To grow old(er) is obviously not such a great thing. Yes, some would say that the older you get, the wiser you get, the more experienced you get etc. To me, it boils down to the two things. On the one hand, you do not care as much about what others say about you than you did when you were younger. I think it gives you a lot of freedom. On the other hand, it takes you way longer to pitch a tent, or to fix a car than it did only a few years ago. Which, of course, takes a lot of freedom away.
When we woke up at that wind swept hillside, some freedom was taken away from us. A cursory look underneath the car discovered that the rear arm under the suspension was loose. Very, very loose. With the old men's speed we fixed it, checked some other bolts and nuts, packed the tents, prepared our breakfast, and a bit after midday we were on our way again. The gravel, rocks, and berms did not disappoint us as they remained almost the same as before. However, we drove also into a bit of the Mongolian steppe-like mountainous plateaus that provided us with a few kilometers of relatively fast gravel roads.
The day went by quickly and we found a nice lake to camp - this time way earlier than the day before since the memory of the past night was still fresh. The lake reminded me of the Lake Tahoe with the mountains on almost all of the sides, yet, in contrast to Tahoe, with not a single person around. We slept, washed our clothes, and the next day drove the same sandy, gravely, rocky berms of the road. Until we came to another creek/stream crossing. Umm, I think the word "stream" does not cut it. Neither does "creek". This was a big one. More like a little river crossing that tells you:"I had enough of you, now turn and go back to where you came from."
We looked and looked and looked and could not find any place to cross it. With our 13" wheels and with ignition sensors located relatively low, we were pretty sure we have a higher chance to get stuck somewhere in the middle of this little river than to cross it. There were also rocks underneath the water, preventing us to "just gun it". We waited for the locals on the motorbike to find out how they cross it. We have done a strategy meeting and considered so many alternatives that any freshly graduated MBA would be envious. Then we offloaded all our stuff and carried it over. We decided to drive through four little "islands" thus making it four shorter crossings rather than one that was clearly impossible.
Hynek put a lot of grease all around the ignition sensor box, we said "it is 50/50" and we went for it. And we made it. Barely, but we made it. There is a well known and sometimes feared river in Baja 1000 race. It is called Calamajue River. I drove it twice. The first time I drove it was as close to hell as I have ever been. But now, I had to thank to the Calamajue for all it taught me. We loaded all our stuff into the car again. We drank a cup of tea to celebrate. I know, it is pitiful. A cup of what? But we had the tea and nothing else, so why not? For some reason it reminded me of Alan Ockwell. A man, who due to his English roots might also appreciate "a nice cup of tea". Also, from how I know him, one of the nicest and humblest person I have ever met. Which is nice in a man who is a multiple Canadian rally champion.
We crossed the little river and soon we were in Ulaagom, had a great dinner, drove a bit more, found a creek, set up a camp and went to sleep. Just waiting for what tomorrow brings. Or, better yet, what tomorrow throws at us.
When we woke up at that wind swept hillside, some freedom was taken away from us. A cursory look underneath the car discovered that the rear arm under the suspension was loose. Very, very loose. With the old men's speed we fixed it, checked some other bolts and nuts, packed the tents, prepared our breakfast, and a bit after midday we were on our way again. The gravel, rocks, and berms did not disappoint us as they remained almost the same as before. However, we drove also into a bit of the Mongolian steppe-like mountainous plateaus that provided us with a few kilometers of relatively fast gravel roads.
The day went by quickly and we found a nice lake to camp - this time way earlier than the day before since the memory of the past night was still fresh. The lake reminded me of the Lake Tahoe with the mountains on almost all of the sides, yet, in contrast to Tahoe, with not a single person around. We slept, washed our clothes, and the next day drove the same sandy, gravely, rocky berms of the road. Until we came to another creek/stream crossing. Umm, I think the word "stream" does not cut it. Neither does "creek". This was a big one. More like a little river crossing that tells you:"I had enough of you, now turn and go back to where you came from."
We looked and looked and looked and could not find any place to cross it. With our 13" wheels and with ignition sensors located relatively low, we were pretty sure we have a higher chance to get stuck somewhere in the middle of this little river than to cross it. There were also rocks underneath the water, preventing us to "just gun it". We waited for the locals on the motorbike to find out how they cross it. We have done a strategy meeting and considered so many alternatives that any freshly graduated MBA would be envious. Then we offloaded all our stuff and carried it over. We decided to drive through four little "islands" thus making it four shorter crossings rather than one that was clearly impossible.
Hynek put a lot of grease all around the ignition sensor box, we said "it is 50/50" and we went for it. And we made it. Barely, but we made it. There is a well known and sometimes feared river in Baja 1000 race. It is called Calamajue River. I drove it twice. The first time I drove it was as close to hell as I have ever been. But now, I had to thank to the Calamajue for all it taught me. We loaded all our stuff into the car again. We drank a cup of tea to celebrate. I know, it is pitiful. A cup of what? But we had the tea and nothing else, so why not? For some reason it reminded me of Alan Ockwell. A man, who due to his English roots might also appreciate "a nice cup of tea". Also, from how I know him, one of the nicest and humblest person I have ever met. Which is nice in a man who is a multiple Canadian rally champion.
We crossed the little river and soon we were in Ulaagom, had a great dinner, drove a bit more, found a creek, set up a camp and went to sleep. Just waiting for what tomorrow brings. Or, better yet, what tomorrow throws at us.