The Land of Blue Sky

There are almost too many impressions to digest. So, in this post I'll leave out adjectives like amazing, breathtaking, stunning and so on - there would just too many.
The landscape was very varied and the interesting thing was it wouldn't merge or gradually change but switch quite clearly. In fact, we got the impression that in Mongolia, terrain types come in blocks with a clear division to the next block. First grassland, now steppe, now desert - a very tidy country, we agreed.
First we visited the Rocky Mountains, as Bolod had called them. They turned out to be a rather alien sight, as giant had piled up huge slabs of rock in the early days of the world. From a distance I thought the sharp formations almost resembled the skyline of a city. I loved taking photos but somehow a photo was never enough to capture the strangeness of the sight. We camped right amid the rocky spires and heated some canned food for dinner (this would become our standard procedure). After watching the sunset we talked into the night around the cooker - feeling very much like travellers in the old days. That night the wind was very strong, strong enough to rock Gorin's car and damage our tent.
The second objective was the White Cliffs, a solitary rocky drop in a flat reddish desert. I didn't find them that white but, hey, I didn't name them. This day was actually the first time we saw Gorin uncertain. It turned into quite an adventurous hunt through the desert. Gorin had first intended to follow another jeep driven by his friend. But when he took a shortcut believing the other car was right behind us we lost them. That visibly upset him. He searched the horizon for the car but nothing. One moment we thought we spotted a cloud of dust but it disappeared again. We proceeded on our own. Some hours later he stopped, searched the horizon, then turned back. We followed a different track for a while then turned back again. Then we encountered a lady at the roadside - the human souls all day. What was she doing here alone? Gorin stopped, talked to her, then asked us to make some space, we'd take her along to her home, which was not far. They made conversation; later Gorin related she had told him that their herd of sheep had been attacked by wolves. In a way this was our first encounter with the harsh wilderness of this country. We were invited into the ger tent for a drink while Gorin (as we later learned) asked for the way the White Cliffs. We set off again. But something was still not right. Gorin asked at another ger - they pointed in a different direction. Obviously the locals didn't really know where the place was - I had read this: local people are often unaware of such places of special interest to travellers - they're just not interested. We followed the new road and then another. We were a bit worried now. We trusted in Gorin's ability to find to the and we had food for some days. Still, to feel lost in this huge land is a bit worrying. Finally, Gorin stopped for a long while scanning the horizon with his telescope. Then, at last, he smiled and laughed. He had found what he was looking for. We arrived just before sunset. His friend had got there long before us. There was a big hello. I still wonder what the two guys had to say to eachother over their tea in the evening.
The next day we reached Yol Canyon, which houses a small river that can be frozen long into spring or summer time. Here after all the time in the open plains and desert there were green hills and mountains again. We found no ice but instead encountered a Mongolian boy who spoke French and good English, too, and was taking a couple of French kids around. That night we camped near a ger and while we cooked our dinner Gorin went over to say hello. It became quite cold once the sun went down but the sky was crystal clear as I had never seen it before. We sat around the cooker for a long time, stunned, under a black dome sparkling with millions of stars. Against my will the line from the film Madagascar came to my mind: "Man, that must be millions of helicopters." I guess in a way that's how we city people felt. The next morning we were awakened by the goats that had gathered around our tent. Then a young horse came over and before we knew it had found its way into our tent. We spent an interesting time coaxing it out again.
This day we continued on to how we had imagined the Gobi Desert to be like: sand dunes. In truth we had spent the last one or two days in the Gobi desert - the sand dunes are only a small, if pictoresque, part. Sadly, here the weather was not all desert-like. So, what was the Gobi Desert like? Cold and cloudy - bit like England. Surprised? Well, we learned the Gobi is not a desert like the Sahara: it's not hot all the time. The clouds were an unfortunate consequence of this being the rain season. Still, the dunes were nonetheless impressive. Some are said to be up to 300 meters high. So, we climbed a few and took the obligatory photos diving off sand dunes and surfing like on water. Also, at this point we were as far south as we would go - a mere 400 kilometers on to China - you can almost smell it. Here we also encountered the toughest little girl ever at the ger where we spent the night. She was about six, I think, had to struggle with two bigger brothers that kept pulling on her clothing. She fought them off again and again with impressive force. Then one of them took her for a ride on his motorbike. When she had a enough she just jumped off - without waiting for him to stop, rolled over on the ground, dusted herself off and walked over to Gorin as if nothing had happened. That had us dumbfounded. Cool kid!
