The Doodle Car

There are very few roads in Mongolia. Instead there are multiple dusty tracks heading in different directions. Sometimes there are no tracks at all and because there are very few landmarks in the desert you just have to follow a compass bearing until you hit a) a river or b) a mountain range. At these points you might be able to work out where you are to the nearest 50km.

It may sound like I’m complaining but I’m not. Quite the opposite in fact. Being able to pick your own route through the expansive dusty deserts is an absolute pleasure, and when you do find your path blocked by the a river it was a welcome change to the dry arid dessert. It also means a brake from driving and a chance to test your problem solving skills with tires and planks of wood.

However, there is a dear price to pay for this that comes in the form of a day in a garage spent repairing various parts of these poor cars that were not designed for such rough terrain. We’d see lots of teams looking to hitch lifts as there ’steeds’ became undone and fell apart on the road.

Saying that our beautiful little Suzuki Swift has had no problems – a couple of punctures yes, but she cruises on undeterred…

After driving through the stunning Altai Mountains we finally reached the Russian – Mongolian border town of Tsagaannuur. We arrived to the news that the last car to leave the border on the Mongolian side had taken 26 hours to get through. So with this in mind we unpacked the volley ball and aerobie and for the next 5 hours occupied ourselves with the local kids who emerged in their droves.

We eventually passed through the Russian border just before sundown. Interestingly, where the line marked the end of Russian territory, it also marked the end of the road. Permanently. We’re now camping on the Mongolian side whilst they attempt to make sense of what we’re doing and give us the go ahead to drive into their country.  They’ve allowed us out of the border fence to pitch tent but the temperature has dropped to 0 celsius again and apparently they had snow last night. Time to get the fire on the go.

Most nights we spend in our awesome 4 man Quecha pop-up tent. In Europe we’d usually find a cheap campsite so we could shower and use their wifi. However, since we crossed the Russian border the campsites have altogether disappeared. We’ve taken this to mean that you can camp just about anywhere you like.

We’ve had a couple of great camping spots in Europe – the woods near Bruges, a lake in Poland and the beach in Latvia – but none have come close to the last two nights.

On Wednesday night we camped with the girls (Vic and Helen) and another team on a river in the foothills of the Altai Mountain region in Southern Russia. And on Thursday night we found a flat spot, on a ridge over the looking over the gorge we’d just driven through (300km further into the Altai Mountains).

The temperature at night now consistently drops to 0c which initially took us by shock. But we’ve now taken to wrapping hot rocks, heated over the fire and wrapped in towels, to bed with us. This works brilliantly for about 3 hours however, the next morning you have to wake up with a sleeping bag full of cold rocks. This isn’t ideal.

Date : 12th August
Countries : Russia, Kazakhstan
Time Zone : GMT + 4

Three days ago Anthony was stopped by police for absolutely no reason and despite hints at keeping his driving license and an exchange of money, we drove away unscathed. today was my turn. Newly into kazakhstan around 100k into my drive i was pulled over. I was unsure what the speed limit was and therefore unsure if i had been speeding. Hanging out of my driver side window i hollered my friendliest zdrast vuyt ye (hello in Russian) which was recieved with a smile by the advancing highway patrol man. getting out of the car with all relevant papers i started walking back to to his car with him, having a friendly chat and a few smiles. I thought my luck was in.

As i advanced on the police car, I saw his partner, who had seemingly just finished his umpteenth doughnut of the day judging by the crumbs in his moustache and the 60 inch waste. Immediately the dynamics of my situation changed as the fat cop began to berate me in a foreign toungue. I did my best stupid tourist impression and kept handing him more and more papers as he showed me quite clearly that i had been driving at 90kmh in a 60 zone. My dumb at only seemed to worsten matters for a while so eventually i changed tact, Apologising. The Fat cop seemed to ponder for the longest while what to do with me and eventually showed me a fine for 7506 Tenge. (about 30 pounds. Some negotiation ensued and he eventually agreed to 5000 in cash. when i offered him the crisp bill he signalled that i should put it on the floor of his car, and then walk away, a big fat corrupt grin on his face.

I guess we knew that we would have to pay a fine at some point but this took me by surprise regardless.

We left Ildar’s house early morning and were headed for the border. We had 600k to cover and the roads made it seem more like 800. 13 full hours in the car saw us arrive after dark, with the border closed. We met a nice Russian police officer called Demitri who warned us away from the toilets and helped us understand the rules about parking at a border crossing. He also pointed us toward a small shack with the light turned on where he implied we could get food.

