3000 kilometres pedalled and Mongolia rolls on

Arrival into Altai area yesterday

Leaving Ulaanbaatar solo again had mixed feelings. Our base at Eagle Town appartments had been a comfortable one, complete with washing machine to deal with 8 days of dust and dirt on clothes that could stand upright with a sort of cardboard texture. It was a chance to meet with the National Cancer Council people in Sukhbaatar Square, with a media interview with the CEO Tsegi. A strong and busy woman who was also running for Mongolian parliament. Future bike packing charity events certainly have a challenging course to tempt the adventurous. Hopefully we have started the ball rolling for them.

Out on the road I felt the freedom of simply  riding at my own pace until a suitable campsite appeared. The road towards Kharkorin was busy, initially with Ulaanbaatar campers heading for peaceful gers in the areas west. Kharkorin had been on my original route for its unique history as a previous Mongolian capital, however my hasty reroute in Ulaanbaatar had failed to notice the 80 kilometres of mountain climbs into the town and 80 kilometres of rough dirt track back out. With a howling headwind on the day I made a decision to continue south west on the main route.

Thankfully after the Kharkorin turnoff traffic eased considerably. The weather provided routine thunderstorms and a few wet tent pack ups. After a few days of wet I discovered the ger motels, usually a rough restaurant building hiding three or four ger motels. Wet bike and gear could simply be rolled into the ger for complete shelter and a chance to dry out. Luxury. Usually the ger was accompanied by local children and a sheep or two to practice sign language with. Sign language with a four year old on her pink bike is pure fun, sheep are just thick.

Along the way I was hailed by a family working a large yard of ponies. Hand signals indicated a drink was on offer. The family crowded around as I was poured a large bowl of whitish liquid. No one else was joining me so I was on my own. A few gulps later and communication established I was drinking fermented mares milk, alcoholic enough to put me to sleep fairly quickly. The old host had a glint in his eye as he offered me more. With a stack of cycling miles still ahead I said my goodbyes and wobbled back to the road. Another experimental offering was a plate of yellow lard-like consistency which tasted like a slightly sweet solid yoghurt. Language never connected well enough to discover what I had eaten.

Arvaikheer was a surprise with a number of modern buildings and a well laid out city centre. The town is a base for many of the summer festivals. I also had a random conversation with a young woman escaping the bustle of Ulaanbaatar city life to spend time with family and revisit childhood riverside picnic spots. Well educated, with a Russian language degree, a local law degree and and MBA from Washington Science University where she worked three jobs to put herself through her studies. Unfortunately her study was in Covid times with unpleasant prejudice against “Chinese” in USA ( racial distinction too subtle for the average American). She left me with a deeper understanding of life in modern Mongolia and we shared a joint appreciation of the richness of experience in life. 

West from Arvaikheer, I connected water sources in Khairkhandulaan, Bayankhonger, Bombogor, Buutsagaan and yesterday Altai, the last major town before the true Gobi desert area. Khairkhandulaan was an eleven kilometre diversion on dirt, but provided a welcome break from main road trucking. The small village store had a welcoming owner with a good smattering of English. Small villages are the gems on such a journey - time is less material.

Since Arvaikheer the geography has been spectacular with climbs into barren mountains with piles of round boulders and jagged rocky peaks, sand dunes and red rock canyons. Each climb out leads to a plateau over 2000 metres where the typical gently rolling green country resumes. Scattered gers and herds of stock reappear ( now mostly sheep and goats with a few horse herds). Wildlife has included numbers of huge eagles (wishing for a long camera lens), a single skinny fox with wild flame orange fur, camels and small burrowing creatures which I always catch glimpses of around the tent. Elevation has ranged from 1700 to 2200 metres on this giant plateau so I have noticed the extra puff on the climbs.

Mentally the challenge has been to avoid the moods driven by conditions (constant wet cold or the numb battle against headwind). Headwinds I still lose the battle occasionally but the simple equation of food, sleep and hydration keep the balance. The reality is if you took your bike off the hook in the garage and rode any of these days you would reflect “that was a great ride”. Just have to join a few hundred such rides together.

Note: I have adopted the Mongolian term “ger” rather than the more Russian “yurt” or my misspelt “gur”

Departure from ​Sukhbaatar Square Ulaanbaarar

Ger motel

Welcome shelter between Buutsaagan and Altai (morning after the nightly storm)

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Every ger has a cute visitor

…and not so cute

Lunch table yesterday