GT2010: Day Two - Toyota Land Cruiser, 3.0 liter, 1978

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No, it can't be! I have just warmed up in my sleeping bag, and the alarm clock is already beeping.

4-45.
Cold.
Very cold.
With stiff fingers I try to catch the laces on my boots. Useless. Thanks to Claudius - I have hot coffee in a thermos. But opening it is also a problem. It seems that the most affected element of our crew is my hands. I won’t go to the mountains without a hydraulic booster anymore.
Never.
Probably.

Having contrived, I uncork the thermos. Bitter coffee awakens strength. The little adrenaline rush subsides. Here and there the foreheads outline the trajectory of my colleagues. Cars of tourists who spent the night in the camp, and not in a closed park, warm up the engine. We still have to hobble to the closed park, warm up and get to the starting point.

SturmMaria is ready, navigation is in her backpack, we are going along the way, planning where we will go this morning. We know that our colleagues have already been everywhere, there will be no unshakable points today. Neighbors share who went where yesterday, and where it is especially fun. It seems to be everywhere.

Engine starting. Again, it's nice to have no problems. We should check on Lemonade Joe's condition, but darkness, cold and lack of time are driving us to the starting area.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM - the roof rumbles, SHVARK-DZIN-BREN echoes the rigging in the back, BOOBOO-RRRA sings his song silencer. God! How tired of this concert yesterday! And now another seventeen hours to participate in this orchestra ... Hands habitually grabbed the steering wheel, we are overtaken by TP3, we are overtaking tourists, the night street of the small village of Osmoloda resembles a natural disaster zone in Hollywood disaster films.

There are 13 TP1 crews at the start. One crew has already left and is probably sleeping peacefully now. Masha leaned on the screen of Hammerhead, Garmin displays the red threads of yesterday's tracks. How much will we take today?

We decide to go to a difficult and, as they say, a double point. That is, a point that is better to take in two cars. We're single, hoping we'll break through. As a last resort, one crew also planned to look there today.

Start. It's still dark. Headlights flicker from side to side. We start climbing. In the moonlight, the outlines of mountains appear around, clouds of fog in the lowlands. Quickly jumped past yesterday's first point, we go further. Behind, dawn begins, which means it will soon become easier.

Accurately indicating each zigzag, Masha deprives me of the opportunity to even relax, I drive as much as I can. Then we go along the stream, we pass the place of yesterday's breakdown. Here is the area of ​​107 points. We were supposed to take it yesterday. Exit from the stream, shaky patch in front of the point. Large thick logs, already chewed up by yesterday's conquerors, lie across the course. There, even if it doesn’t jump, we will reach on a swan, but going back will be more difficult.

We chose tactics, Lemonade froze before the jump, gas to the floor, flying off the logs, I jump almost to the point. Photo.

Now back. Eh, I didn’t have time to revive the compressor, blocking would not hurt here. Jump back Lemonade Joe performed even better than we expected: the rear wheels rested on the logs, but from here there is the possibility of swans.

Just cut the passage a little wider first. Chainsaw in three steps less often thick, but rotten wood, now you can try. Not immediately, after successful buildups, LJ went to the starting spot. That's all, they took the 107th and went out even without a quinoa.

Again a stream, a rodeo on stones, we reached point 106 without much difficulty. Photo.

It's nice, damn it.

Switching to 105. A little effort and

105, 104, 103 taken.

Now 102.
In front of her is a race where you don’t indulge in the most mud, but, already knowing the nature of this mud, Lemonade and I are going to storm.

Oh, if only I could film this ascent! I had to give gas even at the bottom of the rise and not let go almost all the way to the wall of the house.

After the start, 4 hours passed, and we took 5 points. We're going at a good pace. Further on 108. The path goes along the stream, the stones are getting larger, goes to the bank of the stream, we go along the narrow wall between the edge of the three-meter bank of the stream and the wall of the forest.

This is not the place where the previous crew fell off, but on the same creek

I notice ahead that someone could not resist on this ledge and, judging by the tracks, flew off the path with his left side. I press myself to the right, the elastic bush rests against Lemonade's face, dampens the speed, I am pulled to the right ... they sat down. They sat down firmly. Well, who would have thought that having a large stream two meters to the left between the rut along which we were driving and the forest, into which I almost rested with the bumper, there is another smaller stream?!

I chop a bush with a hatchet, Masha catches a quinoa, and I notice fresh cuts of a lying twilight with a chainsaw. So that's what threw that carriage off the road: obviously, behind the bush in which I rested, they did not see the lying tree, and then they tried to slip through. Well, we are more fortunate...

Suddenly, guys in identical jackets appear out of nowhere. They heard our motor and went out to meet us. Then there is only one place where you can miss each other. They are waiting for us there. They also said that they spent four hours on the site that awaits us ahead.

