Diesel and dust

When Andy May drove from Russia to China in the Paris-Beijing rally, he encountered camels, cows and goldfish in toilets, and wildlife of the two-legged variety.

May 2008

On January 31, 1907, 21 years after the car was invented and 13 years after the first car race took place, the French newspaper Le Matin issued this challenge on the front page: “Will anyone agree to go, this summer from Paris to Beijing by motor car?” The aim was to establish the superiority of the car over the horse by getting people to drive over 100 times the distance of the first car race, often without helpful things such as roads.

The spirit of adventure was strong enough for 62 drivers and mechanics to sign up. But as the departure date for China (bad weather forced the race to commence in Beijing and conclude in Paris) grew closer, numbers dwindled to 11 people and five cars, ranging in power from 6hp to 40hp.

The winning car was a 40hp Italian Itala driven by Italy’s Prince Scipione Borghese, who took 62 days, arriving three weeks before the other cars, despite taking detours en route to attend functions in his honour. Ninety-nine years on, in November 2006, Mercedes-Benz re-created the drive in the longest-ever diesel marathon. Thirty-six diesel E-Class saloons clocked up more than half a million kilometres. More than 360 drivers from 35 countries took part in the 14,000km drive through nine countries to demonstrate the diesels’ reliability and fuel consumption. Amongst the Mercs, there was a Parisian taxi and a taxi from Stuttgart, Germany, with running meters. If you took a taxi from Paris to Beijing, it’d set you back €40,000! I joined the rally in Russia for the 6,500km drive to China.

Day 1: Frankfurt - Yekaterinburg

Yes, the place I hate the most on Earth ruined my day: Frankfurt Airport. After setting off the airport metal detector, I thought I was going to be forced to strip naked before being allowed to fly to Russia. But the real adventure started in Yekaterinburg as we were herded into a small, overheated bus, with Russian rap videos. The music was awful but every clip included a half-dressed woman. At 5am, it’s an eye-opener.

We were taken through downtown Yekaterinburg to the border between Europe and Asia. In Yekaterinburg, a mixture of snow and dirt from building sites and emissions means that the cars all look pretty much the same – dirty and unidentifiable. Bizarrely, the guide showed us the Yekaterinburg Ikea. Apparently, the locals are very proud of it.

On the way to the border we passed an ex-concentration camp, where people were sent for just about anything. Serious criminals were given comparatively cushy jobs in the kitchens while political prisoners did hard labour.

Dinner was traditional Russian, Georgian and Uzbek food. We walked there via streets where potholes and cover-less manholes could send you plummeting into the abyss. Nevertheless, the food was worth it and we dangerously walk back in the cold to the warm hotel bar. Vodka? Well, when in Rome…

Day 2: Yekaterinburg

Yekaterinburg, at the heart of Russia’s economic revival, was named after the wife of Peter the Great in 1723. This city is known for its violent past. In 1918 the last Tsar Nicholai Romanov was murdered with his family in the basement of a house which was replaced with a cathedral in 2001.

Yesterday’s guide took great pleasure in describing the horrific way in which the Tsar and his family were killed. There was good and bad news for the females – they survived attempts to shoot them because of jewellery hidden in their corsets. The bad news is that their killers, who never came to trial and died of old age, finished the job with sharp sticks, which took a half an hour.

Tsar Nicholai was hated in Russia for his inability to change workers conditions. I’ll tell his story to my boss next time I ask for a pay rise.
Today this city, known until 1991 as Sverdlovsk (one of the suggestions for a new name after the Tsar’s murder was ‘Revengeburg’), has a population of 1.5 million and unemployment is just one per cent. I’m not sure what the men do but much of the hard labour, such as roadwork, is done by women.

Anna, our proud guide for today, mentions the Guinness Book of Records at every opportunity. Indeed, “glorious” Yekaterinburg (for Anna, everything here is ‘glorious’) was once recognised for having the smallest Metro with just one line, but adding a seventh station erased that one from the record books.

The Ouralmash machine factory, completed in 1933, boasts three world records including the longest crane arm (100m). The factory, which produced frames for T34 tanks during WWII, is enormous and gloomy, although one journalist told me it was almost identical to Italy’s Lamborghini plant. Originally 50,000 people were employed here but this is down to 15,000.

The locals are also proud of Boris Yeltsin – he was born close to the city, and spent a significant part of his life studying and working there and before he died, he’d return each year to open a volleyball tournament.

Although Russians love vodka, Heineken alone has a total of 10 breweries in Russia, the latest acquisition being in Yekaterinburg. The fact that the beer is often sold in plastic bottles was surprising, but after tasting seven different types nobody cared.

