One day, a Mongolian herdsman on a motorcycle steals my bike pump. Next day, another Mongolian herdsman on a motorcycle lends me his and takes me to the closest town to buy one. Armed with a new pump and lots of patches, I'm ready to roll again.
But if it has been already extremely difficult to ride on sandy and rocky tracks with small 20 inch wheels and MTB tires, it is clear to me now that I won't make it on the tough Mongolian roads with my narrow (1.35 inch) rear replacement road tire, with barely any traction. With a heavy heart, I decide to return to Ulaangom, from where I will try to reach Tsetserleg, around 700 kms away and where I can resume cycling on the more manageable 520 km road to Ulaanbator.
Two days earlier in Ulaangom, I had bumped into a group of paleontologists doing field work in the area. One of them, had given me his mobile number and it occurs to me to give him a call and find out if they're heading to the capital any time soon. Good news is they're planning to go there in the next couple of days. Bad news is that one of their vehicles has broken down and they're waiting for a replacement piece to be air freighted from Ulanbator.
Whatever happens, I must return to Ulaangom, from where there are more options available to head towards the capital. Night is falling and as I'm getting ready to pitch my tent, I can see in the distance a cloud of dust. I run to the road and ask this car to stop. They agree to give me a ride on the dustiest car I've ever seen. Inside there's the driver, a man of 35, and three elderly people, two men and a woman, dressed in traditional Mongolian garb and... drunk. Soon they produce a bottle of vodka and I take a sip. Everyone is drinking and singing as the car speeds along the bumpy and dark road. I wonder if we'll ever make it to Ulaangom. We loose our way a couple of times but after three hours we reach Ulaangom. The driver, Bayaana, invites me to stay at his place for the night. His family prepares a very special meal: noodles with mutton meat. As a vegetarian, I'm not looking forward to this. Next day, I feel sick in my stomach. I spend an hour removing dust and sand from the bike and I head for the hotel where I meet Bayaara, the Mongolian geologist whose vehicle is stuck and waiting for a piece from the capital. I have with me about 3 kilos of dried horse milk, cheese and bread from the generous Mongolian herdsman who helped me with the pump and the family in Ulaangom.
Bayaara is a character. In his early 40s, divorced and with two children living in the USA, this stout Mongolian is a chatterbox and a very entertaining story teller. Animated by early morning beers, he tells me about Mongolian people's inner compass, how to survive in the field, the freedom of the Mongolian steppes, mining, natural versus processed food and America. The desired piece from Ulaanbator arrives and the second hand Japanese four wheel drive with a million aftermarket parts is finally fixed. In the afternoon, we head out of Ulaangom to meet the team of international paleontologist, some 100 kms away. A couple of kilometers out of town, the car breaks down again and is towed back to the hotel. The second vehicle, a four wheel drive Russian mini van, leaves again to bring the paleontologists back and I'm in Ulaangom again, in the company of Bayaara and dead tired. When I go to bed, Bayaara is watching Mongolian news on TV and playing a 1st person shooter on his laptop, drinking beer and smoking. I fall asleep very quickly.
The following day, the team arrives. It's Martin from Canada, Anna, from the US and Rob from England. They're looking for fish fossils. It's decided that the Russian van will tow the Japanese SUV back to Ulaanbator and the rest of us, the three paleontologists, a Mongolian geologist and the cook, will hire a private minivan. In the afternoon we leave. The weather has changed very rapidly, from scorching heat to a sand storm, then rain and later very strong wind. We spend our first night in a ger 80 kms from Ulaangom. It's windy, chilly and bleak for three days until we reach Tsetserleg.
In Tsetserleg, I bid farewell to the paleontologists. From here, I will ride the bike the remaining 520 kms to Ulaanbator.
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