Surviving in the semi-desert
Mongolia | Anno 2013
Monday, July 15 | Ulaanbaatar – Dalanzadgad – Bayanzag
Tuesday, July 16 | Bayanzag – Khongoryn Els
Wednesday, July 17 | Khongoryn Els – Yolyn Am
Thursday, July 18 | Yolyn Am – Dalangadzad – Ulaanbaatar
Monday, July 15 | Ulaanbaatar – Dalanzadgad – Bayanzag
The landscape sliding beneath the Fokker 50 of Aero Mongolia becomes increasingly sandy and dry. Gradually, we can even distinguish dunes. Clearly, we are approaching the Gobi.
Dalanzadgad – Airport
Through a dense cloud cover, we descend toward Dalanzadgad. A spectacular halo of spectral colours appears around the shadow of the airplane on the white clouds below us. Buddha's light, they call this natural phenomenon in China.
A spectacular halo of spectral colours appears around the shadow of the airplane on the white clouds below us – Buddha's light
Amid a sunny landscape, we land just after nine on the paved runway of Gurvan Saikhan Airport – until 2007, planes landed here on a gravel strip. Puddles suggest that it has recently rained. A somewhat chilly wind greets us.
Four Mitsubishi Delicas are waiting for us. Space will not be an issue in these spacious four-wheel-drive vans. Less than half an hour after landing, we are on our way to Dalanzadgad to forage for water in a small supermarket. This is the capital of Ömnögovi, or South Gobi, the largest province in Mongolia – about the same size as Tunisia. Actually, all of Mongolia's southern provinces are quite large, but they are also very sparsely populated. Together, they form the Gobi Desert.
Shepherd on motorcycle herding goats
In recent years, Dalanzadgad has been developing at a rapid pace. The city owes this growth primarily to the mining of coal, copper, and gold in the surrounding area. It has a population of 57 000, while the province boasts more than 93 000 camels, our guide Batmunkh informs us. The connection between the two isn't immediately clear to us.
At times, one wonders if the four drivers even have the same destination in mind
Today, our ride will take us approximately one hundred kilometres northwest, with the Gurvan Saikhan, the Three Beauties, on our left. They are a foothill of the Altai Mountains, and the airport is named after them.
Through the steppe on the way to the Gobi desert
Given the heavy rain showers from last night, we are told that the drivers will take it a bit slower. For now, we don’t notice any change, as we glide smoothly through the sparsely vegetated steppe in the midst of an immense landscape. The winding track frequently branches off in thin ribbons; sometimes it splits, while at other times it merges back into a single path. However, it generally seems to be moving toward a fixed point on the horizon. Each driver has their own highly personal opinion on which track is the best. At times, one wonders if the four drivers even have the same destination in mind. Here and there, there are large puddles of water, but the sun continues to shine.
Gers in the steppe
After just under an hour, we stop on a small elevation. The steppe stretches endlessly in all directions, covered only with pebbles and sparse growth of short, grass-like plants. Isolated clouds silently drift overhead, casting their dark shadows across the steppe.
Nomad family
A little further ahead, we see two gers, the traditional round white tents of Mongolian nomads. They draw us in like a magnet. Overwhelmed by our unexpected presence, two men, two women, and three children gaze at us somewhat awkwardly. The clicking cameras astonish them, but they graciously accept the cigarettes. The candies and ballpoint pens are also welcomed. Two dogs remain unfazed by the commotion, lounging lazily on the ground. Two sets of solar panels provide the gers with electricity. A rickety Russian UAZ-452 truck and two motorcycles serve as their link to the outside world.
Sceptical |
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Curious |
Another hour later, a solitary wooden cabin appears. It turns out to be one of the facilities installed by the government to help the nomads – a water pump powered by a diesel engine. Twice a day, the engine is turned on to pump water from a depth of forty metres and dump it into drinking troughs. A few horses enjoy the water.
Nomads live everywhere in Mongolia, says Batmunkh, but their way of life varies depending on the region where they live – steppe, forests, mountains. Yet water is always their first concern. Nomad families often live together around a spring. Here in the south, the quality of the water is considerably worse than in the north. City dwellers from Ulaanbaatar sometimes get sick when they drink it, let alone Western tourists. We have been warned.
