Bayan-Olgii, Mongolia
Well, currently the internet is down in the whole of town as I write. Western Mongolia certainly has quirks like this. Earlier in Ulaangom, the electricity would often go out in parts of town, unreliably being provided by the Russians. Banks would get out their generators, while I was resigned to cold showers. In fact, I feel lucky to get even a cold shower, and in heaven if it is hot. From Ulaangom, I hitchhiked to Bayan-Olgii, and it turned out to be a crazy adventure.
My first destination along the way was Uureg Nuur, a lake in the mountains between Ulaangom and Bayan-Olgii. So I walked along the road out of Ulaangom, and managed to get a (paid) ride to Turgen, the last village before the lake. It was noon, so I was heading into town to grab a bite to eat, when a local on his motorcycle stopped and offered me a ride the rest of the way into town. He then graciously invited me into his house and offered me stewed mutton, then sent me on my way. I continued walking down the road, which lead into stark mountains straight ahead. The rocky mountains ahead and light rain made me feel like I was in a scene from Lord of the Rings. After many minutes, a car came down this road and stopped for me. A middle aged man was driving his parents back to their village. We managed to converse in Russian, and I learned that he was the director of the school in his town, and his own children were in Ulaanbaatar for college.
He dropped me off at Uureg Nuur in rolling clouds and light mist. Yurts and mountains towering above the lake were in the distance, and so I struck off in that direction. Soon, I reached the yurt clusters, and a horseman rode up to greet me. Without much ado, he invited me into his yurt. Soon, 5 curious Mongolians piled in to come see me. In the West, they are much more excited about the tourists than in the center of the country. They were also highly amused by my camera, and proceeded to take tons of pictures with me. That evening, some travelling musicians were staying at Uureg Nuur too: a Mongolian, a man from Inner Mongolia, and a Buryat man. They were holding a performance in one of the yurts, and probably 50 people from all the surrounding communities of Uureg Nuur were crammed in to watch. They sang acapella, sometimes solo, sometimes in chorus, and once one of them even did the Mongolian throat singing! I was amazed, and couldn't believe that I got to hear it in person. The Mongolian audience was pretty laid back, and it was acceptable to talk during performances. At the end, the audience even sang two songs back at the musicians before calling it a night.
The next day, I rented a horse from one guy, and rode it out to the mountains, where I tied it up and did some climbing. Watching the lake below, it was so silent except for the wind, and still but for the occasional bird of prey or mouse. There were also a few elongated looking bunny things I chased around with my horse. It was a great time at Uureg Nuur, and that night I camped towards the main road by the lake. I ended up walking for half the next day in search of the road to Bayan-Olgii since I grossly underestimated the distances on the flat looking plains. So I finally reached the road, and sat for two hours, and no vehicles came. A rainstorm did, however. The winds howled, and my Russian poncho ripped at the seams, that piece of shit. There was absolutely no cover, and I was on my knees trying to keep my poncho together and stay dry. During a break in the rains, I decided to ditch the poncho idea to pitch tent, and give up on the cars until the next day. Just as I finished, I spotted a jeep on the horizon. I wanted to get out very badly, so I enthusiastically waved it down. The driver was really kind, and I took down my tent and got into the nice, warm jeep. The jeep appeared to be a share jeep from Ulaangom. Two mining engineers got off at a mining camp for the week's work ahead, and the other two ladies were going to various yurts in the countryside. In the middle of the ride, the driver stopped the jeep at his parents' yurt and went inside to eat dinner. He even invited me in to eat as well; they were eating a stewed sheep, ripping meat straight off the bones. In the end, I ended up in a town called Bokomoron, where the driver lived. He invited me to stay with him in his yurt in the edge of town, and I gladly went out of the cold cold night.
No cars were going from Bokomoron to Bayan Olgii, and it lay on the less travelled road between Ulaangom and Olgii. I decided to walk 7 km to the next village and try my luck there. The road was just tracks in the ground, more like a large hiking trail than a road. I was told there was a river in the way, but there turned out to be more like 4 rivers in the way. Fourtunately they were only knee deep, so I rolled up my pants and forded the freezing water. The next village was in sight, and I was almost there, when the road sank into a marsh. Forced to slog through the marsh, I gave up wearing shoes, and splashed through countless streams and wet bumpy marshy things, trying not to slip or get stuck in the mud. Marshes suck. The locals get through on horses, but I unfortunately didn't have one. It took over an hour to probably go only a little over a mile, but I made it.
Nugannuur was built out of rock slabs in a sandy landscape, and settled by many Kazakh people. Kazakhs are a majority in all of Bayan Olgii, and their culture is more preserved here than in Kazakhstan, due to the former Soviet control there. Nugannuur is a small town without a resturaunt, but at the gas station I found a car going to Bayan Olgii. They took me on for a sum of money, and respected the Mongolian tradition of taking forever to leave (though they were Kazakh). They loaded up their car with stuff, got some kids, drove them to their parents' yurt, and invited me in for more tea and biscuits. We then drove, and though there was something wrong with the car's engine torque, we made it all the way to Bayan Olgii!
Soon after I arrived, a man said hi to me, tried to talk for a little, then invited me to stay with him in his place. He turned out to run a small store, and he and his family lived in the rooms behind it. So I slept there for the night, and the second day, not wanting to intrude on hospitality, and really wanting a shower, I took a room in a hotel, and finally had my hot shower! Then I went around trying to find a driver/hiking buddies to go to trekking in Altai Bogd park with. So far I have met a mountain guide, an American peace corp guy, and gotten numerous phone numbers of tour guides. But Mongolian life is slow and unhurried... It has rubbed off on me. I unconcernedly wander town, buying cold weather supplies, and generally in a state of relaxation and in an unhurried, planless state as I try to find hiking buddies.
