Think of this as the idiot’s guide to crossing half the planet by train: start with a duck dinner in Beijing, lose all faith in your Chinese skills, get roped into a smuggling ring you don’t understand, and nearly get deported in the middle of the night because you can’t read your own visa. Sprinkle in a few Mongolian herders with better mobile coverage than Paris, some vodka-fueled “picnics” that look more like frat-house scavenges, and a driver named Sergei who treats cliff edges like parking spots. If you’ve ever wondered how far bad planning, blind luck, and sheer stubbornness can carry you—this is that story.