A Mongolian Adventure:
Now if like me, you like the outdoors, you like walking, you like big sky scenery, you like remote places, away from the madding crowd, and you have photography as a hobby, where do you go to combine the best of that wish list.
Well I guess there’s many places that fulfil those criteria; the Himalayas for a start, and I’m sure you can all think of somewhere that you’ve been or would like to go that also fulfil those criteria. I have been lucky enough to have visited the Himalayas three times, I done the Three Peaks four times, I’ve run an ultra-marathon in Iceland, I've walked in the Atlas mountains in Morocco, I’ve walked the coast-to-coast, I’ve climbed Kilimanjaro, although that doesn’t really qualify under “far from the madding crowd”, but all wonderful scenic travels, so we’re narrowing it down a bit.
SUMMIT of TSERKO RI, LANGTANG, NEPAL, 2013
The hankering to go to Mongolia was created by two things really, firstly "The Steppe", it's endlessly vast, it's mountainous, it's treeless, and it's largely nomadic. And the major plus, it's way off the beaten track for the vast majority of travellers. Secondly I kept seeing photographs and films about a remote group of nomads who caught, trained and hunted with golden eagles, and I thought just how iconic those images were, I wanted to take some myself.
THE MONGOLIAN STEPPE
KHIZIBEKH - CHAMPION EAGLE HUNTER
These nomads live in Western Mongolia, the Bayan-Olgii Airmag to be precise, and are ethnically Kazakh and Muslim, rather than Mongolian and Buddhist. There are around 100,000 of this ethnic group, in a population of under three million, in a country of over 600,000 square miles (France is 211K & UK 94K square miles), so over six times the size of the UK, and where half of that population live in or around the capital Ulaan Baatar (which we will call UB from now on).
ASIA
So where exactly is Mongolia, and how did it become the sovereign state it is today? Until 1911, when it gained its independence from the dying Manchu Empire, it was part of China, known as Outer Mongolia, a by-word for remote. In 1921 Mongolia was briefly occupied by “White Russian Cossacks”, but led by a warrior called Sukhbaatar (the main square in UB is now named after him), and aided by Russian Bolsheviks, it regained its independence and eventually became the second communist country in the world following the revolution of 1924. However, until 1996 when the Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party was swept aside by a new western influenced United Democratic Coalition, Mongolia was dominated culturally, economically and politically by the Soviet Union. Inner Mongolia, a by-word for not quite so remote, remains part of China to this day.
MONGOLIA
The Kazakh population has declined since the fall of communism, as families have been attracted back to Kazakhstan with the promise of work and housing, and an end to the tough nomadic existence. However, ‘twas ever thus, and the rural Mongolian Kazakhs found themselves second class citizens in the towns and cities in Kazakhstan, ending up in menial unskilled jobs, or no jobs at all. Unsurprisingly many of those families hankered after the nomadic life, and so returned to Bayan-Olgii, and the population now remains fairly stable.
One of the major issues now with the number of nomadic families and the size of their herds, is over-grazing, and they need to roam ever further to find feed for their animals. Typically a nomadic family can take their ger down and pack all their belongings onto the back of a truck in a couple of hours, and might live in four or five locations during the year, seeking out grazing and then either retiring to a nearby village for the winter, or living in an insulated log cabin in a sheltered location, burning yak dung on the stove for the duration.
NOMADIC HERD ON THE MOVE
My visit was timed to end up at the Altai Eagle Festival, a weekend jamboree where the eagle hunting fraternity come in their Sunday best to display their hunting skills and horsemanship, and they’re pretty impressive horsemen & women. It’s also an excuse to meet old friends and make new ones and generally have a knees up.
THE ALTAI EAGLE FESTIVAL at SAGSAI
With a home stay of three days with an eagle hunting family before the festival, this was still too short for such a remote trip, and so we added a four day trek in the Altai just to get the feel of the place to start with. The Altai stretch from Siberia in the north, down to the Gobi desert in the south.
So how do you get to Western Mongolia? I found a company, Goyo Travel, owned by a British guy and his Mongolian wife, who specialise in organising tours exclusively to Mongolia, and their set up I felt was ideal for such a trip, and so it proved. My first ever Aeroflot flight took me three hours from London to Moscow, and then six hours from Moscow to UB. My overriding memory of these two flights was the leg room, or severe lack of it. I cannot remember a flight where I’ve had less, even those charter flights to Spain & Tenerife.
ULAAN BAATAR INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
We arrived in Ulaan Baatar as the sun rose, and the views across the valley in which the city sits were stunning. The most notables features however being the four old coal-fired power stations that keep the place running year round and warm in winter. UB has the dubious pleasure of being the coldest capital city in the world, with temperatures dropping to -40C during the winter. This puts a tremendous strain on those power stations, which generate the most awful pollution, with the smoke sitting over a windless city. Our guide from out west, said he had visited UB only once during winter and he likened it to someone standing on his chest.
Since the fall of communism in the early 1990s, the Mongolian economy has been developing fast, with good growth driven by the abundance of mineral resources under the Gobi Desert and other parts of the country; gold, copper, zinc and more. One mine, Oyu Tolgoi, will eventually become the largest copper mine in the world, and even today represents nearly one third of Mongolia’s GDP. The challenge for Mongolia is to manage the massive benefits that this wealth can bring with the upheaval of traditionally nomadic people from the Gobi, ensuring that that wealth filters down through the population.
