Following the many responses to previous entries, this post has been given a guidance rating; it contains direct references to ridiculous ginger neck-beard that most people should find disturbing.

The Japanese leg of the expedition has always had a strange status in our plans, since it`s the only country we are visiting solely for logistical reasons.  As the expedition has gone on though, its status has risen as we`ve dreamed of the food, the unique culture, and crucially because of the silly agreement we made in Kazakhstan not to shave until we reached Japanese soil.

Well, we made it, and the clippers were unpacked very swiftly, but in what future historians will call the great shaving disaster of 2008, they didn`t work on Japanese voltage.  Hair levels in northern Japan remained dangerously elevated.

A break in the rain

This additional trauma may have helped focus our minds on our goal though – we needed to get to Nagoya in four days, the main highways are expensive toll roads and Japan is a deceptively long country.  So we drove.  It`s a testament to just how much amazing stuff we`ve seen that on a drive through half of Japan we didn`t get particularly excited by much of the scenery.  There are beautiful forested mountains running all the way down the spine of the islands, but there is so much human impact: concrete retainers to stop landslides, concrete barriers off the coast, and of course towns clinging to every inhabitable spot.  It`s a product of necessity, with such a high-density population living on islands at such risk from typhoons and earthquakes, but the impression is of a country fighting nature rather than living with it.

Japanese seaside

Repairs over breakfast

We found a good beach to camp on one night and spent a few hours playing in the sea, but apart from that and a little bit of car maintenance (we’ve worn down the rear brake pads and made a bit of a mess of one of the discs) we didn’t pause for long anywhere.  It would have been nice to explore a bit, but it rained for most of the journey so we didn’t mind being in the car!

Pete delves into a paddy field after a terrible throw in a game of Flop (rules to follow)

We arrived in Nagoya on schedule, and with the timing we seem to be blessed with were whisked straight to Obon celebrations (one of the main Japanese festivals).  We chatted to our host Steve and his family, then delighted the locals with our attempts at traditional dance!

The next day we finally fulfilled our dreams and proudly rejoined the civilised world of beardlessness.  Pete seemed to lose half his head!

Before and after… (the moustache was shortlived)

Spike’s moustache lasted a little longer…

…while Pete went from hair-hero to zero

We`re currently being put up by Steve and enjoying his amazing hospitality while we arrange the shipping and make plans for Canada, as well as addressing the sorry state of our budget!  It seems a very different expedition to much of what went before, and we’re facing new challenges; it’s exciting!

- David

Playing on the iPod: `Don’t let the Man Get You Down’ by Fatboy Slim

We had some warning before we left home that in order to get into Japan our vehicle would need to be clean.  I guess if you`ve seen any of our recent posts you`ll realise that we haven`t exactly been keeping Roxy sparkling.

Worked out what it is?…the rear number plate of course

We found the ferry company easily, and apart from the price being somewhat higher than our expectations (this seems to be a recurring theme!) everything went smoothly, so we set off to get clean.

The outside was easy; we opted for a car wash to let their pressure hose do the work.  The inside was always going to be a mission though, so we parked by a river, emptied everything out and scrubbed until the sun set on us.

Spot the difference!  Roxy before and after

The ferry left early in the morning, and showing great faith in our abilities the friendly chap from the ferry company met us to guide us through the registration and boarding process.  It`s a good job he did – the Russian bureaucracy really excelled itself, and I`m not sure our level of Russian would have understood that an entire form was voided by a tick in a cross box.  We all got aboard though, with grand ideas of catching up on sleep, only to be told immediately by the Japanese staff that our vehicle wouldn`t have a hope of passing the inspection.  They would let us use their pressure hoses, but they envisaged a big job, so we had to start as soon as we left port – so much for that sleep.

And cleaning again

In the end we got her clean enough with a good few hours remaining, so got to enjoy the Japanese style ferry where instead of seats you get floor space and blankets.  The staff set about the process of registering the vehicle whilst still on the ferry, and when we docked everything moved with an efficiency we hadn’t seen for a while, but we still expected to be in for the long haul since we’d rejected the recommended Carnet de Passage (a document allowing temporary import of vehicles) as too expensive.

