In the same fashion as when I arrived at Ulaanbaatar, I gathered my luggage and exited the tiny airport looking for my driver. Early on, I had confirmed with the guest house owner that someone would be here to pick me up with a sign. After looking around anxiously, I soon realized once again that something had gone wrong, and once again I asked a taxi driver to use his phone. This time I actually called and spoke to the owner (Dava) and told her what had happened. The solution was to go with the taxi driver and meet her in town so she could take me back to the guest house. So far, I am 0 for 2 in terms of smooth transport from the airport.

Twenty minutes later, we met in Moron (Murun) and headed back toward the guest house. The ride was over an hour. There were three other people in the back: a couple that she knew and their kid. Dava was giving them a ride, and in turn, they were helping her haul an oven heater to be used in one of the gers. Along the way, there were two officers on the side of the road, looking for a ride into town. The fact that there were already three people in the back didn’t seem to matter, so they climbed in and packed themselves in like sardines. Dava stated, “This is how we do it in Mongolia.”

Things seemed fine until we came across some roads that were under water. One of them looked like it was totally washed out. This surprised Dava, and she said that in nine years she had never seen a “river” along here. So, once again, my now-arch nemesis (rain-produced rivers) and I crossed paths.

There were some tractors along the road, and we were told that for 10,000 Mongolian Tughrik ($3.75), they would pull cars through the water. Luckily, it was much less dramatic, although visually, it was still rather exciting. Afterwards, Dava said she felt like she could have done it herself. She soon had a chance to prove it as we passed through a few other washed-out parts of the road.

Once we arrived, I had someone escort me to my cabin. Yes, I said cabin and not ger. Based on the descriptions on the website and through our email exchanges, it sounded like if I wanted to be in a ger, then I would need to be with others. Being me, I decided to opt for whichever option would let me sleep alone. So, I chose a cabin. Soon I realized that it would have actually been more comfortable to be in a ger, but such is life.

I unpacked and then took a quick look around. Unlike the previous place I stayed, this place had a larger scale feel to it in terms of the number of gers and other facilities.

The outhouses were actually quite decent, and inside they provided some precise instructions on how to use and not use the toilets. Always helpful.

The place also provided hot showers, which I later tried out and was quite satisfied with considering the environment. They also offered laundry service, which I would later end up needing.

The biggest ger on site was the dining ger. Inside, it was actually rather opulent but cozy, and it still felt authentically Mongolian. Here, you can get Wi-Fi; however, it states that only five people can be connected at any one time. This was rather annoying the first night because there were a number of other guests staying over. Luckily, they left the next morning.

There wasn’t much to do that day other than eat and just relax. For dinner, I assumed they would serve something Mongolian, but instead I was treated to some pasta. I assume that at least the butter was homemade from yak’s milk. Either way, the meal was delicious.

When it came time for breakfast and lunch, the meals became Mongolian. The breakfast was this kind of minced mutton soup with a thick milky liquid (possibly yak’s milk) and some flat, chewy circular noodles. For lunch, it was Khuushuur. See below. I could have done without breakfast, but lunch was good.

Since I hadn’t discussed any specific times to do any of the activities I was interested in yet, there was only one thing that I could do the next day, and that was to walk down to visit Lake Khovsgol. That is, after all, the main reason I came here. After getting instructions on how to get there, I first walked through the other ger camps to finally reach the road and got some items at a convenience store that was labeled as a “supermarket.” That term is used quite loosely here. The actual walk to the lakeshore area where the boat rides and souvenir stands were was a solid thirty to forty minutes. Along the way, I encountered numerous cows and yaks who were clearly on their way to work, which caused some traffic congestion.

I passed by the many tourist ger camps on both sides of the road.

After I finally arrived at the boat/souvenir area, I had to walk through a still-freshly muddy path before getting to the shore. Once there, I just stood around for a while, trying to figure out how the boat ride situation worked. Eventually, one of the boat operators tried to tell me, in as few words as possible, that I needed to wait for four people to take the boats out. One of the other boat operators spoke slightly better English and just told me to wait for people to board his boat. No problem.

