Mongolia – done. Ticked off the final points… rode into Gerkhi Terelj National Park, rode around a heap, saw the “Turtle Rock”, dithered about whether to stay in the park, or sleep next to the ridiculous giant Ghenghis Khan statue… eventually opted for staying in the part – as it was really the most interesting/scenic landscape I’d seen for some time. (Steppes/desert are great, for a short time… but seeing something new was enervating). The entire park was hills and rock formations… quite cool after so long in the steppes. Checked into a ger camp – for one last night sleeping in a yurt… and proceeded to drink beers in the last of the evening sun. Drank too many, and had to go to sleep without fully appreciating the night’s gimmick of “traditional Mongolian music”. The place I stayed at was obviously geared toward South Korean tour groups, and I figured I wasn’t going to see too much of anything authentic anyway.
Next morning – used my camp frying pan for the first time – to fill with soapy water, and give a cursory wash of the bike, to make it look just that slightly better. The lady who’d hired it wanted it back “as good as new”… and I figured that if at least the entire thing wasn’t covered in mud, that would be a decent goodwill measure. Then – off to see that stupidly big silver monstrosity – the 40m high stainless steel statue of Chinggis on his horse. I kept expecting to see this shining monster on the horizon, but it only came into sight reasonably close. As big as it is… my first impression was “yeah, that’s a big hoss and Khan”, but the second impression was “not as big as I’d expected”. Had a look around the inside of it… including a very large boot – 9m high. Possibly the most interesting thing about the whole thing – was looking at the original plans for the entire statue/complex. It’s supposed to be a massive theme park, with the silver statue just the centre-piece. Privately owned/built – this thing is supposed to be surrounded by 200 yurts – hotels, souvenir shops, other edifices… 10 years later, the statue is surrounded by about a dozen gers, and the steps up to it are already falling apart. But – still impressive… although I have my doubts as to the condition it will all be in 10 years from now. After visiting the “Biggest Equestrian Statue… IN THE WORLD!” – it was time to drop the bike off. I pointed out the 7 pieces which had fallen off, and there were no objections to giving my deposit (passport) back. In fact, the nice lady (much nicer, and less flustered, than when I’d picked it up) – gave me a cold beer to enjoy while I repacked everything from the useless panniers, and waited for a taxi. So, finally, back to UlaanBaatar, to kill a couple of days. The sheer number of people here (which isn’t much) – is a little scary after 24 days of wide open extremely isolated spaces.
After deciding to stay on tarmac for the last few days – it took 80km of that to get bored, and find an excuse for one last little bit of dirt/gravel/corrugations. From Dalandzadgad – headed north, and then off into the wilderness one last time… to the “White Stupa”. Which is actually white with violet stripes, and rather striking (the photos don’t do it justice). After the disappointment of Bayanzag, it was quite cool. First rode up to the top, for a few photos, and then down to the bottom – where the terrain is just heaps of little rocky mounds, with tracks all over/around them. Would be amazing fun on a proper dirt bike – with the Shineray, it was still a bit of fun, albeit getting stuck several times on very steep slopes by stalling, or the chain coming off. Not a great experience with practically zero brakes to call upon. Spent the night in a ger/yurt near the stupa, Tsugaan Suvaraga – and had some dodgy soup and fermented camel milk supplied by the lady owning the ger. Also saw a camel being milked for the first time… a slightly more manual approach than the herringbone sheds back home. Catch/tie up the baby camels, wait for the mother to come running, and then milk one side of the mother while the baby camel is suckling the other.
