Ups and dunes - the Gobi desert

I'VE had a driving licence for 18 years, yet I have never owned a car. I have lived in cities most of my adult life and for practical reasons I use pedal power over horsepower. So imagine my excitement when I was invited to drive across Mongolia's spectacular Gobi desert.

My mission: to accompany the multi-skilled Land Rover G4 Challenge reconnaissance team on a three-day, behind-the-scenes exploratory trip. Our task: to seek out undiscovered routes and sporting locations to challenge the world's top extreme athletes.

In support of the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, the challenge is an environmentally responsible, extreme adventure competition, centred on off-road driving. The top team wins a Land Rover for its Red Cross or Red Crescent Society.

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The 18-month programme starts by recruiting competitors from 18 participating countries, and concludes with a three-week, multi-sport off-road challenge. The final event will be held in the Mongolian wilderness next summer. It is open to anyone with a passion for adventure.

"The challenge has never been this remote; it's going to be a real adventure," says logistics expert and project manager John 'Limmy' Limb. "You don't need to be a professional athlete to participate. Experience in kayaking, mountain biking, climbing and off-road driving is, of course, useful, but it's not essential. It's not only about good physical fitness. Strategic planning and teamwork are vital. It's a test of mind, body and spirit."

Mongolia is an independent, landlocked country. Its vast borders surround and protect the country and the 2.6 million people who live there, with dense forests to the north, the Altai mountains to the west and the high-altitude Gobi desert to the south '“ the coldest, most northerly desert and the starting point for our expedition.

We leave Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia's capital, and fly an hour and a half south, to a small landing strip in the remote town of Dalanzadgad, in mngovi province, south Gobi. It is the largest, hottest and driest region in the country.

The G4 recce team meet our group of eight with a fleet of surprisingly clean, orange Land Rovers. The vehicles '“ two Discoveries, two Freelanders and four back-up Defenders '“ are piled high with mountain bikes, kayaks, kite buggies and other adrenaline-pumping paraphernalia.

The nine team members have survived the Mongolian wilds for nearly two months now. They search daily for demanding off-road routes and sporting locations for the competition. The logistics behind such an operation take a serious amount of organisation and knowledge.

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Every step is taken to keep competitors safe. Jamie Todd, the G4 paramedic, runs his own medical and rescue service. His vehicle is an impressive mobile hospital unit, complete with a defibrillator and other life-saving instruments. We feel secure knowing he's around.

We drive for an hour to the purpose-built G4 camp. It consists of five traditional felt ger (dwelling) tents, built on a hilltop. Behind the camp are the Gurvan Saikhan mountains, and below a spectacular emptiness stretches for hundreds of kilometres. An old Russian army truck is somehow transformed into a toilet and shower block.

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That afternoon, we have a trip briefing. Potential routes are highlighted on a map of the Gobi. The plan is to travel from Dalanzadgad to the town of Bayankhongor, approximately 600 kilometres across the south Gobi. On average, we will drive for around eight hours a day, covering approximately 200km on rough, unpredictable roads.

Later that day, we visit a neighbouring nomadic family. As we arrive, the skies open, so we are ushered inside the warm, dry ger. The entire family sleep here. Red woven rugs cover the floor and a tin stove sits in the centre of the room, with a long chimney running out of a hole in the roof. Cooking pots are scattered on the floor. Juxtaposed against the traditional lodgings, a mobile telephone sits on top of a chest on one side of the tent.

Our host kindly offers a glass of warm distilled mare's milk and some noisome, salty cheese. To avoid offence, I pretend to eat it but instead conceal the hard lump in a trouser pocket.

At the crack of dawn, we break camp. Our eight-vehicle convoy thunders across the ancient Gobi, dwarfed under the immense vault of sky. The vehicles are packed full of supplies and sports gear. We are self-sufficient '“ there are no flushing toilets, supermarkets, restaurants, hospitals or internet cafs where we're going.

The Gobi is special; you feel a sense of discovery, that you are the first to see it. We pass herds of bactrian camels, goats, windswept sheep, wild horses and hungry-looking vultures. We drive along dusty rutted roads, through boulder-strewn steppes and deep, sandy riverbeds. The impressive Yolyn Am valley, with its glaciers and narrow Dugani Am gorge, leaves little room for error. The black gorge walls seem to close in on us, barely leaving room to pass.

We communicate by radio. When Limmy, driving the lead vehicle, spots a possible bike route, we stop. The bikes are hauled from the roof racks and we pedal off for an experimental rollercoaster ride over rugged, breathtaking terrain. It gets the blood racing and provides a fresh perspective of this extraordinary region.

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Mongolia is the most sparsely populated country in the world. We drive for hours through the middle of nowhere, and then, when we least expect it, a small, white ger pops up on the horizon like a large mushroom.

Nokhoi khorioroi, which means 'call off your dogs', is undoubtedly the most important local phrase to learn. Outside most gers is a guard dog the size of a small pony. The snarling animals have large heads, deep chests and long shaggy hair '“ and since rabies is endemic in Mongolia, it's wise to give them a wide berth. In addition to the dog, there is usually a tough-looking saddled horse tethered outside each tent, the main mode of transport in these parts.

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Our first night is spent in Western-style tents at the foot of the towering Khongoryn Els dunes. Daily temperatures here can range from 40C to '“40C, with less than 100mm of annual rainfall.

Prior to tucking into our boil-in-the-bag, candle-lit dinner, we scramble about in the sand, going ever up and on, over false summits until we finally reach the top of the dunes. Here, we try sand-boarding and kite-flying, and then kick back in the soft sand to watch the sunset. The view is spectacular '“ row after row of deep red dunes stretch into the distance.

Another early morning start and our convoy heads across the Gurvansaikhan national park in a swirl of dust. There are no particular routes through the Gobi. Sometimes we drive for hours, until the cruel joke of a road runs out of steam and ends at the front door of a ger or the dead-end of a canyon, and we have to back-track.

The distinctive outline of a Mongol horseman appears in front of us. His faithful steed, with its jack-hammering trot '“ a gait favoured by Mongol riders '“ carries him safely across the hard, potholed terrain. A horse travelling any faster would stumble in the myriad holes dug by marmots and other rodents, and break its legs.

Mongolia throws up some truly operatic weather. Without notice, the blue sky can turn into a red, raging sand storm. Stunning lightening storms perform to a thunderous soundtrack and torrential rain creates flash floods that fill a normally dry riverbed with a torrent of rust-coloured water.

We stop to refuel in Bogd, a small, sleepy town in Bayankhongor province. There is no petrol station; the fuel is pumped directly from a tanker.

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Later that day, we make camp. A young nomadic family appears out of nowhere on a smart-looking motorbike. They shower us with gifts of mare's milk and more noisome cheese. In return, we give them boil-in-the-bag beans and spotted dick '“ a great dessert for this most glorious desert.

Fact file: Mongolia

Entry to the Land Rover G4 Challenge (www.landroverg4challenge.com) is free. The deadline for UK national selection is September 30.

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Korean Air (020 7495 8641, www.koreanair.com) flies from London Heathrow to Ulaanbaatar, via Seoul. Prices start from 862.80, including tax.

Black Shaman (00 976 7014 6889, www.blackshaman.mn) offers individual or group tours throughout Mongolia, providing translators, guides and vehicles.

A single-entry Mongolian visa costs 60 through the Embassy of Mongolia (www.embassyofmongolia.co.uk), which is based in London.

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