What goes around comes around... Dublin to New york

Things starting to unravel

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I packed up the camp full of enthusiasm, I’d survived a night camping in bitter cold in Russia and now in Mongolia, the bike was running great and I’d the town of Ogliv ahead where I’d get some grub and some local money. Everything was going according to plan. I was feeling quietly confident.

At these moments Irish people have learned to keep the head down and say nothing. The moment you say “Things are going well” is the moment fate will deal you a kick in balls with hob nail boots that you’re likely never to forget. So the way you’re supposed to deal with it is say nothing, don’t even allow yourself to think it.

Well I allowed myself to say it out loud and those words carried on the wind to Loki the god of mischief and chief tormentor of bikers. The next 36 hours were up there with the toughest I’ve had.

My first blip was that as I was coming up a mountain, I crossed some snow lying on the ground, the bike skidded a bit and then I just fell over breaking the right hand guard, battering the right mirror, denting the right pannier and windscreen and driving my left mirror so far into my left tit that it’s been black for days and finally my knee hurt like a mother.

The bike had fallen over on a hill, I tried to lift it but it was facing the wrong way round so I couldn’t lift it. I was in the process of stripping it down when a car came along and two Mongolian chaps gave me a hand getting it up off the ground. After a quick run round the bike to make sure nothing else was broken I was back on the road. The roads straightened out and along the way I stopped off to take some pictures.

Just then a guy came along on a horse, there didn’t seem to be any yurts about so I wondered where he lived. He face was weather beaten and he was younger than he looked. He seemed to be happy out here all by himself. He was just coming over to say hello, he didn’t speak English and obviously I didn’t have a word of Mongolian so I just pulled out the map and showed him where I was headed. He made lots of appreciative noises, but from the way he looked at the map I could tell that he’d never seen one before, or at least never seen one of Mongolia.
I pointed to the Russian border where I came from on the map…and then with my finger in the direction and he nodded, and then pointed to the nearest town, Ogliv. He looked at the map for ages, the same sort of way that we would if when rooting in the attic/loft we found a long forgotten photo album. I shook his hand and said goodbye.


It seemed like every time I stopped before the town of Ogliv someone would come along on a bike, or in a jeep and stop and get out to make sure I was ok and to have a chat. I didn’t pass that many cars but If I was stopped, they always stopped and always got out and it was a ten minute chat with lots of hand signals. “Ireland-Ulaanbaatar-1200CC-brrr(with motions)” and so it went for the early part of the day. The people were friendly beyond anything which I’d encountered before. I saw my first Mongolian signpost, which would continue a trend of seeing one a day for the remainder of my time in the cuds.

All of a sudden about 35km from Ogliv I hit a stretch of tarmac, gorgeous! I thought to myself maybe the Mongolians have come across a few bob and the roads will be better than I expected. Ogliv is a place to get some food, petrol, money and not much more; in fact all of the Mongolian towns are like that, I didn’t pass one that didn’t look in bits.

As I was sitting in the restaurant in Ogliv one of the guys I met at the border the day previous walked in, noticed me and walked over and gave me a big kiss on the cheek , shaking my hand vigorously.

I scouted around the town for the way south and saw a dirty oul track leading out of town. I pointed to the road and said “Hovd?” to which he nodded; I thought I might get a bit more asphalt, I wouldn’t see any more for nearly 1600km.

Over and out
Oisin
 
Oisin,

Glad all is okay from your little tumble.
If that's the first one after the distance you have travelled, I think you should be quite chuffed with yourself. Ride safe and please don't rush back home, I think there's quite a few of us who enjoy reading your report...and look forward to your updates.

Thank you.

5323 views so far.:thumb2
 
sijohnston said:
hope the injuries ease up and that the confidence returns oisin. press on fella!
Click to expand...

Exactly my thoughts and i know just what you mean Oisin about the Irish way of thinking and Loki listening in! :D

amongst all them shtickers - you surely gotta get one of these :D
 

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Stuck in the water

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Not long after I left the town of Olgiy in the direction of Hovd it started to rain and sleet and just a bit further on I had my first minor bit of water to cross. The lakes which are still full of ice are in the process of melting and sending water in various amounts down the paths of least resistance, which in many cases happens to be right in the path of the track that you’re following.

