Stewart H
Registered user
At least the bike is getting lighter 
keep digging Oisin 
Stewart
keep digging Oisin Stewart
What goes around comes around... Dublin to New york
- Thread starter Oisin
- Start date
Hitching a ride in Mongolia
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I parked the bike close to a Ger and changed out of the motorcycle gear into my civilians. I knew I was completely lost because there was no traffic on the road of any description. Given that was the case I thought my best bet would be to hitch a ride to the nearest town, see if I could get a truck and then come back for the bike. Although a good 40% of me was very much in the mode of make a big bonfire of all the motorcycle stuff including the bike, and find a way to get to UlaanBaatar to then fly home.
This kid showed up called Fatso and we chapped on in each other’s dialect. I gave him the packed food I had in the bike, no way I would be camping tonight I told myself, it’s a town or nothing. Now giving food away when you in the middle of nowhere might sound like a dumb idea, but this kid needed some grub; I’m a big hefty bollix who could do with a few days of abstinence so as long as I had water I wasn’t panicking just yet.
He went into the GER and I presume gave the grub to his mother. About an hour later two dudes showed up on a motorcycle. I said when I came to Mongolia one of the things I wanted to see was the sinews of the great Mongol warriors, I wanted to know how these lads conquered the world armed with horses and GER’s. Well with these two lads I got my first glimpse. They were very friendly, welcoming and did their best to understand what I was saying to them. At one stage we were drawing in the sand distances, towns etc It all felt very "Geronimo"
They sat huddled looking at the problem with the bike and next thing I knew from deep within their coats they pulled out a multitude of mobile phones and SIM cards and started making phone calls while still continuing to study the bike. I explained as best I could what had happened and they kept silent in that squatting position that Orientals seem to be able to keep up for hours on end. After about ten minutes of it, my kneecaps would pop off. Two more men showed up and a woman who thanked me for the pasta and oatmeal.
Anyway, next thing I knew I was handed a phone and there was a girl who could speak broken English on the end of it. I explained everything that had happened so far, where I headed. She told me that I wasn’t where I thought I was, I wasn’t even close to the road to Altay and I’d veered over a 100km too far south….as the words came into my ears “100km off course”… I had the most vivid flashback of “forest gumping” on the Mongolian plane with my Scandinavia bound maps flying through the air.
“Oh fuck”
She said a sentence which sent a shockwave right through me: “No help will come to you where you are”, “Do you understand? No help will come that way?”
I asked her what should I do? She told me I had to make my way 28km to the north to a small town, and that the two guys (Starsky and hutch is what I was calling them) would show me the way, but I had to get myself and the bike there.
So the lads and myself took out a strap and tied up the back shock so it wasn’t rubbing off the back wheel and they set off with me following them to a town I’d never heard of. As I followed them I got the best lesson about riding in Mongolia, stay to the edges of the tracks, there’s less rivets and if the ground is flat just get off the road altogether and just go cross country.
With the shock tied up I felt that I could nurse the bike a long way and started to grow ideas of maybe getting it to Altay and shipping it to UlaanBaatar from there. We got to the town but there were no trucks, we were too far off the beaten path so I got Starsky and Hutch to show me to the road to Altay. It was now 5pm so I said I’d nurse it along till 9pm, then camp and go again all day tomorrow. From what I had gathered I was 50km from another small town and could get water/something to eat there as well.
I was overcome with gratitude that these lads had come so far out of their way to help me out but as I was soon to find out, the Mongolians are different class when it comes to helping you out. I shook there hands vigorously as we said goodbye, they were great.
The rivets wouldn’t go away and without the back shock the bike continued to shake uncontrollably and every 10km or so I had to get off and reseat the panniers and give the bike a quick look over.
Then disaster struck, The clutch lever went loose and I couldn’t change gear.
I looked under the bike and what had happened was the rear shock as a result of being tied up had pushed forward and damaged the clutch cable, all my clutch fluid had drained away into the desert. Well that was it I told myself, you are well and truly fucked Obi-wan, proper fucked!
I waited and waited in a gathering dust storm for a truck to come by or a car that would take me to the nearest town, probably the one I just left a couple of hours previous. At dusk one showed up and the three guys who were in the truck all went hell for leather trying to fix the clutch lever. I asked them could they take me and the bike to the town of Altay? Or even better Ulaanbaatar. They told me to come with them, sleep first and make decisions tomorrow. "Go with you? ehmmmm where exactly are we going?" "to sleep!"
So the four of us loaded up the bike into the back of the small truck without a ramp (A heavy bastard!) and went on a ride to a town, not the one I was in previously, even more southerly if I read the direction right. (But then again I was so off course, Clondalkin village in Dublin Ireland could have been round the corner and I wouldn’t have noticed.)
We got to a small town and went into a GER which adjoined a small house(een). The house was full of kids, I wondered would they let me pitch the tent in the yard, I didn’t want to be putting anyone out. As it turned out we had only stopped there at 11pm to get some grub and do some welding on the truck.
The people in the house treated me like I was a king, and I was touched by how much kindness they were showing a complete stranger. In the midst of the scene were two pictures, one with a bird with the tits out getting kissed by some Romeo, with the banner “Love is love”; it seemed mental to be in a room with ten kids and 5 adults in Mongolia, not understanding a word, in a darkly lit room and there was a pair of jugs hanging out on the wall.
