Cold Bogd

Winter Comes To Mongolia

Hard to believe it but last Friday (9/18/09) was a comfortable 70 degrees. This all changed over night as winter strolled into town with a vengeance. The temp dropped a brutal 40 degrees in town. However, since I had spent the last weekend doing absolutely nothing I was determined to go hiking. This time I would return to Bogd determined to see the other side.

I bundled up against the biting wind. Any exposed skin would fall victim to cold drafts so I buried my hands deep in the pockets of my vest. Luckily I'm able to grow my own scarf so my face was secure. Packing my pockets with crackers and carrying a bag full of a change of clothes I set off. I brought the extra clothes in case my wanderings caused me to sweat. In these conditions sweat can turn cold and freeze your body. It turned out I didn't need it for this venture but the added weight on my back held in a lot of heat for which I was thankful.

Winter allows for a whole different kind of beautiful. This happened to be a great time because all the undergrowth on Bogd still maintained its autumnal color only now a thin veneer of snow crystals framed everything. The snow obscured and made slippery all of the rocks and roots that lay on the trail. This would prove disastrous to my poor flat feet, as every step caused my ankles to twist ever so slightly.

Up on my usual overlook I peered across the valley, trying to make out the other side. Everything was obscured by low clouds and swirling snow. I felt as though I was looking at the nothing from The Never Ending Story (remember that movie? "Faaaaalkooooor!" Hahahaha!)

The snow hadn't yet accumulated enough to cover the undergrowth causing the trail to stand out like a blazing white beacon. My hope was that my footprints would be clear enough to stand out upon my return. No chance of hearing flappy crows today. All was immersed in the constant sound of wind whipping through trees. I passed the rock field where I had stopped last time. Into new territory now, into the cold and obscured trail. My way less obvious than before I had to keep my wits about me. I reached a flat spot where the trees thinned out and the boulders prevailed. With the cover gone the wind howled fiercely. Time to zip up again.

The boulders here proved more massive then the ones found last outing. This time they piled in strange arrangements forming interior spaces. I contemplated spending the night in a cave but realized I hadn't the necessary tools. Perhaps some other time.

Onward I journeyed. The land began to slope downwards at a low grade. The trees, sparser here, gave way to grassy meadows. I looked about me. Shit. I had lost the trail. What's more the lay of the land became too even and consistent. No obvious landmarks. Would I be able to make my way back? Nevertheless I pushed on. Curiosity nipping at my heels.

I made my way to the valley floor. I had hoped to be at the other side, maybe even find the monastery located here. No such luck. Only more mountains that trailed off into the gloom. By now it was getting late. I had hiked out for four and a half hours. Time to make my return. I picked my way back up through the ascending meadows. I figured I was all right as long as I could follow my footprints. This proved impossible in the tall grasses and I soon lost it. Occasionally, on my way back I would find my footprints again only to loose them in turn. At one point I looked about me completely confused, the landscape was absolutely unfamiliar. The light was fading, I briefly considered attempting to build a make shaft shelter and spending the night. But not in this place, too open, I risked death from exposure and surely darkness would bring only more cold. Onward soldier.

Abruptly, my concern turned to relief as I found myself back at the boulders and familiar territory. I was going to be alright. It's 6:30 by now and I figure it will take me another three hours to get off the mountain. Well passed dark, but I simply can't risk spending the night here. Not like this. Particularly not in this place, the cave floors are all wet with snow melt and the wind blows freely, unabated by tree cover.

Back down the trail again into gathering darkness. At first the path stood out as before, a blazing beacon. But now it had been nearly six hours since I had walked this way. Snowfall had filled in my prints. No way to track myself back. Perhaps because of falling night, or because the snow was just a bit deeper, I suddenly realized I was no longer on the proper path but rather a deer run that was descending into the valley in the wrong direction. The snow on the steep slope is slippery, I loose my footing often, breaking my fall with knees and ankles. Blast! Fear creeps in. I must not fear, fear is the mind killer. In this situation its best to keep your sense of direction about you.

By and by a familiar landmark creeps out of the darkness. I'm on my way home. Perhaps the darkness or anticipation is the culprit but the trail is stretching out longer than it should. Will my feet hold up to this relentless assault? Perched on my accustomed overlook I squint into the night, trying to find my path. Suddenly my feet give out beneath me, I'm falling amongst the stone, my outstretched hand doesn't hit ground where I anticipate it would, rather dipping deeper between rocks. Pins and needles lance up my arm to my shoulder! Ayah! My right arm has gone completely numb. Bad timing.

Now I must get down, but cautiously now, can't risk another fall in this light. My ankles and knees are creaking. Frost from my breath has condensed into my beard, haggard and derelict I must appear as some monster from the cold. Now I'm at the final descent, I can see the city sprawled out below and I can't wait to get back home. If only there were a hot bath awaiting my return. If only this venture were over now.