Well, currently the internet is down in the whole of town as I write. Western Mongolia certainly has quirks like this. Earlier in Ulaangom, the electricity would often go out in parts of town, unreliably being provided by the Russians. Banks would get out their generators, while I was resigned to cold showers. In fact, I feel lucky to get even a cold shower, and in heaven if it is hot. From Ulaangom, I hitchhiked to Bayan-Olgii, and it turned out to be a crazy adventure.
My first destination along the way was Uureg Nuur, a lake in the mountains between Ulaangom and Bayan-Olgii. So I walked along the road out of Ulaangom, and managed to get a (paid) ride to Turgen, the last village before the lake. It was noon, so I was heading into town to grab a bite to eat, when a local on his motorcycle stopped and offered me a ride the rest of the way into town. He then graciously invited me into his house and offered me stewed mutton, then sent me on my way. I continued walking down the road, which lead into stark mountains straight ahead. The rocky mountains ahead and light rain made me feel like I was in a scene from Lord of the Rings. After many minutes, a car came down this road and stopped for me. A middle aged man was driving his parents back to their village. We managed to converse in Russian, and I learned that he was the director of the school in his town, and his own children were in Ulaanbaatar for college.
He dropped me off at Uureg Nuur in rolling clouds and light mist. Yurts and mountains towering above the lake were in the distance, and so I struck off in that direction. Soon, I reached the yurt clusters, and a horseman rode up to greet me. Without much ado, he invited me into his yurt. Soon, 5 curious Mongolians piled in to come see me. In the West, they are much more excited about the tourists than in the center of the country. They were also highly amused by my camera, and proceeded to take tons of pictures with me. That evening, some travelling musicians were staying at Uureg Nuur too: a Mongolian, a man from Inner Mongolia, and a Buryat man. They were holding a performance in one of the yurts, and probably 50 people from all the surrounding communities of Uureg Nuur were crammed in to watch. They sang acapella, sometimes solo, sometimes in chorus, and once one of them even did the Mongolian throat singing! I was amazed, and couldn't believe that I got to hear it in person. The Mongolian audience was pretty laid back, and it was acceptable to talk during performances. At the end, the audience even sang two songs back at the musicians before calling it a night.
The next day, I rented a horse from one guy, and rode it out to the mountains, where I tied it up and did some climbing. Watching the lake below, it was so silent except for the wind, and still but for the occasional bird of prey or mouse. There were also a few elongated looking bunny things I chased around with my horse. It was a great time at Uureg Nuur, and that night I camped towards the main road by the lake. I ended up walking for half the next day in search of the road to Bayan-Olgii since I grossly underestimated the distances on the flat looking plains. So I finally reached the road, and sat for two hours, and no vehicles came. A rainstorm did, however. The winds howled, and my Russian poncho ripped at the seams, that piece of shit. There was absolutely no cover, and I was on my knees trying to keep my poncho together and stay dry. During a break in the rains, I decided to ditch the poncho idea to pitch tent, and give up on the cars until the next day. Just as I finished, I spotted a jeep on the horizon. I wanted to get out very badly, so I enthusiastically waved it down. The driver was really kind, and I took down my tent and got into the nice, warm jeep. The jeep appeared to be a share jeep from Ulaangom. Two mining engineers got off at a mining camp for the week's work ahead, and the other two ladies were going to various yurts in the countryside. In the middle of the ride, the driver stopped the jeep at his parents' yurt and went inside to eat dinner. He even invited me in to eat as well; they were eating a stewed sheep, ripping meat straight off the bones. In the end, I ended up in a town called Bokomoron, where the driver lived. He invited me to stay with him in his yurt in the edge of town, and I gladly went out of the cold cold night.
No cars were going from Bokomoron to Bayan Olgii, and it lay on the less travelled road between Ulaangom and Olgii. I decided to walk 7 km to the next village and try my luck there. The road was just tracks in the ground, more like a large hiking trail than a road. I was told there was a river in the way, but there turned out to be more like 4 rivers in the way. Fourtunately they were only knee deep, so I rolled up my pants and forded the freezing water. The next village was in sight, and I was almost there, when the road sank into a marsh. Forced to slog through the marsh, I gave up wearing shoes, and splashed through countless streams and wet bumpy marshy things, trying not to slip or get stuck in the mud. Marshes suck. The locals get through on horses, but I unfortunately didn't have one. It took over an hour to probably go only a little over a mile, but I made it.
Nugannuur was built out of rock slabs in a sandy landscape, and settled by many Kazakh people. Kazakhs are a majority in all of Bayan Olgii, and their culture is more preserved here than in Kazakhstan, due to the former Soviet control there. Nugannuur is a small town without a resturaunt, but at the gas station I found a car going to Bayan Olgii. They took me on for a sum of money, and respected the Mongolian tradition of taking forever to leave (though they were Kazakh). They loaded up their car with stuff, got some kids, drove them to their parents' yurt, and invited me in for more tea and biscuits. We then drove, and though there was something wrong with the car's engine torque, we made it all the way to Bayan Olgii!
Soon after I arrived, a man said hi to me, tried to talk for a little, then invited me to stay with him in his place. He turned out to run a small store, and he and his family lived in the rooms behind it. So I slept there for the night, and the second day, not wanting to intrude on hospitality, and really wanting a shower, I took a room in a hotel, and finally had my hot shower! Then I went around trying to find a driver/hiking buddies to go to trekking in Altai Bogd park with. So far I have met a mountain guide, an American peace corp guy, and gotten numerous phone numbers of tour guides. But Mongolian life is slow and unhurried... It has rubbed off on me. I unconcernedly wander town, buying cold weather supplies, and generally in a state of relaxation and in an unhurried, planless state as I try to find hiking buddies.
Uureg Nuur