Gobi Desert
Final Stretch
On day seven we rode a measly 10 kilometres before we found another truck willing to take all the way to Ulaanbaatar, still some 400 kilometres away.
The driver had been more eager to accept us than his passenger. By the time we hit the sealed road at Choir I understood why: the passenger was the one who had to hide whenever we passed a traffic police checkpoint.
As we happily sped along scenery changing from banded autumnal colours to mottled swathes to jagged mountains, he would lie behind us under an old doona to give the appearance of only three people in the cabin.
And so we arrived in Ulaanbaatar some hours later, fast-travelling people smugglers.
On day seven we rode a measly 10 kilometres before we found another truck willing to take all the way to Ulaanbaatar, still some 400 kilometres away.
The driver had been more eager to accept us than his passenger. By the time we hit the sealed road at Choir I understood why: the passenger was the one who had to hide whenever we passed a traffic police checkpoint.
As we happily sped along scenery changing from banded autumnal colours to mottled swathes to jagged mountains, he would lie behind us under an old doona to give the appearance of only three people in the cabin.
And so we arrived in Ulaanbaatar some hours later, fast-travelling people smugglers.
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