The Crossing

“No Olgii!” boomed our overweight, joker of a driver, pointing to four bald tires and an empty fuel tank. “No diesel, no Olgii!” he exclaimed again, confirming our worst fear. The raw reaches of the Gov Altai aimag stretched on in all directions, prisonlike in their expanse. Olgii, Mongolia’s westernmost hub and another 700 km to the west, may as well have been on another planet. My body and mind ached from the previous day’s 24-hour push across the northern edge of the Gobi desert in a Korean minibus crammed to the gills with luggage and passengers. I stared blankly onto the western Mongolian plain, nervously pondering what we were in for.

Steppe sunset

(CJ Carter photo)

A common stop, northern Gobi

(photo A. Rains)

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Brokedown and buzzed with some impromptu radiator maintenance

(photo CJ Carter)

Glancing across the dusty entryway to the western Gobi cantina, I caught the thousand-mile stare in Aaron’s eyes. Outside, our recently acquainted Kazakh drivers argued back and forth about a recently broken radiator on one of their three Kia Frontier mini trucks. We had by some fortune (or misfortune) been handed off to the Kazakhs at a local auto shop in Gov Altai, where through some indiscernible exchange I had witnessed our original driver hand one of them a sum of cash then motion at us to move our gear into the beds of their dusty vehicles. We had optimistically obliged- at that point, wheels turning to the west was the only thing needed. Now, four hours later and only 60km from Gov Altai, the reality of our situation was beginning to sink in. Since departing with our new ride, we had averaged only 20km/hr over dirt roads, broken down twice, and pulled two stuck vehicles out of the sand, one of which required the use of an avalanche shovel. The latest in the beginning of this saga was the broken radiator, resulting from one of the vodka-fueled drivers careening into a gravel embankment bordering the road. And so, sipping milk tea in a dirty cantina with a brewing sandstorm driving home the desperation of our uncontrollable and unpredictable escapade to the west, it was all too apparent- the road to Tavan Bogd would be hard won.

Making do with what we've got

(photo CJ Carter)

Night approaches the western Gobi

(photo R. Minton)

Tired eyes, through the night

(photo CJ Carter)

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We left Ulaanbaatar on Saturday evening, reaching Olgii by Wednesday morning. Our original plan to ride a Russian Furgon was amended when we discovered none of the burly vans were scheduled to head to Olgii- waiting for one could have taken days. Instead, we were set up with a driver heading west in his Korean minibus. He had agreed to drive us to Olgii, after dropping off ten other passengers in Gov Altai, roughly the halfway point of the journey. Our best option, we took him up on it, and squeezed into the van on Saturday with the illusion that we would reach our destination in the same vehicle with the same driver. What ensued was the most mind-bending roller coaster ride of a road trip any of us have ever endured. The nearly 100 hours of non stop travel over 1700km of raw Mongolian double track carried us from the flats of the Gobi desert to the mountains of the beautiful Khovd region, finally (and somewhat unbelievably) landing us in the stark western town of Olgii. Countless breakdowns, humorous and frustrating language barriers, bone jarring “highways,” sleepless pushes through the night, and more than our fair share of milk tea (with a dose of fermented camel’s milk) were all par for the course.

(photo CJ Carter)

(photo A. Rains)

Simple and stark, the beauty of Mongolia

(photo A. Rains)

When we weren’t attempting minor recoveries from the travel conditions (read: cramped, sitting bitch in between two Kazakhs, knees cocked to one side so the driver can reach the shifter while his friend sleeps on your shoulder, all the while bouncing down the biggest washboards we’d ever seen) we took great amazement and amusement in the Kazakhs ability to repeatedly jury-rig their vehicles, oftentimes in the most primitive of ways. It was all too common for the whole junkshow of a caravan to come to a screeching halt, everyone exiting the vehicles, at which point all the Kazakhs would to stand around while one crawled under the truck to wail on the underside of the ill-equipped Kia with a random piece of metal. These sessions would typically last about twenty minutes, culminating in the mechanic emerging with a smile, proclaiming “Go go go!” Other times, they would finish their repairs then disappear into a random outpost, leaving us to wonder when we were to leave, only to discover them sleeping an hour later, unable to be risen. We had absolutely no say in the matter, no doubt having been forcibly switched to Kazakh time.

A welcome reprieve from the confines of the Kia

(photo R. Minton)

Fueling up in the Khovd region

(photo CJ Carter)

By and by, we gained a decent rapport with our newfound travel mates. Through use of a Mongolian-English dictionary and phrasebook, as well as the Kazakhs extremely limited English, we developed a simple vein of communication, providing some relief from the painstakingly slow journey. The pace, however, granted us plenty of time to gaze onto the beauty of the Mongolian landscape, either epic and beautiful or mind numbingly desolate, but always new and exciting as we gained ground to the west and the mountains. The night before arriving in Olgii, we crested a large pass at sunset, greeted on the other side by the lush city of Khovd, the Altai Mountains stretching beyond. Leaving the desert behind, we descended into town, watching the sunset on the final night of our westward highway travels. The next morning, the Kazakhs dumped us at the Olgii city limits and disappeared, leaving us with dust-laden bags and tired eyes.

First view of snowy mountains, Zereg, Mongolia

(photo R. Minton)

A sight for sore eyes- descending into beautiful Khovd after the desert crossing

(photo A. Rains)

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Olgii, Mongolia

(photo R. Minton)

We have been in Olgii for two days now, resting and recovering in a comfortable ger camp. Olgii is a nice change from the urban setting, a peaceful small town nestled in a valley on the edge of the mountains. We’ve enjoyed good food and the hospitality of Khada, our local affiliate, as he aided in helping us acquire fuel, make our final food purchases, and finalize plans- tomorrow we depart for Tavan Bogd, hoping to reach base camp by Saturday evening. The road conquered, bags packed, mountains on our minds, and bodies recharged, the time has come to get western. We’re just hoping we remember how to ski.

Onward...

(photo R. Minton)