Once the welding was done we went on a night ride to another strange town in the absolute and utter boonies where a GER was situated. Everyone got out and went in and had tea. A cot in the GER was allocated to me, to which I said could I just camp instead (I’ve a thing about sleeping in a big room full of people who I don’t know, or can’t communicate with, and who may or may not be about to put me in a cauldron and eat me)I was still nervous, we'd driven 160km since my breakdown point, I'd no clue where we were. I pitched the tent and after 2am I crawled in and went asleep, sleeping fitfully as I tried to digest everything that had just happened.
I knew one thing; I didn’t deserve the kindness these people had shown me. Imagine it, picking someone off the road, loading up his stuff and bringing him back to your house where you put someone out of their bed to give to him. You give him food that you can ill afford and welcome him like he’s a long lost uncle.
I felt ashamed of myself when I thought about what I would do if I saw a Mongolian broke down by the side of the road in Ireland.
Over and out
Oisin
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I parked the bike close to a Ger and changed out of the motorcycle gear into my civilians. I knew I was completely lost because there was no traffic on the road of any description. Given that was the case I thought my best bet would be to hitch a ride to the nearest town, see if I could get a truck and then come back for the bike. Although a good 40% of me was very much in the mode of make a big bonfire of all the motorcycle stuff including the bike, and find a way to get to UlaanBaatar to then fly home.
This kid showed up called Fatso and we chapped on in each other’s dialect. I gave him the packed food I had in the bike, no way I would be camping tonight I told myself, it’s a town or nothing. Now giving food away when you in the middle of nowhere might sound like a dumb idea, but this kid needed some grub; I’m a big hefty bollix who could do with a few days of abstinence so as long as I had water I wasn’t panicking just yet.
He went into the GER and I presume gave the grub to his mother. About an hour later two dudes showed up on a motorcycle. I said when I came to Mongolia one of the things I wanted to see was the sinews of the great Mongol warriors, I wanted to know how these lads conquered the world armed with horses and GER’s. Well with these two lads I got my first glimpse. They were very friendly, welcoming and did their best to understand what I was saying to them. At one stage we were drawing in the sand distances, towns etc It all felt very "Geronimo"
They sat huddled looking at the problem with the bike and next thing I knew from deep within their coats they pulled out a multitude of mobile phones and SIM cards and started making phone calls while still continuing to study the bike. I explained as best I could what had happened and they kept silent in that squatting position that Orientals seem to be able to keep up for hours on end. After about ten minutes of it, my kneecaps would pop off. Two more men showed up and a woman who thanked me for the pasta and oatmeal.
Anyway, next thing I knew I was handed a phone and there was a girl who could speak broken English on the end of it. I explained everything that had happened so far, where I headed. She told me that I wasn’t where I thought I was, I wasn’t even close to the road to Altay and I’d veered over a 100km too far south….as the words came into my ears “100km off course”… I had the most vivid flashback of “forest gumping” on the Mongolian plane with my Scandinavia bound maps flying through the air.
“Oh fuck”
She said a sentence which sent a shockwave right through me: “No help will come to you where you are”, “Do you understand? No help will come that way?”
I asked her what should I do? She told me I had to make my way 28km to the north to a small town, and that the two guys (Starsky and hutch is what I was calling them) would show me the way, but I had to get myself and the bike there.
So the lads and myself took out a strap and tied up the back shock so it wasn’t rubbing off the back wheel and they set off with me following them to a town I’d never heard of. As I followed them I got the best lesson about riding in Mongolia, stay to the edges of the tracks, there’s less rivets and if the ground is flat just get off the road altogether and just go cross country.
With the shock tied up I felt that I could nurse the bike a long way and started to grow ideas of maybe getting it to Altay and shipping it to UlaanBaatar from there. We got to the town but there were no trucks, we were too far off the beaten path so I got Starsky and Hutch to show me to the road to Altay. It was now 5pm so I said I’d nurse it along till 9pm, then camp and go again all day tomorrow. From what I had gathered I was 50km from another small town and could get water/something to eat there as well.
I was overcome with gratitude that these lads had come so far out of their way to help me out but as I was soon to find out, the Mongolians are different class when it comes to helping you out. I shook there hands vigorously as we said goodbye, they were great.
The rivets wouldn’t go away and without the back shock the bike continued to shake uncontrollably and every 10km or so I had to get off and reseat the panniers and give the bike a quick look over.
Then disaster struck, The clutch lever went loose and I couldn’t change gear.
I looked under the bike and what had happened was the rear shock as a result of being tied up had pushed forward and damaged the clutch cable, all my clutch fluid had drained away into the desert. Well that was it I told myself, you are well and truly fucked Obi-wan, proper fucked!
I waited and waited in a gathering dust storm for a truck to come by or a car that would take me to the nearest town, probably the one I just left a couple of hours previous. At dusk one showed up and the three guys who were in the truck all went hell for leather trying to fix the clutch lever. I asked them could they take me and the bike to the town of Altay? Or even better Ulaanbaatar. They told me to come with them, sleep first and make decisions tomorrow. "Go with you? ehmmmm where exactly are we going?" "to sleep!"