A fenced plot behind the cabin stands as a silent witness to a futile attempt to establish a vegetable garden next to the pump. But nomads and vegetable gardens just don’t mix. The Chinese are more settled in their ways; they have a knack for it. Batmunkh points out that you can see this clearly along the southern border. On the Chinese side, everything is lush and green, while the Mongolian side remains a barren wasteland. Yet, fundamentally, it’s the same ecosystem with the same climate.
Twice a day, the engine is turned on to pump water from a depth of forty metres
Hundreds of goats around a pond isn’t exactly what you’d expect in the desert. Yet, the scene suddenly appears before us. Instantly, the goats scatter in all directions. A man quickly hops on his motorcycle to round them up again.
Oasis with vegetable garden |
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A natural spring continuously gushes water into the pond. From there, it’s channelled via a pipeline to a small oasis located in a depression further along. Upon closer inspection, the oasis primarily consists of a vegetable garden spanning four to five hectares (ten to twelve acres). They cultivate no fewer than fourteen types of vegetables – onions, cucumbers, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, watermelons, and more.
If they work diligently, a second harvest follows in mid-October – right in the middle of the desert, no less
In winter, temperatures here can easily drop to –30 °C (–22 °F), but starting in late May, the gardeners can begin their work. By August, they have their first harvest, and if they work diligently, a second harvest follows in mid-October – right in the middle of the desert, no less. They sell their produce at the fresh market in Dalanzadgad, over 90 km away, as well as to tourists in the ger camps. Nomads and vegetable gardens don’t mix?
At half past one, we arrive at Gobi Oasis. We promptly settle into the sparsely equipped gers – bed, nightstands, milking stools, a table, and a trash can. There’s no electricity, but there is a dynamo lantern that can be recharged with a hand crank and a solar panel.
Gobi Oasis
As far as the eye can see, there is literally nothing in the vast surroundings – no gers, no trees, no bushes. Yet, in this harsh environment, they have surprisingly managed to provide us with showers and toilets. And cold beer from the fridge, too.
Gobi Oasis |
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Herding goats with a motorcycle |
Unfazed, a herd of several hundred goats makes its way toward our gers. It seems as if they intend to take over the camp, as there is no fencing. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a woman arrives on a motorcycle with her child riding pillion. A few honks and some sharp cries are enough to gather the herd and set them on the right path. Before we know it, the colourful group has vanished on the horizon.
Before we know it, the colourful group has vanished on the horizon
Bayanzag is a place you visit mainly because of the sandstone formations. In clear weather, the reddish rays of the evening sun bathe those formations in a fiery glow. They are often referred to as the Flaming Cliffs. Therefore, the late afternoon is the best time to be there. However, the rain clouds gathering in the distant west don’t bode well. Just after four o'clock, we set out, though we take three jeeps, as the fourth one is in need of repairs.
Bayanzag – Flaming Cliffs
Less than ten minutes later, we gaze down from a sandstone ridge into a reddish valley. Irregularly eroded cliffs rise several dozen meters above the steppe. This has been one of the world's most famous dinosaur fossil sites since the 1920s.
Bayanzag – Flaming Cliffs
Not that there were significantly more dinosaurs roaming the Gobi during the Cretaceous period – between 114 and 65 million years ago – than elsewhere in the world. What makes the Gobi so special is the intense erosion that continually exposes new Cretaceous sediments. And it is precisely these sediments that contain dinosaur skeletons. The scarcity of vegetation and the ongoing uplift of the Gobi Altai further accelerate this process.
They were convinced that these gigantic bones came from dragons
It was somewhat by chance that nomads stumbled upon the first fossilised dinosaur remains. They were convinced that these gigantic bones came from dragons. Not coincidentally, the Chinese use the same word for dragon as for dinosaur.
