NahGo

 Vanessa - my Irish tent buddy. An architecture student - which was lucky for me as I was useless figuring out how to put the tent up.

 Marisa - a Mexican artist living in Ulaan Baator for a year. New to horses but killer on the dance floor as we discovered back in Ulaan Baator when we hit a Mongolian night club,

 Amy - an American  linguist studying the Mongolian language living in Ulaan Baator for a year.

 Bill - A Canadian narcoleptic (or so it seemed) determined to nap as much as possible when not calling for an invasion of Europe whenever his steed broke into a trot. 

 Rachel - from the UK. Rachel always had the biggest smile after a gallop.

 Bronwyn - a Kiwi lass now living in an Ausie town called Penguin. She went from barely knowing how to ride to being the honorary wrangler.

 Toni - also a Kiwi lass now in Penguin. Toni saved us all with her magic paw-paw lip balm. Without that helping our wind and sun wrecked lips we would not have been able to laugh anywhere near as much.

 Tom the innocent -  from the UK. Tom was at the front end of a year of travel and was handy in the kitchen and with a camera. Some of the shots on this page are stole from him.

 Mandy - our lovely translator. She was always on hand to communicate the marriage proposals that Dondov made. 

 Nara - our amazing cook. We were all in awe of her bread made on a camp fire. 

 Jen - our guide from America. Jen can do pretty much anything, from ride the stroppiest of horses to play  a traditional kyrgyzstan musical instrument (I can't remember the name of it). She was also newly qualified in wilderness first aid and was itching for one of us to break something so she could test out splints.

 John - the dude from NZ who made it all happen. This photo is his pensive look. Right after this he would pull out his little notebook squint at you and write something. I suspect he was giving us all report cards which we are yet to see. "Farah: day five, failed to warn me when she got up from bench, coffee spilled - 20 demerit points." John also does a mean impersonation of a marmot call. We were all extremely surprised that marmot's have strong kiwi accents.

 Tsoj - my favourite wrangler. Tsoj has the saddest face and has even learned how to smile with the corners of his mouth facing downwards. The hangdog look vanishes though, when he starts giggling like a school girl, which is often. Tsoj and I hit it off (despite the fact we didn't speak each other's language) and he decided he's moving to Singapore and giving up horses and mutton.

  Dondov - the ultimate wrangler. Dondov is the epitome of a Mongolian marlboro man - complete with luxuriant moustache. He scored himself two wives from the group as well as arranged for Vanessa to marry his eldest son. He promised her a nice del and a few animals in return for her milking the animals every morning and bearing him grand children.

 Bayanar - the new recruit wrangler. At just twenty years old Bayanar was the baby of the trip. He did a great job looking after us all and I suspect he spoke far more English than he admitted to and could understand some of our silliness.

 Torro - driver and angler. Torro managed to turn a five hour drive into a ten hour drive by delivering us to the wrong lake. He's a bit of a speed demon behind the wheel. Once we hit 80km - lightspeed for Mongolian roads.

 Gunbar - driver. Gunbar was better with directions and opted for a slower pace than Torro.

 Jenya - he and his lovely  wife Ogi (who I didn't manage to get a photo of) run things in the office in Ulaan Baator. Jenya dislikes Mongolian wrestling a lot. 'Men in underwear trying to pull them off each other'.

After an eventful journey to Mongolia that included a re-routing due to bad weather, several hours in a storm on the tarmac at some random airport in a paddock in China, a terrifying flight with the worst turbulence I've experienced, the next flight delayed, then more hours on the tarmac,  a great night (2am - 5am) in Beijing snoozing on a wooden slat bench in the arrivals hall next to a fountain (not an advisable spot to sleep if you don't want to have to make several bathroom trips), then the flight from Beijing to Ulaan Baator delayed by over five hours, I finally  found myself landing in UB just as my group was flying out to Marun. The company did a great job of rebooking a flight for me for the next day and put me up in what felt like the presidential suite of a hotel.

 Sunset from my presidential suite window. The sun goes down around 9:30pm.