We underestimated the officials though, the message had clearly gone out from the ferry that we weren’t carrying a Carnet, and so the temporary importation documents were ready for us to fill out.  Within half an hour we were out with the vehicle getting the customs inspection and everything was going spectacularly well.  Then they asked where our Japanese licence plates were.  We stared blankly back.

It appears that you need temporary Japanese plates in order to drive in Japan, but somehow I`d failed to pick up on this vital piece of information during our preparations.  The helpful port officials started making phone calls to see if we could still get them, while I called Steve at Japan Car Exports to ask him if we could get around it.  Within an alarmingly short space of time both parties were looking into prices for loading us onto a train to Nagoya, it seemed there wasn`t a work-around.  We haven`t got this far relying solely on our good looks though, so we worked on persuading the port officials that we didn`t need the plates.  Some clearly wanted to help, others were more sceptical, but when we mentioned an email exchange with people in Tokyo giving us the green light everything changed.

Tokyo?  Well if Tokyo says it`s ok…  A few more phone calls and we were cleared to go.  The whole process had still been quicker than all our border crossings since the EU.

- David

Playing on the iPod: `The Hurricane’ by Bob Dylan

We headed north along the coast with the Tata Strait on our left and the mountains of Sakhalin rising high above our road to the right. The scenery was stunning and we stopped to have a swim in sea. As night fell we headed to the beach once more to find a camp. Instead, after driving Roxy along the foreshore for a few kilometres I found some really soft sand which stopped her in her tracks, leaning considerably to seaward, with the tide rising.

There was a big rock not far away and it should’ve been a fairly straight forward winching exercise. However sometime between Mongolia and Sakhalin our Landy appears to have rewired herself. The winch switch now controls the spotlights on the roof rack and nothing seemed to switch on the winch. Our expert electrician, Pete, figured out a work around which involved him holding the winch wires directly onto the battery whilst they sparked slightly. We pulled her out before the tide got to her and headed to a mosquito-infested forest instead for a camp.

Sakhalin is a beautiful island, largely untouched by humans. However it is clearly Russia. The towns are mostly wooden shacks, surrounded by large piles of concrete and massive rusting industrial machines. In ones of these towns the next day we asked for directions across the island. The Russian, in army fatigues of course, shouted directions back but warned us that the track was tough with “high water levels” and that up in the mountains there was no rule of law. No challenge for Roxy and us. We enjoyed a terrific drive up winding bumpy tracks covering Roxy in a thick layer of mud.

At the town in the middle of the island we stopped for cash and fuel. However the bank connection was broken we had to wait in the bank car park for some time. We did what I think any good British expedition would do and cracked out the stove and got a brew going. The cashier looked entirely un-bemused when we turned up at her window with mugs of tea when the connection was finally re-established.

We then set off to find the exact point the 50th Parallel hit the Pacific Ocean, having been warned that the bridges were down and the going would be tough with the recent rainfall. We headed eastwards and the going was fairly similar to the Land Rover Experience in the Malvern Hills – twisty hilly tracks with plenty of mud and water. After several river crossing and not a single wrong turn we found ourselves on a misty, windswept beach approaching the line. As we pulled into camp we saw a small bear running off the beach into the woods! It was the first time any of us had seen a bear in the wild and we were pretty chuffed, especially as it was right on the 50th.

I had a quick swim in the Pacific despite the inclement weather and then we set up camp. To celebrate reaching the Pacific we cracked open a bottle of Champagne we bought in the Champagne region when we passed through it 3 months ago. After all that time in the back of a very bumpy Land Rover it was pretty eager to get out of the bottle but we managed to enjoy a mugful each (champagne flutes definitely wouldn’t have survived the journey) without spilling a drop. We had a great night with a few bottles of beer and talked about all the incidents that had occurred as we’d crossed both the European and Asian continents.

The next day I awoke first and headed down to the river that flowed into the Pacific exactly on the 50th. It turned out that it was absolutely chock full of salmon heading upriver to spawn. We rapidly fashioned fishing spears out of drift wood and stood in the freezing river trying to catch a big salmon. It wasn’t hard – there were so many of them they kept hitting into your legs – and if you couldn’t be bothered to catch one you could simply pick one up that had been recently washed up on the beach.

