Yak03 and Khentii…
On Monday morning we took off for the Khan Khentii Mountains, the ancestral home of a certain G. Khan and clan. Our crew: Anka the guide, Mary and Kaz from Philly, Tuunga the cook, the driver, and I. Escaping the sprawl of UB proved surprisingly easy – minutes outside the city you’re in empty spaces. It felt good to get away from the general dreariness of UB – although the city does have its charms, not all of them lamb-related.
As we reached the Terelj National Park region it felt a bit like slipping into Mordor – there was everything and nothing all round us, quite humbling to be honest. We drove onward to the Khentii Strictly Protected Area – Mongolia has several of these areas, in which hunting and fishing are prohibited, at least officially.
The weather was worsening as we drove. I later learned that a serious storm had come up, a bit to the east of us, and that we were only coming across the edge of it. The storm ended up causing serious loss of life and property – 52 people died, 200,000 livestock perished, and 150 or so gers were demolished. Not a good day by any means.
The number of livestock was unbelievable – far exceeding anything I’d seen in New Zealand or other places. We also passed by a huge aluminum statue of Chinggis Khan – apparently they’re putting up some sort of hotel there.
We eventually reached Jalman Meadows, a ger camp owned and run by Nomadic Journeys, my tour operator. We dropped off a few Swedes who planned to chill there for a few days; then we got our packs and put them on a couple carts that were soon hitched to some fucking huge yaks. This trip was called ‘Yak03,’ Nomadic Journeys runs a few different fixed-date tours, this Yak Tour as well as a Gobi Camel Tour (see my next entry for that). It’s a bit early in the ‘summer,’ and the first 3 Yak and Camel Tours are discounted by 15%. The reasoning became immediately obvious to us when it began to snow. As we and our yaks (and 3 horses) embarked, the winds and snow were hitting us hard and Mary, Kaz and I looked at each other in disbelief. ‘Mongolian summer,’ I said, ‘don’t forget your gloves.’
Good thing I bought all that crap at Decathlon in Shanghai – gloves, sleeping bag liner, extra socks, etc. I used every single item over the next 10 days and without them I would have been in sad shape.
Mary, Kaz and I walked while the yaks pulled the carts, loaded down with our stuff, food, tents, and the ger materials. The yaks were lead by Ganaa, while the 3 horses were lead by Erdenee. These two guys were absolutely classic – Ganaa with his missing teeth and rakishly floppy hat, Erdenee playing the role of a Mongolian John Wayne. More on these guys shortly.
We soon came to the river – the Tuul River, methinks – and we sat on the yak carts and the yaks walked right through the water without missing a beat. Crikey, those beasts are powerful. We saw very few other folks, just a couple gers with sheep out to pasture. I felt like ducking into a ger and getting some airag (fermented mare’s milk), but Anka our guide told me that the airag-making wasn’t to commence until mid-June. Yum yum…
I took an immediate liking to Mary and Kaz – they’re both experienced campers and are quite wordly. Mary is a second-generation Chinese-American, married to a third-generation Japanese fellow, and Kaz is a good mix of the two cultures. We laughed as the snow came down – and we soon came up with various mantras for our Yak03 trip, mostly centered on American idiots coming to Mongolia too early in the season.
Our guide was just fair, to be frank. We had to pull information out of her, and it wasn’t simply her so-so English – she didn’t seem particularly knowledgeable or energetic. Her most important contribution was as translator – since very few Mongolians speak any English. Oh well. It’s truly difficult to have the perfect group dynamic on trips like these – the best I ever had was on our 1992 Indian Himalaya trip, when friend Jan and I hiked with Raja and Tapa and we were all young men with a shared raunchy sense of humor. Anyway, Mary, Kaz and I got on very well and I really wasn’t missing friend John at all.
That night, Monday night, we slept in the ger, as it was large and it was shockingly cold outside. After cooking dinner the ger was cozy and no one felt like putting up tents and braving the outdoors. Mongolian summer, indeed!
I slept just OK – had neglected to use my parka as a pillow, and I couldn’t get comfortable the entire night. At least it was fairly warm – I suppose I managed to get a few hours shut-eye.
Tuesday was terrific – we hiked all day across the steppes and into some taiga forest areas. I rode a horse, for the first time in years, and it felt appropriate to be covering the Mongolian terrain on horseback. I don’t want to claim that I felt like a Mongol warrior, but when the horse got into a fast trot my chest did swell with excitement. As far as the eye could see, there were no people and just a few animals – we could have been striding and riding across the Mongolian steppes 800 years ago. The views and fresh air were positively therapeutic – not that I’m in need of therapy, per se, but getting out of UB and into the country was a real no-brainer.
