Mongol Rally: Mongolia Wild Rides, Waterlogged Diana, and Yurt Magic.
At long last, we crossed into Mongolia, where hand signals became our main language – especially when chatting with village kids who saw us off from the border with all the enthusiasm of a mini welcoming party.
From there, it was straight into the desert, surrounded by herds of camels, horses, and cattle with a freewheeling view of endless plains and white-topped mountains.
We’d pass a lake or a stream here and there, but mostly, it was just us and the great beyond, save for two kids hauling water from a stream into a laundry tub, doing their part to keep the wild heart of Mongolia turning.
The “roads”? None here.
We were in the thick of streams, muddy tracks, and rocky hills, driving by the grace of a few good tie-wraps after Diana’s battery gave up and had to be rigged up with a very ill-fitting replacement.
One day, we got so lost we nearly started questioning reality – hours of aimless circling until, finally, we stumbled upon a couple setting up a yurt for winter.
I joined them, learning to build a yurt on the go, exchanging gestures and smiles instead of words, sharing lunch and even a shot of our Zuica.
Then came the real adventure: as night fell, we found our path blocked by a raging river.
Starving and too tired to think straight, Alex made a bold call to cross it.
Poor Diana!
She didn’t stand a chance, plunging into the river only to have water pour in, soaking everything we owned.
Just as we were starting to think this was it, a herder in an old pickup pulled up with his wives and hauled us out of the river, all of us dripping wet, muddied, and half-frozen.
In the middle of the night, with his headlamp on, Alex turned into a mad scientist, dismantling Diana’s engine by hand, cleaning every tiny piece with benzine.
I made a fire and dried our soggy clothes as the herder’s family kindly offered us a place in their yurt (though Alex, knee-deep in grease, declined).
As we shared a bottle of Zuica under a sky spilling with stars, I felt this surreal wave of peace – like the world was perfectly in perfect order for a night.
The next morning, we learned some yurt-life skills, like starting a fire with yak dung, and the herder even drove two hours to fetch engine oil, waving away our money with a smile.
After sneaking the cash to his wives and getting their final gifts in the form of a 2-liter alcoholic drink and a few kilograms of dry cheese (both made from yuk milk), we were back on the road, desperately hoping for a real garage.
Over the next days, Diana only started if I gave her a running push – my new official role.
Finally, we spent a half-day in a dusty garage, hoping to find a fix.
While Alex and the mechanics tinkered, I sat with the mechanic’s family, learning about their culture and dreams through Google Translate.
Diana, stubborn as ever, would only start with a push from then on.
We reached Ulaanbaatar, the capital, and while Alex was ready to wrap up the adventure, I had a few days left in me to wander the city solo, savoring the last taste of Mongolian life before crossing back into Russia for the final leg.
And that was it – almost the end of our wild, ridiculous, unforgettable rally, as we drove towards the finish line in Siberia.
More from the Mongol Rally here: