The path to Moron

It's Sunday, August the 8th today and it's a rest day here in Moron. There are many Morons in Mongolia...not morons as in idiots, but Morons as in towns named Moron. It means river and I guess there are many places that decided to call themselves that back in the day before modern maps and communications were introduced. In fact, there are many other town names that are also used with rampant frequency which can be a little confusing sometimes but if you stick to the biggest 'xyz' that's near your path you'll be fine. Moron is not pronounced in our usual fashion but sounds like "more" + "one as in tone". I've also heard the version "more" + "in" as well and the Lonely Planet suggests "mu" + "roon". Whatever the case, when we asked for directions along the way nobody misunderstood whatever version we happened to blurt out. Moron is the capital city of the aimag(province) Khovsgol and has a population(of people) a bit under 40,000 which will quite likely make it the biggest Mongolian city we'll see outside of Ulaan Baatar. So far it's an allright city. I was expecting much less because of various published remarks.

The last 11 or so days have been a mix of terrain, weather, and emotions as we made our way from Kharkorin to Moron. This reminds me of a spelling mistake I made in my previous post that I'll need to correct (Kharkorin, not Kharakorin).

On day 8 we departed Kharkorin and headed north-west for Tsetserleg. On this day my legs felt like they had steel springs inside them. I made a note to tell this to Ann-Marie. During her first season of tree planting she cheered on a fellow planter who was losing moral. "What are your legs made of?" she shouted. "Steel springs!" Gibo would reply.
"What are your legs made of?"
"Steel springs!"
...
This comes from the movie Galipoli. The next year, which was my first year planting, Ann-Marie started to dominate and Gibo, who was still on the same crew, made a necklace with a spring on it for her as a token of thanks and respect. It got passed around a couple of times to people who kicked ass for a day or to rookies who achieved personal bests and I'm not sure where it eventually went.

Mostly nice dirt and packed "pre-road" (closed off road that is under construction...easy to hop on with a bike) made for good time until I realized I had dropped my big water bag and had to go back 4 km to retrieve it(I know it's obvious, but it made for a total of 8 extra, wasted kilometers). This 4 km was done as fast as possible lest my very handy water bag become a milk bag for some lucky herder. The road subsequently turned to what I now call "shit on a stick" road. Usually here in Mongolia you can find a part of the road or a different track that is smooth but sometimes you have no choice and the road is completely miserable. We endured it for a while and made camp on a nice knoll before the rains came. We tried to remain out of site but were in view of 3 different gers! It's crazy how gers are speckled almost everywhere in a perfect pattern...far enough apart to be remote but such that every piece of land is still visible to at least one ger. This would make for a very complicated GIS+computer programming puzzle. We met a Swiss couple, Roman and Sarah, on bikes who are wrapping up their 3 week Mongolia tour in a few days. They're off to China to continue their journey...5 months and counting. This is the second set of cycle tourers we've met. The first, Heather (Canadian) and Kirin (Auzzie) were also just finishing their Mongolia tour and were on their way home after 6 months of cycling. We feel like weekend warriors in comparison!
75km, 5:03 ride time. Camped at 47.40800 N, 102.13411 E link

Day 9 had us on dirt and mud for about 30km and then easier ground until Tsetserleg. We ran across a German couple in a crazy Mercedes camper who had driven all the way from Germany. Those crazy Germans! During the first half of the day, on the mercilessly bumpy part, I achieved a state of temporary enlightenment. It was blissful while it lasted...then I was back to cursing. Along the way, this day and many others, we have seen many similar fresh scars on hillsides. I surmised(correctly as it turned out) that they must have been mass graves from the dudz that happened last year. A dudz is a really dry summer followed by a really cold winter. With limited feeding during the summer the animals are not fat enough and the herdsmen couldn't have collected enough feed as well. All in all, millions of animals perished. I had read all that was available on this prior to coming to Mongolia. All of the media has a catastrophic slant for sure but all is not what is seems. Cresting a ridge brought Tsetserleg into view, a very picturesque town nestled between a couple of rocky hills and a plateau. Overlooking town is a little temple with steps along a ridge leading to it. So far Tsetserleg is the nicest town we've seen. Nestled into Fairfields guest house and enjoyed their fine establishment and food. Their dinner was so good I had two!
58km, 4:28 ride time.