Freed from captivity, Lemonade famously jumped over a couple of ditches and believing in the hardness of the soil next to Isuzu waiting for us, I sit firmly in a rut.

We hook the winch to Isuzu and even help ourselves with the wheels and drag Big Horn with the engine turned off towards us. We sit tight. Ah, if the locks worked… We release the
guys, we are looking for a stronger anchor. To do this, you must first go down the stream, then climb a sheer wall,

then make your way through the palisade of dusk and catch on.

The first twilight leans easily in our direction. Masha climbs even higher, finds a stronger anchor. I do not see her.

We start to stretch. The cardan crosses howl, but centimeter by centimeter we are freed from captivity. The point is very close, but before it the shatter is such that it is impossible to pull out the boots without the help of hands. Having worked hard, hooking the quinoa more than once, we reach the coveted 108.

The way back through the same shit. But we passed them with a bang. Only in one run. A slow, neat exit along a well-known narrowness and we are in a solid stream bed. We crawl up the stream.

Even when we were going up the stream, I noticed that Garmin fixes the speed of movement in the stream as 0.0 km / h, that is, it simply does not have time to catch the satellite at the moment of movement. Masha says the distance along the stream is 1 km.

After a long enough time, he says: "There are 800 meters left." On the map of the General Staff, this stream is marked as a decent dirt road. I don't remember how the remaining 800 meters went up the stream.

We easily take point 134. Now the same distance down. And going downstream is noticeably more difficult: firstly, the water hides large boulders, and I can’t see their height, and secondly, the sun begins to blind my eyes, hiding the relief even more. On one of the boulders I get a powerful blow to the right hand with the wheel. Hurt. Too bad I can no longer hold the steering wheel with my right hand. We stop to take a breath. We turn off the engine. The stream gurgles. Good! At the moment when we were about to move on, two colleagues appeared from a nearby stream with a steering rod on their shoulders. Crew 106.

We broke off on the approach to point 106. The guys left the car, estimating that it was about 18 km to the camp in a straight line or more than 35 km along the road, hoping to reach the dark. And then the taxi is empty.
We took the victims into the back and went downstairs. When, to my joy, they got out of the stream, the sun was already at its zenith. We are driving down the highway and I notice that something is wrong with the brakes. More precisely, we say it is not so - they simply do not exist. Having carefully reached the fork, the guys landed, and they themselves began to inspect. At this moment, Shniva rolls out from another track, whose suspension arm is torn off and she goes to weld. They picked up one of the victims with their lever and rolled to the famous welding workshop near the bridge.

And I found a broken brake pipe. They began to block the cork, but it turned out that I did not take the brake fluid. I had to turn to friends in the camp to bring them. In addition, I managed to cut my elbow and part of the time was spent on sealing my hole. At this time, the inhabitants of Odessa drove up - crew 113 on the Big Horn and decided to have a bite to eat with us. Such is the picture: Masha glues my wound, the navigator of crew 106 lies under Lemonade, and on the hood of Isuzu, stew is heated on a gas burner.

We repaired, had a bite to eat, and then an ambulance with brake fluid arrived in time.
Topped up, pumped, and drove off ... But on the very first descent, our plug fired loudly and again we were driving without brakes. While the track smoothly goes up, and I think how and how to drown the tube. The fact is that it broke off at the hexagon itself and bending the rest of the tube is a problem. While I was thinking, we took 120 points right by the road, and 136 looms nearby. Masha rushes in search of a race, and I, resting my wheel on the side of the track, stand in thought. Voice on the radio: "Found, I see you, go left." Okay, to the left, a side of two meters, then a field of cut fir trees sharply going up. I don’t see Masha, but she “to the right, to the left, straight ahead ...” and I’m going. Driving around the stumps, I think: “How can I go down here? No brakes?

The descent was not long, but tense. On the first low, trying not to accelerate, and feeling how the rear axle is trying to overtake the front one, I broke out in a cold sweat. And Masha at that time calmly filmed wadings, fiddled with navigation ...

“So, I say to Masha, I won’t take any more risks. Either we fix it or…”

Found a clearing, began to generate ideas. The first one was not successful. The second ... and then the crew of 113 appeared again on Isuzu. By joint efforts and thanks to a strong self-tapping screw from the stocks of the inhabitants of Odessa, it was possible to drown out the hole.

Thanks guys, they helped us a lot. I also noticed that one of the rear springs arched beyond measure - it turned out that the anti-reverse turned. Corrected.
We rolled further. Stream. Boulders again. Masha says: “Now we have three wheels slowing down?”. I say yes. And I myself understand that the rear pads, most likely, were gone yesterday. I must say that for the first time I encountered such abrasive dust, which is obtained when white clay dries. So, we brake with one left.

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