My tuxedo lay crumpled in a corner of my tent, a silk ascot thrown to one side. Outside the tent, which had gotten quiet barely five hours before came alive with music and voices.

The launch party was over, but the effects of the night continued to plague the camp.

Young men began breaking down their tents, top hats and white shirts askew. Women in cocktail dresses wandered into the morning sunshine. As a group, the Mongol Rally participants were a bit ragged. But we set about camp with a glimmer in our eyes.

Today was the start of the Mongol Rally.

We felt alive. We felt good. The hangovers wouldn't set in for another couple hours. They wouldn't hit until the ferry to Calais.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This blog post begins driving to Bodiam Castle. This castle, dating to the 1300s, never served as a strategic stronghold. Because of its tactically poor position, it remained intact, not being attacked or bombed. So the walls, towers, and moat all look absolutely brilliant.

This was the start line for this year's Mongol Rally.

When we arrived, smiling Brits waved us onto the field, joining dozens of other cars, motorcycles, and one yellow school bus. The Brits smiled, knowing that they would shortly be returning to their own beds and not trying to drive around a third of the world.

More cars joined all afternoon and evening. Teams hail from all around the world. Notably, a great many Australians and people from San Francisco rocked up. Teams from Romania and Finland came. The cars are brilliant. We hope to get some good photos up soon. Although this is proving hard, since neither iPad nor Fire has an SD slot.

As evening fell, the tuxedos and gowns came out. A surprising amount of teams paid attention to the call to black tie. Embarrassingly, as a group, we were better dressed than, say, your average opera goer in Seattle.

Walking into the castle, across the moat was a treat. An orchestra played softly in the corner, and mead flowed freely from jugs.

Classy adventuring. It's a British tradition that your ralliers take very seriously.

However, 500 people can only party in a castle for so long without the people from the National Trust starting to look nervous. We were shuffled back to our camp, where a band struck up, shenanigans started, and large piled of empty beer bottles stacked.

I am quite dissappointed in my teammates, who disappeared around nine o'clock, not to be seen until the next morning. This forced me tto circulate the camp, drink layers, and find exciting teams to meet.

But the next morning, at a truly ungodly hour (that is, before 10), we convened ti drink some tea.

And this was tea to ring down through the ages. A cup of tea that roused the soul after too little sleep. Tea that gave strength to the limbs. Tea that cuddled the brain, telling it everything would be ok.

Tea was drank. Engines were started. We drove across the start line of the rally, I slipped on my driving loafers, cashmere and calfskin driving gloves, put Gunther on the CD player, and started the drive East.