 Mini bars are usually called mini bars because they are small and they contain small bottles of booze. In Mongolia however they don't believe in small bottles of vodka. I had a 4am start the next morning so I chose not to sample the Chinggis Khan Vodka and instead watched a game of football  in the hotel lounge with the Peruvian scientist I had met on the plane and his Japanese colleagues.

 This actually is a main road and is marked on maps. This is a smooth section - most of the time it was rutted and puddle filled  and rock strewn. Four wheel drive essential.

 We stopped to help a broken down truck when this tanker passed us - and then a guy on a motorbike convinced us to take two of his daughters with us in our van to his ger about an hour away. I gathered all this from sign language as the driver who was taking care of me could only speak a couple of words of english. We passed time with him teaching me the Mongolian names of the animals we would see. Mainly black kites or steppe eagles and loads of ground squirrels and marmots. This trip was my first up-close introduction to the countryside. I was in awe of how vast it was and how fresh the air smelled and was at first amazed at how the driver knew which dirt track to take. Later I realised he had no idea which was the right dirt track as he ended up stopping at several gers and asking directions.

After five hours of nothing but the occasional ger we hit the wild west town of Tosontsengel. The tall wooden fences are to block the wind and inside the fenced compounds were a family's ger and outhouse. They reminded me of maraes.

  I caught up with the group and made my awkward introductions and attempted to remember all of their names. My first day riding (their second) was cut short with rain. We all decided we were soft and opted to camp instead of ride on in wet clothes.

 The sheep shot just for Rupes.

 Sharing snuff is customary for men and the wranglers must have decided we were manly enough to handle it. Here Bron is about to try some. Bayanar looks on with interest.

 Bron sampled a little too much and has a sneezing fit, much to the delight and amusement of Dondov and Bayanar.

Hanging out in the cooking tent was the best way to dry our clothes. This is Bayanar wearing his del. 

 Dinner for the rainy night was a Mongolian speciality - horhog. Mutton, onions, potatoes and carrots are put in a pot with a very generous helping of salt. Red hot stones are then added and the pot is sealed for about an hour and put on a low fire. A fire is also built on top like a dutch oven.

 And this shot would be the adding of the stones. The meaty steam made the tent like a meat sauna.

 The driver and wranglers all take part in the cooking. Here there is a disagreement over how much more meat can be squeezed into the pan. 

After an the pan is opened and each person is handed a hot stone for luck. This is thrown from hand to hand until the meal is served.

 After the stone throwing the eating begins. It's bad form to not chew your bones clean and I wasn't very good at it. To make sure I didn't get frowned on by the locals I hid my bones under someone else's and looked innocent when they were cleared.

 In the moutains of Tarvagatai Uul National Park is an old camp built by Russians back in the day. Derelict wooden buildings are about 5 minutes walk from a natural hot spring. By now I've finished my third day of riding and my body is aching. The buttocks weren't sore at all but my old bung knee was screaming and my shoulders were sore from trying to pull some of the more spirited horses up. I completed the trip only with the help of several nurofen plus a day to minimise the knee pain. The codeine improved everything I am sure.

 The tent with a view. Vanessa and I chose to move ourselves to the lowlands for a flatter sleep leaving the folk in Beverly hills to spend the night sliding out of their tent. Waking up here means waking up to the sound of the elusive cuckoo (always heard never seen) or if you were a late sleeper the dulcet tones of narcoleptic Bill, who was a constant napper but early riser and took on the task of being our alarm clock.

 Scale the mountain above the hot springs and you get to green lake - a crater lake. Yes, that's snow in them thar hills. It was actually still cold at night even when you weren't up a mountain. I slept in a sleeping bag good for 1 degree with an additional polar fleece liner loaned to me by Jen. I wore thermals and socks to bed every night and a couple of nights I also wore a flannel shirt on top and a beanie. 

 It was a pretty place but the weather was harsh. We left the mountain chased by a thunder storm complete with slightly close for comfort lightning bolts.

 The food on the trip was really good. Tom the innocent pitched in for this dinner and whipped up an Italian inspired pasta meal. We had some mutton as a side dish with most meals (having killed a sheep on the first day) and for some reason gherkins made a daily appearance on the menu. Breakfast was porridge with sultanas and brown sugar and lunch was a sandwich made with Nara's delicious bread.

