After a few days driving around Mongolia we felt like we were finally starting to understand how the roads (read: tracks in the desert) here worked. It was, therefore, quite easy to explain away our little side trip all the way to the Russia border in Borshoo as something we actually wanted to do. True, we missed the turn to Tsagaannuur and we were quite surprised when a soldier by the Mongolian gate asked us for our passports, but it is better to rationalize it as a nice side trip rather than too admit that we still do not have a clue about the local roads.
We came back to the proper intersection and then went into the hills again. We have been told that the Northern route is nicer than the Southern, and, so far, this seems to be true. Once again, we camped at another beautiful lake (Uureg Nuur), and, once again there was nobody but us. OK, let me rephrase it a bit. There was nobody but us for about an hour. Then a huge number of horses, cows and sheep arrived, driven by two dogs and two kids on horses; a boy of about ten and a girl perhaps two years older. At least once in my lifetime I would like to be as good at something, at anything, as these two were at handling their horses and the huge herd of animals. Luckily, they drove the herd away from our tents. And thus we can happily report that no cow ate our Trabant.
The Altai in Western Mongolia is quite beautiful. It reminds me a bit greener Nevada with more creeks and lakes and more mountains. It is the same high desert as Nevada close to Reno is, but in here one can see a lot of white gers and nomads, most of them moving their gers by little trucks. However, some nomads are more traditional - we met some of them moving their ger on the backs of camels and horses.
The only thing I miss here is any meaningful communication with the local people. Even in the cities it is quite difficult to find anyone who speaks basic English or Russian. And, unfortunately, neither one of us has any knowledge of the Mongolian language. And so we communicate with our hands using the international signs for "eat", "where", etc. Um, at least we got some interesting foods to eat here by pointing on the line in the menu without knowing whether we are ordering an exquisite meal or just one additional serving of rice. Fortunately, some of the menus have pictures and sometimes we get the server to order for us by using an advanced levels of hand signs. In general though, the Mongolians seem to be very nice and since they did not see a Trabant before, there is always a few admirers every time we stop.
We came back to the proper intersection and then went into the hills again. We have been told that the Northern route is nicer than the Southern, and, so far, this seems to be true. Once again, we camped at another beautiful lake (Uureg Nuur), and, once again there was nobody but us. OK, let me rephrase it a bit. There was nobody but us for about an hour. Then a huge number of horses, cows and sheep arrived, driven by two dogs and two kids on horses; a boy of about ten and a girl perhaps two years older. At least once in my lifetime I would like to be as good at something, at anything, as these two were at handling their horses and the huge herd of animals. Luckily, they drove the herd away from our tents. And thus we can happily report that no cow ate our Trabant.
The Altai in Western Mongolia is quite beautiful. It reminds me a bit greener Nevada with more creeks and lakes and more mountains. It is the same high desert as Nevada close to Reno is, but in here one can see a lot of white gers and nomads, most of them moving their gers by little trucks. However, some nomads are more traditional - we met some of them moving their ger on the backs of camels and horses.
The only thing I miss here is any meaningful communication with the local people. Even in the cities it is quite difficult to find anyone who speaks basic English or Russian. And, unfortunately, neither one of us has any knowledge of the Mongolian language. And so we communicate with our hands using the international signs for "eat", "where", etc. Um, at least we got some interesting foods to eat here by pointing on the line in the menu without knowing whether we are ordering an exquisite meal or just one additional serving of rice. Fortunately, some of the menus have pictures and sometimes we get the server to order for us by using an advanced levels of hand signs. In general though, the Mongolians seem to be very nice and since they did not see a Trabant before, there is always a few admirers every time we stop.