B - reporting
We woke quite early in our gorgeous green campsite. Tiny wild birds hopped around the rocks as we breakfasted, and a large bird of prey circled above. Mongolia smells lovely, sort of lavender-thyme-ish.
We set off about 9:30, headed for the granite rocks of Baga Gadzrin chuluu. There are scores of dirt tracks, and Hans asked at a ger to make sure we were following the right one. After a brief detour we were back on track and heading south-ish on the sandy road.
I was happily watching a herd of goats when we suddenly hit a wash-out, landing hard on the front wheels. We were both fine, but poor Swiss had a cracked radiator. G knew how to fix it, and was just about to take the bash plate off when 2 car-loads of Mongolians appeared as if by magic, and two guys immediately crawled under the car to help. Their friends passed round a tea cup full of horse milk, and later vodka, then sat on the ground, quietly chatting. I passed round some sweets (candies, for you colonials). A random man on a bike appeared, and also got involved.
Random Mongolian fact: horse milk is sour.
The random bike man sped off to herd some goats, and by now the radiator had been fixed with JB Kwik, and several young men were enthusiastically using a blow torch to dry it, after lighting their cigarettes in the flame. The first weld didn’t hold, so G and the two mechanics did a second one. I offered our box of beers to the patiently waiting people, which was well received.
The weld worked, and we were invited to their camp for dinner by a friendly smiling man whose name I can’t remember. We followed them off the road, rather confused, to a ger next to big holes and piles of earth, and an excavator. Our host ushered us into the ger, past a bucket of sheep off-cuts (legs etc), and we were given bowls of tea. Tea! We immediately felt better.
The circular ger contained a fire in the centre, a bed to the right of the doorway, a table with benches against the wall opposite the doorway (where we sat), a fridge and kettle, and another bench behind us. We were introduced to about ten people – all men – who crowded onto every available seat. I instantly forgot their names. A woman (we later discovered she was the cook) produced a box of chocolates, a packet of fancy biscuits, and a some cream-ish coloured oblongs. Our host opened a bottle of Mongolian whiskey, and handed round tots in small paper cups.
We ‘cheers-ed’ in three languages and then a bowl of cooked sheep innards was produced. A huge bowl, full of lumpy things, tubey things, hearts, livers, and other less appetizing parts. Hans and Thea explained that they could not eat, due to stomach illness. Our host looked surprised. G and I both smiled and said ‘we eat!’ We started with biscuits, then had an oblong of solid yoghurt (quite nice, though rather sour) and finally I was offered a bit of sheep heart which I hope I implied was delicious. This was a lie.
The whiskey helped with the language barrier and we had soon explained we were from Canada etc. Someone had heard of the Vancouver Canucks, and Wayne Gretzky! We learned that our host owned the excavator and this camp was a small private mine. We were shown round the mine, smiling and nodding at the piles of earth and rocks, then went back for the main course – sheep cooked in hot stones.
We were first each given a stone, which everyone tossed from hand to hand as they were really hot. Why? We have no idea. To cleanse the hands? For warmth, as we would be eating outside? However, it was about 40 degrees out there in the sun... We ate some mutton (ribs and a random vertebrae) while Hans wondered around pleading his belly.
Our host was now best mates with G, and was eager to be in a group photo. I had the honour of getting a large group of drunken men to shout ‘cheese’, and we explained we had to leave.
Smelling strongly of mutton, we drove off. It was about 4pm by now, and the sky overhead was dark with clouds. But we weren’t far from the granite rocks and we found a little valley to camp in. The storm blew over and sun emerged, for another beautiful evening. Neither G or I could face any kind of meat, so we had peanut butter and cucumber sandwiches for dinner.
We woke quite early in our gorgeous green campsite. Tiny wild birds hopped around the rocks as we breakfasted, and a large bird of prey circled above. Mongolia smells lovely, sort of lavender-thyme-ish.
We set off about 9:30, headed for the granite rocks of Baga Gadzrin chuluu. There are scores of dirt tracks, and Hans asked at a ger to make sure we were following the right one. After a brief detour we were back on track and heading south-ish on the sandy road.
I was happily watching a herd of goats when we suddenly hit a wash-out, landing hard on the front wheels. We were both fine, but poor Swiss had a cracked radiator. G knew how to fix it, and was just about to take the bash plate off when 2 car-loads of Mongolians appeared as if by magic, and two guys immediately crawled under the car to help. Their friends passed round a tea cup full of horse milk, and later vodka, then sat on the ground, quietly chatting. I passed round some sweets (candies, for you colonials). A random man on a bike appeared, and also got involved.
Random Mongolian fact: horse milk is sour.
The random bike man sped off to herd some goats, and by now the radiator had been fixed with JB Kwik, and several young men were enthusiastically using a blow torch to dry it, after lighting their cigarettes in the flame. The first weld didn’t hold, so G and the two mechanics did a second one. I offered our box of beers to the patiently waiting people, which was well received.
The weld worked, and we were invited to their camp for dinner by a friendly smiling man whose name I can’t remember. We followed them off the road, rather confused, to a ger next to big holes and piles of earth, and an excavator. Our host ushered us into the ger, past a bucket of sheep off-cuts (legs etc), and we were given bowls of tea. Tea! We immediately felt better.
The circular ger contained a fire in the centre, a bed to the right of the doorway, a table with benches against the wall opposite the doorway (where we sat), a fridge and kettle, and another bench behind us. We were introduced to about ten people – all men – who crowded onto every available seat. I instantly forgot their names. A woman (we later discovered she was the cook) produced a box of chocolates, a packet of fancy biscuits, and a some cream-ish coloured oblongs. Our host opened a bottle of Mongolian whiskey, and handed round tots in small paper cups.
We ‘cheers-ed’ in three languages and then a bowl of cooked sheep innards was produced. A huge bowl, full of lumpy things, tubey things, hearts, livers, and other less appetizing parts. Hans and Thea explained that they could not eat, due to stomach illness. Our host looked surprised. G and I both smiled and said ‘we eat!’ We started with biscuits, then had an oblong of solid yoghurt (quite nice, though rather sour) and finally I was offered a bit of sheep heart which I hope I implied was delicious. This was a lie.
The whiskey helped with the language barrier and we had soon explained we were from Canada etc. Someone had heard of the Vancouver Canucks, and Wayne Gretzky! We learned that our host owned the excavator and this camp was a small private mine. We were shown round the mine, smiling and nodding at the piles of earth and rocks, then went back for the main course – sheep cooked in hot stones.
We were first each given a stone, which everyone tossed from hand to hand as they were really hot. Why? We have no idea. To cleanse the hands? For warmth, as we would be eating outside? However, it was about 40 degrees out there in the sun... We ate some mutton (ribs and a random vertebrae) while Hans wondered around pleading his belly.
Our host was now best mates with G, and was eager to be in a group photo. I had the honour of getting a large group of drunken men to shout ‘cheese’, and we explained we had to leave.
Smelling strongly of mutton, we drove off. It was about 4pm by now, and the sky overhead was dark with clouds. But we weren’t far from the granite rocks and we found a little valley to camp in. The storm blew over and sun emerged, for another beautiful evening. Neither G or I could face any kind of meat, so we had peanut butter and cucumber sandwiches for dinner.
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| Our Mongolian Helpers/Hosts |
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| Sunset after one hell of a day for all sorts of reasons. |
omg Graham you look sooo happy!!!!!! like little boy!!! :)
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