October 4th and 5th: The Gobi Desert

I dreaded breakfast. Another meal of mutton and milk from whatever animal happened to be close, just wasn’t what felt like. So it came as a delightful, nay tremendous, relief when our hostess cooked fried egg and served it with pickled cucumber and something that looked like bits of hotdog. In the background, she was rolling dough and her husband was frying it. This was toast… A bit like a fried tortilla, warm and lovely with strawberry jam on it! I sipped my instant coffee and relished the warm ger and even warmer personalities around me.

It was fairlty cold outside. I’d venture to say, close to freezing. The sun was up (just) and the sky was smeared with clouds. Yesterdays breeze was more of a wind and it was stealing at least 10 degrees from what the thermometer said. Still… there was a camel ride planned and I wasn’t going to miss it. Camel riding in the Gobi is not something you pass up, when given the opportunity.

Camel rides here are guided. By that I mean the camels are tethered to each other - nose leash to rear hump - and walk very close to each other. Our 16 year old guide, a man of few words, in his most serious voice, warned us not drop anything from the camel because they are half wild and you don’t want to give them a fright. Alrighty then! Message sent. Message received.

For the next hour or so, dressed in our warmed gear, we bathed in the early light of a brisk autumn day in the south Gobi. Winter was coming and it was coming quickly. We were the last of the tourists for 2018 and you can bet your bottom dollar that just as soon as our van was out of sight today, those gers were going to be broken down and stored until the next tourist season… June 2019.

The plan for the rest of the day? To mix and mingle (kinda) with the other two van loads of folks our tour company had been bouncing around the Gobi. All three vans (7 tourists, total) drove away from the sand dunes around 9 am. We had a long drive ahead of us, with 120km of desert “roads” to maneuver before hitting paved road and going another 100 km or so.

Check out the well that we stopped to investigate before leaving the driest part of the Gobi. I had wondered how the herders watered their animals when water holes had dried up or frozen over.

We stopped for lunch in the only town that presented itself along the way. The one restaurant that was open was already feeding other people when we arrived. At first we were told they didn’t have the room or the food for us, but after a while, it seemed they scouted some food and were able to accommodate us, a few at a time.

Have I mentioned “Mongolian time”? It’s like African time, or Island time. No-one really cares about speed or schedule. They take your order when they are ready, they bring the food (cooked from scratch mostly) when it’s ready. If you get your food before your dinner date does, best you eat it before it gets cold because your friends meal could still be 40 minutes away. And getting the check? Well you can ask for it whenever you like, but they will deliver it when they deliver it. I found I could either learn to go with the flow, or learn to love feeling slighted by the people and/or culture. Hahaha. Vacations should be about slowing down anyway. I’m a little tightly wound most of the time, so this is an excellent exercise in patience, I suppose.

The Yol Valley was where we were going today. Our last stop in the Gobi, is a place that is so very different from the rest of the trip. For one thing, just when you thought the roads couldn’t get worse, they did. A LOT worse. There were times I wondered if our van would actually roll over as our driver negotiated a river bed and then what was left of the track after a river had eroded, rutted and basically destroyed it.

This area last had rain a month ago. Bucket-loads of rain on dry rocky ground. It ran in torrents across the land, filling little basins and carving new lines in the landscape. That 100km of paved road we had the pleasure of driving on today? Some of it had been completely undermined by the rushing water and chunks (a lane) of the road had been washed away. In true Mongolian style, they put some piles of dirt and rocks around the “dangerous bits” so that vehicles knew to use the other lane - you know, the one with oncoming traffic. Even more Mongolian in nature, many vehicles, our included, simply left the road in the worst places and drove on the land nearby.

At the entrance to the Yol Valley, there is a kind of satellite branch to perhaps a bigger museum somewhere.

It was jam-packed with very local type info and featured sooo many stuffed critters. Someone had obviously been practicing their taxidermy skills, big time, here. I have to believe some of the postures and facial expressions we saw involved “artistic license”. My favorite part was that our guide decided to pick this time to get all communicative. He followed us around the museum pointing out things and offering tidbits of info. The best was when he pointed to a dinosaur bone in a glass case and said “leg bone”. Jeez, I thought Mark and I might pee our pants a little.

