Mongolia’s Dark Skies

Darkness is something we increasingly have to seek out.

Light pollution affects far more than our ability to see stars. Artificial light at night can disrupt wildlife and ecosystems, which is why organisations such as DarkSky International encourage us to think about how much light we really need.

Tourism has a role in this as well. A remote location doesn’t automatically remain dark if accommodation, camps and other tourism infrastructure introduce unnecessary outdoor lighting.

Sometimes the simplest thing we can do is turn the lights off.

If you’re curious about just how dark much of Mongolia remains, have a look at the Light Pollution Map. The contrast between Ulaanbaatar and the vast areas beyond it is striking.

Leaving Ulaanbaatar Behind

Ulaanbaatar is different.

Around half of Mongolia’s population lives in the capital, so naturally there is considerably more artificial light. In winter, the night sky can also be obscured by the city’s serious air pollution.

Coal and other solid-fuel burning for heating remains an important contributor to winter air pollution, particularly in Ulaanbaatar’s ger districts, while cold temperatures and weather conditions can trap pollution over the city.

It is an important part of contemporary Mongolia rather than something I think we should gloss over when writing about pristine landscapes and clear skies. Breathe Mongolia – Clean Air Coalition is one organisation working to raise awareness and push for cleaner air.

But travel even a relatively short distance beyond the city and things begin to change.

And further into the countryside, they change completely.

When Is The Best Time For Stargazing In Mongolia?

There isn’t really a guaranteed stargazing season because Mongolia’s weather doesn’t pay much attention to travel plans.

You can carefully choose your dates and still end up with cloud, rain, snow or a windstorm just when you’re hoping to spend the evening looking upwards.

The moon makes a difference too. Around a new moon, with less moonlight washing out the stars, the sky can be extraordinary.

Winter often brings some of the clearest skies I’ve experienced in Mongolia. The downside is obvious: standing outside admiring them at -30°C takes commitment.

Autumn is a rather more comfortable compromise.

Whatever the season, bring warm layers. Even summer nights can become surprisingly cold, particularly at altitude or in the Gobi.

And then wait for the clouds to cooperate.

Learning The Mongolian Night Sky

Part of the pleasure is learning that the sky above you isn’t simply a collection of familiar constellations with familiar European names.

Mongolia has its own names, stories and traditions connected with the stars.

• Look for Altan Gadas — the North Star or Polar Star. Its name translates roughly as the Golden Stake, an especially appropriate image in a culture where tethering animals to a stake has long been part of everyday life.
• Then there is Doloon Burkhan — the Seven Gods — the seven bright stars we know as the Plough or Big Dipper.
• Michid is the Mongolian name associated with the Pleiades, while the great band across the sky that we call the Milky Way is Tengeriin Zaadas — sometimes translated as the seam or division of the sky.
• And before sunrise you may see Uuriin Tsolmon, the Morning Star.

You don’t need to know any of the names, of course. There is something quite satisfying about simply lying back and looking.

But learning a few of them changes the sky slightly. You start looking at it through another set of stories.

A Word About Shooting Stars

And then there are shooting stars.

I learned fairly early on in Mongolia that enthusiastically pointing one out isn’t necessarily the thing to do.

I was standing outside one night when I spotted one and pointed towards it, only to hear Turuu beside me spit.

That needed an explanation.

Traditionally, a shooting star can be regarded as an omen of death. One explanation, associated with Mongolian shamanic belief, is that a star represents a person and its fall represents that person’s life coming to an end. On seeing one, some Mongolians will spit and say, essentially, it’s not mine.

So much for my romantic moment under the stars.

It is one of those small cultural lessons that has stayed with me. We can stand beneath exactly the same night sky and yet understand what we’re seeing in completely different ways.

Khurel Togoot Astronomical Observatory

For something more organised, there is also Khurel Togoot Astronomical Observatory (try saying that after a cup of Mongolian yak milk vodka), on Bogd Khan Mountain outside Ulaanbaatar.

Established in 1957, it remains part of Mongolia’s Institute of Astronomy and Geophysics and is still an active astronomical research site.

I’ve visited and it remains one of my favourite slightly unexpected experiences close to Ulaanbaatar.

However, I wouldn’t build an entire Mongolia itinerary around a visit. Public access can be sporadic and, however carefully everything is organised, nobody can organise a clear sky.

A few commercial ger camps around Mongolia also have telescopes, although for me the best telescope is often simply stepping outside the ger and allowing your eyes twenty minutes to adjust to the darkness.

Sometimes, Just Look Up

We don’t run dedicated stargazing tours. Nor do I think you need one to experience Mongolia’s night skies.

One of the advantages of travelling slowly and having some flexibility built into a journey is that there is space for the unplanned things: staying outside after dinner because the sky has suddenly cleared, walking away from the lights of the ger camp, or standing beside your driver or trip assistant while someone points out a star by its Mongolian name.

Some of the most memorable experiences in Mongolia aren’t scheduled at all. Sometimes you just need to step outside, wrap up warm and look up.

Jess @ Eternal Landscapes