Plane tickets, ski gear, border permits, a translator, and…camels? So goes the course of planning a western Mongolian ski odyssey. Sitting in a cozy Bozeman coffee shop with the snow melting outside, it’s surreal to consider the impending reality of our travels, slated to begin in four weeks. One month ago today, our present plan was a mere concept. But now, with tickets purchased, funding acquired, and the necessary equipment stacking up, we come closer and closer to writing our own chapter in the book of international ski exploration.
I was afforded a good dose of humor recently during one of many perusals of the Lonely Planet guide to Mongolia. Skimming over the section on recreation and activities, I read: “Despite the cold temperatures and rugged terrain, there are virtually no opportunities for downhill skiing in Mongolia.” I laughed out loud, recalling my first peek at photos of the stunning Altai Mountains and the immediate desire to carve turns down their sharp, snowcapped crests and broad faces. I bemused the statement once more, chalking it up as a testament to the adventure component in travels like this.
The adventure begins long before the mountains are reached, though. One of the most interesting and exciting parts of the planning is the different people encountered along the way, and how they singlehandedly contribute to the experience for the better. Even with the planning in its infancy, we have already encountered some of these unique individuals in our seemingly never-ending logistical plotting.
One such character is Kent Madin, owner and founder of Bozeman based Boojum Expeditions and Honorary Consul to Mongolia for the Northern Rockies. Kent has, by my estimation, traveled the world over and back again and seen some wild places along the way, all the while carrying with him the requisite lightheartedness and positive, what-will-be-will-be attitude necessary for world travel. His excitement and support for our far-flung plans to ski Outer Mongolia maintain our optimism and stoke for the upcoming trip, especially when logistics threaten to overwhelm. From arranging Skype meetings with locals in Ulaanbaatar to offering practical and informed advice on Mongolian travel, his input over the last couple months has proven invaluable. He concluded our last meeting in his downtown Bozeman office by handing over a single, typed sheet with basic yet useful English-Mongolian language translations. I read them over, and reaching the bottom noticed a translation for the phrase “My feet are wet, my butt is sore, I can’t find my gloves and I wish I were in Cancun.” Reading it aloud, I chuckled, looking up from the sheet to see Kent reclining, his baritone laugh filling the confines of the lofted office. Somehow, I felt like he wasn’t joking.
