Welcome back for the third installment of my time spent in Mongolia. I'll have at least one more post with a few final adventures, but in the meantime, enjoy!
Mongolian Road Trip
While Julia and her crew were getting the museum project underway, we planned a four day trip to Lake Khovsgul. Besides the time we had spent in Terelj National Park closer to the city, I had yet to venture any further into the countryside than the distance it took me to walk to my favorite coffee shop. Julia also needed to pick up some artifacts from her last dig that were still in storage in the small town of Mohron which would be on our way to the lake, so it only made sense for her to plan a "work trip" for us to retrieve said artifacts from a wonderful family who keeps Julia's storage unit on their property.
The bus ride to Mohron was twelve hours, followed by a night in a hotel, followed by another two hour drive north to Hatgal, the small town at the southern tip of the lake. Although Julia had been to this area before it had always been during the summer, so venturing this far into the vast Mongolian steppe in what had now turned into a frozen wonderland would still be an adventure for both of us! The trip was augmented by a few stops for lunch and dinner, and multiple stops by the side of the road for bathroom breaks (our bus did not have a bathroom).
One fun fact that I haven't described of Mongolian life is knowing the trick of toilet paper. The trick? Always carry some. Seriously. Unless you are at a five star hotel (and even then it's not guaranteed) there is a good chance there will not be toilet paper available in a bathroom. In fact, some places charge a small fee for a handful of paper and his sly monetary venture is usually handled by some small adorable old woman. However, any bathroom that isn't an outhouse with a ten foot hole and a very real chance of falling in begins to look like the Taj Mahal after a while. So having to pay 50 togrogs - the equivalent of about two cents - for a few pieces of single ply isn't really that big of a deal considering. Unless of course you only have a 20,000 note in your wallet, in which case the small adorable old woman then scowls at you, and you now feel ashamed for wanting to wipe your ass. Believe me, that's a whole new level of shame.
Mongolian Road Trip
While Julia and her crew were getting the museum project underway, we planned a four day trip to Lake Khovsgul. Besides the time we had spent in Terelj National Park closer to the city, I had yet to venture any further into the countryside than the distance it took me to walk to my favorite coffee shop. Julia also needed to pick up some artifacts from her last dig that were still in storage in the small town of Mohron which would be on our way to the lake, so it only made sense for her to plan a "work trip" for us to retrieve said artifacts from a wonderful family who keeps Julia's storage unit on their property.
The bus ride to Mohron was twelve hours, followed by a night in a hotel, followed by another two hour drive north to Hatgal, the small town at the southern tip of the lake. Although Julia had been to this area before it had always been during the summer, so venturing this far into the vast Mongolian steppe in what had now turned into a frozen wonderland would still be an adventure for both of us! The trip was augmented by a few stops for lunch and dinner, and multiple stops by the side of the road for bathroom breaks (our bus did not have a bathroom).
One fun fact that I haven't described of Mongolian life is knowing the trick of toilet paper. The trick? Always carry some. Seriously. Unless you are at a five star hotel (and even then it's not guaranteed) there is a good chance there will not be toilet paper available in a bathroom. In fact, some places charge a small fee for a handful of paper and his sly monetary venture is usually handled by some small adorable old woman. However, any bathroom that isn't an outhouse with a ten foot hole and a very real chance of falling in begins to look like the Taj Mahal after a while. So having to pay 50 togrogs - the equivalent of about two cents - for a few pieces of single ply isn't really that big of a deal considering. Unless of course you only have a 20,000 note in your wallet, in which case the small adorable old woman then scowls at you, and you now feel ashamed for wanting to wipe your ass. Believe me, that's a whole new level of shame.