Assorted pics from the trip – scenery, people, animals:
That afternoon, when we made camp, I found that my camera’s internal memory had a bunch of scuba photos from my recent Philippines trip. I showed Ganaa (the yak herder) and Erdenee (the horseman) these photos, and it blew their minds. Mongolia is land-locked, and most people have never seen the ocean. The giant sea turtles and corals – the lads could scarcely believe these things existed. Funny how things that you don’t think much about are eye-popping to others…
That night, we got Anka to teach us a local song – she thought for a while, then came up with a short, popular ditty that went like this:
Khuurkhun borlog morieroo
Khondiig tuularkh saikhansan
Khugshin buural eejiigee
Khundlen asrakh saikhansan
(cyrilic letters substituted for here)
In English, it goes something like this:
It’s a wonderful feeling to go across beautiful landscape
On a good brown horse
It’s a wonderful feeling to take care of
My most beloved, old, graying mother.
The two things Mongolians treasure the most: their mothers and their horses. Fair enough.
We must have chanted this song dozens of times over the Yak03 and Camel03 trips – all locals know the tune and they found our attempts hilarious. We obviously didn’t have the pronunciation and melody down right, by any means. But they appreciated our willingness to try. We thought about trying to reciprocate – but only Anka had any English proficiency and we couldn’t come up with a mutually-agreeable short song beyond stupid nursery rhymes and kiddy songs. I did lead the American gang in ‘American Pie’ but that was a real stretch.
A bit about Mongolian horses, by the way. They’re compact, but very strong and very independent. I wouldn’t be too happy see a herd of them coming my way, with Mongol warrior wearing those pointy hats and carrying swords. No wonder they got all the way to Austria…
Slept better that night – rolled up my parka and that made a decent pillow. When I got up, though, it turned out to be an overcast, crappy day. Ganaa had gone out to a family’s ger not far away and got us fresh cow milk – quite a treat. So light and tasty, haven’t had fresh milk in ages…
Erdenee usually walked or rode out in front of us as we trekked. The dude walked at an incredible clip – a lot like Robin, my Sikh guide in Kalaw, Burma. Robin was a bit pudgy and didn’t look like much, but I couldn’t keep up with him. Same with Erdenee – he walked with his hands clasped behind his back, like some sort of priest. The prototypical Mongolian superman – a master horseman, a great ger setup man, you name it.
I rode again that day – but after 45 minutes my horse suddenly sat down on me. I got off and walked, and Kaz got on that horse after a bit. My hypothesis was that I was too heavy for the horse and he didn’t like me…but he sat down on Kaz after 30 minutes, so I felt vindicated. Kaz is a skinny 19-year-old, so the weight can’t really have been the issue. Erdenee’s point of view was that the horse was just tired – they get skinny during the winter (no grass, so they need to eat hay), and in early summer there’s still not much new, green grass, so the horses aren’t at full strength yet. That sounds about right.
I got on another horse later that day – the brother of the horse who sat down. I came to realize that horses, like many animals, have real, distinct personalities. My new horse liked to eat, and he was constantly putting his head down to eat grass and branches. I generally let him, feeling a bit bad at the sight of his ribs showing.
When my horse had a good feeding, he’d raise his head and look for his brother. A couple times we got far the group, and they’d be out of sight. My horse would get nervous and let out a loud whinny…and then trot quickly until he caught sight of his brother. Remarkable and funny – eat, lose the pack, run, and catch up. It was good to get that close to the animals and get a better sense of what they’re made of.
Had a picnic lunch, then took a siesta – the sun had come out and we snoozed for a half hour or so. That became our pattern each day. We walked, rode, ate, slept, and listened to the dramatic forces of nature – sometimes the wind blew across the steppe and came right at us.
Made camp that night in a valley – not exactly shielded from the winds, but good enough. Spent the evening playing an odd card game, a sort of Mongolian rummy. Ganaa turned out to be a card shark and won most of the games. I lost most, of course. Kaz and Mary did pretty well. I guess I’m more of a chess player…
It was windy as hell that night and I slept badly. Sometimes camping is hard work, and I certainly do miss taking a hot shower in the morning, but it’s good for me to get out of my comfort zone and test myself from time to time. I’ve perhaps spent too much time in cities during this journey, and I should roll out the sleeping bag and strap on the hiking boots more often.
The horses were antsy and wanted to run; they were hobbled (legs were tied), and together they pranced and sprang up impatiently. Erdenee calmed them down and we had breakfast, then broke camp. The wind was so strong that the cover to the large water container went flying, like a Frisbee, and I had to run a hundred yards to track it down.
That day we stopped to visit a nomadic family in their ger. Not a poor clan by any means – they had a couple jeeps parked in front, a solar panel setup for their cable TV, and they owned 500 animals. Their ger was beautiful, with colorful cloth and nice furniture inside. The mother was a hard-working sort (like, I suspect, most Mongolian women – not many prima donnas here), and fed us various local specialties, including orkh, which are milk curds/proteins that a cow that’s just given birth produces. They’re a bit sweet and quite tasty – unlike anything I’ve ever had before. We also had some ‘hard yogurt’ and fruit, and lots of cups of milky Mongolian tea. All in all, a nice hour there.
