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Adventure Travel

Aug 23, 2016

How to Drive a Mercedes-Benz Unimog

Behind the wheel of Mercedes-Benz’s legendary all-wheel-drive off-road expedition trucks in Germany’s Black Forest, PLUS a fireside chat with Gunther Holtorf, who’s put in a million kilometers on his trusty 1988 G-wagen, driving to nearly every country in the world.

WRITTEN BY

Apoorva Prasad

When Daimler invited me to Stuttgart over a weekend to go on a drive to the Black Forest in Germany, I couldn’t say no – especially when I learnt that we’d get a chance to test the legendary Unimog off-road truck on a test track in Ötigheim.

Accompanied by mostly German car and adventure travel journalists, we headed out to the Unimog Museum for a briefing – where we also met our companion for the trip, legendary traveler Gunther Holtorf, who’s driven nearly a million kilometers in his trusty G-wagen “Otto”, to nearly every single country in the world.

 

I’d gotten a fantastic introduction to the off-road capabilities of the G-wagen during my desert drive in Namibia in a month before. However, I’d never driven a Unimog before.

The Unimog
The Unimog (or “Mog”, as its aficionados call it) is a compact, highly maneuverable, all-wheel drive, off-road truck, used for special purposes in everything from the military, to adventures and expeditions worldwide, to extreme motorsport events like the Dakar Rally. Its all-wheel drive, flexible frame/suspension and very high ground clearance (portal gears allow the axles to be higher than the centre of the wheel) – allow the truck to be driven over meter-tall boulders, over ice, through deserts and forests (literally over tree trunks) and rivers.

At the museum we got a first look at our convoy: expedition Unimogs with fully-livable campers (from Merex, a specialist Unimog service-provider and builder); a Zetros; a G-class; and the new Sprinter van and V-class (great for surf trips!). All were fitted out for sleeping in overnight in the rolling hills of southern Germany’s Black Forest region.

We got a jaw-dropping introduction to the capabilities of these off-road trucks at the testing ground – their professional driver leisurely drove the vehicles up and down on everything from 60% to 110% gradients. Then, with no second thoughts, we watched as the trucks were driven in reverse up a stairway.

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After a while, it became like watching a video game – the “Mogs” and Zetros were driven over boulders, through bombshell craters, meter-deep waterways, and obstacle courses that would literally break the spine of any other vehicle.

Check out the following pictures to see the incredible articulation and suspension of the Mog.

Finally, I got a chance to get behind the wheel of the incredible off-road truck. It felt surprisingly easy to drive, with three diff locks which one could engage as needed, automated tire-control systems and a lot more I wasn’t familiar with. Modern “Mogs” have a surprising amount of electronics in it, just like the G-classes I drove a month before in Namibia. I climbed into the cabin, adjusted my seat, and followed the instructor’s guidance. The Mog practically drove itself, and I found myself climbing up steep inclines and terrain that would have been difficult to walk on, let alone drive. I began to imagine the potential and possibilities for expeditions in remote regions of the world, as has been done before with these vehicles – from desert crossings to scientific expeditions and explorations.

German traveler Gunther Holtorf has driven just about 900,000 km in 26 years in the same trusty 1988 Mercedes-Benz 300GD G-wagen, which he named “Otto” because that’s what he’d call all his friends’ children. With his wife Christine (until her passing) Gunther's crossed the Amazon jungle through Guyana; been the only westerner to drive across North Korea (under strict escort); across Russia twice; and discovered that India was “the world’s biggest open-air museum”. A third of the odometer was done on unsurfaced roads or tracks, and the entire around-the-world trip was self-funded, apart from service and technical support from Mercedes and the occasional diplomatic interventions! Photo: Apoorva Prasad/ The Outdoor Journal
German traveler Gunther Holtorf has driven just about 900,000 km in 26 years in the same trusty 1988 Mercedes-Benz 300GD G-wagen, which he named “Otto” because that’s what he’d call all his friends’ children. With his wife Christine (until her passing) Gunther’s crossed the Amazon jungle through Guyana; been the only westerner to drive across North Korea (under strict escort); across Russia twice; and discovered that India was “the world’s biggest open-air museum”. A third of the odometer was done on unsurfaced roads or tracks, and the entire around-the-world trip was self-funded, apart from service and technical support from Mercedes and the occasional diplomatic interventions! Photo: Apoorva Prasad/ The Outdoor Journal

For us at The Outdoor Journal, sustainability is our top concern. We realize the need for vehicles in our daily lives as well as for global adventures but we always want to find out more. Modern Mogs are Euro-6 compliant and are constantly engineered to evolve with time.