Ok, now the good stuff. The valley is narrow. At some point even our rugged vehicles and intrepid drivers came to the end of what is possible by car. Horses were waiting though.

Wearing all that was warm and cozy, each of us saddled up on Mongolian horses, which are slightly more stout than others I have ridden, we began the trek into the canyon. It quickly grew shaded and I was super glad my trusty stead was a warm little guy. 

He had other features too…. Like his attitude. Feisty little bugger had definite thoughts about who he wanted to walk beside and what speed he felt like going. Sometimes he lagged behind, other times he did a quick catch up, passed a few other horses, cut a few people off on the trail and then slowed down again. I kinda loved him. He and I chatted a little a long the way. I talked and he listened closely, his ears always pointed back toward me. We had an understanding. At the end of the horsey part of the trail, he and his friends were allowed to wander freely, eat the grass and drink in the icy stream as we continued on foot, deeper into the canyon. OMG it was cold!

The most narrow part of the canyon was a bit dark, very cold and featured iced up waterfalls down the canyon walls. I didn’t last too long in there. Mark seemed to be having a wonderful time though… His Wisconsin roots were loving the cold and damp and he even took some time to peruse the souvenirs and buy a cool hand carved spoon from some old Mongolian man.

My little horse was waiting for me on the return. I rubbed his nose (something he wouldn’t allow when we first met) and we looked into each others eyes. It was time to take me back to the van. He understood. A couple of the other tourists had decided that they were not as psyched about horse riding and opted to walk out of the canyon. Their horses, under the whistling guidance of the canyon cowboy, walked back without riders. Like many tourist trek horses, ours knew that they were going home… probably had dinner waiting, definitely would be slowing down for the day. With that in mind, they want to get there quicker and short bouts of spontaneous trotting occur. My sweet horse was not to be left behind. He had strong bond with two of the empty horses and when they ran, he did too. I didn’t mind, except for the part where I was taken by surprise; one hand still holding my large camera with lens fully extended as we trotted over rocky ground and through streams. Ah, what the heck! I did feel like the horse had earned his tiny bit of freedom… the chance to feel the frigid wind in his mane and to frolick with his friends.

We were the last of the tourists for the season. This valley/canyon is expected to get icy/snowy shortly and stay that way until next July.

And just like that our Gobi expedition was drawing to an end. Another 100km back along mostly paved road and we were back in Dalanzadgad. Our last night in a ger. Our first night in a ger with a queen bed. This ger also had an electric radiator heater, kettle, water, flush toilets and all manner of things that swing the pendulum firmly from camping to glamping.

We had an early night, charged our gadgets and packed up. Tomorrow, the driver would be here to collect us at about 7:30 am. There was that bus ride back to UB to look forward to. Breakfast was "homemade". We finally broke out those instant oatmeal packets I had been carrying since Russia! Looked fool-proof. Just add hot water.

Alas... while I ended up with oatmeal that tasted vaguely sweetened and a little like strawberries (quite good actually) Mark was a little heavy handed with the water and ended up with some solid bits that were fully drowned in cloudy water.  LOL. So sad.

The bus ride. Holy moly.

10 hours of static scenery, more animals, peeing near the side of the highway and ….. Truthfully, I didn’t stare expectantly out the window this time. Mark and I indulged in a Breaking Bad marathon. We binged watched at least 6 episodes via the ipad as the bus rolled north. (Traveling sure has changed since my first epic bus rides back in the 90's.)

Ulaanbaatar welcomed us around 6 pm with traffic jams, tooting horns and flurries of snow. In the 4 days we had been gone, the city had crept a big step closer to winter. Sidewalks were slippery and we could see snow on the surrounding hills. OMG the wind bites here!

We were thrilled to finally arrive back at the Diplomat Hotel - with the goal to shower, eat and go to bed. Big plans were afoot for tomorrow. Big plans...