Bargain

Day 40: Guilin (CN) - Yangshuo. “Two people, two bags. 30 Yuan. No more”, Karen insisted as if she were a local. The ticket seller nodded reluctant agreement and gestured for us to put our bags in the hold as the driver started the engine of the rickety old service bus.

Travelling in China, you can't help but relax, because everything takes so long. Buying a bus ticket for example – back home the price is the price; you pay the money and off you go. Here on the other hand, this simple task can lead to a protracted and articulated negotiation, so much so that we had just spent the last 15 minutes arguing over the equivalent of £1 Cracking sport though!

Climbing the steps on to the bus, the air was heavy with stale tobacco smoke as all public transport tended to be in China. So entwined into the culture is smoking that the act of refusing a cigarette can actually be a great insult to your host – which little faux pas, I managed to commit back in Chongqing, prior to learning this little nugget of cultural etiquette. My excuse that I didn't smoke, clearly was not a good enough reason not to have cigarette and for a moment, I thought I would encounter the full wrath of the Triads!

Arriving at Yangshuo, we were mobbed by hawkers trying to entice us to the many hostels and hotels. Luckily, we stumbled on the fantastic 'West Lily Hotel' proving that the adage 'You get what you pay for' is not always true. Easily, the best accommodation we had encountered so far on our journey, and at £3 a night for an en- suite room, also the cheapest. Bargain.

Chalk & Cheese

Day 39: Wuhan (CN) – Guilin (CN). After almost 40 days into our adventure Karen and I had already learned a tremendous amount from our experiences. We had learned about travelling; learned about different people and cultures and learned about ourselves. I already knew for instance, that when our journey was over I wanted to continue living my life by the 'Travellers Philosophy', and that philosophy states “If it isn't working for you then change it and if changing it is not within your gift, then you shouldn't have been worrying about it in the first place!”. Today, proved an excellent application of our learnings.

After the frustrations of the previous day; the herding, the commercialism, the crowds and the cold we decided to change what we were doing and go back to what we knew best – travelling simply, independently and magically. Chalk & Cheese.

Chinese trains run four classes of accommodation and to help us get 'back to our travelling roots' we opted for a 'Hard Sleeper' (2nd class) ticket for the 15 hour journey down to Guilin. With this class, the carriages are arranged as an an open dormitory with about 70 bunk beds, giving us a chance to get to meet some new people on the way. We were soon taking to Lou-Lou a 25 year old Chinese lady who was making the trip south for a 'girlie' weekend with some of her colleagues from work. Seeming as genuinely interested in our story as we were in hers, one of the things she wanted to know was how my almost 6 foot frame was going to fit into the 5' 6” Chinese bunks! (the answer to that was it didn't and I slept all night with my ankles and feet hanging off the end of the bed!)

Stopping at Xianning, the station platform was awash with people trying to board a train bound for Shanghai. From our carriage window we looked across into the standard Hard Seat carriages of the train, jammed packed to overflowing – the lucky ones who had actually managed to secure one of the seats; but most people standing;, animals, birds in cages; it had the lot! “How long will those people have to stand like that”, inquired Karen. “To Shanghai”, Lou-Lou responded, “About 22 hours”. Never again will I complain if I can't get a seat between Kings Cross and Finsbury Park!

Gorged Out

Day 38: Wushan (CN) – Wuhan (CN). Sometimes travelling can be hard work. Even when you living your life's dream you can still get those days when you think to yourself “There has to be a better way”, For me, today was one of those days.

Since we had been in China, people had told us about the beautiful riverine panorama of the Three Gorges and having reached Wushan by passenger ship, the only way that we now could find to view the Yangzi River's most fabled piece of geology was by joining one of the many organised tourist trips that sailed the gorges. Not just your average tourist trip though – this was a particularly tacky tourist trip in contrast to the way we wanted to travel. This form of travelling involved being herded through the sights without time for contemplation, it meant buying souvenirs rather than taking away lifetime memories, and it meant noise and crowds rather than peace and tranquillity. And on top of all of this, I was cold again! Even though we were at a latitude similar to that of the Canary Islands, the temperature was only just above freezing, a cold wind was blowing and I was back to wearing my thermals and my woolly hat.

But despite my annoyance and my resulting bad mood, nothing could dilute the outright natural beauty of the Qutang, Wu and Xiling gorges. Rising dramatically into view, their cliffs jutting out in jagged and triangular chunks rising to just under 3,000 feet tall; the peaks often disappearing into the ethereal layers of mist. Even with the constant plugs to 'buy the DVD' this made for an incredible experience.

Things got a little better over dinner though and I even managed to crack a smile. Sitting with a group of Chinese people on holiday from Beijing, they were concerned as to the whereabouts of our Tour Guide. When we explained that we didn't have a guide and we had travelled independently from England they appeared quite shocked. Their perception of 'foreigners' was they only ever travel in groups and always with a tour guide!

Slow Boat

Day 37: Chongqing (CN) – Wushan (CN). For the same reasons that Karen and I had come to love travelling by train; boat travel offered the same stimulating and relaxingly adventure; the same change of perspective and pace. Only slower.

Perched on a couple of old plastic chairs just below the bridge of the Su Lie, Karen and I had the perfect vantage point to while away the morning and watch the scenery unfold as the passenger ship that was to be our home for the next couple of days, carefully navigated her way along the world's third and China's longest river. Huge modern cities, grimy towns, quaint villages, rice fields and mountain vistas, the Yangzi had them all. With the serenity and gentle motion of the ship, I closed my eyes to take a nap only to be rudely awakened by a long blast on the ships horn as another vessel crossed our bows. As with the roads in China, the rivers suffer the same levels of congestion as barges, cargo boats, passenger ships, cruise liners, pleasure craft and traditional fishing boats all vie for position.

