (?) and local herbs. Hence at 10am, here we were with the two older ‘mums’, the daughter, brother, husbands and not sure how the others fitted in, but the entire community, toasting, Russia/Australia, Friends, Mothers etc etc.
It was a great cultural exchange, and truly an honour and a pleasure to be welcomed into their home and family. Vlad, presented us an old detailed map of the area and highlighted the position of the Zamakta Meteor Station. All the family signed this and our Russian Flag. I gave ‘Mike’ a signed picture of my competition vehicle as he also was a ‘rally’ driver. So friendly were they that as Lyn was patting the family kitten they offered it to her as a travelling companion. Lyn found it hard work refusing yet not offending.
As we were leaving the group then presented us with a parcel of food – 5 cans of bully beef and 5 cans of condensed milk….and what remained of that precious home made whiskey, for our travels. It was now early afternoon when Vlad then sat in our vehicle and guided us to the first turn off about 5 kilometres away. I imagine he then walked back.

To date this is our most memorable experience of Russian life, friendship and hospitality.

Up and down hills and mountains, through creeks, and constantly comparing all the hand drawn maps, GPS directions, and Roads to Russia maps we slowly make some distance. Until finally at 6.30pm we must have made a wrong turn as the track was slowly getting worse and closing in with vegetation. We backtracked to a logger’s camp for new directions. It is pouring with rain, the tracks are now slippery, and they offer to guide us out tomorrow morning. This we accept gratefully and park in the logger’s camp in the pouring rain.

3rd August Distance: 157Kms Camp 36: Loggers Camp in the Rain

Saturday 4th August: We talked to the loggers on and off throughout the day. We are a bit tired of just sitting but they assure us the vehicle is coming, the time just keeps changing because I think they do not know when. They work on a 7 days on 7 days off roster, and this is their change of shift.

There are 5 types of timber in the area; however they only cut 3 types of pine. Each tree is cut to 4 metre and very rarely 7 metre lengths. These must be perfectly round for the entire length. We see a huge amount of wasted timber. I would say they only use less than one third of the timber gets used. The rest they stack and burn or just leave. It seems very wasteful for lots of good timber. The workers explain they get very little money in comparison to what it is sold for in Japan and America. This is however so true for any raw material.

The foreman also showed us edible pine cones, the blueberries, and another type of berry. Interesting was the board leafed ground plant that could be used as a poultice.

Finally the boss’s Russian Jeep arrived and that together with the workers in the Uaz they lead us the 190Kms to Ust-Barguzin. Within 10Kms of leaving camp, we had found our navigational error; from there it was relatively a straight drive out over the rough roads.

Via some spectacular running creeks we finally reached the shores of Lake Baikal at 5.30pm. Following a quick drive around ‘town’ we drive the road north, crossed the river by punt, and turned left into the Svyatoy Nos Peninsula National Park.

Here we found a relatively quiet spot on the Baikal beach, between the tens of other Russian campers and set camp. The trucks were parked within 5 metres of the waters edge and our mosquito tent set between them. We sat down to enjoy dinner and taste yet again that home made whiskey from our friends at the Zamakta Meteorological Station. For dinner we pre-purchased fresh Omul fish from the punt and fried it over the open fire. Very nice washed down with a bottle of Red Chilean wine. We watched the sun set over this inland ‘ocean’. Recalling this inland lake contains over one fifth of the world’s fresh water, is 650Kms long, and up to 1650metre depth.

We retired to the lapping of the waves.

Suddenly we were awoken around 3am to the sound of our table collapsing. Unfortunately it was not the wind as first thought, but collapsing as someone was trying to steal it. They were also trying to take our mosquito tent. Lyn yelled out as I prepared to go outside. They were soon gone into the dunes and into the night. Fortunately we had packed most things away, but they still managed to get away with some washing, both Lyn’s and Gay’s shoes, and unfortunately half the camp table, making the rest useless.

We have had such pleasant experiences with the Russian people; I guess it was time to touch the other side also. It was a good warning to us to be careful in future.

4th August Distance: 223Kms Camp 37: Lake Baikal -Home Invasion Camp

Sunday 5th August: Most of today we sat on the beach, drank coffee, had a slow lunch and unwound from driving every day,…..and the experiences of the night before.

That afternoon, we drove the 20 or so kilometres to the main part of the peninsula which we have been told is most beautiful. But, I think we have been spoilt with some great scenery to date, and were left disappointed, returning to another part of the lakeside beach to camp.

We were looking forward to steak and eggs this night, having purchased a bulk lump of frozen steak in Chita at the supermarket. Opening the plastic bag of now unfrozen meat it was not steak but a very big dark lump of liver. Not that I am really against liver, but it was just such a big dark red lump, running with blood, it was just too much. Around the table sounds of “yuk” etc could be heard. Lyn was then just emerging from the camper when all this commotion started and immediately dropped the eggs she was carrying. That put an end to any thoughts of steak and eggs.

We laughed all this off as it was only our first translation mistake in our food shopping.

We settled for saveloys, onions and potatoes.

5th August Distance: 41Kms Camp 38: Lake Baikal – Mistake Liver Camp

Monday 6th August: Today we had planned to have our only swim in Lake Baikal this morning. The sky was blue and clear at 7am but by 8 the fog started to drift across the lake and down from the mountains. By 10am visibility was down to 20metres and the temperature dropped by 15 degrees from yesterday’s 30 degrees.

With jackets now on we spent a lazy start to the day watching the seagulls eat the remains of the liver from last night.

Finally realising that nothing was going to improve we may as well hit the road towards Mongolia, via Ulan-Ude.

Crossing the punt back to Ust-Barguzin, I recognise the two Australian vehicles waiting on the other side ready to cross. It is Herb, Jessie, John and Caris, who we had met outside Yakutsk 6 weeks previously. Very quickly we swap tails of adventure, and tails of woe, mostly vehicle related. We also find out that their Visas to Mongolia have expired, and since ours were issued at the same time, this will also mean that ours too would have expired. It sounds like in Ulan-Ude tomorrow we must visit the Mongolian Consulate and reapply.

Arriving on the outskirts of Ulan-Ude we enjoy a roadside stall dinner of shashlik, lamb and rice, salad and a couple of beers all for under A$20 for the 4 of us.

The two trucks are now camped in the ‘bush’ outside of town. The only place we could find to pull off the road was littered with scattered garbage. This was one downside of the country I failed to understand. The Russians are so proud of what they have achieved since perestroika, and rightly so, yet there are no rubbish facilities and everything is just left where ever.

Normally the four of us eat together, but this evening it was easier to eat in our respective campers, thus closing an eye to the outside mess.

6th August Distance: 307Kms Camp 39: Ulan-Ude Rubbish Dump Camp

Position: On the edge of Lake Baikal, then UlanUde.
Highlights: A bucket of Blueberries.
Russia’s Donnyboon.
A Forestry track to Lake Baikal.
Breakfast with a Meteorological Family.
Lost in Russia, then Lake Baikal.

Total Distance to Date: 11,110Kms (1363 in 6 days)