MONGOLIA 2006

GOBI GURVANSAIKHAN NATIONAL PARK, THE FLAMING CLIFFS AND THE SAXUAL FOREST
The next day my new guide picked me up and we drove directly to the airport for my flight to the Gobi Desert. This is my plane on the ground at Dalanzadgad, the soum center. One of a number of aerial photos I took. The land looked absolutely empty except for the occasional ger.
A pleasant touch was this flower border between the plane and the terminal. It was almost done for the year, but still added a delightful line of color along the path. The airport terminal at Dalanzadgad (Da-lan-zad-gad).
Nomadic Journey's eco-ger camp, Dungenee, on the upland area north of Gobi Gurvansaikhan National Park. The interior of my ger, furnished with the terrific traditional Mongolian vermilion furniture. The rock suspended from the roof frame is to help hold the ger down in high winds. It works.
The first excursion was to Yolym Am or Vulture Gorge, a narrow canyon where lammergeier, also known as bearded vultures, are known to live. This is the natural history museum near the trailhead. I got some locally made felt slippers in the small gift shop that really came in handy. Before we even got to the trailhead, we saw this group of ibex climbing up this slope.
And, just a few minutes later, there was a lammergeier sitting above the road in the morning sun. Great way to start the day! Into the canyon. There is a stream that flows down the canyon floor that one crosses back and forth over a number of times. There was even a small waterfall. As you can see, the canyon is very narrow. Yolyn Am used to be known for the year around ice that covered the ground. But with a combination of an ill-advised irrigation project and global warming, there were only two small slabs of very dirty ice to be seen when I was there.
When we came back out of the canyon, a local herder who is also quite an artist had set up a small display of items for sale. I would have loved to have brought home the ibex horns, but wasn't sure that it was legal and was pretty sure I couldn't have gotten them into my duffel. But I did buy a wonderful juniper root carving of an ibex, which seemed a nice momento of the ones we saw, and a small flat light-colored stone with two bactrian camels in relief on one side and a ger on the other. Gobi Gurvansaikhan National Park is one of the last refuges of the wild bactrian camel, so an image of them seemed like an appropriate souvenir. The artist was nice enough to let me take his picture.
He started to work on a new carving of a camel, also out of juniper root, which has a pleasant aromatic fragrance. A close-up of his carving knife; a simple blade mounted in a section of ibex horn.
My driver, who is also an accountant, Unuruu ("u" is pronounced like "o", so "onorow") was taken with what the Mongolians called mice, each holding a little sprig of juniper. I think that they are what we would call pikas. For the Mongols, they are a symbol of hard work, kind of how we look at bees, since the pikas can be seen in the fall busily gathering grass for the long winter. Unuruu spent so long trying to choose between them that he got seriously teased by everyone. He finally made a decision.though. So here I am on this big adventure to a "remote" country, with people at home seriously concerned that I make it back in one piece. It was a delicious bit of irony therefore that, out in the middle of the Gobi Desert, this van pulls up while we are sitting on the ground eating lunch and out spills about thirty teenagers, complete with boom box. It's a class field trip from a school in Dalanzadgad out for their own hike down the canyon. It was fun to see them, but I'll admit to being kind of glad that I’d been able to do my trek without the boom box soundtrack.