Whilst I filleted the 7 big salmon, up to 2 foot long each, Pete got a fire going with the damp driftwood using his excellent bush skills. And about a litre of petrol. We cooked them in a variety of methods but grilled slowly on a forked stick was my favourite.

The others went off for a drive around the muddy tracks but it took them two hours and two winchings to get off the beach. Pete managed to find a big log hidden in the grass as he did so, and added to the dents and scratches he`d put on the driver`s side in the Gobi! That night we had spiced Salmon and chaptis. MMMmmmmm!

We got up early the next day to see the sunrise over the Pacific. The colours were absolutely stunning and it was well worth pulling ourselves out of warm sleeping bags. We packed up and got off the beach, significantly quicker this time, and headed back through the mountains, with a few terrific river crossings on the way which Roxy ate up with ease.

We drove down to the south of Sakhalin to find a ferry to Japan. The drive took all day and the scenery was out of this world the whole way. Sakhalin is very much like Jurassic Park with lush mountains and bizarrely outsized vegetation, but we haven`t spotted a T-Rex yet. We camped up just outside the port of Korsakov ready to find a boat the next day.

- Spike

Playing on the iPod: “Road to Nowhere” by Talking Heads

Sorry for the slight absence but we have run out of satellites to talk to out here.

After an uneventful night outside Khabarovsk we headed in to town early to try and find some nice cowboys to mend our roofrack.

Starry night

Quite quickly we found a guy who knew a guy and followed him to a car wash. It turned out that they had a welder but then everyone out here seems to be packing some kind of heavy duty metal mangeling equipment. None the less we found our welder and after three hours fighting to get the thing on and off the roof we finaly left with a sixty pound bill and a roof rack that had twice as much metal on it than it had that morning. After a quick resupply we headed out of the city, taking bets on whether the welding would hold beyond dinner.

Cowboy welding!

After a quick nights sleep under some amazing stars we headed off towards Vanino, a port that, according to our map was only served by a railway. As it turned out the map makers had missed a major road, and we had covered the 600km by 18.00.

One of the sturdy wooden bridges

Now for the interesting part, we had to get on to a ferry to somewhere that most people we had spoken to have told us we cant go. Somehow in a petrol station we met a guy who also happened to be leaving on the morning ferry and we happy to take us to the ticket office and help us get sorted. So, as they seem to, things worked out and we where on the ferry at 08.00 the next morning (despite being told the 04.00 boarding time, i have had better nights sleep).

“Sakhalin 8″

From the car we took a few things to pass the 5 hour voyage and headed to our cabin. As it turns out Sakhalin is quite a long way from the main land and the crossing was 18 hours. I spent the whole time concentrating on not being sick while Spike managed to get us invited to someones house for some beers when we landed. For the last half an hour of the crossing I managed to muster a bit of man-up and we all watched the beautiful out line of the island materialise. When we landed our passports where taken off us and returned after about an hour with no explaination, but all seemed good so we headed off for beer.

The port of Kholmsk, Sakhalin

Gazing at the Sakhalin skyline

Alexander is the first mate on an Ice breaker and has all summer off so we enjoyed a great night learning russian and then crashed on his floor saving us one night of camping. The next morning, with Spike and I feeling a little delicate and Dave dead in the back we headed off up the coast to find the 50th again. We are all really looking forward to this part of the trip. Sakhalin is mostly an untouched wilderness, and there are very few roads and certainly none out to the Pacific coast near the 50th, but hey that is what Roxy is for. Now over to Spike for the next few days, stay tuned.

There’s a Chinese curse that says ‘may you live in interesting times’; we’d written off this section of our journey through Siberia as likely to be uneventful, but as we skirted round the top of China it appeared we’ve been cursed.

