We backed ourselves to arrange our next weekend trip alone. Our target was Khustain National Park, near to Ulaanbaatar, and famed for rugged scenery and wildlife. In particular, is houses the Takhi, the only remaining species of truly wild horse in the world.
We sought advice from the State Tourist Office, and the man we met there decided he liked us so much that he wanted to come with us! Well, why not? His name was Tulga, he’s about our age, and he had grown up in the national park.
Day 1
The vast park is little more than 100km from UB, but the dirt roads which lead there truly terrible. Tulga had organised for us to stay in a family ger in a remote valley. The natural choice for 50km of off-road driving was a Toyota Prius.
It performed very admirably, with only the occasional bash or clunk. Much later we learned that the Prius is nicknamed “the flying coffin”. But ignorance is bliss. Anything a Landrover can do, a Prius can do better.
Despite the gargantuan potholes that regularly saw us tilted skyward, or wincing as the car bottom scraped on rock, we were on a great safari ride. We spotted the takhi, white deer, ground squirrels, and our favourite: the marmot!
A word on Mongolian marmots: they are like fat, ungainly beavers. They don’t run, but rather lollop like a dumpling. And according to Tulga, they are delicious! They were out of season at the time, but we were solemnly assured that “they taste even better than horse”. We have seen some incredible wildlife on this trip, but the marmot is still our favourite; they are just hilarious.
We paused at an ancient burial site to wait for our host. The view of the steppe and mountains was glorious, and wetted our appetites for a weekend of hiking.
The stones figures were about 5000 years old, variously depicting people or animals. Adjacent to them stood a square tomb, the ancient resting place of a minor noble of the steppe.
I was feeling pretty unwell after our weird night out and the strain of an international squash tournament (see the other blog post for more details). But Alex was on top form and asked to drive the Prius, and joined Tulga on the back of the motorbike for the last 5km to the ger.
Our accommodation was in a true family ger, complete with livestock, motorbike, and wasteland. This was to be our first experience of true nomadic life, and we were blown away!
Tulga haltingly introduced us to our host, whose husband was away with the flock. In fact, he didn’t return for three days, so we presume he was spending his nights at other gers.
We sat down to the customary greeting of tea (ie hot, savoury, salty milk) and dinner was served in a matter of minutes. Tulga couldn’t wait, so he started tucking in to a spare sheep’s head. He didn’t even let us try the eyeballs because they were too delicious!
In every respect we were treated wonderfully by our host, despite the impassable language barrier. But that first dinner was an awful shock. Salted rice soup with mutton jerky and fat.
Jenny took a hilarious bullet for the team by accidentally asking for seconds! Emily and Alex nobly volunteered to share the extra bowl.
It was no comfort when Tulga reassured us that “tail fat doesn’t contain any cholesterol”. Spoiler: he’s wrong. It was a steep learning curve in Mongolian food, and not something we want to repeat!
That evening, Tulga and our driver cracked out the Chinggis beers and we settled down to an evening of cards and ankle bone games.
Every Mongolian knows a card game called Mushik, which is very similar to hearts but must be played with five players. Our hostess beat us all emphatically.
Then we moved on to ankle bone games. The ankle bones of a sheep have four sides, named the camel, horse, sheep and goat. The idea is to win all of the bones by flicking them against each other in a particular order. It is brilliant!
Then Tulga announced that the girls should go to sleep while the boys went outside for “man-time”. Alex reports that this consisted of more beers in the back of the Prius and discussions on the meaning of life.
Day 2
Next morning, we woke alone in the ger, and set out on a hike. We walked up the valley in search of a high peak, marking way points on our phone (super-nerdy fun).
Side note: Carcasses litter the landscape in Mongolia. Every winter, the nomads lose about ten million animals, around one sixth of their total stock.
We sheltered in the shade of a boulder near the summit, which looked out over a picturesque valley. We lunched, sunbathed, and read.
We got back by about 4pm, and relaxed in the ger until our hostess returned. She took one look at Jenny, mimed “sleep”, and prepared some bedding. To avoid committing some unknown social faux-pas, Jenny obeyed this enforced nap.
Side note: a ger is always left unlocked. The nomadic people depend on each other when shepherding their flocks, and their hospitality extends to use of the ger even when the owners are away. Locks on gers are something to reassure tourists. If you wanted to break into a locked ger, all you would need to do is cut a hole in the felt wall.
While Jenny slept, Alex asked permission to take the motorbike out for a spin. No problem! That’s the story of how he learned to ride a manual bike in the wastes of Mongolia…
Mercifully, we were able to cook for ourselves that evening. We prepared the meal over the cow-dung fire. Our signature fusion dish of chilli-lamb-bolognaise was surprisingly edible! Even our hostess enjoyed it!
Just after sunset, we made a quick scramble to the summit of the nearest hill. We were rewarded with a view of the horizon in the gathering dark. We raced back to the safety of the ger (there are wolves out here, you know!) and marveled at the shadows cast by the full moon.
Day 3
Next morning, we set out for a particularly dramatic summit at the Southern end of valley. We climbed steadily to a panoramic plateau before the final push to the rocky peak.
The old remnants of a large bird’s nest were laid on the sharp granite. It was one of the highest peaks for several miles. Brilliant! Emily spotted a massive stag galloping across the steppe below, and we had an early lunch on cheap biscuits.
An almost Martian landscape!
Our return journey to UB was interesting, to say the least… The old Prius was racing against a sandstorm coming from the North West. The driver pushed her too hard and we came off the dirt track in a torrent of dust and twigs. Soon after, we got lost and had to fall back on the local GPS (ger positioning system) to ask for directions…
The rest of the drive went smoothly and we got back to the blessed apartment alive! Return drive aside, it had been a brilliant weekend in the remote and pristine Khustain.
The Mongolia Ambulance Project 