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Published: November 19th 2006
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Well, we survived our journey into the abyss, with everything intact, and a little bonus body odour to boot.
The Mongolian countryside is everything that the capital is not: clean, spectacular, beautiful, breathtaking and well worth another visit. At times we felt so far removed from our current residence that the only commonality was the blistering cold and wind (which began on the day we departed).
Day 1 saw us bump out of the city in a brick-shaped Russian military style van, in the capable hands of our driver, Bazaraa (whom we soon renamed Red, after Morgan Freeman from "The Shawshank Redemption" - gentle, wise and street smart, with a killer smile) and our guide Sukhee, who sported a whopping black eye from the violent mugging he suffered the night before. Our travel buddies were Andreas, a 6"3' Swiss IT / mountaineering giant and Christine, the Irish volunteer journalist for the Mongol Messenger. In the 6 or 7 hours of driving we had ahead of us, our first stop was the most memorable. We'll never forget the heart-stoppingly cold wind that assaulted us at the top of a rise overlooking the frozen, dusty landscape. The stop was just for
a wee, but it was quite the experience, given that any liquid that hit the ground was frozen on impact.
Each night we stayed in the traditional round felt gers (yurts) of nomadic families. Sometimes we had their spare ger for the 6 of us, and on other nights, we all slept in together with the family. This usually meant being crammed in like sardines on the floor, each encased in our 3 sleeping bags. One night we were lucky enough to stay in a monk's ger inside the walls of a rural monastery. It was a tiny ger, but very cosy, and we had the chance to quiz the young monk about his life there, as we huddled by the stove in the candlelight.
Day 2 took us to The Flaming Cliffs at Bayanzag...famous for the discovery of multitudes of dinosaur bones in the 1920s. Apart from the stunning scenery, the highlight of this stop was our camel ride around the foot of the cliffs early the next morning. The camels have 2 humps here, so it was like having a nice warm backrest and a fuzzy handlebar. Later, the view from the top of the cliffs
was what we'd imagine the Grand Canyon would be like. From Flaming Cliffs to the perpetually frozen ice gorge at Yoliin Am, in the mountains. It was an odd thing...skating downhill on a frozen stream through the gorge...cliffs, ice, circling vultures and little else. A little surreal.
We should mention at this point the bathroom facilities for the duration of our trip....
After plenty of bouncing over vast empty plains, we came to the Moltzog sand dunes at the end of Day 4. We were once again assaulted by nature...this time a constant wind-driven wall of sand. Taking refuge on lower ground were a herd of very photogenic wild camels, seductively batting their gorgeously long eyelashes. As the sun was setting, we chugged through completely uninhabited places, and it seemed a bit touch and go as to whether we would find a family for the night. When we reached the crest of a hill and a ger came into sight, we all cheered, and in no time, we were taken in by a lone goat herder. His wife and daughter arrived home at 1.30am.
Day 5 we did a lot of sitting in the car and gazing
Dunny stop
This was luxury... there was one! out at the ever-changing scenery. We stumbled across a mother cooking bortzog (traditional deep fried cookies) in her isolated ger and decided to stay for lunch. As we ate our picnic (and some cookies), a constant stream of family members emerged and obligingly posed for (and later requested) photos. Upon seeing themselves instantly on the digital camera, the family seemed to grow even more. Although the photos were a bit stony-faced, in reality they were an extremely happy and welcoming bunch.
By now we had left the harsh desert environment for the equally spectacular mountain ranges about 400km west of the capital. This is where we began to appreciate the ubiquitous Mongolian postcard scene, driving past snow covered mountains, fronted by wind swept plains and yak drawn carts. This was the night in the monastery - before dinner we trekked (some further than others) up the mountain behind the temple to catch a glimpse of what promised to be (but wasn't) a special mountainous sunset. The view from the top did however more than make up for the rather disappointing solar display. We eventually drifted off into a peaceful slumber to the calming, meditative voices of Red and the
monk talking quietly in the cosy candlelight.
The next day was Kharhorin, the ancient capital. Not much is left after the communist purges of the 1930s except some stone turtles and a rebuilt monastery. It was a bit hard to fully appreciate the intricate art works, as losing toes to frostbite was a definite and looming possibility.Then it was off to the Mongol Els - via Cock Rock - to play in more sand dunes before returning to the city. Advised by our host yak herders that there was a lake over yonder, the smelly, stinky bunch that we were headed off into the sand dunes in search of the promised oasis. An hour later, pants clogged with sand, we delightedly stumbled onto (yes, onto) the frozen lake. We frolicked, slid and waltzed (yes, waltzed) around the beautiful thick ice, just like Torvill and Dean. Foolishly we thought it'd be a good idea if we all jumped in unison to test the strength of the early season freeze.
1, 2, 3 jump... nothing...
AGAIN!!!
1, 2, 3 jump...BOOM! CRACK! SPLASH, FLAIL, PANIC, SCRAMBLE, FLAIL, GIGGLE, PANIC SOME MORE.
We were then left, post sunset, in
The HOLE!
Foolhardy, synchronised jumping left us frozen (literally) the middle of the Mongolian wilderness, wet (but not for long) from the waist down, to walk the 30 minutes back to our ger in -20 degrees. Mid-walk we discovered that our pants had transformed into rigid, cardboard-like sheets of ice. The water in our boots was more like ice slushies by the time we got back to the rapturous laughter of our guide, driver and hosts. New clothes, borrowed shoes and a spot by the stove had us proudly retelling and exaggerating our foolishness in no time. We revisited "the hole" again in the morning for a brief photo stop and another giggle. Then with heavy hearts for what lay ahead, we set out, via one final mountain climb (higher than Kosziusko and still in borrowed boots), for UB.
In case you're still wondering or haven't guessed about the Gobi's bathroom facilities, we saw not one shower, bath or tap for 8 days. The whole trip was full of fascinating and challenging toilet experiences. Often there were pit/squat shacks built about 100metres or so from the ger, usually with no door and excellent "ventilation" through the walls. These were the welcomed, luxury nights, as much of the toileting
was performed amid rocky or sandy plains, with no privacy or shelter and occasionally with a 4-legged spectator. The frozen spires of crap in the pits were sometimes quite impressive and at night we were always grateful for the headlamp as defense against the lurking wolves.
We returned rather smelly but very impressed and already beginning to plan our next adventure into the spectacular Mongolian countryside.
Stay tuned...
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