As the boat meandered it's path along the river we made shore at Fengdu. As with the rest of China we were warmly welcomed, although as the only westerners aboard, we continued to provide a source of entertainment to the locals.

Taking our opportunity on dry land to browse the market stalls, Karen's eye was caught by a rather fetching cashmere jumper. Disappointed by the fact she didn't have it in Karen's size, the trader disappeared for a few minutes only to return with the same oversized jumper but this time with a different label denoting the size sown into it! Whether you call that superb customer service, opportunism or fraud – you've got to admire it.

Hotpot

Day 36: Xi'an (CN) – Chongqing (CN). “Are you hot enough now?”, Karen enquired. Unable to speak, I simply nodded; beads of perspiration dripping from my brow, my eyes watering from the heat. But the source of my discomfort wasn't due to any meteorological phenomenon, it was down to our choice of lunch – Chongqing Hotpot; quite simply the spiciest dish I had every tasted!

Travelling through the night on the sleeper train from Xi'an, we awoke thoroughly refreshed after an excellent nights sleep thanks to the marvellous service provided on the Chinese trains; punctual, clean, inexpensive and efficient. Pulling the curtains back from the window, the sun streamed into our compartment and we gazed out on a very different China from the one that we had left in Xi'an. This was the China of high mountains, terraced rice fields, palm trees and small villages. Stunningly beautiful.

Arriving in Chongqing, we met up with a guy named 'John'', recommended to us by the hostel in Xi'an. He had managed to secure us a passage on a Chinese passenger ship, going as far as Yichang - 400 miles downstream on the mighty Yangzi River. From there we should be able to get a bus to Wuhan taking us in to the heart of the Hubei province.

So with the boat not sailing until much later that evening we had the whole day to acquaint ourselves with Chongqing, and in particular it's famous fiery dish that had caused me so much discomfort. Born on the banks of the Yangzi, Chongqing Hotpot was originally eaten by poor boatmen and is similar to a fondue only the cooking broth is heavily laced with fresh whole chillies and Sichuan spices. Such is the heat of this dish that we as 'soft westerners' were advised to dip our food in an infusion of sesame oils and garlic to take some of the heat out. Even with our 'wimps' cop out, the flavour of this food was mouth numbingly, eye wateringly, tongue blisteringly hot and so I shudder to think what the heat would be like if you opted for eating it the 'hard' Sichuan way!

Identity Parade

Day 35: Xi'an (CN). “Oh, for a moment I thought those two were the same”, I said, trying to feign disappointment, “But if you look very closely, that ones moustache is slightly longer then the other ones and his hair is brushed a little differently”. I had to concede defeat: The archaeologists were right. There were 8,000 life size Terracotta Warriors stood before us and each one one had been lovingly crafted to be unique. Each one had its own individual facial expression – you could even say its own personality. Absolutely unbelievable!

It was my birthday, and this was the best birthday present I could ever have wished for. The opportunity to see first hand the remarkable excavations that had been uncovered in the eastern outer suburbs of Xi'an. Started in 246 BC, the army was crafted for, and buried with the the First Emperor of Qin to help him rule another empire in the afterlife. It is said that a workforce of some 700,000 worked on the construction of Qin's mausoleum over a period of about 35 years, many of which were executed and buried alongside the emperor so that their secrets would never be told.

Just like our visit to the Great Wall a few days previously, nothing could have prepared us for these sights. Sure, we'd seen the pictures in books and on the TV before we arrived, but it was the sheer scale of these sights that was really knocking our socks off.

In keeping with the day's theme, dinner and drinks were at the Park Qin, a Terracotta Army themed bar where a Chinese version of Eric Clapton belted out 'Wonderful Tonight' in between the piped Country & Western music whilst we were looked over by life-size terracotta statues wearing beanies, shades and sporting wispy beards. I know what you're thinking...but in a strange kind of way, it actually seemed to work (or maybe I had just had one too many birthday beers!) As 'Eric' took a break, I caught up with my emails and was completely overwhelmed by the kind words and birthday wishes I had received from our friends all over the world. And then I got to thinking – if only those people could have been with us that evening – then it would have been the best birthday ever imaginable.

So guys, if anyone fancies a Chinese - I know a super place, just off the South Gate. If you could join us, it really would be Wonderful Tonight!

Day 35: Total Mileage to Date: 9,171: Number of Time Zones Crossed: 9; Number of Countries Visited: 8; Number of Transport Modes Used: 17, Maximum Temperature Encountered: +15C, Minimum Temperature Encountered: -32C.

Travelling Dilemmas

Day 34: Xi'an (CN). In the days before Karen and I decided to place our careers on hold to enhance our quality of life and to fulfil our travelling dreams, I used to be a successful manager for a major international retailer. One of the things I used to preach to my team was the premise that 'the only bad decisions they could was to not make a decision'. And here I sat – hesitating, floundering, procrastinating! I just didn't know what to do next.

Karen and I were chilling out on the well worn but comfortable sofas of the excellent Shuyan Hostel. Having made the move south to Xi'an in the search of warmer weather we were now trying to work out where to go next and had enlisted the help of some of our fellow travellers: “Go to Chengdu – you'll be able to hike the mountains to see the panda's”, one of our friends suggested. “No, Lhasa's were it's at – you can ride the highest railway on earth – 5,000 meters up!”, said another. “I wouldn't bother with that – Lijiangs is the place for travellers – head for the province of Yannan”, added a third.