THE DEVELOPING ULAAN BAATAR
UB is developing fast with tower cranes seemingly everywhere, as Mongolians start to experience the benefits of the boom. Already shanty towns have developed around UB as more and more people move into the city and leave their nomadic life behind. Having said that, it is estimated that the nomadic proportion of the population is still over 30%.
Anyway enough of that stuff, just enough to give you a flavour; we spent two days in UB, and I have to say, that was plenty, even before winter had arrived. We did venture about 35 miles outside UB for an afternoon of one of those days, and if you watched Joanna Lumley’s train journey from Beijing to Moscow, you’ll know why. En route she dropped off in Mongolia and visited the ever so slightly overstated statue of Genghis Khan, or more correctly Chinggis Khan, which is exactly what we did.
THE CHINGGIS KHAN STATUE
In the vast expanse of the plain outside Ulaan Baatar, this statue, made from stainless steel and standing over 130 feet high, seems appropriate, after all this guy did conquer half the globe and create the largest empire the world has ever seen. And yes he looks fearsome, but then if you’ve killed some 25M people in the process I guess you’re entitled to. As well as admiring him from the outside you can climb the stairs up the horse’s neck and meet him face to face; then down again to find a museum beneath the statue.
CHINGGIS CLOSE UP
The other two highlights of Ulaan Baatar are a visit to Gandan monastery, and Sukhbaatar Square which houses the National Museum. Tens of thousands of Buddhist monks were slaughtered in the Communist purges of the 1930s. Gandan monastery, like most other monasteries was laid waste. Apparently when US Vice President Henry Wallace visited in 1944, and asked to see a monastery, to save face Mongolian President Choibalsan had to hastily refurbish and open Gandan, having been the perpetrator of the Stalin inspired purges. Not until the 1990s, and the end of Communism, have the Mongolian people openly practiced Buddhism again.
GANDAN MONASTERY, ULAAN BAATAR
SUKHBAATAR SQUARE, ULAAN BAATAR
Our last evening in UB was memorable for the cultural show that usually draws the yawns, this one anything but. The Tumen Ekh ensemble performed a wonderful array of local dance and music, but the two highlights were the Mongolian/Tuvan throat-singing, or "khoomei", and the female contortionist.
Difficult to describe, impossible for anyone but a local to practice, the throat singer produces a fundamental pitch and simultaneously, one or more pitches over that, effectively generating both a rhythm and a melody. It would also be impossible to contort as this young lady did, she was world class IMHO. You know they’re really good when you have to watch through your fingers and wince as unimaginable contortions are created.
THE TUMEN EKH ENSEMBLE
THE CONTORTIONIST
Our time in UB ended with a very early departure via Aero Mongolia to Bayan-Olgii, a three hour flight out west. A very comfortable flight after our Aeroflot experience and met by our guide for the next 12 days Nurbolat Len, or Nurbie the Small. A guy, just 24, speaking excellent English, he and his small team were the perfect hosts, and we had great fun, as will be revealed.
AERO MONGOLIA TO BAYAN-OLGII AIRPORT
As you can see to get anywhere remotely remote, you have to be prepared to travel uncomfortable, or relish the discomfort, I chose the latter. Our transport for the next six and a half hours, or 12 days really, was an ex-Russian military off road vehicle, the famous UAZ-469, (Ulyanovsky Automobilny Zavod), which in the hands of Nurbolat the Large (there were two of them and the bigger one was our driver), reached speeds of over 50 mph cross country. You run out of metalled roads very quickly in Mongolia and one can only be impressed with the very low centre of gravity of the vehicle, the only feature that stopped the vehicle rolling over at every turn.
THE UAZ-469
When I visit a new country for the first time I usually try to find some reading material about that country, (other than Lonely Planet, which is mandatory anyway) and this trip was no exception. After a good search on Amazon, I have downloaded “Hearing Birds Fly” by Louisa Waugh. Albeit a little old now, having been written in 1998, Louisa had been working in UB for two years, speaking fluent Mongolian when she chose to spend a year “out west”, in Bayan-Olgii airmag, in a medium sized village called Tsengel, teaching English to local children. Having said that I doubt life has changed that much in the last 18 years.
TSENGEL
Louisa starts the introduction to her book with these insights:-
The word "Tsengel" means delight. This still seems a bizarre almost mocking name for my former home; an unlit, windswept village where death and life were so raw, crude and compelling. The winter livestock massacre, carried out so that the villagers could survive until Spring, is the most explicit example of how people live with death out here on the arid central Asian steppe....and goes on to say...
then I'd talk about the beautiful, treacherous, Hovd river which flanks Tsengel, and drowns at least one or two of its people every year!
I had started to read this book on the flight out to Mongolia, and was 20% or so in by the time we arrived in Bayan-Olgii. Two to three hours into our drive out to Tavan Bogd National Park, the location for our four day trek, we stop at a beautiful spot on the far side of a river from a medium sized village for a picnic lunch. Nurbie tells everyone that over the river is the village of Tsengel, and I say, “Oh!, this must be the River Hovd then”. Initially Nurbie is amazed that I am so geographically aware, but sharp as a tack says, are you reading “that book”.
