I take my time through Russia, as the convoy I am now part of is plagued with mechanical failures. A two full days of driving stretches out to three and a half days and we arrive at the Mongolian border just before six at night, just before the end of the workday. We hand over our passports and are directed to pull into “the compound” where there are at least forty other teams.

The weather is turning fast. Our desire to say hello to other ralliers and get the lowdown on this border situation is quickly superseded by the need to set up shelter. We line our cars up into a U-Shape, rig up all the tarp we have just as the storm hits. We huddle together under the tarp in the freezing cold rain and gale force wind hoping our tent doesn’t blow away.

Welcome to Mongolia! Oh wait, we are not quite there yet… so close, yet so far away.

During the storm, visitors arrive to admire the awesome refugee camp we’ve set up and share news. Some teams have been in “the compound” for thirty-six hours already and have no idea if they will be processed out by tomorrow.

I guess it’s a good thing that we’ve got at least five days worth of food.

The rain stops and the storm breaks. Three little black goats wander into the compound and the boys decided to herd them. Dave and Locky each catch one, we hold onto the little goat for a picture and let it go, while the third goat is caught by an Italian, picked up and brought to the other end of the compound as a victory! Oh, what we do for fun when we are denied our freedom.

The next morning all the drivers hang out by the administration building hoping to get ourselves processed, so we do not need to spend another night camping on concrete. An officer walks by me and asks me if I am Chinese in Mandarin, and practices the five phrases he knows in Mandarin on me. Next thing you know, my car plate has been called. My paper work is, all of sudden, ahead in the cue, and I have been processed out ahead of teams that arrived long before me. I can’t leave. I can’t leave my boys behind.

I share a smoke with a friendly officer who speaks fluent English, and attempt to get the Canadians and the Aussies that I am traveling with processed out, as well. The officer says, “I don’t want to tell you no, but it is unlikely. Tomorrow for sure.”