The driving here is erratic – that should make for a fun trip to Kazakhstan tomorrow. People wait for the city’s trams in the carriageway with nothing between them and the cars that fly past. Virtually nobody wears a seatbelt and 35,000 people are killed in car accidents every year. Discussions with the police and authorities have taken place, but once they understood that the police would have to belt up too, laughter filled the room.

Day 3: Yekaterinburg – Kostanai

Today, it was a seven-and-a-half hour drive to Kostanai, Kazakhstan. When I set out on the Russian motorway my fears were confirmed. When a lane closure forces a diversion, there is a small sign and that’s it – nothing to separate the traffic hurtling by. Of course, it’s not enough of a challenge for the locals, who then add dogs and near-fatal overtaking manoeuvres as well. I nearly had two canines to scrape off the road and take as a gift for the Chinese next week.

We amused ourselves at the Russia/Kazakhstan border by sharing pictures of cows licking cars. If all you know of Kazakhstan is from Borat, look it up. It’s a massive 2.7 million km². With better roads than Russia and friendly people. One policeman asked when René Metge would come past. René won the Paris-Dakar race on a number of occasions and he’s on the tour in a G-Class. A small group of locals waited hours to have a quick chat with him.

Many drivers have yet to discover the benefits of headlights at night. We came across three combine harvesters on the road to Kostanai this evening. Although the main cab was lit, the machinery at the front of the vehicles was not – and it was very wide. So wide in fact, that half of my side of the road was covered by an evil metal construction. That was a close call.

As there is a one-hour time difference between Russia and Kazakhstan the night drew in earlier so although we were treated to a beautiful scene of yellow fields and majestic pylons, we were deprived of the sights of Kostanai.

One dinner hosted by the Mayor of Kostanai and a few vodkas later I’m back in my room (which is the size of my apartment) and ready for the 700 km drive to the Kazakh capital Astana in the morning.

Day 4: Kostanai – Astana

Anyone who has seen Borat will tell you Kazakhstan is a country of poverty, whose national sports include shooting dogs, disco, archery and rape. Nothing could be further from the truth. This country of 15 million people has one of the richest deposits of raw materials in the world. Indeed, almost half of the more inexpensive mineral deposits could be found in my pungent, brown shower water this morning.

The 700km journey from Kostanai was on smooth roads. Those that have not been rebuilt are already under construction. However, there is the odd crater-like pothole to test your reflexes or break your spine. Without our trusty GPS, we’d have been lost because it all looks the same. Drop someone anywhere in Kazakhstan and they’ll see endless straw-coloured fields and giant electricity pylons that look like they have been copied from Space Invaders.

Off the beaten track, encounters with chickens, cows and horses on the road are compulsory. And driving down 45° mud slopes in a luxury limo is fun.
Now when people flash their lights at your car, you assume that either a speed trap is ahead or you’re doing something wrong. When they also sound their horn you really start to wonder. But it’s just families waving. In Kazakhstan they are genuinely pleased to see you.

When we arrived at the police checkpoint near Astana we were personally welcomed and given a police escort to the hotel, arriving like rock stars! The locals must have thought that we were either VIPs or criminals.

Astana is possibly one of the world’s youngest capital city. Formerly known as Akmolinsk, Astana (the Kazakh word for ‘capital’) took over from Almaty in 1997. It is said to be the second coldest city in the world and temperature fluctuations of up to 80 degrees are possible.

The Peace Pyramid is one example of the ongoing modernisation - 62 metres in height, it was designed by Sir Normal Foster and represents the peaceful coexistence among religions. Approximately 47 per cent of Kazakhstan’s population are Muslim, while 44 per cent are Russian Orthodox. Given their friendliness, I can imagine that Kazakhs can peacefully coexist with anyone.

Day 5: Astana – Balkhash

The 8:30am lie-in was very welcome, as were the beans on toast at breakfast. Mind you the “Keep Sun” toaster lived up to its name - it was about as quick as leaving the bread in the sun to toast itself. Ten am saw another police convoy, this time through the new part of the city.

Modern interpretations of the Whitehouse, the Arc de Triomphe and the FIFA World Cup trophy are just some of the highlights. Anyone who has listened to Borat’s description of Kazakhstan would be overwhelmed.

The elevated road to Balkhash is dangerous, not only because of the locals driving like they’d drunk a litre of vodka and hotwired a Ferrari. Two cars lay in the ditch outside Astana, presumably after a head-on collision, and presumably with no survivors.

