An unabridged dispatch from the front line of fund-raising, by the indefatigable Olly and (somewhat hors de combat) Mildred follows! Out of jail and back on the road, our intrepid duo have teamed up with Antipodean fellow travellers to tackle the last punishing miles of the Mongol Rally. Over to you Olly!
” Hey Everyone!Having finally been kicked out of Uzbekistan (I have a REALLY cool stamp to prove it!), we pushed up north of Tashkent and headed for Almaty, where the other two Aussies (Sam and Zach) were waiting for us. The first night
was epic, camping in the middle of the desert, with wild horses and bleating goats for company. The tinned food tasted wonderful and we all slept really well, everybody just so glad to be out and back on the road. We reached Almaty the next day, finding Sam and Zach in the middle of a shopping mall.
We headed up north to the Russian border (an 1100 km leg), with Semey in our sights. We camped on the shores of a lake, Mildred getting stuck in the sand a few times. It really is very liberating being free from Uzbek bureaucracy!
We got up super early the next day and completed a good morning drive, starting to climb up into the mountains. We met up with Geoff, who had finally made it out of Kyrgyzstan, only to get into Kazakhstan and see his motorbike engine rip itself apart as a piston disintegrated. $450 down the line and his engine re-build was nearing completion. We arrived, only to find out that his Russian visa was running out on the 4th sept. He was contemplating making a 1900 km run for it to Mongolia but we dissuaded him. He has now headed back to Bishkek to try and get a new Russian visa, a tall order!
Mildred suffered a bad suspension failure today on the potholed roads of Kazakstan. As the sun was setting, having already done 610kms today, I just didn’t see the 100th man sized one and careered straight into it. A few bone-jarring seconds later and Mildred emerged, her front left wheel shuddering. We limped into the nearest town and I have been at the mechanics since 6pm. The problems are apparently all fixed now; one shock absorber and ball bearing later. We will see tomorrow if they have…
We hope to make Russia tomorrow (heading for Barnaul). My Russian visa situation is becoming precarious and I will need to make a decision as to whether I can get to Mongolia in time to turn and run to Belarus (and the safety of Fortress Europa) in time for the 18th sept.
I will keep you all posted as and when I can find wifi.
Olly – and a heavily bandaged Mildred.”
‘Somewhere is Kazakstan’ – 4/9/14
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We are still waiting to learn the fate of VA fundraiser Olly and his trusty taxi (Mildred) – hopes of a Monday release have not been confirmed and no further messages have got through!
Thanks to BFBS their plight has been shared with the serving community – meanwhile al we can do is hope that the pair are soon free to continue their journey.
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Latest from the fundraising frontline – a FULL report from the sole remaining ‘Idiot Abroad’. Olly Cardozo, whose 11,000 mile challenge – to complete the Mongol Rally in a London Taxi to raise funds for Veterans Aid – has turned into something of an epic, takes over the narrative:
“I am now safe (I think). I’m sitting in a hotel room, ON A REAL BED (mattress on the floor, it’ll do)!
The last 48 hrs have been pretty manic and I am sure that I have spotted a few grey/white hairs poking out of my cranium. Here is an expanded replay of what has been going on.
I had a good nights sleep at a hostel in Samarkand (Uzbekistan) on the night on the 19th. Geoff (motorbiking Aussie) and I had had a really successful day in Bukhara fixing Mildred and we had driven up to Samarkand (a 4.5 hr night drive), dodging crazy drivers and blinded by headlights (the Uzbeks either don’t drive with lights on at night or have their fog lights/ full beams on). We had made it, we were safe. The other Aussie team had had their clutch plate replaced and gearbox repaired and were going to meet us that lunchtime in Samarkand, having themselves driven solidly for 22 hrs to catch up with us.
We met up, and they slept for a few hours while we worked on their car, getting new battery as theirs was flat. We left Samarkand that lunchtime to head up to Tashkent Airport to get a 4 day visa extension as 5 of the 7 of us had visas running out that day.
We had heard bad things about overstaying your visa here in Uzbek! (IF ONLY WE KNEW THEN…)
About 30kms from Tashkent, the Aussie car broke down again; it didn’t want to get into gear, and then wouldn’t start. We left the car and three team mates and continued with all the passports to the airport, (Mildred actually becoming a taxi!).
