In Brugges

So the trip begins... Currently we're en route to Brugges (on the A16 if you're interested) after spending the night in Calais. It's important to note that we stayed in a hotel that struggled to attain a one star rating, Meghan stole all the coat hangers without asking, Kass and Si put their beds together and enjoyed five months worth of passion, and I was attacked by a French dog the size of a kitten while we enjoyed coffee. But before I write on further French / Belgian matters it's important that we address what occurred yesterday in the UK. I begin this writing with 233.5 miles on the trip clock...

I left Leeds at 12.25AM. The day had involved me waking in London having spent Thursday in the New Forest celebrating the wedding of one of my best friend's. I got on the train and spent the subsequent two and half hours heading up to Leeds reasoning why the hell we were doing this trip. What we were likely to expect, and imagining my own sweep stakes of how many times we were likely to break down. From about Stevenage to Doncaster, I spent my time preparing my mental and emotional state for the subsequent month of hectic's we were undoubtedly going to incur. We, as a team, are horrifically unprepared. We are driving a car that is totally unsuitable for the task of getting to the shops, let alone Mongolia. This fact was dramatically re-enforced as the day went on...

On the train I also realised that the tooth I had a hole in would probably need addressing BEFORE the trip rather than during it. I therefore spent the rest of the day finishing work at the office, packing, in meetings, one trip to the post office for an international drivers license and currency exchange, and one emergency dentist appointment (that involved, no joke, three options: 1. Leaving it. 2 Removing the tooth. 3. Putting a filling in). As the dentist wasn't exactly the most experienced, or for that matter, old (it's increasingly worrying that dentists or members of the extended medical establishment are either the same age or younger than you), the experience provided the fantastic opportunity to experience modern dentistry without the required amount of anesthesia.

To that don't know, this involved experiencing a large amount of pain (I would describe it as having your brain set on fire from the inside) and leaving the 'practice' quite nauseous. As the dentist had applied probably two or three times the actual amount of anesthesia after my brain had been set a light (almost as compensation), I spent the rest of the day feeling like my cheek had experienced a rather large stroke, and I dribbled whenever I smiled, made any sort of facial expression or tried to communicate. Considering that the subsequent few hours I had left involved one last meeting before having dinner with my girlfriend Lauren, the last remaining images of me to both my colleagues and my love were of a nervous dribbling nauseous wreck. The day also involved three different trips to the toilet in which I had to sit down. I was officially shitting it.

Setting off to London I pulled up in the capital at just after 5. We would be up to begin the trip at 8. To say the least. I was quite tired. On the bright side, my cheek had resumed it's normal shape and I no longer resembled the Hunchback of North Leeds.

Saying goodbye to anyone for an extended period of time isn't fun. Regardless of where you're going in the world you want the people going away to be safe. To our families and friends were appear to be going somewhere off the beaten track, and probably somewhere further to what I'd describe as to 'unusual holiday spots'. We also appear to be going somewhere with out much planning, clue, or chance of success. And we're cramming ourselves into a car that is designed really for two people with no luggage rather than four people with four weeks worth. Saying goodbye to your girlfriend isn't any fun, and I can only apologise to Lauren, as I'm sure Meghan is to 'not Todd', that we're doing this. But we are going to come back with every limb we left with. And we are going to come back. I'm just going to miss you so much.

Waking in London I struggled to remember who I was. We packed the car. Said goodbye to brother J and cat Frankie... And hit the road.

Each of these needs explaining in detail, but packing the car requires the most amount of information. Somehow we got everything in the car. Si and Kass have packed all their belongings into one grip bag. I've got one, as does Meghan. That's the boot after tools and car spares, gone. The roof rack has got our tent in it. Other than that, we're done. Each of the others have got a day pack which is smaller than most ladies (and some men's) hand bags. We've got a kettle hanging off the window and an invertor in the car lighter. We've got three pillows and the clothes on our backs. We've packed light. The car doesn't even look full.

Before we hit up Europe we were asked go to to Good Wood race circuit. There we would pick up my passport (as I only got back from Kosovo/ Albania/ Greece on Monday my week was fairly visa filled and the Visa Machine did an incredible job of filling it while I did nothing but nervously check me email every other minute), meet the other teams and do a lap of the circuit.

Seeing the other cars doing the trip only confirmed the suspicious-ens we already had suspected. We're all idiots. Every single one of us doing the trip. Every car is small. Every team looks under prepared. But you've never seen such wider grins. Everyone is beyond happy to be doing this. We're all doing once in a life times.

There's a lot of ambulances on the grid (known hereinafter as Ambo's), one firetruck, and lots, LOTS of small cars. Corsas, a Panda, quite a few amount of Yaris's, two Smart Cars, a really new Mini, quite a few old Minis, loads of Citrons and Peugeots, one old school WW2 Medic vehicle... We may have only been the only Ford Ka on the lot... And we may have only been the car with four people in it for it's size... But we were the same as everyone else. Really. We had less paint on our outsides, less stickers, we weren't in fancy dress. But our car held up against everything else. In fact, with the amount of work that we... Kev had done our car made us realise we were in a really strong position. We were kitted out to complete this mother trucker.

True to our collective natures we were also the last people to arrive at the site. Well... other than the first Rally casualty we saw on the M25. We driven past at the high speed of the M25 (4 and half miles per hour) a Rally team of two that had crashed into the back of another car. For them, they'd have to spend the first days of the Rally getting their engine back working, and their bonnet back in shape.

So we were sat at the back of the grid, around fifty or so car in front of us. We spent a LONG time waiting to get over the start line, rev our engines, beep our horns. I also got to shake Tommy's hand (Tommy is the face of Mongol Rally... he's a bit of a legend) before Si sat on the window, put his goggles on, camera in hand and we began the race.

I've never really had the chance to race anything. Anywhere. So it was amazing to hit a race circuit, overtake aggressively as you can in a rally car laden to take you Mongolia, laugh like an idiot, and finally finish third. We nailed it. Our faces hurt from smiling so much.

Three hours later and we were waiting in Calais for the ferry. There it seemed the entire Rally had congregated. Considering a fair amount of people must have taken the tunnel, earlier ferries, and many people were starting in Europe, it makes you wonder how many people are actually going to be out at the Czech out party on Monday. It's going to get messy...

We pulled into Calais late. Had, what can only be described, as the least French food I've ever had (which was a kebah) and slept...

Trip clocks says 286.8 and we're nearly there to Brugges... Waffle time

Written by Matt