At the last gas station in town we filled the bikes to the brim and set about cutting the 20 feet of tangled wire from Lisa’s rear wheel. It had got caught during yesterdays ride south and need to be cut with the Leatherman before it threw Lisa from the bike. There was enough of it to jam the back wheel if her luck ran out. She’d been lucky that it hadn’t already done that yesterday!

Sticking our heads out of the tent bought gasp’s of “wow”.

Well, it’s been a good but frustrating few days and pretty awful for Lisa. The morning after we arrived, Lisa woke feeling ill, sick, nauseous with severe stomach cramps. A bad case of food poisning.

My relief was tangible as I watched Lisa climb onto her bike with a grin and the first dust cloud kick up from her rear tyre as it hit the dry dirt outside DZ. The 5-miles of tar out to the airport had been a nice start to the day before things got…technical. 500 metres off the tar and Lisa had already pulled over. U-turning and pulling up at her side my first concern was that she’d over done it and her health had let her down. She was fine.

We’d hoped to reach the dunes today, well that was the plan. Our first goal had been to reach Bayandalay, a short 27-mile to the west. The dirt track had gone and an hour later we’d ropped back into the river bed, Low jagged mountains and dak cliff faces lined the way. As the river bed twisted though another gorge we needed our wits about us. 4X4’s barreling down here, turning at speed had cut deep channels into the bed, deep enough to scrape the bottom of our panniers and on two occasions they did. We eventually learnt to tackle this at speed, riding the edge of the channel and letting the bank sling shot us around the obstacle. After a while it got easier and yeah…it does make you feel pretty cool. Right up until you realize that you’re on a 320kg machine and you need to stop fast before you plough into the rock pile ahead.

Checking our fuel levels in Bayandalay we pushed on, we didn’t need gas. The flat open landscape around Bayandalay changed into wider plains of yellow scrub, until the mountains again hemmed us in from both sides. I’d marked a GPS point at the larger dunes and had been watching the compass heading for 45- minutes and wasn’t happy. I’d been sure we’d taken the right track out of town, but now I had my doubts. I’d kept waiting for the track to turn more North west. It didn’t happen. We’d taken a north turn and followed a barely visible line of wear through the scrub, which eventually fizzled out again on the flanks of a mountain range. I was pretty sure it was the range we’d been looking for, unfortunately I was equally as sure that we need to be on the easterly side of the range. Shit, shit, shit!!!!!

We needed to u-turn and head all the way back to Bayandalay, where we knew for sure the track to the dunes began. This was going to cost us time and gas.

Back in town and we found the small sinlge pump gas station and handing over 64,000 tug filled up with 80 octane. Outside of the major towns 80 oct is all there is and it’s expensive. But take a look around, remember where you are and you quickly realize why. Moving anything here in Mongolia is tough.

Heading North west out of town we did our best to follow the mish mash ot tracks, each time swapping if we saw a track with more wear and tear, that was heading in the right direction. Two long mountain ranges now hemmed us in from both sides, channeling us north west. As dusk settled the light turned orange. A thick line of cloud sat above the range to our west, like a fluffy collar reflecting the pinks of the setting sun. The long shadow from the range reaching out to us. We rode closer to the flanks of the easterly range, like earlier it didn’t feel right, but also like earlier I’d hoped that the single width track that we’d now been following would turn west and towards the dunes. As the rocks and strewn boulders increased so did my concern. Shit two miss-directions in a day and we were stil 60 miles from the dunes we’d hoped to camp at. Pulled over at the side we’d spoken with a locall family in a broken down Russian jeep and after checking they were OK and had water confirmed we needed to U-turn. A short 5-miles later and we could see the track to the right, we’d missed earlier. It crossed a deeper gully and soft shale, wed been so focused on getting over this stuff we’d missed the larger track we should have taken.

We needed to get a move and so picking up the speed we took the gamble of a bad fall and pushed on. By 7:30pm we’d been riding in each others dust for long enough and had to conceed that we weren’t going to make it today. We’d passed a sign confirming we were now in the Gobi Gurvansaikhan national park. Goats and livestock meandered across our path and in the distance small white gers dot the landscape. Suddenly it didn’t matter that we weren’t going to make the dunes. The views and experience of just being here more than made up for it. The mountains around were lit as the shafts of sun light split the low lying cloud and the top of the mountains to the west.

Pulling up just 30 feet from the main piste we slid off our helmets, turned off the bikes and just watched the day slowly slide out in a display that can only be called majestic. Tired as I was I knew this was going to make some great photos and so after a little coaxing with Lisa I pulled out the camera and got some great shots of Lisa and her bike. The light was incredible. Have a look at the photos, I hope you agree.

With the torch hung from my handlebars Lisa cooked a pasta with the left over crèam and two cans of tuna. Inside the tent we eagerly flicked through the photos on the digital cameras before giving way to drooping eye lids. We camped at GPS: N43 38.904 E102 53.208

Passed our camp the piste twists and turns, diving into and out of 20-30 gullies and water channels that have cut into the landscape as the snow melts and the run off pours down the mountains ranges to find the valleys low point. 2-miles to our left we can see the start of the dunes. Bright yellow, low and patchy, growing in size and width all the time as we travel north.