We realize the need for vehicles in our daily lives as well as for global adventures but we always want to find out more. Photo: Apoorva Prasad/ The Outdoor Journal
We realize the need for vehicles in our daily lives as well as for global adventures but we always want to find out more. Photo: Apoorva Prasad/ The Outdoor Journal

So are we going to see a hybrid or electric Unimog? Mercedes did just release a first-of-its-kind fully-electric 26-tonne urban truck last month. Hopefully this is a trend that will also eventually percolate down to this very hardy 60-year-old outdoor off-road platform.

Feature Image: The Unimog’s “home” is in Gaggenau, where it was first manufactured, and from there we drove further south into the Black Forest or Schwarzwald, the legendary, haunted, deeply forested hills that form a historic border region between France, Switzerland and Germany © Apoorva Prasad/ The Outdoor Journal

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Oct 01, 2018

The Forbidden Zone: Mongols, to Your Horses

The rolling green hills, rocky passes, flower-laden meadows and clear streams of Gorkhi Terelj National Park in northern Mongolia is the birthplace of the Mongols. The Outdoor Journal spent a week on horseback with Stone Horse Expeditions in the heart of this country’s vast wilderness.

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WRITTEN BY

Apoorva Prasad

Tdrihe Khan Khentii mountains stretched before us, from one end of the azure sky to the other. Tegri, the Great Sky God, watched us with his infinite panorama. From here, I could see miles and miles into the distance. This was the “Forbidden Zone”, that unknown wilderness where Genghis Khan was born. As a child and then again much later on, he hunted here, his true home, on a horse, sheltered in a ger or under the blue sky. When he was a boy, exiled with his family into the cold and harsh wilderness of the northern Mongolian hills, his only friends were what these lands contained. After he built an empire and died, it became a sacred and taboo zone, left to the deer and wolves. For decades the area had been closed off. The Soviets enforced it as a Highly Restricted Area to allow them to do what they wished with it – from logging and military exercises, to also countering any potential rise of Mongolian nationalism around the great Khan. Despite those years, the Area remained wild.

No wonder the Mongols worshipped it.

A day before, we had crossed fresh bear tracks. There were no signs of human presence apart from our train of horses and riders. And now, this vista lay in front of us, green and yellow grassy hills, long valleys, meadows of flowers stretching to higher mountains all the way to Siberia, some still snow-dusted despite the summer sun. Burkhan Khaldun stood further behind higher peaks. And that incredible sky. No wonder the Mongols worshipped it. We all lived once under this blue infinity. As we’d ridden northwards away from Ulan Bator, the city’s pollution had faded away long ago, the gray curse had lifted and my eyes had once again accustomed themselves to what they had evolved to do – see long distances, look for hares, deer, bears, navigate passes and ford streams, climb rocks, and watch falcons circle on thermals above. And over the last few days, we had done all these things.

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The weary horseriders arrive in the ger to refresh themselves.

We had left our last camp around mid-morning, some hours ago. One half of the party broke away to ride into another valley out west, while Keith and I wanted to ride up and to the pass in the range of hills that separated the Gorkhi Terelj from the Khan Khentii. We skirted the granite mounds which punctuated the ends of this valley, forded a marshy grassland below the campsite, fought off the bloodsucking horseflies that made our horses’ lives miserable for a little while, eventually entering a tall forest of larch and birch. The ground began to rise as we entered a narrow rocky trail that started to wind uphill. Jerry, my sturdy, stubborn little Mongolian horse plodded on. This easy gait was infinitely more comfortable than the long trots of our previous days in the saddle. Keith Swenson, a taciturn, the 64 year-old owner of Stone Horse Expeditions along with his wife Sabine Schmidt, showed none of the wear I felt – my skin of my thighs were quite literally raw after 50 kilometers of riding and trotting in the wilderness. After a few days Keith opened up with wisecracks. “People ask what do you do, and I say I’m a rider”, says Keith, punning on his American accent. “They think I mean ‘writer’, “and they ask, what have you written?” “So I say, Blackie, Brownie, Ol Dirty Face…”, naming his horses.