Traveling with Purpose
Although most of the town of Hatgal was shut down during these cold months of hibernation, we were able to meet up with the wife of a contact of Julia's and stay at her home for two nights right on the southern tip of the massive 1,000 square foot lake. As the stove churned out heat, our host took the time to teach us how to make khuushuurs, pronounced "ho-sures", although I'm pretty sure that isn't the proper IPA description of how to pronounce it. These amazing little delicacies are a fried dough filled with meat and whatever else you care to throw inside. Jokingly these are referred to as the Mongolian Hot Pocket by expats, however, I think these things would make a killing if sold from a greasy food truck late at night in front of a bar. Entrepreneurs go...
The next day we arranged for a driver and a guide to take us a few hours north along the western edge of the lake. Just after ascending the top of the pass before dropping down into an area where the lake had not yet froze, we hit a few road blocks in the form of a Mongolian herder driving her flock down the mountain. This was immediately followed by a two more locals driving a small group of yaks in the same direction. This may not seem like much, but we were actually observing a past history that not many will see as our world continues to develop. This was a nomadic family relocating to their winter home, evident by the top of a ger that was fastened to one of the yaks, symbolizing the household was being moved. The irony, however, in calling it their winter home was that they were actually moving further north!
Although most of the town of Hatgal was shut down during these cold months of hibernation, we were able to meet up with the wife of a contact of Julia's and stay at her home for two nights right on the southern tip of the massive 1,000 square foot lake. As the stove churned out heat, our host took the time to teach us how to make khuushuurs, pronounced "ho-sures", although I'm pretty sure that isn't the proper IPA description of how to pronounce it. These amazing little delicacies are a fried dough filled with meat and whatever else you care to throw inside. Jokingly these are referred to as the Mongolian Hot Pocket by expats, however, I think these things would make a killing if sold from a greasy food truck late at night in front of a bar. Entrepreneurs go...
The next day we arranged for a driver and a guide to take us a few hours north along the western edge of the lake. Just after ascending the top of the pass before dropping down into an area where the lake had not yet froze, we hit a few road blocks in the form of a Mongolian herder driving her flock down the mountain. This was immediately followed by a two more locals driving a small group of yaks in the same direction. This may not seem like much, but we were actually observing a past history that not many will see as our world continues to develop. This was a nomadic family relocating to their winter home, evident by the top of a ger that was fastened to one of the yaks, symbolizing the household was being moved. The irony, however, in calling it their winter home was that they were actually moving further north!
Much different than what Ulaanbaatar may lead you to believe, half of the country's population still lives outside the city (in fact, half of the population in the city still live in traditional gers on the outskirts), and many clans still relocate as the seasons change. Although the term "nomadic" is commonly used to describe these people, it is a bit deceptive as the clans historically know exactly where they are going. They usually have a winter home and a summer home, and a lot of it has to do with knowing where it will be ideal for grasses to grow for grazing and where wind and snow piling will be diminished because of the landscape, so the reasons for choosing their winter locations are not entirely to avoid colder temperatures. Once these areas are known, they usually return to the same spots each season - sometimes the distance traveled may only be a few kilometers while others can be hundreds - it just depends on where their ancestors had found as a suitable spot. The point being that "nomadic" may not be the best term to describe this way of life. We usually apply this term to people who are just wandering around aimlessly with no direction, like Kanye West's career, which is definitely not the case with these clans who know exactly where they are going.
"Hello, AAA? Yeah, how far does my towing membership get me?"
We finished the day by spending some time out of the car on pristine white blankets of snow that had not yet been touched by any human, and taking in the fresh air and deep blue skies. The day's surprise adventure came when our sedan showed its limits and was not able to make it back up the pass. The road, which had been trampled by the aforementioned herds of goats and yaks, was compressed and slippery. After a few failed attempts to push the car up the mountain (that statement alone sounds ridiculous), our guide called a friend to meet us at the top. Although this may frustrate some, the chance to hike up a mountain deep in the Mongolian steppe in the middle of winter was just fine by me.