The truth of the matter is China is such a massive country. You can quite easily travel this spectacular, culturally diverse country for a year or so and still end up wanting to see more. With all the opportunities that lay before us, we were in danger of falling in to our old habits and manically racing around to cover as much territory as possible. Fortunately Karen pulled us back from the brink, “Don't forget it's about quality not quantity”, she said with a smile. Of course she was right – this trip was about taking time to understand the people and the culture and we could only do that if we took it nice and easy.

At that moment, I also remembered David's 2nd law of management: 'If you're unsure of what to do – trust your gut instinct'. Earlier in our travels, Karen and I had talked of following a route through China that meandered around a line we had drew on the map connecting Beijing to Hanoi. So that would be our route. This time around there would be no pandas, no mountain railways and no travellers Mecca. But it didn't really matter. From what we had seen of China so far every bit was amazing - every town a fascinating experience, every person a source of enlightenment.

Karen shifted around on the sofa to face the travel desk. “We've decided now”, she said to the incredibly patient JieJie. “Two soft sleepers on the overnight train to Chongquing on Monday. Bottom bunks if you can get them, please”.

Wobble over. Our travelling plans were back on track.

Southbound Again

Day 33: Beijing (CN) - Xi'an (CN). “Have you noticed, I seem to be wearing the same clothes in every single photograph”, Karen said, flicking through the pictures on the digital camera. To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it, but Karen was absolutely right: Every time you saw us we were decked out in the same outdoor coat, fleece, thick trousers, scarf, hat & boots – and it had been like that since Poland; that was the last place we encountered temperatures above freezing.

The experiences that we had gained in the cold of Siberia and Mongolia would stay with us for a lifetime, but right now, after a month of sub zero temperatures we just wanted to be a little warmer. To be able to put on a pair of jeans, to wear a pair of trainers maybe, and to have just one day where we no longer had to wear our thermals - would be sheer bliss!

Thumbing through the pages of the Lonely Planet guide, it seemed Xi'an would be our best bet. It was 750 miles further south of Beijing, but we could get there by overnight express sleeper train and googling the weather forecast, we could expect 12 degree temperatures over the next few days. Which, from what we were used to, seemed positively tropical.

Arriving at Beijing West, we were bowled over by enormity of this, one of Asia's largest railway stations. Fighting our way through the sea of people, we eventually found our train and as we climbed the steps from the platform we both took a last look at the city that had been our home for almost a week. We would miss Beijing – but right now we just needed to be warmer!

Bicycle

Day 32: Beijing (CN). In the short time that we had been in Beijing we had really grown to love the Chinese capital – from its people, to its sights to its food – it was a fascinating place to visit. But Karen and I were keen to see the real Beijing, the Beijing behind the 'must-see' tourist sights and the shopping-mall glitz. We wanted to explore the city's Hutong (neighbourhoods) that criss-crossed the city, linking together and forming a huge, enchanted warren of single-storey, ramshackle dwellings and historic courtyard homes. And when you're in Beijing, the only way to do that is hire a bicycle and join in with the city's 8 million other cyclists!

Cycling in Beijing isn't quite as nerve racking as you might think. Sure, you do have to have your wits about you with so may vehicles of every description competing for each inch of road space; but with the city as flat as a chessboard and ample bicycle lanes it really was a great way to get around this sprawling metropolis.

The day's bright sunshine wasn't only perfect for cycling – The locals were taking to Beijing's parks in their thousands, making the most of the fine weather and practising their Tai Chi, Bai Dai and Poi. Stopping by Jingshan Park to take in the fantastic panoramic views of the city, Karen and I were warmly welcomed and actively encouraged to get involved.

The park with its hilltop temples and botanical gardens provided an excellent opportunity to seek sanctuary from the noise and pace of city living, where throughout the park inspirational messages are posted to facilitate the search for inner calm. On one sign we read the words “Be Careful People - The Pathways can be Steep and the Road in between is Always Slippery”. Karen and I tried to decide whether this was a public service notice warning of the condition of the park's pavements or some deep philosophical message hinting at the difficulties of achieving ultimate enlightenment. Oh well, whatever!

Sweet & Sour

Day 31: Beijing (CN). “Confucius say 'Never do long walk with stinking hangover!'”, I joked as we scaled the steep incline. I think my attempt at humour had been lost on Karen as she ignored me and continued to trudge through the deep snow. In keeping with the Chinese theme it felt very much like a very 'Sweet & Sour ' day.

The sweetness was our location – Hiking the Great Wall of China from Simatai to Jinshanling – and in doing so fulfilling one of our lifelong ambitions to visit one of mankind's greatest construction projects. The statistics are mind blowing: The wall is 4,160 miles long, 25 feet high and 15 feet wide – enough bricks were used to circle the earth at the equator with a wall 4 feet high and 3 feet wide . It is estimated that during the Qin Dynasty, 70% of China's population were working on the wall (of which it is said that 3 million died doing so). At it's peak in the Ming Dynasty, the wall was guarded by more than a million soldiers. But the guidebooks and the statistics don't give you the true feeling of this magnificent spectacle. They don't describe the hostile mountainous terrain through which the wall snakes on it's way from Shanhaiguan in the east to Lop Nur in the west. They don't give you a feel of the steepness of the ramparts, some of which Karen and I had to scale on all fours just to make progress. And they certainly don't give you a feel for the awesome beauty of this place, particularly as we found it, covered in a mantle of snow.