Once again the view was straight roads, fields and electricity pylons, but this time with a few mountains. We passed a couple of industrial towns with factories that sent thick black smoke into the beautiful blue sky. Again, the oncoming cars greeted us with waving, horns and flashing headlights. Everywhere we stopped people came up and wanted to take our photo and give us vodka. One entire whole group (ever seen eight people in a Lada before?) stank of vodka. Well, not all of them, maybe just the driver. By now, I was getting sick of the six CDs we had on board. Nothing against Johnny Cash, but when “Ring of Fire” is played 18 times a day, you want to rip your toenails out with pliers and hammer nails into your head.

We had another police escort for the last few kilometres into Balkhash, this time with a siren so we felt really important. When we got to the Cultural Centre, we had our 15 minutes of fame. We must have signed a hundred autographs.Trying to explain to children in a foreign language that you’re not important is difficult, so you just go with it and get an insight into the rock star lifestyle. Now all I need is a hotel room to trash.
We were paired off with guest families and driven in a sauna-on-wheels along a pot-holed road in the middle of nowhere to the shores of Lake Balkhash, the only lake in the world that’s part saltwater and part freshwater. Shame we won’t see it in daylight, although the road was scary enough in the dark, so it’s probably just as well…

Day 6: Balkhash – Almaty

Like a Kazakhstani Sesame Street, V is again for vodka – I’m sure it’s the first word uttered by babies here. Everyone had the same story – they were taken home last night after a huge dinner, fed another huge dinner, and gallons of vodka. One photographer was fed two glasses for breakfast!

So what do you do on a 10-hour drive to Almaty, apart from admire the huge turquoise lake, stop every two minutes to let the annoying photographer snap your car in front of a statue/tree/rusty train/fish seller/ lake/animal/puddle, listen to Johnny Cash for the 318th time or listen to Italians discussing nail varnish on the CB radio? Simple – you concentrate on the road. Kazakhstan’s safety campaign is roadside gravestones with the wrecks in which the occupants died. Many of the gravestones and memorials have photographs. Seeing faces matched with twisted cars is sobering.

The old joke of why the chicken crossed the road came to mind, but when horses, sheep, cows and camels crossed as well, I had problems trying to adapt it, so ultimately gave up. Camels are incredibly majestic and graceful. They’re also pretty chilled-out. When a guy on a motorbike rounded them up they ignored him for a while then meandered into the path of Beijing-bound Mercs. Besides, they’d probably do more damage to us than we to them.

So, after 10 frustrating hours, we arrived in Almaty, the former capital. Over a million people live in this city, in the shadow of the snow-capped Tian Shan mountains. Darkness and loons with no headlights prevented me from seeing much, but tomorrow is a free day before China. But first comes two things my body has been craving all day (no, not that…) – I’ve had beer, now sleep!

Day 7: Almaty

Sunrise over Almaty is beautiful with snow-capped mountains glistening in the sun. Except I was asleep when it happened. The mountains are home to rare animals such as the snow leopard, which features on statues. Almaty (Kazakh for “plenty of apples”) was founded in 1854 and is now the economic centre of the country. It is also the gambling centre with more than 100 casinos.

We were taken on a surreal tour of the city by a man who heavy-breathed into the mic. Slightly overweight and cheerful, with a Beavis & Butthead laugh, he was, er, not the sort of bloke you’d ask to look after your kids.

We were prisoners in the hot bus with no escape from the 650dB commentary. He inexplicably switched into French at times but did come out with some gems: “We will visit some other holes later”, “There was a woman and a man – the woman was the mother”, “Be back at the bus in 20 minutes – it will depart in 15” and my favourite: “We invented the whale”.

In Almaty BMWs, Mercedes and Porsches are commonplace. The money is there – it’s just the distribution of this wealth that results in 19 per cent of people living below the poverty line.

Downtown Almaty is full of brand names, and even the traditional symbol of western culture is here – the Irish Pub. Lunch was in a building called 7 Treasures, named after the number of restaurants in the building, – except there were only three.

I realised why one of the national symbols is a horse with wings - it is to help it escape from hungry locals. Twice I asked what type of meat had been laid out but could never be sure. It tasted like beef anyway... The restaurant was strict - no jackets allowed on the backs of chairs and when someone asked for a beer the waiter rolled his eyes and tutted.

After the tour finished, the guide invited us to his house but instead we saw a demonstration of hunting using birds of prey, such as a 3kg eagle (the female, which hunts wolves, is 6kg) and a 15kg vulture!