Next morning – I’d been convinced by the locals that the best route to where I was going was via a road not on my maps… so gave that a go. And thankfully – yeah, all easy. Then, started getting worried about fuel… both small towns I stopped at to get topped up – refused to sell me any petrol. I finally figured out that the power was out all the way south of UlaanBaatar. Procrastinated for an hour or two at the second place, having some food, before becoming convinced I could probably make it to the next major town. I’d already been paranoid about the 35km from first little-town to second… the next 50km was nerve-wracking, with the fuel meter sitting on “E” right from the outset. But – made it to Mandalgovi – where I found a gas station with a generator going – and cars queued up for petrol. I was more than happy to queue up behind them all. Checked in to a basic hotel – and visited the local museum. No power, of course, so wandering around in a deserted museum, with a torch. Rather an odd experience, especially when there are full skeletons of dinosaurs and woolly rhinos appearing unexpectedly. Like something out of a bad movie. And then – bought some beers, and went to sit in the park to drink them – with a couple of local drunks doing the same (with vodka). Got “chatting” with them… and remembered how annoying drunks can be when it comes to the language barrier. Just a constant refusal to understand/remember that them saying the same thing over and over wasn’t going to be understood. Eventually let them fleece me of a bit of money – I don’t know if they were charging me for the vodka I drank, or what – and deliberately not understanding their requests I come with them to their next stop. Oh – and in the wee hours of the morning, another local drunk entered my hotel room, confused at finding me there, standing and staring at me for quite some time before figuring out he needed to find another room to crash in (and I suspect, this was a regular occurrence… get drunk, go to the open-doored hotel, find an empty room, sleep). And as I’m ready to leave in the morning, a lady was absolutely smashed, jabbering away at me constantly… throwing her hair-clip at a passing car which she must have taken a disliking to… very, very drunk – at 10am. The Mongolians, they love a drink, but they cannae handle it.
Today – almost nothing but tarmac… just a boring 220km or so stint to get fairly close to UB, with an eye to visiting that ridiculous giant aluminium statue tomorrow. The road was all sealed, barring the occasional and sudden massive pothole (which sneak up on me, as I’m unwilling to stand up on the pegs, not trusting how they’re attached currently), and a couple of times leaving the road to find a relatively secluded spot for a wee break. So – arrived in Zuunmod – with an eye to finishing this extended leg of the trip. On the to-do list… clean the bike (the lady who gave it to me made me promise to return it “as is”, as it was her brand-new pride-and-joy. It is not currently “as-is”… I count 6 pieces which have fallen off, and it looks as dirty/dusty as a 15-year-old farm-bike. I’m hoping that if it is at least as shiny as it was when I started, she might overlook the various bits missing.
Left the luxury of a “proper” hotel room, heading into the wilderness. A little bit scary on one’s own, with very very little other traffic (if any), and a bike one doesn’t entirely trust… being constantly rattled and battered by the “road”. I was hoping to put in a fairly big riding day, but that plan was scuttled when I had to stop to investigate a horrible noise from the back wheel… turned out the lower half of the chainguard had become detached, and rather mangled. Beyond road-side panelbeating, so I took that off, and tied to the bike… considering whether to bother carrying it all the way back to UlaanBaatar. In the end – managed to get a couple of hundred kilometres done, helped by time being freed up by no breakfast and no lunch… and then – no real dinner. Got to the town of Bogd, half-hoping it would be heavy rain overnight, so I could make the terrible joke that I was “bogged down in Bogd”. Instead, finally found a “hotel” – which was a family with a spare room, and a sofa-bed in their lounge. I was installed into the lounge, and a couple of guys in the spare room. I’d ended up chatting a fair bit (as much as possible with language barrier) with the driver of the other car – nice guy, I gathered that he used to be a rather senior officer in the army, but now seemed to be driver/bodyguard for what he called his “director” – a professor/doctor… drunk/asleep in the passenger seat. Ended up having several beers, and a bit of fermented horse milk (proudly pulled out of the car in a 20 litre container)… and some of his pot-o-noodles for dinner.
Next day – off towards the recommended Bayanzag… which I’d forgotten was also known as the “Flaming Cliffs”. Got there in the afternoon, and rode around the area marked on the map as being this attraction – not really finding anything remarkable. Some reasonably interesting variants in scrublands – which I believe is what gave the area the name… but nothing spectacular. Some fairly small orange rock formations, that’s about it. I checked into one of the several ger camps nearby (demonstrating that I was indeed in the area of a reasonably major “attraction” – and gave one more shot at riding around, nearing sunset – to see if something jumped out at this time of evening. Still… nothing really. I could see some reddish cliffs, but… that was about it. So, rather than get stuck riding around in the wilderness, in the dark, with practically zero protective clothing (I was wearing the helmet, everything else would be highly discouraged as appropriate riding kit) – it was back to the ger camp, and quickly convince the owners that I was trustworthy enough to just grab beers from the fridge when I wanted, and would definitely settle up at the end. Looking up Bayanzag today, once I had internet available – it seems that I did indeed miss the main attraction, although I think I glimpsed it at one point, from a bit of a distance… and wasn’t too intrigued at the time.
