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...

October 2nd and 3rd : Into the Gobi Desert (Mongolia)

The Plan:
Driver will pick up tourists from their hotel at 7:20am and deliver them to the bus. They will take the bus for 7-8 hours south, to Dalanzadgad and will be met there by tour driver and guide (English speaking).

In reality:
Sometime between last night and when breakfast arrived unexpectedly at 6:30am that morning, a note also appeared on the desk in our hotel room. It read "6:45 going" and was signed by someone who also left us a smiley face. We didn't notice the note until 6:30am, had no idea what it meant or who left it.

6:45 am, there was a knock at the hotel room door and someone (hotel staff?) tried to tell us to check out. Utter confusion ensues as breakfast has just been eaten and the final stages of packing is still in progress. Mark went down stairs to the lobby to find our driver has arrived, with a mini-van full of other tourists waiting for us. Whoops. Lost in translation is pretty normal here, like 10x/day there are language hurdles that simply cannot be leaped.

Long story short... We were off to the Gobi Desert a tad earlier!

The driver is very nice and we discover also that our 3 fellow tourists are ESL teachers in Beijing, here on a mini vacation. One Brit (Jay), one Colombian (Paula) and... wait for it... a young lady from Evergreen CO! That would be Jacklyn.

At the main UB bus terminal our driver puts our luggage under the bus in the cavity and tells us to get aboard. We do and he leaves. Then things go a bit haywire. Other passengers tell Mark and I we are in their seats. According to their printed tickets, we are! Wait a sec, we don't have printed tickets and therefore, don't have seat numbers, so now what?

The bus driver arrives and demands to see our tickets, that's what happens. LOL  Not having one to show him, he then proceeds to tell us where to buy tickets. Tickets that we know are included in the tour already. So like all confused kids, we called "dad". Dad being Ganzo - the Mongolian guy we have been emailing with to get this tour organized from the US. Hooray for What's App and being able to phone-a-friend even while traveling in Mongolia!

Ganzo got the shuttle driver to come back and help explain that the tour company bought tickets for all 5 of us, then the bus driver consulted his printed passenger list. I was on there. Mark was not. Jay was on there, his companions were not. Yeah... whoever booked the tour, made it onto the passenger list and the others were a bit out of luck?!  Ganzo informed me we were fine and the bus driver was the one who was "confuse-ed". Soon enough that bus driver did just give up, let us sit anywhere on the bus and we headed out of town.

The bus drove on the highway, south from Ulaanbaatar. I used the term highway incredibly loosely, because it appears to be one of only a handful of blacktop roads in this country, outside of the city.

About 2.5 hours in, the bus pulled over and it was apparently a pee break for the driver and whomever else felt the need. On either side of the road was sandy-rocky-dirt as far as the eye could see. Not a mound in sight. Certainly not a toilet. It didn't stop the men-folk and very little concern was given to how the women-folk might make this work or indeed if they had needs at all. Then it was time to get going.

Another 2.5 hours in we stopped for lunch at what I'd say is the Mongolian version of a truck stop. Although I didn't see gas anywhere. We ate at the available restaurant, Mark and I sharing a mutton soup bowl and a pile of noodles with mutton. It was hot and not bad, but I was kinda getting sick of tasting mutton in my mouth all day long and wondered if I would ever get used to eating so much animal fat.

The next stop, you guessed it, in 2 or so hours; there was a pit toilet for the ladies! It was decidedly more private and I was glad it was still light. You opened the door and without so much as a step up, there was a rather large hole about 6 inches in! The drop was at least 10 feet and the hole was large enough to swallow me if I made a wrong move. Yikes!  But beggars can't be choosers...

We arrived at Dalanzadgad around 6:15 pm. I know right?! 8 hours was a bit off. This was a 10 hour bus ride where the scenery didn't change in 10 hours. Flat and dusty, not a tree in sight since UB. At irregular intervals I noticed tracks with tire treads that left the main road and headed out into the great beyond. No street signs at all except a 50 km/hr sign I saw once. Occasional herds of goats and sheep, horses or camels. I had my head against the window most of the journey, hoping not to miss a minute of the Mongolian scenery and had all but concluded it would not be necessary to do that on the way back to UB 3 days from now.

At this bus station our group of 5 was split back into a group of 2 and 3. They went with a more mature female guide, we went with our guy. NOT exaggerating, our guide was about 16 years old and his dad was our driver. We honestly tried to learn their names but couldn't get our tongues to cooperate on the pronunciation front, so don't hold it against me. Let's just called our guide William and pretend that is not offensive to rename him.

William and his dad loaded our stuff up and then informed us we had about 100km more to drive tonight in order to reach our Ger Camp.

Now, let me explain what that really means.
1. We were not staying on the highway, but were now headed straight into the Gobi. No more paved roads for us. The next 100km were dirt tracks (or not... since sometimes we just drove over virgin ground too) or dry river beds. Mostly though, it was tracks that crossed river beds. Our driver was an expert and clearly felt comfortable at 50km/hr, off-roading in a mini-van. Mark and I watched the sunset from the middle row of seats, behind the dirty, tinted windows of a Mitsubishi van while being tossed around like a ship in the Beagle Channel.

2. 100km actually takes about 2.5 hours because of the terrain and because at various points the guide and driver appear to be unsure as to which of the 3-4 dirt tracks forking in front of us, are the correct one to take. We stopped for directions 2x before reaching our destination in the very cold and dark, near 9 pm.

I was EXHAUSTED and had done zero exercise and none of the driving today.