So the four of us loaded up the bike into the back of the small truck without a ramp (A heavy bastard!) and went on a ride to a town, not the one I was in previously, even more southerly if I read the direction right. (But then again I was so off course, Clondalkin village in Dublin Ireland could have been round the corner and I wouldn’t have noticed.)
We got to a small town and went into a GER which adjoined a small house(een). The house was full of kids, I wondered would they let me pitch the tent in the yard, I didn’t want to be putting anyone out. As it turned out we had only stopped there at 11pm to get some grub and do some welding on the truck.
The people in the house treated me like I was a king, and I was touched by how much kindness they were showing a complete stranger. In the midst of the scene were two pictures, one with a bird with the tits out getting kissed by some Romeo, with the banner “Love is love”; it seemed mental to be in a room with ten kids and 5 adults in Mongolia, not understanding a word, in a darkly lit room and there was a pair of jugs hanging out on the wall.
Once the welding was done we went on a night ride to another strange town in the absolute and utter boonies where a GER was situated. Everyone got out and went in and had tea. A cot in the GER was allocated to me, to which I said could I just camp instead (I’ve a thing about sleeping in a big room full of people who I don’t know, or can’t communicate with, and who may or may not be about to put me in a cauldron and eat me)I was still nervous, we'd driven 160km since my breakdown point, I'd no clue where we were. I pitched the tent and after 2am I crawled in and went asleep, sleeping fitfully as I tried to digest everything that had just happened.
I knew one thing; I didn’t deserve the kindness these people had shown me. Imagine it, picking someone off the road, loading up his stuff and bringing him back to your house where you put someone out of their bed to give to him. You give him food that you can ill afford and welcome him like he’s a long lost uncle.
I felt ashamed of myself when I thought about what I would do if I saw a Mongolian broke down by the side of the road in Ireland.
Over and out
Oisin
brilliant report
The kindness of the people you have met puts everything into perspective doesn't it?
Ride safe
The kindness of the people you have met puts everything into perspective doesn't it?
Ride safe
What an incredible story... good luck and stay safe 
PJ1200
Registered user
What a brilliant read. Great pics and vids too . Looking forward to the rest.
Stay strong fella
. Looking forward to the rest.Stay strong fella
Astonishing journey, great to be sharing it, from the comfort of my desk, with you. Keep on trucking.
PapaLazarou
Guest
Awesome read... Makes the world seem awful big. Here i am watching a saturday evening dvd and wondering how places like the ones in Oisins pictures can be on the same planet as the one i see looking around me here. Inspirational stuff indeed.
Come on Ireland!
Come on Ireland!
Deleted account Cooperman
Registered user
At least you've got some time to wash the bike
Balls of unobtainium
Balls of unobtainium
The morning after....
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I slept pretty well in the tent and woke the next morning to the sound of what seemed like the whole village clearing their throat. With all the sand and dust that are in the air in the part of the world theres a whole pile of that “hold your finger to one nostril, and blow the snot out the other” thing going on; sans tissues of course.
There is no running water in most of the towns and there seems to be an etiquette that if you doing a number one that should just go straight on the ground to keep the dust down, and if it’s a number two well that should go into the crapper, a wooden thing built around a whole in the ground. The girl in the Ger boiled me some water for some noodles as the rest of the family ate their breakfast. The sound of slurping had been on the rise since I’d got to boonie Russia and in Mongolia it was like a concerto. If I was taking the pissing slurping soup I couldn’t have been any louder, yeah yeah I know, and I can’t sleep with the sound of a dripping tap either, I’m a neurotic fucker.
I walked around the village to find a shop. It’s hard to spend money in Mongolia I’m finding. It’s not that things are particularly cheap it’s just that there’s nothing particularly appetizing for sale in any of the shops. Most don’t have refrigeration so its chiefly dry goods for sale.
You can buy water, 2 liter bottles of Coke, lollipops, sweets, packets of biscuits freshly chiseled out of bomb shelters and other stuff which is edible but that you wouldn’t really eat. It’s all bought based on having a long shelf life. I still hadn’t managed to walk out of a shop yet with anything to eat that wasn’t sweets or water.
I’d gotten into the habit of buying about ten lollipops and distributing them to the curious kids who constantly come up to you, to say hello. The way the children take stuff off you is very gracious. They cup one hand under the other and wait for you to place it there as opposed to take it from you. It’s a small thing but seems so polite. The kids are so poor, with dirty faces and hands, when you chat away to them you can’t help but feel that kids shouldn’t have to live like this.
As I was picking up a couple of packets of biscuits to give to the family who let me stay by their Ger I heard a voice behind me saying “Where are you from?” It was Tushig. He worked as a construction lead building one of the roads out here taking coal from Mongolia to China. He used to live in Manchester and we got chatting about how the hell I ended up here. I explained to him where I thought I was, he just started laughing, by the depth of the laugh I wasn’t even close.
