Hello (Privet in Russian). We are in Siberia! Again, I apologise that the blogs have been a bit behind, but as you might already know, we made it to Magadan on the evening of 24th August! We are totally exhausted, but totally elated at the same time. It’s been a long olde few weeks…… After saying goodbye to Mongolia and crossing the border on Monday 11th August we drove north towards a Siberian town called Ulan Ude (not far from Baikal which we would be visiting in a few weeks time on the journey home). From the border we were greeted by perfect tarmac, road signs and infrastructure. Dirt tracks (for now) were a thing of the past. We arrived successfully in Ulan Ude late that evening and kept our eyes peeled for a hotel as we wanted to register our presence in Russia. Our understanding of the ‘rules’ was that registration was required if you were spending more than 7 working days in the same province. Technically (therefore), we didn’t need to register, but we wanted to err on the side of caution in case we were fined at the border by some dodgy border guard. It was better to be safe than sorry. We drove through Ulan Ude (a bustling modern looking city) during the late Monday evening rush hour which was highly stressful for Ed, so we sacked off looking for a hotel in town and spotted one on the outskirts. The receptionist inside had Mongolian features and of course she couldn’t understand a word we were saying, while trying to explain we wanted a room, ‘only’ if she could register us. She kindly however, called a friend who could speak English and passed the phone to Ed. Subsequently it transpired that she wasn’t allowed to register us and we had to go to a larger hotel, perplexing us immensely…. It was getting late, so we kindly asked her if we could spend the night in the car park and she agreed, (in the end) not charging us a penny. The following morning we left Ulan Ude before 7am, driving once more through the city centre looking for a hotel. A one way system and very busy roads (even so early in the morning) made it a difficult place to navigate and so we decided to try our luck in the next Siberian town called Chita, located some 650km away to the east. The scenery for the next two days comprised rolling pastures and pretty rivers punctuated by rustic villages filled with dark timber framed houses. The sun shone warmly since the minute we crossed the border and unexpectedly it was hot (at least 25 degrees Celsius!) and not how we had imagined Siberia at all. Forests of mixed coniferous and deciduous trees occasionally lined the roads and we spotted predominantly silver birch, willow and mountain ash growing side by side with the conifers. Near the small towns and villages men worked the fields by hand, cutting the hay with scythes and loading up rickety old tractors in the warm sunshine and in the gardens of the pretty wooden homes, crops of potatoes and sunflowers were neatly arranged in well kept allotments and giant piles of wood were being chopped and stacked in preparation for the winter. As in Mongolia (and many of the Central Asian countries we had visited), livestock roamed the streets freely and it always caused us amusement (cows are mostly to blame) when they refused to get out of the road. The landscape had a serenity and peacefulness about it and it was lovely. Along the sides of the roads we also spotted people bending among the shrubs where the forest receded from the road, and realised they were foraging for blueberries. Sadly, we never got round to stopping and picking any ourselves…. Possibly on the way back when we had more time. That evening we spent the night away from the main road hiding down a forest track. The air smelled strongly of pine and the sun glimmered through the trees. It was a lovely evening and we were very content to be in Siberia. So far it had been a very pleasant experience indeed. On Wednesday 13th August we arrived in Chita by late afternoon, and managed to park a few kilometres out of town which allowed us to explore potential hotels on foot. Unbeknown to us however, we had lost two hours since leaving Mongolia and were now GMT+9hrs ahead. Chita was a pleasant city and felt more modern and bustling than Ulan Ude. We walked down a hill and into the town centre which comprised a large square with landscaped gardens flanked by large smart Government buildings in the Renaissance style. The sun shone warmly, but we could see dark clouds rolling in from the east as we walked up the steps of a posh looking hotel (Mont Blanc). It was a huge hotel and located right in the centre of town, so hopes of registration were high (as well as a bath!). It turned out the hotel would register us, but they were very busy and wanted £123 (eqv.) for a room! It was a bit steep, so Ed started to haggle (no doubt using his beard to distract them). Hilariously no word of English was spoken (as we would expect) but somehow we managed to communicate with the two ladies at the desk for more than 20 minutes using the receptionist’s iPad and Google Translate. They were very kind and explained that the hotel was almost fully booked, pointing at the stacks of Chinese passports (that also required processing for registration). Finally they conceded to offer us a room for half the price if we agreed to only occupy it for only 12hrs (from 8pm until 8am). It was already 7pm by this time, so we agreed. Sadly however, we had to walk two and a half miles back to the truck to get our migration slips (given to us at the border) as we didn’t realise we would need them to register…. On the trot back to the truck the dark clouds caught up with us and the heavens opened. We got absolutely drenched….. Finally by 10pm we checked into the room (looking like drowned rats) and Ed decided he thought it was best if he returned to the truck just in case it was broken into during the night. I wasn’t happy letting him go alone, but to all intents and purposes we had to stay at the hotel to be registered and the receptionist promised to return our passports when we checked out the following morning. Needless to say, I took advantage of the bath, hot water and free Wifi while Ed slinked out of the hotel un-noticed, and in heroic style returned to the truck on his lonesome (which incidentally we had parked outside a graveyard)…. Because we had lost 2hrs the previous day, we actually had to check out at 6am (our time). Subsequently Ed arrived at 7.15am (5.15am eqv.) and we checked out – registered passports in hand (and with a pair of complimentary slippers that I had pilfered from the room). That morning we frequented the Beeline Offices and sorted out our mobile internet dongle before continuing east to Magadan. Ed had checked the distance and we had roughly more than 5,000km from Chita to our final destination. It was going to be a long slog. On the night of 14th August we parked in a beautiful meadow full of golden grass and wild flowers and all day we had marvelled at the colours of Siberia on show in late summer. Almost everywhere we spotted pretty pink balsam which had seeded in the hot sunshine and filled the pastures with a stunning magenta hue alongside beautiful fluffy grasses and flame-red shrubs. It was lovely. For a time we had also driven alongside the Trans Siberian Railway and spotted trains mostly pulling endless carriage after carriage of what looked like oil and/or chemicals (and very few passenger trains). It was great to see such an iconic landmark of Russia and Siberia however, and it certainly put a smile on Ed’s face. The following day (August 15th), it was Ed’s 33rd birthday. :p xxxx We got on the road early and stopped at a pretty stream where I made Ed a birthday full English breakfast, and I suggested we take it easy and do something nice, but all Ed wanted for his birthday was to drive through Siberia…. He was easily pleased and was eager to get the miles in to Magadan. Similarly, we were conscious of the fact that summer in Siberia was coming to an end and apparently there is no autumn here, someone flicks a switch and then suddenly its winter. Having said that, as we drove further east, we noticed the nights getting considerably cooler and morning mists started to appear rising from the forests and it certainly began to feel a bit autumnal. On the 15th we also received a text from Jeroen (heading the Dutch Campereis Convoy that we had met previously in Western Kazakhstan and then in Kyrgyzstan). Jeroen’s message indicated that he was one day ahead of us and he was eager to know where we were, and suggested we convoy to Magadan with him. All things considered, Ed and I agreed that this was a very sensible idea as Ed had no idea what the roads would be like the closer we got to Magadan and most importantly he was desperate to drive (even a small section) of the ‘Old Summer Road’, part of the original ‘Road of Bones’ which we had heard was currently impassable. Jeroen’s huge MAN truck would be able to pull us out if we got stuck in the Siberian mud and equally we could provide him with the same security. Also one of Jeroen’s party (Virginia) spoke fluent Russian which meant we could give up our flamboyant hand gestures when trying to communicate with the locals. We decided to catch up with them as best we could. By late afternoon the scenery changed to pointed mountains carpeted in mixed deciduous woodland and all other views diminished. One thing we had noticed however, was that the Siberian forest appeared to be in a cycle of burning (purging) and regeneration. Occasionally large swathes of tall lifeless tree trucks would flank the roads and spread up the mountain sides. They looked all spindly like thousands of giant matchsticks and gave the landscape an oppressive eerie feel. That night we parked down a forestry track just off the main road and as luck would have it, we had a full mobile signal and so Ed managed to get online and read all of his birthday messages (on FB and by text). Ed: ‘Big hugs for all my lovely birthday messages’. On Saturday 16th we continued east towards the junction where the M58 (our current road) met the M56 (the road north to Yakutsk). The Siberian sun was shining potently once more and by late afternoon we had arrived on the Kolyma Highway (M56). It was a real landmark for Ed and to reach it was a huge achievement and milestone of the trip. We were now well on our way to Magadan and the Road of Bones (or so we thought….). Sadly, the road from the M58/M56 junction to Yakutsk was utterly horrendous and our progressed slowed considerably. The Kolyma Highway was under construction and about 90% of it comprised an ungraded gravel surface full of undulations and worst still…. The dust! Every time a vehicle passed or overtook us there was a total white out and we chocked and sputtered depressingly, hour after painful hour. Evidently it hadn’t rained for a while and now we longed for ‘just a little bit of rain’ to dampen down the dusty road. For two and a half gruelling days our bones rattled and our backs and necks ached as we slowly trundled (at a measley 20mph) along one of the worst roads of the trip so far. It was more than 1,200km(!!!) to Yakutsk, and on 18th August we put in a 14 hour long driving day on this horrendous road in an attempt to catch up with the Dutch. What made the experience even more challenging (apart from the dust and the constant bone rattling), was that the only views out of the window for two and a half days were of thick forest lining the road (and the trees were covered in ugly brown mud and dust). It was mentally and physically tough and in the backs of our minds we knew we would have to do it ALL again on the return journey home, as there was only one road to Yakutsk. It didn’t bear thinking about at the moment. Finally at 10pm we arrived in time to watch the sunset over the river Lena and rejoiced as the worst road in the world dissolved into featherlike tarmac on the approach to Yakutsk. And there awaiting us, alongside the river bank were the two remaining vehicles of the Dutch convoy parked opposite the Lena (in the Yakutsk Ferry Car Park). To say we were happy to see them was an understatement. Stiff and extremely tired we hopped out to greet Jeroen, Yolande, Virginia and Angeline and we spent a few minutes greeting them (whilst being mullered by mosquitoes) before dragging our fatigued souls and battered bodies to bed. The world was a much nicer place after Yakutsk. The following day (Tuesday 19th) we had all agreed to leave early as everyone was anxious to get to Magadan while the weather remained dry and warm. We were under no illusions that we were in Siberia and that the summer could end in the blink of an eye which would leave us in a real pickle. The Road of Bones officially starts north of Yakutsk and Ed was totally excited to finally be driving on it. It is called the Road of Bones because legend has it (now confirmed) that the bodies of deceased Gulag prisoners were interred into the road during its construction from the 1930’s (originally under the orders of Joseph Stalin). The prisoners were largely ordinary educated people who posed (in Stalin’s view), a potential political threat to his Communist regime. Teachers, poets, scientists, artists and philosophers, they were normal peaceful human beings and their sentence was one of brutality, hardship and starvation. Their purpose (once sent to the Gulags) was to construct the road from Yakutsk to Magadan and to work in the platinum and gold mines until their bodies gave in to sickness, fatigue and the harsh Siberian winter. In the sunshine however, we tried to enjoy the beautiful scenery. The thick Siberian forests of the previous few days had now receded to reveal wonderful golden hay fields, rustic Russian villages and stunningly pretty lakes. The land definitely began to glow with the colours of autumn with the silver birches alongside the road decaying to bright yellows and even the conifers (possibly larch) to dark bronze and reds. Horses waded in the cool waters and curious cows crossed the road, and all the while the Siberian sun shone through the truck window. It was pleasant indeed. At lunchtime we followed the Dutch convoy, stopping at a small café to eat. It was a sweet little place with several wooden picnic-style benches covered in table cloths and with lace curtains hovering over the windows. Virginia ordered the food and Ed and I tucked into meatballs, plov and some wonderful salads (day I say it!). By late afternoon we finally arrived at the banks of the River Aldan. The river was enormous and the only way to cross it was by ferry boat. Subsequently for the first time during our trip (excluding the boat from Dover to Calais) the truck got its sea legs on…. Hehe. All three of our vehicles squeezed on to the ferry (we got on last) and at first it didn’t look like there was enough room. How wrong we were however, as the ferry boat wouldn’t leave the shore until it was completely full. Over the course of an hour we waited for more vehicles to turn up and only after two Uaz’s (which look like old fashioned VW campers) and two small cars squeezed on, were we finally allowed to set off. The evening sunshine was wonderful and it was lovely to watch Siberia drift by with a warm breeze on our faces. The river sparkled in the sunlight and the banks were lined with sandy beaches flanked by the Siberian Taiga (coniferous woodland). We kept our eyes peeled to the shore (for bears) and simply enjoyed the 1.5hr boat ride from the top deck. The truck was perfectly happy having a well deserved rest, as was Ed after the recent relentless driving. We chatted merrily to Jeroen, Jolande, Virginia and Angeline and the time flew by. Eventually the port town of Khandyga appeared before us and it was time to exit the boat (and pay the ‘unknown’ fee for the crossing which turned out to be 3000 Rubles; £50). In the evening sunlight we passed through the quaint town of Khandyga which was one of the most beautiful we had seen in all of Central Asia and Russia. The faces of the locals were distinctly Mongolian; the descendants of nomadic reindeer herders that historically occupied this area of Siberia. The houses were in the typical Russian style however, built from dark timber with ornate carved windows and doors painted in bright colours ranging from orange to blue to green. All of the gardens comprised beautiful allotments filled with vegetables (to keep the inhabitants through the winter) and one garden was especially beautiful and filled with blazen red flowering gladioli. It was utterly lovely and so very remote. The people here were grafters, but above all else they were survivors. We had noticed that in the faces of the rural Russian men was a determination and grit that we don’t see back at home in the UK. Mostly they always looked sooo mean! For one thing they are all incredibly physical and capable, and could probably fix and build anything they set their minds too. And they are tough, which makes them extra frightening because they have all likely completed some kind of military service and know exactly how to punch someone in the face. Having said that, every single Russian man that has approached us to say hello and ask about the truck (mostly this occurs at fuel stations) have been incredibly kind, so looks are evidently deceiving. After passing through town we eventually stopped for the night down a pretty off road track opposite a tributary of the River Aldan. Ed and I immediately scrambled down the steep muddy bank to the pebbly beach and soaked up the beautiful view of the river which glowed purple and grey in the late evening sunlight. Albeit the mosquitoes were out on force, Ed skimmed some stones and I took some photos. We were so happy (once more) to be in Siberia after the awful few days before Yakutsk. It was fantastic sharing the road with