Day 10 was a half rest day. We strolled up to the temple, briefly internetted, and shopped. The battery in my bike speedometer was on the fritz and I couldn't find the one I had as a replacement so the search was on. After several attempts I was directed to a building called Mamoo (or Mooma, I forget) in which there were several tiny shops. One shop was the computer and watch guy who happened to have a decent battery selection. To be honest, I was quite skeptical that I'd find a battery. After lunch we packed up and headed up the pass. We treated some water from Fairfields to bring with us but just up the hill out of town there is a spring next to the road that I would recommend. Steep dirt turned to steeper dirt. The road was moderately used so many vehicles would pass us, leaving a stagnant black diesel cloud, burning oil plume, or half combusted fuel vapour for our inhaling pleasure. I would try to hold my breath but that'd only last a few seconds before I had to gasp to maintain my output (dismal crawl) up the hill. Luckily it was only an hour and the downhill dirt was nice and then turned unexpectedly into pavement until the town of Ikh Tamir. A nice river flows through Ikh Tamir along which many trees grow. Somehow these trees have escaped the deforestation that is the norm in many other places we've seen. From above you can trace the river along the valley by the trees. Once through Ikh Tamir the pavement ended (for good) and was replaced to more multi-tracks that winded their way up and out of the valley into another with spectacular scenery. As we puttered along we happened upon a family of 5 whose motorcyle had had a flat(not quite sure how they all fit on). Dad was hard at work repairing it. Bike on its side in the grass, tire off the rim, various tubes cut up, tools sprawled, and a can of glue surrounded him as he toiled. We stopped and said hi and conversed amoungst ourselves that perhaps they would appreciate some cookies. Just as we were about to get the goodies two trucks rolled along and stopped. We were quickly surrounded by a bunch of guys, one of whom was asking for something. It turned out that he had a small burn and wanted something to put on it. Being rich tourists, we would have a large supply of pills and creams that would make his pain go away. Or so he thought. Some of his fellow truckers sort of shook their heads which was a good sign. I gestured that he should wash it and keep it clean and that it didn't look that bad. I got some nods and others repeated it like the agreed. But the man kept pressing. Ah, a crybaby I thought to myself. I made further gestures to indicate that the burn was small (it was) and that a bit of water would make it feel better and then grabbed his bicep and made the muscle gesture and said "tough like Chinggis"...trying to appeal to a) his masculinity and b) his warrior heritage. You'd think this would stop any whining Mongolian male but it didn't. I stopped smiling and said "NO" to everything he did and slowly walked my bike away. His buddies fatigued before he did and convinced him to get in the truck and they all left, drugless and in pain. Don't get me wrong, I'd share what I have if needed but treating every scratch to everyone who asks would enforce a med-seeking-from-tourist habit and would quickly depleat my own emergency supply. A few hundred meters more and we stopped to have a snack. After a while we see the mom and 3 kids making their way towards us. We surmised that they were in fact hungry and that they were willing to walk a ways to ask. This is a typical Mongolian way to ask for food or to be invited to chat...they come near enough that it's really obvious they want something but far enough that you can choose to ignore them if you want to. We gestured them over to fed them some cookies and dried fruit while passing some water around. It turns out they were hungry and rather desicated from hanging out in the sun while dad built a tire from scratch. A ways up the valley we found a lovely camp spot.
A funny event on the way down from the pass...a fellow on a motorbike gave us the finger and a menacing stare. This has been the only such negative remark/gesture we've had towards us. It's all been smiles and happy waves which came crashing down with this flipping of the bird. I respect his honesty and can understand why he'd want to be rude. My naive hope is that our small impact here is at worst neutral and not negative.
camp: 47.63324 N, 101.09593 E link
40km, 3:09 riding.