He invited me to stay in his place, he had a cook, a place to stay, I could speak English to him and he would sort out the bike stuff for me. The plan was that the guys who lived in the town would move the bike to another truck and then that truck would come and collect me the following day at his GER and take me to Ulaanbaatar. I was as most westerners are, initially suspicious, why are you helping me? what’s in it for you? But I followed my heart , Tushig seemed like a good guy and to be honest next to camping in the village it sounded like a great deal.
His driver drove the two of us over to where he stayed and we followed a single path out into the middle of nowhere and we stopped along the way to talk to some folks who were working for Tushig on the road, a really friendly bunch of fellows.
Then we continued on to his place. It turned out to be three Ger’s in the middle of nowhere. Once again I was stunned with his generosity but initially I was disappointed, at least in the village I could buy some water etc, I couldn’t do anything here. I asked him how many people normally sleep in each Ger, he replied seven.
We also talked about the truck going to Ulaanbaatar, how long would it take, when it would collect me. It had picked up some more collateral damage driving it around in the small van, with a 1000km to Ulaanbaatar on these roads the bike would be a bag of bolts by the time it got there. He told me not to worry, they would pack it softly. I wasn’t overly concerned, I reckoned the bike was fucked and with that the trip probably over so a couple more dents and breakages wouldn’t make any difference.
In all likelihood I’d be out here for two days, I looked around and asked myself what the hell am I going to do out here for two days?
Tushig told me that I needed to sleep, that I needed to rest, that I was stressed out. Once I’d done that things would be much better. They made room for me on one of the cots in the main Ger and I fell asleep to the sound of wood burning in the stove .
Over and out
The big fella
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I slept pretty well in the tent and woke the next morning to the sound of what seemed like the whole village clearing their throat. With all the sand and dust that are in the air in the part of the world theres a whole pile of that “hold your finger to one nostril, and blow the snot out the other” thing going on; sans tissues of course.
There is no running water in most of the towns and there seems to be an etiquette that if you doing a number one that should just go straight on the ground to keep the dust down, and if it’s a number two well that should go into the crapper, a wooden thing built around a whole in the ground. The girl in the Ger boiled me some water for some noodles as the rest of the family ate their breakfast. The sound of slurping had been on the rise since I’d got to boonie Russia and in Mongolia it was like a concerto. If I was taking the pissing slurping soup I couldn’t have been any louder, yeah yeah I know, and I can’t sleep with the sound of a dripping tap either, I’m a neurotic fucker.
I walked around the village to find a shop. It’s hard to spend money in Mongolia I’m finding. It’s not that things are particularly cheap it’s just that there’s nothing particularly appetizing for sale in any of the shops. Most don’t have refrigeration so its chiefly dry goods for sale.
You can buy water, 2 liter bottles of Coke, lollipops, sweets, packets of biscuits freshly chiseled out of bomb shelters and other stuff which is edible but that you wouldn’t really eat. It’s all bought based on having a long shelf life. I still hadn’t managed to walk out of a shop yet with anything to eat that wasn’t sweets or water.
I’d gotten into the habit of buying about ten lollipops and distributing them to the curious kids who constantly come up to you, to say hello. The way the children take stuff off you is very gracious. They cup one hand under the other and wait for you to place it there as opposed to take it from you. It’s a small thing but seems so polite. The kids are so poor, with dirty faces and hands, when you chat away to them you can’t help but feel that kids shouldn’t have to live like this.
As I was picking up a couple of packets of biscuits to give to the family who let me stay by their Ger I heard a voice behind me saying “Where are you from?” It was Tushig. He worked as a construction lead building one of the roads out here taking coal from Mongolia to China. He used to live in Manchester and we got chatting about how the hell I ended up here. I explained to him where I thought I was, he just started laughing, by the depth of the laugh I wasn’t even close.
He invited me to stay in his place, he had a cook, a place to stay, I could speak English to him and he would sort out the bike stuff for me. The plan was that the guys who lived in the town would move the bike to another truck and then that truck would come and collect me the following day at his GER and take me to Ulaanbaatar. I was as most westerners are, initially suspicious, why are you helping me? what’s in it for you? But I followed my heart , Tushig seemed like a good guy and to be honest next to camping in the village it sounded like a great deal.
His driver drove the two of us over to where he stayed and we followed a single path out into the middle of nowhere and we stopped along the way to talk to some folks who were working for Tushig on the road, a really friendly bunch of fellows.
Then we continued on to his place. It turned out to be three Ger’s in the middle of nowhere. Once again I was stunned with his generosity but initially I was disappointed, at least in the village I could buy some water etc, I couldn’t do anything here. I asked him how many people normally sleep in each Ger, he replied seven.
We also talked about the truck going to Ulaanbaatar, how long would it take, when it would collect me. It had picked up some more collateral damage driving it around in the small van, with a 1000km to Ulaanbaatar on these roads the bike would be a bag of bolts by the time it got there. He told me not to worry, they would pack it softly. I wasn’t overly concerned, I reckoned the bike was fucked and with that the trip probably over so a couple more dents and breakages wouldn’t make any difference.
In all likelihood I’d be out here for two days, I looked around and asked myself what the hell am I going to do out here for two days?
Tushig told me that I needed to sleep, that I needed to rest, that I was stressed out. Once I’d done that things would be much better. They made room for me on one of the cots in the main Ger and I fell asleep to the sound of wood burning in the stove .