It was now nearing 6 and I was getting pretty sweaty, thinking I might just want to drop them and run for the border. But something told me that the Aussies really would be in the s**t if I left them. Again, this ‘helping others’ malarky really came home to bite me. . . .
Anyway, we got to the airport and took AGES finding the right room (It’s 201, on the second floor of the dilapidated building hidden behind the airport terminal- if ever you need to know!). In keeping with the pace of the last few days/ and Uzbekistan for that matter, our extension application was rejected and we told to leave the country asap.
WE LEGGED IT back the the Aussie car, which hadn’t moved. Two of the Aussie car team (Zack and Sam) did not have visas for Kazakhstan so we all piled into Mildred, (five of us) and towed the Aussie car (with one Aussie at the wheel) into Tashkent Airport IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EVENING TRAFFIC.
I can’t for the life of me recall how many near misses we had when small cars tried to nip into the gap between Mildred and the Aussie car, only to see that there was a tow line, (not even 3.5 metres long) barring their way. We got Sam and Zack to the terminal, left Geoff who also didn’t have a Kazakh visa but had four days left on the Uzbek one, and raced (hobbled) to the border crossing at Chernyaevka. By this stage, I was perspiring profusely as I had not filled up with diesel since Samarkand and we were well into our last 200kms of range, but with the towing, I thought that Mildred would be necking diesel like no other. However, in true British style, we spluttered into the checkpoint with an hour to spare. We were safe.
OH NO – WAIT, the Chernyaevka crossing is now only open to Uzbeks and Kazakhs! (The guidebook was out of date!).
We were told by a steely eyed border guard to “b****r” off and head down to Yallama, where we could cross. However, this border was 100 km away. We were panicking. The diesel was REALLY low. The whole way to Yallama, I was replaying the events in my head, thinking about when I should have bailed and got to Kazakhstan by myself. At least I would have been safe. This thought process, combined with the fear of running out of fuel, at midnight, in the middle of nowhere, towing a broken car, illegally present in said country, made a poisonous concoction and I can safely say that I was at the lowest point of the whole trip.
Even with Milders towing at 50 miles an hour, we arrived an hour late. To add insult to injury, we were allowed through the first three checkpoints, got out car export papers all stamped, and it was only at the last checkpoint, with Kazakhstan in sight, that we were refused entry and told to go back to Tashkent to get an exit stamp from our Embassy. I’m not going to sugar coat it, it was really crap. We kicked up a fuss and stayed in our cars at the checkpoint for four hours, having a staring contest with the guards, hoping that they would fold.
It was not to be. We headed back, tails between out legs. We decided to leave the Aussie car and Filippo (an Italian member of the Aussie team) in Yallama with a mechanic as his visa ran out on the 21st, and so was still safe for a day. Clem, Dave and I drove back to Tashkent to find the British embassy, (Clem has an Aussie and British passport, Dave an Italian and Aussie one). The Embassy offered us a phone to ring home and update family on our problems but that was it. They told us they couldn’t support us in any way or do anything but tell us to go to the Uzbek district police office and register ourselves with them and be at their mercy. We were all pretty nervous as no one could tell us what was going to happen to us. All they did was tell us that we were in real trouble.
We headed out to this police station and then, as per, all hell broke loose. Once we arrived and told them of our misdemeanour, they confiscated our passports, told us to sit down and explained that we were going to be deported. We were facing a $1600 fine and – amongst other threats – a night in the slammer followed by detention camp.
We were all pretty shocked and, while processing this information, were told that we would have to organise our accommodation without our passports or car documents, by no means an easy feat considering it’s illegal to stay in a hotel without a passport. The few hotels we rang pre-emptively either put the phone down on us or threatened to call the police. We got hold of an interpreter for $100 and tried to find out as much info about what we needed to do to leave this country. Time was passing and it was 6pm before we had got anything down on paper or got a vague idea of what we should be doing go. During this time, we were being held in a locker room, which very much resembled a cell, though the police were adamant that we were not being detained. Mmmmm!