Rumours of remarkable discoveries in the Gobi reached Roy Chapman Andrews. He was a somewhat adventurous American scientist, who would later serve as the inspiration for Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones character. In 1922, Chapman decided to conduct research in Mongolia himself. Given the isolation and unfamiliarity of Mongolia at that time, Batmunkh considers it a courageous decision. Years later, American Senator McCarthy would even call him to account for this. After all, Mongolia was a communist country at that time.
Bayanzag – Flaming Cliffs
Chapman and his team of five hundred Mongolians unearthed two to three thousand species of fish, eight thousand species of reptiles and amphibians, and ten thousand extinct species of mammals, Batmunkh proclaims, not without some exaggeration. Five hundred camels were needed for transporting all these finds to China, from where they were shipped to the United States.
A velociraptor and a protoceratops – buried under dune sand while they were locked in a life-and-death struggle
However, for months, no dinosaur fossils were unearthed. As if it were a movie plot, Batmunkh recounts how the team was about to leave when one of Chapman’s assistants climbed up a slope. One of the stones that came loose turned out to be a fossilised dinosaur egg. That was the turning point. Undoubtedly, the most famous discovery ever in the Gobi was in 1971 when two dinosaurs were found in a fighting position – a velociraptor and a protoceratops – buried under dune sand while they were locked in a life-and-death struggle.
Bayanzag shrubs
With Mongolian autonomy came growing discontent over all the paleontological relics that had made their way to American museums. It was considered outright theft. In the meantime, an agreement was reportedly in the works between Mongolia and the USA to return at least some of the fossils. Together, they planned to build a large museum – right in the Gobi – to house the returned finds.
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Fifteen minutes later, we find ourselves amid the little trees that give this area its name – the bayanzag. You won’t find as many anywhere else in the Gobi. In fact, they are little more than large shrubs, with thick trunks, many branches, and tiny leaves. They are also known as haloxylon or saxaul and thrive in sandy soil. The wood from the bayanzag burns much longer than other types of wood, which is a nice advantage when you’re sitting in your ger with a stove during the winter. However, it’s the numerous little holes in the sand and the skittish rodents that disappear into them that catch our attention. Batmunkh refers to these rodents as ground mice.
Camel breeding |
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It's nearly six o'clock when we are introduced to mammals of a very different kind. We are guests of the camel breeder Munkh Erdenet – Eternal Treasure in Mongolian. His three gers are situated in the midst of an immense, almost grassless steppe. About twenty camels are standing or sitting a little further away, chewing their cud. A modern SUV is parked next to one of the gers.
Camel breeder – Gers
As hospitality dictates, Munkh Erdenet greets us with hormog, fermented camel milk. The bowl containing the sour, slightly alcoholic liquid makes its rounds. We take cautious sips – or at least pretend to. The highly praised aarul, a dairy snack with a texture akin to concrete, is also on the table.
Ger – Interior
It’s a large, comfortable ger, adorned with beautiful, colourful furniture, an altar, a mirror cabinet full of photos of family members and friends, sheep wool carpets on the floor, and a TV with a DVD player on a shelf. Three boys sit on the floor, completely captivated by Tom and Jerry.
Breeding camels is in Munkh Erdenet's blood, as is his passion for talking about it. Although he attended secondary school far from here and served in the military, he returned to his true calling – camel breeding, just like his ancestors. He has more than eighty camels, most of which graze somewhere on the steppe. Additionally, he keeps over 200 sheep and goats as a backup. It’s clear that Eternal Treasure is doing quite well for himself.
His two youngest sons will succeed him as a camel breeder. Whether they know this themselves yet is unclear
Camel breeder Munkh Erdenet |
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Tom and Jerry in the Mongolian steppe |
Milk products, food, hides, transportation... the family relies entirely on their camels for their own provisions. Unlike cows, a camel doesn’t need to be milked every day. Curd or yogurt is made every three to four days.
In winter, they sell their milk, meat, and hides in the city, which provides the bulk of their annual income. Only when absolutely necessary is a camel sold to other nomads, as they need the meat and hides. During wedding celebrations or festivals like Naadam, they take fermented camel milk to the market, fetching between two to three thousand tugrik for one litre – about one to one and a half euros.
