Our problem with these definitions is that none of them are based on scientific observation. It would seem that the Mongolian Clusterfuck is as folkloric as the Tooth Fairy or a maintenance-free Austin Montego.

People who have claimed witness to an “MC” are as reliable as those people who claimed to have been visited by aliens but didn’t have a mobile phone handy. Most likely it was a good old fashioned calamity or utter fiasco. 

And so our mission was set. Extreme Trifle would be the first humans to capture a Mongolian Clusterfuck on film. Not the grainy, fuzzy sort of footage where you’re not sure if it’s a Bigfoot or a shag pile carpet propped up against a fence. This was going to be the real deal. It goes without saying that this had to occur in Mongolia. Otherwise it’s merely an average clusterfuck like “Call Centre Clusterfuck” or “Parking Ticket Clusterfuck”, and that just won’t do.

Bubonic plague you say

And so Extreme Trifle crossed continents in the latest instalment of the “Wrong Way Round” series of motorcycle escapades.  To go where nomads and goats have been before in search of a bona fide, real deal, proper Mongolian Clusterfuck. The signs were already good. Not all of us were on the right flight and the whole trip hinged on someone 5,500 miles away, who we’d never met, turning up with the Chinese mopeds we ordered.

We rode Chinese hybrids (part motorcycle, part rocking horse) across Mongolia. It’s known as the “land of eternal blue skies”. We discovered this is a blatant lie or how else do you explain the sky turning brown in sandstorms, dark grey in thunderstorms and very black at night.

Then factor in a few slight oversights for travel jabs in areas that still have outbreaks of Bubonic plague and suddenly the prospect of getting the shits from stir fried yak’s testicles washed down with fermented mare’s milk seemed a mere hiccup.

But hey, as we all know, bad decisions make good stories.

FULL BLOG AND VIDEO COMING SOON (ISH)