From the disappointing/misunderstood Bayanzag – it was South, towards the desert proper… again, intending to put as many km on the (non-functional) “clock” as possible. And again, stopped in the middle of nowhere to investigate some nasty noise… and discovered the top half of the chainguard had come loose, and was even more mangled than the bottom half I was still carrying. So again – that was removed, and this time – it being in such a bad state – thrown away. And then – an hour or two later… the left foot peg suddenly felt like it really didn’t want to be there, or support my weight at least. Looking into that – on that side of the bike, one bolt had shaken loose, and the frame holding the other bolt on that side… had snapped off. I couldn’t initially replace the missing bolt, so spent quite some time with the peg (and side-stand, being of a piece) – zip-tied to the frame, and not putting any weight on either foot-peg… terrified the whole thing would come off. After 20 or 30km of that – riding with no foot-pegs (on very rough roads… not fun) – I had another go, with the help of some locals, and managed to get a bolt into the left-side of the structure. So – felt a bit more comfortable riding, but still avoiding putting any significant weight on the pegs… so significant bumps were still rather hairy. Eventually crested a hill, and saw sand. A lot of sand… the Khongoryn Dunes. Rather large, impressive. Checked into a small ger camp/camel-hire joint – where the owner/operator was very friendly – invited me into his ger for some greasy lamb ribs being shared around, and then some freshly made local-style soup. All of which looked extremely greasy, and rather unhygienic – but was rather welcome after surviving on chocolate and water for a couple of days.
And today – headed towards asphalt roads… the last few days having convinced me that “boring sealed roads” were underappreciated sometimes. And – meeting a few other bikers today – including some on “proper” bikes, such as a couple who’d ridden their Dakars from Germany, and another couple with a pair of GSs from Belgium… I didn’t feel so bad about being sick of these roads. They all felt the same… even the German couple who’d been riding for the last 10 months were keen to see the end of Mongolian roads/tracks. I enjoy the offroad stuff, even on a crappy little 150cc bike, but the corrugations. So, so many corrugations… just vibrating one until my vision became so blurry I couldn’t even see to pick the smoothest line. Oh – and when I’m opting to ride in sand rather than the corrugations… you know something’s wrong. Anyway – finally did reach some asphalt – and did get thoroughly bored of it very quickly… but it led me to the reasonably sized city of Dalandzadgad – and therefore a reasonably sized hotel, with a nearly-hot shower.
A short boring ride to Karakorum, to visit the old capital of the Mongol Empire. Not much left, as one would expect from a civilisation which mostly prefers to live in yurts/gers. A reasonable museum, which for the first time, gave a concise timeline of the Khans and major events. Also ran into a group riding Royal Enfield Himalayas, from the same company which I rode in Nepal with… had a short chat with the guide.
Then – with dampered excitement – off to see a waterfall – Ulaan Tsutgalan. I kept telling myself “in this country of grasslands/plains/steppes/desert – don’t expect too much from a waterfall”. Still – after a 125km ride, it was hard not to be a little disappointed. It was a reasonable waterfall, with a nice setting – and a big pool down below to swim in. Just… probably not worth the 125km one-way side-trip. And – the nearby ger camps were all over the price-gouging (first time I’ve seen in Mongolia… typically even hotel mini-bar beers are nearly the same price as supermarket) – so, I rode back to less-than-scenic Bat-Ulzii to spend the night.
Next day – another short ride, to get to a decent-sized town, to find a decent-quality-hotel – and watch some rugby. So, arrived in Arvaikheer – and checked into the classiest looking hotel in town (all very relative). Scrambled through the TV channels – no Setanta. Instead, tried to stream the match through local internet… with varying levels of success. Mongolia internet – not fast. But… much more satisfying rugby game, from what I could watch, and… much more satisfying hot shower. In Mongolia, I’m measuring time by hot showers… the metric is roughly equivalent to a week.