Day 11 felt like a longer day. More or less a gentle uphill with a headwind all day. At least the dirt was smooth. Had tsuivan(noodles and mutton) for lunch at a guanz. Olgi (I think that's what his name was) was the 17 year old son of the guanz owners and hung around practicing his english words while trying on my sunglasses and hat. At one point he flexes his arms and says "strong man" and points to himself. We both smile and nod encouragingly and then resume eating. Moments later he clears a path through my stuff on the table and challenges me to an arm wrestle. Thinking back to when I was 17 I remember nothing better than defeating people in arm wrestling. In fact, I was quite good back then. My folks were wise and bought me a set of weights one xmas(something to burn off that peaking testosterone) and I must have trained every day for 8 months as hard as I could. I could then totally crush anyone (thanks mom and dad). So, as you can understand, I couldn't leave the kid hanging. As I got into position I sized him up and mentally gave him some credit for being a hard working kid who spends his free time getting stronger. "If that was the 17 year old me, I will be in for a beating." I thought to myself. Then I quickly thought of some other factors including the probable amount of free time he spends training, his body type, and arm size. I couldn't think of much going for myself besides "biking arms" and my senei's saying of "youth and skill is no match for age and treachery" but that was enough that by the time we clasped hands I firmly knew I would crush him. And I did, instantly. An ensuing rematch lasted just as long, about a half second. Score one for the middle aged man. While he lavished the appropriate respect I pointed to my beard and shrugged. A few more hours in the saddle brought us near to the top of what looked like either a pass or a plateau where we camped. A stunning camp spot with a firey sunset and herds of sheep and goat around us. Ravens grouped together in the sky above for a while before flying to their sleeping spot. A couple of friendly boys from a ger below spotted us while herding and came over. Some small chat and cookies led to an invite to their ger which we declined. We have been invited a few times now and have thus far declined for a few reasons: 1) too close to tourist track and don't wan't to have awkward price negotiations 2) have already set up camp or eaten 3) prefer our camping spot!
I, more than B, am keen to accept an offer and return the hospitality with the appropriate gifts one of these days. today we met Enricae (en-ree-kay) from Italy who had cycled all the way from his home in Italy except for a portion of Kazakastan when his heel was not so good. His enthusiasm and personality was a highlight of the day for sure!
60 km, 6:08 riding. camp: 47.96285 N, 100.56778 E link

Day 12 started with a bit of hill climbing that led to nice downhill dirt tracks. Running low on water we decided to stop at a family ger complex that had a well house to ask for water. It turned out that their own barrels needed to be filled so they loaded them onto the cart and had their yak pull it to the well. The key was passed from one person to the next and eventually made its way to the guy who was guiding the yak. The well house resembled a bunker. Concrete walls and a door that looks like it was made for a paranoid Parisian playwright. Inside was a generator whose sole purpose is to run the water pump, valued posessions. Filling up was quick and down the dirt tracks we continued. The tracks turned into a closed main road with tracks along the side. The main road was in a pre-paved state...smooth and fast all the way to lunch (tsuivan) at a guanz. I love lunch at guanzes, when I can get it. We passed the scenic Chuluut Gorge and the road got rocky and slow with a headwind. After a brief period we deemed the nearby dirt tracks better than the highway and veered off to preserve our sanity and avoid the dusty clouds from passing vehicles. The road came to a vast flat(though slightly sloping the wrong way!) grassland (is this what they call a steppe?!) and shot straight along its edge. On the right were some meandering tracks that went into this grassland away from the highway. The middle track followed the main road. We chose the righthand track that took us away. The gamble was that it would eventually come near to the main road again. It turned out to be a wonderful ride. About 25km of quiet riding on nice ground with only 1 car and spectacular views. The highway was almost always in view but many kilometers away. Eventually, after rejoining the road, we made our way to Tariat for some supplies and then took the road on the north side of Terkhiin Tsagaan Nuur (white lake) for a while where we camped on a rocky lava field.
74km, 6:48 riding. camp: 48.19015 N, 99.84866 E link

