After a hungover train ride from London we meet Derek, our awesome car mechanic, at the Surrey station who then drove us to the car we’d be spending the next 6ish weeks in. Derek and his son Joe did an awesome job with the car. It was everything we had hoped for and more. Massive THANK YOU for their efforts!! After a few brief introductions with Derek’s family we split up, half of us to go get tools for the inevitable breakdowns and the other half to get tragic single-use festival tents for the many nights spent camping on the side of the road – at least they set themselves up with a pop. Again Derek and his brother Nigel were instrumental in helping as we didn’t have a clue on where to start looking for some of these items.

With a wave and a toot we left Surrey in search of the Goodwood motor circuit where we would meet all the other teams. We were flying our massive NZ flag and as soon as we had parked up at the circuit another team ran up to say hi. We quickly became known as the Kiwi team. The rest of the night we hung out with The Travelers of Catan < >(another kiwi team) along with other teams and listened to some funky gypsy dj playing Mongolia’s greatest hits while an Aussie got his junk out and tipped over the 10m long MONGOL RALLY sign before managing to get a team photo with it.

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We ran into a crash on the M23 where a five car pile up had blocked the highway a couple hundred metres in front of us. We made the most of it by unwrapping our 7 quid chairs and setting up camp in the middle of the motorway while chatting to the numerous locals that thought our car was nutty, and the team nuttier. < > To add to the annoyance, the ferry from Dover to Calais was delayed an hour and Burger King, one of two options, was sold out of everything except cheesy bites and nuggets!

The ferry ride consisted of gazing at white cliffs < > for some minutes and trying to figure out how to fit the European headlight adapter that we foolishly bought for 8 pounds. In the end it was too much for our fried brains so we just left in the packet where it still remains. Sorry European drivers!!

Landing in Calias we had to quickly figure out how to drive on the other side of the road. No dramas there. We also had to get used to having a higher vehicle after a high five with a low underground car park warning sign. Luckily the car won the fight. We made a brief stop in Bruges purely for coffee, saw a few sights. Nice town.

If we can make any comment on Belgium it’s that their road signs are confusing. Antwerp was confusing at best. Navigating the highways attempting to bypass the city was our first major navigation test – which we failed of course. After 30min of going around in circles we finally found the obscure sign pointing us in the right direction and moved on – think of a New Zealand suburb street sign directing the road to SH1. We landed in Amsterdam at 2:30am and found ourselves a hostel still bustling away. In our favour it is a city that lives and breaths all day every day.

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Waking up in Amsterdam is like the first ever trip to space. You don’t know what’s in store, what to expect, or what to prepare for, but you can be damn sure it’ll be eventful.

We were pleasantly surprised at the quality of the hostel on the first night. Much better than our shitbox sauna in London – a public restroom even gives you more space to throw your limbs around. We made the most of our time there and caught up on some sleep. Then we hooned into the District… Oh man. What a place.

It’d be rude not to try everything (“when in Rome”) so we went straight into the first coffee shop and purchased four ‘space cakes’. We knew what they were – we weren’t born yesterday. 11am, first cake down, better get a beer. A few beers down, lunchtime. Better go see a live show! You could see the disappointment on their parents’ faces. Weirdest entertainment we’ve ever seen, you have to go. By the time we had left it was somehow dark outside. The red lights were luminous; we’ll have to cut this story short, details may be better served face to face than sown here.

We were getting some interesting glances from people while walking down the street, more than your usual tourist. Then an English-speaking couple stopped us laughing and pointing before explaining that the word Mongo in Dutch is slang for moron. We were all wearing our matching deep green ‘Mongol Rally’ t-shirts. What a laugh!

That night we camped at a loose as camp site on an island. There were no allotted spaces, just find a spot and go for gold. Still waiting for a dry camping night, it rained, again, and the load of washing that we had hung out the previous day was now wet, again. Cool. Wham it in the boot and drive! Next destination: Leuven.

