Into the Orkhon

Chapter 3 of Mongolia Honeymoon resumes back in the Mongolian capital of Ulaanbaatar with a busted bicycle after a night taxi out of the Gobi Desert.

Two nights was our plan on our accidental, early return to Ulaanbaatar. Claire wanted the detour short enough not to further derail the trip, and I concurred. A quick fix of new rim tape and a scan of the bicycle, then off we’d be. Unfortunately, it took four nights.

Though we were able to get rim tape easily enough where our contacts had earlier faltered, it was a shoddy brand that gave me another flat riding around the city. Incomprehensible! On my ireful return to the shop, they humored me with an adage: “that’s Mongolia.”

I thought that was bull, and sure enough got a flat on our ride to the bus terminal. We resignedly booked another, less shabby hotel, and I went to a different, much farther shop and got a second tape. That one has held, though for some odd reason they then managed to compromise my other tube with an air pump. The timing of that, again, flat the next morning on the way to the terminal, delayed us an additional day, but we made do with a cultural show with skilled acrobats and musicians, and thankfully I haven’t had further trouble since.

Even though it sucked losing this much time, it turned out to be a necessary interim step. An important side quest of our Mongolia trip was being outside of Japan while my visa processed, and it turns out coming back to Ulaanbaatar was necessary to get the paperwork in with an appropriate lead time. We were expecting a simple stamp at the embassy, but it turned out they outsource the visa processing, at significant expense of money and time to us. If we had come back with a thin margin, I’d surely have been mired in a diplomatic snafu. Instead it’s getting worked on and I’ve been relieved of carrying my passport around, for better or worse.

Our timing departing UB was splendid: we joined the traffic on a full bus along a full road out west to Kharkhorin. It was the biggest Mongolian holiday, Naadam, which goes for five days and features feats of strength in archery, wrestling, and horse racing, amid many other cultural displays. We haven’t yet witnessed the celebrations, having stayed mostly on course biking through the country, but the traffic for it was real.

In Kharkhorin, we’d re-assemble our bikes and see the ancient walled city of Karakorum, which was once the center of power for the Mongol Empire many centuries ago. Now it is a serene place to walk, home to the Erdene Zuu Monastery, devout Buddhists and their impressive artifacts, despite Soviet era oppression and pogroms.

The area is a fertile valley, with trees (finally, trees) and a year-round source of water, the Orkhon River, which we’d follow in a U-shape west to Tsetserleg for this part of the journey. Hugging the river was a bucolic few days’ ride to the Orkhon Waterfall near the town of Bat-Ulzii. Still quite bumpy, hilly, and now muddy to boot, but at least we didn’t need to lug loads of water, especially since our cheap Evernew bladders burst in multiple places and soaked our belongings, with Claire’s paper maps a notable casualty.

We were going to get wet in this next section regardless. We left the touristic theatrics around the waterfall to take the road less traveled to Tsenkher further up the Orkhon. The road yields to the floodplain of the river repeatedly, and we would crisscross it via fording against the sometimes waist-high currents. It was pretty scary at first but eventually became routine, though it interminably slowed our progress. Once you’re wet and accept it, which isn’t so hard on a sunny, temperate day, it can be somewhat pleasant and fun pushing through cool, fast-flowing water.

What’s less fun is equipment failure, and this leg of our journey ended with another breakdown, alas. This time Claire’s saddle snapped, astonishing both of us. Rim tape I understand, but who can prepare for that? Again, we were miraculously a kilometer away from the only shop for hours in any direction, and one of the first people to pass gave us a ride up to Tsetserleg, the provincial capital of Arkhangai Aimag and our next rest point.

The staff at Fairfield Guest House here deserve a shoutout. The owner helped us order a new saddle from Ulaanbaatar, sparing us from a worse setback, and helped us plan the last leg of the route, amidst other small things, as well as comfortable lodging. We’re both sick to boot as I finish penning this, but we’re optimistic about moving soon and continuing our honeymoon adventure. All the hurdles are part of the fun! Tune in soon for further adventures in the Khangai!