The sourness though was our pounding heads. The previous night we had met up with fellow travellers, Dan and Ali for a 'few drinks' and as so often happens on these occasions, those 'few drinks' turned in to a 'let's try and drink China dry' session. Amongst other drinks, we consumed pints of luminous green beer and pints of luminous yellow beer which, because of my state of inebriation, I can't even remember whether I liked or not! The effects of the alcohol combined with a total of four hours sleep was making a difficult hike into an extremely difficult hike.

With my 43rd birthday just a few days away, one of the vagaries of life that I really wanted to understand right now was at what point in my 'maturity' I would learn about the effect of over doing it. Oh well, until then, perhaps I should curl up in this nice cosy watchtower...!

Life's Good

Day 30: Beijing (CN). We were very happy with the way things were going. We had settled in to the travelling mentality fairly well, the money seemed to be lasting OK and most importantly, we were enjoying ourselves.

Beijing was always going to be a decision point. Before we set off, back in mid January, Karen and I had agreed to use our visit to the Chinese capital as a time for reflection: Was the trip delivering what we both wanted it to? Would we be able to face another train journey? Would we be missing home too much? In between our sightseeing and the 'I'm a Celebrity – Get Me Out of Here' food challenges, we had been using the time to ponder these questions. “It feels like a 'no-brainer to me”, Karen said excitedly as we reviewed the flight options on Expedia. “Everything back at home is OK, we're not spending as much as we budgeted and you and me are still talking”, she added with a smile. And with a couple of clicks it was done: We had changed our return flights and extended our adventure into May.

And that wasn't the only change we made that day: I had a makeover: Firstly, the day had come at last for me to have a shave as my beard had been driving me mad for sometime now. Not a trivial task though – it took Karen and me 40 minutes, three razors, a pair of scissors and the 6 inch blade from our Swiss Army knife to remove it. The result? A face as smooth as a babies bottom and one blocked sink (Ooops!). Secondly, I found a little Chinese barber who gave me a haircut, wash and blow dry, for the princely sum of just 5 Yuan (about 50p). And thirdly, I went shopping for some more underpants. After a clever bit of bartering down at the local market, I ended up in a unique position having more pants than I started the journey with. Life's Good!!

Tourists

Day 29: Beijing (CN). “I'm all 'templed' out”, Karen said exhaustedly. “Likewise”, I replied, “...and I think I'm gonna need another memory card for my camera!”

It was starting to get dark and a few flakes of snow were starting to fall marking the end to a cold, grey day in Beijing. Our legs were aching from the days sightseeing exertions but as we walked wearily towards Tiatandongmen subway station, we still had the energy to muster up a few more superlatives as we remembered the amazing sights that we had visited in China's capital city. Sub zero temperatures had kept us on the move for most of the day – but that was OK, as it enabled us to cover some of Beijing's most famous attraction; Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City and the Temple of Heaven; all of which, given kinder weather, could have consumed a day in their own rights. My perceptions of these sights prior to my arrival in Beijing was so much smaller that reality, China's premier square is of gargantuan proportions (the worlds largest) and words and pictures can not convey the enormity (or indeed the beauty and magnificence) of the Forbidden City, occupying three quarters of a million meters of space in central Beijing, the perimeter walls measuring three and a half kilometres long and enclosing some 9,000 rooms.

Despite Beijing's sprawl, moving around the city proved to be amazingly easy thanks in the main to Beijing's excellent public transportation system. Remembering for a moment, the difficulties Karen and I had had with the Moscow Metro just a few weeks prior, also made me realise how our own travelling skills were improving as our experiences grew. Indeed, I smiled to myself as I watched Karen purchase tickets from the automated ticketing machine without even bothering to change the language to 'English'!'

In way of sustenance at the end of the day, we stopped by Donghuamen Night Market, serving some of the best street food in town. And all so conveniently packaged too: Star fish and sea urchins - sold individually. Seahorses, centipedes, lizards and chicken hearts - by the bag. Grasshoppers, scorpions, snakes and genitalia - on sticks. Like I said a couple of days ago, “Fancy a McDonalds, anyone?”!

Two Halves

Day 28: Erlyan (CN) – Beijing (CN). “It's like trying to cross the road in Ulaanbaator”, I joked, as we emerged from the railway station. But stepping forward tentatively, trying to negotiate our way through the 'traffic', our difficulties this time weren't caused by the number of cars as they were back in Mongolia's capital but by the number of people: Thousands of them – we had finally arrived in Beijing

And the culture shock was explosive. We expected to find a ragged tableau of communist China, but instead we found ourselves in a thoroughly modern city displaying chic and commercial vibrancy (although that didn't stop us having dinner sat next to a man with a poodle on his lap dressed in a panda costume (the dog that is, not the man!) or horrifying our waitress by trying to eat our soft shell crabs with the shell still on!

Reaching China's capital represented a major landmark in our journey. Firstly, we had reached the end of our Trans Siberian adventure and in turn had reached the most Easterly point on our voyage, having crossed through 120 degrees of longitude (or a third of the way around the circumference of the earth). From now on our direction would change and we would be generally travelling in a Southerly direction, until we were within 10 degrees of the equator. Secondly, we had completed the major travelling phase of our journey and (hopefully) escaped the bitter penetrating cold of Central Asia. From now on our travelling pace would be much more leisurely and relaxed. And thirdly, we no longer had any plans or schedules to keep. From Beijing we had no idea of how we were going to get to Bangkok - we were just gong to make it up as we went along.

Having covered two thirds of our journey in one third of the time we were now in the second half of our adventure. (who says I wasn't any good at maths!!)

Day 28: Total Mileage to Date: 8,154: Number of Time Zones Crossed: 9; Number of Countries Visited: 8; Number of Transport Modes Used: 15, Maximum Temperature Encountered: +8C, Minimum Temperature Encountered: -32C.

