Mongolia

This entry is part 26 of 24 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #3

You might think riding Mongolia would be all about temples, eagles, the Gobi and 2500km of off-road tracks uninterrupted by fences. You’d be right, except it’s all that and so much more. Ex-pat Aussie Denise Bentall joined a Britton Adventures tour to find out first-hand.

The crew. Denise, the author, is third from the left.

Relieved to survive the erratic traffic of Mongolia’s capital Ulaan Baatar, local lead rider Munko shot off the four metre road embankment and into the steppes of Mongolia. Instead of choosing a more sensible line I braced myself for the descent and remarkably stayed on. Rachael, my daughter, thought: ‘Mum made that look easy’ and followed.

That started the wonderful 17-day adventure.

Mighty Mike Britton led the way. Those are yak in the background ignoring him.

Wolfman

Bikes used were 2010 WR450Fs and WR250Fs, with lowered KLX250s provided as requested for the ladies. Terrain was mostly off-road tracks, with speeds up to 90kph. Gravel, sand, river crossings and rocky roads full of potholes all offered plenty of fun, challenges and flat tyres. Auckland rider Murray set the record by getting two flat tyres at once after “hitting a clay bank”.

Whatever.

Trip leader, Mighty Mike Britton from NZ-based Britton Adventures rode as sweep, changing wheels or making repairs in a flash with assistance from the awesome Mongolian backup crew.

Munko, the human GPS, led the way and set the pace with the cornerman system in place to avoid anyone getting lost and having to beg to spend the night in a local ‘ger’ – felt-lined tents favoured by the Mongolian nomad tribes. Tradition has it the locals will take you in for the night if necessary, but they don’t speak a word of English. Riders were warned to be wary of ger dogs as their role is to protect the stock from wolves, and they can be aggressive. None of the group was keen to risk a bite with rabies present in Mongolia, although Bogy, the local interpreter, was happy to let a wolf pup chew his hand.

Kitchen whizz

There were a few glitches getting used to the cornerman system. Mike chased a couple of mavericks who missed a turn, but eventually was forced to return without them. The pair were mopped up by the Mongolian crew down the track, turning up a little late for our gourmet lunch next to a Turkish monument dating back to the Ottoman rule.

Laying the smack down, Mongolian style.

Boldera, Mongolia’s answer to Nigella Lawson, had been talked into cooking for the trip and she served up excellent lunches in the dining marquee set up especially each day. The marquee was transported to each location by UAZs, Russian 4WD vans, nicknamed ‘Ivan Delicas’ due to their heritage and resemblance to certain Mitsubishi vans.

The ger is a warm and comfortable shelter…even if the mattresses were sometimes a touch hard.

Sweet revenge

The second day’s ride started with a blast in some sand dunes. Steve had his only off for the trip, and I discovered that ‘she who hesitates is lost’ on the lip of a steep dune.

That was followed by a two-hump camel ride. Rachael jumped on a pony for a quick gallop, and then it was some great off-road riding to the ancient capital and monastery of Chinggis Khaan and a photo shoot holding a hunting eagle. What a great way to start the trip!

In a ger camp that night we were treated to an amazing throat-singing concert and a 13-year-old contortionist. Wow! These guys are talented musicians.

Anywhere else in the world this would be an incredible, romantic scene. On the Britton Adventures tour of Mongolia, it was like this most nights. The marquee travelled with the group as a dining hut.

It turned out they weren’t such talented cooks…but as Angela said, you don’t come to Mongolia for the food.

Vodka and Bordeaux wine proved to be able digestive assistants throughout the trip.

Preparing food is a communal and very efficient process.

We were looked after amazingly well, riding through lovely valleys dotted with ger (the plural of ‘ger’ is ‘ger’) and grazing herds of horses, sheep, yak, cattle and goats, usually tended by young boys without helmets or shoes riding bareback.

Arriving at the lunch marquee, we’d park our bikes, remove dust moustaches with wet wipes and tuck into restaurant produced cream-ofmushroom soup, frozen and brought along in the Ivan Delica’s chest freezer. This was followed by burgers and a variety of chocolate bars guaranteed to foil any hope of losing a couple of kilos from all the extra exercise.

None of a sheep is wasted. Boldera’s cooking up some sheep offal, but the Westerners were served more traditional cuts of mutton.

Crew

The backup team of Mongolians included: 60-year-old mechanic, triple Mongolian motocross champion and ex-policeman Buayan; Russian-military trained LandCruiser owner/driver Bold – who amazed us with his ability to look perfectly crisp and clean the entire trip despite sleeping in his car each night; and Tsegy, Ivan Jeep driver and next year’s lead rider.

The 4WDs used roads to keep up and be on hand in case of injury or mechanical problems, and to transport Angela Bruce, co-trip-organiser and first aider, and Bogy, trip interpreter.

There was plenty of animal life throughout the whole ride.

The 4WDs used roads to keep up and be on hand in case of injury or mechanical problems, and to transport Angela Bruce, co-trip-organiser and first aider, and Bogy, trip interpreter.

Other locals drove the capable old two-wheel drive ZIL Russian truck with robust suspension and dual wheels which transported a spare bike, fuel and other supplies, and acted as a hanging post for the slaughtered sheep and goats purchased by the crew to take home on the last camping night of the trip. Kev, a Beijing-based, British oil-industry engineer, owns the bikes and wouldn’t miss the ride each year. He proved a fascinating source of information about life in Mongolia.

Storm troopers

Most nights were spent in ger camps, traditional Mongolian nomadic round homes constructed of wooden roof poles and lattice held together with dried animal gut. The structure was covered in sheepskin wool felt and tensioned with horsehair rope. Beds were wooden with firm mattresses, and the pillows smelled of sheep and felt as though they were filled with rocks. Showers were usually hot, and mutton was served for most dinners. Some ger camps had hot pools and some had freezing lakes to take a dip. This isn’t a tour you’d recommend to girls who are into Club Med.

The camping nights were a breeze. Turning up after a hard day’s riding to find your tent set up and dinner being cooked was magic. Angela informed us that camping nights were accompanied by a traditional Britton Adventures storm each year, and this trip was no exception. We expected to wake up toasted when gunshot thunder shook our tents as the sky came alive with lightning at 3.00am.

Lake Khovsgol near the Russian border.

Ewe bet!

Mongolian nomads’ summer diet traditionally consists of a variety of dairy products made from sheep or mare’s milk, including Airag, an eight-per-cent alcohol drink tasting like fizzy, fermented yoghurt, which is extremely popular.

Their winter diet consists almost exclusively of mutton, especially the fat and offal. No part of the sheep is wasted, as we saw when we watched a sheep killed for dinner. We were impressed with the communal cooperation, lack of fuss, efficient butchering and lack of waste.

The whole procedure could be done inside a ger in the winter without a drop of blood being spilled.

Thankfully we Westerners scored chargrilled sheep meat for dinner. It was delicious.

Festival records

Nadaam is an annual festival made up of three competitions designed to celebrate male prowess: horse racing, in which young boys race 30km cross-country with no saddle or helmet, archery, and wrestling. Trip drivers Bold and Tsegy drove us 20km to the nearest town while the bikes were being serviced, and we were fortunate enough to see the fun. The losing wrestler walked under the arm of the winner, who then slapped the loser on the bum and victory-danced around an altar waving his hands up and down – the kind of act no Western male would be found dead performing.

One to remember

There was a fair variety of riding on the trip. Some tracks closely resembled the outback tracks of Australia, and the pothole-riddled roads were a blast.

The trip organisation was superb and riders didn’t have to worry about anything except staying on so we could keep riding – and that was no mean feat at times.

At the end of the trip we counted 15 flat tyres, two fractures, two nasty bruises (one to Ulzy, the Mongolian backup rider), and a whole heap of fun. Everyone extended themselves, blasted away and had a ball. Nobody wanted the days to end.

There was some dispute as to what constituted a fall, it being generally accepted that one’s legs should be astride the bike at the time of falling to qualify, but everyone came off at least once, and the record of six offs went to well, you know – what happens on tour stays on tour.

This ride was a favourite. Every single day was an adventure with great trail riding, no fences, beautiful scenery, herds of animals grazing freely, companionship, lots of laughs, fascinating cultural experiences and being looked after like royalty.

We wouldn’t have missed it for the world!

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