the Dutch and an additional benefit was that it was much easier to get to sleep at night being part of a convoy. You didn’t have to keep one ear twitching. We woke to another misty morning on Wednesday 20th August and set off early once more along the Kolyma Highway (Road of Bones) on route to Magadan. The plan for today was to visit the Gulag museum for which Jeroen had a GPS location. Unfortunately the museum had been moved to a school located within a village more than 70km further away and by some luck we managed to find it. There were no signs indicating its existence and it bemused us how any non-Russian speaking tourist would have a chance. With Virginia with us, we got directions. It amazed me once more that even though we were in one of the most remote places on the earth, life still went on as normal. The school building housing the Gulag exhibit was modern looking and well looked after with a picket fence painted in wonderful pastel hues. The playground had swings and slides and huge Russian tyres had also been painted in bright colours and used as giant plant pots for happy sunflowers. Inside, a very sweet Russian lady with blue eyes and blonde hair greeted us and we entered a large room; one part library and office and one part an exhibition displaying information about the Gulag’s. There were maps, photographs and artefacts displayed in cabinets and Virginia kindly translated everything in English because ashamedly (for us) Jeroen, Yolande, Angeline and Virginia all spoke English as well as Dutch! It was wonderfully insightful and an experience we would never had achieved on our own. We learned that over 700,000 people (men and women) died building the Road of Bones and working in the gold and platinum mines, and by the end of the 1960’s there were 3.5million people living and working in the gulag camps. Artefacts from the camps included hand tools, bits of clothing and old wooden (original) kilometre markers. Because of the permafrost in Siberia, the road had to be built on a wooden base constructed from felled trees which were laid perpendicular to the road surface, to prevent the overlying gravel stone surface sinking into metres of bog through the summer months (when the permafrost partially melts). We were shown a map displaying the headquarters of the Gulag camps and told that every 10 to 15km a Gulag was positioned along the road. In addition Gulags were also created for the mining of gold (and platinum) and it is estimated that one person died for every kilogram of gold extracted from this area of Siberia. That was the price of a human life. We left the museum in the warm Siberian sunshine and albeit it was another beautiful day, thinking about all the people that had suffered here definitely weighed us down. We continued north east and the road began to rise in altitude. Yakutsk is only about 150mASL which explained the low-lying wetlands we had visited since leaving the town. Now we were heading into beautiful high peaked mountains with only the less elevated hills carpeted in dark green forest. The road surface was excellent (albeit not tarmac) and we managed to cover a couple more hundred kilometres over the course of the afternoon. Over that time the road traversed beautiful crystal clean rivers which meandered through the mountains with large gravel and sand beaches along the banks. The vistas were exactly how we had imagined Siberia and we were expecting to see a bear any minute, splashing around in the emerald green pools. All the while, the trees and short shrubs lining the road continued to glow with the colours of autumn, but now that we were further north, the elevated slopes of the mountains were covered in a pale green grey lichen that looked like pale sand from a distance. All the while, large areas of the road were under construction and we passed over a brand new bridge (recently completed) at the bottom of a stunning valley. The road was filled with giant dumpers and machines and huge Russian vehicles pushing soil around and of course, Ed loved it. That evening we ascended another valley before catching up with the Dutch (they drive faster than us) where they had made camp along a gravel river bed opposite a crystal clear gushing river. Soon Ed and Jeroen had started a fire and we were all warming ourselves around it and enjoying the wonderful views of the mountains from whence we came. Suddenly a large Russian Ural turned up from nowhere and three men inside waved at us cheerily as they drove passed. It turned out they were also camping along the river (slightly further down) and thirty minutes later one of the men came to visit us. He looked to be in his early thirties and had brown hair and a wonderfully kind open smile. In his hand was a bucket of live fish; greyling that he had just caught and he was offering them to us as a gift, but urged us to eat them raw, i.e. Siberian Sushi! Ed and Virginia immediately agreed to try it and I initially shied out of the way. Soon he was filleting them alongside the river and sprinkling them with salt and pepper. Everyone was eating it, so of course I tried some!!!! And it was totally fantastic and had the most wonderful flavour – almost herbal. There were so many in the bucket however, that we agreed to keep some to grill on the BBQ the following evening. We invited the kind young man to sit by the fire with us and Virginia offered him all sorts (beer, vodka) but he would only take tea. Once more with the presence of Virginia, we were able to talk to the young man and we discovered that he was working as one of the engineers, installing the piles for the road (which incidentally had to be at least 40m deep to support it!). They were only able to work in the summer months and he shocked us when he explained that within 6 weeks temperatures in this area would drop to minus 40’C! It was hard to imagine when day in and day out (since crossing the border) the sun had shone warmly and the daytime temperatures hadn’t dropped below 20’C. As dusk approached we waited for the Siberian stars to appear, all still huddled around the fire (now it was cold!). The young Russian shook his head however (when Virginia enquired about the Siberian stars), and he said ‘No. Tonight it will be a white night’. And he was right. For the first time in my life I experienced an everlasting twilight (although we did spot 3 stars in the pale sky before we went to bed ;p). We were reminded of how far north we actually were (but not yet the furthest north we would be) and it started to feel more and more like we were experiencing Siberia. On 21st August we woke to a very chilly morning by the river, setting off at 7am. Ed had kept the heating on all night, so we slept very happily and all cosy in the truck (don’t worry mam!). We had chatted with Jeroen and the decision was made to make it to Magadan within the next three days as we didn’t want to push our luck with the weather. The conversation with the lovely local Russian lad last night (I am so sorry I need to check his name with Virginia) had made us all a bit anxious that the Siberian Summer was very soon going to come to an end. We were reminded again that there is no autumn here. Just summer and winter. Also the fact that we had had no rain for 10 days straight was also a worry – surely we were due some. All the while Ed was torn as he knew that Magadan was the goal, but he yearned to attempt to drive the Old Summer Road as the recent dry and warm weather would mean we had a chance of completing at least part of it; the river crossings would be low and mud was likely to be in less supply! In the end however, it was agreed to make it to Magadan first and attempt the Old Summer Road on the way back to Yakutsk. We would have to pray for more sun and suffer the fate of the road gods! We set off, the Dutch disappearing in a cloud of dust as they were much faster than us (but we would always meet up at the end of the day). The early morning sunshine was utterly beautiful and very soon we were passing through a stunningly enchanting valley where the forest had once more receded from the road to reveal an almost ‘heathland’ style landscape, that was definitely coloured with the hues of autumn. Bright reds and dark pinks were intermingled with golden yellows and rich bronze as the late summer grasses and shrubs accepted the end of summer. It was so ridiculously beautiful that we had to get out of the truck and breathe in the air (and take some photos). Also the view that Siberia had no autumn (for me) was blown out of the water. We were clearly experiencing it in full bloom, along with the cool nights and misty mornings. The landscape glowed with an opulence that fed the eyes and soothed the soul. It was really quite romantic. By lunchtime the autumn hues were replaced by milky blues lakes and deep foreboding bogs and in some places it was obvious that large areas of lowland had been flooded following construction of the road, where swathes of dead trees rotted in the deep swampy waters. It was still a pleasant landscape however, and we stopped for lunch opposite a pretty lake where wading birds straddled the water’s edge. Later in the afternoon we ascended once more into forested mountains on a winding steep mountain track, closely approaching our most northerly point of the entire trip. The previous evening, our young Russian visitor had told us that there were no bears in this area as they had nothing to eat. As we turned one of the meandering bends however, Ed started shouting ‘Bear Bear!’ and literally metres from the truck (running alongside it) in the ditch of the road under Ed’s window, was a black bear! We couldn’t believe our eyes! Within seconds it had bounded up the banking and was out of sight. Ed stopped the truck and we scanned the forest edge, and then Ed was shouting again ‘Bear Bear’! And there was another one (or possibly the same bear), running ahead of us across the road! It wasn’t massive (possibly a juvenile) and about 1m long and it dashed off the road just in time to avoid an oncoming Uaz. The men in the Uaz smiled gleefully giving us the thumbs up as they passed by. Obviously they were out of the moon to see a bear as well! We were so incredibly lucky to have seen it. It took us a while to calm down! About 10 minutes after the bear sighting we reached our most northerly point of the trip: 64.61 degrees north and it is our understanding that the Arctic Circle is 67 degrees north (the UK is 56). It was a triumphant moment and we gave a ‘whoop whoop’ to celebrate to milestone. Only one left to go now – Magadan, which would be the furthest east we had ever been. That evening we caught up with the Dutch who had parked just off the main road (kindly allowing us to spot them easily). The last hundred kilometres of the day had seen the end of the ‘scenic’ stretch of road (which largely started in Yakutsk) and instead the views were replaced by dark foreboding (treeless) covered mountains of schist and slate. The track was black where the local material had been used to surface the road, and the overall effect of the landscape was one of a slate quarry. The Dutch already had a fire going and kindly shared the remaining greyling with us which was grilling on the fire. It was delicious and we supplemented it with our own homemade potatoe curry and eggy bread. We were shattered and so made for an early night. On the morning of 22nd August we were ready to go at 7am and Jeroen told us to head off first as they would catch us up. We did just that and throughout the course of the day the Dutch never did catch us up. We got a bit worried and stopped for several breaks and a long lunch but there was still no sign of them. Eventually in the late afternoon we arrived at a large town (with mobile reception) and then two text messages arrived to Ed’s phone indicating that Jeroen had tyre trouble and had to back track to the nearest village for repair. Subsequently they would be returning to the campsite of the previous night. We however, had almost completed our quota (of 450km) and so conceded that we would likely now re-meet the Dutch in Magadan. The scenery that day made us finally realise the source of the Siberian gold that fuelled the opening of the Gulags in the 1930’s. About 50km north of a town called Susuman and for the remainder of the day we passed stockpile after stockpile of alluvial river gravels – dumped everywhere. There was nothing else in the valley. Occasionally we would see large machines processing the gravels with screeners and Ed spotted several water tanks and silt busters. Originally we thought that the gravel was perhaps material stockpiled in preparation for repair of the road, but the stockpiles just went on and on as far as the eye could see for hundreds of kilometres within the river valley. The entire operation was on an epic scale and all the while the road of bones meandered within the carnage. We drove on and on that day until the track ascended into the mountains again, and literally about 20 minutes before we stopped for the night, we had our second bear sighting! Much like the previous day we turned around a bend and there it was; another black bear (slightly further ahead this time) and running along the ditch on the left side of the road, it’s black and golden bottom bouncing up and down as it ran away from us. Seconds after, it bounded up the bank and was out of sight! We were totally elated to have seen two bears in two days and knew that lady luck was shining on us. We were just hoping that she would shine on us a bit longer and keep the weather warm and dry. Not long after the bear siting we pulled down a forested track and spent the night hiding in the woods parked in a shallow stream (yes actually parked in the water). It was a quaint little spot and we knew that no one would bother us there. Rain came in the night and when we woke the following morning the stream was a little higher than it had been the previous evening, but it still wasn’t a problem for the truck. Subsequently Saturday 23rd August was our first cloudy day in Siberia and there was definitely more of a nip in the air, but it still wasn’t epically cold by any stretch of the imagination. Sadly however, for the most part of the day, the scenery matched the weather as we continued through mile after mile of gravel stockpiles. Occasionally we would pass through a town or small village that appeared abandoned and apocalyptic with decaying buildings and rusting machinery. They were eerie, but Ed found their dereliction fascinating. We pondered whether the towns existed only while the river gravels alongside them were being panned for gold…. Who knew. After driving about 200km we kept our eyes peeled for a turn off leading to a Gulag (Dneprovskii) for which we had a GPS position from Jeroen. The maps indicated an off road track measuring 18km and we decided to go for it, as so far we had stuck only to the major routes since entering Siberia. We weren’t disappointed either as the track was utterly beautiful and within a few kilometres we were in the most picturesque valley imaginable. To call it an Autumn Wonderland is no exaggeration. Trees lined the track and the sun (which had finally made an appearance) glinted through the forest floor to reveal pale green lichens and mushrooms protruding everywhere. Occasionally the track would open out to reveal a largely treeless landscape filled with blazing red and pink shrubs, fluffy wild cotton lining the road and every shade of green in the mountains rising up from the valley floor. Mushrooms occasionally poked curiously up through the centre of the track and some of them were huge, and crystal clear streams occasionally tinkled over the road. The overall effect was utterly enchanting and one of mystery and beauty combined. The track itself was an off road dream for Ed. The road was so old and worn that the wooden timber (on which the road would have been originally built) occasionally poked out through the gravel surface and large hollows appeared where the road had been largely washed away. We had been lucky with the weather of late, but here on the track the hollows were filled with mud and water. Subsequently Ed bravely smashed the truck through giant puddle after giant puddle and thankfully the majority of them had firm gravel or wood at the base. The frightening ones however, were the ones where even the original timbers had rotted away meaning all that was left was boggy swamp from the partially melted permafrost. One puddle caught us out and we smashed into a deep hole where the front of the truck dropped over a metre deep into the water. Ed got out to check for any damage; there was none, so we continued on as best we could to the Gulag. After several river crossings and more beautiful vistas we finally arrived at the Gulag and I have to say I was a bit apprehensive about what we would see. We cleared a bend and then a giant dilapidated dark wooden structure loomed before us. On the hill behind it stood a derelict hut. Ed parked the truck and we got out to explore. Inside the hut we were surprised to see a rickety old table and bits of broken furniture and in the centre of the room was positioned a metal wood burner connected to a pipe / chimney which still poked through the roof. Rolled pieces of hessian hung over the door frame (an old draft excluder perhaps) and the walls were constructed out of thin strips of wood (wattle and dawb) which Ed said would have originally been covered in mud. The whole building leaned and creaked in the wind. It was so atmospheric, so bleak. With hushed voices we exited the hut and climbed up to the larger wooden structure. Ed wandered off and called to me to come and see. I rushed to catch up with him to find he was poking his head through a dark hole, and to get there he had climbed through 15m of derelict collapsed wood which looked to have originally comprised a tunnel. He was staring into a mine. I came to join him and took his place staring into the dark hole, bowing my head in the low entrance. I couldn’t see very much except for a wall of ice some 20m at the rear of the hole (which Ed had discovered when using the flash on the camera). The position of the Gulag so far from the road suddenly made sense. Now that our eyes knew what we were seeing, we spotted old wooden railway tracks exiting the mine and focused our eyes on large stockpiles of rock that we had seen whilst entering the Gulag. With a wall of ice in the door of the mine during late summer, it was difficult to imagine conditions in the Gulag during the Siberian winter. With more exploration we located the perimeter fence (where barbed wire remained) and scattered all over the floor were rusted tin cans and nails from the old railway. We climbed to one of the rock stockpiles and surveyed the view down the valley in the late afternoon sunshine. It was so beautiful in its haze of green forest and autumnal bloom. All of it was spoiled thinking about the people who had to endure here. They likely never saw any beauty in it at all. It was very sad. We took another track (in the truck) which led passed a wooden lookout out tower and numerous larger wooden buildings that had partially collapsed. We assumed they were the accommodation of the Gulag prisoners and in their derelict state they looked dark and creepy. I didn’t want to look inside them. On the opposite side of the valley however, we spotted more mine shafts with shattered wooden tunnels linking the entrances to the valley floor. We assumed they were some kind of shoots allowing the mined material to be transported down easily. The size of them were something else. It was such a fascinating place. As we turned to exit the Gulag a large vehicle appeared in front of us, but kindly pulled over for us to pass by. As we passed them we could see two men inside the vehicle and the back of it was filled with all sorts of equipment. One of the men jumped out to talk to Ed. We could see that he was very interested to see who we were (and probably what we were doing here) and kept saying ‘dree machina?’ meaning three vehicles? He was obviously keeping a close eye on people coming in and out of the Gulag. Ed told him we were only one vehicle and that we were tourists. The man nodded and got back in his vehicle and we drove off sharpish. We managed to google the Gulag and learned that it had been a tin mine (and not gold, as we had initially assumed). Tired, we found a very nice camp spot on a gravel spit along the river and Ed had to drive through the river for us to get there ensuring no one would be able to bother us. On Sunday 24th August, we continued to drive the final 260km (south) to Magadan, our journey’s end. The scenery improved somewhat along the route as the gravel stockpiles diminished, but the road however, got progressively worse towards the town! And finally at 5.30pm (+9hrs GMT, although in Magadan we were +12hrs GMT) we arrived in Magadan in the warm Siberian sunshine. It was unbelievable. We had made it!!!!! Elated we hopped out at the giant blue ‘Magadan Sign’ on the edge of town and took some photos. The Dutch had made it there before us and given their GPS position which was opposite the ‘Mask of Sorrow’ a wonderful memorial sculpture built in memory of the hundreds and thousands of people that perished in the Gulags. It is a giant face of stone with a huge tear, and within the tears are more faces crying more tears. It’s a very sad and beautiful sculpture. Once we arrived, the Dutch kindly cracked out the Champagne and we all toasted our arrival in Magadan (I keep saying ‘the Dutch’ sorry – Virginia is Moldovian btw). After the bubbly, Ed and I walked up to the memorial and took a little time to absorb our location. It was a lovely view alongside the memorial, which looked down onto Magadan and the sea. It was overwhelming to get to Magadan and I can’t speak for Ed right now, but I am sure he feels the same way, and mostly proud of his achievement. We really have driven to the ends of the earth crossing over twelve time zones and we have visited some truly remarkable and beautiful countries over the past few months, With my own eyes I have witnessed more beauty and wonder than I could ever have imagined I would ever see in my own lifetime. All I have to say is thank you Ed for bringing me here, and sharing this with me…. I have never been so happy. I am so proud of Ed and I hope that all of you lot (friends and family) are too, and that you are all doing a WHOOP WHOOP now for us in Magadan!!!!! And now…. Only 12,000 odd miles to Blighty…. (via the beach mind you). Miss you all. We’re coming home now. Only about 12,000 odd miles to go….. Lots of Love. Ros and Ed xxxxxxxx
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Hello. Have finally got round to finishing the blog. The last three weeks in Mongolia were amazing and some of the most exciting and memorable of the trip. After leaving Ulaanbataar on the 17th July we were really excited to be back in the truck and back on the road. After some deliberation and discussion with Nara (our Mongolian translator on the south Gobi trip) we decided to spend the rest of our time in Mongolia exploring the diverse Aimag of Bayanhongor. It meant travelling south-west from the capital (and in the wrong direction to the border we would take with Siberia), but the promise of crystal caves, ancient valleys of petroglyphs and the challenge of overlanding in the Gobi (Bayanhongor is part of the ‘middle Gobi), was too exciting to miss. On the evening of 17th July we camped in the hills above the Millennium Road (a tarmac road which would take us over 600km to the town of Bayanhongor, the Aimag’s capital). On the morning of the 18th we were ridiculously lazy. The South Gobi trip had tired us out, so we spent most of the day in the truck, snoozing and watching DVD’s. When we finally surfaced and drove back down to the road, who was coming towards us; only Dagma and Klaus in their silver Land Rover – the German couple who had shared two road blockades with us in Tajikistan (Khorog) and Kyrgyzstan (Sopu Korgan). It was fantastic to see them! We caught up on their adventures in Mongolia and we marvelled that we had bumped into them in such a massive country as this! Only a few days before we had been there, Dagma and Klaus had even stayed in the same Ger camp as us in the South Gobi (Erdenet) except they had driven there themselves! After a little while chatting, we were suddenly disturbed by the approach of a large white car. A man hopped out and pointed at the Land Rover and the Truck and said ‘How much? Can I buy one of these vehicles?’. It was hilarious! We all laughed and shook our heads and said ‘No’. None of us would be able to get home without the vehicles and our documents didn’t allow us to sell up. After more chatting, the weather turned windy and cold, so we bade farewell to Dagma and Klaus who had also extended their visas and were heading to Kharahorum (the same as us) before heading north to Khovsgol and then to Baikal. We all joked hoping to meet at the border at the same time, or later in Germany (with the promise of Schwartzwolderkirchetorte renewed!). The day almost over, we drove about 50km before heading to the hills once more. Rain and strong winds had set in, and we were still really tired. That night (in the pouring rain) we heard the purr of a motorbike and two nomads appeared outside and knocked on the door of the truck. Ed had the steps down and so invited them in. They were dripping wet but very friendly and as usual, very curious about us and the truck. Soon they were inviting us back to their Ger for the night. They didn’t seem to understand why we wanted to sleep on the side of a mountain in a ferocious gale and torrential rain. Ed managed to deter them and soon they were on their way, only to return 30 minutes later with gifts of aireg and pancakes. It was still pouring outside and pitch black. Ed hopped out to accept the gifts (the ladder now stowed away) and because they were so sweet bringing us presents, I opened the bottle of Chinese Plum wine I had picked up in Russia and poured out some glasses. Soon Ed was throwing a glass to the earth and air (the first drops of alcohol go to nature in Mongolia, as is custom), followed by us toasting each other. They seemed impressed when I shouted ‘Toldor!’ the Mongolian for ‘Cheers’ which we had learned successfully on the South Gobi trip whilst sharing vodka with our group. After a few minutes more chatting, the two men went on their way and we felt happy and accepted to be parked near their Ger’s just down the hill. On the morning of the 19th July we made our way west to the ancient city of Kharahorum, the former capital of Mongolia (before it was moved to Beijing). It was another day of mud and carnage as it rained all day. One section of the Millennium road turned to dirt track and inevitably people started to get stuck in the wet mud! Luckily not us! Very soon we were rescuing a Mongolian Delica full of people. They waved us over and Ed got out and started unwinding the winch. The senior of the family came to greet Ed and help pull out the winch, but it was so muddy and slippey however, I watched aghast as the old man fell into the mud. Ed helped him up and about 5 minutes later we had freed the vehicle from the soft ground. The family were so pleased, they whipped out a tub of clotted cream and donuts and invited us to eat some. The clotted cream was immense (it makes me giggle as Ed does all the rescuing and I still get given free food! Lol). We continued to Kharahorum without spotting anyone else requiring a winch and before entering the town, we decided to ascend the hill above it for the remainder of the day. The driving had been hard going for Ed and we were still tired. It was a bit ropey getting to the top of the hill (and out of sight). We were suddenly in a position where 10 tonnes of truck were sliding down the mountain, Ed couldn’t get any grip on the wet slick soil. Eventually we found some solid ground and stopped in a hollow in the hills. A thick fog descended and all views of Kharahorum disappeared. We were too tired to care however, and settled down for the night. On Sunday 20th July we were greeted by a young lad (around 12 years old) looking smart in a sky blue robe, sat on a large brown horse. Ed jumped out of the truck to greet him and took a photo of him with the Polaroid camera. He seemed a bit spooked by us at first (again I blame the beard) but was happy when Ed handed him the photo. Soon after he disappeared down the mountain. The fog had cleared but it was still a cloudy cool day. Perfect really for exploring Kharahorum. We hoped to visit the old Buddhist Monastery and go in search of food and a possible market. Kharahorum however, turned out to be very small and sleepy. We very easily found the Buddhist Monastery pulling up outside the wall lined with a multitude of Stupas (a white turret in-which statues of Buddha’s and other relics are housed). Opposite the wall was a friendly looking market with stalls and restaurants. As we were parking we spotted Dagma and Klaus’ Land Rover. Obviously they had made it to Kharahorum as well! And there they were, as we walked to the Monastery entrance, they appeared exiting it. We spent a few minutes chatting again, before waving goodbye and entering the Monastery. Inside were several temples (converted to museums housing relics, tapestries and statues). The temples had pretty dark green ceramic tiles and slanted roofs that flick out at the edges (Tibetan-Chinese style). Many of the tapestries depicted strange looking demons and one of the rooms house three giant golden Buddha’s about 10ft tall. We also popped our heads into the ‘active’ part of the Monastery where young Lama’s (monks) were studying before heading back out to the market stalls. We were quite hungry so we decided to frequent one of the small cafes. There was an old lady outside trying to attract business into hers. She had a nice smile and a kindly face, so we opted for her café. Inside it was very small and basic but a lovely family affair. The menu was obviously in Mongolian ‘only’, but luckily for us the young daughter who served us spoke a bit of English. Soon we were tucking in to dumplings and fried pancakes with meat and onion inside accompanied by warm milk tea (the hot beverage of Mongolia). The young daughter practised her English on us while her father sat next to Ed bemused to see foreigners. He mostly beamed and chuckled at us while we ate. It was quite funny. The young daughter explained that she was studying in college but that her sister would very soon be going to a University in Ulaanbataar. It was lovely chatting with her. We tried to explain that we had driven from the UK and we pointed at the truck outside. When we were done, we paid £1.50 each for our lunch before heading back to the truck and into town in search of a supermarket and an ATM. We found one shop selling groceries (but no fresh veg, fruit or produce and managed to pick up bread, pasta, tinned tuna, eggs and dried fruit etc. before heading back out of town and then south towards Bayanhongor. It was a lovely warm sunny afternoon and we had only driven an hour or so out of Kharahorum (still on tarmac roads) when we saw a large lorry (articulated) stuck in the mud some distance from the road. There was a lady standing alongside it urgently waving her arms at us. They obviously needed help. Ed pulled off the road and we headed towards them. The lorry must have been 20T and as we approached we could see that they had dug the wheels out. Metal chains, tyres and bits of wood were strewn everywhere where they had tried to get some grip under the wheels, but they were sunk in too deep. We both hopped out to greet them and I got the video camera out as Ed prepared the winch. Within 5 minutes we had tugged them out and then Ed towed them to firm ground. The wife was so pleased. Soon she had laid her jacket down in the dried mud and insisted I sit on it while she boiled some tea. By the time Ed came over she had whipped out some doughnut cakes and clotted cream indicating for us to eat. She communicated to us that they had been stuck more than 24hrs and had spent the night there and if we hadn’t arrived they were preparing to spend a second night there. Luckily there were some Ger’s nearby that had brought some food over to them. Mongolians definitely look out for each other. The conversation made us acutely aware that if we got stuck in the mud there wouldn’t be anyone to rescue us either. The chances of another 10T truck coming along with a winch was pretty slim. It made it all the more special for us (especially Ed) that we had been around to rescue them. We thanked the lady for the tea and offered to help her and her husband load everything back onto the truck (all the chains, tyres etc. strewn everywhere). Neither of them would let us however, so as we bade them farewell suddenly the lovely wife grabbed pasta, meat, dried fish and curd from their cab and insisted generously that we take them. It was very sweet of her and we accepted, waving goodbye as we re-joined the tarmac road, as usual warmed by our encounter, Ed glowing from his good deed. Faith in humanity is restored every day in Mongolia. The people are so wonderful. By early evening we had diverted off the tarmac road into the grassy steppe hills heading south to a town called Arvayheer. It was wonderful to be on dirt tracks again soaking up the stunning scenery. The sun shone a golden yellow and we kept our eyes peeled for a spot for the night. Soon we were ascending a grassy hill topped with more craggy red rocks. Unlike all the previous grassy steppe we had seen, the grass here was much longer (higher than my knees) and absolutely crammed with wild flowers, this time, very tall flowers popping their heads above the grasses. It was a stunningly beautiful meadow eclipsing anything we had previously seen, alive with crickets and butterflies. We spotted more asters, wild blue delphiniums, dark pink dianthus, red sedums and ox-eye daisies (and they are just the ones I knew the names of). The following morning (Monday 21st July) we explored the top of the crag and took photos of all the wild flowers. It was lovely and we were greeted by more beautiful sunshine and blue sky. After an hour driving down the track however, disaster….. What we feared most. We got stuck in the mud…. We had arrived at a muddy hollow and spotted a spring running down the hill and over the grass. Following the other tyre tracks (through the mud) however, was our undoing. The mud was wet and slick, and we were on a slight uphill gradient. Before the wheels dug us in too deeply Ed stopped the truck. Ed wasn’t too worried, but my brain started to roll over our options if we couldn’t get out of the mud…. We were about 50+km from the last small village we had driven through and probably a similar distance to the main road north of Arvayheer. Worst case scenario we would spend the night in the mud and talk over our options….. Luckily however, Ed had one more card to play, even though there was nothing in sight for us to winch off. Firstly Ed dug out the wheels and tried to get some forward momentum with the grip of the freshly dug ground... It was too slimy and wet. We had to go to Plan B Ed had purchased a ground anchor on ebay (collected from Preston, Lancashire) for less than £20 before we had left the UK. He felt that the price was such a bargain, he threw in a large bottle of Jack Daniels to the seller (Thanks Rick)! There was hope of escape from the mud if we could position the anchor firmly in the ground