Duff is back with us today, and our first stop after leaving the ger holiday camp (think Mongolian caravan park) is the temple complex at Khar Khorin. Built in the late 16th century and added to in stages since then by various rulers and spiritual leaders, it covers about half a square km. Small by Anghor Wat standards, but impressive enough to be declared a World Heritage site in 2004. We spend an hour or so as a tour party before filtering off and doing our own exploring and then perusing the parade of tourist shops. Steve has his photo taken dressed as a Mongol warrior and Danny poses with a large eagle armed with his trademark smile.
Then it's off, and after refueling, strangely, we stop again about 10 minutes later for a refreshment break. Or at least that's Mr G's plan. Gerard takes exception to stopping and remonstrates with Mr G that there's no reason to stop so soon after leaving the temple - he's right of course, but the rest of us were too polite to say so. The support team, suitable chastened, start packing the drinks kit back into the jeep. Poor confused Christian has just dunked his tea bag and has to abandon his hot beverage prematurely. We're off again and don't stop until lunch.
There follows a longish intense thrash across the rolling grassy hills, seemingly randomly as the leader corrects the route as we go. We do a photo stop with us riding up a hill towards the camera and afterwards I get a chance to try Christian's Dakar styled bike with trick suspension (closed cartridge forks) and peppy engine. Like Gerard's bike, which I tried earlier in the trip, it flatters the rider with its stable ride, forgiving suspension setup and responsive throttle. I'm once again a hooligan carving my way through the open terrain, straining at the virtual leash constraining me to keep pace behind the lead jeep. At lunch (once Mr G clears this with Gerard) we're told to take extra care until the end of the tour and my hooligan antics on Christian's bike mean I'm singled out by name. I'm back on my own bike after lunch so that should be possible... In theory.
Unlike our previous trips, this tour is virtually self contained, with everything we need in the truck. That's means no lunch stops at roadside cafes and little chance for interaction with the locals. That's probably a necessity as there aren't really any suitable places on route anyway. The upside is that the organisers have good control of what we eat, and apart from Matt's isolated problem, none of us have suffered significantly with upset stomachs. When we camp, locals often stop by to check us out and we've had some good photo opportunities on these occasions.
It's our hottest day so far, the jackets are off and we're wearing just our armour on top. We head for our next way-point by a lake. Just as we crest a hill we get one of the best trip vistas so far: the hill drops below us, the lake in the distance, mountains beyond and all topped with a wispy blue sky. We stop for more photos.
We reach the lake and there's no one around, so we strip down to our underwear and jump into the cold water; not quite skinny dipping, but close. Our local guides follow our lead and they're soon splashing around in the water too (Mr Gantulga's son, who we call "Mini-G", is a champion Mongolian swimmer and impresses with his butterfly stroke). It was mighty refreshing after a hot ride and standing by the bikes in our undies, the strong breeze soon dries us. We have the option to camp here, but we decide to push on as we're behind in our itinerary.
The dirt and gravel roads get compacted as cars and lorries traverse them and just like the dirt roads we met in Bolivia they acquire not only ruts running along them, but a corrugation running across them. There they were bike killers, inducing damaging vibrations on the bike that would literally shake them to pieces. Here they do much the same, so we try to avoid them if we can. They shake not only the bikes but the riders and their guts; uncomfortable especially after meals. Standing on the pegs helps a lot.
Although Tsagaan Hutul was the planned destination in the itinerary, because of the delayed temple stop (meant to be yesterday) we're nowhere near reaching it tonight, so we stop to camp on flat ground a km or so from the tarmac road we are on at the moment.
Before dinner we relax with drinks and chat among ourselves with majestic views all around us. I sit and listen to about four parallel conversations, dipping into each occasionally. This is always a nice way to end a hard day, talking about the day's riding, trips we've done, other trips planned and generally chilling. After dinner, the support team roll out a local speciality, horse milk beer; the lads are not too impressed, but Mr G and Mini G, knock it back late into the evening (Mini G looked very fragile in the morning!)
We're still behind in the itinerary, so we have a long day ahead, but that won't phase us, we're all well seasoned riders now.
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| The main temples |
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| Our temple tour guide |
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| example of the temple exhibits |
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| Scary Shri Devi, actually a protector |
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| Another temple on the complex |
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| My body is also a temple |
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| The eagle bows to Danny's SmileTM |
There follows a longish intense thrash across the rolling grassy hills, seemingly randomly as the leader corrects the route as we go. We do a photo stop with us riding up a hill towards the camera and afterwards I get a chance to try Christian's Dakar styled bike with trick suspension (closed cartridge forks) and peppy engine. Like Gerard's bike, which I tried earlier in the trip, it flatters the rider with its stable ride, forgiving suspension setup and responsive throttle. I'm once again a hooligan carving my way through the open terrain, straining at the virtual leash constraining me to keep pace behind the lead jeep. At lunch (once Mr G clears this with Gerard) we're told to take extra care until the end of the tour and my hooligan antics on Christian's bike mean I'm singled out by name. I'm back on my own bike after lunch so that should be possible... In theory.
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| Biker Dom and his Honda XR650, ready to burn rubber |
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| This is what happens to the tyre tread when you let a hooligan ride a trail bike |
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| Curious locals |
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| a cold dip awaits in the distance |
The dirt and gravel roads get compacted as cars and lorries traverse them and just like the dirt roads we met in Bolivia they acquire not only ruts running along them, but a corrugation running across them. There they were bike killers, inducing damaging vibrations on the bike that would literally shake them to pieces. Here they do much the same, so we try to avoid them if we can. They shake not only the bikes but the riders and their guts; uncomfortable especially after meals. Standing on the pegs helps a lot.
Although Tsagaan Hutul was the planned destination in the itinerary, because of the delayed temple stop (meant to be yesterday) we're nowhere near reaching it tonight, so we stop to camp on flat ground a km or so from the tarmac road we are on at the moment.
Before dinner we relax with drinks and chat among ourselves with majestic views all around us. I sit and listen to about four parallel conversations, dipping into each occasionally. This is always a nice way to end a hard day, talking about the day's riding, trips we've done, other trips planned and generally chilling. After dinner, the support team roll out a local speciality, horse milk beer; the lads are not too impressed, but Mr G and Mini G, knock it back late into the evening (Mini G looked very fragile in the morning!)
We're still behind in the itinerary, so we have a long day ahead, but that won't phase us, we're all well seasoned riders now.
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