Left Moron, didn’t stop being moronic. Got lost almost immediately, on the “roads” which just split randomly in the middle of plains… no signs to signify which are the “roads” and which are just well-worn tracks to people’s yurts/settlements/favourite-swimming-holes. Eventually back-tracked, got back on the correct track… hoping to put in a solid 200+km day… and then realised my chain was rather loose. I’d never checked this, as the chain is completely enclosed in a cover. I discovered it was loose, by it coming off. So, on the side of the road in the stinkin’ hot sun, on a dusty track, I had a crash course in very basic motorbike maintenance… taking the cover off, getting the chain back on, some panelbeating of the chain cover, and then figuring out how to tighten that chain… as it was very, very loose… dragging along the bottom of the chain cover. With that done, and really really hoping I hadn’t completely botched the job – ended up stopping halfway through the intended day’s travel – at the charming little town of Shine-Ider. Shine-Ider has… not much. Some drunks sitting on the steps of a market trying to engage me, not understanding the concept of a language barrier; and a “Pub” which had one bottle of (warm) beer on stock.
Next day, finished the planned route (chain and rear wheel staying on, thus far) – realising the initial idea of a 1-day 220km ride on that particular road had always been a little unrealistic… spent the afternoon riding along the shores of a couple of lakes, before arriving at Tariat. In Tariat – I’d had a guesthouse recommended by the french couple I’d met many days ago – so turned up there. It was indeed a lovely (albeit basic) guesthouse, with a lovely hostess, and some other travellers to chat with. (This has been remarkably rare).
Today – a short ride along boring-old tarmac (to be fair, a bit of a relief/rest), to Tsetserleg – and encountering more and more foreigners on the way (on the road, at the lunch stop, and then in town itself. It seems I’m approaching the typical tourist trail, although I can see no reason why this would be on the tourist trail yet… I suspect a stopover for those heading to the far West?) And on arrival, promptly checked in to a hotel I’d had recommended by the Argentinian couple I’d met in Tariat… who’d mentioned this very morning the mythical “hot shower”. At first attempt – shower was not hot. But after a wander around town, checking out the local museum (I don’t know what I expected – but it was exactly the same as every other museum I’ve seen in Mongolia thus far… I believe I’ve listed the standard items in a Mongol museum previously… it was exactly the same.) Returned to hotel – had another go at the shower… hot! Very pleased. It descended to luke-warm fairly quickly, but the first hot-water in quite some time was very pleasing.
Khatgal, Khankh, Khatgal, Moron – ~550km (can’t be sure – speedo and odometer stopped working in Khankh)
Moron – Khatgal – just 98km or so of tarmac. Got there early, dithered, and eventually decided to just rent a yurt/ger, and drink a couple of beers in the sun.
Next day – figured I’d ride up the East side of the lake, finding some nice views, and picked an offical Mongolian “Camp” to perhaps stay the night. Started riding, fairly early start. Pretty rough going, but a nice change after the tarmac. (After referring to this wee jaunt as a “road” a few times below – I realise I should explain… this is officially, on the maps, a “road”. It is the equivalent of a farm-track on any NZ farm… just the wheel tracks of an oft-used track. And when things get wet, and there’s room to avoid the ruts which have become muddy – just go around. But imagine such a thing with scores of people doing this each day, often in heavy vehicles. The points where you can’t go around – become massive, deep, mud-pits. The point where you can go around – because you’re in the middle of a massive plain – become hundred-metre wide marshes of tyre-tracks. On a bike, neither of these things is cool.) A couple of water crossings. Then a water crossing I got wrong… chose the wrong route, and stalled with the bike in very deep water about 2/3 of the way across the 2nd stage of a river. But – got out of it easily enough, albeit with soaked boots/jeans. (do have that on video) Later in the day, crossed paths with a couple of other bikes, and a truck. At one point, we all stopped for a breather at the same point, at which point chocolates, raisin-juice (? how does that work?), and home-made vodka were shared around. And then – chose the wrong route again, this time through a fairly large section of mud… getting very stuck. Ended up needing the help of the other two bikes, when they arrived, to help lift the bike out. Oh, and then, another mud section… the only way through it was really to skirt it… and while I was doing so, got to a point where I had about 6 inches of solid ground, a tree to the left, mud to