Finally, we all boarded, put on our life vests, and headed out. I was told that there is a spot further down the lake known as “Magic Island,” which isn’t really correct. It’s not because it isn’t magical, but because it’s not an island. It’s actually a peninsula, but I suppose the word “peninsula” doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily as “island” does.

Since it was sunny and warm, I decided to just wrap my hoodie around my waist rather than wear it. It wasn’t long before I realized this was a mistake, as the cool air became even cooler as the boat sped up. While heading toward Magic Island, the driver tried to “wow” us with some skillful zig-zagging back and forth, which the local tourists enjoyed. By this point, my thirst for thrill-seeking was already thoroughly quenched, and I just wanted to make it to the island without capsizing. Finally, we docked and were given fifteen minutes to walk about, but this is Mongolia, so the time limit was really more just waiting until everyone was back or until the driver got impatient and honked his boat horn.

After we got back into the boat and returned to shore, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I hadn’t actually done very much, but I was just happy that I was able to partake in something that was obviously not catered to foreigners, so it felt like you were participating in something more local. I will also note that it was interesting to see only Mongolian tourists here. I didn’t see any obvious foreigners (at least not there at the boats, but I did see one near the souvenir stands and several on the road) or even Korean tourists, just fellow Mongolians. It gave the place a more authentic feel.

The next day, I set off on the horseback riding trip to the nomadic family’s home along the lake. There was a French couple staying here for two months. I think they made an agreement where they could stay for free while offering to give her sons English lessons (and yes, there are plenty of people whose second language is English and teach English as a second language). We were given roughly an eight-hour time frame. This time, when we mounted our horses, though, the initial riding rules were even more brief, and we didn’t get helmets or anything to place on our shins like before. Perhaps this was because we were not expected to actually ride the horses in the traditional sense but rather to just ride on them while we made our way to the family.

The trip started off a bit rough when I was placed with the smallest horse, who didn’t seem to want to move. My attempts at hitting my feet against it’s sides didn’t do much. Also, the saddle seemed too small, and the handle in front felt too thin and uncomfortable. In fact, everything felt uncomfortable, including my calves, as the stirrups kept rubbing against them. Finally, I got frustrated enough that when the local guide saw that I wasn’t moving much, he finally stopped to re-tie the rope and held onto it so that my horse would have to follow alongside his. Of course, I was also swatting away flies the whole time. We made several stops within a few hours, which helped some, but I couldn’t help but feel like this wasn’t quite what I thought it would be. Again, lots more fly-swatting commenced. After the second stop, I was told to switch horses with the other guy (Steve). This helped a bit, at least at first, but then I once again had problems with the horse not wanting to follow along.

Eventually we stopped next to a small stream to eat our packed lunch, which was only a simple sub-like sandwich. The whole morning, the skies were blue and the sun was shining. This sounds idyllic except that I was wearing jeans, and I also had my blue hoodie attached to me to help with the sun and the flies. I ate part of the sandwich, but all I was really interested in was water. I brought some with me, but I didn’t want to drink it all before I saw what the water situation was like at the family home.

Three quarters of the way through the trip my butt was sore from all the damned trotting and feeling hot and thirsty. By this point, I had taken my arms out of the sleeves of the hoodie and just worn it by the hood to cope with the heat. My horse also kept wanting to stray from the path, and I kept having to try to coax it back. This took energy—energy that I was quickly running out of. The other horses seemed slower too, and only the guide was still trotting fast up ahead.

Finally, by the time we got close to our destination, on our last break the three of us lied down on the grass for some much needed relief from our saddles. We had managed to make the trip in about six hours. We then asked the guide to just let us walk the other few kilometers or so that were left. Our butts and legs hurt so much that we couldn’t bear the idea of riding any further and I never wanted to trot again. The guide let us walk and took the rest of the horses with him to the family’s home. At this point I was so annoyed, exhausted and thirsty that I seriously considered demanding to be taken back to the guest house by car if there wasn’t any water available on arrival.

