Last leg to Ulanbataar

Photos here. In Tsetserleg I'm ready to tackle the last 520 kms or so to Ulaanbataar. The asphalt road begins here but it vanishes after 20 kms and reappears again shortly before Karakorum, the ancient capital of Mongolia. As I'm approaching Karakorum, I seek shelter from the scorching sun the in the shade of a fly-ridden cafe by the side of the road and on my way out I see the unmistakeable silhouette of two cyling tourists but it takes me a few seconds to react and when I stop the bike, the cyclists are upon me. They are Anka and Uve, a couple from Stuttgart, 46 and 49 respectively. We make plans to have a beer together at the only cafe with a veranda in Karakorum, but when we get there we find out that this one of two non-drinking days when selling alcohol is prohibited so we have to drink indoors. This is not a problem because there's a big table in the courtyard where the gers are located and we have an excellent view of a clear and starry sky. I enjoy the company of the German cyclists. Anka and Uve are two adventurous travellers who have met relatively recently and this is their first cycling trip together. Anka is a freelance editor and Uve is a programmer for IBM. Next day I visit Erdene Zuu monastery and the following day it's my birthday. Anka and Uve give me an apple cake and soon make their way to Ulaanbataar on a bus and from there they will catch a plane back to Germany. To celebrate my birthday and because there's no one else left in the ger camp (there's a group of French tourists the day before but they're all gone), I decide to hike in the Orkhon valley. I walk past the river where I have taken a bath the day before and I go up the mountains where I find myself amidst forests for the first time since entering Mongolia. I do occassionally see trees on the tops of distant hills and they always seem to be retreating, running out of sight. A limping dog accompanies me all the way for the whole day. When I return to Karakorum I'm going to buy some meat for my canine friend but he goes off to feed on the decompossing carcass of a cow.

The following day I run into yet more cycling tourists. They're Mike from Germany and Nichole from Switzerland. We make vague plans to camp together for the night but it doesn't happen. In the evening I notice lots of smoke clouds on the road but I can't see any fire and soon I realise that they're clouds of small flies, millions of them and they go into my eyes and mouth and soon I'm covered in them. As I can't find any discreet place to camp, I ask the occupants of a random ger for permission to pitch my next to them. Darkness sets in quickly, the wind is howling and I'm cooking some rice. Then the Mongolian herder comes out and asks me to try the meal I'm preparing and invites me in the ger for drinks and dinner. The ger is lit by a candle and the light from a wind up lantern. There are two freshly slaughtered sheep on the floor. The herder is carefully skinning and cutting up one of the sheeps. The woman is boiling meat on the stove. I'm offered the usual salty milky tea and bread sticks and I politely refuse to eat meat with the excuse that I'm full. Next day I come into the ger for breakfast and the woman is cracking the sheep skulls open with an iron rod. I bid farewell to these friendly people and hit the road. It's drizzling and very cold. If the Mongolian steppes are desolate, grey skies and strong winds make them look like otherwordly landscapes, where life is not possible. As I keep thinking how inhospitable and harsh Mongolia, there's always a ger in sight where I can turn to for a bit of warmth or hospitality.

At the end of the day, I reach Lun, 130 kms from Ulaanbataar and make a pit stop at a cafe, where a Mongolian geologist is helping me with the menu. At this stage, my staple food is 'tsuivan', a plate of noodles that can be prepared without meat. While I'm showing my map to the geologist, I catch of glimpse of Mike and Nichole, the cyclists I met the day before. We decide to share a room for the night and have a beer together. Mike cycled from Alaska to Patagonia and met Nichole in Bolivia. Mike's initial plan was to continue cycling to New Zealand but he went to Europe instead. He flew to Portugal and cycled to Nichole's, arriving during a snow storm. Mike and Nichole live together near Zurich.

80 kms before Ulaanbataar I take a detour to visit Khustain national park, where the famous Prewalski horses live. These horses became extinct in the wild and were successfully reintroduced in this park, where around 200 of them live. The road is very sandy and have to push the bike for long stretches but it's worthwhile and moving to see these horses roaming free.

The following day I  arrive in Ulaanbataar. After three weeks in Mongolia, it's hard to believe how busy and bustling the capital is. Traffic is heavy, streets are busy, shops are plentiful and international restaurants abound.