Day 13 was to be a rest day but we did need to move our camp spot to somewhere on the lake and not on a pile of rocks and not near a parking lot. I learned that it's not a good idea to sleep in the same shirt I cycle in...I was grumpy last night and ate my newly purchased wagon wheels and neglected hygene. We passed a slew of ger camps along the start of the lake and stopped at the last one for a disappointing and expensive lunch. We've learned to have servers repeat back what we're having...otherwise it's a gamble that you'll get what you ordered! While eating some fool decided to take my bike for a spin. I have occasionally let a person ride my bike when it's not fully loaded but never when it's loaded and never when there's a group of people around. Spotting this fellow mounting my ride made my blood boil and about a second after hopping on I was out the door with my biggest "NO!" from 50 meters away. I felt like an alley cat approaching a cat dipping into my trash can. With fur puffed up I approached until the bike was dismounted and placed in a stable position. "Sorry" was the sheepish reply as he meekly scurried away. It's not that I thrive on confrontation, but if somebody rarely rides a bike, let alone a fully loaded one, it's quite probably that they'd crash it...either by falling over or by hitting a pannier into something. The prospect of having my camera squashed or a rack bent in the middle of nowhere is enough to justify my no-ride policy. For the record, the 3 people I've let try my bike while loaded have crashed...but because I was running beside them I caught the bike. A nice spot by the lake rounded out the rest day.
18km, 2:05 riding camp: 48.18408 N, 99.71885 E link

On day 14 we woke to rain and couldn't muster until it stopped. We then cycled into headwinds so strong that we needed to pedal on the downhills. After a few hours we threw in the towel and camped. Along the way we saw some eagles chowing on a corpse of some animal. They could be hawks, I'm not sure. Birders, please identify! I remember looking at my speedometer and getting up to 13km/hr going down a hill...truely disheartening and demoralizing!
24km, 2:53 riding camp: 48.21014 N, 99.47887 E link

Day 15 was miserable. Headwinds all day, long uphill start, cold, and driving rain and loads of mud. The highlight was at the top of a pass there was a guanz where we chowed on some hot milk tea and food that we hadn't tried yet. They were sort of like deep fried mutton pizza pockets. I chowed several and B had one too before tackling the freezing downhill. Once in the valley below we were encouraged a little, thinking that we were getting close to Jargalant. But every hill and every bend only turned up more stretches of slow mud and headwind. At one point I stopped a car and asked how far way from Jargalant we were..."10km". The slowest 10km of our lives! As miserable as it was I felt that my temperature and energy level was pretty good. B wasn't looking in the greatest of shape but persisted until we happened upon a tourist ger camp close to town. The winning feature was that there were wood stoves in each ger so we went for it. Doing our bit to help the deforestation, we unpacked and dried everything. My camera, computer, and speedometer were all moist. Thankfully, with some gentle drying, they all made a recovery.(wrap in plastic more bags!)
~55km ~7hr riding ger camp: 48.55948 N, 99.36708 E link

===at this point I realize that I've spent a significant portion of my rest day typing at my computer. It's a bit of a chore and perhaps I'm detailing too much. Maybe I'll try more summarizing instead....

Day 16
Took a while to get on the road. The Mongolian staff were all keen to hang out and chat while looking at our bikes. In general, Mongolians are a little standoffish or shy but once they get the goahead they're all chatty and want to touch and play with everything. It's quite fun to see the shift during a conversation. Once through Jargalant we crossed a condemned but still fully operational bridge and headed in the direction of the town Shine Idre. After looking at some cool burial mounds and standing stones (I love standing stones...they're so cool!) we made camp. A fellow on a horse came by and we had a near silent conversation. It was a very typical herder interaction (except usually they talk a little more): they come by on a horse and you wave them over and say hi "sain bain uu", to which they reply "sain, sain bain uu". Most of the time when they approach I shake hands and if we have cookies we offer them some, or chocolate. We then guess what they're asking and say where we're going and possibly where we started, Ulaan Baatar. And sure as sure, at some point in the conversation they'll start looking around and mumble something to themselves and then squat down on one knee while pulling out a scope. Every time, it's the same type of scope: a pair of binoculars that has been disassembled into just one scope. Presumably the other half belongs to their father or brother. They squat and look through the scope talking to themselves. We ask enthusiastically if they see an animal. Big or small we gesture. Then nod "ssstt". "sheep" we gester, "to eat?" "ssstt" they reply. Then they sit there for a while scanning as we run out of things to say. Usually once they get up it'll only be a matter of seconds before they're gone. On one occasion we had the pleasure of witnessing a gun pulled from the truck (not a horse this time) and the man walk away to stalk something. I pulled out my camera but promptly put it away after his kids and buddy all waved their hands(no pics of poaching I guess). He returned empty handed. Lots of guns around. Mostly .22s I think. And some keep their precious amount of ammo on a bracelet. Basically, with every herdsman having a scope and every spotted animal stalked, it's a wonder there are any animals left! (note previous comments about being hard to get away from the site of a ger...this applies to animals as well)
32km, 3:26 riding camp: 48.75565 N, 99.38730 E link