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After leaving Amsterdam we had a very brief and uneventful drive to Leuven where Simon’s brother, Julian, is based. It was amazing timing as it was his bday as well as being Belgium Day. He and his flatmates put us up for the night – GC’s. Here we proceeded to do the only thing you can do it Belgium – drink the many beers on offer. We went to a pub which had a cellar with 2000 beers, one just had to point at a beer on the menu and a bottle of it would come up on a conveyor belt – brilliant. Here we attracted the attention of a bunch of Belgian army officers who were interested in our travel plans, particularly the countries in the middle east. After a few “you’re crazy” remarks we managed to source out the best beer from them.
We tried some frittes (double fried fries) which is another thing Belgium does well and played some pool to cap off another awesome day.

After a lovely sleep away from our 25 quid tents, stretched out in Julz’s bedroom (the living room), we jumped in the blue beast and left Leuven in search of the Nurburgring. We travelled through Bastogne where we the Battle of the Bulge happened (WW2) and got to check out a Sherman Tank in the town square. We blitzed through Luxembourg to get some cheap petrol before passing over the German border. The in-flight entertainment changed from looking at the scenery to watching cars blitzing past at speeds 3 times faster than what we were traveling. Got to love the Autobahn!

After taking our touristy photos at the race course stadium of the Nurburgring we headed out to a car hire shop and seated ourselves each in a Renault Clio sport – left hand drive and manual. With a short and sweet safety briefing and a cold 10000 euro ( more than the entire trips cost each ) excess on the insurance the cars were taken out onto the track. The 21km public toll road goes by quick when cars are screaming past you at unreal speeds around unreal corners. Traction control saved us the excess every second corner.

With smiles still plastered to our faces we handed the cars back and got our own engine warmed up as we drove to the track entrance. Denied once, we removed the tires from our roof rack. Denied a second time, we undid Derek’s hard work and removed the jerry can stuck to the side of the car. With 1min left open we lined up to the track and were denied a third and final time. Didn’t make any friends with the officials but plenty of the motorheads were enjoying the show.

Less smiley now, but still in good spirits, we packed up and headed in search of Zurich making sure to buy a frankfurter from Frankfurt on the way. Short story short, we ended up in a Zurich park passing out in our seats at 4am.

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Zurich consisted of 3 hours of hellish sleep in a car under a “no parking” sign where paranoia got the better of us. The only positive to come out of the morning was taking a swim in a 25 degree lake.
We made out way through the picturesque valleys to Lichtenstein to find a cool looking castle, before skipping through Austria to make our way to Munich to have a beer, meats, and a massive pretzel for lunch at the famous Hoffbrau house. < > We met some cool Brazilian Austrians, one of which had spent some time as a soldier in the middle east. He thought we were batty.
Once we sobered up a little we headed off to the Czech republic border aiming for Prague to finish the day.

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Czech republic is a neat place. Driving over the border you can see a change in landscape so instant when driving hundreds of kilometres a day. It is a destination for East Germans. Casinos and strip clubs were in the most remote and random towns near the border. It was here that things got noticeably cheaper, beers were $1. Consequently we kept stopping at petrol stations to purchase beers. It’s no wonder we arrived very late in Prague. Upon arrival we found an awesome camp ground about 5km from the city centre. Complete with cafe and bar this place was awesome. They were very welcoming even at the late hour we arrived at. We spent a day looking around Prague and sampling the many pilsener beers on offer. We went wrong when we hired a 4 person pedal boat and went out on the river. Scotty’s phone ended up somewhere in the murky depths along with all his hard earned Tinder matches. Rough.

Naturally after a hard day of touristy shit we needed some beers. We decided to drink back at the camp site where we met some interesting characters. It was here we met Phil and his partner. He was only too happy to join us in sinking beers and chat up the chicks/ruin a good wing man attempt. The next morning we were greeted with chocolate croissants, Phil you can come drink with us any time.

Going out in Prague was an interesting experience, thanks to the second pair of lovely humans Baro and Anna it was also an awesome experience – getting to see some of the places we would only have stumbled upon after weeks in the city. Every bar we went to was underground and was comprised of a complex tunnel network, the first had an large unmarked door taking you through a pitch black corridor before turning you round and down into the bar. It kinda felt like we were hiding in a bunker while getting pissed!

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We moved on towards to Austria through Brno where we briefly met up with another of Simon’s friends Kevin who moved from NZ last year. More chuckles and friendly shakes of the head.

