I was due a
lazy day so after installing new rear brake pads, adjusting and lubricating the
chain on my motorcycle I settled back on the bed in my Moron hotel and planned
the next day’s ride then did little else.
The following morning after an 8.00 am breakfast, I packed,
loaded my bike and prepared to set off on the eighty (80) kilometre ride to
Lake Hovsgol National Park. Upon showing my map of Mongolia to the hotel
maintenance man to double check directions out of town I became concerned by
the reply I received. He held up his forearms in a crossed (X) position, indicating
NO and then motioned that the road was flooded after a full day and night of rain
in the area, not good news at all. I then double checked with the security
guard and received the same reply. A Mongolian hotel guest within ear shot of
our discussion suggested that I would be able to cross the flooded causeway on
my motorcycle, and I should head off to the Lake, so I did. I rode North on the
best tarred road in Mongolia thinking that if the road is flooded it has been a
great ride anyway, riding through lush green grassy plains broken by winding
rivers and a pretty mountain back drop. After seventy (70) kilometres I could
see several vehicles stoped on the road ahead and realised that this must be the
flooded causeway, as the causeway came into full view I knew I was not going
any further North that day. It was not so much the depth of the water but the
speed of the water, it was a raging torrent just under one (1) metre deep. I
watched on as several cars that had attempted the crossing were towed away,
trucks and 4 x 4’s crossed without any trouble but cars were unable to cross
successfully, so I waited about two (2) hours hoping the water would subside,
only to watch the rain clouds form up the valley dumping more rain and raise
the water level once again. I returned to the same hotel in Moron for the night,
deciding I would try again the following day.
Lake Hovsgol, also referred to as Hovsgol Nuur is regarded
as “the Blue Pearl of Mongolia”, the exceptionally pristine lake is one of 17
ancient lakes worldwide and is estimated to be between two (2) and five (5)
million years old. The lake is 136 kilometres long, 20 – 40 kilometres wide,
and up to 260 metres deep, it contains nearly 70 % of all fresh water in
Mongolia. Lake Hovsgol freezes over for many months during winter and because
of its proximity to border, once served as a transport route for trucks and
cars that carried people and goods over the ice between Hatgal and Russia, a
practice now forbidden to prevent pollution. The surrounding National Park
thrives with 68 species of mammals, and is home to marmots, argali sheep, ibex,
brown bear, wolf, Siberian moose, sable, roe deer and perhaps even snow leopard.
Bird life is also varied, most of the 244 species that visit the Park migrate
long distance between their nesting grounds in the Park and warmer winter
refuges in distant countries.
That evening in my Tee Pee I sparked up a nice
fire in the pot belly stove, relaxed, then had a great night’s sleep, waking
briefly to the sound of horses ripping up and chewing the fresh green grass
outside my Tee Pee. The following morning I ate a king’s breakfast, including
cereal with yogurt and hot milk, bacon and eggs, a banana pancake and a nice
hot mug of coffee to wash it down, such a special breakfast has been a rarity
on my travels to date. I then set off for the return journey to Moron, laughing
to myself as I crossed the troublesome causeway which was now a mere trickle with
a vehicle stopped midway and the driver ankle deep in the water washing his van.
Back at the now familiar hotel accommodation in Moron I meet
Alena and Marcel a young couple who have ridden a tandem recumbent bicycle from
their home in Germany through Europe, the Pamir Highway in Tajikistan, parts of
China to SE Asia back through parts of China and around Mongolia over an
eighteen month period, they said they are enjoying themselves so much they are
now planning to ride parts of Africa.
I still have a lot of ground to cover in Mongolia, so the
following morning I set off towards Mongolia’s Western border with map and
compass close at hand and seven (7) days left on my visa. My day one (1) goal
was an overnight stay in Tsetserleg (same name town as I have stayed in
previously, but different location). After several hours riding West on the
dirt track highway and just outside the small town of Burentogtoh I meet 5 men
from the Czech Republic, one (1) riding a BMW GS 1200, one (1) riding a BMW GS
1150, one (1) riding a BMW GS 800, one (1) riding a Aprilia 1000 and one (1)
riding a Yamaha 1200 Tenere all having a great time riding through Russia and
Mongolia, they then plan to enter back into Russia, visiting the deepest lake
in the world, Lake Baikal, then on to Irkutsk before boarding a train with
their motorcycles for the return trip home.
After talking motorcycles
and travel plans I ride on to Burenhaan where I stop for a drink and a photo
outside a shop in the small town, before continuing on to Tsagaan Uul. In
Tsagaan Uul I stop and ask a young guy sitting on his motorcycle for directions
and he kindly guides me through the small town and back onto the dirt track
highway.
