We arrived at the school, which was very similar to those built in this country in the 1950's. After the usual friendly local greeting, the team was told that it was Basketball and suffice to say they got thrashed. The Russians take their sport very seriously. The next game was Volleyball with similar results. Chris had a game of table tennis with one of the local lads, which seemed to be going quite well in our favour, until we discovered that it was just a warm up until the local champion turned up. Russia 3 England 0.

After the game the team went for the usual drink of rocket fuel, but the two drivers went to the car park to warm the engines. I was bending down fiddling with the accelerator pedal that had suddenly become prone to sticking, when I noticed Chris speed past. Initially, I thought that everyone had got into his vehicle and they were on the way back to the orphanage, but he returned shortly and explained he was taking some of the children home. He made another couple of trips and in the meantime I gave rides up and down the road to the children who were waiting for the staff. On one of the runs, I shoved in one of the tapes that were lying on top of the dashboard and the Beatles "Back in the USSR" blared out over the speakers. Great amusement!

Eventually the team appeared and we made the return journey to the orphange through the snow with all the worklights, spotlights, stereo CB and heater on. All this fun resulted in a flat battery on the One Ten the following morning. The bonfire was just a small glow by the time we reached our destination and everyone told us how good the display was... Luckily, they forgot to ask how we got on... At least there was the remains of a meal to finish off. Wild boar pate is recommended, apparently. And rave music, which isn't, so I replaced it with ZZ Top, that is.

Far too soon it became the morning of our departure. The ambulance had been handed over to the Director of the orphanage by the Staffordshire Paramedics and a group photograph was taken in front of a statue of that nice Mr Lenin, with some members of the convoy still suffering the effects of drinking rocket fuel the previous night. Farewells were said as vehicles were loaded and final preparation undertaken. It was exceptionally cold and "dubious" quality diesel had gone waxy in my 110 and Tony Cable's Range Rover. A drop of petrol in the fuel tank and a start assisted by jump leads, soon had the 110 going, but Tony's still refused to start.

Driving through Minsk, we found it to be a hive of activity, a change from the last time we drove through, when it was virtually deserted. Running at the rear of the convoy, by the time we entered the refuelling/stopping areas, the lead vehicles were usually on their way out, this was to become a feature of the journey.

On the first night, we arrived at the Belarus/Russia/Poland border and pushed to the front as usual. The first two borders not presenting a great problem, but at the Polish border, they were concerned about the amount of fuel that was being carried. Not from a safety point of view, but because of the fact that fuel is considerably cheaper in Belarus and a lot of people smuggle it in to resell at a profit. I had filled up in Belarus and paid $25 to fill the main tank, the reserve and some jerry cans. Anyhow, we managed to persude/confuse/bore the Polish guards into letting us through, not before they had charged us "trailer tax" and they tried to charge me "non-trailer tax". Nice try.

Anyhow, we were on our way. We found a lay-by to park in, so we stopped for a few hours sleep. When dawn broke we found it wasn't a lay-by but someone's garden. We were gone before anyone complained. It was a cold but sunny day as we drove through the flat expanse of Poland, eventually stopping at a petrol station which sold food. This suddenly increased in price when they realised we were English/Welsh/Scottish. I took the opportunity to add some more diesel, but this was considerably dearer than Belarus, which is still considerably cheaper than in the UK. Still, I managed to get a receipt off the cashier. The vehicle performed considerably better on this diesel.

The Polish/German border appeared and this time we joined the queue of vehicles waiting to pass through. We were not too long in getting to the head of the queue and were passed through without problems. It was decided to head for Berlin and spend the night and, as we were all self funded, preferably in a cheap B&B. During the search for somewhere to sleep, we found the proverbial McDonalds and caused chaos in the carpark, both entering and leaving. Eventually a small hotel was found, but they would not accept $, œ, AMEX, Barclaycard, Access or any other form of credit card or currency, with the exception of Deutchmarks.

Ray and Mark needed to return to the UK before the rest of us and had decided to catch a flight from Berlin. I was elected to drive them to the airport, which was "just down the road", which was also a good oppportunity to change everyone's dollars to Dmk's. We trundled down the road and found the airport remarkably quickly. I went to change the currency and on the way back saw Ray and Mark coming towards us. Wrong airport.

We were in East Berlin, the required airport was located in North West Berlin. So off we went, Ray usefully having an underground map to guide us. We went round in circles for what seemed like hours on end. And when we looked at the time, was. Eventually arriving at the Brandenburg Gate, which looked superb lit up, I decided to ask a policeman the way to the airport and luckily found one that could speak English. After being told that there were eleven airports to choose from, we decided on the most likely and he gave directions. He also enquired why we were driving a sticker covered Land Rover around Berlin late on a Sunday evening, so I explained where were had been and what were we doing and he wished us well, before pointing out that Land Rover was now German. Goodbye.