At SuperMarket I draw nervous stares from the Mongolian employees. What the hell just walked in? I pick up my bacon and alfredo sauce, but curses! No more root beer. How disappointing.

The next day (a Sunday) I spend almost the entire day in bed. My ravaged feet are virtually useless. Rest now and heal up. I'm still feelin' the hurt even on Monday and I have to walk to class. Better hold off on hiking for a bit. This last adventure almost killed me.

Regrets of Neglect

It's been a while since I posted last. Sorry team.

Okay so this one is about my solo trip to Bogd about two weeks ago. If you recall I was frustrated with people after a particular rancorous barbeque session so I stole away to Bogd, my sole motive to console my grieving soul. Or something.

The colors were perfect, everything tinged with the amber tones of autumn. The first ascent, a steep hike, was mollified by supremely blue skies and wispy clouds overhead. On my approach I noticed a cloud formation, which I wished to capture on camera but the angle was wrong. I needed to ascend to the heights of mighty Bogd in order to photograph this one proper. I figured they'd have dissipated by the time I reached high ground, capricious as clouds are, but not today. That day they were tenacious, cooperative. Thank you clouds.

Onwards and upwards, I came to a rocky outcropping that Jason and I had rested at on our prior outing. Looking across the valley to where the ridge doubled back on itself I saw another look out point and set this as my goal. Such distances are always deceiving to me, I tried to judge how long it would take to come around to but I was completely clueless. I simply hoped for less than two hours trek and pushed onwards.

There was absolutely nobody along my way. The air was still and silent, nature has an innate power to pacify. Suddenly the deep quiet was interrupted by a most peculiar sound. A kind of light ploink like that of a pebble dropping into water only it was coming from above and loud, echoing off the walls of the ranges around me. What on earth? Turned out to be a strange bird that soared overhead. I could not identify.

A murder of crows swooped around me. In the stillness I could hear the swooshing of their wings. It was so surreal. I've been on this earth nigh thirty years now and never before have I heard crows flapping. How is this possible? Perhaps this is a unique feature found only in the Mongolian flock? Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

By and by I came upon my goal. A boulder field abruptly interrupted the coniferous forest loam signaling my arrival. The closer I approached the outcropping the larger the rocks became. They were enormous, towering structures which appeared to have been deposited by giants. Geologists be damned there is no other rational explanation!

I clambered over these monstrosities, my pervasive curiosity overcoming any notions of safety. One portion proving too steep to climb required an application of my wits. I dug my hands into a cleft and shimmied my way underneath a great overhang (so cold in the shadow, fingers going numb) so as to intersect another cleft and pull myself over. Agility and wits combined to carry me to the top. And a majestic view, cobalt firmament spanning steely mountain and distant UB shimmering on the horizon.

It was right chilly upon my perch. I zippered up my vest and lay back against the sun warmed stone. Eyes closed as I slipped into oblivion. No damnable human to ruin the mood. Save the ever flapping crows I was alone. Blessed be.

Quickly I scurried back wishing to catch the sunset over my hearts despair, filthy UB with her brown clouds of carbon smoke and her traffic choked streets. The dying rays blazed long over amber mountain meadows. The golden hour. The picture of sublimity.

My refreshed soul carried me back down the slope and on to "SuperMarket" a store on this wealthy end of town where I can purchase such western items as bacon, alfredo sauce, and (LordHa'Mercy) Root Beer! Blessed Root Beer! And to think, 16oz tall boys. Satisfaction in a can. Huzzah!

Back To Bogd or I Hate Humans

Life So Far

I feel as though its time to speak again about life here in UB. The reason I've neglected doing so is that for the most part things are pretty lame which drives me to the outdoors on weekends in order to escape the misery that is that damnable city. The weather is starting to turn and public schools are back in session. This means no more children's classes, a relief. My schedule for the last week has had me start at 5pm everyday which is more welcome relief. Now I can do what I do best, namely sleep in.

One benefit to cold weather is that the hot water has been turned on again. You see, the winters in UB are so harsh that every year pipes burst and there are maintenance problems throughout the city. Because of this the summer is spent fixing pipes which means district by district hot water gets shut off for a month. The water that you are left with isn't just cold, its fuckin' icy! Truck stop showers for a month are no fun for all parties involved.

This brilliant new government decided it would be desirable to repair the main traffic artery. When Mongolians repair roads they don't do it like we do in the states. None of this weak ass work on one lane at a time bullshit, hell no! We're Mongolians dammit! We're gonna shut the whole damn street down, and you can suck it! Fortunately for me this is my walk to work so for a whole month I had the luxury of lumbering down the middle of the road completely uninhibited. My favorite was walking home from work at night. Headlights in the distance backlighting silhouetted figures shambling through the darkness. I thought I was in some sort of George Romero movie. Never once got jumped. Perhaps I'm the scariest zombie of them all. That's a comforting thought.