The fifth day of our trip the weather was still cloudy but at least the haze of the previous day had cleared a bit. Thus we arrived at the Red Cliffs. Surrounded by a stunning open landscape and more goats we spent a rainy, stormy night. Under the canopy of cloud the night here was so pitch black that a few paces were enough the loose sight of the ger entirely. Made going for a leak rather unsettling - imagine getting lost in such inky blackness!
As the saying goes "rain is always followed by sunshine" the next day we woke up to the kind of magnificent blue sky the Mongolia is famous for. This was the last day for us to travel over flat terrain - we never appreciated it while we had it. In the afternoon we reached Ongiin Khiid, a ruined monastery town on the borders of a little river. The place is not so impressive as the story that must have taken place here. In their effort to reduce the influence of Lamaism in Mongolia the communists had the monastery destroyed and the monks taken away or killed - something, Bolod had insisted, was not done by the Russians but the Mongolian "KGB". Looking at the size of the site a great tragedy. On the upside, the clear sky afforded us another beautiful celestial panorama that night. In the evening, the young camel of the guest house was attracted by the leftover food at our ger. It unnerved Nicole who wanted to read a book. It kept trying to push its snout into the ger or into the bag with food. When that failed it just mournfully rubbed its big head against the ger. It was a bit daunting handling the animal which was still bigger than your average horse. We weren't sure how it would react to pressure, so we were careful with our big guy. In the end I managed to lure it away but Rupert, as I began calling it, was a curious fellow and kept coming back. I turned into something like the "Camel-whisperer" but to no avail. Nicole didn't get to read her book until Rupert found food elsewhere. A baby camel? One hell of a baby! How is Rupert now, I wonder?
The next day the sky was still a pristine blue with only a few clouds in sight. Now the really tough going started: we headed for the mountains and the Eight Lakes. Of which, as we heard, only one or two remain because of draught. The road - and thus the car - not only went up and down but also hillsides but also over rocks. Being jolted back, forth and from side to side was more than tiring - even though we were just sitting in the car. Tension rose with fatigue. Still, Gorin mastered the road without so much as a remark. Then when we finally reached our destination it was suddenly all worth it. Over the crest of a hillside the lake came into view. Situated in a small valley it was about as blue as the sky. And cold as I later found out. After Lake Baikal I was not going to miss this one and it was about as cold. But also very invogourating. Gorin said I would sleep well that night. We still sat around the camp fire for a long time, once again admiring the countless stars of this country. And Gorin was right, despite storm and cold that kept Nicole awake I comfortably slept through the whole night. Nicole would have none of it. No more tents: from now on we were sleeping in gers!
And true enough, the weather was changing. When we reached the nearby waterfall (after seemingly endless kilometers of rocky road) it had clouded over again. It had also got colder. We had to wear jackets now. Rain was coming. Fortunately, there were only two more days left. So, that night we had one last fiery sunset reflected on white-grey clouds. The waterfall itself while beautiful was not as impressive as the ravine it tumbled into. A deep cut in the landscape for kilometers and kilometers. On foot it would surely take a day or more to march around.
The next morning it started to rain again. We set off quickly because the siblings didn't like the rain and Gorin was worried that about the roads. We reached our last destination, Kharkhorin without much of a problem. Here we hit an asphalt road again. Oh so easy after what we had been through. Next to Erdene Zuu monastery, built on the site of the ancient city of Kharakhorum, we picked a guest house. This was the saddest ger I had ever seen: in a backyard, surrounded by a board fence, with view of the toilet. It smelled and was not well built as the wind that night tore off part of the roof covering. After all the nights spent in a virtually boundless landscape it felt confined and tiny. A harsh return to reality.
Our final day still turned out to be quite the adventure. We expected asphalt roads all the way back to Ulaanbaatar. Not so. The government was building a new road. The old one had been demolished. The rain of the previous days had washed away the dirt track that filled in for the much travelled main road. At times, it felt like riding a piece of soap. Just don't stop, keep moving or we'll be stuck. Mud splattered, the engine roared. How some other people that we passed expected to get through in a normal car without four-by-four was beyond us. In the end, our super driver got us through and we finally slid back onto asphalt for good and our adventure came to an end.
It felt strange to be in the city again - no other town we passed was anywhere near the size of a city. There were so many cars, and even traffic jams. Driving among so many cars again must feel strange after days on the road with not a single vehicle in sight for hundreds of kilometers. Here you have to stop at traffic lights and indicate direction. But one thing we did look forward to, the rarest of all things on this trip: A bath. Out there in the vast plains noone smells you.