The shack had four small wooden tables, a bodged together counter and an extremely large Russian Woman who seemed to have very little interest in providing any sort of customer service. She also appeared to be wearing a nighty, open from the neck almost to the waist and revealing a cleavage that absolutely knoone wanted to see. We played charades for a while desparate to spend our last 200 rubles (about 4 pounds) on food. The lady disappeared behind a curtain in back and came out holding a bag of four very limp (probably saw her cleavage) carrots and another bag containing four eggs. we discussed our options for a while and eventually settled for cooking our own super noodles, relieving cleavage lady of 6 eggs a few slices of bread and two tomatoes.

Dinner was cooked up with haste. and we were tucked up in our tent right outside the border crossing within a half hour.

The following morning was started with a big batch of eggy bread and sliced tomato, before packing up and joining the back of a substantial que of cars. We waited in the burning sun for hour upon hour, packing and repacking the back of the car looking for the optimum setup and performing running repairs where needed. So far we have had to repair one bag of baby wipes, Tool used : Duck Tape. One bag of rice ; Tool used : Duck tape. The front grill, Tool used Zip tie. Not exactly Haines manual worthy i know but manly all the same. We also spent some time bringing the rapidly fading doodles on the car back to life. The main portion of this time was taken up through singing and dancing to appease our many spectators. one by one the occupants of every vehicle came to inspect the doodle car, and with each one we engaged in the usual explanation, using maps and lots of sign language to explain our quest, the charity, the car, the doodles. etc.

In short we waited for around 5 hours to be let in to the border. We then went through 2 hours of Russian bureaucracy, before being allowed through… Then arriving at the Kazakh border only to have to go through it all again, this time this including a search of our luggage (imagine the upheaval) and a bunch more bureaucracy for good measure.

We finally escaped into Kazakhstan around 9 hours after joining the que on the Russian side. exhausted from our mentally demanding day. We drove into Aktobe and went shopping for some supplies, namely more baby wipes which are becoming the most important thing in the car as we get dirtier and the showers sparser.

At the supermarket we asked a man where we could sleep in town, and he agreed to let us follow him to a hotel. The hotel was huge, basic and soviet and appeared to boast being the best 1 star hotel in kazakhstan according to the many gold plaques on the wall. We negotiated our bill down from 35 pounds per person to 25 for all three, and hit the town in search of food. Our first meal in kazakhstan was the best we have had so far this trip and washed down with a half liter of vodka it brought us happily to bed time and beyond.

Another successful border crossing. Done.

Date : 11th August
Countries : Russia, Kazakhstan
Time Zone : GMT + 4

It’s a cheeky but knowing look that a Russian Policeman gives you as he tucks your driving license into his top pocket. It says “you know, you’re not going to get his back until I get some money”. This was the first time we’d been stopped in Russia so I was a little nervous. My chosen technique was to play dumb – act like I didn’t understand a word he said (which I didn’t anyway) and therefore exhaust him into letting me off (whatever I did).

I gave him piece after piece of irrelevant paper work, each time with an expectant look. He grew tired and after 15 minutes of back and forth money signals which I, inconveniently for him, understood as him wanting food (which by the size of him could very well be exactly what he wanted), left his car without so much as a ruble leaving my wallet.

Me – 1
Fat Russian Policeman – 0

This post wil attempt to explain how we ended up shotting vodka in the back of a blacked out Lada, parked in a field on the outskirts of Almetysk at 2 am this morning

Driving a car covered completely in doodles attracts plenty of attention. Nearly all of this attention bares the form of waves, thumbs up, laughing and pointing (in the nice way – we think). Occasionally someone pulls us over and we engage in the carefully rehearsed display of charades with a handful of props consiting entirely of a map and a Sharpie. But last night we were unknowingly at the centre of a Kazan to Almetysk relay.

As we understand: two ladies were driving near Kazan when they saw our car zipping through the traffic. They then made a phone call to Hilda, (300 km closer to the Kazakh border) who set out to find us. We’d stopped to pick up some grub for supper and consult some locals about a good place to pitch our tent when Ildar pulls up behind us and runs over to the car. He starts rabbiting away in Russian and is met my the usual blank faces looking back at him. But as we reached for the glove compartment for the charades kit he acts out the international sign for food and bed and insists that we follow him. So, we kinda did…

To cut a long story short, we ate and drank with the family until early morning. Then, after 3 helping of potato and meat soup and a record breaking vodka shotting seesion, Ildar suggested that his brother’s girlfriend (having passed her test only 10 days previously), drive us about town to see the sites including the oil company where most of the family works. On the way back the driver pulled off the road and drove 2 miles down a dark  country track and turned off the engine. For the 5th time that night, out came the vodka.

Last night we got a real insight into the lives of a family who are all involved in oil in some way – this doesn’t make them rich by any means but they certainly know how to show 3 lost guys a great night.

Oh – and if putting us up for the night, feeding and watering us wasn’t enough – we also walked away with a bag of cucumbers, a jar of pickles and some berry compot, all home grown in their garden. What an amazing family!