In the foreground is our defence against the thousands of mosquitos that bit through our clothes - burning horse dung (smudge). In the background Bill and Tom make like manly men and try their hand at lumber jacking. The mosquitoes were really bad and one was at their most exposed when using the bathroom. A chafing mosquito bite on the buttock even cut short one rider's day.

 (Tom's photo) Not really banditos -  Vanessa and I are just protecting ourselves from the smoke. 

 Torro  - not an axe wielding maniac about to terrorise a summer camp like a b grade horror movie, just a helpful guy chopping some firewood.

 If someone asked me before I left home what kind of snacks I would eat popcorn would have been last on my list.

 Dondov had been the sous chef for the sugar sauce and Tsoj seemed mildly impressed by his efforts.

The path to the hot spring in early morning.

The hot spa complex - three cubicles like this with an enamel bathtub in. You plugged the bath tub to fill it with hot water. Insanely good for the aches and pains from riding and our only hot wash on the trip. All that was missing was a yellow ducky.

 Post bath Bill basking in the early morning sun and enjoying the brief respite from the thousands of mosquitoes.

 Blissed out Bill. If I hadn't have come along he probably would have napped again.

 Who can begrudge Bill some lingering time when this is the view.

 This time it's not Bill.

The wranglers discover Marisa's sketch book complete with life drawings. Dondov tries to stuff a male drawing in Tsoj's pocket for his later viewing.

 Oooh!

The collapsing camp oven (with the face on the hatch) that was responsible for most of our meals.

 While most of us were looking awful and had worn the same clothes for the whole trip Antonia managed to looked refined and elegant in a white blouse and jodhpurs.

 Along with wild flowers the plains also had herbs, something minty grew everywhere as well as wild thyme. The combination of that with horsey smell made for a lovely aroma.

The best horse of the trip. I'm qualified to say this as I rode eight different horses. A couple were quiet, a couple were responsive and a couple were just hard work. Pepe was chilled out but could gallop at a good speed when he wanted to be at the front of the pack or to catch up to his mate. The horses belonged to the wranglers so were from a mix of two herds. It was really interesting to see the herd behaviour - not something I had ever noticed in NZ.

 The saddle I used, I think it was Russian inspired design and far more gentle on the buttocks than the wooden Mongolian saddles. The bridles are normal and you ride with both reins in one hand and holding the long lead rope from the halter. John and Jen told us (how reassuring) that holding the long lead would mean that if you fell you might still have hold of the horse and not lose it. 

 We had more horses than we needed to allow for people wanting to ride different horses and for saddle sores. Depending on the horse sometimes the wranglers led them and other times they let them loose to follow us.

 That side of the van fits a paltry four people in seats for three.

 Here we show them how it's done squeezing five people into three seats. I think Bayanar got a raw deal here. Luckily this was a short trip to a nearby ger.

 We visited this family to buy another sheep for the rest of our trip. While the wranglers explained we wanted a young sheep not an old hoggart (not really the done thing in Mongolia it's considered a waste to kill them young) and checked that the sheep had a decent amount of fat on top of the kidneys the rest of us were introduced into the joys of goat milking. This double line of goats were tied up their heads in a zipper formation.

 With minimal instruction Bronwyn led the way with great results.

 Toni also does well. Milking is considered women's work so the boys didn't get a chance to try.

 Yup, I got some! 

 Kids in Mongolia are cuter than anywhere else in the world. This little girl started out being really shy but warmed up to us eventually.

They have an awesome technique in Mongolia that I had never heard of for dispatching dinner. They cut an opening and then squeeze the aorta until the animal dies. It sounds grim but it was all rather sedate.

 Home for nomadic herdsmen are these round tents made with wood, felt and with a plastic cover. They have a smoke hole at the top for the chimney. Most that we visited had TV so seeing satellite dishes outside was not unusual.

 The families move house to find better grazing several times a year - between 5 and 7 this family told us. The gers are dismantled and transported on these carts which get pulled by yaks or cows.

 We were welcomed to take photos as long as we gave them copies. We all printed these out when we returned to Ulaan Baator and gave to to John to drop off in August when he returned.