Over and out
The big fella
Good luck, stay strong & keep on keeping on...
Decster
Registered user
- Joined
- Apr 25, 2005
- Messages
- 8,123
- Reaction score
- 2
you're a fucking gem Oisin, a fuckin gem, and having a great adventure, loving the reports
.... yer mates will have to give a few days notice to meet ya down the pub....
keep her lit boyo
.... yer mates will have to give a few days notice to meet ya down the pub....keep her lit boyo
I would say that's good advice. Take a couple of days to rest up and recover, you'll feel much better for it. My, but you're having quite an adventure, I know it's tough right now but I'm sure these are the things that will remain vivid from your travelling.
PapaLazarou
Guest
... and think how easy the M50 will be after all this...
The road work crew!..and life in a Ger.
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<tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tVeGd3YEI/AAAAAAAB7lM/gH1CjBr6Y_k/s720/DSC_0132.jpg"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tVlpk0JcI/AAAAAAAB7mA/RPtRGaRMC6A/s720/DSC_0135.jpg" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tVpi296GI/AAAAAAAB7mc/cClTBQvJZdY/s720/DSC_0137.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td>
<tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tWLapZknI/AAAAAAAB7ow/Tgn1bU1Tm8M/s720/DSC_0146.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tWkxm738I/AAAAAAAB7qo/sGpPueTz-fc/s720/DSC_0153.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tW-PBhz_I/AAAAAAAB7sk/NLZ3B4FWcEE/s720/DSC_0160.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXB1xH1FI/AAAAAAAB7s4/vE0OiKfXHnE/s720/DSC_0161.JPG" WIDTH = 750><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXJ9XGu_I/AAAAAAAB7tY/hs7XEEQ-rVQ/s720/DSC_0163.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXXYNTLVI/AAAAAAAB7uI/tXh1U1S51bM/s720/DSC_0166.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXjKI604I/AAAAAAAB7uw/go1LBHbU-E4/s720/DSC_0168.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXrkhRGoI/AAAAAAAB7vI/3zZdpJrbqX4/s720/DSC_0170.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tYC8qggqI/AAAAAAAB7v0/OqOCyRdHgAs/s720/DSC_0172.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tYdmErxSI/AAAAAAAB7ws/iPHHw0A2IYk/s720/DSC_0175.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZEh4QkoI/AAAAAAAB7y4/8Kb9ZJumdN4/s720/DSC_0183.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZdovX2PI/AAAAAAAB70k/M3nNkDYX8Wg/s720/DSC_0189.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZjVWhKQI/AAAAAAAB71E/UNOfz5Wb7B4/s720/DSC_0191.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZmE_fYdI/AAAAAAAB71U/lw0E5glJNDE/s720/DSC_0192.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZsG--3YI/AAAAAAAB710/20AsNzyFyJg/s720/DSC_0194.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_taMETAEZI/AAAAAAAB738/kI-FfBtuFdA/s720/DSC_0202.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uD9VBrR5I/AAAAAAAB8Cw/wGbWEr-jgm4/s720/DSC_0235.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWiKQyjfI/AAAAAAAB8hQ/A4xVPfZCZgU/s640/IMG_4136.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWR7QqG9I/AAAAAAAB8gA/QnO_QCnVSfE/s512/IMG_4112.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXTRkX6bI/AAAAAAAB-MU/Z_VcVqBd3IM/s912/IMG_4188.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXxhJ3lwI/AAAAAAAB8pI/PExk2m5YdPQ/s640/IMG_4213.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXztgmdFI/AAAAAAAB8pY/_M7YUt1MRIs/s512/IMG_4215.JPG"></tr></td></table>
I woke up in great form. I was seeing the world from a whole new point of view. I wasn’t “trapped, stuck, broken down, stressed and tired” all of a sudden I was delighted to be getting the opportunity to stay in a Ger for a night. I also started to think that if I hadn’t broken down I wouldn’t have the opportunity to experience how most Mongolians live. Hell, the whole world was one big opportunity.
For the first couple of hours it was just Tushig, Namchie and myself in the main Ger, while everyone went back out to the roads to work. Tushing is the boss, it’s his job to make sure stuff gets done and he occupies the Top dog spot in the Ger, which is always directly facing the door it seems. He’s married with one child, both of whom are in Taiwan, where his wife is doing a masters.
The whole crew spend 6 months out here at a time working seven days a week. Reason being, in the winter the weather is too harsh to do any work, even in late spring early summer the gales that pick up here are ferocious.
Namchie is the work camp chef, it’s her responsibility to feed everyone, a group of about 15 people, three times a day. She cooks, cleans and works her ass off, putting in 16hour days with just an hour for a nap in the afternoon. She’s the only girl in the setup. I ask Tushig is it not hard for her being the only girl, he says Mongolian women have to work very hard. As the hours pass I’m amazed at how hard she grafts but all the guys treat her with great respect; there’s no horseplay or acting the maggot, it’s like she’s a sister to them all.