And what did we learn? Bring 2 bottles of vodka next time – 1 bottle will only last 8 minutes in such circumstances.

Date : 6th, 7th, 8th August

Countries : Russia

Time Zone : GMT + 3 / + 4

Mileage : 2,640 – 3,900

Observant readers of  this blog will notice that on previous entries our mileage has crept up day by day, for The Doodle Car is by no means the hare of the story, rather a snail, slow and steady, but reliable. She likes to stop and see the sights, smell the ‘fresh’ Russian air, and smile at all the spectators as we pass by at a leisurely pace.  You may also have noticed that this entry is different. We have covered almost 1300 Miles since the last entry, and here is why, a tale of heroics, machoism, and outright stupidity.

Having polished off our fish eggs and butter toast in Pushkin, Sergei, the village director helped us plot a route through the fires which have beseiged Moscow. We were desperate to get some miles under our belt, and decided the best time to do so would be at night to avoid the scorching sun. We stocked up on sugary smnacks and energy drinks and hit the road hard with the fury of a band of hells angels, We were in convoy with R squared, a Dublin based duop of American Googlers… We swapped cars, swapped music, laughed and smiled as we ate up the miles through the night.

About 200 miles north of moscow we commented on first the burning smell, then the slight haze around the street lights, and soon the thick smoke that surrounded us, we drove with the windows up into thicker and thicker smog as the night wore on. our eyes stung and breathing became labored, the fun of the night drive, slowly ebbed away.

When dawn broke, we were still north of Moscow and now arriving at the ring road we would use to slingshot us around and out the east side of Moscow. Any delusions we may have had of stopping for a time in this city were long gone. With the sun glowing an eery red colour high in the sky, the temperature had soared to well over 40 degrees and driving with the windows up became unbearable, we donned masks and braved the choking smoke. We drove on, getting tired and delirious now. We stopped at McDonalds hoping that the air conditioning would have filtered out some of the smoke and hoping to replenish our waning energy levels.

We drove again until it was dark and arrived at Nizny Novgorod where the smoke seemed to be easing slightly and the flies came back in force. We feasted on Russian hot pot, and bathed ourselves as best we could in the restaurant restrooms We rested for a time by the river, before deciding to press on with one final push for Kazan.

This however was one dangerous and somewhat foolish step too far, our judgement was failing through exhaustion, having slept no more than 2 hours in 48. The drivers struggled to stay awake and knoone else wanted to take over. Eyelids were heavy and this was getting dangerous. A few close calls later, we pulled over for a nap, and woke up with the sun rise a few hours later, Cranky and stiff but refreshed to some extent.

2 days and nights after leaving Pushkin, we eventually arrived in Kazan we had driven 1300 miles and were jubilant to be through it safely. On top of this we had not been stopped by police once. Rsquared, had been pulled twice, and had to bribe there way out with vodka and cigarettes.

The Doodle car had once again come through adversity unscathed and I am beginning to believe that this car has simply too much good Karma to let anything bad happen.

She wants to get to Mongolia as much as we do.

Date: 6th August
Countries: Russia
Time Zone: GMT + 3
Mileage: 2,613 – 2,640

Wow, what a welcome from SOS Puskin! We arrived almost an hour late from St Petersburg partly due to unaccounted for, rush-hour traffic but also because the 8 different locals we had stopped and asked guidance had sent us in complete opposite directions.

Never-the-less, we were prepared this time. On arrival we pulled out the doodle scroll, the Sharpie markers and the gifts from Dodo Pad. As is now almost expected, the kids hands flew in and the doodling / scribbling ensued. Though each of our visits so far have been different the kids enthusiasm never wains. The car keeps them entertained for about an hour and at this point we usually go on a tour of the village and bombard the director and staff with questions. However, once we’d finished doodling, the Village Director gathered the village around and gave a short speech thanking us for our support of the SOS Children’s Villages presented us with a framed letter, an incredible painting by one of the kids and a bag of SOS goodies. We were speechless… And still are.

We were then taken for the first time to one of the village houses for traditional Russian tea. Over butter and fish eggs on bread, we discussed how circumstances in recent history have allowed more than 1 million children to become orphans (consider that Russia has a population of only 140 million). Elena explained how it became almost acceptable to hand your child to the state and therefore parents started not to take responsibility for their children. This attitude has snowballed and is now ingrained in Russian society. It will take a seismic shift in attitude to change this way of thinking.

This visit gave us a much fuller understanding of how and why so many children grow up with out parents in Russia. It was over tea that a stark reality hit home; out of approximately 1 million orphans living in Russia, only a small few are privileged enough to find themselves placed in an SOS Children’s Village. These kids are the ones who are more likely to achieve in life but we can’t help but think that what we’re seeing merely scratches the surface of a much larger issue.