and winch off it. Soon Ed had dug a hole and he placed the anchor inside. The anchor looks like a bent piece of metal with a shovel shaped head at one end (see pictures). After a few failed attempts Ed realised that I would have to operate the winch (yes I operated the winch!) whilst Ed put all his weight on the anchor to make it dig firmly into the ground. Next, Ed hopped in the cab and I got the film camera out while Ed operated the winch whilst steering the truck. Our team work paid off and very slowly we inched our way forward out of the mud. Amusingly, while we were attempting to rescue ourselves, a Toyota Land Cruiser bearing two locals attempted to drive past us (also through the mud). Within seconds they had also ground to a halt. The silly buggers had got stuck in the mud as well! We thought they were a bit twp (welsh for silly) to have driven alongside us. They must have seen that we were stuck and subsequently the route we had taken was not good! Even more hilariously, they watch us bemused while we gradually made our escape. They must have thought we weren’t getting out as they disappeared into the grassy steppe returning a little while later with arms laden with rocks to place under their wheels for grip. By then we had moved the anchor twice and winched our way some 40m up the muddy slope to freedom, Ed getting out to reposition the anchor with a new hole so we could clear the mud completely. The Toyota Land Cruiser’s further attempts to escape the mud failed however, and by our final winch they were watching us in anticipation as they knew we could pull them out once we made it to firm ground. Just watching the anchor ‘work’ was pure paradise for me, and especially for Ed. He had never used it before and although progress was slow, we eventually escaped the mud! We were left with immense feelings of relief and satisfaction. Similarly our confidence had been boosted a hundred fold as we now had an effective means of escape without having to rely on the slim chance of a +10T truck appearing out of the blue if we got stuck again. Soon we had also tugged out the Toyota Land Cruiser and the two young lads were over the moon. They were initially a bit wary of Ed (the beard is quite frightening to Mongolians….), and we didn’t realise how young they were. Once they were also on firm ground, the young driver whipped out a bottle of Chinggis Khan Vodka (‘Gold’ I might add, not the cheap stuff) and a massive bag of sweets and insisted Ed accept them. It was very sweet and we waved them goodbye as they sped away from the mud. We stared a little while at the distance we had winched ourselves over to freedom. It was an impressive feat and a memory I know Ed will cherish forever as he thrives on such challenges. I could also take some small credit for our escape as this time I also had black muddy feet and legs (I was wearing flip flops), although admittedly Ed did dig ALL of the holes and did about 99% of the work (hehe). I got it all on film though ;p When we finally settled down, now even more grateful to be in Mongolia and continue our adventure, we hopped back in the cab and continued south finally meeting once more with the tarmac Millennium Road that would take us all the way to the town (and Aimag) of Bayanhongor. That night we found a camp spot south of the town of Arvayheer, pulling off the tarmac road towards a disused Corrale. We hid behind a grassy hillock with a wonderfully strong smell of juniper and wormwood in the air as we hopped out of the truck. Ed celebrated with a small glass of the Chinggis Khan Vodka (Gold) to enhance his memory of the events of the day. On Tuesday 22nd July we finally made it to the town of Bayanhongor which was a reasonable size and more bustling and modern than most of the other towns we had seen. They had a very good supermarket stocked with fresh fruit and veg, meat and everything we needed. Subsequently we stocked the truck with supplies ready for our trip to the remote middle Gobi. On entering the town we had spotted a pretty tree lined river, so we made a beeline back to it to camp for the night. As we arrived several locals were washing their cars in the river or simply enjoying the warm evening sunshine. So we could find a nice quiet spot, Ed decided to drive through the river which was split in two by a gravel island dotted with trees. It was perfect. And so with the tinkling of a cool stream out of the truck window we settled down for the night. Sadly however, it was Nadaam in Bayanhongor and from 8pm until the early hours loud music attacked our ears…. We were so used to utter silence at night… We hardly slept….. The following day (Wednesday 23rd July) we decided to take advantage of the lovely stream and do some clothes washing. It was a beautiful sunny day and it also meant we could fill the water tank before heading south to the middle Gobi. By early evening we had dried most of our clothes and so decided to get a few miles in. Heading south of Bayanhongor town, the Millennium Road disappeared into dirt tracks once more. Dark storm clouds rolled in from the north-east and as we ascended the mountain leaving the town far behind us and we were treated to another wonderful rainbow. Our second in Mongolia. The views broadened as we began driving over an undulating plain of short grassy steppe with the occasional weathered remnants of bare rock poking through. We passed several Ger’s and suddenly a gigantic mountain range rose before us on the distant horizon; The Ikh Bogd Range towards which we were headed. The mountains were illuminated by the evening sunlight and glowed a dark red hue ribboned with white streaks. Volcanic in origin, they looked foreboding and epic. We couldn’t wait to get to them. I am not sure if I mentioned this in the last blog but the geological history of Mongolia goes back some 120 million years (I have been doing a little bit of reading). Before Mongolia came into being, various pieces of the earth’s crust (oceanic as well as continental) had to come together to form the country we see today (ref. Mongolian Companion Guide, Odyssey Books). Between Siberia and the (now) northern areas of Mongolia there existed a great sea, which eventually shrunk as the Mongolian continental crust collided with the Siberian Craton. The Siberian Craton (in part) is an ancient continent with rocks dating well into the Pre-Cambrian. Subsequently rocks in northern Mongolia (and southern Siberia) which were thrown up during the Orogenic collision are around 1500 million years old. The southern and western areas of Mongolia are also exciting as some of the oceanic crust was pushed up onto the continental forming an Ophiolite. Subsequently, when the dinosaurs were roaming the land some 120 to 80 million years ago, they lived in a tectonically active land of andesitc lava spitting volcanoes and earthquakes as part of an island arc system. Within the back-arcs and fore-arcs, small seas were created forming sedimentary basins. Subsequently numerous turbiditic deposits are also found in southern Mongolia from undersea landsides and even limestone formed in the warm shallow seas. As the Himalaya were being formed to the south-west and the sea shrunk between northern Mongolia and the Siberian Craton, the pieces of crust that eventually coalesced to form Mongolia were raised leaving the majority of the country 1500m to 2000m above sea level. The Ikh Bogd Mountain Range (to which we were headed) is part of the remnant island arc system which stretches all the way to the Altai Mountains in the west. That evening we finally arrived onto a wide open short grassy plain with scattered hillocks of weathered green rock (possibly schist) with the occasional prominent veins of shiny white opaque quartz running through the landscape. The veins of quartz were several metres thick in places and the overall affect was bizarre. I loved it. Subsequently we pulled off our track and parked the truck behind a large hillock of weathered quartz. It was pure white and glistening in the evening sunshine. Mongolia is full of surprises. On Thursday 24th July we continued south towards the mountains in the direction of a salty lake (Orog Nur) that we knew lay at the foot of the hills. The flat raised plain where we had spent the night eventually descended down into a large flat valley of desert steppe. A pretty (but very slim) river meandered through the centre of it all, the banks of which were dotted with Gers and herds of the five snouts (mostly goats and sheep). We continued on a sandy ridge overlooking the valley and knew that we were entering the realm of the Gobi when we spotted a herd of camels enjoying the warm sunshine. After passing through two small towns (Jinst and Bogd) we eventually followed a track south-west towards the northern shore of Oreg Nur; the salty lake. It was an attractive milky green colour and we stopped for lunch to admire it, before traversing the track along the lakes edge to the southern shore. The track varied from firm dry sand to softer loose material and some areas comprised small dunes covered in long grassy hillocks. All the while, the Ikh Bogd mountain range loomed above us. We could see the rocks almost up close now and they were a wonderful mixture of dark reds, greens and menacing purple black hues. With no dramas we reached the southern shore of the lake and decided to take a track up to the foothills of the mountains to get a closer look, and some 5km later we arrived at the base of the hills. We parked not too far from a stunning stripy feature (which I initially thought was sandstone) with alternating layers of grey, black, red and white. Behind us were sweeping and utterly majestic views of the valley from whence we came with the glinting waters of milky green Oreg Nur below. In the distance we could see large golden sand dunes on the northern eastern shore. The epic scale of the view was something we had become accustomed to in Mongolia, but it never failed to delight the eyes. After a little rest we decided to explore a bit making a beeline for the dark rocks. The truck was parked in a little hollow above a track leading into the mountains behind which yawning black-green and red cliffs opened to reveal a dark atmospheric gorge overhanging the track and I really wanted to walk up it. Unfortunately there was a large official looking yellow sign alongside the track written in Mongolian script and I thought perhaps it translated to ‘Private, No-entry’. Ed thought I was being silly, but I was a bit paranoid that there might be a gold mine up there as it had already been explained to us that a similar mountain range (in the South Gobi) was full of gold. We had been told of stories of shootings (the official mining companies opening fire on the locals trying to thieve the shiny stuff for themselves). Needless to say, I had a feeling of foreboding (perhaps because the path looked like it led to the very gates of Mordor), and so we decided to try and avoid any guerrilla gold thieves and go and explore the stripy rock feature instead. We followed an undulating animal track a little way from the truck and as we were climbing up towards the stripy rock feature Ed waved me over urgently. He had spotted a large wild horned sheep (or possibly it was an ibex) and disappointedly I arrived alongside Ed just in time to see its white and grey bottom bouncing away! Good spot Ed! The stripy feature looked even odder close up and turned out to be various layers of alternating coloured clay, smearing into one another as the material weathered down the face of the cliff. After taking a few photos we turned around to enjoy the view of the lake. All around us were weathered rounded nobbles of sandy brown rock which provided a natural frame for the epic scenery below. A little distance away we could see the truck poking out from its hollow hiding place. It still pleased Ed how much the colour of the truck blended into virtually any landscape and after taking a few more photos we returned to it to settle down for the night. And it was a horrible night….. Not long after we had fallen asleep an almighty wind blew down the foreboding black gorge behind us. The sound was terrifyingly loud and the force of the wind was colossal! It came from nowhere as the previous evening had been sunny and calm and it was soooo loud! The truck was buffeted for hours and occasionally wobbled precariously from side to side and I thought we were going to get blown over! Ed however, was confident that the truck would stay on its four wheels and subsequently he managed to get more sleep than I did…. Finally in the early hours the wind died down and I managed to get some sleep. When we finally got out of bed the following morning I was expecting to see an apocalyptic scene…. But (of course) there weren’t any buildings or trees…. So maybe a few rocks had been blown around (unbeknown to us in the storm… hehe). Subsequently there was no evidence of the night of terror apart from my blurry red eyes and Ed laughing at me for being so scared….. On Friday 25th July we continued to follow the track (bearing east) along the southern shore of Oreg Nur. The track comprised cracked baked silty sand that was all cracked and desiccated in the warm sunshine and occasionally spattered with deep footprints of the five snouts. We were acutely aware that if it rained, the track would disintegrate into a quicksand mud pit that would likely end our trip. Luckily the sun continued to shine and after an hour or so we were passing through an area of proto sand dunes alive with Saxual trees, one of the only species of tree to survive in the Gobi. They are beautiful things, all twisted with age, but not very tall. Because the growing season in Mongolia is so short (June to August) they grow very little each year. Subsequently even the ones we were seeing (around 1.5m to 2m high) were likely to be really old. Apparently they go off like jet fuel when you burn them. The track became more and more sandy and ahead of us it became evident that it had been swallowed up by a glorious five metre high golden sand dune. We came to a halt and Ed got out to look to check the firmness of the ground underfoot. Sand was the enemy because the truck has slim wheels for its weight and we could very easily dig ourselves deeply into the loose material if we happened to drive over a soft area. We made the decision to continue, but if there was ever a moment where the ground looked too risky, we agreed that we would have to turn around (give up on the Gobi) and say that ‘we tried’. We had to be really cautious and create our own new track among the soft proto dunes. Ed regularly got out to check the ground and using our GPS software we (no longer following a mapped track) kept bearing in the correct direction to pick up our original route. I was gritting my teeth throughout all of it and after an hour of eternity the sand disappeared and we found the track we needed to continue south. The mountains of the Ikh Bogd Range lay ahead and we could see a gap within them. It was our intention to pass through the mountains in search of Tsagaan Aguy (The White Cave; because it was made of white marble) for which we had a GPS coordinate (from the Lonely Planet) but unfortunately no mapped track to show us how to get there. A treasure hunt awaited us. We had read that the White Cave was encrusted with crystals and inside, artefacts dating 750,000 years had been discovered. It could not be missed! As we approached the mountains another menacing dark valley gorge appeared ahead of us. The rocks near the entrance were wonderful sandstone hues of dark reds and pink and behind these lay dark volcanic rocks, jagged and epic. It appeared that our track swung to the right but there was another track leading down a narrower gorge of dark rocks along a soft gravel riverbed. We decided to stop at the cross-roads (as it were) and have lunch before exploring the narrow track along the riverbed on foot. We had only been relaxing in the truck for 10 minutes when the wind started to pick up again and looking down the opening of the valley (from where we had driven) the view was now eerily obscured. A sandstorm had appeared from nowhere in the flat plain below where not two hours earlier we had been navigating the proto dunes, and it was whipping towards us with great speed. Ed started filming its approach while I closed all the windows and covered the air vents. Minutes later we watched as a cloud of sand funnelled down the valley towards us and the gust of wind it had brought with it finally forced the truck door closed and Ed had to continue filming through the truck window. It was quite scary and exhilarating at the same time. The wind whistled and howled, and the overall effect (for me) was a strong sense of isolation. The way we had come was now shut. There was no going back (at least for the moment). As we came to realise with the Gobi, the weather changes very quickly and within one hour the sun had returned and any evidence of a sandstorm had disappeared. Subsequently we took the opportunity to do a bit of walking and explore the track leading through the narrow gorge along the riverbed. We had been watching the track and so far had seen two vehicles (a Toyota Land Cruiser and a motorbike) opt for the riverbed route. It made us wonder whether the other track had been washed out. Walking up the track we soon realised it was very soft gravelly sand and along the right side of the riverbed was a spring (or remnants of the stream). After a couple of miles walking the track didn’t improve and subsequently, Ed made the decision that this particular track was too risky for us. We were likely to get stuck. A bit down hearted, we returned to the truck and spent the remainder of the evening worrying about the other track. We would have to give it