Horses and trucks sums up most of my Sunday on the asphalt. Herds of semi wild horses were becoming more frequent the further south I travelled. Numbers ranged from 5 to 50 in number. All of these animals belonged to someone. Occasionally I might glimpse a biker nomad gliding through the steppe on his small cc motorcycle, either checking out where his herd had got to or rounding them up away from the road. Horses here are the top line when it comes to livestock. The mare’s milk plays an important role when it comes to a source of cheeses or alcohol. To use a horse as a pack animal is unheard of here. If you need an animal to carry your gear, go get a camel or a yak – horses are only meant to ridden for herding or racing.
With the constant northerly wind behind me, I was again making good progress. My decision to walk north to south had worked out better than expected. This known fact of wind direction in Mongolia is the main practical reason why every ger’s front door will face south away from the prevailing northerly. I had made an early start that morning, up at 5am and on the road for 6.30am. By 4pm I had achieved 35km – my best yet so far on this trip. I pitched up my tent a good distance from the road. Further afield I could see a local nomads ger with what looked like a large herd of goats nearby. I pondered what it would be like to see inside one, but decided I didn’t want to be that imposing tourist who decides to stick his head in the door because the guide boom told them to. Instead, I cooked my dinner and clambered into the tent, just in time before another hail storm hit.
With the constant northerly wind behind me, I was again making good progress. My decision to walk north to south had worked out better than expected. This known fact of wind direction in Mongolia is the main practical reason why every ger’s front door will face south away from the prevailing northerly. I had made an early start that morning, up at 5am and on the road for 6.30am. By 4pm I had achieved 35km – my best yet so far on this trip. I pitched up my tent a good distance from the road. Further afield I could see a local nomads ger with what looked like a large herd of goats nearby. I pondered what it would be like to see inside one, but decided I didn’t want to be that imposing tourist who decides to stick his head in the door because the guide boom told them to. Instead, I cooked my dinner and clambered into the tent, just in time before another hail storm hit.
An hour later I was getting comfy in my tight single man tent when I heard a motor bike outside followed by a friendly ‘sain bainuu!’ (Hello!). I stuck my head out and clambered out to greet the local herder. After the typical game of charades, I showed him my magic letter. He read it intently before smiling and signalled that I should sleep at his tonight. He indicated that the ger I was looking at was his. He was heading off in the other direction to find more of his animals but would meet me back there. Stoked at my turn of luck and humbled by the offer, I quickly packed up my gear. I could see another dark cloud heading my way so I shoved everything away as quick as possible and headed towards the nomads camp. It was still a kilometre away and uphill so it was going to take me a while. By the time I was halfway there, the herder and completed his job and returned for me. He suggested that I climb on the back of the bike while connected to the cart as he rode us slowly to his home. Now this sounds like something my brothers Dom & Ben would have done in our younger years without thinking. Now that I’m older and wiser I thought about the consequences of an epic failure, and decided feck it, let’s do it anyway! It t’was great craic! I probably bear hugged the guy a little too hard as we hit every little bump and the harness strained against my body. Only twice did we have to stop to adjust the backs as they had bounced onto the wheels of the cart. But stopping and tight squeezes aside, we laughed the remainder of the journey. When we arrived I parked my cart out of the way of the goats and the herder opened the door and sent me in.
Immediately the heat of the stove in the centre of the tent hit me, a welcome change from the chilly air outside. A young woman holding a chubby faced baby no more than a year old sat to the right inside, shocked to see this hairy white guy tumble in through the door. Her expression softened when her cheerful husband followed me and he quickly explained how and where he found me. Within minutes my coat was off and I had been handed a beautifully hot cup of milky tea. No sooner had I finished the tea was by bowl refilled with a meaty porridge which also went down a treat. I had already had and large noodle dinner earlier but I was keen to try the local food and besides, it was tasty and wholesome. I sat back and marvelled at the inside of their home. It was both simplistic, efficient and cosy. From the walls to the ceiling to the Buddhist shrine at the back, every detail was fascinating to me. There was something primal that I liked about it, the family gathered in a circle around a heat source. Everybody is able to make eye contact with each other and communicate without a distraction like a TV in the corner. To explain what a ger is, it is a circular tent with sections of wooden lattice making up the wall structure. The centre piece of the roof is a round wooden ring that is supported underneath by two vertical wooden uprights and held in place by wooden spokes radiating out, connecting it to the lattice wall, very much like the spokes of a bicycle wheel. The walls and roof are traditionally covered with felt with a waterproof layer over the top. The interior is sometimes lined with large rugs or carpet covering the walls and floor. Light is allowed in by the roof ring when it has not been covered by a moveable tarp to keep the elements out. It is out this gap that the pipe for the stove projects, the stove being situated in the middle of the room. This particular family’s home was equipped with a solar panel which charged the vehicle battery which gave light to the interior at night. All this makes for a warm, cosy, relaxing abode. I spent the rest of the night getting to know the family through the help of the invaluable phrase book. The family was made up of the husband Toru, wife Saicla and wee baby Hoschlong. Outside they had approximately 100 goats which they owned and managed with the help of a nearby nomad family. Toru also surprised me by telling me he was only 3 years older than me. His presence felt like he was a wiser man than I. Much laughter was had from both sides during the eveneing, but I had to learn to quieten my laughter as poor baby Holschlong was still a bit unsure of this beardy intruder, my loud laugh setting him off in tears each time. By the end of the night I was exhausted. I was shown my bed and proceeded to clamber in. Just as I had got in a sound of a vehicle had arrived outside – the neighbours come to take a look and Toru’s new guest. Saicla suggested I pretend to be asleep otherwise It would be many hours before I was allowed to sleep. I rolled over and it did not take much for me to fall asleep, but as I did I listened to the merriment of the 4 new visitors with their gasps and laughter when the words ‘Irland’ and ‘Beijing’ were mentioned. An awesome night had all in all. I woke up the next day to Saicla starting up the stove and preparing food. Turo went out to herd the goats into a paddock, presumably for milking later. While outside the mischievous goats were acting up so he called out for both Saicla and myself for a bit of help. Memories of Ireland came flooding back as we tried running after the strays who were determined that the paddock was not for them. We then shared breakfast and I went outside to play my pipes for a while, much to the delight of Turo. The commotion I caused inevitably had the next door neighbour over for a look and was full of questions that now Turo and Saicla could answer. After breakfast is was time to go. I packed up my gear and offered them a token of my appreciation. They refused at first but I insisted and they graciously accepted (when in Rome!). We took a few photos together and said our good byes. I was pretty sad to leave but extremely grateful for their hospitality and humbled by their generosity. Hopefully the address I have for them works – I still wonder how that works for nomadic people!