Along the way, I had intended to take some photos of the scenery, but it wasn’t long before I realized that it wasn’t going to be as scenic as I had hoped. I ended up not bothering to snap any photos, especially since I had to concentrate on my fly-swatting technique and keep the horse from going AWOL (Absent Without Official Leave, for anyone not familiar with the acronym).

When we arrived over the hill, I saw that their home wasn’t quite as close to the shore as it sounded. We greeted the family, and they showed us to our little guest cabin.

After we put our things down, we were asked to join the family in their kitchen for some food. They didn’t speak English, but we were able to communicate by pantomiming. They offered us hot yak’s milk and some mutton soup. I asked about water, and soon they brought in some piping hot water. Yum, just what we foreigners enjoy on a hot, dry day. Oh well, it was water, and I was glad to gulp it regardless of the temperature. We then hung out for a bit as the kids showed us their coloring.

Later on, we tried to get one of the kids to say our names. He could say my name OK, but he kept saying Steve as “Stee…p.” It was hilarious and cute.

After we finished, we went back to the cabin, and I decided to join Steve and his girlfriend (I’m sorry, I can’t remember her name) for a stroll to the lake shore. Along the way, we ended up having to take off our socks and shoes since there was too much soggy grass and marsh to walk through. We finally made it and just relaxed for a while. I decided to sit with my feet submerged in the icy, cold water. I felt rejuvenated.

After we headed back, I looked around a bit. There were many goats, sheep, cows, and yaks, as evidenced by the piles of poop everywhere.

After exploring around for a bit, we were summoned again into the family ger for dinner. It may have only been a couple hours at most since we had had the soup, and now it was time for dinner. Mongolians love to eat, that’s for sure.

This time around, I had more of an opportunity to look at all the food and pots and pans that were housed inside the ger. We could see all the dairy products they made, as well as the cookies, bread, butter, and jam they set out for us.

Here you can also see the sun-dried cheese biscuit that I mentioned in my previous post. It was very dry and firm and had a strong flavor, but I didn’t mind it. The bread tasted like a sour dough, and the yak’s butter was creamy and rich.

Dinner consisted of simple mutton-filled dumplings (buuz) with some carrots and potatoes. I saw one of the girls rolling the dough and forming the wraps earlier.

After dinner, there was still plenty of evening sunlight, so I went around and took more photos. Eventually, I joined the others in a game of circle volleyball. I’ve noticed that the kids here seem to really know how to hit a volleyball. It was simple, but also a great way to interact with the kids.

Eventually it became darker (though never truly dark), and it was time to turn in. One of the family members came by to light the fire in the stove for us before bed.

The next morning, we were all sore from the horses, and we mentioned how difficult it was going to be to ride all the way back. I discovered that not only did I have blister marks on my butt, but I also had bruises on my lower right shin as well as my upper left inner thigh. Steve had a particularly rough night, as he got up late at night to throw up several times. By now, he was in no shape to ride for six hours in the sun, refused to eat any breakfast, and instead chose to crouch down on the grass with his sunglasses and hat while we ate inside.

Breakfast consisted of some of the same things we had for a snack before: bread and butter with some sweet fruit spread. There was also another kind of strong-flavored hard cheese snack that tasted very tangy and actually sweet. I wondered if they actually put sugar into it. I’ll never know, but I was hooked on them. I was told that they have probiotics too, so all the more reason to stock up. Of course, there was more hot yak’s milk.

After breakfast, we discussed Steve’s condition, and I said that it was at least worth contacting Dava to let her know that none of us wanted to ride all the way back. His girlfriend decided to ask them to contact Dava. She and I both talked to her and let her know that Steve was ill and unable to ride back. Dava thought that I would be able to ride back alone with the guide, but then I chimed in and let her know that all of us were quite tired and sore and that none of us felt up to making the horse ride back. This was clearly not anticipated, and so Dava said that she was busy today and was going into town (Murun) and that perhaps someone could arrive that evening or tomorrow morning to take us back. So, we were stuck there for an extra day and night.

