RTW 314559

I insisted on sleeping in the morning. I didn’t want anything to wake me up. The Brits packing up, the cows and camels, the children running around, the wind from the door left open as they were bringing in some wood… Everything wanted me to wake up but I insisted. So much that I even pretended to sleep for what appeared to be another half hour. Finally, some guests arrived and they neded a place to sit. So I had to pretend waking up…

After having some more tea in yak milk and fresh cream for breakfast, I started packing up. During the night, a cow decided to taste my bike. Some of the shiny numbers on the fairing had gone. Instead of “314559”, now it read “3 59”. As if that wasn’t enough, a little boy seemed to think that my exhaust pipes were appropriate toys to fill up with little rocks… Thanking them for their genuine hospitality, I left the place as soon as I finished packing.

I rode on the nicely paved asphalt, chasing eagles and falcons all the way. I had almost forgotten that the “worst” bit was about to come…

Then the road stopped. It stopped being a maintained asphalt and immediately became full of potholes. It looked as if had been bombarded. Other cars immediately took the side roads as I insisted in riding on the remains of the main one. The critical factor that made this road unrideable was the rain. The holes were filled with water and it was impossible to avoid all of them. Some of the ones I took were amazingly deep and the bike bottomed out many times without suspension.

I decided to try the muddy dirt roads following the other cars. But that seemed even worse. Mud acted much different than sand. When the bike slid, it was without any warning. Everything including the radiator got filled up in mud. After a few dangerous moments, I decided that the potholes were a better choice. I rode on this road for a few hours until I came across a road block. They were building a new road, but vehicles were not allowed to use the finished section. I had to go back to mud and ride on it for about 50 more kms. Indeed, it proved to be the hardest because some sections were completely flooded with rain water and heavy trucks had dug out big tire tracks inside the water.

Towards the evening, I climbed back on the pavement and reached Ulaan Baatar. I never remember being so happy about arriving in a city. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that’s as ugly as UB.

It seemed so unfriendly, that I wanted to get out of it as soon as I got back in shape. I had notified Wilbers a four days ago about the suspension, so I could pick up the new one, fit it on the bike, have a hot shower, some decent food, and hit the road again.

I spent a few hours trying to find a nice and cheap guesthouse. Most of them were full because of the rally. Interestingly I met Craig and Gale again. They had just arrived and were looking for a place to stay. But they didn’t seem like they wanted to do it together. In fact they didn’t even say goodbye as they left for the next hotel. That was the last time I saw them. It’s sad.

I went outside the city and finally found one with a garage and Internet for much cheaper than what I was quoted in the center. “A nice deal to spend a few days!” I thought to myself, not knowing that I would be staying for more than a week…