a go and hope for the best. The following morning we took the ‘other’ track which also turned out to be a riverbed, but thankfully it appeared to be much more worn in and for the most part the ground was firm under (truck) foot. We passed through the dark green grey volcanic rocks of the mountain range and it wasn’t long before we were keeping our eyes peeled for a track heading east. Our current track was on our GPS map but the route to the crystal cave was unknown and a full 24km from the nearest point of our current track (as the crow flies). We spotted a potential track and made the decision to go for it and follow our noses. Luckily the landscape was soft undulating hills (with the occasional dried up riverbed to cross), so with plenty of positive thinking we continued to follow tracks bearing east, sometimes just driving off piste to stay on the correct bearing. After more than an hour the little arrow that represented our position got closer and closer to the GPS position and suddenly an arm of pale white rock appeared in the distance. I was convinced it was marble! We had to be heading in the correct direction. After what felt like an eternity the white rocks loomed ever nearer and we knew we had made it. Ed pulled over about 2km from the GPS position and we decided to stop for a rest and a bit of lunch before exploring the cave. Also we had to wait for the heat of the day to pass. We were in the Gobi after all and the sun was potent. I was so excited however, I could hardly eat! Eventually we set off and approached the entrance to a small gorge at the far southern end of the white marble arm of rock. We were very amused to see a little picnic bench and even a bright blue ‘P’ sign alongside it all the while thinking that we were in the middle of nowhere and there was no other human being in sight. We entered the gorge of gnarled weathered marble. Up close the pale marble rocks were tinged pink and grey and the walls rose up about 15m either side. The path was wide enough for just two people to walk side by side and it meandered around giant boulders that had collapsed from up high in a wonderful hobbity fashion. After only a few minutes an opening of a cave appeared on the right and sure enough someone had placed marble steps leading to the entrance. Of course… Indianna-Ed went first. From the brightness of the gorge it took our eyes a few seconds to adjust and as we climbed the steps we realised there were two figures inside the chamber. It made me jump but it turned out to be two bronze statues depicting the Palaeolithic (Stone Age) people who used the cave 750,000 years ago. We entered the chamber and it wasn’t very big and I couldn’t spot any crystals. Ed thought we had come to the wrong cave and as he was turning to leave I switched on my head torch and scanned the back of the chamber to reveal a dark passage at the rear of the cave! I called Ed back and with our torches (Indianna-Ed went first again ;p) we squeezed through the small passage and with heads bowed arrived in a second chamber. It was totally epic. Shining our torches at the walls, we realised we had entered the crystal cave. I was so excited! White and salmon pink jagged square shaped crystals were illuminated in the torchlight encrusting every inch of the walls and ceiling. On closer inspection I realised it was calcite and so wonderfully translucent that it glowed and sparkled in the torchlight. We kept shining our torches and discovered a smaller antechamber at the rear of the cave and also a large chamber above us accessed through a higher passage. The ceiling of the higher chamber was covered in long eared bats (we wondered what the strange squeaking noise was), all huddled together in large groups. They were cute little things (although I would likely have panicked a bit if they started to fly around!). Looking up at the highest part of the chamber our efforts were rewarded as Ed spotted much larger calcite crystals. In the dim light we could just make them out and they were huge (about 30cm long). It didn’t take too long to realise however, that the majority of giant crystals (excluding those on the high ceiling) had been bashed away leaving large opaque square shaped chunks of calcite. It made us quite sad trying to imagine how ridiculously beautiful and spectacular this cave would have been 750,000 years ago (or even 100 years ago) when all the crystals were still in-situ….. It would have been unbelievable. After about an hour (I didn’t want to leave) we finally excited the cave and explored the small marble gorge. Ed was drawn to an outcrop of much darker rocks, which from a distance reflected the sunlight. In his usual billy goat (Indianna-Ed) style he scrambled up the wall of the gorge and I (in my Crocker style) struggled to catch up. It transpired that the dark rocks were heavily weathered marble which had turned dark brown over the eons. The outcrop looked like ancient fragments of dark wood, all cracked and brittle and I picked up a fragment of it and, admiring the underside which glimmered in the sun with evaporated calcite. From the top of the gorge we enjoyed the view and followed another miniature gorge (dried up gully) back to the truck. The location was so dramatic, remote and so beautiful. We were struck again by how lucky we were to be here, experiencing it all to ourselves. That evening we sat outside the truck drinking tea and watching the sun go down. Stars appeared above us and a mild breeze broke the silence. The mountains in the distance grew darker and darker, and eventually (before any wolves appeared) we decided to climb back into the truck and settle down for the night. The next morning (Sunday 27th July) we retraced our truck tracks back to the main track of the previous morning and continued to head south further into the middle Gobi. Soon the southern flanks of the Ikh Bogd Mountain Range loomed to the right of the truck and the view was even more spectacular than the northern slopes. They were flecked with dark reds, whites, green and black rocks and looked so interesting that we couldn’t just drive passed them without taking a closer look. We picked our way over several small sandy riverbeds and undulating long grassy hillocks finally arriving at green rolling hills topped with weathered black crags of rock. We hopped out of the truck and immediately my eyes were drawn to pale peach coloured rounded pebbles dotted all over the ground. They were translucent and pitted and I wondered if they were agate (which Mongolians refer to as water crystal). After more investigation I realised the ground was absolutely littered with minerals. Within minutes I had picked up fragments of pale blue agate geodes and pieces of quartz clusters that looked like something you would pay for in a mineral shop! It was too exciting to contemplate. Subsequently we chucked on our walking boots and headed for the hills. It wasn’t long before we arrived at a rock face of weathered grey-red lava pitted with holes of which fifty percent were filled with the pale peach agate glowing prettily in the sunlight. The wall of lava formed a partially eroded gully and soon we were scrambling up it. In the rock face Ed immediately found a heavily weathered quartz geode the size of his head! And with more searching we found several slabs of blue stripy agate and wonderful quartz clusters. It was totally amazing. Finally we arrived at the top of the rock formation and Ed pointed to the ground where a giant elongate quartz geode was exploding out of the mountainside. It was over one metre long and the majority of it was still intact with stunning clear crystals each about 1cm in length sparkling in the evening sunlight. It was so unbelievable, and I never expected us to see anything like this. I was utterly overwhelmed. I had always loved minerals and crystals and my sister and I had collected them since we were little. It was one of the reasons I studied Geology at University, and here I was standing alongside a giant geode that would probably cost hundreds of pounds in a mineral shop. Of course there were tears. The entire trip so far had been a dream come true and for me, and this was the icing on the cake. Naughtily, I managed to shake a slab of the quartz geode free (to keep as a memento), placing it carefully in Ed’s rucksack (it was heavy!). I also picked up several small clusters (that looked like beautiful crystal flowers) from the debris of the geode, and was satisfied that there was still plenty left for other people to enjoy if they ‘just’ so happened to pass by this remote area of Mongolia. Tearing myself away from the geode, we continued walking towards the mountains but soon realised that only the hills in the foreground were full of minerals, so we sat to enjoy the view in the evening sunlight and absorb our surroundings and location fully. The evening sunlight was beautiful and we surveyed the valleys below us of ancient rock and rolling desert-steppe. Finally it was time to head back to the truck, both of us with fists full of agate geodes and quartz clusters. Sadly however, we both dropped all our findings in haste as a red motorcycle approached us bearing a local. We had spotted several Gers at the top of the mineral filled hills and wondered when we would be spotted. I think we both threw the rocks to the ground because oddly it felt like stealing. I know it sounds strange, but these people had lived here for generations and although no one owned the land in Mongolia, it still felt like they were the custodians of it. The nomad had a dark tan face and a nice smile and he was very soon picking up the minerals from the ground to show us anyway and (although not a word of English escaped his lips) we knew he was explaining how he understood they came to be here and he even started pointed to the hills indicating where the best ones were to be found! With enthusiastic gestures (as usual) we tried to explain that we had driven from the UK and that we adored Mongolia, and this particular place was very special indeed. We hope he understood our genuine affection for the country and didn’t think we were just here to pilfer the treasures of the mountain (which we had stumbled on unexpectedly). With a friendly wave he was on his way and I really wanted to walk back to my pile of discarded ‘treasures’ but I didn’t, musing that I had taken enough with the large quartz cluster slab (still in Ed’s rucksack). The following morning we were awoken by the purring of a motorcycle. This time the nomad (of the previous evening) had come back with his son. We hopped out of the truck and the nomad had brought a bag full of little geodes, agate and crystal clusters and he insisted on us taking them. We were overjoyed and Ed returned the favour giving him a fancy box of peanut and caramel brittle. We got our map of Mongolia out and spread it on the ground and then explained to our visitors the route we had so far travelled through Mongolia. All the while the nomad nodded energetically and explained it all to his son (who I have to say looked quite disinterested….. lol). And if the small bag of minerals weren’t enough, the motorcycle buzzed away and so we set to tidying the truck and getting back on the road, before the nomad returned a third time with a geode this time bigger than Ed’s head! It was a huge lump of rock with quartz crystals poking out the end. It seemed far too generous a gift and again the nomad insisted we take it. He didn’t ask for any money at all. Because he had been so kind however, Ed gave him $25 dollars anyway and we felt pleased he accepted the gesture. As we drove away I wondered how we were going to get the thing through customs…… We continued on the track south bearing towards our next destination; ‘Bichigt Had’ (The Valley of the Writings). We’d had a tremendous few days already and it was about to get better and better. The Valley of the Writings is a remote rocky canyon filled with 5000 year old petroglyphs and like the crystal cave we had a GPS position but no mapped route to get there. After a few hours the Ikh Bogd Range disappeared behind us and we slowly approached a new mountain range; Ikh Bayan Nuruu, and somewhere within those mountains was our destination. Our track passed through a small town before slowly ascending towards the hills, and much like the northern approach to the Ikh Bogd range (from Orog Nur) a yawning gap in the mountains appeared before us and we entered a gorge of black sided volcanic walls along another soggy sandy riverbed. In some places the sand was very soft and deep and Ed regularly got out to check the ground. He also smashed us through the sand with as much force as the truck could muster to prevent us from getting stuck and not allowing the friction of the sand to bog us to a halt. It was a bit stressful, but eventually we successfully arrived in an elevated rocky valley above the riverbed, filled with green minty grey weathered schist gleaming silver in the sunlight. It was an odd landscape but again something we had never yet witnessed (before or in Mongolia) and all the while our eyes were searching for a track bearing south-west. Our first attempt to find the correct track failed and we ended up outside a Ger (luckily no one was home). Our second attempt however, was more successful and albeit we had more than 30km of un-mapped Mongolian space to navigate, we felt confident we were going in the correct direction as dark volcanic mountains loomed ahead of us. Further we drove, and the track suddenly transformed and we were driving through a flat plateau strewn with rounded granite boulders and alive with an endless carpet of wild alliums, their pink and white pom pom flower heads bobbing in the breeze. We had seen such a carpet in the South Gobi as well. The alliums obviously loved the sand and looking into the distance their density could mistake them for grass. It was wonderful and once more reminded me of an epic scene from LOTR. After a few more hours (and after getting a little bit lost) we finally found the correct track into the mountains. We had entered a small gorge of dark red-black rocks that glinted with a metallic sheen in the sunshine. Not far from the entrance to the valley we arrived at a cross-roads with several similar valleys leading off in several directions and as Ed continued to edge the truck forward I shouted ‘stop!’ I had seen a petroglyph of an ibex on a slab of rock outside my window! We parked the truck alongside one of the dark valley walls and avoiding the heat of the day, took a short siesta in the truck before exploring the valley in the early evening. It was deathly still and quiet and I thought altogether a little bit creepy. The black rocks were dark and slightly menacing and we soon realised that there were about seven interconnecting valley’s (basically miniature gorges of their own) and my paranoid brain couldn’t help wondering what was lurking around every corner! It was silly really, but we were over 100km from the nearest town and it was bloody remote. Walking down the main arm of the valley we concentrated our attention to the south facing rocks which had turned more metallic in the sunlight, and very soon were greeted with hundreds of petroglyphs and some of them required a bit of climbing to see them. Even after ten minutes of searching, Ed spotted a huge slab about 10m above the valley floor which was covered in more than 20 petroglyphs. They consisted of mostly ibex with large rounded antlers, but with wolves (attacking the ibex) and small figures of men shooting bows and arrows. They were so simple but at the same time such beautiful images scratched into the surface of the metallic rock. After about 2hrs of exploring the valley we were flabbergasted by the place. It was an ancient relic in its own right we had it all to ourselves. We could hardly believe that there were still places like this in the world and felt like children again, all excited and ready to believe in anything. Soon however, the sun began to fade and the wind picked up. Suddenly my feelings of isolation returned as darkness descended and the black rocks looked even blacker in the fading light. I have to say, I was a bit scared that night (what a wuss I am, but you try sleeping in a spooky valley in the middle of the Gobi desert in a truck……lol). The following morning (Tuesday 29th July) we took the opportunity to explore one of the other small valleys before the sun got too high in the sky and stumbled on petroglyph after petroglyph (although I did see more depiction of wolves in this valley than the previous). I lingered alone exploring the rocks while Ed walked back to the truck and put up the awning to provide us with some shade. We remained in the valley the entire day, half expecting to see a Toyota Land Cruiser or Uaz bearing tourists. But no one came. Subsequently we went for one more walk in the evening and spent a second night in the valley (and it was just as spooky the second night! I still couldn’t sleep). On Wednesday 30th July (Congratulations Mr & Mrs Seargant!) we left the Valley of the Writings and retraced our route back to the town of Bayanlig, before heading west to our next destination Tsagaan Bulag) meaning ‘White Spring’. We had read that the locality was a large lump of white marble with rock inscriptions and of course, a spring. Also the local children slide down the rock face and over the years the marble has smoothed into a slick waterslide. By late evening (again we had no mapped route, only a GPS) we drove towards a glinting white beacon in the distance which in fact, did turn out to be the sun reflecting from a shiny marble rock surface. The outcrop was very pretty and a natural arch of weathered marble stood on the top of it, so we walked up to that first and enjoyed the view of the plateau below. After