She has a very young daughter in Ulaanbaatar who is being looked after by her brother and his wife, and again she has to stay out here six months at a time. For working 7 days a week, 16 hours a day she draws down about $400 a month. This is considered a very very good job in Mongolia. I think the only that makes her job doable is the fact that because it’s a company Ger, there is wood supplied. Most Ger’s use Yak crap as a fuel, there are almost no trees in Mongolia, and almost no arable land for that matter.
All the meals are made from scratch ingredients; flour, water, potatoes, rice, lard etc. The meat on account of there being no refrigeration is all dried. What happens is they smoke it by burning Yak crap and it’s hung up in one of the yurts. All the bread is made with flour and water and is either fried in lard, or steamed. After that its potatoes, rice, and whatever greens they can get from the local town (very little). Everyone drinks water which comes from a small metal tank outside; this is all the water available to the whole camp for washing, cooking, cleaning and drinking so everyone uses it very sparingly.
I talk to Tushig about living in a Ger and seeing as he’s lived in Manchester, Ulaanbaatar and even a little in Taiwan I’m surprised to hear that he prefers the Ger. I ask him why. He tells me that life is simpler. It’s safer, calmer, you can hear yourself think. There’s nothing to worry about, you only have to do your job, then come home eat and sleep, and then do it all again.
The workers all come home around 8pm and eat dinner. I’m served second just behind Tushig and getting embarrassed with the special attention I’m getting. The grub is simple and all cooked in the same pot over the stove in the Ger, potato, meat, some bread, garlic, onion etc, it’s really good. It’s very high in fat but that’s what the lads need when they are working out on the roads for so long each day, and there isn’t a pick on any of them. When the heads go down to eat the grub out of the bowls, they don't come up till its all gone.
Directly after dinner a bunch of head out and kick football, every time I hit a good ball I’m doing the eagle dance which the Mongolian wrestlers do. The lads all get a great kick out of it and join in.
They fire up the jenny around 9pm and turn on the TV, there is one channel and it normally has a film showing. Everyone huddles around it. At about 10pm all of a sudden everyone put on their coat and started walking out, and bailing into a truck. They were all heading to a place where they could get a mobile phone reception, several miles away. It had been six days since the mobile phone transmitter had failed on the mountain, and no one had been in contact with home. Namchie was especially stressed out, her little girl had fallen and hit her head in Ulaanbaatar and she didn’t have any news as to how she was.
They all come back two hours later and everyone gets ready for bed. One of the guys gives up his bed for me and sleeps on the floor next door. I tell them I’ll camp in the tent but they won’t hear of it. As I’m lying in my sleeping bag the same guy comes back with his jacket rolled up and gives it to me as a pillow.
So, another lesson doled out in Mongolian generosity. For the second day in a row, People I never met before bring me to there place, give me a bed, meals, Tushig organises for me to be collected there by the truck with my bike, phones to make sure all is on track with the truck and even contacts his brother in Ulaan Baatar to meet me when I get there to make sure everything works out ok, and one of the lads donates his bunk and jacket to make sure I sleep well....I offer them money but no one will hear of it.
The Mongolians continue to teach this westerner what it means to be a good person...
Over and out
Oisin
<table><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tUFgh9YII/AAAAAAAB7cM/qtfqGC-LkXg/s720/DSC_0099.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tURSlDB-I/AAAAAAAB7dU/A9cxDLsGeWo/s720/DSC_0103.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tUdb0WvCI/AAAAAAAB7eY/QYWm5rqaR-U/s720/DSC_0107.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tUxh8YAiI/AAAAAAAB7gM/L3IuIfLfEeQ/s720/DSC_0114.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td>
<tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tVeGd3YEI/AAAAAAAB7lM/gH1CjBr6Y_k/s720/DSC_0132.jpg"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tVlpk0JcI/AAAAAAAB7mA/RPtRGaRMC6A/s720/DSC_0135.jpg" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tVpi296GI/AAAAAAAB7mc/cClTBQvJZdY/s720/DSC_0137.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td>
<tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tWLapZknI/AAAAAAAB7ow/Tgn1bU1Tm8M/s720/DSC_0146.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tWkxm738I/AAAAAAAB7qo/sGpPueTz-fc/s720/DSC_0153.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tW-PBhz_I/AAAAAAAB7sk/NLZ3B4FWcEE/s720/DSC_0160.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXB1xH1FI/AAAAAAAB7s4/vE0OiKfXHnE/s720/DSC_0161.JPG" WIDTH = 750><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXJ9XGu_I/AAAAAAAB7tY/hs7XEEQ-rVQ/s720/DSC_0163.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXXYNTLVI/AAAAAAAB7uI/tXh1U1S51bM/s720/DSC_0166.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXjKI604I/AAAAAAAB7uw/go1LBHbU-E4/s720/DSC_0168.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tXrkhRGoI/AAAAAAAB7vI/3zZdpJrbqX4/s720/DSC_0170.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tYC8qggqI/AAAAAAAB7v0/OqOCyRdHgAs/s720/DSC_0172.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tYdmErxSI/AAAAAAAB7ws/iPHHw0A2IYk/s720/DSC_0175.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZEh4QkoI/AAAAAAAB7y4/8Kb9ZJumdN4/s720/DSC_0183.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZdovX2PI/AAAAAAAB70k/M3nNkDYX8Wg/s720/DSC_0189.