The word "Tsengel" means delight. This still seems a bizarre almost mocking name for my former home; an unlit, windswept village where death and life were so raw, crude and compelling. The winter livestock massacre, carried out so that the villagers could survive until Spring, is the most explicit example of how people live with death out here on the arid central Asian steppe....and goes on to say...
then I'd talk about the beautiful, treacherous, Hovd river which flanks Tsengel, and drowns at least one or two of its people every year!
I had started to read this book on the flight out to Mongolia, and was 20% or so in by the time we arrived in Bayan-Olgii. Two to three hours into our drive out to Tavan Bogd National Park, the location for our four day trek, we stop at a beautiful spot on the far side of a river from a medium sized village for a picnic lunch. Nurbie tells everyone that over the river is the village of Tsengel, and I say, “Oh!, this must be the River Hovd then”. Initially Nurbie is amazed that I am so geographically aware, but sharp as a tack says, are you reading “that book”.
LUNCH OUTSIDE TSENGEL
I found the book a wonderful read, beautifully capturing local society, the trials and tribulations of living in such a demanding location, and the “under the radar” tensions between the Kazaks and the Tuvans, the other main ethnic group in this area. And of course it described very well the area I was visiting and enabling me to gain a slightly deeper insight than can be gleaned from a mere two weeks visiting. If you want to learn a little more about this fascinating region and its inhabitants then I would highly recommend this book.
Now I should introduce the other member of the team looking after us, Kadu, a shy 21 year old girl, and our cook for the duration. What she couldn’t rustle up in half an hour was not worth worrying about. Whenever we pitched camp she would have a hot meal on the table within the hour, and I have to say that for two full weeks my digestive system worked better than it does back in Rutland, no small thing when you’re constantly on the move.
KADU & NURBOLAT IN THE MESS TENT
Our destination for the four day trek was the far west, Tavan Bogd National Park, where the steppe meets the Altai with its 4,000m plus peaks. Translated Tavan Bogd means “Five Peaks”, the highest of which, Khuiten Uul, or Cold Mountain, reaches over 4,300m. The first two nights’ camps were spent next to the home of one of our two Tuvan camel drivers. Next to a gurgling stream and with snow capped mountains as a backdrop, it seemed like Nirvana. For the next four days all our gear, plus the mess tent, food and cooking equipment would be carried on the back of two camels, each complete with a driver.
TAVAN BOGD NATIONAL PARK
So far I haven’t mentioned my companions for this trip, Lee & Jerry. I have known them both for nearly 25 years, Lee a lot better than Jerry. After meeting at Cambridge, they set up a management training and development company which has just celebrated it 25th anniversary. Lee did a lot of consultancy work with my old employer, Pedigree Petfoods, and having kept in touch with him, we met up again two years ago when he joined me and another couple of ex-Pedigree colleagues on a trip to the Himalayas. Lee is at home in the mountains having climbed in the Alps as a younger man, although he’s still young by our standards, a mere 48, as is Jerry. Jerry emigrated to Australia to start a branch of their business in Sydney, and this trip was the first time I had seen him in 18 years; we all got on fine, Lee, an insomniac in his own tent, and Jerry and I sharing.
YOURS TRULY, LEE & JERRY
The food we ate paid great respect to our Western diet, with bread, coffee, tea, chocolate, eggs, fruit, vegetables, pasta, cornflakes and something that could almost pass as bacon. Pretty impressive for a country where there are no trees, no pigs, and no chickens to speak of. The local diet is largely meat (goat and lamb), most things diary, and that’s about all. On the liquid front we did manage to stock up on beer as we left Olgii, and the vodka, or airakh, was supplied locally.
One meat item to steer very clear of however, is marmot, a medium size squirrel like animal. They are still hunted and to prove it we come across a marmot skin staked out on the ground to dry. Nurbie explains that this practice has been outlawed but in remote regions like Bayan-Olgii, still goes on. So what's the problem, the answer is bubonic plague. Marmots in Mongolia can carry fleas infected with plague, and so apparently if you plan on having a marmot barbecue you should be sure that you trust whoever is preparing the meat. The cooking process usually kills any bugs unlucky enough not to have escaped with the skin. Fortunately Kadu did not have marmot on the menu, but a death recently in Kyrgyrstan where a young boy ate barbecued marmot back in 2013 caused consternation about the return of the plague.
THE FOOD IN CAMP
One meat item to steer very clear of however, is marmot, a medium size squirrel like animal. They are still hunted and to prove it we come across a marmot skin staked out on the ground to dry. Nurbie explains that this practice has been outlawed but in remote regions like Bayan-Olgii, still goes on. So what's the problem, the answer is bubonic plague. Marmots in Mongolia can carry fleas infected with plague, and so apparently if you plan on having a marmot barbecue you should be sure that you trust whoever is preparing the meat. The cooking process usually kills any bugs unlucky enough not to have escaped with the skin. Fortunately Kadu did not have marmot on the menu, but a death recently in Kyrgyrstan where a young boy ate barbecued marmot back in 2013 caused consternation about the return of the plague.