Last Saturday I went with a group of friends to the rivers edge to enjoy some BBQ shish kebabs. What should have been a pleasant afternoon turned into a shitstorm of bickering and animosity. What's more the meat had been marinated in too much ginger giving it a soapy taste. Afterwards I went home and sulked. I made Sunday into a consolation day by taking a nice solo hike up on Bogd. Read about it in the next post sucka!

Lunacy

For some odd reason it's called Turtle Rock

Giant Absurd Statue Day!

We went to the giant statue of Chinggis Khaan on his horse yesterday. It was totally outlandish. Giant stainless steel sculpture mounted on a rotunda with a restaurant inside. A narrow stairway wound its way up the horse's back and exited out the great Khaan's crotch to the observation deck on the horse's head. It was not worth the 10,000T ($7 American) entry fee. However, the exterior was gleaming in the perfect sun. Check the pix y'all.

Later we ventured into Terelj once more for a brief visit to Turtle Rock and shish kebabs thereafter. A mother dog with swollen teats approached us, no more then a pup herself. We fed her our scraps which she devoured with the quickness. Poor thing.

Sight For Sore Eyes

Mongolia The Beautiful

These Guys Rule!

Steppe Ridas!

Once again, at the eleventh hour last weekend I was invited to join a group of westerners sojourning to the outskirts of UB for some fresh air and excitement. This time it was through a group called Steppe Riders. It was such a nice deal. Check this out: for 40 Tuugruugk (about $28 American) we got a ride to and from the location by microbus, we got to stay the night in a geir, we got fed, and we got to ride horses for hours over the wide open steppe. Not a bad deal.

It was nice to get away and meet some other foreigners in the process. I was invited by a Scotsman who had been working for a tour company until recently. There was a Texan working for a Chinese newspaper, a contingent of Aussie lasses engaged in various activities and a Canuck doing god knows what amongst others. I feel very fortunate that the foreigner community is so open here but with all the discrimination we experience on a daily basis it sort of makes sense.

This time around we were working with a company that had our interests in mind. Meaning they took the time to adjust the stirrups for us and whatnot. This certainly saved my knee some trouble. On the first afternoon I was given an eager steed who kept pace with the leaders of our group for which I was thankful. However, on the second day my luck ran out. I was given an old mount who certainly tried but his gallop was totally weak. I spent the whole ride just trying to catch up. Actually my horse spent most of the time with his nose up other horses asses. All that space and he insisted on close contact. It makes no sense.

Nice people, nice fire that lasted the night, a rather nice weekend. Afterwards back to broke ass UB only this time with a sore bum and groin and every other muscle used for sitting. Such is life.

Eagle Rock!

Most "blinks" in photography are unfortunate. I think this one had the opposite effect. Nice work Tom.

Odt, Lookin' Like A Rock Star!

Sights in Terelj

Hotel Terelj

TereljMaa

Kickin'It Geir Style

Mongol Horde Cometh!

Weekend In Terelj

Once again I took off last weekend for a trip to the country. This time it was with my homies from Sexy Jazz Lounge, a little pub my friend Sarge opened not far from my apartment. His waiter Odt's family maintain a geir camp at a well known national park called Terelj, so our lodging was completely covered. It was very relaxing, on the first day we didn't do much. We sort of strolled about the general area where we were staying. There's a five star hotel there that we took a brief tour of. It was probably the nicest building I've seen in Mongolia.

That night we all gathered by the river while Tom played songs on his guitar. Sing along hippie classics such as Hotel California, American Pie, and Uncle John's Band. It was a little cold for it but felt nice. Later we played drinking games in our geir until we passed out.

The next day as we all lazed about nursing hangovers a man rolled up on his motorcycle with an eagle hanging on the backside. I wish I could've gotten a decent image so you'd know what I meant. Instead you'll have to settle for my shoddy camera work. We each paid 1,000 Tugrugs (about 70 cents American) for an opportunity to photograph ourselves with the powerful raptor. Very exotic experience. There was no way I was going to pass that up.

Afterwards we mounted horses (or ponies perhaps, they're so little!) and rode about the grounds. The stirrups are so high up on those beasts, my knee began screaming at me again. It was very much like riding long distance on my bike with my seat post set too low. Ah well. Fun enough. This child acting as our guide kept whipping my steed into action. The trotting horse's back nailed my inner thighs repeatedly, leaving me sore. Damn I need some conditioning, I'm getting soft in my old age!

Bus ride home was two hours of overcrowded mayhem. My back got wrenched out of alignment, which turned Monday into hurtin' day. Worth it nonetheless.