 Vanessa who was the official portrait taker due to the fact she had the largest camera casts herself in a shot.

 I totally have a thing for yaks. Their fuzzy tails are awesome. It was late spring so there were lots of yak calves about. They would stick their fuzzy tail in the air like a toi toi frond and gambol about the plains.

 Most gers had a solar panel that gathered enough electricity to run a light and radio or tv.

 Visitors to the left. Don't leave your feet thrust out in the common area for folk to stand on, if you do stand on someone's feet shake their hand straight away, receive gifts of drink or food with both hands and pass with one hand with your sleeve pulled down and your other hand supporting your elbow. Despite all these rules ger visits were very relaxed. It took me till my second visit to not feel awkward dropping in un-announced. Entertainment on the steppes is limited and a rag tag bunch of foreigners like us was something to have a laugh about.

 They fed us with bowls of fresh milk and yoghurt. The fresh milk was crazily sweet although it had nothing added to it.

 Here they fed us with two dishes. One was a clotted cream you spread on bread and then sprinkled sugar on - oram. The other one I forget the name of but it's what is being cooked here. A sweet buttery roux that you spread on bread. Delicious.

 Despite the fact we had dinner waiting back at the camp we couldn't resist this treat.

 A few generations of ladies. Once inside all the little girl did was eat.

 Hair cutting for boys happens at age 3 and age 7. We were told sometimes boys are even dressed as girls to confuse the gods in the hope that the gods wont take the boy child away from the family. 

 On the trip back to the camp site we came across a pile of firewood. Seeing as nobody seemed to own it we loaded it into the van for later use. This photo catches Tsoj red handed in the act of wood theft.

 The lovely Vanessa with Tsoj and Bayanar.

 The nice folk in the ger gave us doggy bags of the clotted cream and the sweet roux. 

 With a Canadian on the trip we were required to celebrate Canada day with maple syrup. Despite the best efforts of many including Jen, these camp stove pancakes weren't a huge success. Instead Narcoleptic Bill made us toast to famous Canadians. Celine Dion did not make the list.

 Dondov the Awesome striking a pose in the Mongolian wilds. Behind him in the lake are swans and signets.

 Bill forged a strong relationship with his horse - Big Jim. Bill was a constant napper and Jim was a constant grazer so we unfortunately never managed to get a photo of both where Bill wasn't napping and Jim wasn't grazing.

 I forget what bird of prey this nest belonged to. 

 (Tom's photo) This is a black kite that circled the camp site. The kites and eagles are used to herders throwing bones from their dinner in the air for them so they tend to hang out around camps to see what kind of free meal they can score.

 These two hated to be parted and were more good natured than this ears back photo depicts.

 We crossed rivers all the time. Sometimes they were deep enough to wet our feet but mostly the horses did the hard work.

 As you ride you continually come across herds of horses. They are never wild (you can tell by the mane trimming that resembles a mullet) and there is always a stallion with them. As all of our horses were geldings we never had an issue with them. Here Tsoj is chasing them a little, probably so we can have a photo op.

 You'll notice that I have very few photos of the landscape. Even with a wide angle lens it was impossible to capture how huge everything was. 

 Hot on the heels of Tsoj and meandering through a larch forest. Very pleasant. The forest riding was probably my favourite type of riding. 

 It's like a drive through car wash but with yaks.

A few delegates from a herd line up and give us the once over.

 Stallions are easy to spot - the herders don't chop their manes.

 This is just before I smashed the lens protector on my camera - the very last on horseback photo I took - an enjoyable evening ride.

 Dondov in Marisa's glasses looking a little psychadelic era-ish.

 I had seen the photos on the trekking website of people riding through fields of flowers and didn't believe I would be lucky enough to be there during that season. Wrong - flowers everywhere!

 As you got higher succulents appeared.

 Wild flowers of a different type. Tsoj and narcoleptic Bill take a nap and Tsoj catches me taking a sneaky picture.

(Tom's photo)  Nara modelling her incredible bread. Crusty crust and moist and yummy inside.

 (Tom's photo) Tom takes the afternoon off riding and is the official photographer of people arriving at camp.

