Mongolia Day 2: A Road is an Opinion

The air is fragrant with the scent of juniper and eucalyptus.  The air chills quickly when the sun sets.  Dinner was beef noodle stew, the beef so tender and, well, beefy as it should be, since cows here actually eat grass.  Free range, roaming, pasture-fed beef.  Every animal around me has the potential to be dinner.  It was welcome, with cups of hot tea simple snacks for dessert.

I crossed the river opposite the camp, finding a trusty stick to help steady myself as I skipped across the rocks and climb up the opposite hill.  Below was our camp, and from the top of the hill the setting sun was casting shadows upon the mountain ridges in the valley, the silence so absolute I could nearly hear the blood pumping in my head.  A cow's skull lay nearby, bleached by the sun.  Dusk was upon us.

Along Khustai National Park

We lit an impressive fire after dinner and Eku recounted a Mongolian fairy tale about 8 brothers that made up the stars in the Big Dipper (here called the Big Spoon) and the North Star.  Eventually we retired to our tents.  Night one.  It was cold.  I'm sure that each night that passes we'll find better methods of settling in, making up our beds, and staying warm.  Fortunately the weather is supposed to continually warm up through the week.

I awoke at sunrise just as the orb was peering over the horizon.  With my camera in hand and still in my pajamas, I slipped on my jacket and hat and went exploring.  Back toward the river, the remains of a sheep were scattered in a field.  A hoof here, leg bone there, a jaw... Someone else had also camped here recently, as a cow's skull was hung up on a tree staring into the rising sun.  The quiet of the morning, rippling of the river over rocks, and the skull standing sentry lent an eerie sense about the place.  

I continued back over another river, climbed up another hill and onto a vast plain with mountains in the distance.  Once again I was overlooking the valley and able to see for at least 50 miles.  Alone again with only the sounds of the the birds to keep me company. When I returned to camp after crossing back over the river, I discovered my pajama pants were covered with dew and mud.  After breakfast I took the pants and a bottle of shampoo down to the river to wash them.  This was roughing it.  Was this how the locals did their laundry?  It was a successful venture, meaning I didn't fall into the river, so I had half the mind to do the rest of my wash.  The pants are hanging to dry in the sun and breeze, and all is well again.

...

Outside Khustai National Park

After packing up camp we headed out on a 4 hour drive through the steppe toward Madsujir monastery. Before I get into detail about our hike, it is worth devoting space to discuss the road situation here.  I use the term "road" loosely. Very, very loosely. Not even a dirt path.  Sometimes tire markings to follow.  Sometimes, just turn.  Right there.  Turn.  No road.  No markings, just drive wherever.  If the animals roam free, so do the vehicles.  Where there is a dirt road, part of it can become washed out and a new path is made around it.  There could be an number of trails woven and cross-crossing the countryside.  At one point as we neared a strip mining area, there was no telling what was a road and what looked to be bombed landscape.  Construction vehicles, cows, and ravines.  When we finally did hit tarmac again, Fay and I cheered.  I didn't care where where we went next, as long as we stayed on pavement.  Just trying to hold on inside the car was exhausting enough.  Turns out this is all completely normal for Mongolia.  

We followed a river through the valley for a while and passed an army base where a female legion was running drills.  Instead of driving through the madness of UB again, we took a "shortcut" south of the city through an industrial zone.  More mining and factories.  Burning tires.  This time the "road" was a dried out ravine.  Eventually we made our way into Tov province into the provincial capital of Zoormud.  A quaint little town where we stopped for some reinforcements.  There was pavement! 

Right outside this town was where we stopped for the afternoon to visit the Madsujir monastery.  The landscape changed from grass-strewn steppe and hills to mountains of rocky cliffs and tall evergreens.  The higher the peaks, the more plentiful the conifers.  Buddhists set up a monastery on a cliff side because they believed the site was magic: trees usually grow in a valley along a river, not in reverse.  We parked for a quick lunch and began our hike.

Madsujir was built in the 18th century but destroyed by Stalin's thugs in the 1930s. By the 1990s it started to get some restoration attention, but work has been slow.  The site used to host 1000 monks.  A large iron cauldron set nearby, once able to feed the entire community.  Ancient stone carvings stood nearby, either figurines or writings in Sanskrit or ancient Mongolian script.  

Mandshiir Monastery

We hiked throughout the site, up to the main temples, then upward yet still to smaller temple huts with rock paintings of Buddhist spirits.  Each site was blessed with gifts of colored scarves, money, milk, and other offerings.  We decided to head yet higher up the steep cliff face.  There are no railings, no steps, no signs, no direction.  This isn't America. This was the wild East.  We made our own path until we reached a section of the cliff where we could sit, rest, and soak in the vista.  We were high above the site where kids below we're shouting up to us and we'd whistle in return.  We could see for miles and miles, mountains of grass and evergreens.  Eku said it was one of the most beautiful places in the country.  And there we sat, the three of us, the only ones a thousand feet above the ruins, relaxing.  We wouldn't be able to do this with a tour group.  

The climb down was adventurous, being careful to find our footing amongst the boulders and pebbles, our grip against other rocks and minding some of the plants that were itchy to the touch.  Instead of heading straight down, we marched diagonally across the ruins, leaping from rock to rock of what were formerly foundations of the buildings.  Into the evergreen forest we went until we found a white temple topped with gold scimitars and the Mongolian mark.  We were again alone amongst the pines, just us and a shrine and the sunshine peeking peeking through the branches.  We paused to take in the silence, then made our way back to the car.  Nothing here is straightforward.  On the walk back, we encountered a herd of horses amongst the trees, and the local tourists were just as giddy as we were, if not more.  We finally made camp that night in an open valley just outside town and watched young boys on horseback herd their animals back to their corrals.  Eku once again delivered a delicious beef and rice stew.  The night was silent, and Fay and I slept  a bit better now that we're getting the hang of how to configure our sleeping bags.  The next morning we would set out for Terelj National Park, but not before we were awakened by the neigh of horses surrounding us.