Mongolia | CutterLight

Roughly 75 miles (120 km) from Ulaanbaatar, grazing horses and the first ger we stayed in are dwarfed against vast grasslands rimmed in mountains. Although the mountains appear low, the grasslands themselves are over 4,000 feet above sea level. With abundant wildlife, few villages and virtually no paved highways, the Mongolian steppe is one of the world’s great high plains wildernesses.

We have no idea how our driver, Nimka, and our guide, Otgo, found the first ger we stayed in. Pitch dark except for the wash of the Milky Way in the night sky and the headlights from our van, Nimka steered from one set of indistinct dirt tracks in the grass to another. My insistence that we stop for a look at herds of gazelle coupled with our late-in-the-day start from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia’s capital, had us arriving well after dark.

And then, suddenly, there it was. A faint glow gradually assumed the round shape of a nomadic family’s home. Nimka eased the van to a stop, introductions were made, and we soon were inside. A bowl filled to brimming with airag – fermented mare’s milk – was ladled out from a large leather bag hanging on one side of the ger’s wall and passed around.

Proudly displayed on a rustic, hand-decorated wooden frame, this leather bag contains airag, the fermented mare’s milk that is the traditional welcoming offer in many gers throughout Mongolia. Slightly sour, slightly alcoholic, slightly sweet…

In addition to the airag, the couple who owned the ger prepared a large wok-shaped pot of mutton stew – hearty fare and welcome as we hadn’t eaten since noon. This was our first experience staying with a family in their ger, and initially it was a bit awkward. Our hosts spoke no English. We spoke almost no Mongolian. Would it be OK to take photos? Should we bring in a box of wine and offer it? And, uh… is there an outhouse or something?

Our guide Otgo, spoke excellent English and quickly helped us get acclimated. Upon entering a ger, one is to move clockwise. The oldest male in the party (in this case, me) is expected to sit at the “top” of the ger, directly across from the door. We’d be rolling out sleeping bags at bedtime. As for an outhouse… pick a bush, clump of tall grass or rock outcrop to duck behind, and for the “big jobs,” dig out a hole with the heel of your shoe.

With a diameter of around 25 feet (7.6 meters), a typical ger has about 500 square feet (46 square meters) of living space. The ger’s centerpiece is a steel stove with a wok-like pot designed to fit perfectly. Outside temperatures at night dipped to freezing in mid-October, but a steady feed of dry manure kept the ger warm to roasting.

The stove’s chimney extends through an opening in the center of the ger. The sun hadn’t been up long when we sat down to breakfast: coffee, tea, cheese and bread and jam.

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After breakfast, Nimka got to work changing one of the tires on his tough, Russan-built four-wheel drive van. This was the first of four flats during our eight-day trip.

Freshly-made aaruul, a type of dried milk curd, cures in the early morning sun atop the roof of the ger. Once it’s dry, aaruul can be kept almost indefinitely. This was the food that fueled Chinggis Khan and his armies as they conquered the largest area of land ever to fall under one empire. Tasting like sour milk, aaruul is an acquired taste for most non-Mongolians.

Legendary for their endurance, the horses of Mongolia are sturdy, tough and beautiful.

There essentially are no fences in the Mongolian countryside.

Dogs such as this handsome fellow are an integral part of herders’ lives. While not abundant, wolves are still part of the Mongolian landscape. This guy was quite friendly, as were most of the dogs we encountered.

A string of cattle makes its way along tire tracks that pass for the local road near the first ger we stayed at. Over the next few posts, we will share more of what we saw and experienced on our trip to the Gobi, including encounters with thousands of Monglian gazelle, countless birds of prey, groups of Siberian ibex, dinosaur fossils, exotic traditional Mongolian cuisine, a sojourn into the desert by camel, and even a pit viper. Stay tuned!

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Traditional Mongolian barbecue consists of the meat of an entire animal (often sheep), fire-heated rocks and root vegetables placed together in a large cooking container. The heated rocks slow-cook the meat and vegetables while the sealed container keeps the flavor in.

To celebrate the beginning of the school year, our Mongolian colleagues prepared a khorkhog feast to share with us. Khorkhog refers to a Mongolian method of cooking meat as well as to the celebratory event where the meat is enjoyed.

This elaborately decorated bus took us to the feast site. Opulent to our eyes, we were told that this is a “normal” bus. (Our friend Dawn Doig is seated on the right.)

Our picnic site was located on the grounds of the Hotel Mongolia which offers upscale services along with ger (yurt) sleeping quarters. Traditionally made of felt walls and wood frames, gers are the portable homes of the nomadic people of the Mongolian steppe.

In the early 13th century a former Mongolian herder name Temujin was renamed Genghis Khan, ruler of all who live in felt tents. Under Genghis Khan and later his sons, the Mongolian Empire would eventually include an uninterrupted sweep of territory extending as far west as present day Hungary, east through southern Russia, central Asia, Northern China and Mongolia – the largest contiguous empire ever to exist. Military forays pushed into Southeast Asia and although never successfully invaded, Mongolian leadership even had their sights set on Japan. Present-day Mongolia is the 19th largest country – but with a population of about three million people is the least densely populated.

In the center courtyard of the Hotel Mongolia is a silver tree fountain which was inspired by the Silver Tree of the ancient city of Karakorum, the 13th century capital of the Mongol Empire. The original sculpture was made of silver and other precious metals. When the khan wanted to serve drinks to his guests, the sculpture’s serpents would gush alcoholic beverages.

“Why didn’t you let me bring my tenkara rod?” Jack pouted as he watched a local fisherman try his luck in the Tuul River. Next time, Jack. Next time. The presence of stoneflies, mayflies and caddis larvae indicated good water quality, but we have yet to see a fish come out of this highly-pressured section of the Tuul River.

We were treated to a lovely picnic prepared by our Mongolian colleagues. Khorkhog meat cooked to perfection was served alongside roasted root vegetables and potatoes. An assortment of salads rounded out the meal and people were snacking on pine nuts from cones they’d found nearby. The centerpiece of the spread was a beautiful bowl of airag, fermented mare’s milk.

A bit of a sour face is a standard reaction upon first sampling a bowl of airag. We understand that this beverage is traditionally offered by nomadic hosts to guests in Mongolia. We anticipate sampling a few more airags in our future Mongolian adventures.

We were told it is customary to check the vodka (for poison?) by dipping one’s right ring finger into the drink and then scrutinizing the finger for black streaks. When the milk vodka passes the test, the drinker gives thanks to the spiritual world by flicking some of the liquid to the sky and to the left and right and then touching his forehead. This particular batch of mare’s milk vodka was brought by one of our colleagues whose family has a special recipe. The drink has a decided aftertaste of blue cheese.

After a filling meal, we took a leisurely stroll atop the wall surrounding the hotel. Black kites, durian jackdaws, and red-billed choughs soared through the blue skies and we even startled a hare on our way to the picnic site.

We stopped to check out the indicate details in the roof tiles of the main buildings.

Our walk ended where some of the men were preparing another khorkhog using the same cooking process as in the metal containers, but this time using a sheep’s stomach as the cooking vessel.