We met our emergency help at the top of the mountain just as they were taking the chains off their car. Once removed, the three local men began the trek back down to retrieve our vehicle. Although we offered to help, they told us to wait which gave me another few hours to hike around the wooded area surrounding the top. Even though it was reaching almost -40 degrees Celsius, I was wearing two thermal layers, a full body onesie, snow pants, a down jacket, two hats and two gloves - and I had just hiked up a mountain - so my body temperature was quite warm, in fact, I even sat down in the snow and spent some time to reflect on the day. It was beautiful. My reflection time was cut short when our saviors returned, a very humorous site of a grown Mongolian man riding on the hood of the car as they scurried up the mountain. I'm assuming he was on top of the car so as to add more weight to the front end and thus helping add more traction, however, he also had an ear to ear smile on his face so I imagine there was a little bit of boyish excitement as well. Either way, it was a fun end to an amazing day.
The next morning we began the long journey back to the city which included a stop to pick up Julia's artifacts in Mohron. When we arrived at the host family's house, one of their sons graciously offered me a hand carved wooden pendant with a fish in the middle. We were in a hurry to catch our bus so unfortunately it was a quick thank you and good bye. After a fourteen hour bus ride we blew what looked like a radiator hose with only 100 kilometers left. I witnessed the driver and his buddy wrap a massive amount of black electrical tape, followed by a massive amount of clear packaging tape, around the hose and then re-attach it and drive the final stretch into town. I have now experienced a bus breaking down in Mongolia, a bus breaking down in Peru, a train breaking down in New Zealand, and a truck blowing a tire in Western Australia. What I'm trying to say is, if we're ever traveling together, you may want to book your tickets for a different day than I do...
We finished the day by spending some time out of the car on pristine white blankets of snow that had not yet been touched by any human, and taking in the fresh air and deep blue skies. The day's surprise adventure came when our sedan showed its limits and was not able to make it back up the pass. The road, which had been trampled by the aforementioned herds of goats and yaks, was compressed and slippery. After a few failed attempts to push the car up the mountain (that statement alone sounds ridiculous), our guide called a friend to meet us at the top. Although this may frustrate some, the chance to hike up a mountain deep in the Mongolian steppe in the middle of winter was just fine by me.
We met our emergency help at the top of the mountain just as they were taking the chains off their car. Once removed, the three local men began the trek back down to retrieve our vehicle. Although we offered to help, they told us to wait which gave me another few hours to hike around the wooded area surrounding the top. Even though it was reaching almost -40 degrees Celsius, I was wearing two thermal layers, a full body onesie, snow pants, a down jacket, two hats and two gloves - and I had just hiked up a mountain - so my body temperature was quite warm, in fact, I even sat down in the snow and spent some time to reflect on the day. It was beautiful. My reflection time was cut short when our saviors returned, a very humorous site of a grown Mongolian man riding on the hood of the car as they scurried up the mountain. I'm assuming he was on top of the car so as to add more weight to the front end and thus helping add more traction, however, he also had an ear to ear smile on his face so I imagine there was a little bit of boyish excitement as well. Either way, it was a fun end to an amazing day.
The next morning we began the long journey back to the city which included a stop to pick up Julia's artifacts in Mohron. When we arrived at the host family's house, one of their sons graciously offered me a hand carved wooden pendant with a fish in the middle. We were in a hurry to catch our bus so unfortunately it was a quick thank you and good bye. After a fourteen hour bus ride we blew what looked like a radiator hose with only 100 kilometers left. I witnessed the driver and his buddy wrap a massive amount of black electrical tape, followed by a massive amount of clear packaging tape, around the hose and then re-attach it and drive the final stretch into town. I have now experienced a bus breaking down in Mongolia, a bus breaking down in Peru, a train breaking down in New Zealand, and a truck blowing a tire in Western Australia. What I'm trying to say is, if we're ever traveling together, you may want to book your tickets for a different day than I do...
Thank you for reading! I hope to have the final post from Mongolia available soon. If you don't know yet I am actually back in the States but it has been fun looking through my notes and putting my photos and videos into words. I'm in North Carolina now and will be for at least the next four months so I will likely have some stories from here as well. I hope the new year has been great so far. Talk with you again soon!
-Dustin
-Dustin
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