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.