MARMOT SKIN STAKED OUT TO DRY
Now I know the question that is always asked next, whether it’s to mountain climbers, astronauts, or just old people, practicalities, what about the toilet facilities on a trip like this. Well a latrine tent is pitched and a hole is dug at each camp site. The hole is big enough to take the waste for the duration of the stay. Next to the hole is the earth that has been removed, plus a small shovel. As the hole is utilised, so it is filled in again, very clean and pretty hygienic compared with some of the permanent facilities we came across where is can be extremely difficult not to gag; however one does have to learn to “crouch”. Another tip for the elderly man travelling in such a manner, essential I would say to help dispense with all that beer in the middle of the night, is always travel with a wide necked plastic bottle, a bit like a long distance lorry driver.
THE TARDIS
And so after a hearty breakfast of cornflakes and beautiful warm yak’s milk followed by egg and nearly bacon, plus coffee and bread and jam, we’re off. The window for visiting Mongolia is quite small, just 4-5 months, and mid-September is getting close to the end of the season, and ahead lies four days of trekking. As it turns out, the four days comprise four seasons of weather, and Day One is summer. A cobalt blue sky, light winds and tee-shirt warm. We pass one nomadic family with a large head of livestock, goats and sheep, plus two small girls, one as blonde as a Scandinavian (jokingly referred to as "tourist child"), of no more than three or four. Today we are walking up to the Potanin Glacier, and as close as we get to the border with Russia and China; in fact we can see a small peak near the top of the glacier called Friendship Peak, where the borders of the three countries meet.
THE POTANIN GLACIER (FRIENDSHIP PEAK at REAR)
The vistas are spectacular, and we meet just one person the whole day. A local gentleman on horseback, late fifties we’re told, and Tuvan, rather than Kazakh, not that you can tell the difference, but obviously Nurbie does. As the guy rides off Nurbie explains that most Tuvans practice Shamanism, the animistic religion of northern Asia, embracing a belief in powerful spirits that can be influenced only by shamans through contact with the spirit world; it turns out they also practice euthanasia, and when a Tuvan reaches a point in their life when pain is unbearable and/or death is near they will be bled out to end their life. Our gentleman on horseback is a practitioner, and on his way to visit a client.
THE TUVAN VISITOR
The Republic of Tuva is actually in Russia, on the northern border on Mongolia where it meets Siberia, and a good quiz question would be, “what is the capital of Tuva”, the answer of course is Kyzyl. Until 1944, Tuva was an independent nation, when it voluntarily chose to become part of the Soviet Union, although the circumstances surrounded that little bit of history remain obscure.
Enough of the history, let’s get on with the trek. Day Two is spring and although still sunny, the temperature drops a bit and the winds start to increase. The highlight of the day is horse-sitting, I say sitting because although the photos suggest Indiana Jones style horse riding, the nag wouldn’t move for me without being towed by Nurbie or Kadu, and so we only horse sat to cross the small rivers and streams we encountered through the day to avoid getting our feet wet.
HORSE SITTING WITH JERRY
As the wind increases, we spend the day looking for Siberian Ibex and 3,000 year old petroglyphs. I’m led to believe we saw the Ibex at the range of some two miles or so, I say led to believe because my eyesight is good, but not that good, and these animals have a very good sense of smell, maybe we’re beginning to smell a little. The petroglyphs remind me of home, and our art market in Stamford, just another way of budding artists of the day to display their talents, here on the rocks as we search for our camp sight for the night. There’s lots of child like drawings of animals, mostly goats, cows and sheep, well they’d never seen a pig or a chicken had they, and there may have been a yak or two!
ANCIENT PETROGLYPHS
By the time we stop for the night the wind is howling and it remains so all night. I wonder if the tent will depart and leave us in our sleeping bags by the side of the river. But no, all the tents are still there in the morning, as is the mess tent and the Tardis. The trek today takes us over a high pass, the highest point of our trek, and by the time we reach the top, the view is magnificent, as the last of the sun for the day picks out a range of browns and ochres in the valley below. We meet the only other western people we see on our four day trek, a group of miserable Austrians descending, fortunately travelling in the opposite direction to us.
THE VIEW FROM TSAAGAN HAIRHAN UUL
All trips have their low points and today was the low point of this trip, cold, raining and gale force winds, so we called it autumn. Tomorrow it would snow, so we called that winter.
After around seven hours walking we reach what must have been the most remote stop of the whole trip, amazingly next to a river. There’s an old earth floored, log refuge for animals where we shelter from the rain until our tents are pitched by our amazing guides and there’s boiling water for tea and coffee, and hot food is on the way.
COLD & WET
After around seven hours walking we reach what must have been the most remote stop of the whole trip, amazingly next to a river. There’s an old earth floored, log refuge for animals where we shelter from the rain until our tents are pitched by our amazing guides and there’s boiling water for tea and coffee, and hot food is on the way.
CAMPSITE IN BEAR VALLEY
So one more day and the trek comes to an end, with heavy snow for most of the day, so much that Nurbie decides camping in the park tonight risks us not getting out tomorrow. We drive to the park entrance where he negotiates a night staying inside the ranger station, a cavernous, if somewhat draughty building with three old small iron single beds at one end. The ranger removes his and his teams bedding as we unpack our sleeping bags. Only the bedding on the third bed isn’t all bedding, as we discover a young soldier from the nearby barracks; he’d snuck in for a kip, absolutely blathered after an afternoon on the vodka. The rangers pick him up and he’s sent packing, or should I say staggering off into the snow. After that, Kadu makes some homemade fried pasties which we consume in no time around the hot stove, and then it’s time for dinner.