We drove through the Brandenburg Gate and headed towards the airport and dropped Mark and Ray off. driving away quickly before they found it was the wrong airport again. Apparently it wasn't and they got home days before us. Now we had to get back to the hotel, which was right the other side of the city. My son, Robb who had accompanied us, decided that he didn't feel too good and it was not a good idea to read the map on the way back. This left me to guess the route, drive on the wrong side and occassionaly glance at a map when we became stationary. Good fun. Driving through a nightime Berlin was impressive and made up for all the problems encountered. After a few wrong slots and U turns, we eventually headed back out on the Dresden road, which was in the direction required and Robb asked a bus driver the way. To cut a long story short, we arrived back at the hotel, found that nearly everyone else had been to the local, and went to bed, after a long awaited shower.

The following day, we all piled into the two vans and drove into Berlin. Been there. Done that. In daylight, it was nowhere near as impressive as the nightime run. Thanks Ray! We returned to the hotel, collected our stuff and we all drove off. Well, not quite all of us. We noticed later on, quite later on, that Phil wasn't in any of the vehicles. He had been swapping vehicles from time to time and everyone had assumed he was with someone else. One of the Scottish crews were elected to return to pick him up, as I was having trouble with a leaking radiator and the service station we had pulled into had everything except Radweld.

Continuing up the autobahn, we headed to Hamburg, the idea was to find a cheap hotel and have a good night sleep before the long ferry trip the following day. One of the Scottish crews, wandered off the motorway and headed off towards Poland again. They rejoined the autobahn later. We had no problems on the autobahn this time, apart from the need to keep a watchful eye on the temperature gauge. Arriving at the outskirts of Hamburg, we played follow my leader down through the busy roads to the docks. The route chosen into the docks had width restrictors, obviously to stop lorries from using it for access, but it also stopped Land Rovers with wide trailers. As I was behind and blocking traffic wanting to filter left, I drove around the block. Unfortunately, this was a rather large block and, by the time I got around again, everyone had vanished. Lost in Hamburg.

Not quite. We knew the name of the hotel and eventually found it. Parking outside, I was suspicious that it was not the right hotel. This was the German equivalent of a four star hotel, not the cheap B&B we were looking for. Anyhow, I left Robb on the CB trying to contact the rest of the convoy and ventured into reception. One of the girls was just coming off duty and greeted me in German. I apologise for my lack of fluency in German, most of my German coming from war films and Auf Weideshen, Pet. Which, as it happened, was quite appropriate.

She answered with a "It's alright, Petal, I'm from Manchester."

A few non-alcoholic drinks in the bar later, I returned to the 110, to find the rest of the convoy had been in touch and were just about to arrive. When they did, it was in one van, as the remainder had been left in a secure compound. I was right about the hotel and we went in search of the correct one. We never found it, but we did locate one in the red light district of Hamburg. Reasonably cheap and you could park outside. I made sure the Low-Loc was fitted. We went to our various rooms then met in the foyer later to go in search of food and drink. McDonalds and Burger King were in evidence, along with a selection of pizza houses and some places with pictures of naked ladies outside. The girls in the area were very chatty, as were some of the blokes!

The following morning, we ensured everyone was together before heading off towards the docks. We arrived there about six hours before our due time, so Robb and I went for a walk back up into the main street of Hamburg and wandered around the shops, indulging in cakes and such delights, before returning to the docks. Whilst most of the convoy members stayed in their vehicles, Robb, Phil and myself discovered the Scandinavia Seaways hospitality lounge which was warm, had a small cafe, toilets and a view over the river. So we drank coffee and watched the ships pass by.

About half an hour before our boarding time, we ambled back to the vehicles and waited to board. There was a sudden burst of activity, passports were shown and we were aboard. It was a very calm sailing and much of the time was spent in the bars, eating, watching the cabaret or in the disco. All too soon, the English coast was spotted and shortly after, it was time to disembark. This was delayed somewhat by a Montego that didn't want to play and had to be pushed out of the way. Ultimately, we left the ferry and drove down the ramp towards customs. We were waved past and parked up alongside the remainder of the convoy. Ray Monteith-Smith from Trailmasters was there to greet us as promised and after a brief conversation, I popped over to the ferry shop to replace a translation book that had been given away. By the time I returned, the Avon Landrover Services110 was alone in the car park. The remainder of the convoy had left. As usual. At least, we had said our farewells on the ferry.

There was now just Robb, Phil and myself to head back up to North Wales. We called at Aceville in Colchester on the way back, before picking up the motorway system. One final problem was a noise from one of the wheels, which turned out to be a foreign object stuck in it. After it was changed, we enjoyed a quiet ride back home, with no banter over the CB!