We were all getting pretty nervous as we hadn’t contacted Filippo in Yallama all day and his visa was running out that night. I finally managed to wangle a mobile phone from one of the guards and was able to call him. I didn’t get through as his phone battery was dead (I didn’t know this at the time and it only frustrated the situation more). The other two Aussies were a bundle of nerves and were freaking out, Clem had been in floods for hours. All of Dave and Clem’s stuff was in the car in Yallama and so we needed to get there asap.
The policeman allowed us to go but kept Dave and Clem’s passports and expensive cameras as a bargaining chip. This was all getting pretty questionable but we needed to get their stuff before Filippo crossed the border into Kazakhstan so had to go. We found some diesel on the way (in some back alley with a number of dead/dying cats strewn about), and headed for Yallama still having not contacted Filippo for at least 12 hrs. We arrived at the border to find it empty. We were really worried as we thought that he would be waiting for us there. He could have crossed with all of Dave and Clem’s kit, though we thought that he would have waited until the last minute for us. It was dark and we trawled the streets of the little town trying to find him. By chance, he had headed out from a different garage to find a loo and we spotted him. The car was still in bits, but the new parts had been found. The car was not going to be ready in time.
Here, we toyed with the idea of making Filippo leave and not have to go through the drama that we had faced that day, but he wanted to stay with us. We all piled into Mildred and headed back for Tashkent with the idea to try and sleep at the British Embassy and wait for nine before heading back to the police station to meet out maker.
However, Karma finally kicked in and we were stopped at one of the many road-side checkpoints. They immediately saw my passport and stopped and questioned me. I was there for a good three hrs while a stream of policemen spoke to me. It passed midnight and Filippo was as stuck as us. We were all in the same boat now. Strange as it sounds, that thought was quite comforting. Finally, an important looking man came to sit opposite me, offered me some tea and we spoke. His English was abysmal but my world class charade skills helped me to explain the situation we were in. It took a good hour but the tea helped steady my nerves and he seemed to understand our predicament. He rang a few people and told us that we were ‘safe with him’, Hmmm. I was sceptical!
We followed him in his 4×4. It was 5am and I had not slept since Samarkand. That drive was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I genuinely thought that I was going to fall asleep at the wheel. We arrived at around 5:30-6 and were put in a cell, yes people, a cell. After 22 years of evading the law, I have finally been incarcerated. I can now tick that box.
At 8, he woke us up and told us to come to his office. He had called a translator, Saida, to help us. She was GREAT. Her English was passable but she really wanted to help us and that went a long way. The entire morning, she refused to take no for an answer and pestered all the men until someone gave way and took us to the boss man on the top floor. He was really nice and loved Chelsea FC which was great news (though he still thought that Crespo and Shevshenko were still playing for the blues). Anyway, we told him that Clem and Dave’s passport were in another building across town and we had to go there and get them to be able to centralise all our details and hopefully speed up the process. He seemed keen and let Dave, Clem and Saida leave. Filippo and I got to enjoy the cell again.
We waited for five hours for the others to return. I was pretty angry about being kept in the dark but when the bedraggled group returned, my anger vanished. They had had a torrid time. The police at the other district office hadn’t wanted to let them go. They had almost frog-marched them to a bank to get them to pay the $1600 fine. It had been a mess. Luckily, our police boss had rang the other office at this exact point and had told the others to stand down. Both offices (police chiefs) then spoke at length and came to an arrangement. Because Uzbekistan is bureaucratically ‘idiosyncratic’, we had to split our deportation processes between the twooffices. Filippo and I are in one and Dave and Clem in the other.
They have sorted us with a decent hotel ($15 a head a night), from which I am writing this email. We have all ended up paying $500 and are getting deported on Monday at the earliest. So we are holed up in this hotel, Argo style, waiting for the green light to sprint to the border. We can’t leave the hotel area, there is actually a policeman guarding us. Its pretty funny. We are paying one of the hotel workers to go to the local supermarket to get us food.
Its all going to be OK I think. All the car paperwork is also done. We just need to go and pick up the other car on our way to the border (hopefully Monday) and then we’re out. All I can say that that first beer after the Kasakh border is going to taste like nectar.