These lands, however remote, are important.

Halfway up the trail was a shaman’s totem, poles placed on the ground to make a conical structure, wrapped with bits of fabric and ribbons. But at the base, and near a tree, we also found broken shards of glass, vodka bottles drunk and thrown by unknown travelers who no longer respected their old ways. We’d been riding for an hour or so and we stopped for a short break in the little opening in the forest. It was quite warm in the strong sun, perhaps 30C like every day of the summer, but cold at nights, often dipping below freezing.

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These Mongolian horses play a huge role in making a trip across the steppe easy and fun for riders. Each horse has a unique personality. Big Dirty Face pictured here loves coffee and will drink it straight from your cup if you let him.

The Mongols invented the modern world*

The old ways are important. These lands, however remote, are important. The Mongols invented the modern world*. When, at the age of 55, Genghis Khan rode out into Asia and Europe, he created the largest empire known to humanity, as well as its first international postal system, and the largest free-flowing network of ideas, trade and culture. But today, Mongolia feels relatively isolated and far away, landlocked in the Eurasian continent. And getting there turned out to be a greater adventure than we’d expected. Instead of flying, we took the famous Trans-Mongolian from Beijing to Ulan Bator. At 11pm, the train pulled into the last station on the China-Mongolia border to change the undercarriage (the railway gauge is different in Mongolia). Three hours later we got back on the train and waited patiently for the Chinese guards to hand us all our passports back. Our intern’s passport was returned ripped from its cover. Before anyone could make a move, the train entered Mongolia… where the Mongolian border guard insisted that the 18-year old girl get off the train because she wasn’t allowed to enter on an invalid passport. Twenty minutes of arguing later, at nearly three am, we got off and watched the train leave without us.

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Mongolian cuisine is typically meat and dairy products. Vegans beware.

Fifteen hours later, after many phone calls and emails to various embassies and important officials, she was finally allowed to enter the country. The Trans-Mongolian having long gone, we finagled an eight-hour taxi ride across the great steppes (on a second-hand car coming off a goods train) for $45. Welcome to Mongolia.

REAL MEN TROT

I did not have much riding experience, but I usually don’t let a little thing like that deter me from a trip. Keith, once also a climber, agreed that anyone up for adventure would be perfectly fine on a Mongolian horse. They were sturdy and forgiving. We all gathered at their staging camp an hour’s drive from Ulan Bator – a Singaporean couple on their second trip with Stone Horse, their friend from Hong Kong, a French diplomat from Swaziland, our team of three, Keith, Sabine and their crew – Nyamaa, Buyana and Jackson, the American intern. Soon, our team of 16 horses and Stinky the Mongolian Dog, a most genuine companion if there ever was one, were off towards the north. Day one went reasonably well, with a short four hour ride to our first campsite inside the Gorkhi Terelj National Park. The other experienced riders asked me various questions about how I felt and whether my horse had cantered or galloped, and I said I didn’t know, but the horse seemed to know what it was doing. Apparently, they have many gaits.

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Nomads Yadmaa and Tavaasurn inside their summer ger, just outside Gorkhi Terelj.

I learned what that meant the next day.