Disneyland

Day 27: Ulaanbaator (MNG) – Erlyan (CN). Amy Lee's haunting voice built to a crescendo as the band kicked in for the last few bars of 'My Immortal'. Listening to my mp3 player, the warm afternoon sunshine filtered through the window of the train making me feel a little drowsy but I resisted the temptation to close my eyes, preferring instead to remain fixated on the remarkable panorama that lay before me. The music of Evanescence provided the perfect backing track to this endless expanse of wilderness and I just starred in wonder at the beauty of the Gobi Desert.

We were on the move again; aboard the 08:04 Trans-Mongolia Express to Beijing, a journey of about 18 hours. With the train speeding through the heartland of Mongolia, devouring mountains, pastures and deserts, we gained a real sense of how isolated and sparsely populated the countryside of this enormous country really was. In the ten hours from us leaving the nations capital to the sun setting beyond the horizon we couldn't have seen more than 50 people.

With the memories of the Russian border crossing still fresh in our minds, Karen and I were a little apprehensive as towards midnight, we approached the southern fringes of Mongolia. But thanks to a Chinese desire to upstage everybody else along the Trans Mongolian railway the formalities for entry into China were not just easy but actually quite entertaining, in a 'Disneyland' kind of way! As the train inched toward the little border station of Erlyan, we were greeted with the sounds of the Vienna Waltz, Auld Lang Syne and the Theme from Titanic blaring from the tannoy system – so loud in fact that the waiting customs officials had their hands firmly pressed over their ears to prevent their eardrums from exploding (or was it to restrict the grating sound of Celine Dion's voice?). Fairy lights around the station and enough neon to cover the Magic Kingdom added to this surreal image. But the border guards were courteous and efficient and after another change of bogies to align with the Chinese railway network, we were on our way again.

Our only disappointment of the day was the lack of 'Character Breakfast' opportunities in the dining car! M, I, C, K, E, Y, M, O, U, S, E!

Meat Feast

Day 26: Ulaanbaator (MNG). Karen and I have so much to learn. That wasn't a problem to us – in fact that's the main reason we had embarked on this voyage of discovery. To learn about ourselves, about each other and about other cultures. And Mongolia was kind enough to teach one of the differences between travelling and holidaying: Question your unquestioned premises.

At the start of our adventure Karen and I had held staid views that suggested whenever you were in a foreign county you had to embrace the culture fully; the concept of going to a western style restaurant chain and ordering western food filled us with horror. But there we were, sat in 'Khaan's Irish Pub', surrounded by other westerners, devouring pizza, chips, bread & butter pudding, Coca Cola and mugs of cappuccino – and it was truly heaven!

Arriving in Ulaanbaator a week previously, we instantly took a liking to the quality and value of food on offer in this fascinating country (bargain of the week has to be a three course meal with drinks for the equivalent of about £1.50: Mutton broth, mutton pasties, mutton dumplings & rice cooked in mutton stock - Baaaa!). But in a country where cattle outnumbered people by 20 to 1 and whereby the short summers and hostile winters prevented the cultivation of much in the way of fruit or vegetables (and a lack of hard cash prevented their import) therein lay the problem: It was just meat, meat and more meat – and our frail western bodies just couldn't cope; our digestive systems in melt-down. Without being too crude or going into too much detail – I couldn't stop going to the toilet and Karen couldn't go at all! By mid week, we both started smelling of the mutton dinners we were ingesting as our bodies tried to remove the excess protein by 'sweating' it out.

“What would you do here if you were a vegetarian?”, Karen pondered, as she slapped another dollop of tomato ketchup on to her pizza. Looking up from my food, I caught site of Aron and the rest of the guys from the hostel, freshly returned from their trip to the Gobi desert. With the same monotonous choice of food that we had for the last week their first port of call on arriving back in UB was 'Kaan's Irish Pub' for something 'different' and western.

Fancy a McDonald's anyone?

Michelin Man

Day 25: Mongol Els (MNG) - Ulaanbaator (MNG). The wind howled across the desert plain. The sand hit my face and burned my eyes, the cold numbed by face. “One thing: Wearing all of these clothes makes my rucksack lighter”, shouted Karen against the noise of the wind. I tried to respond but I couldn't. My scarf had frozen to my beard making it difficult for me to move my mouth. This was an awesome experience!

During the night a huge storm had developed battering our little ger tent. In the middle of the desert there were no mains services, so we had huddled around a solitary candle playing cards, afraid to go to bed in case our little tent blew away. The temperature plummeted to -28C, which with the wind-chill, made it feel more like -40 to -45C. Karen and I had hardly slept at all. Not only were we afraid that our ger would be relocated by the desert storm, but we also needed to religiously stoke the fire every two hours to ensure it didn't go out. If we had not, the cold would have been unbearable.

Having made it through the night we were now outside experiencing this incredible phenomena. Looking a bit like the Michelin Man, we were practically wearing every single piece of clothing that we had brought with us on our trip: 2 pairs of thermals, 2 pairs of socks, 1 pair of trousers, 2 tops, 1 fleece, 1 waterproof jacket; 2 pairs of gloves, 1 hat & 1 scarf – and still the cold penetrated!

Bizarrely, this is what we wanted Mongolia to be like For the months of planning that preceded our adventure, Karen and I had speculated about what the formidable cold of Central Asia would really be like. But when we got to Ulaanbaator the temperatures were a balmy -3, leaving us a little; well, disappointed. But Mother Nature had come to our aid and given us a display of how unbelievably hostile this environment could be.

That feeling of standing in the desert, with that cold and that solitude – all five senses working overtime – will stay with us forever. Like I said: Awesome!