I reach Tsetserleg without further incident, park my bike
and enter a small general store to enquire about a meal and a bed for the night,
I am greeted by an elderly lady with a big smile and a lovely friendly demeanour
chatting away to me in Mongolian, I have no idea what she said, and she had no
idea what I said, but my motioning eating and sleeping worked a treat and
leaving her granddaughter in change of the shop we exit and wander off down the
street. She first leads me through a fenced yard into a small structure with
several tables and chairs, introduces me to the woman occupant and smiles,
happy one (1) of my two requests is now satisfied. We exit the restaurant and
walk past several houses to another fenced yard and a house with two (2)
different coloured doors to enter the premises. It appears no one is home so we
exit the yard and walk another block and enter what appears to be a small government
building, a woman answers my new friend’s calls and soon enough I am back at
the house viewing my bed for the night. My happy companion, not satisfied to
leave me having achieved both my requests, then escorts me back to the
restaurant, sits with me drinking tea while I eat a meal, walks me back to her
house and with great pride shows me her garden, her house, introduces me to her
grandchildren and happily poses for a photo with me. What a lovely lady. I then
settle into my dorm like accommodation for the night hoping the next day’s
destination of Tes has such a fortunate outcome.
I wake through the night to the sound of rain and the
following morning it is apparent there had been quite a lot of rain. I ride
away from Tsetserleg in sunny skies, but the dirt track highway is now mud
puddle after mud puddle, no fun at all on a two hundred and twenty (220) plus
kilogram top heavy motorcycle. Not too far out of town I am confronted with a
very wide, wet, and muddy section of track, with no other options I ride into
the water, make it out the other side but without warning, spin 180 degrees and
fall over. With the ground below me slippery as ice I wait for the vehicle I
had passed several minutes earlier to reach me and ask the occupants for
assistance to right the bike. In forward motion again and about thirty (30)
kilometres further down the muddy track I move to one (1) side of the track to
give way to a huge four wheeled, 4wd truck, stop, dismount and meet a great
young British couple in an ex-army truck with a fully kitted out mobile home on
the back. They top up my water bottles for me, offer advice on track conditions
ahead and give me a grand tour of their vehicle, I am so impressed with the
vehicle and after the difficult riding conditions of that morning I offer to
swap transportation, the young man said he would love to travel by motorcycle
but his girlfriend was not taken with the idea.
I continue on and as the hours pass the track dries out and
I make steady progress, I am brought to a halt at the sight of a flock of very
large Eagles gathered on the track edge, a flock is not really a strong enough
word for these large impressive birds, perhaps a gang or an army of Eagles
would be more fitting, I take several photos and move off, leaving the birds to
hunt whatever it is that they prey on in the grassy plains environment they
occupy.
I stop for lunch in the small town of Bayantes, eating Khuushuur,
fried pastries containing diced meat, a standard fare across Mongolia. I eat
two (2) while the men at the next table chow down on plates of six (6) or seven
(7) each.
I arrived in the small town of Tes late afternoon, use the
same tactic to find a meal and accommodation as I used successfully in
Tsetserleg, achieving the same result but without the wonderful warm welcome of
the previous day. I ate a nice meal, place the bed mattress on the floor so as
not to wake up with a bad back due to the non-existent spring support in the
bed, and had such a good night’s sleep I was up, packed and back on the dirt
track highway by 9.00 am.
It was about midday when I rode into the small town of
Baruunturuum and as I approached a row of structures resembling old railway
carriages or site sheds the smell in the air forces me to stop at the doorway
of one shed to investigate. As I climb off my motorcycle a young man with a
bright silver toothed smile gesture me to come inside, upon entry the smell of
freshly cooked food is too good to resist, so I sit down and eat a plate of
meat, potato’s and pasta, very fresh and delicious. After eating I chat to my
host about motorcycles, where I had ridden on my adventures and take a few
photos.
Being so close to a sizable town meant more vehicles on the
road, meaning more inquisitive people stopping to see what I was doing. The
first three (3) young men to stop looked on, but did not touch my luggage or
other items I had removed from my bike. It was when I had just about finished
fitting the patched tube and replaced the old tyre with the new one I had been
carrying that the unwanted drama unfolded. Three (3) young very drunk men
appeared, one (1) in particular was the nuisance, looking at and touching everything
in sight and trying to remove and view everything out of sight as well. Job
finished, I was ready to move on but the nuisance drunk took a liking to my
jacket and gloves and wanted money for their return, I called his bluff, I shook
hands with the other men, thanked them for their help, then told nuisance man
that everyone in Mongolia had been very friendly and the country is beautiful,
but he was an arsehole and he could keep the f#@king jacket and gloves, I
started my bike and knocked it into gear as if to ride off. As I had hoped, he
saw his wrong doing, removed my jacket and gloves, shook hands and left,
relieved at the outcome I put on my gear and rode off, reaching Ulaangom at
7.45 pm after a very long, taxing day.