the right, leaning over to the right to get around the tree, and then – can’t remember if I stalled or just came to a halt due to the ground/lack-of-momentum – stopped. With a pit to the right, nowhere to put my foot, and just… toppled. Luckily the mud just there was solid enough to be nothing more than a firm mattress, and nothing messier. Neither the bike nor I got more than a little dirt on the side… and easily picked up. But still… my first (only… touch wood) drop of the trip. Oh… and then… got to the point I’d decided I’d just get to the “campsite”, and spend a reasonably comfortable night, before heading back over what had become a little longer and more brutal ride than expected… to find they had no beds available. Or were closed. Or something. Anyway – no rooms at the inn. By this point, I’d become fairly familiar with one of the local bikes riding the same route – and they insisted on me following them all the way to the next town… where they were going. We’d gone 110km, and it had been hard, hard work. The next (and closest) town – only another 70. But I figured – if they were doing it, so could I. So, I did. And mostly kept up… which I was proud of – considering I had a heap of luggage tied on the back, while the other rider had none. Zero luggage. Just the 2 passengers. (To be fair – my luggage was actually slowing me down a fair bit – as one jury-rigged pannier fell off at one point, leading me to stop, swear a fair bit when I realised it was the one with my laptop in, and then spend quite some time over-engineering a re-roping of it. And – his passengers could/did get off at any difficult mud/water crossing – my extra weight, including luggage, stayed on) At some point, it started getting dark. Then, it finished getting dark. And some time after that – that time including riding at relatively high speeds over very rough terrain – we arrived at the signpost welcoming us to the town of Khankh. The other rider, and passengers, insisted I accompany them to his “house” – for a spot of food, which I couldn’t refuse. So – some more cross-country riding in the dark, some food in this nice chap’s yurt, meeting the extended family – and then off to find me a place to sleep. The local over-priced tourist “camp” for russians had one room available, and some beers, and a hot (warm…-ish) shower. I was happy.
Next day – it seems that this close to the Russki border, I was supposed to register myself with the local authorities, before getting any sort of accommodation. Instead, I found some petrol – and headed back down the road I’d just come in on. (Apparently – there was a road down the other side of the lake, so I could have done a circuit – but this road was much much worse than what I’d just done. I couldn’t imagine such a thing, and at the risk of being called cowardly… I coward-ed out of seeing what that might look like). The “road” back… the very same “road” I’d just done… was worse. Much worse. Maybe it was just being sore from the previous day, but there were extended periods where the constant, brutal, incessant, please-stop-this bumping made me pine for the gently corrugations of the Wukhan Valley. There had been more rain, presumably, as there were points where I had to go much, much wider around the official “road” to feel anywhere near like I was going to make it through. The muddy points I had issues with the previous day – no problem. One other one though… another bad choice of route through it… and, very, very stuck. Had to walk to the nearest yurt, ask to borrow a shovel. Knowing full well a shovel wasn’t going to cut it. Luckily, as I started digging, a van turned up with some locals, and again helped me lift the bike out, put back on a sensible path, and off I go. Later on – I saw them stuck in the middle of the very same water crossing I stalled in the previous day… having taken the same route. I smugly took the route I now knew to be the better one, stopped, and tried to help. But – rather difficult to return the favour, when we’re now dealing with a van wheels deep in the middle of a river. They assured me I should “don’t worry, go on”… so I did. Feeling a little guilty, but also relieved, as it was already looking doubtful I’d get back to town in reasonably daylight. But – I did… only 30 minutes or so after sunset… so no need for the lights to ever be turned on (as I’m rollin’ like Mongolians do). Got back to Khatgal, and stayed the night in another yurt, at the same place as two nights ago. Just happy to be there.
Today – a short and quick ride to just get back to Moron, where I decided I’d splash out for a decent hotel – to get wifi to watch rugby, and hopefully a hot shower. And – spend two nights, as after the brutal road up the side of the lake… I don’t think I could spend another day on the bike. It turns out – the shower is disappointing, the rugby was disappointing, but at least I’ve got a day off, and can finally do some laundry.