 Rolling tobacco with the paper as papers. They always read the news first before rolling.

 She's got the cutest smile.

 Shortly after this photo Tsoj announced that he was moving to Singapore and was willing to give up horses and eating mutton and live on broccoli, lettuce and spicy food. Drastic measures indeed for a Mongolian man.

 (Tom's photo) Dondov with his new family. Toni and Bron as wives and Vanessa as daughter in law. Photo taken in stern Russian style.

 Always photogenic even when playing second fiddle to a horse.

 Tom the innocent attempting to get the campfire started.

 Blow Tom, blow!

 Tom and I compare hand wounds. His is manly and caused by an axe. Mine is barely visible and caused by dropping a stump on my hand as it was resting on another stump. It's still sore and I now refer to that hand as my stump-fist-sandwich hand.

(Tom's photo)  Tsoj, concerned that I am cold decides to dress me in his del. He's very fashion conscious and to my delight he manages to choose a belt that coordinates with my beer glass. I'm a bit dizzy at this point, not just from the beer and all the paparazzi attention, but from being spun around in circles so the very long belt could be tied. This is a spring/autumn weight del and was super warm but quite heavy. Winter ones have sheepskin linings. I would like to buy a winter one for the office to battle the air con.

 I'm toasty warm but I think Tsoj is a bit cold in this picture. He gallantly offered to let me keep the del for the evening but I returned it as the long sleeves were getting in the way of my beer drinking.

 It's the last evening with the horses tonight and we are spoiled with a lovely sunset.

 I think Tsoj has just told Dondov about his plans to live on lettuce and broccoli and Dondov is choking. Someone saw Dondov carefully picking the one vegetable (onions) out of his mutton soup and hiding them under a stone. Vegetables are not popular at all in Mongolia.

 Irish girl in an African t-shirt eating Russian sprats in Mongolia. She sure gets around.

Vanessa takes out Bill. This could be considered a surprise - what's more surprising is that Bill is actually awake.

 Dondov's new wives farewell him while his future daughter in law looks on in the background.

After saying goodbye to the horses and the wranglers we squeeze back in the vans. There aren't enough seats so we build a seat made of tents for Marisa.

 The hardcore folk who can face backwards while driving and not puke. Here poor Jen gets the short straw and is coping with only a seat for a quarter of a buttock.

 Back in Tosontsengel we stock up on essentials (like beer) at the the general store. The roads are really wide here and it feels just like a wild west town. 

 All manner of folk pulled up while we were waiting. Some on vehicles and some on foot and some floating on a cloud of vodka. It was their first day of Nadaam so vodka was flowing.

 The boy was taking his job of not letting go of the girl's hand extremely seriously.

While you might be noticing her outfit you should also check out his t-shirt. Machine guns. Awesome.

 Bill on the tents having a van nap.

 We travel to a tourist ger camp close to lake Tellmen for our first night in a bed for what seems like an age. Hot showers had been hinted at but these didn't eventuate so we consoled ourselves with a trip to the lake for sunset instead.

 These are religious structures. You are supposed to circle them three times but only in a certain direction. I forgot the direction so didn't circle them for fear of getting it wrong and reversing the earth's gravity or something equally dire.

 After sleeping on a thin inflatable matt for days these lumpy beds were luxury. One of the coziest sleeps I have ever had.

 The long white table in the middle of nowhere. It was a beautiful sunny morning and in our still grubby states it felt completely weird to be sitting at a table with a pristine white table cloth.

 Deer stones are found throughout Mongolia they have carvings of deer in them and some say they probably date back to the bronze age - 1000 BC. 

 Protecting historical items doesn't seem to be high on the agenda. I guess when you have winters of below -40 c you tend to focus on more pressing needs.

 Tom watches a storm approach. With such big views it was easy to see weather coming.

 Bill elected to sleep under the stars one night and fortified by a few shots of Johnnie Walker he did. In the morning he said he woke to birds of prey circling above him. Vanessa informed him in her lovely Irish accent that it was because he had 'the smell of death' about him.