further scrabbling (I was stupidly wearing flip flops), we happened upon the rock engravings which (I thought) looked like the head and antlers of an ibex, and several strange footprints in-filled with criss-cross patterns. Next (Indianna-Ed couldn’t stop himself) we slid down the marble slide (which was dry; there was no spring). Ed was surprised how slippery it was and with a bit too much forward momentum zoomed down to the bottom, and so watching him I slowed myself down with my feet! Hehe. It was all good fun though. Not as spectacular as the crystal cave, or the Valley of the Writings, but definitely worth a look. We spent the night not far from Tsagaan Bulag on a marble slab of our very own. It was a beautiful evening and the sky was lit up with a pink and orange sunset and we marvelled at everything we had seen so far in Mongolia. The country just kept on rewarding us at every turn. If we hadn’t already been spoiled, we spent the following two days driving to an abandoned Buddhist Monastery (Amarbuyant Khidd) through more awe inspiring scenery. It took a little while (and lots of luck) but we finally found the monastery on the eve of Friday 1st August, and sadly it was no longer abandoned. The drive to it however (albeit we got very lost), was utterly spectacular. We had to navigate through undulating hills with granite teeth heaving from the earth, along a beautiful flat valley flanked with golden intricate ribboned mountains, and through various sandy river beds and muddy gorges (overlooked by suspicious herds of camels). The journey alone was worth the destination (if that makes any sense) as sadly we thought the renovation of the Monastery had not been sympathetic and we longed to see the promised (Lonely Planet) ruined version instead. After spending the night in the hills above the Monastery we continued north back to the Aimag Capital of Bayanhongor, via one final destination (on our list); Boon Tsagaan Nuur, which comprised another large salty lake. On the eve of Saturday 2nd August (whilst heading north) we rescued a Stupa loaded on the back of a small truck! Yes a Stupa! It was hilarious. We were driving along and suddenly a nomad appeared on a motorcycle waving urgently at us to stop and follow him. He had a kind face and obviously needed help, so we followed suit, and after five minutes we arrived at the stupa bearing truck, which was trapped in the sandy mud. The vehicle was blatantly overloaded and it suddenly occurred to us that the Stupa may be going to the monastery from where we had driven that very same morning. If that was the case, we knew the vehicle had no chance of making it and it did worry us a bit. Ed pulled them out with ease using the winch and the lady wife (in the truck) filmed the whole thing with her smart phone. The driver was very pleased and we wondered on the role of the old man on the motorcycle because he quickly got his wallet out and tried to give Ed money, which of course he refused profusely. Finally the old man gave in and we waved the party goodbye, another good deed completed in kind. Ed loved rescuing the locals. It felt like we were giving something back to a country from which we had taken so much pleasure. It was a good trade. On Sunday 3rd August we arrived at Boon Tsagaan Nuur through more ridiculously amazing scenery. We ascended once more into the Ikh Bogd mountain range and passed through several stunning valleys filled with alliums, wild flowers, all the while flanked by superb rock formations. About one hour before reaching the lake we passed into the most AWESOME black rocky gorge of the entire trip. It was so epic in scale and proportion Ed and I were actually frightened to be driving through it. We had to get out of the truck and challenge our fears (and take photos!). The cliffs of black metallic rock (much like that of the valley of the writings) loomed some 50 odd metres high on either side and the track on which we drove was ‘just’ wide enough (at times) for the truck to squeeze through. The atmosphere created by the rocks was one of oppression and exhilaration! It was so unnerving because we didn’t know how long the gorge would last and whether we would make it through or not. It was a real path into the unknown and the track meandered tightly from left to right, and at times there was an illusion that we would drive into a wall of rock! Only on approaching the bend did you realise that the track continued to twist and turn. It was EPIC!!! As we finally exited the gorge path (with sadness but some relief), Ed spotted a vehicle on a ridge above us on the right and so beeped the horn (thinking they were overlanders as well). It turned out to be however, a family of locals and they had broken down on the ridge and needed to borrow a spanner. Within minutes two men had scrabbled down the side of the hill followed by three small boys. We both got out to greet them and Ed extracted his ‘giant’ tool box from the truck which impressed the two men immensely. One of the little boys took the spanner back up the ridge and within 5 minutes the car was descending towards us! It was unbelievable but two women (one carrying a baby) and another man got out to say hello and thank us. They were so sweet and we were highly amused when 3 men, 2 women, 3 boys and a baby all squashed back into the one (normal sized) car and drove away! LOL! We spent the night overlooking the blue waters of Boon Tsagaan Nur. White Gers dotted the lakes edge and the rim of mountains (from whence we came) glowed in the evening sunlight. It was a stunning place and albeit we were hidden in a small hollow wedged between the mountains and the water (totally out of sight), two young lads on a motorbike still managed to find us! We were chillaxing in the truck when loud booming music filled the air and there they appeared outside. Ed had put the steps down and so he hopped out the back and indicated for them to enter the truck and have a look inside. I was sat at the table writing when they appeared next to me. They were very polite however, and seemed extremely fascinated by the sink (all water in the majority of Mongolia is extracted from a well). On Monday 4th August we continued north back to Bayanhongor. Not far from the lake however, our track passed alongside a huge 15m sand dune (which had swallowed up another track) and so we couldn’t prevent ourselves from climbing it and marking the virgin sand with our footprints. The view over the top of it was amazing and we realised the dune was a crescent shape with a perfect ridge at the top. It was too much fun. Ed tried to push me off the edge of it (which was really steep!) before we dragged ourselves off it and continued north. By late evening we arrived once more to the town of Bayanhongor and our previous campsite by the river. It was odd to be in the same place twice as it was the first time so far (in our entire trip) that we had returned to an old camp spot. The tinkling river however, was soothing and we were exhausted. We couldn’t help but reflect on what we had seen and achieved since we were last here. We really had found the adventure we were looking for and we were so glad that we had decided to explore this one particular area of Mongolia. We had been brave and bold and on this occasion is had paid off…. We didn’t want to think about all the things that could have gone wrong… It didn’t matter now, we were back in town and back on tarmac. All that was left for us now was to spend a day washing clothes before heading north to the border and out of Mongolia….. The following day we were just about to eat a late lunch after hours of washing the dirties, when Ed spotted a young lad walking across the opposite river bank. He was carrying two rucksacks and a lute and Ed called out to him. It turned out that he was English, from Oxford and his name was Joe. He was only 22 and had been hitching his way bravely from western Mongolia back to Ulaanbataar. He was such a lovely lad we invited him to eat with us and ended up chatting all night (‘we hope we didn’t chew your ear off Joe and that you made it home safely!’). That night Joe slept in his tent outside the truck and the following morning we all shared breakfast before parting ways. We were also heading in the direction of UB but it would take us several days to get there (plus our middle seat wasn’t really appropriate for a long journey through Mongolia) and Joe needed to catch his fight home by the coming Sunday. We felt sure he would be fine (he was a capable lad) and so waved him goodbye as we left Bayanhongor heading east back on the Millennium Road. We finally arrived back in the Capital in the early hours of Saturday 9th August. It was 6am, but we knew that this was our only chance to drive into the mayhem that is UB while the roads were quiet. I desperately wanted us to visit the infamous ‘Black Market’ (don’t worry mam, it’s not illegal!) which we had missed during our last visit, and so we managed to find a spot to park not 2km from it (at 6am) and then we waited for it to open. Ed had not been warm to the idea, but because we had arrived so early in the morning, navigating the city was a breeze. Soon we were wandering the stalls and it was awesome. Everything was for sale from fruit and veg, clothes, authentic Mongolian boots, cashmere and woollen clothes, and even all the material you need to make your own Ger (felts, canvas, rope and lino!). There was definitely a ‘nomadic section’ filled with everything you might need to kit out your own horse, but sadly we couldn’t find any of the quilted coats or robes that we had seen all the local nomads sporting. Also I tried my damn hardest to get Ed to try on some of the nomadic boots but he didn’t want to! (Sorry Lucy, we didn’t buy any). We managed to wander the entire market before lunch however, and only one person tapped Ed’s pocket (for cash)… but Indianna-Eds pockets were too wiley! By the afternoon we were out of the city and heading north to the border, and by the following evening (Sunday) the Mongolian landscape which we had become accustomed to changed. Forested areas and cultivated fields appeared and some 50km from the Mongolian-Russian border we already felt like we had left Mongolia. And on the morning of Monday 11th August we did leave….. It felt like the end of something special. Mongolia was truly unforgettable and we wouldn’t have changed any of it. We felt every spectrum of emotion when we were there; blissful awe and euphoria, fear, excitement and above all satisfaction. We had made it! The TRUCK had made it…. It was a good feeling. The border crossing was ‘okay’ and took around 2 hours. On the Russian side however, there was a hairy few moments when the border guard didn’t believe that Ed’s passport belonged to him! The angle of the sun must have lightened his eyes because the border guard (a women) insisted that his eyes in the photograph were brown, but when she looked at him she could see they were much paler! Well Ed’s eyes are a moss hazely green and sadly the passport photo was tinted slightly brown anyway! As was mine! (bloody Tesco Photo Booth!!!!). Four people had to come and inspect Ed’s face and it didn’t help that in his passport he had a shaved head and face, but standing before them was a man with a giant hairy beard! We couldn’t believe how ridiculous it all was as we had passed through eight borders before then with no issue! This was our third entry into Russia! Eventually they conceded and we were allowed into Siberia! The end of the road is in sight! Lots of Love Ros & Ed. Hello (Sain Bainuu in Mongolian). We only bloody made it to Mongolia!!!!!! Sorry the blog is so late. We have struggled to find Wifi in Mongolia. Instead however, we have found the heart of the trip and dreams have become reality. Mongolia is a wonderful country. It feels like an ancient land, all weathered and old, and full of mystery and promise. Also the people are some of the most wonderful and generous we have experienced and there is so much to see and do. I for one have been really surprised. Ed I his wisdom, knew it all along, planning all the while to spend the summer in this magnificent land. So what have we been doing? Well, for the most part, trying not to get lost or stuck in the mud / sand. We really have been bold in Mongolia and thankfully luck has been on our side (as well as Ed’s highly skilled driving)… It could have gone either way however. Mongolia is not a country to mess around in and take risks. The distances between towns are huge and the land is largely remote. Also we came to realise that most of the vehicles here are small 4x4’s and very few (if any) vehicles could have rescued us if we’d got stuck. It became more and more apparent that the truck would have to be abandoned if this was such an eventuality, which was difficult to accept and definitely gave us some sleepless nights. Don’t worry though. We made it. We definitely did get stuck in the mud, but we have survived to tell the tale, and the first three weeks go something like this…….. It seems a little while ago now, but before we made it to the Mongolian border (for the crossing on the 25th June), just 50km from the border we got stuck in a salty quicksand pit, which in actuality was a good lesson learned before heading into Mongolia. We had pulled off the main tarmac road in search of a camp spot for the night. The ground looked firm and Ed swung the truck around to begin driving up an off road track to the hills where we could be out of sight of the main road. Ed put on the breaks as he realised we had hit some soft ground. When he tried to carefully reverse out of it, the right rear wheel sunk into the mud. We hopped out to check the damage and realised we had sunk almost a metre into the ground. You could step straight into the back of the truck without the ladder! It was ridiculous! We both shook our heads in disbelief as the ground all around us was firm….. Ed started digging out the back wheel and the earth underneath the large diesel tank. Luckily the ground was really soft and it didn’t take him too long. Next, we scanned the area for something to winch off, eyeing three redundant wooden telegraph poles next to the main road! We were literally only about 80m from the gleaming tarmac, so all passers-by could see us. This was slightly embarrassing, but at the same time extraordinarily useful. As Ed was getting the winch ready, a man in a silver vehicle (with two small children) approached us and got out to help. By this point, Ed had lost one of his flip flops on route to the redundant telegraph pole which were sat in a black wet bog. The nice man who had come to help, rolled up his trousers and climbed in the bog with Ed, helping him to attach the winch strops to one of the telegraph poles. All the while I was filming the action next to the truck. Ten minutes later, Ed had successfully removed all three redundant telegraph poles and the truck hadn’t budged an inch! His legs were black with bog mud and the mosquitoes had arrived to add insult to injury. The local man however had a plan, and (not speaking a word of English) he conveyed to Ed that he knew someone with a tractor, and so he got on the phone. Ed agreed a price with him first and soon after he had hopped back in his silver car, promising to return. The sun had been beaming on us all afternoon, but by now the skies were darkening dramatically and we could hear thunder rolling in the distance. It worried us a little, as if it rained, we were unlikely to escape the mud and could be stuck here for a little while longer. Almost as soon as the silver car had disappeared however, the front of a HGV arrived (called the ‘tractor unit’) and the lads driving it agreed to attempt to winch us out (again for a price; about £10 eqv.). I got filming again as Ed connected the cable to the back of their vehicle. They were attempting to pull us from the back of the truck as they were afraid of also getting stuck if they approached the boggy ground from the front. After a few tugs it appeared futile (as Ed had predicted). Subsequently as I continued filming the failing attempts, an iconic moment occurred. One that Ed will remember (and cherish) forever (remember he is obsessed with Russian Trucks). Suddenly a massive beast of Russian metal on wheels approached the scene; a six wheel drive Ural Tanker, military green and being manoeuvred by a bald Russian in military garb. What were the chances! He hopped out and Ed greeted him literally grinning from ear to ear. Within minutes lots of hammering ensued at the end of the Russian Ural (opening the toe-hitch) and soon Ed was hooked up and ready for a yank! With absolute ease, seconds later (once the Ural had engaged 6 wheel drive), the truck popped out. It was hilarious and Ed was so pleased to be rescued by such a vehicle! The Russian chap didn’t want any money. He just wanted to offer his services. Ed was still smiling days and weeks afterwards (even as I write this)…. Lol. After the Russian Rescue Mission, we finally found a quiet spot for the night (off road on hard ground) and after watching the rescue video a few times, finally settled down for the night. On Wednesday 25th June we finally crossed the border into Mongolia... a dream come true for Ed. The border crossing took about five and a half hours all told. This was mainly a result of a family of 20 people ahead of us dumping a pile of passports on the desk of the border guard moments before we got there, and because the ‘entire’ Mongolian border (every one of it’s staff!) closed for lunch for one hour from 1pm – 2pm. Also worth a mention, the Mongolian borders are shut on weekends. On the Russian side, Ed sauntered in to the Russian passport control office just as the border guard was shouting at the man with the 20 passports. As soon as Ed was spotted, the