The Event

The Mongol Rally (If you’ve not heard of this rather ridiculous event) is a car ‘rally’ run by a strange bunch of madmen called the ‘Adventurists’, where the entrants attempt to drive some 7,500-10,000 (or more!) miles from the UK to a varying number of finishing lines in the Mongolian capital of Ulanbataar. All in the name of adventure and raising loads of cash for charity.




Now, the word ‘Rally’ is probably a bit misleading. We’re not talking some sort of budget WRC here. For starters, the Mongol is certainly NOT a race. There’s no prizes whatsoever for finishing first. Or last. In fact, it seems that they’d probably prefer it if you didn’t make it to the finish at all, because as they put it: “The best stories come from those who don’t quite make it!”


Now, you might think this might have been easier than it sounds. And to be honest, it might very well be if you could rock up in a tricked out Land Rover Defender, 2 or 3 support vehicles and an inexhaustable supply of spares. But the pesky organisers cunningly implemented one or two 'rules' to make it that bit harder (and more fun).


Firstly, your vehicle couldn't have an engine of more than 1.2 Litre in size. Yep, a whole whopping 1200cc. For every 100cc you break this sacred limit by, you are 'fined' a hundred quid, payable straight to the charities. However, you’ll be unsurprised to find that the 1.2L rule CAN be breached, but only if your vehicle is of ‘sufficient comedy value’. Like a fully functioning Ice Cream van for instance (don’t laugh, one did it in 2007) or a Red Routemaster Bus (2008).




Secondly, the car had to be no older than 10 years. This was a new rule introduced for the ‘09 rally, as it seems the Mongolian authorities got a bit cheesed off with being left with dozens of fecked old cars. You could still take a 10+yr old banger if you so desire, but you’re subject to a hefty ‘deposit’ fee and the car HAD to leave Mongolia (if it makes it that far!) after the rally.


Finally, there is NO support at all. None. Nada. Nothing. Not a sausage. Once you cross that start line, you are on your own with regards to your route, fixing your trusty steed when it breaks and finding the local chippy for a bit of scoff. The only official ‘checkpoint’ on the rally was in the Czech Republic, near Prague but that is purely for the purposes of having an almighty great piss up and giving the UK starters a chance to laugh at their European counterparts at their own start line before you head out into the unknown.


More about these crazy Adventurist persons, the Rally itself (and the other daft adventures they organise) can be found by going all clicky clicky HERE.