The Ultimate Overland

  I seem to be making a habit of starting this blog by stating ‘last night was a big one’. Well, it was for some, in fact the same quad as before and the virtuous four retired to bed at an early stage (some 4 hours earlier). I have no explanation but we slept the dreams of the innocent.   A little light fettling for some, well to be sure: light for me; delayed for Ham and Chris (see above) and Nigel started light but, as the day wore on and he found more to do, it became a marathon, in the heat of the day. Eventually he won and retired for a haircut (bit of a non-sequitur, Ed).  Meanwhile, Nellie, David, Joe and your correspondent foolishly decided to join up with Hugo on a discovery of Turpan (150 m below sea level) in 32 degree heat. We took water supplies but the promised 2 and bit km proved to be further and after 4 km Nellie and I returned to the hotel.  Tomorrow we enter the Taklamakan desert proper, whereas until now we have merely skirted it. It is known as t...

  I know this is not true, but it has acquired urban myth status. The NHS and Indian Railways are two of the world’s biggest employers. The third big one is, er, whatchamacallit, you know, ugh, dammit, tip of my tongue, so nearly there. Nope. Lost it. Well we met a fair proportion of the third one on the motorway heading in our direction. You know when a freight train goes through a station and you think, after twenty-five bogeys have gone past, must be nearly there now and you continue to count and count, you look up the line and it’s forever, trundling past, clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack, well, that’s what we experienced today. The longest, um, can’t use the word, so you’ll have to guess, we’ve ever seen: Ah, breaker one-nine, this here’s the Rubber Duck You got a copy on me, Pig Pen, c’mon? Other news. We had intended to add an extension to our trip and travel through the mountains to our destination. In accordance with regulations our travel company passed this...

  Blog Last night’s dinner was a big one, for some. Those who chose the way of sin spent the day repenting, whereas the virtuous were serene in their smugness. What happens on tour stays on tour.  Your correspondent feels that, without mentioning names, the following story might serve as a general warning. One of our number took to Google Translate to ask for another bottle of wine, dictating into his phone. Without looking at the screen he presented the result to the waitress, who jumped back in shock and half shrieked/half giggled. The dictation had inexplicably resulted in an English text of ’Kiss me’. Apologies and profuse embarrassment was offered to all concerned. Some time later the same waitress returned with the bill and using her own Google Translate dictated something into her phone and showed it to our unsuspecting married member of the party (although that narrows it down not a lot). He was astonished to read ‘My mouth is sore!’    Surely the Chinese hac...

  Because today offered a repeat of yesterday’s fare (post-passport-pickle) of beautifully-made, smooth tarmac, which was, in fact, incredibly boring to drive on, we opted for an extension. The message was passed amongst us, but somehow failed to settle in the Rolls. So, at a crucial junction, with a confluence of events sometimes associated with disaster, the Rolls separated from the convoy and sailed gloriously onwards, whilst the rest of us paused and followed the guide who had caught up. We turned right, the Rolls went straight on.   A convo was had, via social media VOIP (down with the techies, I am so) and it was determined that we would enjoy the National Park and Chris and Joe would go to the hotel for what they thought would be a short wait before we joined them.  Oh my! What a miscalculation! Sorry chaps. We have held back tonight on our descriptions of  the event the event.  We hired quad bikes (don’t do as I do, Thomas: do as I say) and roared around...

  The day started full of hope that a little light fettling, for an hour or so, would see us ready for the next leg of our journey. Ha! After a quick power wash for all cars, the light fettling started. First, Nigel wanted to check his tappets. He enrolled that leviathan of mechanical excellence in the shape of, none other than, moi……(what? This is literally incredible, Ed). No worries, I thought, I can do this. My confidence was improved dramatically when Hugo joined the party. He really knows his stuff.  Soon after completing this task, Nigel announced four of his push rods were bent. Hugo and I looked at each other. Should we feel responsible for this? We decided it was not our fault. Hugo went walkabout with Nellie, whilst I returned to worry about my radiator. It has been dripping for a few days. Loose nuts were to blame (and in this instance, we mean of the threaded type not as a euphemism for anything else). To hell with it! No more dilly-dallying around. Let’s take the...

I was informed by a travelling colleague this morning that I should be more circumspect in my reportage. So,  Today, we set about getting our driving licences and Chinese registration plates.   This involved doing to the test station which was about an hour away.      Along the way we passed several police checkpoints, where IDs were checked before continuing.  Travel in this region involves routine stops at checkpoints, which can add time to the journey.  The road included multiple security checks, so travelers should keep their documents handy.  Checkpoints are a regular feature here — part of daily life and the travel experience. Better? After some to-ing and fro-ing we passed our tests (actually not having done a single thing, apart from showing a warning triangle and a fire extinguisher) and we were informed by our guide we could return to the hotel and tomorrow we would receive our licences and reg plates. On our way back, we were stopp...

  Yurt camping is an acquired taste. They fire up the stove so you have a sauna when you deliver yourself to bed and then you gently cool down as the fire goes out, until you wake at about 2.00 am wishing you had put in an extra layer, but by then your body is already cold and no amount of extra layers deal with the insipid nature of coldness. Add to this the owners dog prowling around the camp and letting off a volley of barks from the time you had just drifted back to sleep and repeat this endlessly until the alarm goes at an ungodly hour and dress hurriedly without electricity, in the dark. Punishment such as this does not end there. You drive 2 hours in the dark in fantastically cold temperatures. Wind biting from every angle. No chance of the engine providing any heat, it is struggling to keep the pots turning. We froze.   Arrival at the border, which we were promised would take 7 hours to navigate and indeed 7 hours was the time it took, and so began the merry-go-round o...

  Last night, after the sensible crews retired to bed, the rebel rousers continued; finishing off the remains (like more than half) of the Balvenie and a few cleansing ales and joined the next door wedding party. It was a bit like in Semey 15 years ago when Chris and Rupert Marks did the same and won a tie for their dancing. No such tie was warded last night. Make up your own mind.   We fettled the cars this morning, with a disappointing lack of sore heads. We endured some telling off from the hotel staff for misusing the gardener’s hosepipe to wash the cars.  At the appointed hour, half the party went to the supermarket to purchase booze whilst half continued to fettle. We met up at the last garage in town. Blue Lagonda and Vauxhall set the pace realising quickly that we were alone. What to do? Carry on or return? The rear party has not only Chris but David too. What were we going to offer? Top Gear rules.  Some time later Nigel started to suffer from a recurrent pr...