border guard actually grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and chucked him out of the office! I came to explore and more shouting occurred as we waited patiently for an hour outside the office (with a Kyrgyz overlander on a motorbike). When it was finally our turn the border guard processed our passports in silence (thankfully) and once complete he threw them across the table towards us (charming), indicating we could go on our way. There was about 20km of Russian border land before we crossed another checkpoint into no-man’s land and a further 10km to the Mongolian border where we hung around for 2 hours (due to the Mongolian lunch hour). The Mongolian side actually only took 45 minutes. And then we were in Mongolia. The land of the eternal blue sky, nomads, dirt tracks and the five snouts (horse, cow/yak, goat, sheep and camels!). After acquiring the vehicle insurance and exchanging dollars for Mongolian currency we headed to the nearest town on gravel tracks (a road in construction from the border, but far from finished). It was time to get used to this fact and embrace sand, mud and grass as our new road surfaces… At the first town near the border, we were very soon being followed by a local wearing a black leather jacket riding a red motorbike. Ed wound down the window and the (inquisitive) young man wanted to offer his services to us in the form of a guide. We chuckled at his eagerness, but kept saying no. He did however give us an important tit bit of information regarding the track we were planning to take north to a large lake called Ureg Nur. Apparently due to recent rain the road was unnavigable and two American tourists had become stuck in the mud earlier that day. We thanked him for his information, but undeterred he continued to follow us on his bike. As we attempted to evade him, heading out of town towards the Olgi road, a white Mercedes Sprinter driven by Swiss overlanders approached us, so we instantly pulled over to say hello. While we were having a conversation (through the cab window), more locals on motorbikes turned up, checking out the truck and just ‘staring’. It was all a bit odd. Being a border town, the locals were savvy to tourists it seemed. The Swiss couple (Lydia and Andre) were absolutely wonderful, so we decided to camp for the night with them (next to a lake just out of town) and subsequently spent the evening sharing tea and biscuits in the truck, and stories of the road. Lydia and Andre had already been through Russia and Mongolia and were working their way back via the Stan’s from whence we had arrived. We swapped maps, books, photos, advice and news of the roads. It was so wonderful chatting to them and they advised us on the best bits of Mongolia they had seen, helping us decide which roads (tracks) to take. The following morning Lydia and Andre invited us for coffee in their van and we whiled away another couple of hours chatting merrily. They were the friendliest most genuine people and invited us to stop over in Switzerland on our return journey to the UK, and so we could return each-others books and maps and catch up on our individual adventures. With beaming faces we waved them goodbye and began our own Mongolian adventure…. They were so sweet and hopped out of their Mercedes sprinter waving us off enthusiastically in the middle of the road. From Thursday 26th June it would take us 13 days to get to the capital Ulaanbataar via the northern roads. But what roads, what scenery. Mongolia is a special place indeed. Our diverted route on Thursday 26th June, took us to the most remarkable lake and surrounding scenery we had witnessed so far on the trip. We chuckled as we drove into the ‘nothing’ following dirt tracks that spun in all directions, sometimes ten of them running parallel with each other simulating a Mongolian super-highway. It was unnerving and exciting all at the same time. Thankfully we had a trusty GPS (Thanks Jeroen!) and fantastic mapping software, so we could record our tracks in Mongolian space and ensure we could retrace our route if we got lost! The only down-side to this amazing plan, was that the 12volt transformer in the cab which supported the car charger had frazzled and exploded in Kyrgyzstan! Subsequently we had no power supply in the cab to keep the lap top charged, so every 4 hours or so, we would have to stop and charge the laptop in the back! On the upside however, this meant more R&R stops for tea and biscuits, so we weren’t complaining too much, but when you calculate the distance covered in a 10 hour driving day and realise its only 100km, it’s a bit worrying! We got to the point where we didn’t want to care too much about that (even though we had a deadline to be in the capital by the 8th July), we just wanted to relax and soak up Mongolia. On the afternoon of Thursday 26th June, after passing through a beautiful rocky valley following the meandering River Khovd and over a rocky desert-steppe plain so remote it sent a few shivers up our spines, we arrived at a Lake called Achit Nur. White Ger’s (referred to as Yurts in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan) dotted the lakes edge and the five snouts grazed freely the green grass. Up on high, we approached the lake from a magnificent vantage point from the south-east. The lake was set within a huge bowl shaped valley surrounded (to the south) by a rim of fantastic salmon pink granite hills which had been weathered into rounded nobbly crags. We parked the truck up next to one of the granite monoliths and walked along the pink rocks looking down into the stunning valley. Layer upon layer of mountains rose beyond the lake to the north and west. To the east the sun glinted on yellow sand dunes puckered with black boulders and dark menacing rocks, and to the south-east, lush green grass shone brightly in the wonderful Mongolian light. In the centre of it all, a deep blue lake reflected the mountains, rock and sky, framed by the wonderfully weathered pink granite rocks on which were perched. It was stunningly beautiful. The evening light cast new shadows and colours and we literally sat upon the nobbly granite for hours staggered by scene below, all the while enjoying the warm Mongolian breeze on our faces. Adding even more drama, black clouds approached from the south and a wonderful rainbow appeared, followed quickly by a lightening storm. Mongolia was putting on a show for us, and we loved every minute of it taking some of the best photos of the trip. Ed insisted we sit outside drinking tea until the scenery had finally faded into darkness. So in the rain punctuated by lightening, we watched the sun set over Achit Nur. The following morning (Friday 27th June) we were greeted by a young nomad on a small brown horse. He had obviously spotted us from the Ger camps below and had led his heard of goats and sheep up to see us. He had a friendly darkly tanned face and simply stared first at Ed and then at the truck. He was especially interested in watching me put the breakfast stuff away and seemed content to linger at the door while Ed tried to communicate with him. It was impossible to guess his age. I hopped out of the truck with the polaroid and took a picture of him standing alongside Ed and his horse, passing him the photo as it developed. He seemed pleased. Ed (with hilarious hand actions) asked him if the grass was good here and whether his herd were fattening up nicely (hehe). Apparently this is one of the nicest things to ask a nomad and the young man seemed extraordinarily pleased with Ed for enquiring about us animals. A huge smile broke over his face. After our first nomadic encounter we drove around the eastern shore of the lake and then north to another slightly larger lake called Ureg Nur. The skies clouded over as we approached it, once more from a vantage point, and from the south. The road before the lake was rocky with alpine scenery of larch / coniferous forest and fresh green grass sprinkled with Edelweiss and wonderful lilac flowers similar to a daisy but much larger (we think they were Asters). The view of the milky blue waters of Ureg Nur came into view. It was serene and pretty, but the wonderful drama of Achit Nur had spoiled us. The pebbly shores of the lake were buzzing with flies, so we camped a little way up the valley looking down on the lake and were soon visited by two nomads and a small child on a motorbike. You can’t hide from anyone in Mongolia. The two men and son came to shake our hands and look at the truck (and us) with interest. Ed showed them around and we got one of our maps out indicating to them how far we had driven to get to Mongolia. They couldn’t get enough of the truck (being boys) and they all climbed inside the cab including the little 5 year old son. He had no problems climbing up the steps! - Very impressive. The father of the little boy asked us (we think) if we had any children. We shook our heads and then jokingly he passed his five year old son over to us indicating we should take him with us! It was an interesting thing to have done and we wondered if there was some seriousness behind it as perhaps he thought his son could have a better life away from this beautiful place. An easier life may, but not necessarily a better / happier one we pondered later. After a little while the motorbike mounted nomads left and we settled down for the evening. On Saturday morning we dropped down to the lake edge. It was a glorious sunny morning, so we decided to walk a little around the lake and dip our toes in the lovely cold water. There was also a lagoon and some pretty pebbly beaches along the south-eastern shore where we lingered for a while watching a rocky island within the lake covered in black cormorants and huge seagulls chatting away noisily. It suddenly felt like we were at the seaside. Ed also enjoyed himself skimming stones and looking out for fish. We spotted a few large black ones, but Ed wasn’t sure what they were. The remainder of the day was spent driving east through a tremendous grassy valley with ochre red soil covered either side with bright purple wild irises. The wonderful road dropped down steeply revealing what looked like an expansive blue sea on the horizon. As we descended further we realised we were dropping down into a flat plateau on route to our first large Mongolian town; Ulaangom. The view to the east was simply magnificent as we descended into the valley. The vastness of the land spread out for miles and miles. I don’t think my eyes have ever seen so far in my life. It was as daunting as it was awesome and we just kept drinking in the spectacular epicness that is Mongolia. A few hours east of Ulaangom (after enjoying our first short stretch of tarmac since the border) we found ourselves in a vast area of flat desert steppe, with not a soul around. It was a sticky hot evening and we trundled slowly on numerous dusty sand tracks for a few hours more, absorbing the quiet, flat and empty land. We passed the odd Ger and empty looking Corral (a pen for the 5 snouts) and wondered how anyone could survive out here. One of the largest lakes in Mongolia (Uug Nur) lay to our left (the north) somewhere, but we couldn’t see anything except endless desert-steppe and infinite blue sky. Finally after hours of rough rutted sandy tracks we pulled off onto the desert-steppe at sunset in time to watch the bright red sun finally drop below the infinite horizon. A pink glow was cast on a range of mountains to the south and it really was beautiful. An odd warm breeze buffeted the truck and the smell of worm-wood (similar to thyme but sweeter) filled our nostrils as we halted for the night. Ed absolutely loved the flat desert landscape. It was so remote, so desolate. He thought it was brilliant to spend at least one night in the ‘nothing’ contemplating our isolation. Luckily I was too tired to think about it. We had hardly seen a vehicle since Ulaangom and nothing big enough to rescue us if we got stuck. It was difficult to ward away anxious thoughts of the truck breaking down as we went to sleep. The following morning, Ed woke up at 6am and spent a little while sat outside in the sun soaking up the views. It was too early for me, but I heard him shouting through the window that he had just seen something that looked like a small ostrich walk by (possibly a Rhea). When I was finally made to move (by Ed) at 7am, we set off, taking advantage of the cooler morning air. In the heat of the day (it must have been nearly 40 degrees Celsius) we stopped for a rest and some food. Ed got his little Ukranian stove out and put up our tarpaulin, attached to the side of the truck providing much needed shade. We were soon digging in to an epic potatoe curry, finally taking in the landscape, the heat and the views. It was brilliant. My fears of the previous evening dissolved as I realised that this was why Ed wanted to come to Mongolia. To experience these landscapes, this remoteness all to ourselves was special indeed. Plus the desert-lunch camp looked awesome. And suddenly, before our eyes, the desert-steppe came to life. Very soon we were joined by about nine huge eagles sat in a semi-circle around us some 50m distant spaced about 20m apart as we ate our lunch. Perhaps we were interesting to them because we provided a ‘feature’ in the endless nothing. Either way, we had a great view of them and eyed them as closely as they eyed us. As well as the eagle’s interest, the shade we were providing in the desert heat seemed to attract strange insects and butterflies. A very odd ‘massive’ cricket kept crawling towards me. It was perfectly camouflaged, coloured beige with flecks of dark brown and about 7cm long with a fat body and very large curved upright tail. Even more exotic, were bigger lime green crickets with black and red wings that flew around us sporadically making disturbingly loud clicking noises before zooming down into their burrows. They were the same size as a small bird in flight and I let out a girlie scream when one of them clicked suddenly towards me. The eagles were after the flying clicking things, and we watched them aerobatic their way to lunch while we tucked into to our potatoe curry. It was quite an awesome desert camp (see pictures). Plus Ed’s giant hairy beard and hat makes him look like Indianna-Ed – the real adventurer. Hehe. We finally left our desert camp and continued east. With some relief (my own) the flat desert scape eventually gave way to small soft golden sand dunes at the base of rolling grass covered hills. We passed a pretty meandering stream and the water’s edge was covered in Demoiselle Cranes. They are stunning creatures; a similar shape to an ostrich but much smaller, grey in colour and with a long mane (beard) of black hair-like feathers running down the underside of their necks. Very odd, but amazing at the same time. We had seen a few in Kazakhstan as well. They are usually always a pair (husband and wife) and lots of these ones had little babies as well. By the evening we were in a wide grassy valley (in parts cultivated) with pointy green carpeted mountains on either side. We stopped for the night on the top of a hill overlooking endless folds of soft grassy steppe, capped with ancient weathered rocky crags. Wonderful layered sand dunes lay to the north illuminated by the evening sunlight (which very oddly had trees growing out of them) and it was staggeringly beautiful. The scale of the landscape was incredible and only slightly elevated on a hill, we could see for miles and miles in all directions. A mild breeze jostled wild flowers in the long grass outside the truck and Ed once more sat on alone on a rocky crag admiring the view. I watched him from the truck window and my heart glowed for him. We were both very happy. On Monday 30th June we passed more rolling hills, this time forested with larch (on the north-facing slopes only) before stopping at a pretty stream for lunch where we spent some time washing our clothes and filling up the water tank. Amusingly, a mini-bus full of locals stopped to say hello. They seemed fascinated by our presence, all the while giggling at us…. All very odd (I blame the beard). That evening another rainstorm swept in and we spent the night on the slope of a grassy mountain surrounded by grazing horses. The following morning (Tuesday 1st July), first and foremost, we couldn’t believe it was July (!!!) we continued east. After about 30 minutes on the road we bumped into an overlander. He was an Australian called Mick and he had ridden all the way to Mongolia from Australia on a motorbike. He had a giant grey bushy beard and a friendly face. We stopped to chat to him and learned he had been bogged down in the mud earlier in the morning (so he was a bit grumpy). The overnight rain had left deep puddles and muddy tracks. None of it a match for the truck however. By lunchtime we ascended into the Mongolian landscape Ed had been dreaming of for more than 17 years. The infamous grassy-steppe where the land rolled on and on for miles in all directions covered in bright green grass and beautiful wild flowers. The weathered rounded hills ambled away to the horizon and we couldn’t resist stopping for a little while to enjoy it. It was different from the other grassy scenery we had so far experienced in Mongolia, because the rocky crags and triangular mountains had now disappeared, replaced by an endless softness of green. We got our damp washing out from the previous day and made a line with some poles, using the side of the truck for support and then enjoyed an epic lunch of ham, egg and chips on our deck chairs in the Mongolian sunshine. Although we were really quite isolated, the land had a friendly calm sereneness about it. Here we were and we had it all to ourselves. It was a special moment for Ed as he had been dreaming about