And, of course, it brought home the truth that one person's exotic locale is someone else's everyday home.
The next day I asked if there was anywhere else we could go before the afternoon trip to the Flaming Cliffs. There are almost no roads in the park and what there is isn't paved, so going anywhere takes time. There was a road that led through a pass to what my map described as "ruins". That sounded interesting, so off we went. This time the camp manager, AriunChuluun, climbed in wearing traditional Mongolian garb. I was curious but figured all would be revealed in good time. This is the entrance to Dungenee Valley. It got narrower and narrower and we passed two or three other vehicles with visitors, as many as I saw during my whole trip.
As soon as we got there, AriunChuluun went to the stupa next to the ruins and carried out a prayer ritual, which explained why he was dressed up. Part of the ruins with AriunChuluun. It was a monastery. My guide, Baaska, said that from the Chinese style of the roof tiles scattered around and the Tibetan style wall bricks, that it was probably 16th century.
A close up of the little gold buddha in a niche at the top of the stupa. AriunChuluun or "Anka". Mongolians have traditionally only had one name, but this seems to be changing as they have more and more interactions with the West.
A great group shot of, from left to right, my guide, Baasan Ochir (Baaska), Unuruu and AriunChuluun. When I asked Baaska what they would all do in the winter when the ger camp was closed, he said that he would be looking for a job, Unuruu would go back to working as an accountant and Anka was going to travel to someplace like China or Russia. And Baaska was nice enough to take a "I was here" shot of me.
There was a ger nearby with the usual dog. It was hard not to pet this one, he was so obviously friendly, but I couldn't take the risk of getting bitten. He looks to be a cross, rather common, between the traditional Tibetan mastiff that has guarded the herder's gers for centuries and a German shepherd dog. When the Soviets pulled out of Mongolia in 1991, they left their guard dogs behind, many of them, if not most, German shepherds, to fend for themselves. Now there is concern that the purebred mastiff dogs may disappear because of crossbreeding. On the way back, the guys asked me take their picture at this, the narrowest point in the canyon. We are talking a couple of inches of clearance, at best. Baaska told me that the opening was widened with explosives in 1975 so that cars could get through. Before that, I guess it would have been horses, camels or on foot.
One of two lammergeiers that circled around us on the way back. It was fun traveling with people who get as excited about seeing a bird or mammal as I do. Finally, it was time for one of my main reasons for coming to the Gobi, to see the Flaming Cliffs or, as the Mongolians call the area, Bayanzag, which means "rich in saxaul shrubs". After resting in the early afternoon, we headed north. We had driven for about an hour when we came to this pair of gers. Notice the solar panel and the big satellite dish.
Another view of one of the well-kept, tidy gers. The bare environment takes some getting used to if one is from a temperate climate where there are trees and gardens, but most of Mongolia doesn't have enough water and the herders move seasonally anyway. Once my eye adjusted, I found them visually clean and simple and just right. Some of the felt covering that goes under the canvas cover. The family was clearly getting ready to add a second or, possibly, even a third layer of felt to get ready for winter. The making of felt is an amazing, labor intensive process that involves dragging the newly-formed rolled up pieces around behind a horse for some hours. The result is light weight very effective insulation for the gers, lining for the dels and boots and materials for craft items to sell to visitors. I love my comfy felt boots with the turned up toes.
A real deal Tibetan mastiff herder's dog. Once again, I really wanted to pet him, especially with the look he had on his face, but resisted. These dogs are tough, living on whatever scraps get thrown their way and foraging for themselves. But all the ones I saw looked healthy and in good shape, but maybe a little starved for attention. Apparently, the owner of the gers keeps racing camels and horses. I was lucky enough to watch while a group of them were being moved around by a herder on a beautiful black horse.
Baaska said that it was unusual to see the mark up on the hump this way. A timeless image, nonetheless. The inside of the ger, where we were treated to the usual, but tasty milk tea.
Another view. This is the north side of the ger, where the family altar is placed. It is also where photographs and momentos are displayed. In this case, it included a string of racing medals. My hosts. Unfortunately, I didn't get their names.
Traveling on, we came to this spring. The Mongolians immediately hopped out with a cup and had a drink. I took a pass. I could too easily imagine what would happen when that water hit my digestive system. This was a surprise- a vegetable farm in the middle of the Gobi. But of course that spring makes it possible. It turns out that the best and sweetest vegetables in Mongolia come from the Gobi.
The only cat I saw in three weeks in Mongolia. There aren't very many and their presence can be interpreted as a bad omen. The Mongolians in general don't seem to like them. But this cat appeared to have it all sorted out. The dogs don't seem to be allowed in the gers, but I watched a woman shoo this cat into one. It figures, doesn't it. My first view of the Flaming Cliffs, as they were named by Roy Chapman Andrews, who led the Central Asiatic Expeditions to Mongolia in the late 1920's, and where the first fossil dinosaur eggs were found. The irony is that Andrews' main mission was to prove that humans originated in Asia, not Africa. The finding of fossils and other scientific observations were important, but somewhat secondary goals. His boss at the American Museum of Natural History, among others, didn't at all like the idea that they might be descended from black Africans, a bit of bigotry that I hope has been laid to rest.
The cliff-top with a small souvenir stand, which looked to be run by a local herder family. No fossils for sale, but I did buy some small geodes for myself and for gifts. The geodes come from 40 or so miles away.
The saxual "forest". The trees look at first like big sagebrush, but have wood so dense that it sinks when thrown in water. Unfortunately, overuse and decreasing rainfall is threatening this plant, which accounts for one quarter of Mongolia's forested area. A view of the Flaming Cliffs with saxual forest in the foreground.
One of the more interesting trees that I saw. Another great old tree with the Flaming Cliffs in the background.
There was a small lake, too. It even had a few ducks swimming around in it. We drove back to the base of the cliffs to poke around and eat a packed dinner. No one else had been here at sunset and I'm not sure they really knew what the point was, so I had to make my best guess as to where to set up. The light only lasts minutes, so there would be no time to move. This is the moon rising behind me. On the way back, Baaska said that the others really liked seeing this and the sunset on the almost endless horizon.
The color is starting up. The payoff. It was more than worth the effort to see such a famous place showing why it got its name. By the by, we were the only ones there. Not another person in sight. We had this all to ourselves. What a privilege!
Sometimes there just isn’t anything more to say. On the way back, the dog scored some leftover Khuurshuur (fried meat dumplings).
These kids were out playing and came over to check us out. I think I made them a little nervous since I looked so different from what they were used to. But they perked right up when one of the guys gave them each a Tootsie roll pop. Dungenee camp at dawn with the mountains of Gobi Gurvansaikhan in the background. Gurvansaikhan means "Three Beauties" after three of the mountains in the park.
The wind died down the last evening and I went for a very pleasant walk around the camp area. Saw lots of interesting rocks and this amazing grasshopper who was almost two inches long. The charmingly painted shipping container where the camp gers and all the equipment is stored over the winter. The idea is that when everything is packed away, other than the rings where the gers were, there is no evidence left, much less any permanent damage.

The next morning, it was off to Dalanzadgad for the flight back to UB. This time I would be in town for two nights, which would give me a full day to kick back, do laundry and see a couple of the things I hadn't gotten to before.
The view from the 11th floor corridor in my hotel, looking up Zanabazar St. toward the Gandantegchling Monastery, my goal for the morning. In the forground, you can see the ger district that lines the street leading to the monastery. The main temple in late afternoon light
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