From the end of May, wool begins to come loose from the coat. Typically, this amounts to six to seven kilograms of wool, but larger camels can produce up to ten kilograms. Goats are also sheared, but they yield only half to one kilogram.
About every ten years, a dzud occurs, a period of extreme winter cold. During these times, sheep and goats die in droves, followed by cows and horses
When it comes to drought, heat, and cold, no animal is better adapted to the steppe than the Bactrian camel. It can gulp down up to eighty litres of water in one go, but after such a drinking spree, it can go without water for forty-five to sixty days, provided it doesn’t have to exert itself too much and the humidity is favourable.
About every ten years, a dzud occurs, a period of extreme winter cold. During these times, sheep and goats die in droves, followed by cows and horses. In contrast, camels can endure the harsh winter cold for much longer.
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Globally, three-quarters of Bactrian camels live in Mongolia. Their two humps clearly distinguish them from Arabian camels, which are the dromedaries with one hump from the Sahara and the Middle East. However, they reproduce very slowly, leading to a steady decline in their population. On average, a female camel lives for 25 years and becomes fertile from her fourth year. The gestation period lasts 13 months. The calf will nurse until its second year, but the mother remains fertile during this time. Once she becomes pregnant again, nursing comes to an end.
Lazy Mongolians sometimes resort to hiring a truck for moving
This year, five baby camels have joined Munkh Erdenet's herd. Earlier, we observed that they are already standing firmly on their legs at three to four months old, though their scruffy fur looks rather unkempt for now.
The family moves four to five times a year in search of good grass for the camels. In winter, they prefer to position their gers close to the mountains, as this offers better protection against the wind. In summer, they opt for the open steppe.
Sunset over the steppe
Moving is done with their own camels. To move a fairly large ger like this one, you need ten to twelve camels. Lazy Mongolians sometimes resort to hiring a truck for moving, Munkh Erdenet jokes, instead of neatly tying their belongings on a camel like Mongolians have been doing for centuries.
One might almost forget that Munkh Erdenet has not only camels but also a wife and seven children – the oldest is 23 and the youngest is 12. Three of his children are attending university in Ulaanbaatar, while four are studying in secondary school in the provincial capital, Dalanzadgad, which is nearly a hundred kilometres away. In the winter, they stay at boarding school, and during the summer vacation, they come down to the steppe to earn some money in the tourist ger camps.
Gobi Oasis – Sunset
Every year, Munkh Erdenet spends 1,3 million tugrik on housing for his three oldest children in Ulaanbaatar – over 700 euros. Since they share their accommodation, it's still manageable. Food is not included in that, nor is tuition, which amounts to an additional 0,9 to 1,2 million tugrik per year.
When we ask him who will succeed him as a camel breeder now that his oldest children are pursuing higher education, Munkh Erdenet answers without any hesitation. His two youngest sons will. Whether they know this themselves yet is unclear.
It’s already a quarter past seven when we arrive back at Gobi Oasis. A stunning sunset over the Mongolian steppe closes a successful day.
Tuesday, July 16 | Bayanzag – Khongoryn Els
Deep in the night, we slip outside for just a moment into the cool darkness. The starry sky that has unfolded above the open steppe is irresistible. Unobstructed by trees, clouds, or turbulence, stars and the Milky Way sparkle clearly against the velvety firmament. Even very low on the horizon – about five degrees – they are perfectly visible.
The starry sky that has unfolded above the open steppe is irresistible
Just before eight o'clock, we depart under a nearly cloudless sky, with about a four-hour journey ahead of us. Twenty minutes later, we stop in Bulgan to refuel. The village has a mere 10 000 residents, yet it will be our last contact with civilisation for the next two days. It features a small shop, a Buddhist temple, a gas station, and even a cultural centre and a hospital.
Bulgan |
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Buddhist temple |
In the square, they are repairing a broken motorcycle. The children look up shyly at the tourists. They eagerly accept the balloons, but they struggle to blow them up.
Bulgan |
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Through an immense, treeless steppe with sparse grass and low bushes, the track leads westward. On either side, the bare rocks of a low mountain range are outlined against the horizon in the distance. The track holds surprises, as after just twenty minutes, one of the jeeps gets a flat tire.