LUXURY at THE PARK RANGER STATION
And so our four day trek comes to and end, and it’s back into the UAZ for a ride back to Olgii, and time for a shower. For less than 50p we have a full hour of piping hot water at the local public showers, in our own personal cubicle. The décor is as it was from the Soviet influenced days, luminous green, with paint flaking off the walls. Not just a shower, but a shave as well and a change of clothes, wonderful! Off over the road to the supermarket to stock up on essentials like beer, and lager and some more beer.
THE PUBLIC SHOWERS in OLGII
The town of Olgii is predominantly Kazakh and seems to be more Central Asia than Mongolia. There are Arabic signs as well as Kazakh Cyrillic, and you can get shashlik in the market and the restaurants; the people here look bright and well clothed and you do not get any sense of the poverty that can prevail in some parts of Central Asia, surprising given how remote this place is. Mongolia is rightly famous for its cashmere wool and guess what, Olgii has an outlet store, would you have believed it. Before we leave we meet up with the last member of our group for the remainder of the trip, a young American lady called Natasha. In her mid-20s, she’s a digital artist, and accomplished horsewoman, she tells us.
Before we leave Olgii we have a restaurant meal, and the best thing of all is that the place has Wifi. Now I have an Android phone with me, and Lorna has an iPad with her in Florida, where she is volunteering at the amazing "Give Kids the World". We're about twelve hours apart in time zones, so it's about 4am where she is as we finish our meal and ready ourselves to go. Now this is where the technology amazes me; Apple devices have Facetime, but Android devices don't, but they do have Facebook, and Facebook has Messenger, and with Messenger, as long as you have Wifi you can make a call to a Facetime device, even a video call if you have strong enough Wifi, simples. So I do, and the call is remarkable clear, me with my mobile phone in Mongolia and Lorna on her iPad in Florida, and here's the amazing bit, it doesn't cost a cent.
Before we leave Olgii we have a restaurant meal, and the best thing of all is that the place has Wifi. Now I have an Android phone with me, and Lorna has an iPad with her in Florida, where she is volunteering at the amazing "Give Kids the World". We're about twelve hours apart in time zones, so it's about 4am where she is as we finish our meal and ready ourselves to go. Now this is where the technology amazes me; Apple devices have Facetime, but Android devices don't, but they do have Facebook, and Facebook has Messenger, and with Messenger, as long as you have Wifi you can make a call to a Facetime device, even a video call if you have strong enough Wifi, simples. So I do, and the call is remarkable clear, me with my mobile phone in Mongolia and Lorna on her iPad in Florida, and here's the amazing bit, it doesn't cost a cent.
WI-FI AVAILABLE HERE
Home for the next three nights is a sizeable ger next to our hosts. Botei and his family have a large herd of goats, sheep, some cattle and a few yaks, so a family of some means. The family unit consists of Botei, his wife, his father and three children, the eldest of whom is a boy of sixteen, and following in his father’s footsteps, learning to hunt with eagles.
Grandfather is around 80 years old, has been a nationally famous eagle hunter, and has a very famous granddaughter, Asher Pan; she will feature in an American film documentary some time in 2016. She is the first female to gain celebrity status as an eagle hunter, and at just 13 years old, has already won competitions in Mongolia and represented her country at falconry competitions in the Middle East; we are delighted to meet her at the end of our stay.
MEETING ASHER PAN (IN PINK) AS WE LEAVE THE FAMILY
We are royally treated over the next three days, and every time we’re invited into Botei’s ger, the table is laden with food. Nomadic food is primarily derived from cattle, sheep, horses and yaks. Meat and especially lots of fat are included to keep the cold out during the long winters. Aaruul, or dehydrated curdled milk is a favourite, and definitely something to get your teeth into, albeit a taste I would rather forget. Boortsog was one of my favourites, like a doughnut fried in oil, along with buuz, a dumpling stuffed with meat. Then of course there is Airakh, the national drink, also known as kumis, fermented mares milk with a strength of around 7%, and the local vodka which Botei plies us with one evening.
BOTEI & THE EAGLE
BOTEI'S FAMILY
Grandfather is around 80 years old, has been a nationally famous eagle hunter, and has a very famous granddaughter, Asher Pan; she will feature in an American film documentary some time in 2016. She is the first female to gain celebrity status as an eagle hunter, and at just 13 years old, has already won competitions in Mongolia and represented her country at falconry competitions in the Middle East; we are delighted to meet her at the end of our stay.
We are royally treated over the next three days, and every time we’re invited into Botei’s ger, the table is laden with food. Nomadic food is primarily derived from cattle, sheep, horses and yaks. Meat and especially lots of fat are included to keep the cold out during the long winters. Aaruul, or dehydrated curdled milk is a favourite, and definitely something to get your teeth into, albeit a taste I would rather forget. Boortsog was one of my favourites, like a doughnut fried in oil, along with buuz, a dumpling stuffed with meat. Then of course there is Airakh, the national drink, also known as kumis, fermented mares milk with a strength of around 7%, and the local vodka which Botei plies us with one evening.
