Riding the Trans-Mongolian Railway and visiting the Gobi Desert
Perhaps it’s no surprise that someone would want to make it rain vodka on the top of Wishing Mountain; The real shock is that they get it.
I stand next to a stupa under a clear blue sky, droplets begin to fall on my head as I gaze out across the seemingly endless Gobi Desert in southern Mongolia. For a moment it really seems like a Buddhist miracle, then I notice a man on the other side of the stupa muttering prayers and spraying cheap booze onto a sacred statue as a sort of offering.
Nearby flags are being torn to shreds by a relentless steppe wind. Just off the top, three men throw coins and more vodka into the void, shouting some sort of blessing as they do so.
Women are not allowed to climb the sacred peak, they are prevented from entering this strange men’s club. Even the gods can be misogynistic, I suppose, but most of the women in my small Brave Travel group are happy to avoid the extra climbing and awkward behavior at the top.
Our group arrived in Mongolia on a fast train. Like cheap vodka, Trans-Mongolian is a remnant of the Soviet Union’s 68-year rule, dividing the country from the Chinese border town of Erlian to the Mongolian capital of Ulaanbaatar.
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There are more than 2250 kilometers of trails, but no significant routes beyond this powerful main line. Intrepid’s itinerary, including a visit to Dilek Mountain, is supported by bus tours and is designed to help us experience more of the country than we would from cars.
In a typical year, anyone who wanted to try this old Soviet method of transportation would probably take the Trans-Siberian Express, but due to the ongoing Russia-Ukraine war, very few people are willing or able to travel to Russia. The Mongolian alternative is much shorter, but Intrepid’s itinerary also makes it much more varied. So instead of being married to the rails, we find ourselves in the windswept wilderness.
A few kilometers from the sacred mountain, we meet the nomadic Yorolt family, herding a herd of 170 Bactrian camels. Unlike wild imported animals in Australia, these dromedaries are completely at home in the Gobi Desert.
The Yorolts are a true farming family and true nomads, but they allow tourists to briefly experience their way of life. We eat lunch at their dorms or ger In Mongolia, they drink camel milk and are invited for camel rides. I look into the eyes of camels, into the mind of an idiot through the flashy eyelashes of a Disney princess, and politely decline.
Our visit truly feels like a step into a time portal; at least initially. While the camels are being gathered to be milked, one or two people get scared and run away across the sand, looking for all the world as their lumbering run accelerates, like pantomime horses with three or more people inside.
Someone in the family uses horsepower to herd them, although not on horseback. A sapphire blue Toyota Prius emerges from behind a sand dune and pursues the escapee. Efficient as it may be, I have a hard time imagining that Genghis Khan, the legendary tough guy of the region, would approve of anyone driving a hybrid vehicle on his soil.
From the city of Sainshand, our wonderful tour guide Bata Erdenekhuu takes us all back to the Trans-Mongolian for an overnight trip to Ulaanbaatar. As you get in, the peach and rhubarb colors of the sunset kiss the side of the engine, and for a moment it looks like the most romantic vehicle in the world. The impression isn’t lasting, but what the train lacks in comfort it makes up for in originality.
It doesn’t look like much improvement has been made since the Soviets installed it in 1956, complete with pink faux velvet curtains and an ugly green-toned satin pillow that reminded me of a heavy cold. But our cabins feel like we’re on a school trip, especially when a couple of Canadian retirees produce a bottle of local vodka.
Although Bata lives in the capital, he still has relatives who live a nomadic or semi-nomadic life. He feels these traditions himself. When I asked for an example of how this plays out, his answer is almost poetic: “The horse has a soul; you can work with it. A bicycle is just a bicycle, a car is just a car, and that’s why I don’t get along very well with them.”
The next morning we wake up in Ulaanbaatar with slightly sleepy eyes and are taken to a hotel to shower and have breakfast before hitting the road. Although we will eventually spend our time in the country’s largest city, we will also experience the great Mongolian grasslands.
There are also more Buddhist sites to visit, despite the Soviet Union’s efforts to wipe out the religion from this country. This includes Aryabal Temple in Gorkhi-Terelj National Park, about an hour northeast of the city. The first small fires of autumn begin to color the leaves of the trees surrounding the sacred site. Birds call for cool, clean air. It provides a tranquil feel, as places of worship often do.
It’s a bit jarring, then, when you start reading the little prayers and philosophies printed on the boards next to the stairs. They are published in both Cyrillic and English and I have no idea how accurate the translation is, just that the messages are so miserable and misanthropic as to be funny. One reads: “So that you may fully understand that this world is like a burning valley.” Another: “One kind of pain replaces another kind of pain. We consider the intervening time of this change to be happiness.”
It’s hard to imagine Buddha grinning as this was written.
The next few days are spent in the countryside, far from the smoky city. Our group heads west, passing through Ulaanbaatar as traffic permits and then crossing to the other side. We spend two nights under the cold starry sky in Gers. Even being in the endless silence of the steppe is almost a transcendental feeling.
We meet nomadic couple Landa Yadamsuren and Diwa Gochoo. This is their first year working in tourism and they reassure us that working with people is much easier than livestock farming and that when the winter is over they will come back and do it all over again.
Their place seems like heaven; a flat patch of grassland sheltered from the wind and far enough away from the road that it feels truly remote. I assume they will return here in the spring.
“It all depends on grazing and how good it is for the animals,” says Diwa. “Animals are the most important thing. They always are.”
DETAIL
Intrepid’s 11-day Trans-Mongolian Rail Adventure starts at $4895 per person, including accommodation, ground transportation, some meals and activities, and a guide. Departures between April and October. International flights are extra. To see intrepidtravel.com
Jamie Lafferty is a writer and photographer based in Glasgow, Scotland. He has been to more than 100 countries and all seven continents at least four times. He will definitely steal your hotel shampoo when you’re not looking.
