Last updated 10 months ago by Jessica Brooks | Published: November 2, 2020
In each of the Mongolia experience we offer, we conduct our own research, drive the distances, engage with local communities, build contacts, and design and run the entire experience ourselves. We do not source our itineraries from other agents, nor do we rely on other agents to run our tour experiences. This is why we undertake our own research expeditions in Mongolia, and occasionally, we invite international guests to join us—we call them our Wild Research Trips. One such experience was when we were initially exploring the hinterland of Zavkhan and Uvs Provinces in western Mongolia. These are some quick notes that I recently found that I wrote whilst the Mongolian road
We camped for two nights at the foot of Otgon Tenger, Mongolia’s most sacred mountain and the highest peak in the central Khangai Range, standing at 4021 meters. With its permanent snow-capped summit, Otgon Tenger is considered the mystical abode of Ochirvan, the fierce, dark blue protective deity of the Buddhist religion. Traditional Mongolian beliefs hold that wrathful deities inhabit many of Mongolia’s sacred mountains.
We met the local ranger and were shocked to learn about a plague of voles currently decimating the pastures, severely impacting the grazing for the herders’ livestock. This situation made us acutely aware of the herders’ vulnerability, not only due to the region’s remote nature but also because of the significant impact climate change is having on their way of life.
Traveling on dust roads through weathered landscapes, we encountered marmot hunters near the 2702-meter (to be precise) Senjit Davaa pass, scarecrows (manuukhai) guarding gers, and mounds of argal (dung) drying for winter fuel in the treeless terrain. Along the way, we glimpsed black-tailed gazelles, embodying the wild beauty of Mongolia.
In Uliastai, we stayed at a terrible hotel (and I can usually find something positive about local hotels, even the less-than-ideal ones, so you can imagine how bad it was). The standout features of this hotel included a flushing toilet that didn’t flush (with a metal bowl provided as an alternative), a shower cubicle that tipped over almost onto your head, and electric sockets pulled out of the wall. Despite the less-than-perfect night’s sleep, the fantastic lunch we had at the Crystal Restaurant more than made up for it. The place was filled with local office workers and came highly recommended by the local meat shop.
Khar Nuur, a freshwater lake surrounded by the Bor Khyarin sand dunes in Zavkhan Aimag, is a remarkable region. It connects the Gobi Desert in the south with the western Khangai Mountain Range and the Great Lakes Depression in the northwest, offering unexpectedly beautiful and off-the-beaten-path experiences. We spent two days exploring—one on foot and one by vehicle. While we plan to include this area in future itineraries where suitable, we are immediately concerned about the impact of tourism on the area. As drone photography and social media spread the word about the diversity of Mongolia, more companies will undoubtedly include Khar Nuur in their itineraries. It raises an important question: how can we, as members of the tourism industry in Mongolia, work together to ensure that its fragile landscapes are not negatively impacted?
Our journey took us to small-town communities like Urgamal, where we enjoyed freshly made steamed dumplings and hot tea. In Erdenekhairkhan, an unmarked dot on the map, we stayed in a local hotel where most of the beds had been taken to the hospital for elderly residents resting before winter. Despite the basic facilities (Ross and John got makeshift beds, while Turuu and I slept on the floor), the stove was lit to take the chill off the room and the level of care we received, even with such limited resources, could not have been kinder, creating yet another memorable Mongolian experience.
Turuu preparing dinner in Erdenekhairkhan
Khyargas Nuur, deep within Uvs Aimag and part of the Great Lakes Depression, was one of our campsites. Although our campsite along the lakeshore felt like a deserted beach resort, the wide-stretching horizon, the haunting sounds of ‘Urtiin Duu’ (Mongolian long song) on the van radio, and the stunning sunset made it special. We enjoyed a warm campfire, delicious mutton bones, and priceless acts of friendship, including a bottle of Mongolian vodka shared on a cold, windblown night.
Friends! Turuu and Basraa
Travelling through Mongolia is about more than just reaching your destination; it’s about embracing the journey, the landscapes, the people who call them home, and the moments of reflection along the way. If you would like to journey with us, take a look at the range of experiences we offer.
Jess @ Eternal Landscapes