When I woke the following morning I was unsure whether to
move on or have a rest day, after the previous day I was still a little spent,
but after a hearty hotel breakfast I decide to pack and hit the road. I rode
out of town for about fifteen (15) kilometres, crossed an easy stream of river
to a centre patch of ground, but balk at a deeper stream of the same river, I
wait a while, then three (3) locals turn up on two (2) motorcycle’s, the first
man doesn’t hesitate, bouncing from one submerged boulder to the next, his
construction style helmet and his hat both ending up in the river, he made it
to the other side and raced down stream to recover his helmet and his hat. The
second man, carrying a pillion was not so lucky, he made it mid-way, hit a
large submerged rock and came to an abrupt halt, he now had wet boots and a
drowned bike, his pillion was determined not to get wet boots and with legs held
high, removed his boots, socks and rolled up his trousers before getting off
the bike and wading to the other side, leaving the rider to push the bike
through the water and on to the river bank, without a second thought I decided
I did not want to risk drowning my bike and returned to Ulaangom to find an
alternative route towards my next border crossing.
Back in town I quickly plotted an alternative
route and set off out of town in a Westerly direction, counting the kilometres
to a turn off that would lead me South, skirting several 4000 metre snow-capped
peaks, and ride over a 2520 metre mountain to the town of Olgly. When I reached
the turn off, I stopped and questioned three (3) men parked on the road side in
a Toyota Landcruiser, checking that I had the correct road, one (1) of the men
was a sleep in the front passenger’s seat, one (1) of the men replied to my
questions in reasonable English “follow us that is where we are going”. I then
noticed a number of Vodka bottles on the ground surrounding the Landcruiser and
then the shot glass in the hand of the driver, apart from the man passed out,
they still seemed fairly coherent. Driving a newish 4 x 4 I knew I would have a
tough job keeping up, add alcohol and my job gets tougher, they set a cracking
pace but there regular stop’s for toilet breaks, or to chat to a local and
share a shot of Vodka, or at branch tracks, allowed me time to catch up and the
day turned out to be a great one.
The scenery was spectacular, the snow-capped peaks, the
lakes, the mountain road, and the locals waving as I passed their Gers. The
highlight though was being invited into what I assume was a prearranged lunch
stop with friends of the three (3) men in the Landcruiser. As we entered the
tiny town of Achitnuur, the men parked their vehicle outside a house and called
me over, gesturing eating I thought it must have been a small restaurant, not
wanting to intrude, I said I’d wait with the bike, they would have none of that
and invited me in to a one (1) room shed in the back corner of the fenced yard.
The lunch presentation was impressive, there was pastries, cheese, yogurt, several
cakes, biscuits, chocolates, milk tea to drink, and of course, more vodka. The
host was a stunningly beautiful woman of Kazakh heritage, her three daughters
and son were sat watching a huge flat screen TV in the corner of the room.
While the men and I ate pastries the host applied the finishing touches to an
overflowing plate of pasta and meat, which we all shared, what a feast, after
finishing I motioned for a monetary donation, but received the reply, “No, this
is Kazakh way”, so I thanked the host and we hit the track again. After many
more stops throughout the afternoon we reached the town of Olgly, I thanked the
men for a great day and I settled into hotel accommodation for the night.
During my time in Olgly, I did a lot of relaxing, ate a
great breakfast each morning in the hotel café, where the owner made the best,
or only, apple jam I have even eaten, it was so delicious I asked for and
received the recipe so I can try to replicate it where I return home. Meat features
in the Mongolian diet, so another meal I also enjoyed was a large fall off the
bone lamb dish that was pretty damned good too, few vegies but plenty of meat.
After four (4) days in Olgly, twenty nine (29) thoroughly
enjoyable days in Mongolia and with only one (1) day left on my visa, I packed
my motorcycle, ate one last hotel café breakfast with extra apple jam and rode
my last one hundred (100) kilometres in Mongolia on a mix of dirt and tarred
road, taking time to photograph a couple of kids that ran and rode over to me as
I was stopped on the road side in chilly conditions. I then exited Mongolia via
the Tsagaannuur border post, rode up to and stopped at a closed three (3) metre
high steel gate and waited only moments to be allowed into Russia, my current
adventure destination.
No comments:
Post a Comment