Equus

Day 24: Kharkhorin (MNG) – Mongol Els (MNG). “Still, it could have been worse. You could have got a bowl full of sheep's testicles”, Karen said remembering my biggest concern about coming to Mongolia. I nodded in agreement, shrugged my shoulders and picked at the meal.

We had travelled across the Khan Uul Nature reserve, deep into the heart of the desert to spend the night with a lovely family of nomadic people who had chosen to make their life in this inhospitable environment. During the long journey, Jack our guide talked openly about his life in Mongolia: Under the Soviet regime he worked as a mechanic in the west of the country, but with the abolition of communism he moved to Ulaanbaator, to make a better life for his five children, Eight years ago he was introduced to Mr Kim, the owner of the hostel back in UB who offered him a job as a guide and Jack has never looked back since.

Jack's stories were totally absorbing, colourfully interspersed with jokes about the Chinese people and his clever observations regarding the behaviours of the various nationalities that he came in to contact with in the course of his work (Which, in the interests of diplomacy, I shall not disclose here in fear of causing a major international incident!) So much so that the three hour journey simply flew by.

Arriving at the families camp, we were encouraged to take their horses to explore the countryside. At sundown we returned to the ger, absolutely famished. In true spirit of the days equine theme, our nomadic host presented us with a lovingly prepared dish of horse meat. Ordinarily, this may not have bothered me unduly. But today, after spending quality time with our dinners best mate it felt; a little wrong and so without our hosts knowledge we emptied the dishes in to the fire and tucked into an open packet of biscuits!

Dust Bowl

Day 23: Terelj National Park (MNG) – Kharkhorin (MNG). “Years ago, this was great pasture land. In June, July August everything green – many people bring cattle to graze. But no more. Last five years bring no rain. Weather change. All desert now.”, Jack, our Mongolian guide recalled with a hint of sadness in his voice

Leaving the mountainous escarpment of Terelj we retraced our route of the previous day, passing through Ulaanbaator and out of the city again in a South-Westerly direction en-route to Chingiss Khaan's original 13th century capital of Kharkhorin. For the first 100km west of UB, the road surface was surprisingly good allowing us to make good progress on to the high pasture lands that Jack described to us now. “An all too familiar story”, I said to Karen, shaking my head. What saddened me most though about this particular story of climate change was the size of the impact on under resourced countries like Mongolia, despite their relatively small contribution to the initial problem.

After a few hours driving, the tarmac ended and the road again turned into a dirt track that by spine remembered only too well from the day before. However, on this occasion the 'dirt track' was so badly potholed that most drivers preferred to make their own 'road' across the desert. So flat was the environment land you could see for miles in every direction; across the entire landscape were tens of dust balls – each one indicating the presence of a vehicle with its own independent trajectory across the desert.

Despite the uncomfortable off-road journey, our lack of sleep from the night before coupled with the warmth of the winter sunshine amplified through the glass of Jack's car soon had Karen and I dozing. Dozing that is until we were awakened by the honking of horns and the sound of stones and sand hitting the side of the car. Just as there were no marked lanes on this 10 mile wide desert 'highway' there also appeared to be no rules and Jack had just had a near miss with a service bus coming from the other direction, heading towards Ulaanbaator. Jack looked in the rear view mirror to see Karen and my worried faces. He chuckled to himself. This was just an entertaining game to him! “This is just like 'Road Chicken'”, remarked Karen recalling our experiences of driving on Poland just a few weeks prior. “Yes”, I responded, “But for advanced players!”

As the sun started to set behind the mountains, Jack gestured to the West. “Big storm is coming”. He was right, the wind had picked up. Tumbleweed hurtled across the desert sands and huge dust storms were limiting our visibility, further impeding our progress. But eventually, late in to the night, we reached the little ger that was to be our shelter for the night and Karen and I collapsed into bed, thoroughly exhausted by the days travelling.

Outer Mongolia

Day 20: Dozorny (RUS) – Ulaan Baator (MNG). A solitary eagle, silhouetted against the cloudless blue sky soared high above the barren plains, making the most of the weak thermals. Like the eagle I was transfixed by what lay before me: Overnight the scenery had changed. Long gone were the thick pine forests, little wooden houses and deep snowdrifts of Siberia – replaced by the vast grassy plains of Selenge Gol, surrounded by rolling mountains and just the finest dusting of snow. Despite the southerly latitude; it's land-locked location and it's proximity to the high mountains of Tibet, Mongolia's winter climate is very cold but very dry; consequently snow is a rare occurrence.

Staring through the dirty windows of the train, the landscape was occasionally broken by the presence of a few nomadic sheep herders and their gers (traditional felt tents) dotting the wide grassy expanse. It was a tranquil and dreamlike scene. Which was a good thing, as last nights border crossing was not quite so tranquil and dreamlike!

We arrived at Naushki on the Russian border at about 8pm where we remained for the next four and a half hours whilst the Russian Authorities completed our exit formalities. Passports, visas and registration documents were checked. Money and valuables were declared. Bags, people and trains were searched – and all this time we sat in our compartment – unable to get anything to eat or drink or go to the toilet. And it's funny in those circumstances, how guilty you feel – even if you haven't done anything! Eventually though, after what seemed an eternity, the Russian passport controller, stamped our passport and allowed us to continue with our journey (although, it was touch and go at one point – they really didn't like my beard!)

“Thanks goodness that's all over”, Karen said exhaustedly. Unfortunately, it wasn't. 5 miles down the line we entered the Mongolian passport control. And for the next two hours we had to go through the same protracted process all over again. Arghhh!!

