Ivan the Terrible
Trip Start
May 16, 2005
1
15
50
Trip End
Nov 01, 2006
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Moron, Mongolia
Monday, July 11, 2005
said for our lucky escape, thoughts turned to our
onward travel arrangements. We decided that it would
be best to spend a couple of days relaxing at Lake
Hovsgol where we could formulate a plan for the
remainder of our visit. However, our Mongolian
friends viewed our near-death experience as a minor
incident and had already begun the hunt for a new
driver. Quite where or how they found him we will
never know and quite frankly, blissful ignorance is
probably infinitely better than the truth. So it was
but 24 hours after the crash that we were introduced
to our potential new driver. It was agreed that we
should check the vehicle to make certain that all our
kit would fit in his vehicle. The jeep in question
was a Russian-made Uaz, which we were reliably
informed was the best vehicle for the harsh roads that
awaited us. They also assured us that the new
chauffeur was a driver of great experience and skill.
It all sounded so promising.....
In walked a middle-aged man dressed in the same style
as a stereotypical grandpa - sandals (with socks),
flat cap, cardigan and corduroy trousers. We were
introduced to a man who's name began with a B but we
couldn't quite figure it out. This wasn't to prove
much of a problem as before long he was to be
christened with a very fitting name - Ivan. Our
initial journeys with him went well and although his
diving was faster than we had envisaged, he appeared
to be a sensible sort. However this was all to change
on our return journey from Hovsgol. Hovsgol is
situated high in the mountains and the only way to
access it is up a steep dirt road. Heavily loaded
under-powered Russian jeeps cannot ascend up this road
at any great pace. On the return journey, down this
steep dirt track, we got our first glimpse of the
inner-maniac lurking below Ivan's geriatric facade.
Free-wheeling down a steep dirt track, the back end of
the car sliding sideways with every bend, the only way
to describe it is totally terrifying. It just didn't
occur to him that the car was fully loaded (five
people and totally rammed full of kit) and was
therefore prone to skidding and rolling.
Over the next 10 days, Ivan proved himself to be an
abysmal driver, showing scant concern for the safety
of himself or others. I cannot possibly begin to
detail all the incidents of that unfolded but suffice
to say that every time we got into the car, we were
terrified. He played chicken with other cars,
eventually forcing them off the road, he examined his
teeth using the rear view mirror, he talked on his
mobile phone when there was any reception, he
continually turned to Chukka in the passenger seat and
engaged him in lengthy conversations and paid no
attention to the road in front of him. But these were
the minor faults in comparison with his real passion -
staring out of his side-window at nothing in
particular. Many drivers occasionally glance out of a
side window - not Ivan. He would continually stare
out of the window at the countryside or other cars.
But these were not brief glances, think more prolonged
stares of 5-10 seconds. On many occasions he failed
to slow down in time for corners or bumps in the road
simply cause he was not looking where he was going.
On one very wet day, he insisted on driving across the
wet grass and not on the gravel road, which would have
at least offered some grip. The car spun sideways on
several occasions and he was totally out of control
for much of the journey. He had the most amazingly
arrogant attitude towards driving. Drivers in
Mongolia are much revered in Mongolia and therefore
consider themselves infallible - Ivan clearly
considered himself to be the best driver on Mongolian
soil. We asked him on numerous occasions to slow down
but the message just didn't appear to be getting
across. One evening we asked Chukka if he had told
Ivan about the crash and explained that we were still
slightly uneasy about Mongolian roads. Chukka's own
pride had clearly got in the way of the truth as he
said he had not explained to Ivan that he had rolled
the Land Rover and hospitalised his dad.
Ivan didn't real care if we enjoyed ourselves or not.
He didn't like driving any further than he had too.
On one occasion, we wanted to camp further up river
than his suggested spot (next to the main road and a
couple of small shacks). He came out with all sorts
of reasons why this was going to be difficult - mud,
flies etc. Eventually we managed to get him to take
up slightly further up the river where we came across
an ideal camping spot. After setting up camp, it
became obvious why Ivan didn't want to go any further
- he wanted to spend the night at his friend's house
who lived in the village near the main road.
On the way back to Ulaan Baatur, the sight of paved
roads should have brought a great sense of relief. It
wasn't to be for Ivan had one final trick up his
sleeve. Instead of driving with all four wheels on
the tarmac as most normal being do, Ivan choose to
drive along with the right side of the vehicle on the
mud at the side of the road. This coupled with the
adverse camber of the road meant it felt like we were
literally falling off the side of the road.
Sometimes, he decided to dispense with the tarmac all
together and drive through the grass instead. If we
were lucky enough to be on the road for any length of
time, he would continually execute last-minute violent
swerves to miss tiny potholes. The back-end of the
car was see-sawing all over the place the whole way
back to UB. After numerous close calls, we eventually
made it back to UB. Unsurprisingly, there was no fond
farewell to Ivan. Study his pictures carefully and if
you are ever fortunate enough to travel to Mongolia,
NEVER EVER GET IN A CAR WITH THIS MAN!