But before any of this, tea, great pots of steaming hot milky tea, drunk from a bowl, and if you’re really “in-country” taken with salt and butter; the locals drink this stuff by the gallon, and no greeting or meeting is complete without tea. This hospitality is standard practice within the nomadic community and it allows them to travel so effectively across the vast steppe, knowing that food, drink and shelter is always available at the next ger.
The family ger is a warm and comfortable refuge from the outside world. Everyone has a bed, and the ger is decorated with beautiful carpets around the wall and over the floor. In the centre of the ger is the stove, fuelled by yak dung and occasionally wood, although wood is a rare commodity. It provides hot food and a warm environment for family and visitors alike. Their ger is also adorned with medals, photographs and other memorabilia, relating to both the family and their eagle hunting exploits.
The family ger is a warm and comfortable refuge from the outside world. Everyone has a bed, and the ger is decorated with beautiful carpets around the wall and over the floor. In the centre of the ger is the stove, fuelled by yak dung and occasionally wood, although wood is a rare commodity. It provides hot food and a warm environment for family and visitors alike. Their ger is also adorned with medals, photographs and other memorabilia, relating to both the family and their eagle hunting exploits.
WE'RE WELCOMED IN BOTEI'S FAMILY GER
And so to hunting with golden eagles; the eagles are not bred in captivity, but taken from nests at a young age. Female eaglets are chosen since they grow to a larger size, and are believed to be more aggressive (no change there then). A large adult might be as heavy as seven to ten kilos, with a wingspan of over 230cm. After around seven years of service, on a spring morning, a hunter releases his mature eagle a final time, leaving a butchered sheep on the mountain as a farewell present. That's how the Kazakh eagle hunters make sure that the eagles go back to nature and have their own strong newborns, for the sake of future generations, living as long as 20 years.
The eaglets are taken straight from the nest so that they haven’t had time to learn fear, or to be selective regarding what prey they might attempt to take. The hunter will keep the eaglet hooded and tethered, feeding it only enough to keep it alive. This way when the eagle is taken on training sessions it does not have sufficient strength to escape, and knowing where its source of food comes from, remains with the hunter. When the eagle catches some prey, perhaps a rabbit or more likely a fox, the hunter will allow it a small feed, but will not allow the eagle to devour its prey.
BOTEI'S EAGLE OUTSIDE THE FAMILY GER
Over the next couple of days, with Lee, Jerry & I on foot and Natasha on horseback, we follow Botei and his son as they seek out some prey. When it happens, it happens very quickly, having trekked to the top of an escarpment behind those on horseback, the fox is spotted, the eagles of father and son are released and the fox is caught in the bat of an eyelid.
THE EAGLE IS RELEASED
Once we had descended down the far side of the escarpment, Botei was skinning the fox and inviting his eagle for a small taste of victory. After that a rope was attached to the fox and away from the eagle, dragged across the hillside to tempt the eagle again. In this manner they continue to train the eagle and it is this practice that forms the basis of eagle hunting competitions. Prey, or more likely just a fox skin is dragged across open ground, and the eagle released from some distance; the time taken for the eagle to find and set upon the prey is recorded for each of the competitors. At the festival we visited, the eagle was released from the top of a hillside adjacent to the arena, and from memory each hunter has three runs of his eagle.
[Interestingly, the use of live prey no longer occurs at this particular festival out of deference to the western tourists who visit. Sad really that the local tradition should be dumbed down to suit us, but the main sponsor of the festival is a travel company, and commercial consideration trumps tradition. However the larger festival in Olgii still finishes with the top three eagles finally competing for a live fox or rabbit, and if you’ve seen a kill on safari, then an eagle killing a rabbit shouldn’t disturb too much].
THE EAGLE SHOWBOATS OVER HER PREY
Today is the day that Jerry takes his leave, he only had time for just over a week, and so we say our farewells. We have talked about a trip in 2016 to Bhutan, and that is firmly lodged in my mind to get researching when I get home. We use the morning to walk to a rocky outcrop, where hunters would typically look for eagle nests. They will be very high up and extremely inaccessible, but there will be a give-away white streak down the rock below the nest, where the mother has spent much time feeding the chick, and pooing at the same time. The nest at this time of the year was empty, but in getting close we again have time to gaze in wonder at the vastness of the steppe in this region. The day is completed with a hike back to the family residence in the valley by the river.
THE INACCESSIBLE EAGLE'S NEST
As our home stay comes to an end, Botei gets out his best eagle hunting coat and hat, the one he competes in. The coat is made from the fur of three wolves, and is complete with the three tails still attached at the back. The hat is similarly made from wolf fur, and we take it in turns to pose in the full regalia complete with Botei’s eagle for some memorable photographs. Our final evening gets lively with vodka, singing, vodka, dancing and vodka, all to Gangnam Style by Psi; they all think it’s a hoot seeing us prancing around.
We say our farewells, and it feels like we have made good friends. I ask Botei what makes a good tourist, he looks at me, takes his hat off and points to his balding head, an exact copy of mine. I take that as a compliment, and we take a few last photographs.