Our hosts were lovely (I think). They offered us milk tea - polite but firm no thanks to that one of course - and wanted to keep us in their family ger while the fire in ours got going and warmed it up. Mark endeared himself no end by accepting a little hit of snuff from the patriarch's snuff bottle as it was handed around to the men who were present. Sneezing ensued and even though they laughed, they appeared thrilled by his participation!

Our ger, now ready, was a welcome respite from the long day of travel. A wood stove was burning brightly and it was 100 degrees inside. I was given some instruction about stoking it overnight and then we were left to ourselves. Umm... no word about the bathroom situation? Nope.

Wednesday dawned bright and clear - and cold! So, the fire does go out overnight and given that a ger is never really closed up at the top, the temp inside the ger is close to the temp outside. You heard me correctly, the lid is off the thing! At the very top, where the chimney exits to the sky, so does the warm air. The hole is about 6 feet by 3 feet and apparently this is normal, even in the dead of winter. On the bright side, since there appears to be no means to shower, the ventilation probably serves several purposes.

It was time for breakfast and being the polite (naive) little guests we were, we simply said "we'll have whatever the family has for breakfast". Yes, it could have been more well thought out. Breakfast was a bowl of some kind of cereal cooked into a firm glob with tiny bits of... you guessed it... mutton. Not oats, not rice but maybe a barley type affair. It was cold, but our host family showed us how to make it more palatable. You simply add a cup of hot camel milk from the thermos flask to it. Then mix it around a little. And choke it down. I don't mean to sound ungrateful because I ate it, all of it. It was warm and not as bad as the traditional tea in Ulaanbaatar or the kvass we had in Russia! But I'm just not used to having salty camel milk porridge with bits of meat in it for breakfast so in hindsight, if I did this again another time, I'd probably politely decline the traditional breakfast. Good to try these things though, right?

The wood we were burning over night and during breakfast was said to be Gobi Tree (not cut down, just foraged bits). This mornings first excursion was to the "forest" of these trees, which exists only near this camp. Tree's grow to 3-4 feet, but it takes 100-200 years. IMHO, they are gnarly versions of a Colorado juniper but with incredibly deep roots - 100m or deeper in order to reach water.

Then we headed for Flaming Cliffs. The Gobi version of Arizona's famous red sandstone Monument Valley. The wide open spaces are way bigger here but the monuments are way smaller. And there are dinosaur bones. The whole area was alive with dinosaurs 65-80 million years ago and it has been a archaeologist's dream for the last 150 years. Of course, back then the place was a lush jungle too.

Soon enough the van stopped and William and his dad jumped out, eager to show us dinosaur bones that were still buried. They moved a few rocks and swept red sand soil away with gloved hands then a little brush. Low and behold, there was what looked to be a bone still partially buried. I loved the exercise and the enthusiasm and had to giggle when they took great pains to bury it again before we left. Of course I suspect that the next van load of tourists will also get to see that bone being excavated, but it's all good.

Ok, so when your guide is 16, you get some "extra" info that most likely the older women guides will not show you. Like "bones are sticky" - as he places one on his tongue and demonstrates how it doesn't fall off. Hahahaha

Flaming cliffs was the scene for a bit of hiking to capture various views. It was also where we took our first real breaths of the biting wind that was signaling the close end to tourist season and the onset of the cold season.

We had 120 km to travel this afternoon before arriving at the Gobi Sand Dunes. A destination that had long held a spot on my bucket list.

Again... in and out of river beds, following barely-there tire tracks, winding through a black rock type canyon... wiggling and jiggling all over the back seat, we went. Always, our driver's grip firmly on the wheel and his eyes fixed on the terrain just a few meters in front of the van.

Bingo! Dunes!
In the setting sun, Mark, myself and our little William, hiked/scrambled up the biggest of the dunes in this area. The afternoon was warm and breezy. Beautiful.

From my sandy perch, I played with ladybugs in the sand and watched camels at the Gobi Oasis below us.

These Gobi sand dunes stretch for 180 km and are up to 27 km wide in places.
This is not the only patch of dunes in a desert that is otherwise mostly exposed rock - and it is still expanding (southward into China) by a process called desertification. The Gobi Desert is the 5th largest desert in the world and if I'm not mistaken, the most northern. For the most part is a cold desert and can reach temps of -45 F-ish.

'Tis a harsh climate indeed down here. I have traveled far and wide and many places have called me to perhaps revisit and stay longer. I wonder often "could I live here?", when I travel. I already know I could never live in Mongolia. There would be a loud period of whining about the cold, but it would be short lived, then I would perish at the hands Mother Nature in Mongolia! I know I am way too precious.

Our guest camp was different on night 2 in the Gobi. It was a little bigger for one thing. We found ourselves eating dinner in the 'restaurant ger' with a Serbian couple whom we had run into a couple of times over the last 2 days. They were super nice, clearly enthusiastic travelers and engaging to talk to. Another bonus was the ability to mix it up with the other guide. She was clearly more experienced, spoke better English and was overall, more enthusiastic about her job than our young man was.

Dinner was awesome. A noodley bowl with lots of veggies and some meat too. OMG, I miss vegetables! Probably too much information, but the things have not been "right" since we left Ulaanbaatar and I have no choice but to blame it, at least partially, on my new found high fat and mutton protein diet. Seriously, I'm already at the point where I believe I might have eaten more mutton on this trip than in the whole rest of my life. AND I'm ok if I don't eat another bite... ever.

Our ger was toasty warm again that night, by way of a mad hot wood-fired stove that our host lit with a little flame thrower.

But I knew that delightful heat was escaping out of the hole in the roof and it wouldn't/couldn't last 'til morning.  :-(