We returned to Mongolia with semi heavy hearts. We knew that financially selling the bikes made sense. German registered bikes are not allowed in Korea. The good news is that half the customs people do not know that. The bad news is that the other half do. Should we have meet with the latter our bikes would have been put on bonded truck (on our dollar) and shipped to Busan. The ever amazing Lorriane Chittock was able to find us shipping straight out of Vladivostok and onwards to South America. But even with her finding us the lowest offer available, it was more than the two bikes were worth. We could buy new bikes for the shipping costs combined with what we would get in the sale.
First night back in Mongolia:
Mongolia was the easiest place to sell. We had buyers, and it meant we could continue our trip in whatever fashion we wanted. Suddenly New Zealand was a possibility. As was South East Asia. (I had no desire to ride Betty in South East Asia, but a little bike….)
So I sold my first bike. I think For Patrick it was much easier, he liked Wilma, but he did not love her. Betty was my baby. Like any passionate relationship we had emotionally (and in Betty and mine’s case, physically) scarred each other. We crashed into Turkish mountains together, she landed us in hospital in Iceland, and I flew her off a Mongolian mountain.
Minutes before the handover:
Without bikes we had no desire to stay in Mongolia. We booked our tickets to Bangkok and began our odyssey to acquire two new bikes. And that is how we ended up in Malaysia. But that is for another post.
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