 We were trying to find a lake but ended up at the wrong lake - dandruff lake instead of black lake. Here were are taking a shortcut across the steppe. A five hour van day turned into a ten hour van day and we were all somewhat deranged by the end of it. John kindly decided not to charge us extra for seeing the additional lake so really we go excellent value for money.

 Finally we reach the right lake - Khar Nuur perched right on the end of the Gobi desert.

 (Tom's photo) Me about to scale the singing dunes.

 Tom the innocent looking more like Tom the happy traveller. 

 Bill lost in the dunes.

 (Tom's photo) Bill either dead or suffering from yet another narcoleptic spell.

(Tom's photo)  We're about to slide down the dunes on our butts now to induce the 'singing'. It sounded more like a fart than a song and resulted in us finding sand in uncomfortable places for the next few days. Including our ears.

 Wind at the top of the dunes

 Amy by the campfire

 Nudey dips all round were on the agenda here. With loads of small, secluded bays we took turns wandering off with our biodegradable soap and towels for a quiet wash. Lovely to be clean but the water was freezing cold.

A teensy wee airport to fly us back to the bustle and pick pockets of Ulaan Baator.

 Our plane gets delayed so John buys us into the VIP lounge.

 The plane gets delayed again - this time to the next day and John negotiates that we stay overnight in the airport in some empty rooms. This would be the boys' room.

 Vanessa in the girls' boudoir.

 Exploring the empty airport was fun. They locked us in and because it was such a rabbit warren of rooms safety-first John made sure we had a fire escape route planned. I love the poor quality of the stencilling of the airline name here. It really inspires confidence.

 Marisa and Bill cause a scandal by occupying the same bed.

 Breakfast in an empty airport. We contemplate the elusive hot shower that we still have not had.

 After lunch in Ulaan Baator we get back in vans and head straight out to Khustai National Park. When we arrive we are treated to a performance of music and throat singing. Incredible.

 A rather bad video of an amazing performance.

 The eldest male is supposed to open the vodka. Bill does the honours. We're in this park to hopefully see some wild life, mainly the Przewalski's horse which is a sub species of horse that is endangered and roams free in the park. Most of us had planned to get up at dawn to hike up a mountain to a viewing spot but some of us didn't make it (possibly due to the bear and vodka). We did see the horses the next day though from the vans when we were leaving. Still no hot shower by the way.

 Tom taking a picture of a flower and butterfly. He's a real man's man.

 The president in a golden del opens Mongolia national festival - Naadam. It consists of horse racing (kids race bareback from 10 - 30km), wrestling and archery. We went for the first day and saw the opening ceremony and some of the wrestling. 

 Folk in traditional costumes in the crowd

 At the stadium ready for the action. I don't have many decent shots but the opening ceremony was awesome. Parachutists landing in the little stadium and taking out dancers. Military boys doing mock battles. Acrobatic horsemen doing stunts to an eighties metal sounding song about Chinggis Khan sung by a guy in a beetle juice suit.

 Vanessa looking squeaky clean modelling hats. We had our first hot shower the night before. The shower in my room caused my power to go off after five minutes of water so the sight of me with dripping hair at the hotel reception asking them to fix my power became a common sight.

 The best entertainment ever. We eagerly watched each one land to see if they would hit anyone dancing on the field.

 Baby wrestler in half an outfit. I did stay and watch some wrestling in the hope of seeing a wardrobe malfunction but without luck.

 Hello Kitty represented.

 The buildings in UB are quite Russian and seem to frown at you in a disapproving manner.

 Parliament building. That's a big ass statue of Chinggis at the front.

 The wonderfully named 'State Department Store'. There are two places to shop in UB, this store or the black market. Things are pretty expensive here (except vodka which is really cheap).

 Amy and Marisa invite us for dinner at their apartment. This sounds like a wonderful idea after the craziness of the night before at a Mongolian night club (they have half time shows!) and the bottle of vodka we drank. Nothing like a bit of home cooking to cure a hangover.

 The view from their window. Gers amongst apartment buildings.

 A shot of the now dwindling family. I was departing that day, Toni and Bronwyn the next day leaving just Bill to carry on to the next tour and complete his narcoleptic odyssey in the Altai mountains. We're emulating a Russian family portrait here so trying to look as grim as possible.