19/4/97

Was woken up at 6 am by someone pounding on the door. Opened it to find an obviously annoyed senior security guard and my benefactor of the previous night looking a little sheepish. The former gave me an unmissable signal to get out, and as I didn't want to get anyone into trouble, I hurried to obey. Managed to thank my friend though, and settled down to wait for Dalandzadgad to come up on the departure screens. The flight was due to leave at 0820, but even only an hour before it still wasn't listed with all the others. My security guard came to my rescue again, and took me to the unlabeled gate where it was apparently leaving. I wish I could have known the Mongolian to do justice to all he had done for me, but I had to just settle for thank you and a handshake.

Inside the security checks, there's a fairly large departure lounge, with a fair haired foreigner sitting at one of the tables. It turned out that he was American, and teaching English in Bayan-Olgi. I asked why he had come to Mongolia to teach, and he replied that it was an honour as a Lamaisist to do so. Apparently, he had converted while at college, met the Delai Lama, and decided to spend some time here. I'm not going to say anything else about him either!

After he had left, a Mongolian girl arrived and asked me if I was British. I was a little suspicious at first, but it soon transpired that this one wasn't after my hand in marriage, just my fluency in my native tongue. As a second year English student, she needed the practice. Conveniently, she was going to Dalandzadgad too, to visit her married sister there. She kept on asking me about Shakespeare, but sadly English Lit O-level is a long time ago, and I just had to admit she was better read than I. About ten minutes before the flight was supposed to leave, there was an announcement in Mongolian on the tannoy. The direct translation was apparently that bad weather would delay takeoff. I asked her if that was really true given all that sunshine, and she smiled and said "the pilot must be late!". Well, so long as that isn't code for "pissed".

Eventually, we were shepherded to a bus, which set off towards three Antonov's on the apron- and came to rest in front of the single cargo variant! I looked at Uti to see if this was normal, but she just looked worried. After grabbing our luggage and throwing it in through the side door, the pilot spread some webbing over the rear ramp and we scrambled aboard. About three quarters of us got fold down seats along the sides of the fuselage, and the rest sat on the floor. I was half expecting a goat and a brace of sheep to be loaded on, but had to settle for a couple of kittens. Uti was sitting opposite me looking rather worried, so I grinned and pretended to be enjoying myself. I really shouldn't do that, it seems to make people more nervous, not less! She was sitting next to an Army officer and his family, so I mimed hooking up to the static line running above our seats to him- he roared with laughter.

I suspected that it would get rather cold once we were up at altitude, but we were so jammed up together that it wasn't possible, so I fell into a routine of nodding knowledgeably at the grandma at my left, while trying to ignore the little boy plucking at my right arm. An hour or so passed, then we started a descent to a fairly smooth landing, given that it was a grass strip. My first view of the Gobi was suitably bleak, but I felt I had better get a jeep sorted out, as I was keen to get a trip or two in. As it turned out Uti's brother-in-law had his own GAZ jeep, and I negotiated a trip for tomorrow to Bayanzag (Flaming Cliffs, where a major dinosaur find was made in the 1920's). I tried to ignore the fact that he smelt strongly of vodka; after all, how much oncoming traffic is there in the Gobi?

There are two hotels in town, both opposite each other. I picked the one on the left, and had a terrible time trying to pay for a room in Togrog. Uti offered to help me negotiate, and eventually we beat the old crone down to only half in dollars, which was definitely favouring her all the same. At one heated point in the discussion, she pointed to my passport photo and haughtily stated that my eyes were smiling there, but they weren't now. I snapped back that I wasn't in the process of being ripped off by a half built heap of a hotel at the time. Uti smiled, but wisely didn't translate!

The town itself had very little to see- post office, two hotels, a market (mainly selling meat that I had no way of cooking), a restaurant that was shut for the weekend, and a bank, whose manager actually spoke some English and seemed helpful. She wasn't able to cash travellers' cheques though; contrary to what the Lonely Planet guide says about unhelpful officials, this was because she doesn't know what they are! After this, there was only one thing to do; go to sleep for the rest of the day: I was tired. I was woken up at 5 pm by the sound of someone knocking at the door. Must be one of the hotel staff I thought, doubtless ever ready to divest me of my passport. Wrong- it was the bank manager, and she was inviting me to dinner for the evening! I went over to her apartment building which, in contrast with the hotel, was very well heated by a Soviet style centralized heating system which pumped hot water from a central town heating plant. Ogderel and her husband had three children (1 boy, 2 girls), and after a meal of boiled mutton, they all took turns to stare at me in wonder; it's quite disconcerting! Once I got back, I sadly discovered that since I was the only guest in a forty bed hotel, no-one was going to turn the heating on.

Dalndzadgad with Gov-Altai in background	Kids in Dalandzadgad's ger outskirts

20/4/97

I had thought myself well prepared for an expedition in the Gobi- four litres of water, survival gear, GPS etc. It was rather embarrassing to have the jeep roar up with the driver dressed only in jeans and a T-shirt. I did feel reassured in that the vodka drinking brother-in-law wasn't driving, but had sent his assistant instead.

