Dusk approaches as the dune swallows the wheels on our jeep. There is a mutual understanding here. The sand eats, the tires feed, and we get stuck. Wind and chill supplement the coming darkness, sending shivers down my spine and sand into my eyes. I take a moment from digging out the tires and grab my winter coat from inside the vehicle. As I linger around the driver side door bundled up from the cold, the scale of the desert and our situation comes into focus with a single glance.
All around me are long stretches of mountain range, vast steppe, barren desert, and towering sand dunes. The nearest nomad family is at least a 2 day hike from this spot. We are not situated along any of the main sets of tire tracks that wind their way around the desert and no one knows we are even out here in the dunes. But, whatever we lack in location we offset in resources - two tents, three sleeping bags, cookware, plenty of food, 8 to 10 liters of water, 2.5 liters of beer, 1 guitar, and 2 packs of cigarettes. Times are tough out in the Gobi, but the company is good and the scenery is amazing.
The terrain in Mongolia is large, arid, and wind ridden. The majority of the land is untouched as the rural landscapes shift rapidly from one vista to the next. Pale hills blubbering out beneath gray sierras, followed by short sprouts of grassy lea reaching out for miles until they nuzzle up to a solitary mountain rising abruptly out of the steppe. Dirt, stone, saxual bush, mud, river, and sand were the surfaces we passed over to get to the Gobi, and only our patience, wallets, and jeep would feel the adverse impact.
In the dunes the impact becomes apparent. The Mongolian geography has taken a greater toll on our rented jeep than we had previously thought. Our fan belt has snapped when we tried to force the jeep free with four-wheel drive. ("Give it gas!") We open the hood to inspect the task at hand, and discover that our oil valve has also blasted off from the nozzle. Oil has dripped down and splattered onto the lower parts of the engine.We immediately stumble into a crude plan while there is still sun light. Ken volunteers to go off and scan the horizon from a vantage point for any sight of humanity. I will try to fix the engine with Shachar.
Shachar, Ken, and I met while planning a trip out to Terelj National Park the first weekend Ken and I arrived in Mongolia. We were not yet full acquainted with him but when we all met we realized that we all had reasons to head out to the park. Ken and I wanted to climb and he wanted to see the nature. He didn’t want to impose but we assured him that he was welcome to join us. The three of us spent the first few days climbing, cooking, hiking, and pow-wowing around the fire. We took turns climbing different routes, searching for new holds, giving beta from below, and watching the different challenges each of us faced on the rock. When we had met Shachar in the capital city he was just another tourist, but after our five days out in Terelj he was our friend. All of this took place well before the jeep was a reality but Terelj was what the group needed. It set a tone for the jeep trip and gave us the drive to see Mongolia on our terms. No guide. No comfort. No plan. Just three friends exploring outer Mongolia, and the experiences we shared made any adversity we faced worthwhile.
The jeep was the only trying part of the journey. It had a whole catalog of problems from the electrical system to the suspension. On any given day, we could expect something new to fall apart. But, this is a Russian Jeep, which means it’s easy to fix and built like a tank. I realized the jeeps true capacity while Shachar drove through the barranca near Yolin Am. That off-roader fought tooth and nail over boulders and waterways. I was impressed and though it broke down from time to time it was always repaired and always lead us to friendly places.
On one occasion around the eight or ninth day, the steering wheel and breaks ceased and the gears locked up. We found ourselves stranded along a dirt path not far from a small town. Within a few moments a lone motorcyclist came by and called a local mechanic. The mechanic arrived with his 6 or 7 year old son. He took a look at the jeep for an hour or so and decided that it would be best if we travel to his Yurt so he could work on the problems there. We agreed and after we all shared beer, tea, and coffee on the side of the road we carefully drove to the yurt. When we arrived we were invited in to meet the family and to have lunch. We sat around drinking salty milk tea and eating fried bread with egg. We spent the entire afternoon with the family while the father worked on our jeep. To pass the time, I attempted to help (though I failed) to bring in 100 goats for a milking. I also spent some time with the son and helped him duct tape up a tire on his toy truck. (Along this trip everything from batteries, to baggage, to license plates got a little bit of duct tape.) We had dinner with the family and watched Ken and the father play a game of chess. They looked happy and so were we. We moved on shortly after to another mechanic and were met with the same hospitality. From place to place, we always found kindness. Whether is was a bed for the night or just a mug of salty milk tea, we found ourselves living part of the dream - connecting with Mongolians.
In the desert though, we are alone, and stuck in the sand with a broken engine. It’s time to go to work. Shachar and I pop the hood and used everything we have to get this belt back on – blood, sweat, and forks. It takes us a while, but we realize that it all comes down to three bolts, a swinging mechanical arm, and a new clamp for the oil valve. Problems solved. At night, as the wind blows more sand over the tires, we feast on kielbasa with rice and drink up the 2.5 liters of beer. Ken and Shachar discuss Issac Asimov and Enders Games (It was Bean!). The stars are endless. I see satellites flying around and shooting stars as the minutes wind down until bedtime. That night we sleep in our tents comfortably upon the dunes.
The next day in the early afternoon, Shachar and Ken heard an engine reeving off in the distance and ran off to find it. They returned ten minutes later with the Calvary – five Mongolian men who new exactly how to get the jeep out. Lift the jeep, fill in the sand cavity made by the tires, and use dead bush root for traction. We were free in no time and looked forward to our next phase of Asia. China.
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