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZjVWhKQI/AAAAAAAB71E/UNOfz5Wb7B4/s720/DSC_0191.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZmE_fYdI/AAAAAAAB71U/lw0E5glJNDE/s720/DSC_0192.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_tZsG--3YI/AAAAAAAB710/20AsNzyFyJg/s720/DSC_0194.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_taMETAEZI/AAAAAAAB738/kI-FfBtuFdA/s720/DSC_0202.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uD9VBrR5I/AAAAAAAB8Cw/wGbWEr-jgm4/s720/DSC_0235.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWiKQyjfI/AAAAAAAB8hQ/A4xVPfZCZgU/s640/IMG_4136.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWR7QqG9I/AAAAAAAB8gA/QnO_QCnVSfE/s512/IMG_4112.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXTRkX6bI/AAAAAAAB-MU/Z_VcVqBd3IM/s912/IMG_4188.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXxhJ3lwI/AAAAAAAB8pI/PExk2m5YdPQ/s640/IMG_4213.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXztgmdFI/AAAAAAAB8pY/_M7YUt1MRIs/s512/IMG_4215.JPG"></tr></td></table>
I woke up in great form. I was seeing the world from a whole new point of view. I wasn’t “trapped, stuck, broken down, stressed and tired” all of a sudden I was delighted to be getting the opportunity to stay in a Ger for a night. I also started to think that if I hadn’t broken down I wouldn’t have the opportunity to experience how most Mongolians live. Hell, the whole world was one big opportunity.
For the first couple of hours it was just Tushig, Namchie and myself in the main Ger, while everyone went back out to the roads to work. Tushing is the boss, it’s his job to make sure stuff gets done and he occupies the Top dog spot in the Ger, which is always directly facing the door it seems. He’s married with one child, both of whom are in Taiwan, where his wife is doing a masters.
The whole crew spend 6 months out here at a time working seven days a week. Reason being, in the winter the weather is too harsh to do any work, even in late spring early summer the gales that pick up here are ferocious.
Namchie is the work camp chef, it’s her responsibility to feed everyone, a group of about 15 people, three times a day. She cooks, cleans and works her ass off, putting in 16hour days with just an hour for a nap in the afternoon. She’s the only girl in the setup. I ask Tushig is it not hard for her being the only girl, he says Mongolian women have to work very hard. As the hours pass I’m amazed at how hard she grafts but all the guys treat her with great respect; there’s no horseplay or acting the maggot, it’s like she’s a sister to them all.
She has a very young daughter in Ulaanbaatar who is being looked after by her brother and his wife, and again she has to stay out here six months at a time. For working 7 days a week, 16 hours a day she draws down about $400 a month. This is considered a very very good job in Mongolia. I think the only that makes her job doable is the fact that because it’s a company Ger, there is wood supplied. Most Ger’s use Yak crap as a fuel, there are almost no trees in Mongolia, and almost no arable land for that matter.
All the meals are made from scratch ingredients; flour, water, potatoes, rice, lard etc. The meat on account of there being no refrigeration is all dried. What happens is they smoke it by burning Yak crap and it’s hung up in one of the yurts. All the bread is made with flour and water and is either fried in lard, or steamed. After that its potatoes, rice, and whatever greens they can get from the local town (very little). Everyone drinks water which comes from a small metal tank outside; this is all the water available to the whole camp for washing, cooking, cleaning and drinking so everyone uses it very sparingly.
I talk to Tushig about living in a Ger and seeing as he’s lived in Manchester, Ulaanbaatar and even a little in Taiwan I’m surprised to hear that he prefers the Ger. I ask him why. He tells me that life is simpler. It’s safer, calmer, you can hear yourself think. There’s nothing to worry about, you only have to do your job, then come home eat and sleep, and then do it all again.
The workers all come home around 8pm and eat dinner. I’m served second just behind Tushig and getting embarrassed with the special attention I’m getting. The grub is simple and all cooked in the same pot over the stove in the Ger, potato, meat, some bread, garlic, onion etc, it’s really good. It’s very high in fat but that’s what the lads need when they are working out on the roads for so long each day, and there isn’t a pick on any of them. When the heads go down to eat the grub out of the bowls, they don't come up till its all gone.
Directly after dinner a bunch of head out and kick football, every time I hit a good ball I’m doing the eagle dance which the Mongolian wrestlers do. The lads all get a great kick out of it and join in.
They fire up the jenny around 9pm and turn on the TV, there is one channel and it normally has a film showing. Everyone huddles around it. At about 10pm all of a sudden everyone put on their coat and started walking out, and bailing into a truck. They were all heading to a place where they could get a mobile phone reception, several miles away. It had been six days since the mobile phone transmitter had failed on the mountain, and no one had been in contact with home. Namchie was especially stressed out, her little girl had fallen and hit her head in Ulaanbaatar and she didn’t have any news as to how she was.
They all come back two hours later and everyone gets ready for bed. One of the guys gives up his bed for me and sleeps on the floor next door. I tell them I’ll camp in the tent but they won’t hear of it. As I’m lying in my sleeping bag the same guy comes back with his jacket rolled up and gives it to me as a pillow.