By mid morning we’d pulled over, grabbed the cameras and were taking snap shots of these incredible mountains of sand, whilst a herd of camels graze in the foreground. We were like excited school kids. Anyone that came to our presentations in the USA has heard me say we’re always impressed by wildlife, we’re English, our wildlife consists of pigeons and rain soaked sheep.

30-minutes later and we’d ridden farther north and detoured to the base of the largest dune we’d seen. It was just too sodding tempting and so wearing a grin the size of Mars I followed Lisa into the sand, much to the amusement of 4 locals, who’d stopped to sip water from their goat stomach water bladders. I could hear whoops of excitement over Lisa’s engine as she slid and revved her bike in the thick soft sand. We were still fully laden and the tyres still harder than they should have been. Turning was getting harder the further into the dunes we travelled. After a couple of fun drops we knew we’d gone far enough and headed back out to the firmer ground. We then spent 20 minutes doing our best to convince the locals that we weren’t completely barking mad. We took a bunch of photos, of the guys sat on the bikes and each time showed them the results. Unlike South America, not once did they ask for money, just to see the photos was enough.

At GPS: N43 46.495 E102 20.307 we pulled into the Gobi Explorers ger camp. It was the end of the season they had no guests, we’d hoped to stay overnight and get cleaned up but after the delays of the last few days we were now pushing it for time if we were to get out of Mongolia before our visa’s expires. Running over the visa here is taken seriously with a fine of $1,000 per person. At the camp a couple of Nescafe’s and two bottles of coke seemed to do the trick and by mid afternoon we doned our now filthy bike kit and were heading off.

As Lisa sped out of sight my heart sank. Something’s not right. The front end of the bike was feeling awfully ‘squishy’. The temptation to ignore it was huge, but I knew better. Off the bike my fears were confirmed, the front tyre was as flat as the proverbial pancake. With Lisa back with me it took us all of 30 seconds to find two long slices in the side wall. Pulling out the puncture repair kit things got worse. The extra strong special rubber glue I’d bought in the USA had punctured and exposed to the air had completey hardened. We made a plan.

With Lisa staying with my bike, I then rode her’s back the the ger camp, and talked a passing local guy in another Russian 4x4 into lending a hand. We’d already checked his puncture kit and glue. Back with Lisa we set about pulling the front wheel and removing the tyre. Repairing the slices was going to be suspect but with both of the slices patched from the inside we then decided to pul the tubeless valve and inserted the spare heavy duty 21” tube we’d been carrying. The entire excerise had cost an hour and a half. In the searing heat of the day, we’d not drunk any water and were now both paying the price in terms of enrgy and concentration.

By the end of the day the landscape had changed to rolling hills, the dunes had disappeared and we’d ridden 72 miles, it felt more like 700 as we set up camp in the neck of a small vale. We’d hoped to reach the 3 Camel Lodge and get a wash, it’ll have to wait.

As we set up camp we snatched glances to the south west the sky seemingly on fire, ruby blood red. The kind of colour that you see in photos and presume is photoshoped. This was for real and inspite of our fatigue…inspiring.

OK, that’s it I’m too tired to write anymore.

Night, night.

We left the camp this morning and found the going tough, the main piste corrugated from the hundereds of 4x4’s that trolley the adventure seeking tourist around and down to the dunes. We’d reached the 3 Camel Lodge (at GPS: N43 53.603 E103 44.435) and bulked at the idea of $150 for the night. It’s an American owned luxury Ger camp, nice but way out of our price range. Fuck we can’t even afford a price range these days ?. We choose the cheapest thing on the menu slowly sipped two beers and headed off. Seven miles north of the camp and whilst I filmed Lisa ride a soft stretch, her bike swerved, hit a thick bank and threw her off. And yes I got the whole thing on film. She was fine but winded. Her front tyre was looking worrying. A puncture had deflated her tube fast and between that and the soft tall bank of sand had stripped her front tyre off the rim.

I was now using every curse word I could think of in every language I knew and when I ran out of those I’m pretty sure I made some up. After yesterdays puncture we hoped to reach the next town where I could get some repair glue, I still had nothing. We endedup pulling the tyre and rim from the 650, strapping the lot to my bike and I then rode back to the lodge and set about enlisting the help of 3, 4x4 drivers who’d stopped for lunch with their wealthy US tourists. On pulling the tube I was pretty angry to see the expensive ‘heavy duty’ tube was as flimsy as a ballon at a kid’s party. Even the drivers seemed surprised that it had’nt blown earlier. We found the split, made the repair and I then headed back to Lisa and refitted. It was late afternoon. Lisa had said that not a single vehicle had passed her in the 2-hours I’d been away. We ended up calling it quits for the day 24-miles further north east and pulled into the small ger camp to the left of the ‘Flaming Cliffs’. At GPS: N44 07.848 E103 42.171

Our luck was about to change.The food was great and the hot shower an absolute treat. After washing my hair for the 3rd time the water stopped coming off me brown. Shaved and clean for the first t ime in a while, I’d hoped to write more about today, but I’m just too tired.