It gets a bit emotional for Botei's father, as he dons his best jacket complete with a fine array of medals and hugs Natasha with tears in his eyes. I suspect at around 80, where the average male does well to reach 65, he doesn't think he has too many farewells left. I leave promising to send some of the photographs we have taken back to the family, a promise I aim to keep (see final paragraph).
Another journey in the UAZ, again via Olgii for a shower and some more provisions, well more beer really. Our campsite is in the middle of a vast plain, next to a river, and several miles outside the village of Sagsai, the location of the weekend Eagle Festival. Three other couples join us for the Festival weekend and our campsite consists of a total of seven gers which we watch being erected by the local tour operator and his team.
THE SAME HAIRSTYLES
It gets a bit emotional for Botei's father, as he dons his best jacket complete with a fine array of medals and hugs Natasha with tears in his eyes. I suspect at around 80, where the average male does well to reach 65, he doesn't think he has too many farewells left. I leave promising to send some of the photographs we have taken back to the family, a promise I aim to keep (see final paragraph).
FAREWELLS
OUR GERS BEING ERECTED
As we prepare to leave for the festival on the first morning we are joined by Chokan, an eagle hunter and his eagle, and he hitches a ride with us in the UAZ, the eagle on his arm outside the passenger window. This upsets the eagle and so she comes inside with the rest of us, great fun.
Having anticipated this two days festival for some considerable time now, it’s not held in a stadium, or an arena, but a number of gers are erected and a few old lorries parked and used for a stage and to hold the PA system. A market springs up selling local arts and crafts and gradually the competitors and their families begin to arrive, most riding across the plain from afar. The crowd increases, almost equally split between local people and ageing western travellers. You can tell the travellers from the size of their camera lenses.
THE SITE OF THE ALTAI EAGLE FESTIVAL
Given that this trip was for me predominantly a photographic trip I had spent hours and hours agonising what equipment I should take. My regular DSLR is heavy and when accompanied by four of five lenses, bulky as well. It was impractical to take everything on a trip like this, and so I opted for just three cameras, each with their own lens. A small pocket Sony Cybershot, which resided on my belt for the complete trip, and was always ready at a moment’s notice. I had recently purchased the fantastic Fuji X100T, a 23mm fixed focal length super-advanced digital camera, but I wasn’t sufficiently confident that I could get the action I wanted at the festival. Consequently the third camera, carefully packed with a stabilised 24-105mm zoom, was my trusty Canon 50D, and this is what I used to take the festival images. With the Fuji I took many of the landscape shots, as well as the photo shoot with Botei, his family and his eagle.
THE VIEW FROM OUR FESTIVAL CAMPSITE
The Sony took the rest, and in particular the shots of the three eagle hunters returning from the festival, and passing through our campsite; this was completely unexpected, and I only had time to grab the Sony on my belt, but it takes great pictures, sufficiently good to get a second place in the Telegraph weekly travel photography competition.
THE VICTORS
The festival got under way with a grand parade of the 30-40 competitors, displaying their eagles as they rode past the event organisers and judges. The eagles are carried by the hunters on a leather gloved hand, whilst the hand rests on a forked stay connected to the saddle, known as a “baldark”. The festival comprised a whole range of competitive events, from the spectacular eagle hunting, to kyz kuar, the hilarious horseback husband chasing, to the bizarre buzkashi and even camel racing.
THE OPENING PARADE
I think buzkashi needs some explanation; translated literally it means “goat dragging”, and dates back to Turkic times. There are variants of the game, and it is the national sport in Afghanistan, where it is more like polo, with teams of horsemen trying to get a headless goat across a “goal-line”. At our festival the competition was between two horsemen, each trying to pull the goat away from one another, so in effect a headless goat tug-o-war. There is no time limit, nor space limitations to the challenge, and no heed is paid to the watching crowd, who were regularly scattered as the two competitors struggled violently with one another, some getting lost in the vastness of the surrounding steppe.
The winner is the guy who stays on his horse and ends up with the goat, which is then flung ceremoniously on the ground in front of the crowd ready for the next challenge.
BUZKASHI
Kyz Kuar is believed to date back to the time of Chinggis, when marauding hordes stole the local women by grabbing hold of the reins of their horses, while the women tried to escape by beating the warrior with a leather whip to free themselves, although I suspect with a look of fear, rather than the relish they did it with at Sagsai.
KYZ KUAR
Collecting coins and flowers laid in a line along the ground whilst riding at full tilt also ably demonstrated the fantastic horsemanship of the competitors. Having said that, the Mongolian horses are little more than ponies as far as size is concerned, averaging typically between 12 and 14 hands. They are though, stocky and very strong, able to gallop across the steppe for great distances. A Mongolian hunter on horseback seems to be the opposite of a jockey on a thoroughbred racehorse, a big man on a small horse versus a small man on a large horse; racehorses are typically around 16 hands high.
COLLECTING FLOWERS
Now I thought the camel racing would be fairly sedate, not so, they really went for it, with two camels and riders crashing very nicely in front of the assembled western paparazzi, but all was well and camels and riders were soon up and off again.