I should have known something was up when I hadn’t seen so much as a car or a truck since I left Olgiy, the way I was taking was not being used by the locals due to all the water draining out of the lakes. It was the third water crossing where I came unstuck.
I was faced with a huge pool of water and wondered whether or not I’d be able to get through it. I scanned all around and no matter where I looked it didn’t look like there was a way through. Any of the raised banks were soft and mushy or would drop off into the water after a couple of feet.

I allowed the bike down the bank with the intention of parking on its shore and to my horror found that the ground was too soft and the bike was starting to sink. I said to myself ok fuck it; barrel through it. Halfway across the pool the bike cut out and I jumped off the bike to hold it upright in the freshly unfrozen ice water.

I tried to push the bike over and over again but the front tire seemed to be stuck in mud. The water was up over the piston head and I was shitting myself that I would draw water into the engine. I stood there freezing cold shouting for help, but none was going to come, the locals were all going a different way precisely because they knew the lake melt had the water too high in this area. The bike was too heavy and was sinking further into the goo so while I was standing in the water I starting unpacking the bike and throwing the stuff from the bike onto the bank of an island in the pool. If the bike fell over in the water it would be fucked, I’d have to wait till someone came along to tow it out and then wait for a truck to bring it somewhere to dry out and get fixed up.

When I threw my helmet it bounced off the bank and started floating down and around the melt water, somehow it didn’t sink.

After twenty of the darkest minutes I’m likely to ever go through where I stood freezing roaring for help I did the whole “torture yourself till you go absolutely mental” routine which involves going completely Bi polar for a while where you let a golum eat away at you till you just go fucking nuts; and then channel the rage into pushing the bike out. The sorts of things that went through my head “fuck it, push the bike over and thumb it to Hovd, fly to Ulaanbaatar and go home”, “At least roll the bike out so you can have the pleasure of burning it out while you dry yourself”, “You are an arrogant fucker to think that you could do this on your own”, “Oh yeah, and by the way fat boy…no one gives a fuck!, now put that in your pipe and smoke it while you stand there and freeze to death” . Granted it’s not healthy but if you’re trying to trigger a Bruce banner moment; “Don’t make me angry Mr. Magee, You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry”; you just have to do it; or at least I have to.

I moved the bike about 8 feet which was enough to move the water to the midpoint of the piston heads and then the bike started and I walked it out of the pool. The effort to do it left me feeling like I was going to have a heart attack and my legs were so cold they were doing the Macarena. Once I got the bike across I’d to walk across to the island in the pool to collect the stuff I’d thrown off and then change out of the wet socks and jocks. Imagine the scene, a completely blue person bare arse and bare mickey standing by a big pool in the middle of Mongolia.

The wind was howling, it was raining and I didn’t know how many more of these I’d have to cross so I said I’d try and find a place to stay in Hovd for the night to get all my stuff dry assuming I could get there.

Over and out
Oisin
 
In the middle of a lake and a mental breakdown - how do you manage to take photo's :nenau

Keep your chins up :thumb

From the contents of your other thread I sense there is worse to come :augie
 
Great reading and video there. :thumb2
says he from the dull but secure comfort of an office chair some distance West.

"other thread"?

There's another? :nenau

Why wasn't i told?! :rob
 
Ogmios said:
Great reading and video there. :thumb2
says he from the dull but secure comfort of an office chair some distance West.

"other thread"?

There's another? :nenau

Why wasn't i told?! :rob
Click to expand...

I did spot Oisin complimenting BMV on the overall quality of the 1200 ownership experience over in the G Spot :augie

Its only the fellers ability to turn into the hulk on demand that has got him this far :D
Keep smiling big man :thumb2

Stewart
 
Back on the road and the shock blows..

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I was lucky as it turned out that this was the last river between me and Hovd. And as I pressed on the weather picked up and the sun did its best to try and break through the clouds. I wasn’t sure I was on course but started to get confident when I saw several directions coming from the direction I was going; “Well they must be coming from Hovd, there’s nothing else on the map!”

