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Sometimes plans do not always work out. That was the case on our final research trip to Ikh Bogd. I had planned many activities but weather, health and the nomadic lifestyle of the people I was researching were all against us this time.

As we slowly climbed the steep rocky tracks into the mountains we should have taken heed of the warning signs. First we passed the door of a Russian jeep hanging from a pile of rocks at the edge of a steep precipice. Then we caught up with another Russian jeep just as it belched out a dying plume of black smoke. It was loaded floor to ceiling with components of a summer ger, with stove and other parts hanging off the roof and back of the car. In the front seats were 5, not so small Mongolians. After stopping to share news, Enkhee took pity on the vehicle and helped coax it back to life and then we took pity on the two women in the family and gave them a lift to their destination just another kilometre up hill. We were originally going to camp near this family but there was not a flat piece of dung or rock free ground nearby so we continued further up the valley to camp near Battogoo. Surrounding his ger was a smooth green meadow – ideal we thought.

I have now got more used to judging the character of Mongolian dogs and although Battogoo had four only one had to be avoided and I soon made friends with the other shaggy hounds. Nyamaa on the other hand refused to get out of the car until they had gone. Here in the mountains these dogs are a necessary deterrent to wolves. Wolves had taken one of Battogoo’s baby yaks a couple of nights ago so his wife was milking the loansome mother.

As we pitched the tent at nearly 3000metres, I felt decidedly ill with a hot swollen throat so soon bedded down to try to sleep it off. But it was not to be as soon after dark all of the dogs around started barking, including the dogs from another ger across the valley who decided to examine my tent at regular intervals too. Later in the night a storm blew in adding to the commotion and battering our tents on the exposed hillside. There is a story that Ikh Bogd mountains are not kind to foreigners and I could believe it.

I had promised to wake up early to help with milking the goats but at 6 am the rain was still lashing down and our family weren’t stirring so instead I eventually fell asleep. When I did get up the clouds were barely above our heads and the higher slopes were totally lost in mist. Our plan for the morning was to drive 4-5 kilometres to meet a household I wanted to interview. But 4-5 kilometres across mountain slopes in thick fog on tracks barely able to take a motorbike, let alone a jeep was impossible. Instead I went back to sleep to wait for the Environmental Officer and maybe accompany him on a drive. I was woken about midday by the noise of a jeep and Batsuuri with four other rangers emerged. My throat felt about to burst and, although I would have loved to have joined their expedition, we were not prepared for two days walking and camping at altitude so sadly I watched them drive off into the cloud. Instead we abandoned the mountains for the warmer and sunnier lowland.

To compensate for the disappointment, we arranged for a day walking in the Ikh Bogd protected area later that week and Batsuuri once more came along to guide us. This time, instead of taking the vehicle up the difficult mountain roads, we approached the reserve along a river valley. Enkhee skilfully negotiated our vehicle through a boulder field along tracks that had partly been washed away by the recent rain. Then we set off on foot along the valley picking up a young local girl as another guide. She took great delight in chattering away to me even though I barely understood a word. I was once more intrigued by the range of flowers that were growing along the way and took numerous photos. After a brief stop at a summer ger for lunch of dried goat meat and noodles, we carried on to a small waterfall, crossing and recrossing the stream as we went. Finally we reached a narrow gorge and splashed in the ice cold water under the falls. It was a beautiful day and exhilarating to be in the fresh air but after many weeks with little exercise I was very stiff the next day.

Our time was finally running out and, with a workshop to plan and presentations of our work to give, I decided to concentrate on preparations that for a few days. Five years ago there was no electricity let alone any internet communication in Bogd, now I was able to talk to Caroline in Leicester through Skype so that we could arrange the workshop activities. Nyamaa, in particular put her organisational skills into practice. Through the government office we arranged a workshop for up to 50 people, including donor organisations and leaders of herder groups in Bogd and Guchin Us to attend. Just timing the event proved difficult as early July is the time of naadam, a national festival, and the dates of this kept shifting and therefore so did our plans.

The guests from Guchin Us planned to drive over on the morning of the 5th to get to Bogd in time for lunch and the workshop. However, a river hindered their path so, when 3 hours after they were due they had not appeared, Enkhee and others headed off along the road to look for them. As we guessed they had got stuck in the mud. However, finally the workshop started and was a success: a good showcase for our research, an opportunity for people from two different soums to learn from each other and to meet representatives from a number of donor organisations. The formation of herder groups to cooperate together on improving livestock and environmental management and diversify their income generating activities is important to help them cope with rapidly changing climate and environmental conditions. It has also become a part of government policy so our workshop was useful for everyone to exchange ideas.

In the evening we gave a thank you feast of Khorkhog to all the people who had helped us. Khorkhog is a special meal of goat meat boiled with whole root vegetables in a pan with river stones to tenderise the meat. So after the meeting finally ended we all headed to the riverside just as the sun set. Bowls of meat and vegetables were served washed down with coca cola or vodka. I gave a toast to thank everyone and, as tradition dictated, downed my glass of vodka in one go.

At last the day came for us to leave Bogd. I was ready to go home yet sad to leave this beautiful place with its varied landscapes and kind and friendly people. I have made many friends in Mongolia and would like to thank them all for their kindness and generosity. We woke at 5am and were joined by a few friends for breakfast of goat meat dumpling and tea soup (I had muesli). At 6 am we drove off from our hotel in the rain, only to stop on the hilltop opposite to share a bottle of vodka in parting. It is the first time I have ever drunk at that time in the morning and Nyamaa and I both slept for a good part of the journey afterwards.

In the fourteen hour journey back to UB it was lovely to see how the steppes had turned from brown to lush green. Horses and foals grazed peacefully and many soums we passed were evidently preparing for naadam. Sadly I shall miss this festival as my flight leaves the day before it starts in UB but I am returning to the UK for my own naadam, my PhD graduation ceremony.

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