CAMEL RACING GETS COMPETITIVE
The eagle hunting competition goes on in the background throughout the two days and in some ways is not as dramatic as the horsemanship competitions, but is of course what drew everyone her in the first place. Some of the eagles are very erratic, maybe it's too windy, or not cold enough yet, after all eagle hunting is a winter activity, practiced out on the steppe where the temperature gets as low as -40C, and fortunately it wasn't that cold here.
THE EAGLE PASSES THE WATCHING JUDGES
THE EAGLE CATCHES HER PREY
The weather treated us fairly kindly during the festival, especially the first day, but the wind was gradually building, and by the end of the second day, dust devils were swirling across the open arena, covering everything and everybody in a statically charged layer of fine dust which was impossible to remove. But the show must go on and the festival concluded, winners received their medals and certificates, whilst the crowd were entertained with music provided by a band of Tuvan singers and entertainers.
TUVAN ENTERTAINER
We receive news that our flight from Olgii back to UB is delayed by 12 hours which gives us an extra day in camp, and we're not unduly worried until we learn that due to the gale force winds the flight is rescheduled, now leaving from Khovd rather than Olgii. What to do with the day, Lee decides more walking is needed and spends the day hiking the hills one side of the plain we are camped on. Distances can be very deceptive and just to reach 'them thar' hills takes him two hours. The rest of us set out in the UAZ and head off in search of the famous Argali sheep, almost as elusive as the Siberian Ibex. We actually find some, and with maximum zoom manage to get a shot which I will treasure always, ha ha! A stop in Ulaankhus, and we hit the shops, and as we enter they even turn the lights on for us. Spooky just how far and wide you can find Mars products, and so I buy some mini Mars, Snickers, Twix and Milky Way, sold by the kilo, a novel idea!
On returning to our campsite we learn that most of the tourists in the area are to be bussed to Khovd, but our local man decided we would use the UAZ vehicles to take us on the six and a half hour journey. Fine and dandy, but the weather worsened, the snow storm worsened, and as we reached the high pass across the mountains we had to traverse, it was a complete white out, with the driver dodging around large lakes with no perceptible sign of a road.
SHOPPING IN ULAANKHUS
On returning to our campsite we learn that most of the tourists in the area are to be bussed to Khovd, but our local man decided we would use the UAZ vehicles to take us on the six and a half hour journey. Fine and dandy, but the weather worsened, the snow storm worsened, and as we reached the high pass across the mountains we had to traverse, it was a complete white out, with the driver dodging around large lakes with no perceptible sign of a road.
This continued for over an hour, and it gave us a taste of what winter must be like for the nomads who live in this area, and I prayed that this was not the point that the trusty UAZ had a puncture or broke down. I have to say I was relieved as we descended into Khovd and the storm abated, and we were soon in a warm hotel/restaurant with an evening meal. There was still no news of what time the flight might leave Khovd, or even if it had landed, so we called it a night and went to bed, confident that we would miss our connection to Moscow from UB, due to depart at 6.55am from UB the following morning. Calls to Goyo confirmed that if we missed this flight, not only would we have to pay for an alternative flight but it could take a few days before we managed to actually get on one, and we had already seen all the sights that UB has to offer.
At 3.15am there was a loud rap on the door, and Nurbie was telling us to get our skates on, we were going to the airport for a 4am flight. The three hour flight would get us into UB at around 7am, too late for the Moscow connection. However, eventually the high winds worked in our favour and we got to UB in record time at 6.30am and were couriered at top speed through the airport by the Goyo team, arriving breathlessly on the connecting flight as they were closing the doors. Never have I been so pleased to look forward to six hours with my knees under my chin.
MONGOLIA - ETCHED IN MY MEMORY
So did Mongolia live up to my expectations, unequivocally yes it did. It ticked all the boxes, safe & hospitable, great camaraderie, very remote, physically challenging and visually spectacular on many levels. My collection of memories, as well as the images I shot on this trip will be etched in my memory for the rest of my life.
Postscript (Dec 2015): As promised instead of just sending a few photographs to Botei and his family I have created a photobook of our time with the family, The Eagle Hunter & His Family. I have his address, but to be on the safe side I send it to Goyo's office in Ulaan Baatar, and you guessed, it never arrives. I have ordered another copy, which has arrived with Goyo in the UK, and it will be taken back to UB by office manager Tuul, who is over for the Adventure Show. On her return it will be taken out west with a group that are visiting Botei in February; I hope it will be a great surprise.
Postscript to postscript (Feb 2016): The first book did arrive in Ulaan Baatar, mid-February, and so they will now have two copies, restoring faith in the global postal system.
Postscript (Dec 2015): As promised instead of just sending a few photographs to Botei and his family I have created a photobook of our time with the family, The Eagle Hunter & His Family. I have his address, but to be on the safe side I send it to Goyo's office in Ulaan Baatar, and you guessed, it never arrives. I have ordered another copy, which has arrived with Goyo in the UK, and it will be taken back to UB by office manager Tuul, who is over for the Adventure Show. On her return it will be taken out west with a group that are visiting Botei in February; I hope it will be a great surprise.
Postscript to postscript (Feb 2016): The first book did arrive in Ulaan Baatar, mid-February, and so they will now have two copies, restoring faith in the global postal system.
Allan Grey
September 2015