The road around the northern bump of China is very much a work in progress, with sections of fantastic new tarmac interspersed with long stretches of bone-shaking gravel.  This doesn’t seem to stop huge numbers of Japanese cars being driven back from Japan along this route to be sold on in Moscow or wherever, they must lose so much value on the way.  We were on one of these bumpy parts when the problems with Roxy’s turbo surfaced again and we lost all power.  This time however, a wire needed to be resoldered, and since our soldering iron works off the mains, we got a fire going.  Whilst we were doing this a motorbike pulled over beside us, we mustered our best ‘dobriy dyen’ and were a little surprised when a broad Yorkshire accent replied “Just stopped for a brew then?”.  Simon was on his way home (the scenic way) after teaching English in Japan, we obliged and brewed up some tea (Earl Grey courtesy of G4 – fantastic!) and had a chat while somehow we managed to solder our wire back in place.  This done, we bade farewell and continued making miles through the endless forested hills.

Field Workshop

I imagine that, like me, most of your ideas of Siberia begin and end with ‘cold’. We’re seeing it at the height of summer though, and despite having some of our worst weather yet we’re still having glorious warm sunny spells. The colours when the sun comes out are almost too green, almost too blue, and look like they should belong on a Windows start-up screen. Sadly the clouds came in force around the time of the solar eclipse, so we don’t even know if we would have been able to see anything!

Shortly after the eclipse time our next incident occurred; we were heading into some woods to camp when Roxy came to a crunching halt.  The tree stump had been well concealed beneath deep undergrowth, but it was a vicious one and Roxy came to rest with all her weight on the steering rod, bending it dramatically and leaving the front wheels pointing in quite different directions. We eventually freed her from the stump’s evil clutches around midnight and set alarms for an early start to try and straighten it out and be able to drive again.

Trying to Free Roxy

Still Trying to Free Roxy

First up stepped the lump hammer, but despite being wielded with great enthusiasm it couldn’t touch the dent. While we came up with other ideas we did a rough and ready mend of the coolant pipe, which had sprung a leak – we do like to collect our problems, the roof rack’s broken again too. But back to the steering rod, we passed our Bush Mechanics 101 by jacking the vehicle up on the rod and letting gravity do the rest – it’s pretty near straight again now.

Jacking the Steering Straight

Apart from the roof rack, which we’re discussing around the fire now, and the relentless attention of mosquitoes, that’s all for problems at the minute! To finish I’ll mention a nice little meeting this afternoon; we’ve noticed people tend to be friendlier at this end of Russia, and this was a good example. We’d pulled over for a photo, and a huge lorry travelling the other way stopped, a man and his son came over to see who we were (we get lots of looks, I don’t think many British cars come out here!). After a stilted chat they got a photo of us, then when we thought they’d gone the boy came running back over and gave us a little fluffy toy monkey which is now hanging proudly in our window.

We’ve stopped tonight in the Jewish Autonomous Region, which I don’t know much about, but sounds like it’s had quite an interesting history.  Tomorrow we’ll stop in Khabarovsk for supplies and maybe see to the roof rack before pushing on towards Sakhalin and the Pacific.

Police stop count: 26 (one very jolly and one very grumpy today!)

Playing on the iPod: ‘Me and My Monkey’ by Robbie Williams

Starry Siberian Nights

Beautiful Baikal

Waking up to the sound of waves crashing on the beach was really nice, and we had a great morning doing nothing chilling on the beach. If we got thirsty at all during the day all you had to do was dip your cup in the lake and have a drink. It is strange to be able to drink straight from a body of water that looks like an ocean. Somewhat reluctantly we paked up and left early afternoon to make camp to the east of Ulan-Ude. Since then we have spent two days driving and have made 700 miles east. This is our first serious driving session for a long time and it feels quite good. The only slight problem is the continued loss of turbo pressure, but it comes and goes and so we can easily live with it.

Siberian Camping

Now we are back in Russia we have talked a lot about what we thought of Mongolia. As a comparison Siberia is lovely, there are huge rolling valleys full of trees and rivers, but Mongolia is just cleaner somehow. It was just a stunning pristine country with amazing people and an interesting culture.

We would all love to go back (and hopefully will G4 willing). A little note on something that we found funny – in several places in UB the history books had been rewritten and the Irish had discovered the orient, commemorated by places bearing the name Marc O’Polo.

Well next stop is Sakhalin and the Pacific, let’s hope Roxy and her turbo will get us there.

- Pete

Playing on the iPod: ‘A Thousand Trees’ by The Stereophonics

Attractive Petrol Stations