The morning begins easily and we move along a gentle valley. At a stream, the horses bend to drink. They’re herd animals, comfortable only in their own numbers. Suddenly, there’s a commotion as one of the pack horses spooks and bolts. We’re unprepared, and good old Jerry decides to follow the bolting horse too, suddenly turning 180 degrees and galloping wildly. I have to pull firmly on the reins to stop him, while the teamsters have to get the other fella back. He’s bucking around wildly, his unshod feet stamping, his grass-eating brain telling him that that bee sting he felt on his hind was a wolf’s nip. Stinky ignores the commotion, running ahead happily back in his favorite hunting grounds, chasing ground squirrels to their holes. We continue, entering a forest and then riding uphill to a pass. On the other side, a wide open valley, and our first real gallop. Now I feel the sensation, riding with the animal as one, gently cycling my feet in the stirrups and gripping with my knees, all of it coming naturally to me and I urge Jerry on, on, on. Chhoo, Jerry, Chhoo! We stop at a babbling brook in the valley below where we wash our faces. Are we in paradise?

And then the long trot begins. For a horse, it’s the most comfortable way to move. But it’s bouncy. I try to “post” like all the real riders. Watching me grimace in agony, Keith smiled and said, “real men trot,” as he rode along comfortably with that rolling ankle movement to compensate for the horse’s bumpy ride. “Trotting is how the Mongols moved such vast distances. If you make him gallop, you won’t get very far, you’ll kill the horse”.

a melting pot of humanity and ethnicities

But Mongolia changed the course of human history since long before the great Khan and his riders, the ultimate, self-sufficient soldiers. Apart from the Mongols, it is also the original homeland of the Huns and the Turks. It is a melting pot of humanity and ethnicities, where thousands of years ago two language families met and separated – the Indo-Europeans and the Altaics – and possibly where the wild horse was first tamed, thereby changing the course of history. When men on horses first raced out of Central Asia, first ancient Mesopotamia, then Egypt fell. Europe’s original ‘mother culture’ and India’s Harappan civilization disappeared. Humans, moving incredible distances on horses, spread across Asia, from the western end of Europe to Korea, all the way down to Arabia and India, creating nearly all the cultures we know today. Some of the languages they spoke evolved today into English, and others evolved into Japanese, but some of their words have become so intermingled that it’s hard to distinguish which came from which. Hindi is an Indo-European language, but today the common Hindi word for “home” is “ghar” (from the Sanskrit “grhá”) which is nearly identical to the Altaic Mongolian’s word for home, ger.

When the Hunnu (“Huns”) fought the Chinese Hans, the clans that lost fled towards Europe, creating Hungary, as well as leading to the downfall of the Western Roman Empire. Centuries later, the Turkics originally from the Mongolian steppes came hurtling into Constantinople, wiping out the Eastern Roman Empire.

We ride through rocky hills and rock formations, up and down defiles, over passes and across shallow streams, through meadows of flowers and knee-high grass. We ride all day, and every evening set up our traveling camp like the Mongols of old. We sleep in modern-day lightweight tents, under trees or under the stars, breathing cold clear air, drinking from fresh rain-fed streams, eating atop rocks while falcons circle above and the horses graze.

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The Stone Horse team from left to right – Jackson, Keith, Buyana, Nyamaa and Sabine.

The world has continued to change, but horses and men will forever ride together.

One day we stretched out the ride to reach a farther campsite, a Hunnu gravesite. We set up our tents atop 2000-year old graves, low mounds of stones marking the places where men, women, children and horses were laid to rest. “I believe that these people would have loved us to be here, living like they did,” said Keith. When they hear our horses, they’ll feel alive”. The next morning, I pulled my horse off to a side and to a vantage point to shoot the group riding further down the valley. Jerry stomped and neighed angrily as the herd passed him by, but I held him back. When the group disappeared into the distance, I quickly packed my camera gear back into the saddlebags. Then jumping back on, I let the horse fly as he wished, back to his herd. Jerry, the funny but tough little horse, galloped madly a mile north over the gently rising slope. Our hooves rang out in the valley, as two large round mounds, Hun graves, emerged in front on the mountainside. Neither Jerry nor I needed to veer, and we galloped directly over the centre of the mounds, the sound of our hoofbeats gladdening passed Hunnu souls. Their ancestors, our ancestors, had once tamed wild horses, and together changed the world. The world has continued to change, but horses and men will forever ride together.

Images by Madhuri chowdhury.

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