To pass the time, I started playing circle volleyball again with some of the kids. Later, one of the other kids, an older boy named “Diggy” (or Dige, I’m not sure), joined in. It turned into a game of circle soccer. Finally, he asked if I wanted to play basketball. Apparently, he knew a bit of English, which I wasn’t expecting. So we all went over to play basketball with their handmade backboard and hoop. It was difficult to avoid keeping the ball from bouncing and rolling through the nearby piles of animal poop, and eventually it became futile, so I just had to accept that animal poop would be a part of our lives, whether I liked it or not. The sun was out and beating down on us. I put on some sun screen the day before but didn’t bring any with me as I didn’t anticipate us staying here longer than planned.

After finishing the game, Steve’s girlfriend mentioned playing “around the world.” This went on, and most of us advanced to different parts, except for her. Eventually, Diggy ended up winning. The kids then showed us how to make little flower bud “catapults” that involved tying the stem down and around your finger and then making a loop around the bud, then pulling back on it until the flower bud popped off. This was again very simple childhood fun, but it made for more time to interact and bond with the kids. I finally got the hang of it and enjoyed launching little buds back at them.

When I got tired, I decided to leave and wondered further away to explore more of the hillside area in front of the home. It was nice having the stream or riverbed nearby. As I wondered further away, I noticed something white and fluffy in the distance. As I got closer, I noticed that it was a sheep lying on its side, motionless. When I got close up, I saw the flies swarming around it; it was dead for sure. But the strange part was that I didn’t see any cuts or bite marks, but rather that its head was twisted backwards, like its neck was broken. I wondered how and why this had occurred. Was it sick? Was it badly injured and unable to be kept? I’ll never know.

The rest of the day, I just spent my time waiting for the next meal. As the evening arrived, the clouds had gathered in the distance, and I could tell it was raining. I wondered how long it would be until it made its way here. Some more family members showed up around dinner time, so I wondered how that might affect the rest of our stay, but it didn’t seem to change anything.

When it did finally start to rain, the temperature had really dropped. I stayed on the porch of our cabin to watch the goats shift around. Eventually, one of them made its way over to me and was smart enough to notice the shelter that the porch area provided, so it found a spot and hunkered down. Soon after, some other goats followed suit. It was quite cute to see them wondering over to join us. The wind apparently caused the stove pipe in our cabin to topple over, so we had to have the family come and fix it.

After the storm had finished, the goats came out to roam around. Some wondered over to the wood pile and began climbing on it. Goats just love to climb when they can.

Later in the evening, I noticed some of the goats were gathered around where the straps that held the horse posts were. At first, I thought they were trying to eat it, but as I got closer, I saw that they were just rubbing their horns with it.

Finally, the next morning came. Steve was feeling better, and he proclaimed, “Steve is back!” We got up a bit late and waited for breakfast. We were also wondering when we would get our ride back to our guest house. Soon enough, we were told that we would be leaving soon after breakfast. As we finished eating and waited for the ride, I snapped a few more photos. The kids provided plenty of cuteness.

Outside, I saw some family members gathering around to help dismember a sheep that was recently killed. Before they started taking it apart, I had walked over to see it. Around it’s chest/stomach area, I saw a slit that was closed up using some kind of wooden pin. I was told by Steve that the way they kill them is to cut a hole there and stick their hand in to squeeze the heart until it stops. This method ensures that nothing gets wasted, not even the blood.

I’m not a vegan or vegetarian. I eat meat and totally support the idea of eating locally, humanely, and with pastured and raised animals, but I am always concerned about the way animals are killed. I was also told that the way they castrate sheep and goats is to cut a hole in the scrotum sack and just pluck them out by hand. This sent shivers down my spine, as I think any man can understand. I know that chemical castration exists and that it has been used to sterilize some criminals. I just wish there was this same type of method that could be used to avoid obvious pain.

Anyway, seeing them take apart the sheep gave me a good up-close and personal moment to not only see the process but to also appreciate what it’s like to raise and slaughter your own meat. They really use just about every part of the sheep you can think of for something. I saw the man skinning it while the others were busy removing the inner organs. One of the girls removed the stomach, which looked huge, and was emptying out the green sludge-like contents into a bowl. I imagine it didn’t smell good, but then Steve reminded me that it’s only digested grass. Still, the bright green goo was a bit jarring.