We smashed some Wiener Schnitzel in Vienna which were amazing and also very big!! That night we decided to try freedom camping for the first time, somewhere in the outskirts of Vienna. Google maps told us it was in a national park surrounded a lake though all we managed to see in the dark was acres of dirt road and grape vines. After a long time looking for the perfect spot we gave in and ended up next to someone’s unfenced vineyard and set our alarms. Also like to mention that to keep the streak going, once again we were greeted with some nice rain

A product of the small South Island town of Timaru, with not much to do in this part of the world you had to make your own fun.  It was here that the antics started.

I met Scotty at the start of my first year of uni in a maths lecture and have been good mates ever since.  Maths assignments soon went out the window (literally) as we swapped them for beer/scrumpy and further trouble ensued.  It was a widely accepted fact in our hall of residence-where there was trouble there was Scotty.  Living with the guy was an interesting time, antics included the systematic destruction of our flat and starting fires at any given opportunity.  If we ever need a fire started on the trip he’s the man for the job.

Fast forward 9 years and although a little more mature, he is still the most accident prone guy I know.  Im sure he’s on first name basis with the local hospital staff.  Will be sure to pack the first aid kit!

He now lives a relatively peaceful life in Wellington, with the student antics being replaced by cars and motorbikes.

One thing is for sure, where there’s Scotty there’s trouble.

Presenting our 1998 Suzuki Wagon-R+ in baby blue.

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We set Derek a task to transform this nana-spec joke of a car into a road-destroying, moment-inspiring, experience-creating, soul-enhancing, little monster. And here’s photos of the progress he’s made.

First of all, a roof cage and LED flood light are fitted. Look at that thing – the power of 1,000 suns!

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Until then,
Scotty and The Lost Kiwis

We have revisited the first draft of our route which we planned out during Session #1 – the one we’ve been parading around on our website for the past while. Doing the calcs, this route would have seen us journey 21,151kms of roads and questionable terrain. This means we would need to average 503kms of travel per day and use a whopping 1692 litres of fuel, worth $3367 at NZ prices.

The implications of the planned 21,000+ kilometre route meant that if we broke down and lost a day, which is inevitable by the way, we would need to spend a whole day or night in the car to catch up. We also had no contingency days planned.

After much deliberation and anguish, it was wholly agreed to bump a few of Europe destinations off the hoon-path. Our reasoning was that we are much more likely to return to this part of the world later in life.

So! Out go Italy and Croatia which reduced our path to an average of 473kms per day, totalling 19,851kms.

Another significant change we made was to deviate from travelling across Afghanistan. Our source of advisory for this change was information gleamed from Afghan taxi drivers during work trips. Warnings of Taliban and bandits, roads that range from very bad to non-existent, and unexploded land mines left over from the Soviet-Afghan War were more than enough to elicit a resounding “nope” from The Kiwis.

This gives us the opportunity to journey north though the Ahal Province of Turkmenistan. 260km north of Ashgabat in the middle of the Karakum Desert is the site of a natural gas fire that has been burning since it was lit by Soviet petroleum engineers in 1971. The photos really show why the locals call it the “Door to Hell”, and I bet it’ll be just as impressive in person!

Signing off for now, I’ll leave you with the updated hoon-path. Keen to hear your comments!

~Scotty

Somewhat proudly, the two stuff-ups both fell outside the driving test itself. Not-so-proudly, the first failure saw me arriving for the practical test 24 hours early, and the second not having my car’s road tax in check.

With my new bit of paper, it will be an easier time convincing legal officials across our journey that I can in fact drive. Convincing my team will be a different story and one that will have to wait until day one to be truly tested. Until then, I will leave them with the comforting thought that a practical test around Wellington suburbia sees me fit to drive some of Mongolia’s deserted roads.

~Carson

We are not only risking our lives just to say we have conquered this amazing highway but also to take in the some of the most incredible scenery the world has to offer. Some things are worth the risk! The amount of amazing feedback from people who have traversed the highway is more than enough to convince us that it’s worth doing! Check out some of the amazing photos have taken while traveling the highway. Something to look forward to me thinks.

