June, Sheffield

The Mongol Rally is not about being organised and on time. It is not about being polite and staying in the most expensive hotels. It is about buying the worst car you can, eating what you find and sleeping rough. That and making the best of the worst the world can throw at you.

Jonno, my team mate, and I like to think our journey was conducted true to this spirit and I hope if you have a Mongol Rally story of your own that it was too.

A native Bradfordian, proud of his textile heritage, you could be sure to find Jonno wearing at least one piece of tweed or knitwear, often of the ‘dirty green’ or ‘mucky orange’ variety he so loved. He also wore a distinctive ginger beard which set him apart, even in Sheffield.

Jonno had already registered our team name, ‘Ey Up Genghis’, which was a little too Yorkshire for my liking. I tended to prefer ‘Genghis Khan…eh?’ but it was not a sticking point and I liked the sentiment.

Time was already tight when I got involved so I had to be sharp getting myself sorted out. We inevitably left visa applications to the night before the deadline but managed to bully and coax each other through the sizable stack, guessing our dates of arrival and fabricating hotel reservations. A few packets of biscuits later and, with the sun threatening to rise, we finally signed the last form.

After this, all we needed was a vehicle. Jonno soon found a well priced Citroën 2CV on ebay. With a new chassis and recent engine rebuild it was the perfect car. By coincidence its M.O.T. expired on the 21st July, the very day the car was to leave British territory and begin its swan song journey to the distant steppe of Outer Mongolia.

It was clearly fated so we snapped it up and quickly got very comfortable with our new car. Jonno decided we should name it and fancied Charlie. Having not had any say in our team name I was happy to veto this,

“You can’t call a beautiful, curvy French girl Charlie. She’s going to have to be Amélie or something.”

And it stuck, Amélie she would remain. On one outing we took her to show the pupils of my former primary school, ‘Lazonby C of E’. We had an entertaining afternoon talking the students through where we were planning to drive. The fact that we had very little idea ourselves did not get in the way and we got some excellent illustrations from the group. Stories of camels, distant mountains and people shooting deadly arrows from galloping horses seemed to spark the youngsters’ imaginations. It felt good to be giving the students something a bit out of the ordinary to be thinking about. As I had more often than not found school a bore, I hoped our visit might break the monotony and give the children something to remember.

Alarmingly close to the launch, we realised we were missing an essential document, the V5, proving ownership of our vehicle and its key components. It would probably be impossible to leave the EU without the document and it would definitely be impossible to import the car into Mongolia. To make matters worse the chassis number did not match the records and required an inspection.

Everyone at the DVLA assured us they could not possibly complete the paperwork in less than five months. We only had a week to go by this stage.

In a telephone marathon Jonno negotiated a plan. We could jump a queue, get the chassis inspected the following week and then be issued with a temporary V5. At the appointed time I was given a pack of printout directions from Route Planner and told to head for Doncaster to meet the inspector.

Due to a navigational error, by the time I arrived in Doncaster I had missed our appointment. There was camping equipment in the car so I emotionally reassured Jonno that I would stay put for as long as it took, feeling too ashamed to return to Sheffield without our papers.

There was no need. Simon, the man Jonno had contacted, could not have been more understanding and explained that he worked quickly and could find the time. Even so, he had to forgo his lunch break.

Simon was particularly interested in our story as he had worked in Kazakhstan, maintaining technologically advanced farm equipment that the Kazakhs had been supplied through a development initiative. He explained that it had been a constant and futile battle to keep the new machines working. In a nation of proud metalworkers and bodgers alike the local mechanics, used to keeping the crude but indestructible Soviet machinery plodding along, refused to let him do his job properly, withholding parts or insisting on fabricating parts from unsuitable materials. Admittedly, financial reasons must have been a major factor and the machines may never have been suited to the climate nor justified by any increase in productivity. Nevertheless, several hundred thousand dollars worth of equipment was quickly ruined, dismantled and its parts arranged in the sand, as if by some giant bird of prey, to bake in the sun.

With his best wishes Simon sent me back to Sheffield with our first crucial hurdle negotiated. Amélie had passed the inspection and the chassis number had been updated. The document Simon gave us would have to be delivered to another contact at the DVLA and, God willing, he would be able to supply us a temporary V5 within the week.

Rising/Falling – Always Hoping -can be bought online at Amazon.co.uk, - ordered by your local bookshop for just £8.74 (the price the team’s car was auctioned for at the end of the rally) Just note the ISBN:9780956196613 - or bought direct from the suppliers @ £10.99 (£8.74 plus £2.25 p&p) Address Cheques to Craig Chamberlain, Glovers Cottage, Lazonby, Penrith, CA10 1AJ