*Caution: I took a photo during this process and posted it below. If you are squeamish, then please scroll past it quickly.

Before we left, we asked the family to gather for a photo. They were great and hospitable hosts, and it was nice to have a chance to spend time with them and get a more authentic and intimate look at daily nomadic life in Mongolia.

We said our goodbyes and got into the truck. Steve had to sit in the truck bed while his girlfriend and I sat inside. She held the little boy on her lap while I was in charge of holding a plate of food. I don’t know what it was, but it looked like some kind of dairy product. He drove us over to a family ger further away, where we dropped off the little boy, and then proceeded back home. The ride took about an hour, and it was filled with bumps, muddy paths, and crossing over streams and small rivers.

After I got into my cabin and put down my things, I headed over to the dining ger. Inside, I saw a little critter making its way across the floor to the door.

I asked to do some laundry and then had a nice shower. For dinner, we were served more pasta. I spent part of the evening sitting outside, looking out at the clouds and rain in the distance. It was gloomy, but it gave me something to watch that didn’t require much brain activity.

I collected the last of my laundry that had dried and packed up my things before bed. The next morning I had breakfast, paid my bill, and was off to the airport back to Ulaanbaatar.

The only reason I decided to stay a night in Ulaanbaatar was because the owner of the next guest house told me that there were no buses leaving on that Saturday. I figured spending a night relaxing wouldn’t be so bad. However, I was not thrilled with the place that I had chosen. The desk staff barely spoke any English, which didn’t bother me much, but then when I got to my room, I noticed there was no A/C unit, no Wi-Fi, and no hot water. I noticed there were no towels either, but those were delivered later. I asked about the Wi-Fi and was told to wait about an hour. Almost an hour later, someone came to my room with the router and set it up on the table. This meant that I would have a better signal, but at the same time, it also meant that I was basically responsible for the Wi-Fi for the other guests. After a couple hours, I started to get a bit of a headache, and I think it was because the router was so close by. I decided that at midnight I would turn it off so I could sleep, and if anyone wanted it after that, too bad. They would have to wait until the morning.

When I asked about the hot water, it took them a while before they gave me any information as to why it was off. Based on what they said (or rather, based on what was typed into our translation apps), it seemed like there was a broken pipe somewhere nearby, and no one had any idea when it would be fixed. I went the whole night with no hot water and had to briefly shower with cold water. Remember, at night, temperatures drop significantly, so this didn’t help things any. The in-house restaurant apparently only served breakfast, even though the app that I used said that all meals were served here. It also said there was an ATM onsite, which was clearly false. I was not happy with Booking.com’s description of this place on its app. Luckily, there was an actual small supermarket across the lot.

For dinner, I met up with someone who was not familiar with this area. He asked if I liked Khuushuur (the fried hot pocket with mutton), and I said yes, but when we went inside of that place, he said it looked too dirty, so we agreed upon eating at a Korean place across the road. Luckily, that worked out fine. Side note: There are a lot of Korean restaurants here, and I was told that they are really for the locals rather than Korean tourists.

That evening, I didn’t get much sleep because of the KTV place next door, and people kept coming in and out of the lobby below all evening. The desk staff didn’t seem to do anything about this. The next morning, after breakfast and check-out, the guest house owner emailed me to ask about my evening, and after complaining about the lousy hotel, she told me that a friend of hers was also in Ulaanbaatar and was going to her place and that perhaps he could give me a ride there. After this was confirmed, I waited for the driver, and it wasn’t long before he arrived. I thought I would be the only one he was picking up, but after taking some weird side streets instead of heading towards some main roads, it was clear that he was also picking up some other guests who were headed there. They were two backpackers from a French-speaking area of Switzerland. The journey took a good five hours, with a stop for lunch.

The third part of my journey will pick up with me arriving at the guest house in Kharkhorin, the ancient capital of Mongolia!