A significant portion of the road from Dushanbe to Khorog is extremely dangerous due to the many trucks transporting goods from China. The Khaburabot Pass appears to be an extremely steep climb, reaching almost 3200 meters over 30kms. I can’t imagine the extreme pressure our little tin can will have to go through to claim this peak.

If you are squeamish about cliffs, fast moving rivers, and the ever-present threat of head-on collisions, this particular highway is not for you!

~Simon

Mr Bradley Cooper is a scraggly-haired lad from the dirty deep south of the South Island. Hailing from Makarewa near Invercargill, Brad has had a world of freedom at his fingertips from day one. During his early years going to school at a small-town High School brad would chase the girls and pull their hair. A real ladys’ man in the making.

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I had the privilege of meeting Brad during our first year of study at the University of Otago in Dunedin. We quickly became bff’s (no homo) and got down to the business of sinking as much booze as possible. We coined the manoeuvre “Mains and Cheese” that we used at bad parties or shitty gigs. If it was well-deserved, one would locate the mains power box and flick the Mains switch, remove the main relay, then Cheese it as fast as possible down the street. Not only would the party be without power, but there would be no turning it back on until the morning!

Me, Brad, Simon, and another cobber of ours decided to flat together in our second year of study. There was always a crate full of big-bots and zero veggies in the fridge. We quickly discovered that yes, you could get away with fireworks in the shower, writing on the walls, half-height doors, burnt couches, and a generous stack of knicked firewood in the backyard.

Anyway, Brad decided one day that he wanted to become a ‘Hydrographic Surveyor’. I put that in inverted commas because none of us know what that actually is, nor can we be bothered googling it. Brad currently resides on a boat off the coast of Perth for a large portion of the year doing who knows what.

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Bradley brings a positive attitude to the Team, albeit a bit stubborn. He will be the first one to volunteer to run 20kms when we run out of fuel, and the last one standing at the end of the night.

Buckle up, lad.

One of the worlds biggest optimists, if told to fix the car with popsicle sticks and a few pieces of string im sure he will consider it.  Any non believers will be met with the rhetorical comeback of “so?!”

Famous projects include: “Matt Black”  - the car that just keeps going (I think it still goes).  That little chopper motorbike he won in laser tag that just wouldnt stop either, im seeing a trend here…

All in all not a bad bloke, our trusty mechanic Simon (Grievous)

If all else fails he will get the tractor going

Simon in action

Grievous looking for car parts

The same cannot be said for some of the regions we will be travelling through! We realise that the dangers of getting stung, shot, bitten, beaten, broken, bashed, bruised, or any combination of the aforementioned are very real. We will be brushing shoulders with military and extremist groups of all types as we pass through some of the areas worst-struck by conflict. SafeTravel is a travel advisory website run by the NZ government (link). Many of the destinations we are planning to visit fall into the ‘Extreme Risk’ category and travel is ill-advised.

To prepare for crappy situations, I’ve just completed 3 levels of First Aid courses including Pre-Hospital Emergency Care (PHEC). St John say that this course “provides the knowledge and skills required to deliver immediate advanced first aid assistance in any situation”. The chances of getting an ambulance to drive a million kilometers into the Gobi Desert are slim, even our Comprehensive travel insurance can’t guarantee that we’ll get help in time.

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I’ll be encouraging the lads to up-skill in their own First Aid knowledge so we can provide competent care, should a ‘health event’ occur.

Euphemisms aside, no one dies on my watch.
~Scotty

After our freak out of the couple of dozen countries on our visa list, we’ve locked ourselves into a weekly meet up where beers are dinner and Scotty is left staring through his camera. Puzzling with each other over how to start nutting the route planning, we printed and sellotaped a few A3s worth of map covering Europe and Asia practicing some skills that will surely come in handy on the side of the road.

With the crafted map, Google searches like “Burning hole in Turkmenistan”, and 27 blue dots, we stuck-off a good list of the places we could be going. The places we were gleaming to see, and the places we’d need to stroll through, left us with some nice talking points about the almost-route we’d plotted.

Northern or Southern Europe? Across the Caspian Sea or through Iran? Squeeze ourselves through Russia for a double Visa or head through China? Yes, no, sounds easy.