It wasn’t what I expected, though. I’m not really sure what
that was, but I was a bit taken aback when the owner of Stepperiders came and
met me at an Irish pub (there’s always one) and then drove me 40
kilometers to the boonies.
Granted, I had no idea, really, what to expect, but I really
did expect running water and access to electricity. I had neither. This wasn’t a problem; it was just
unexpected.
As it turned out, the high season had really just ended and
I was the only tourist there. Save for Buena and Gana, the two locals, and Rob,
an American volunteer working there, I was it. No electricity, no running
water, no other tourists. The address of the place is simply the latitude and
longitude coordinates. A fantastic way to get away from it all.
Mongolia is really a beautiful country and very rural. From
what Rob told me (he was the only English speaker), there are about three
million people in the country, and half of those live in Ulan Bataar, the
capital. The people are really nice, but it’s not a place full of people.
Where I was – and pretty much any camp in Mongolia – was
made up of gers, which are the round structures in which Mongolians live. They’re
sort of tents that house a family (or in my case, five beds) and a wood stove.
There is a circle of clear plastic (or something) at the top to let in light.
There is no electricity, although one of the homes I visited had a car battery
hooked up for power.
They’re relatively warm and windproof, which worked for me.
I had one all to myself, as did the American volunteer and the two Mongolians.
There was also a much larger ger used as a dining hall and another small one
used as a kitchen.
For me, it was very PC-like, and a cross of working both at
Hope Village and the ranch. I had no shower, ate in a round tent and had
horses. It was fantastic.
Rob, the volunteer, told me later that I was the most unique
volunteer he’d seen in his time there. (He was doing research on Mongolian
horsemen.) I was into everything: helping with the cooking, cleaning, taking
down a ger, etc. It just seemed the thing to do.
Yes, taking down a ger. On my first day riding, we had to
forgo an afternoon ride in order to completely take down one of the structures,
getting the camp ready for the winter. It was quite a different experience. The
thing goes together so well, it was fascinating to see how it fit and what it
was made of.
On that, the answer was invariable fur of some sort: camel,
yak, sheep, goat – they had it all. Lots of wool items to choose from, and even
the mattresses were made of packed animal hair of some sort.
Riding was a bit scary but turned out fine. I wore a helmet
for the first time and it kept falling down over my face, but it did shield the
sun. Fortunately, it didn’t have the opportunity to protect my noggin because I
never fell or lost footing.
Mongolians didn’t invent horses, but they did invent
everything related to them. Calvary, tack, etc., I’m pretty sure it all dates
back to them. I think the kids grow up on horses; everyone can ride.
It was pretty cool to see Buena galloping past, a big
herding stick in his hand and just charging at full speed while standing in the
stirrups. He could also swoop down and pick up a rock from the ground without
maiming himself, which impressed me.
Gana, too, was an amazing horsewoman. She was a bit
impatient with my first horse, who was “calm.” Apparently this is a euphemism
for “lazy,” because it took forever to get him (Mongolians only ride the
stallions) to gallop, although he finally did. My second steed, on the last
day, refused to do anything quicker than a trot.
Riding across the steppes was really amazing. (A “steppe” is
apparently the mountain and the valley combined.) The weather was changing and
the green had mostly turned to brown.
Colorful it wasn’t, but it was still beautiful. We saw a bunch of ground
critters – marmots, I think they called them – and two foxes. And one random
cat, which is probably doomed to become fox (or wolf) food at some point in the
near future.
The second day, it was just Gana and me, because the two
boys took the 100-head herd on the start of the winter migration. Apparently
everyone in the area gathers up most of their animals – horse, cow, sheep, goat
– and they travel about 200 kilometers east, to a place with a better winter
climate. All totaled, this makes for thousands of animals slowly moving. Rob’s
plan was to go the first day, return and then leave two days later, when all
the area farmers’ animals were to be gathered.
I’ve no idea if that went through, but he did get off around
11 a.m. and then returned back at 4 p.m. the same day.
He was a good person to have around, because I really would
have been at a loss communication-wise. For example, one of the delicacies in
Mongolia is fermented mare’s milk. Every horse owner (which means everyone) has
their own recipe, and it looks just like milk (albeit milk that’s been sitting
out.) Without translation, I would have
had no warning about what it was and might have expected something normal
tasting. No. It was absolutely horrible. Gana drank something like four bowls
full each day we went, but I barely managed to keep down a couple of sips. It
had three tastes. The first and third were manageable, but oh, that one in the
middle. Nasty.
The food was plain but right up my alley. Carrots, cabbage,
onion, garlic. Add either rice or pasta for a dish or a soup and that was it.
Almost exactly what I eat anyway.
Since we had no electricity, we ate by candlelight and then
Rob challenged me to a chess game. Over the course of three days, I wound up
winning three games to one, which is still funny to me because, even though I
don’t exactly play chess a lot, I think I’ve won a total of one game before in
my life, and that would have been against a Moroccan child.
Rob was a good guide, too, although, on the last day when it
was just him and me (Gana was hung over off fermented mare’s milk), we got a
bit lost in trying to find our way back to the camp. The steppes really did
look alike and it was hard to get a grasp on where you were. And the last day,
everything took forever because the horses were so lazy.
They’d kept 10 back from the migrating herd, and my guess is
the ones chosen were too slow to keep up with the group. Man, they took
FOREVER. At one point, after having
saddle problems, Rob just up and walked, hauling the horse behind him. And I,
on horseback, couldn’t get my mount to catch up – that’s how lazy the pair was.
The trip was fantastic, though, and very surreal in a way. I
mean, a week before, I’d been in America and then suddenly I stepped back in
time, and way, way far off the grid.
I was glad to have scheduled in one night at a hotel prior
to my departure, though. On the way up, I’d overnighted in the Beijing airport,
and then had three days of no running water. Seeing the Ramada Inn, with its
four pillows, huge tub and breakfast buffet, was a sight for sore eyes.
I wound up bringing Rob with me, just briefly. He had stuff
to do in town so I offered the use of the hotel’s shower. His eyes lit up and
he thanked me profusely over and over again.
Next up is a trip to Hong Kong, which could wind up being
more adventurous than Mongolia, what with the protests and everything. And
after that, I’ll head to Bhutan.
This is a great starting point for once-in-a-lifetime trips.
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