On either side, the bare rocks of a low mountain range are outlined against the horizon in the distance
Gurvan Saikhan National Park
Transferring water from a natural water source
Almost unnoticed, we enter the Gurvan Saikhan National Park. With an area of 27 000 km², it is the largest park in Mongolia – slightly smaller than Belgium.
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A group of about twenty horses has gathered around a natural spring. A few large, flat stones mark the edge of the well. Just two meters beneath our feet, the clear water glistens. Batmunkh uses a leather bag on a stick to pour some water into the troughs, much to the horses' delight.
Gurvan Saikhan
Gradually, we begin the ascent of Gurvan Saikhan. The track winds its way up between bare rocks. It's half past eleven when we pass an ovoo, a shamanistic structure made of stacked stones that marks the highest point, and start the descent into the valley.
Dunes of Khongoryn Els
Before long, we catch sight of Khongoryn Els, the famous sand dunes that we are here for today. Literally meaning Golden Sand Dunes, they are often referred to as the Singing Dunes because of the sound the sand makes when it is whipped up by the wind and cascades down the slope.
Dunes of Khongoryn Els
The park owes its protected status to the unique combination of rocky mountains, sand dunes, green vegetation, and a river, Batmunkh explains. The sand dunes stretch over a hundred kilometres along the valley's length, sometimes reaching a width of twelve kilometres. At certain points, they rise to heights of three hundred meters.
Shortly after noon, we arrive at the Gobi Discovery 2 ger camp. The thermometer reads 32 °C (90 °F). At the entrance of the camp, we are greeted by a camel adorned with antlers. According to the explanation, it was not the deer but the camels who were given antlers at creation. The deer weren’t too pleased about this. One day, they asked the camels if they could borrow their antlers for a party. Jovially, the camels had no objections. However, the deer were so delighted with the antlers that they still haven’t returned them. That’s why you’ll always see a group of camels gazing in the same direction, hopefully waiting for the deer to come back and return their antlers.
That’s why you’ll always see a group of camels gazing in the same direction, hopefully waiting for the deer to come back and return their antlers
Gobi Discovery 2 – The Legend of the Deer |
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Ger – Interior |
From a hillside, 42 gers overlook Khongoryn Els. Inside, we find the familiar rudimentary furniture, including hard beds and cushions filled with seeds. A thick rope hangs down from a cartwheel in the ceiling, attached to a hefty stone. The presence of a light bulb suggests that electricity is available. Outside, a strong wind howls around the ger, and the straps flap against the canvas. It’s clear that the open steppe offers little protection. As the wind picks up, the stone will ensure that the supporting poles sink deeper into the sand on the leeward side of the ger. For a brief moment, a few raindrops fall in the early afternoon.
At four o’clock, we drive toward the dunes in our jeeps. A wide river flows through the valley parallel to the dunes, at least during the rainy season, but now only a meagre stream meanders between the sandbanks. We continue on foot amidst typical dune vegetation. The graceful forms of the pale pink dunes rise high before us. The wind continuously paints soft patterns of light and shadow in the fine sand on the slopes. In the distance, a herder on a motorcycle drives his herd of horses ahead of him.
Goats visiting the ger |
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A boardwalk leads us over a marshy stretch to a small patch of grass. Lush green grass at the foot of sand dunes deep in the Gobi, who would have thought? But the culprit is quickly identified. Batmunkh takes us to a spring at the base of the dune. Mud-brown water bubbles up from the sand.
Camels in the dunes
Then we begin what we came for – the climb up the high dune. The first part goes smoothly; the slope increases only moderately. We walk steadily upward, the strong wind not getting the best of us. But soon the incline steepens, the sand becomes loose, and the wind is relentless. Each step feels like a slow pilgrimage. Our skin is being sandblasted, and with every breath, we inhale clouds of sand. Grains settle between our teeth, on our eyelids, and in our lungs.
Storm is coming
Once at the top, the triumph is short-lived. A monumental dune landscape unfolds before us. As far as the eye can see, imposing rows of dunes follow one another. However, the view is limited, and the camera won’t focus, as the wind steadily drives curtains of sand against the slope. Breathtaking, that much is true.