this landscape for 17 years. Aged 15 (and unwell at the time) he had scoured over fly-fishing magazines illustrating the Mongolian Steppe, all the while dreaming of visiting this remote land. And here he was. He had made it. Confronted with reality, Ed had a powerful sense of achievement. It meant so much to be here and I was so very proud of him, as I am sure all of his friends and family are back at home. He has worked unbelievably hard, tooth and nail to get here. His life has taken so many twists and turns since that young lad of 15, but his path had always been true. Seventeen years of dreaming and battling illness, seven years of hard graft at RAW and over four years of working on the truck at weekends (with an annoying welsh girl occasionally complaining at him to spend more time with her…..) has finally led him here. Ed never gave up on his dream which has finally culminated in two people staring at the epic Steppe, pondering life, happiness, the past and the future. Eventually (after scoffing ham, egg and chips and filming ourselves eating! Lol!), we hopped back into the truck and continued to amble on grass covered tracks through endless soft green undulating valleys. Occasionally craggy weathered granite would crown the tops of the rounded hills and that evening we ascended to one of the crags. It was probably one of the steepest ascents the truck had managed to date and we ended up spending the night on top of a precipice alongside a craggy granite rock formation that looked like dinosaurs teeth rising out of the steppe. Before we settled down for the night we climbed to the top of the granite crag and enjoyed the evening sunshine looking down into the endless green, feeling quite content and happy with life. On Wednesday morning (2nd July) I filmed the trucks epic descent of the steep hill (which didn’t look as frightening as it probably felt for Ed in the cab!). Continuing through more grassy-steppe we finally descended into a small village where a camel was parked outside a house, all packed up and ready to go on a trip it seemed. We took a left opposite the camel taking a track not even mapped on our GPS, in the hopes to take a shorter route to a large lake we were heading to, called Lake Khovsgol. It turned out however, that the track ended at a wide and beautiful river. Due to the rain the previous night, the river was too deep for us to drive across. To Ed’s delight however, it was an absolutely stunning fishing river. The weather and location was too pretty to waste, so I got my deck chair out and Ed his fly-rod, for a spot of fishing. A gusty wind blew down the valley, but this didn’t prevent Ed catching a small Taimen (trout-like fish) within 5 minutes. Ed fishes with un-barbed hooks (much friendlier and eco-conscious), so after saying hello to the little beastie (and without touching him) Ed released the hook and the pretty little fish swam away. I filmed him casting into the water enjoying himself. He really does look like Indianna-Ed (see pictures). After an hour of catching little Taimen tiddlers (and returning them to the river unscathed) we left the banks of the beautiful river and returned to the village where the loaded camel was still patiently waiting for his master. We continued on a ‘mapped’ track which took up a steep hill of grassy steppe before descending into a marvellous pink granite valley where the same river (we had enjoyed earlier) meandered through the centre. The river was lined with pretty trees (possibly mulberry) and so we stopped for lunch on the grassy leafy banks enjoying the shade. Later that evening, the sun still shone brightly on the horizon as we finally made it to a town called Moron, from which we would drive north to Lake Khovsgol in search of potential moose, bear and wolves. This most northerly area of Mongolia is the transition zone between the Siberian Taiga and the grassy steppe. We had heard good reviews with regards to the lake from Mike (the Australian) and Lydia and Andre (the wonderful Swiss couple we met near the border) so we thought we couldn’t miss it, even though we were in a bit of a rush to get to the capital (Ulaanbaatar) by the 8th July. We spent the night north of Moron some 25km south of Khovsgol at a sulphurous smelling lake, arriving just at sunset. The road from Moron to Khatgal was pristine tarmac, something we hadn’t witnessed since Ulaangom. The following day we arrived at the lake (via a short stop in Khatgal) and made for the eastern shore via a river crossing (our deepest to date) deciding to avoid the more touristy western shore. The track to the lake was horrendous and it took us about 3.5hrs to drive 40km, finally settling on a scenic spot on the edge of a forest facing the lake and surrounded by grazing yak, goats and sheep. The weather was spotting rain, the air decidedly cool and it felt very British…. A feeling we weren’t expecting to experience in Mongolia! On 4th July we walked the shore of the lake which was covered in beautiful grey driftwood before heading into the forest. It was a beautiful forest. The grass along the lake shore was littered with wild flowers and even the forest floor was carpeted in them where the sun glimmered through. We had some fun following some animal tracks (and dung) hoping they were moose, but secretly Ed was sure they were Yak. The edge of the forest was the best place to pick wild flowers including a wonderful flame orange flower that we didn’t know the name of. I picked a huge bunch and we put them in a vase in the truck. Khovsgol was lovely but we couldn’t help feeling like we were back in the UK! The beautiful forest and flowers however, were stunning. We thought perhaps we felt some disappointment to be somewhere ‘so British-like’ and familiar when we had followed such a tough track to get there. Simply all the previous Mongolian scenery we had witnessed had spoiled us rotten! On 5th July we waved goodbye to the flowers and the Yak and headed south once more to Moron. Ed took the truck through the gushing river for the second time (near the main town of Khatgal) avoiding a dodgy looking 7.5tonne wooden bridge. I jumped out to film it and we spent a couple of hours having breakfast by the river and washing clothes. About 20km from Moron however, disaster struck. Ed could no longer change gear and we thought the clutch had gone on the truck…... It was too terrible to contemplate. We spent an hour trying to get to the root of the problem, me pumping the clutch while Ed bled the oil from various places. Finally, our efforts were rewarded and the clutch behaved normally, allowing us to arrive once more to the town of Moron by early evening. Coincidentally Ed’s mum, sister and niece (Rosie, Lucy and Annabelle) were also about to land in Moron as well! Ed had heard from his mum earlier that morning. They had flown out to UB a few days previous and were also now (previously unbeknown to us) heading up to Khovsgol. We were supposed to be meeting them in UB on the 8th July and were totally unaware that they would be coming to Moron. We had also hoped to get more miles under our belt, but the truck had had other ideas. We knew where Rosie, Lucy and Annabelle were planning to have dinner (after a text from Rosie) so we thought we would surprise them. We parked the truck in Moron, cleaned ourselves up and then waited for them in the hotel reception. Their faces were a picture when they arrived!, and we chuckled as fate seemed intent on us meeting them early it seemed. That evening, they drove north to the lake and we spent the night just outside Moron near a collection of deer stones (intricately carved monoliths 1000BC), which we found with the help of Rosie’s guide (Odka). The following morning (Sunday 6th July) we enjoyed the 14 wonderful stones. They are called deer stones because the majority of the carvings are of stylised deer, but they are supposed to represent warriors of the day. The carvings include a belt bearing the warriors weapons and one of the stones even had a face. They were amazing and equally amazing was the local looking after them who gave us a lovely welcome and fond farewell when we left. It rained all day on Sunday 6th July….. and the clutch gave up again. In the pouring rain, Ed drained the remaining contaminated clutch fluid to resolve the problem once and for all. Although Ed had checked the levels of clutch fluid before we left it was the only fluid he hadn’t completely changed as the oil appeared new in the reservoir back in the UK (it even said all fluids replaced in the book!). When draining it, it was almost black and contaminated with water so when everything got hot it became impossible to disengage the clutch. After a quick check through the instruction manual, the fluid was changed and the clutch was restored to full function hopefully without any lasting damage…… The track to Bulgan (our next destination on route to UB) was tarmac (from Moron) for the first 60km or so. The remainder of the day was spent smashing through mud filled puddles, sliding down bankings and winching out locals stuck in the mud. It got to the point where we were the only vehicle on the road, the truck (and Ed’s superb driving) managing the quagmire of a track well. We kept passing Ger-road stops absolutely crammed with vehicles as everyone had given up driving. We however, soldiered on until dusk and a fleece truck (we had passed earlier) also made it as far as we did and joined us on a dry patch of grass for the night. Ed loved the mud, rescuing locals and splashing the truck into the puddles. I was just glad we weren’t stuck! It was so slippery at times that the entire 10 tonnes of truck was slipping freely, Ed having far too much fun, spinning us 90 degrees, sliding around all over the place like he used to as a small boy (when destroying field cars). Thankfully the following morning we woke to wonderful sunshine and finally made it to Bulgan where we expected (hoped and crossed our fingers!) that the track would convert to wonderful tarmac to enable us to make it to UB in time (we didn’t really want tarmac). This time however, we had some friends as the fleece truck that spent the night alongside us wanted to travel in convoy with us to Bulgan. The loaded vehicle was about 16 tonne! It was a whopper and packed to the rafters with sheep fleeces. It was a probably one of the few vehicles we had seen that would be able to pull us out if we got stuck, and so we happily joined them in convoy (two local men and a lady). The carnage of the previous day continued and soon we were pulling out a Chinese HGV and the two fleece lads were generously helping with our winch. Similarly, we pulled the fleece truck up a steep banking allowing us to get onto a partially constructed road and a breather from mud. Finally we arrived in Bulgan and as we had hoped, we were greeted by tarmac! We quickly found a river where Ed decided to give the ridiculously muddy truck a wash, destroying all evidence of our last 20 hours or so off extreme off-roading. The fleece truck came to join us and we showed the two lads around the truck before thanking them and waving goodbye. That evening we drove and drove, completing a 14hour driving day, stopping for the night some 170km north of UB. It looked like we had nearly made it thanks to the presence of pristine tarmac from Bulgan to the next town (Erdenet). The tarmac disintegrated however, into a potholed horror road once we turned south from Darkhan to UB. On the 8th July at 2pm, we made it on time to UB, parking the truck (finally) in a locked compound, which turned out to be a train shunting yard. We arrived at the Best Western (Tuushin) Hotel around 4.30pm and collapsed in a heap! From 9th to 16th July we were scheduled to explore the south Gobi with Ed’s mum, sister and 6yr old niece Annabelle, flying south to Dalanzadgad…. And what a week we had. We travelled initially in two Toyota Land Cruisers driven by local Gobi men Boggy and Moggy with our wonderful guide and translator Nara. She was absolutely lovely. The first three nights were spent at three different Ger camps, each time heading west into the remote Gobi. We visited a beautiful volcanic gorge (Yolyn Am) with a glacier at its base (yes, ice in the Gobi!!), the famous ‘Flaming Cliffs’; an amazing red sandstone canyon famous for dinosaur fossil finds in the 1920’s (notably dinosaur eggs) and one of my favourite moments, we camel trekked to Mongolia’s largest sand dunes (Kongoryn Els) before hiking up the highest 200m sand dune. The view at the top was utterly spectacular and even little 6 year old Annabelle made it to the top. When it was finally time to descend it, I slid the entire 200m on my bottom! Epic. At the Flaming Cliffs (Bayanzag) I actually found (with luck) fragments of dinosaur egg shell, later confirmed (over the dinner) by our Palaeontologist who had arrived to join our group as we travelled west to more dinosaur sights. It was too exciting to contemplate, as no one had found anything at the fossil site for years! The nights of the 12th, 13th and 14th July were spent camping in the Gobi desert, initially at an amazing sandstone canyon (Nemegt) where we hunted for more fossils. The entire experience was something out of an Indiana Jones film, as by the time of our desert camping we were now a convoy of three Toyota Land Cruisers (with three local drivers), a cook, palaeontologist and our wonderful guide and translator (Nara). The entire experience was so out of this world (a real adventure) and I would like to thank Rosie for making it possible. It really was unbelievable. After Nemegt (where we found loads of dinosaur fossils!) we drove further west, and were taken to a site famous for fossilised turtles and more dinosaurs (Galimimus). This was followed by heading into the remote western area of the Aimag to a stunning and extensive sandstone canyon called Khermen Tsav where we experienced 50 degree heat and later an epic sandstorm! We were also taken to a wonderful oasis where we soaked our feet in the cool(ish) waters! Our third night camping was spent next to a spring, pitched on fresh springy grass (yes in the desert) and spending the evening listening to our Mongolian party singing old nomadic songs. It was both moving and enchanting and sadly, I was forced to take one for the team (and sing a song or two as well!) settling with the Welsh National Anthem (don’t laugh!) and Annie’s Song. Luckily there was vodka involved and it was dark! All in all, a memorable experience. As well as all the scenery and fossil sights, we were also treated to personal experiences with several nomadic families, the first being the family who rented us the camels at Khongoryn Els. They invited us inside their wonderfully decorated Ger and offered us tea (hot camel milk), homemade curd and fermented mares milk to try. Similarly, we were also taken to visit Boggy’s sister’s family (one of our drivers). On two occasions, they invited us in, first for a wonderful lunch, and on our return visit for sheep/goat testicles! We were beckoned over to watch some of the goats (and one sheep) being castrated… It sounds awful, but it happens so quickly. It was mesmerising to watch and there was no blood, so even little Annabelle experienced it without flinching. For Ed however (being a man) he was taken away into another Ger with the boys to eat a raw testicle which involved gnawing at the end for a minute or two (to get access to the contents) and squeezing out the insides into your mouth. Ming….. The rest of us had ours boiled with barley. It was surprisingly soft and when you cut into it, had the texture of pate. It tasted like the dark meat on a chicken leg, so actually wasn’t too bad (oh and Ed had to eat that too!). Our final night in the Gobi was spent revisiting the Ger camp at Kongoryn Els, before heading east the following day to the airport via a beautiful volcanic gorge and an invitation to Boggy’s (one of our drivers) own house for dumplings. We truly had a marvellous time and having Nara (our translator) allowed us to learn so much about Mongolia and its people. Thank you so much Nara if you are reading this. You are a special lady and without you, the trip would not have been such a glorious success. On 17th July (Thursday) we were back in UB and did a little shopping (accompanied by Nara and her lovely daughter) before returning to the truck. It was fantastic to see it, sitting there. Nothing bad had befallen it and we were so pleased to be re-united with our home and friend. We also managed to extend our visa another 30 days (with the help of Nara). We love Mongolia….. It really is a special place. It feels very safe, it is beautiful, exciting and the local people really are truly amazing. Just leaving UB everyone waved at us, and not far from the city we have been visited by local nomads with gifts of milk and pancakes! The remoteness and general lack of roads makes you absorb every inch of the landscape and there really is SO MUCH to see and do here. Six months wouldn’t be enough time. The plan for the remainder of our Mongolian adventure was to head west to Bayanhongor Aimag and that is where we have been for the last few weeks. This section of the Blog is slightly out of date now. As I write this we are in Siberia. We crossed the border back into Russia on 11th August. Unfortunately I have lost my mobile and Ed's phone hasn't been working either. We are currently in the t own of Chita (in a hotel) and we hope to buy a new dongle tomorrow as that's not working either! I'll update the last 3 weeks of Mongolia once we get the dongle! We are missing everyone at home and hope to skype soon. Lots of Love. Ros & Ed. xxxx |
AuthorRos: Both Ed and I will be updating the diary blog as much as possible! WTS. Archives
September 2014
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