Thoroughly bored of our CDs, we traded with a group who aren’t yet sick of Johnny Cash. CDs are like cigarettes in prison. Well, they look different, sound different and can’t be smoked, but you get the idea. Tomorrow: China

Day 8: Almaty – Yining

Today gave me the opportunity to show, on dirt roads, why I should have been a rally driver rather than a PR guy. Off the main highway lies a spectacular sight – a hidden 154km valley, which reaches a depth of up to 350 metres. The red sandstone Sharyn Canyon is Asia’s version of the Grand Canyon. Minus the sound of the cars, it’s a tranquil place.The policeman who accompanied us into the canyon escorted us about 100km afterwards towards the border. Nobody asked him to – he simply offered.

The cop who stopped us earlier in the day for no reason studied our letter from the President’s office before realising that trying to fine us for doing nothing wrong would be unwise. In Russia, a letter with President Putin’s seal of approval frustrated police who were trying to extort money. These documents are not entitlements to break the law. They are merely letters to say who we are, what we are doing and that they will be executed by the President himself if they decide to con us out of cash. Or something like that.

The border turned out to be a long waiting game – after four hours and a two-hour time change we were given another police escort to the hotel, 85km away. Watching a police car with 70 vehicles in tow was a major event, and almost everyone came out of their houses to watch. Our late arrival into China was a disappointment – over 1000 people had been waiting to welcome us on the other side. Despite our midnight arrival at the hotel, a huge buffet dinner was laid on for us, which we devoured.

Day 9: Yining – Urumqi

After another late night I was asleep before my head hit the pillow – and awake again immediately after. It was like sleeping on concrete, but I was too tired to care.

I was in the car with two of my countrymen for today’s 688km drive – and just as well – with the amount of stunning scenery it would have taken us hours to get anywhere if I still had that pesky photographer with me. The journey through the Tian Shan mountains was nothing short of spectacular.
The mountains stretch 2,500 km through China, Kazakhstan, Kyrgystan and Tajikistan and cover an area of 1,036,000 square kilometres. I constantly have to download my photos to make space on the memory stick, as there is so much to see. After a stop at a crystal clear lake, we descended through a sea of cloud into the scrubby Dzungarian Basin, a place with many similarities to Kazakhstan. It’s home to the wolverine, sable, snow leopard and the Dzungarian dwarf hamster. I’ve no idea what the latter is but hamsters aren’t huge in the first place. And shouldn’t it be a ‘vertically challenged rodent’?

Urumqi is, according to beardy geography types, the most remote city from any sea in the world, which is a bummer if you like sailing or building sandcastles. One gala dinner, some traditional singing that shattered every window in China, and several drinks later it’s time for my two hours sleep.

Day 10: Urumqi – Hami

The Taklamakan is, with an area of 360,000 square kilometres, the second biggest sand desert in the world – about the same size as Germany. It’s easy to see why this place was known as the “place of no return”. Activity in this area increased following the discovery of oil and natural gas reserves, but otherwise it’s mostly uninhabited.

An almost lunar landscape merges into the desert. Here in the Turfan Depression temperatures can reach 50°C in the shade. Less than 17mm of rain falls here each year so water conservation is vital, particularly as Turfan, the second lowest point on earth, is China’s hottest, driest city. The 250,000 residents have an age-old solution – for over 2000 years melted snow from the mountains has been channelled into an underground irrigation system. This system, known as a Karez, is 5000km long and provides water for agriculture – most notably for the region’s famous vineyards and sultanas.

Our discussion in the Team UK car was happiness – are the locals here happier than us, despite the clear difference in wealth? It’s often a cruel fight for survival, but in my experience some of the poorest people are not only some of the friendliest, but also some of the happiest (and vice-versa). There is a line in the song, ‘Sit Down’, by James which says: “if I hadn’t seen such riches I could live with being poor”. There is a great deal of truth in those words.

So, onwards past the Huoyan Shang, the Flaming Mountains named by the Uyghurs after their fiery sandstone red glow, towards Hami, a city known for its melons, which can weigh up to 15kg. Another 600km bites the dust, and we are left with what feels like 600 tonnes of the stuff in Car 23. That’ll teach us to leave the doors open in the desert.

Day 11: Hami – Jiayuguan

Imagine the ad in the paper: Wanted – experienced decorators to paint marker stones and white lines on very long road in the middle of the desert. Must be willing to travel long distances and be hit by the occasional truck. Package includes free surgical mask and as much dust as you can eat.

The lines do not stop, nor do the road signs. Imagine driving your truck half way along the Silk Road and finding a sign prohibiting vehicles over 20 tonnes. You’d be gutted – that is, if you cared about regulations. Most of the trucks must have been way over the limit.