Before long, we begin our descent. Raindrops try to dampen the excitement, but it's dry by the jeeps. A little further on, a herd of about twenty camels grazes among the dune vegetation.
Sandstorm in the making |
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All awnings must be closed |
Just before six, we’re back at the camp. The drivers are uneasy about tomorrow. They fear more rain is on the way, which would make the tracks in the valley impassable. Rain turns loose sand into a mudslide that no jeep can handle. This means the planned route through the valley via Bayandalay is no longer an option – Batmunkh has gotten stuck there twice in the past. Moreover, there’s a narrow gorge waiting for us that’s barely wider than a jeep. It doesn’t take much for such a passage to become impassable. So the only option is to climb straight out of the valley over Gurvan Saikhan, using the same tracks as today.
To confirm the drivers' suspicions, inky black clouds have appeared above the mountains to the west. A hellish wind drives a small sandstorm ahead of the rain. Gradually, the sand obscures the mountains, the dunes, and the valley from view. A howling wind lashes the gers. We hurry outside to close the awning over the cartwheel and secure it tightly. You can barely see a hand in front of your face.
After the storm
With the door tightly shut, we huddle together in the ger. It’s pitch black inside, as there are no windows and no electricity. Outside, the wind relentlessly tugs at the canvas, and it seems miraculous that no pieces are coming loose. Just fifteen minutes after the storm announced itself from the west, the heavens open up. For twenty minutes, the rain lashes against the canvas.
Dunes of Khongoryn Els
Gradually, visibility outside improves; the sun even breaks through the clouds, though it continues to rain. Over half an hour after the tempest began, everything suddenly comes to an end. The sand dunes shine brightly in the sun, and the mountains in the west stand out sharply against the pale clouds. Where a small sandstorm had just raged, a cheerful white rabbit hops around. In the east, a magnificent rainbow crowns the scene.
Wednesday, July 17 | Khongoryn Els – Yolyn Am
The whole night, rain showers roll over the camp. Yet we awaken under a radiant blue sky, as if it had never rained and would never rain again. Swiftly, we unfurl the awning on the roof and let the morning sun in.
Gobi Discovery 2 |
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To Yolyn Am |
Starting at eight o'clock, we put yesterday's scenario into practice – first crossing Gurvan Saikhan, then heading east parallel to the mountains. On the straight, unpaved track, driver Tsogo accelerates significantly. With peak speeds of up to 75 kilometres per hour, we speed through the vast, sunlit landscape under a brilliant blue sky.
Ovoo on Gurvan Saikhan |
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Horse breeding |
A solitary ger catches our attention. About twenty horses are grazing nearby. If we want to learn about horse breeding, this is the right place. However, we find no one at home except for the grandfather, who is bedridden and unwell.
For now, we can't appreciate the subtle differences in the terroir of these appellations
Four jeeps certainly don't go unnoticed in the steppe. Suddenly, Batsuch comes speeding up on his motorcycle. A bit stiff but friendly, he leads us into his ger without much ado. Promptly, the obligatory snacks appear on the table – cheese, sugar, and the rock-hard aarul – while two bowls full of airat make their rounds. We politely sip the fermented horse milk – or pretend to do so – and feel fortunate that our drivers take a hefty portion of the stuff. Batmunkh notes that the variation in vegetation makes airat taste different in each region. For now, we can't appreciate the subtle differences in the terroir of these appellations.
Outside, the wind howls. Meanwhile, the grandfather has propped himself up in his bed, bewildered and wondering where all these people have come from.
Ger – Interior |
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Horse breeder Batsuch |
At the back of the ger, against the wall, hangs a small altar. On a cabinet sits a TV. Outside, we've noticed a satellite dish and a solar panel. However, what truly catches our attention are the medals displayed on the wall. Batsuch’s horses clearly perform well in the horse races at local and provincial Naadam festivals. His younger brothers, it turns out, are skilled jockeys.