Driving in the Gobi looks easy, with flat desert stretching for miles in every direction, but in practice your speed can't rise above 50 km/h as dried up stream beds dot the desert. These are a) lower than the surroundings and b) made of soft sand. If you don't spot them in time, you'll dig the jeep in on it's nose, and go straight through the windscreen. The desert itself is covered with a scattered layer of grass, but life for the herds of sheep and beef cattle must be problematic. The local gazelles are there in numbers, but bound away at over 60 km/h, so photos were impossible. After 30k or so, we hit the official tourist camp; a normal hotel with a few gers around it, hardly a "real Gobi experience". We spotted the genuine article another 20k further on, but just as I was thinking of stopping, a massive dog bounded out of the ger and chased us for the next quarter mile. It was about a metre high- I jest not. I had been told that the accepted procedure was to shout "norkoi khor" (tether your dog) on approaching a ger, but with monsters like that guarding them, I think Iron Maiden's PA system would be necessary to have a chance of getting near with all your limbs still attached.

About 90k out of Dalandzadgad, I got my first sight of Bayanzag. Think Badlands and you've got the idea of the place, red earth sculptures everywhere. Both places are known for dinosaur bones, but despite diligent searching on my part I couldn't find so much as a line of graffiti saying "T-rex woz 'ere". The desolation was impressive, but I'm glad I never had to go there to dig! The way back, was broken by a stop by some sand dunes; fairly rare in this neck of the woods. As soon as I got back to town, I arranged to go to Yolyn Am (a large mountain valley in the nearby Gov-Altai mountain range) the next day, then went off to see the local museum. It's director looked fairly surprised to see someone, but proved to be very enthusiastic about his exhibits, which ranged from geographical data to revolutionary pictures- the fact that I recognized a picture of Sudabaatar (initial leader of the Mongolian rebels in the twenties) went down very well with him. As soon as I was back at the hotel, my friendly bank manager appeared and invited me to dinner again. She's really making up for not being able to cash those travellers cheques! I can't say I'm not grateful, and I don't mind giving English lessons afterwards either. She rather surprised me by revealing that there are six Americans in Dalandzadgad teaching English, a family with three children and "a 27 year old girl who is not married". All this and she's trying to set me up too! Anyway, we're both invited to her place tomorrow night.

Tracks in the Gobi	Bayanzag; no T-rex now

21/4/97

As usual, I'm woken up by the radio in the deserted room next door. Mongolia has broadcast stations now, mainly playing early nineties pop, but the old Soviet system of radios that can only receive one station from a socket in the wall is still there. The music seems rather dreary even today, but I suppose that it stopped the proletariat from listening to all those evil capitalists on the BBC; ho, ho ho!

The ride to Yolyn Am was fairly quick, at only 45 k away. As the valley narrows as you climb into the Gov-Altai mountain range there's a couple of caravans with "South Gobi Souvenirs" written on them, plus a small building housing a museum full of stuffed animals, including a couple of snow leopards. Anyway, after a look round we continued up the valley as it progressively narrowed. I could see herds of mountain goats hopping around the cliffs above us, while dozens of what looked like guinea pigs hopped in and out of holes in the valley floor. After climbing to a ridge we passed under a sign in Mongol, then descended to the end of the road about a kilometre further on, got out and started walking.

We quickly came to a large frozen lake which led into a deceptively small gorge, which then opened up into a frozen river. This twisted and turned for about 4k, all the while dropping over a series of frozen waterfalls. After the river opened up into a large valley we turned back, but the whole area was extremely striking; and the gorge walls made for great toboggan runs- just bear in mind that frozen ice makes the final part a little painful! All in all, definitely the best scenery since Lake Baikal, and better to see than Bayanzag, if you're pushed for time and/or money.

The way back being uneventful, I settled for another exploration of the town, this time spending more time in the market. The locals are friendlier here than in UB (certainly the bank managers!), the only obvious reason for the place existing was the large military base; though I don't expect that it would stop the Chinese for long. Perhaps the large bronze camel in the square would stun them back over the border.

I was supposed to go to Ogderel's for seven, but since the single restaurant in the whole town was now open, I thought I would go double rations for once. Despite the scruffy exterior, inside was a passable disco with bar, and the food (mutton and vegetables) was actually rather nice, and only a dollar a meal. The menu consisted of only that meal though! Walking back to the hotel to brave the ice water shower, I came across the ultimate photo opportunity. Ogderel was coming back from the market, carrying her shopping in a British Safeways carrier bag! Just imagine the contrast; Gobi desert, the supermarket back home. Sadly, I couldn't persuade her to let me take a picture. An hour later, I turned up at the flat, where Ogderel was obviously hopping from one foot to another in anticipation; OK, I'm joking! The American was a Tonya Walker, who had volunteered for a two year stint out here which she was financing herself, though she was able to charge those of the locals who could pay for their English lessons a little to live off. Luckily she wasn't another religious nut, but had come here after a small career crisis; she'd spent four years at college doing Counselling for a degree. I think I would have hung myself, so her reaction in going to a windswept desert 10000k from home seemed rather reasonable! She gave the impression of being very self-contained, but was full of all sorts of interesting information about the town. This was often acquired from her pupils, who included the local Border Police chief, and yes, there are two border crossing points into China (ideally I would have tried to cross one of them in order to follow Slavomir Rawicz's route through the area). I think that Ogderel will need to introduce her to someone different to get her married off though!

Entering Yolyn Am	The valley closes in
Frozen lake	Frozen waterfall