Later in the day, we camped near a river. Soon afterward, we noticed that the female yak was missing. Ganaa and Erdenee rode off like cowboys to go find it. In Mongolia, a common countryside phrase is ‘Have you seen my [animal]?’ Apparently the yak ran all the way to Jalman Meadows, a few km away – where it spends most of its time. The lads came riding back with the yak running in front of them, a bit wild. Erdenee took out a rope and lassooed the beast on his first try. The Mongolian John Wayne, indeed.
We spent the balance of the afternoon hanging around, doing nothing. The sun had come out, which seemed to be a recurring pattern during this trip – cloudy cold mornings, warmer sunnier afternoons. The horses itched themselves, which involved them lying down (not something I’ve seen before) and rolling in the dirt and grass. Sometimes they rubbed against the other horses as well. As I mentioned earlier, the creatures really do have their own personalities.
That was the final night of this trip – the Nomadic Journeys driver showed up in advance, so that we could get an early start the next morning back to UB. I broke out my bottle of Chinggis vodka that night, to celebrate a great trip. We all got a couple shots and the stuff wasn’t bad. I’m generally not a vodka drinker (I prefer whiskey), but it wasn’t that nasty and the gang appreciated the gesture.
Slept fairly well that night in my tent – it was still cold out, but I was pretty tired and the vodka probably helped. Got up, broke camp after breakfast, and we got in the van to head back to UB. We took a group photo, here it is:
On the ride back, through Khentii, I saw in the distance a shepherd sitting in the vast open plain, watching his flock. At one point he stretched out and was lying down. Tough job.
The skies were blue – auguring well for our camel trip, which was starting the next morning. Not much time between trips to do laundry, etc., so it promised to be a hectic day back in the capital. Oh well. I’m used to getting lots done in short periods.
Went back by the huge aluminum Chinggis Khan statue again. Still impressive. Also passed by several sorry-looking basketball hoops – really, just metal rings up on poles/sticks, no nets or any other adornments. These appear to be strung out randomly across long distances – Kaz and I joked that the typical Mongolian hoops game had one-hour shot clocks and that the only two skills that matter are speed, to run the 5 km between baskets, and a strong arm, to throw the ball to a sprinting teammate. Height, shooting accuracy, etc. don’t matter here.
The roads in Mongolia – even those near UB – are awful. I believe they’re concrete, not asphalt, and are laid out in blocks, so that you’re always riding over breaks. One of these caused a bolt in the suspension to crack, and we stood by the side of the road for 45 minutes while our driver, Ashuy, fixed it. Mongolian men are quite handy. After he’d fixed it, we nicknamed him ‘Ashuy bataar,’ ‘hero,’ and he seemed to like that moniker.
Rode by Sukhbataar Square, where there was something going on. Later I heard that it was a welcome home ceremony for Mongolian soldiers who had just returned from Iraq. Yet another small nation strong-armed into joining the ridiculous ‘coalition of the willing.’ Apparently the Prime Minister and/or President gave a speech there. Sorry I missed it.
Got back to Zaya Hostel. Immediately did 2 things: 1) gave the housekeeper emergency laundry, which she got going – superb, and 2) took a long hot shower, which was refreshing beyond belief. Then did some shopping, scotch-taped a tear in my backpack raincover, checked on my Russian visa (affirmative, ready on June 9, including Trans-Siberian train ticket to Moscow), and did 10 other things.
Had a quick bit at Xaanbuuz…while waiting for my food, got a call from Ken in London. He didn’t know where I was, I had just sent him my mobile # via text message. Sounded pretty surprised to hear that I was in Mongolia. His timing was great – this was the only day I’d have in UB for 10 days.
By 7 p.m. I was squared away. Got in touch with Kiwi buddies Johnny and Al, and we met at Dave’s Pub (randomly located just across the street from Parliament, in some sort of government edifice). Went to eat at BD’s Mongolian BBQ, which is an American chain centered in Detroit, of all places. They have 32 US locations and are actively expanding now. Great food – but far too easy to overeat and then feel like shit afterward.
Brought the boys over to Marco Polo, the local gent’s club, where we sat for only a few hours in full ogle mode. I sort of fancied one of the dancers and bought her a drink. Non-existent English, so we just smiled at each other and exchanged phone numbers, for some reason. Several beers deep after a few hours, Johnny offered me a job serving as marketing director for his/Al’s nascent jetboating company…probably the most appealing job offer I’ve ever had. We were all in our cups, as they say, and Johnny seemed to feel a bit squeamish about my reaction – the offer was unexpected and the venue was extraordinary, to say the least. Anyway, he knows I’m still in the middle of my travels, but I will keep this offer on the books.
Stumbled home to get a few hours sleep before the start of Camel03. I’ll stop here and get to that tale in my next entry. Over and out.
Tags: Travel
mbsloney
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