Batsuch drives some horses together
Batsuch explains that horses are milked six to seven times a day. He owns 36 horses in total, nine of which are mares with foals that can be milked. Together, they produce 25 litres of milk daily, which must be processed immediately. It sounds like an incredibly labour-intensive task to us.
But milking horses is considered women's work, and the lady of the house is currently away
Preparing the milking |
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Pregnant mare |
In fact, the horses should be milked at this very moment, but milking horses is considered women's work, and the lady of the house is currently away. This is where Bat Erdenet, one of our drivers, steps in. Armed with a bucket and a milk jug, he heads over to the foals, which are tied up to prevent them from seeking out their mothers to nurse.
Preventing foals from seeking out their mothers to suckle
Milking horses turns out to be quite a complicated process. Seated on his motorbike, Batsuch first rounds up the mares. Then, he unties one of the foals and, with considerable effort, drags the stubborn animal to its mother. He allows the foal to suckle briefly, just enough to soften the mare's teats. After that, he pulls the foal away but keeps it pressed close to the mare, as she won't release her milk without the presence of her young nearby.
Allowing the foal to suckle for a while… |
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…and then milking |
Now, Bat Erdenet gets to work. With his right arm reaching between the mare's hind legs and his left arm straight out, he rhythmically squeezes the teats with both hands. Milk streams into the bucket at a steady pace, splashing against its sides. Meanwhile, Batsuch is already wrestling another foal to prepare the next mare. And in about an hour and a half, this whole process will start all over again. Day in, day out. Year after year.
In about an hour and a half, this whole process will start all over again. Day in, day out. Year after year
Slightly surprised, Batsuch's wife steps out of her car. Apparently, her work is nearly done without her having to lift a finger. She doesn’t seem too upset about it. The little one she has with her is a spitting image of the bedridden grandfather.
Daughter |
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Mrs Batsuch |
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Sun |
Still moving parallel to the mountain range, we continue our journey eastward. The grassy steppe gently slopes down toward the valley. After more than an hour, the terrain changes. The jeeps turn southward, heading into the mountains. The track now winds its way upward between rocky hills, eventually reaching an altitude of around 1 950 meters above sea level.
Gurvan Saikhan
Shortly after one o'clock, in this rugged landscape, the Juulchin Khan Bogd ger camp emerges, where we stop for lunch. Despite its desolate character, the Gobi Desert is home to a variety of remarkable mammals. This is highlighted by larger-than-life statues of several of these animals, prominently displayed on four hills surrounding the camp.
Only a pair of horns represents the Siberian ibex. As for the extremely rare Gobi bear, it's absent in the museum
Deeper into the mountains, we come across the Branch Museum of Nature of South Gobi Aimag’s Museum, where this theme is further explored. The museum, dating back to 1987, likely features taxidermy specimens just as old. Up close, we encounter dusty versions of the creatures that inhabit the Gobi: bearded vultures, cinereous vultures, gazelles, wild sheep with beautifully curled horns, wild donkeys, lynxes, wolves, and even a snow leopard. Only a pair of horns represents the Siberian ibex. As for the extremely rare Gobi bear, it's absent – fewer than thirty individuals are thought to survive. In a dreary side room, dinosaur bones and fossilised eggs, the remains of another famous Gobi resident, are carelessly displayed.
To Yolyn Am
Actually, the Gobi is not a desert, but a semi-desert, Batmunkh explains. It represents a transitional climate between subtropical and desert climates. A true desert is a place where it never rains, and as we’ve learned by now, the Gobi is capable of some impressive downpours. It’s thanks to these occasional rains that the larger animals can survive in this harsh environment.
Unfortunately, hybrids between wild and Bactrian camels are sterile
One such animal is the wild camel, a pale version of the brown Bactrian camel. It's an extremely skittish creature, fleeing at the mere sight of a dust cloud. However, it's quite sturdy, capable of carrying loads up to 400 kg, while its domesticated cousin can only manage around 250 kg. Unfortunately, hybrids between wild and Bactrian camels are sterile.
At half-past three, we delve deeper into the park in search of Yolyn Am, the famous Valley of the Bearded Vulture, though only with three jeeps, as the fourth needs repairs.