Following yesterday’s deep discussions today’s topics ranged from grave-robbing to squirting babies with sulphuric acid. It must be something in the dry desert air that warps people’s minds. A detour through isolated villages provided us with an insight into the lives of rural communities in China. Again we met hundreds of smiling people when we stopped for photos in front of a pagoda. The children smile as though they have never experienced hardship.

The last section of today’s route to Jiayuguan was a brand new stretch of motorway; the road was complete but the crash barriers were being added. The workers wore no reflective clothing and bits of concrete littered the overtaking lane. A lane closure was marked by a bollard, or a large piece of concrete. Trucks, cars and donkey carts were to be seen driving up the wrong way of the motorway. And when darkness fell, no lights were used. After all, what fun is it when you can see cars approaching at high speed?

Life is cheap here but with an endless supply of labour an investment in safety seems pointless to employers. If one person dies painting lines on the road there are hundreds to replace them. Yet the people seem happy.

Day 12: Jiayuguan – Lanzhou

China isn’t known for careful observance of copyright laws, as I found out. I spotted “Future Cola” - a red can with white writing, identical to that of Coca-Cola. The second was what I would refer to as a design fault – the design was good but the engineering lacked substance. Imagine, if you will a typical shower. The floor is sloped at an angle to ensure optimal drainage. Now imagine a designer seeing that and not fully understanding it. At the hotel in Hami, I was not the only one who flooded the bathroom and watched their hotel slippers sail away from them.

A short stop at Jiayuguan castle for a group photo seemed a lot colder than -5°C. The fortification, built from 1372 is the western starting point of the famous Great Wall of China. At times, 30,000 soldiers were stationed in the 33,500 square metre complex. By day it is spectacular – by night the drama is somewhat reduced by the fairy-lights which outline each wall.

Only parts of the Great Wall remain, and it was one such part we visited on the 800km drive to Lanznhou today. It’s hard to imagine how the wall must have looked several centuries ago, but being there was an experience. The car, which performed perfectly for 6,500km, finally got a flat tyre. Chris, my co-pilot, and I were stranded on a bridge in the middle of nowhere with a Chinese couple, who helped by watching and giggling. Finally, when the car was jacked up and the wheel nuts were being loosened, one of the film crews turned up. Did they give us a hand? No, they took photos. Cheers, guys.

As it got dark, road safey again took a back seat. Sure, the Chinese are trying with signs such as “Do not drive tiredly”, but the police car didn’t bat an eyelid when cars, trucks and buses had not bothered with the lights. A cyclist, dressed in dark clothes, with no lights, was nearly wedged in our grille.
Our late arrival in Lanzhou was greeted with relief. Lanzhou is the capital of the Gansu province, and home to 1.4 million people on the famous Yellow River. This, the second longest river in China, at a length of 4,845km, stretches all the way from the Tibetan Highland, through the Gobi desert, to the northerly great plain. I’ve done my driving for the trip, but tomorrow I will see the city. Sure I’ll miss driving, but not half as much as I will miss the road signs. My favourite was “FORBID TO CHUCK JETSAM”.

Day 13: Lanzhou

Waking up in a different city each day is even stranger when a goldfish is staring at you from the bedside table. Goldfish are said to bring luck, so every room is equipped with one. Not even the toilet is spared – a bowl on the top of the bin contains two. The toilets are the luckiest place in the hotel.

Today we crossed the Sun Yason Bridge and climbed what seemed like a million steps up the White Pagoda mountain. Although I didn’t see a white pagoda, there were a series of traditional red ornate structures. The most breathtaking feature was the view over Lanzhou. This city of 3 million, where the average monthly income is €65 and an 50 square metre apartment costs €60 per month, was, during the old trading days, cut off from the other side of the Yellow River. The solution? Surely you’ve thought, while eating lamb: Hmm, if I buy a dozen sheep, kill them, skin them, eat the meat and ditch the bones, I could inflate the skin and attach it to a few branches to make a boat. Yes, that’s how they got across – a bloated sheepskin raft.

Walking round downtown Lanzhou you get that city feeling again. Although it’s totally different to Russia, one thing took the journey full circle – missing manhole covers. I’m sure, scrambling around beneath the pavements, there are hundreds of people, who disappeared mid-conversation, never to be seen again.
The cars are lined up outside the hotel, ready for an early departure. Alas, tomorrow sees the return to normality. No freezing in Russia, no standing with a foot in each continent, no signing autographs or staring out over Lake Balkhash, no driving through deserts like a rally legend, and no changing wheels at the Great Wall of China. Do I have to go back to work?