Given the roads were a little bit busier I stopped if I wasn’t sure, got out the map and asked passing trucks if I was on course, “to be sure to be sure!” The roads then even had a few markers at the side so I and in the distance the town appeared. None of the Mongolian towns are worth visiting really; they’re all (at least the ones I’ve seen) incredibly poor and wretched. If you’re planning a trip to Mongolia, don’t expect anything from the towns other than gas, some grub and if your desperate a bed for the night. I happened to be soaked and freezing so I’d have slept on a briar as long as it was warm that night.

When I got to the outskirts a guy pulled up beside me who spoke English and asked are you looking for a hotel? I said I was, he said to follow him and he even helped me bring my bags upstairs. Even though the building looked like a blast site and didn’t actually say it was a hotel, the sign said “sauna, pool, smoking”, but the room was perfect, I took off all the wet stuff and washed it and hung it up. They didn’t have any hot water so a cold wash would have to suffice and off I went to find myself some warm grub. The restaurant I went to happened to be in the town’s actual hotel, and the grub was grand. They even took time to put two nipples onto the mounds of rice on the plate to make them look like boobs, or maybe I’ve been sans woman for too long.

The next morning I packed up and stocked up on water and some food, it was 450km to Altay and my plan was to camp about 250km down the road.

The sun was shining, and the road even started with about 2km of hard top; lovely start to the day I told myself. I was making good progress and by about 11am had about 150km done and was in good spirits.

My stomach started to feel a bit rumbly, the ringaskiddies were on the way. With no traffic or people around you just drop the tweeds a little off the track and let her rip. This one was going to be slurry and there was a terrible wind so I decided I better strip off the whole bottoms etc, slurrying in a gale might have some unfortunate consequences. I pointed the ring in the same direction the gale was blowing and fertilized a good acre of the Mongolian desert. Although unlike Yak crap, this you couldn’t use in the fire.

As I looked up I noticed that the incessant gale had caught hold of my tank bag and lifted out the maps from the top sleeve and all the laminates which I’d taken from Simon in Weston and they all started blowing down the valley. In only a couple of seconds they were fifty yards away and by the time the chamber had fully purged they were in Norway. fuck! If you’ll excuse the pun, it was a crap moment. So if you happen to be out and about and you find a laminate of a detailed Mongolia map, treat it nice it’s come a long way.

I didn’t get too disconsolate though because I reckoned I was on the main track to Altay and if I just followed this and used the GPS to tell me I was heading east or southeast I should be ok. (WRONG!!)

The roads were heavily riveted and the vibration me and the bike were putting up with was almost comical. All of sudden the ride got a lot more shaky, I knew what had happened, the rear shock had blown.

I asked myself I wonder can I get to the next big town? Could I make it to Altay? Maybe get the bike up on a truck there and send it to UlaanBaatar and I would fly? Over and over again I asked myself the same questions. I’d left Hovd which didn’t appear to have any facilities and I was about half way between the two towns so I decided to press on. At this stage the traffic had completely dried up, it was hours since I’d seen anyone and I wondered if I hadn’t gone off course again.

The rivets got worse and worse, the bike shook more and more and slowly started to fall apart. The first thing to go was the left spot light bracket which just broke off. The second was the rear mudguard which snapped off with the shaking. The third thing to happen was the plastic brace which sits around the shock started to rub into the back tire. The splint which I’d put the right hand gaurd into; which I broke on the previous day broke away and my panniers were shaking loose, especially the right one which had borne the brunt of the impact from the day before.

The thing causing all the problems was the rivets, if it was smooth sand I’d have been fine but with no rear shock we were shaking to bits. When the coil around the shock started rubbing off the tire I said ok that’s it, you can’t go any further. You have to pull in and wait for a truck.

Over and out
Oisin
 
Oisin, its an amazing read, please do keep posting when you can. The film footage are an added bonus to your report, adds a whole new depth to the your journey.

Its good to see you back ..... :thumb2

Keep going, Have a safe journey.
 
An example of the Big O's Mongolian prose at its literacy finest!!!

Oisin said:
With no traffic or people around you just drop the tweeds a little off the track and let her rip......I pointed the ring in the same direction the gale was blowing and fertilized a good acre of the Mongolian desert. Although unlike Yak crap, this you couldn’t use in the fire.
Click to expand...


Hope you get you bike sorted :thumb2

Keep her lite big man..your a legend:aidan

Bob
 
Nippy Normans supply Touratech, Wunderlich, Desert Fox and many other makes of accessories.
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