1st Class

Day 19: Irkutsk (RUS) – Dozorny (RUS). “I've just met our new neighbour!”, I exclaimed to Karen, with a concerned look on my face. It was 5am local time (midnight Moscow time) and we had just boarded train number 4 that, over the next couple of days, would take us south through the Sayan mountains, across the Russian border, into Mongolia and onto its capital: Ulaanbaator.

Wanting to experience as many different feelings and emotions as possible, we had decided to travel this leg of the train journey in the first class compartment. Previously, we had travelled, very comfortably, in 'kupe' or 2^nd class accommodation, deterred by the effect that the high cost the premium accommodation would have on our budget. But for this trip, for the sheer entertainment value alone, it was well worth it!

First class compartments are a similar size to those found in kupe (about 7ft x 7ft) but rather than having four bunks they have just the two, one above the other on the left hand side of the cabin. Fixtures and fittings are more elaborate with wood panelling and embroidered soft furnishings replacing the plastic and nylon of the kupe cabin. The extra space provided by the removal of bunks 3 and 4 enabled the addition of an arm chair, a small table, a wardrobe and a shower! Now a shower may not sound much, but when you've travelled for days at a time on these trains without the opportunity to have a proper wash, it's the one thing that you (and presumably your fellow passengers, if they have a good sense of smell) really miss.

But what they didn't tell me was that the shower cubicle is ingeniously shared between two first class compartments. So at five am when I decided to 'check out' the shower, I managed to walk straight through in to next doors cabin, only to find a rather disgruntled Chinaman standing there in just his underpants! To rub salt in to the wounds, I then managed to lock the door that allowed him access from his compartment to the shower cubicle, so that at 10am he was braying on the door to be let into 'his' shower.

“I'm glad to see you're making such a good impression with the locals!”, Karen said with a smile. I said nothing and kept my head down.

Cute

Day 18: Listvyanka (RUS) - Irkutsk (RUS). “Oh they're lovely”, “Prijatnyj”, “Oh so cute”... About a dozen gooey eyed women of various nationalities crammed around the tanks that were home to the Baikal Seals - fixated by these gorgeous animals. As I watched both the seals and the reactions that they invoked, I decided that when I finally do meet my maker, I'm going to ask if I can come back as a seal next time - because as a seal you really can't fail to be a hit with the ladies!

Apart from the seals that we had come to see, the Baikal Museum had a number of fascinating displays and exhibits describing the the unique ecosystem that has developed in this huge fresh water lake over the last 50 million years. The lake supports over 3,500 different forms of life of which 80%, the seals included, can't be found any where else on earth. Almost hunted to extinction, the seals are now a protected species, their numbers fortunately on the rise again with a present day population of around 60,000 animals.

“We need to find somewhere to stay for the night”, I said to Karen as we reluctantly said goodbye to these beautiful creatures. We had a very early train to catch the following day so we thought we'd check out the station rest-rooms or 'komnaty otdykha'. In a mixture of broken English, broken Russian and sign language we enquired the cost of a bed from the rather stern looking attendant “That will cost 110 roubles per hour and an extra 85 roubles if you want to use the shower”, she replied with a dead pan expression. Karen nodded her approval to me and so I counted the money onto the little table in front of the attendant. She handed us our towels and we retired for the night.

So that's another 'first'. Never before had Karen and I bought a room by the hour! Seedy? Well, maybe just a little!

Toseland?

Day 16: Irkutsk (RUS) – Listvyanka (RUS). “Never mind another country this looks like another planet!”, I said as we both gazed out on the incredible scene before us. Pulling our scarf's around our faces we set off in to the icy wind to walk the couple of miles into the centre of Listvyanka. Completely overwhelmed by our environment, for the most we walked in silence.

Having made enquiries the previous day, we had managed to secure transport to take us the 40 miles from Irkutsk to Listvyanka on the edge of Lake Baikal. Baikal is the oldest and one of the world largest lakes being 400 miles long, 40 miles wide and a mile deep. So vast is this inland freshwater sea that if all the rest of the worlds drinking water dried up tomorrow, Lake Baikal could supply the entire population of the planet for the next 40 years!

However, in the grips of midwinter, the 'Blue Eye of Siberia' was completely encased in ice 10ft deep for as far as the eye could see. On the far shores, beyond the ice sheet, I could just make out the summits of enormous mountains poking out from the cloud cover. The wind howled in from the north and my face burned as it was bombarded with crystals of ice broken off from the lake's freezing mantle. I had never seen anything like this. All I could think of was an old textbook on astronomy that I had as a child. In there was an artists impression of Europa, Jupiter's frozen moon. To me, this was Europa.

As we entered the village itself an old man called from the verandah of one of the wooden cottages by the lake shore, “Privet!, eta Nadia”. Nadia? We had met a Nadia – back in Irkutsk – whilst we were trying to work out how to get to Listvyanka. Nadia had told us of a kind family who would be happy to help us find accommodation. She must have called ahead and said we were coming. Within minutes we were invited into the ageing fisherman's traditional Russian house to meet his family. His wife Tanya made us hot drinks to combat the effect of the biting cold and insisted that we stay with them during our visit to the lake; very quickly we were making ourselves at home in their simple little cottage.

NB I would like to make an official apology to the Russian nation. Prior to the start of our adventure I had made a number of jibes about Russian food and its reliance on the potato. I would now like to formally quash that rumour. Tonight Karen and I had a very cheap but traditional meal of Omul; an indigenous fish to Lake Baikal and I can honestly say it is one of the best meals I have ever tasted. I hope the Russian people can find it in their hearts to forgive me.