Day 17
Made for Zuun Nuur, a lake just north of the town of Shine Idre. Some really nice weather encouraged us along as did some nice downhills. The town of Shine Idre is such a nice little place! We didn't spend much time there besides doing a little shopping and a brief tour but it just exudes niceness. If I had to live in Mongolia, it'd be either Shine Idre or Tsetserleg. On the way up to the lake a vehicle passed is in the opposite direction with bikes on the roof. As they got closer, I noticed that they were really nice bikes...surely cycle tourers. They stopped briefly...just brief enough to tell us that were going to where we are going but they'd been robbed of ALL their stuff except their bikes while riding by 2 men on motorcyle. Before we could ferret out any details the Mongolian driver sped away. Just enough information to put a damper on our moral. I have spent many hours since then thinking of all the possible scenarios. We have also taken some extra measures to ensure safety and post-robbery resiliency. And as it turns out, we have modified our route due to time anyway so we won`t be going on the stretch where it happened(Moron - Khatgal). In the evening we had a nice visit with a herder named Tsengan who was 30, had 2 kids ages 3 and 5 and a wife of age 33. He herds yaks, lives next to his brothers and sisters and his horse is 8 years old and is easy to deal with, but impatient. He didn't have a scope, perhaps that's why we were able to hold his attention long enough to get this information.
53km, 6:11 riding camp: 49.06097 N, 99.51903 E link

Day 18: Indiana B and the temple of spiders...
B`s turn to make breakfast. We alternate who makes breakfast and who gets to sleep in a bit. Anyway, after a bit of rustling around I hear a shriek...it turns out we camped in an area that is infested with spiders and they LOVED the tent and all the panniers. As soon as the door was unzipped they just fell in and started crawling around. The next while was spent exterminating spiders and getting them out of our gear, panniers, clothes, etc.(hundreds, really!). We`d both rather not have that happen again. More uphill and then some well earned downhill...a nicely sustained slightly sloping steppe racked up some free distance and brought us through some more scenic country. A nice lady gave us some yak yogurt with sugar which was delicious. Another family in a land cruiser gave us lollypops. Mongolians LOVE sweets. One `shop` we went to today had sweets and juice, that`s it. Very easy to stock up on chocolate in this country. A windy camp spot on a ridge out of site. No evening visits.
54km, 5:01 riding camp: 49.37386 N, 99.89637 E link

Day 19
After a quick morning visit by a herder and the ensuing spotting scope scenario we started our 11km uphill under threatening skies. Luckily the weather`s bark was worse that its bite and we never got hammered by rain. Unfortunately my gi tract's bite is worse than it's bite and I've resorted to using ciprofloxacin, the nuclear bomb of the bowel (or so Derek and Chris claim from their African saga. They would self-administer partial courses at the slightest tickle in the tummy!). Once at the pass it was downhill pretty much all the way to Moron (except for the last 7km). The road, however, wasn`t always so smooth and one bumpy rocky shit-on-a-stick section decided to have its way with one of B`s front rack mounts. A mount on the front fork was sheared off. To mount it onto the other lower mount required creating spacers from the spare brake pads. I figure if they`re good enough for brakes, they`re good enough for a rack. By the end of the fixit job it was good to go, albeit a little non-level but that`s ok. Looks like Surly will be getting a warranty visit upon B`s return. We`ve heard they`re good to deal with so there`s no worries...I just hope the rest of the mounts stay put! Into Moron and installed at the 50-100 hotel.
45km, 4:08 riding hotel: 49.63743 N, 100.16011 E (not quite 50 100 as claimed!) link

Day 20
Rest day in Moron. Mostly spent writing this. "you`re no fun when you blog" says B.