Yolyn Am
Sunlight rarely touches the bottom of this steep, deep gorge. In winter, the ice here can be up to ten meters thick. In the past, that ice would persist year-round, but not anymore – a consequence of global warming, according to Batmunkh. Still, you can usually find traces of ice well into July. We shiver with excitement.
High above our heads, a dozen bearded vultures remind us that this is their valley
Yolyn Am |
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On our quest for ice in this semi-desert, we walk into the wide valley. The generous sun makes it pleasantly warm, though the brisk wind adds a cool touch. High above our heads, a dozen bearded vultures remind us that this is their valley. For now, the bed of the Yol is dry, but as we move downstream, it gradually transforms into a babbling brook.
Yolyn Am
Plants form large, dark green patches on the slopes. Not surprisingly, Batmunkh has an example of one on hand. Monks in Buddhist monasteries turn it into a powder that has mind-expanding effects, he explains.
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Pika (whistling hare) |
Pika |
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Here and there, skittish rodents flee into their burrows. With shrill whistles, they alert each other to our presence, but we only catch sight of them when they move. These pikas, or whistle hares, resemble marmots but are not closely related. They are, after all, hares. They do not hibernate, which is why they can sometimes be spotted with a mouthful of fresh grass. They neatly store this in their burrows for winter.
Yolyn Am
As we progress, the valley narrows into a steep rocky gorge. Several ovoos guard the path. The trail constantly shifts from bank to bank, searching for the rare traversable stretches. Stone steps help us cross the water, or we slide down the rocks of a small waterfall. For seventy-five minutes, we delve deeper into the impressive gorge, but find no trace of ice.
Gurvan Saikhan
We quickly return to the jeeps and search for a spot for the night. Like horses sensing the stable, the drivers swiftly race down the slopes of the mountains.
It is a quarter past seven when we arrive at the Gobi Discovery ger camp, where the beaming Tseden Chimeg stands ready in traditional clothing with her welcome package – a bowl full of milk.
Tseden Chimeg with welcome drink |
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Gobi Discovery |
Later in the evening, an ink-black cloud cover approaches from the southwest. We are familiar with that phenomenon by now. We are spared from a prelude in the form of a sandstorm. But the rain does not hold back.
Thursday, July 18 | Yolyn Am – Dalangadzad – Ulaanbaatar
At exactly six o'clock, we leave the camp behind in a drizzly mist. It’s far too early, really, but Batmunkh prefers to be safe than sorry. It certainly won’t be Tseden Chimeg’s fault if anything goes wrong today; she is already there in the early morning to sprinkle milk over the tires of the jeeps. This is an offering to the sky spirits to appease them and ensure us a safe journey.
This is an offering to the sky spirits to appease them and ensure us a safe journey
Appeasing the sky spirits |
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Dalanzadgad – Airport |
An hour later, we arrive at the airport of Dalanzadgad under a thick cloud cover. In no time, the main luggage is checked in. Then it's almost a two-hour wait. So, we have plenty of time to occupy ourselves with trivial matters. For instance, Batmunkh's identity card. The Mongolian identity card turns out to differ little from its Belgian counterpart, but it lists three names. First, the family name, which is actually the name of the clan. Then the surname and the first name. If the parents belong to different clans, the children belong to the father's clan. If the father is unknown, the child takes the mother's name. Thus, our guide's full name is Torguud Bolormaa Batmunkh.
This is a form of institutional discrimination, as every Mongolian knows that Bolormaa is a maternal name. Given Batmunkh's background – son of a Mongolian mother and an Ivorian father – anyone who knows his full name will conclude that something is amiss.
However, discrimination based on skin colour is more severe, Batmunkh adds. We have already observed that his Mediterranean looks often cause him problems. For instance, yesterday, Batsuch barely exchanged a few words with Batmunkh before he started chatting extensively with the four drivers. With real Mongolians, that is.
The Aero Mongolia Fokker 50 takes off over twenty minutes early. About five and a quarter hours later, we land in Ulaanbaatar under a radiant sky with hardly a cloud in sight.
Jaak Palmans
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