Springtime

Day 15: Irkutsk (RUS). For me, there's something special about February. On the one-hand its my birthday month so it usually involves quantities of beer and cake! And on the other, February offers those tantalising glimpses of spring: The sun shines, the birds sing and just when you begin to believe warmer days are on the way - Winter returns to regain it's icy grip. So it was today.

The scene could have been any city in the Northern Hemisphere: Brilliant sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, old ladies discussing the unseasonal weather, children playing in the playground and students reading literature on park benches. But then if I told you that the slide on which the children played was carved from solid ice, the manuscript was that of Marx and the balmy temperatures registered a whopping -12C, then maybe you'd conclude we were in Siberian town of Irkutsk.

Dubbed 'The Paris of Siberia', Irkutsk is a quaint little town with traditional wooden architecture that must have been stunning when built 100 years ago. But sadly, the town doesn't appear to have weathered too well under the communist years and today it looks a little, well, tired. Deep into Russia, Irkutsk however does give you a feeling that East and West are finally united The people look different here. Not necessarily European, not necessarily Asian – just different. And despite its 'tired' appearance the Asian influence helps to brighten up those Soviet style concrete monstrosities that we had seen all over Russia by the addition of colourful banners, lanterns and dragons.

For Karen and me, the unseasonably warm temperatures were very much appreciated, because whilst -12C is not exactly tropical, it did enable us to spend pretty much all day outside sightseeing without suffering any of the effects that we had encountered back in Yekaterinburg (although I still found that I couldn't go for more than an hour at these temperatures without needing another wee!!)

Today's 'entertainment' came by way of the transportation system. Irkutsk has a excellent public transport system: trains, trams, trolleybuses & buses all play their part, but by far the most popular way to travel here is by using one of the hundreds of mini buses that patrol the city. If you can actually get on one, that is! If you've ever tried to hail a black cab after midnight to go 'South of the River' then you may just have an inkling of what's involved: We stood at one stop and watched 30 buses a minute go past. Most were full to bursting. Of those that had seats, many didn't stop. Many of those that did stop drove off before we had time to get in. Eventually, we finally managed to get on board. Only for it to drop us further away from our destination than when we started. Oh Joy!

Babushka

Day 14: Krasnoyarsk (RUS) – Irkutsk (RUS). “Checkmate!”, I exclaimed excitedly. Karen seemed less impressed than me at my chess victory. But it felt important to me. So far Karen had thrashed me at every game of Gin Rummy, Scrabble and also got the better of me at Fives and Threes (although we later discovered our domino set was missing three or four tiles and consequently I declared this result to be null and void!).

Prior to embarking on our trip, I did wonder whether I would find these long train journeys quite tedious, but the reality was very different: They were actually great fun. We would occupy our time playing games, reading, talking (loose term!) to our Russian travellers and watching the amazing, captivating scenery pass by our carriage window.

Every couple of hours of so the train would pull into a station to take on more supplies and clear the accumulated ice and snow from the bogies. This presented a good opportunity for Karen and me to stretch our legs and get a little fresh air. Our excursions however, clearly made Maryna nervous as she regarded us to be a bit 'out of control' and so we never ventured too far from the train.

These stop-overs were also the opportunity for the local 'babushkas' to peddle their wares on the platforms (and even on the train if they could get past Maryna!). No matter how rural the station or how cold the night, the variety of goods for sale never failed to impress. Bread, fruit, cigarettes, hats, jewellery & souvenirs. It was all there. “That looks appetising”, Karen joked as she gestured towards one old lady whose contribution to this mini-bazaar was a solitary fish that she waived in the air optimistically at any prospective buyer. We don't know how long she had it or where she got it from (we were 3,000 miles from the sea and all the locals lakes and rivers were frozen) but she was determined to sell it.

On this occasion Karen and I declined her kind offer.

Day 14: Total Mileage to Date: 5,723: Number of Time Zones Crossed: 9; Number of Countries Visited: 6; Number of Transport Modes Used: 10, Maximum Temperature Encountered: +8C, Minimum Temperature Encountered: -23C.

Siberia

Day 13: Omsk (RUS) – Krasnoyarsk (RUS). As the first light of day illuminated our compartment, I awoke from a deep and restful sleep. Clearing the ice and condensation from the inside of the carriage window I gazed out on the changing scene before me. No more were the dense forests we encountered on the western stages of our journey – the landscape had been replaced by a barren wilderness encased in a blanket of snow. For this was the inhospitable Baraba Steppe – coarse reeds and sedge concealed swamps, peat bogs and rare patches of firm ground.

The train progressed relentlessly, heading generally East-South-East and devouring two more time zones in the process.

As we crossed the border between the principalities of Sverdlovskaya and Tyumenskaya we reached another notable milestone in our epic journey. “Welcome to the world of Dr Zhivago”, I said to Karen. For we had now entered the vast tract of land know as 'Siberia'. Karen smiled but kept here eyes fixed on the stunning scenery that lay on the outside of our frozen carriage window.

“Zazdorovje, Prost, Salut, Cheers”, we all said in unison. It didn't seem to matter what language we spoke, somehow, miraculously we seemed to be communicating. Our Russian cabin-mates; Tania and Albert had invited us for a drink and so there we were, sat in the dining car of the Trans-Siberian Express, telling tales, exchanging photographs and drinking vodka. It felt very surreal; as Rihanna blared from the jukebox and we laughed at unfunny jokes - for a moment, it felt like we were back at home in the Waggon & Horses. Except for the fact that nobody spoke English... And we were travelling on a train at 50mph... And outside it resembled Santa's Grotto... And nobody mentioned murkins... Shame!.