So, another lesson doled out in Mongolian generosity. For the second day in a row, People I never met before bring me to there place, give me a bed, meals, Tushig organises for me to be collected there by the truck with my bike, phones to make sure all is on track with the truck and even contacts his brother in Ulaan Baatar to meet me when I get there to make sure everything works out ok, and one of the lads donates his bunk and jacket to make sure I sleep well....I offer them money but no one will hear of it.
The Mongolians continue to teach this westerner what it means to be a good person...
Over and out
Oisin
Decster
Registered user
- Joined
- Apr 25, 2005
- Messages
- 8,123
- Reaction score
- 2
just thought i would register to say way to go, also interested in your tec for taking video and pics and also how you are editing and uploading them. Enjoy where you are because it's where your meant to be.
aspad
Registered user
Brilliant report Oisin. Your experience is living proof of the old bollix about the adventure beginning when things go wrong....
or is it the other one about living more on a bike journey in a few days than a lot of people live in decades...?
Last one is certainly true judging by the rate that you are ageing in your photos. FFS have you looked in a mirror recently
or is it the other one about living more on a bike journey in a few days than a lot of people live in decades...?
Last one is certainly true judging by the rate that you are ageing in your photos. FFS have you looked in a mirror recently
Waiting on a truck....
<table><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/TAI6hUfrdCI/AAAAAAAB-QY/wVbORJ0sp4Y/s720/Mongolia%20part%202%20Nikon.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uEMElLVRI/AAAAAAAB8EM/Ze0ONE-VK1s/s720/DSC_0240.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXC2yidhI/AAAAAAAB8kw/DGO7wL_GP-k/s640/IMG_4176.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXF3v3CtI/AAAAAAAB8lA/i5lcLHojhjQ/s640/IMG_4178.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXNxeDpKI/AAAAAAAB8lw/9Cs6bq145UE/s640/IMG_4184.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXmSUezdI/AAAAAAAB8oQ/0-YnC7mwnXA/s640/IMG_4206.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXu3k44MI/AAAAAAAB8o4/s18Kr6XofGs/s640/IMG_4211.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYDMSy5OI/AAAAAAAB8rI/QTZko9fPPfs/s640/IMG_4229.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYKgPyulI/AAAAAAAB-KA/ribjxWXIa4A/s640/IMG_4236.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYLidWoxI/AAAAAAAB8sM/_9jNjwp7KSg/s640/IMG_4237.JPG" WIDTH = 750><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWpvGHUzI/AAAAAAAB-JE/cEzF1CjrazE/s640/IMG_4153.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXjzGOmCI/AAAAAAAB8n8/KeUq5CHzbec/s640/IMG_4204.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWoQZZyrI/AAAAAAAB8iE/_HT6sOkv86Y/s640/IMG_4145.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td></table>
The next morning most of the guys headed back out onto the road and I started my little vigil of peering down the valley waiting for the truck to come. In terms of duration to Ulaanbaatar a 4x4 normally takes 24 hours to get there so in my head I said ok, maybe 36hours for a truck. The initial messages I’d gotten were that it would pick me up before two.
When the lads came back for lunch we ate and then went out kicking football for a bit and took a heap of pictures together and we all said goodbye and wished each other luck. I went in for a nap as the wind was picking up and in the early evening went out to stretch my legs. When I looked to my right the Ger which the road workers slept in had been completely totaled by the wind. Namchie and I went through the debris for the lads stuff and moved it into the second Ger. I couldn’t help thinking what an awful thing to come back to, tired after a day’s graft in biting wind you find your accommodation is gone.
When they got back to my complete surprise they spent about 20 seconds at the “Ah for fucks sake” and then just got on with segregating it and finding out which parts they’d need to get from the local village to fix it tomorrow. At this stage I was supposed to be long gone, but there was still no sign of the transport.
It was well after nine before the lights of a truck appeared in the distance. It turned out to be the original truck which had picked me in the desert two days earlier. I said to them “I thought we were going in a bigger yoke?”
They said that they were going to take to the truck which was parked up in the desert, about five miles off. Within a couple of minutes Tushig was driving me behind the truck to the rendezvous point where I’d finally restart my journey to Ulaanbaatar.
We saw it with the lights on in the distance and converged on it moving slowly across the desert in the pitch black night. When we got there I saw it was a rigid lorry, for the purposes of the story I’ll call it Hilda. It was driven by a tough looking customer who I’ll call Jengis and the spare driver who I’ll call Bantu.
I couldn’t believe what was happening, there we were, two trucks and a 4X4 all with the lights on, out in the middle of nowhere in a howling wind all chatting away like we’d just come out of church on a Sunday. It felt like I was in a drug smuggling movie. I said a final farewell to Tushig and thanked him from the bottom of my heart for all the help he gave me.
The truck was of Chinese origin and was about twenty years old. There were two seats in it, neither of which leaned back and Bantu and I had to share the leg space on the right of the truck. The truck smelt pretty bad, or maybe it was the two lads, or maybe it was me. Looking at them while giving myself a quick sniff under the armpits, all three of us seemed to be far distant strangers to a bar of soap.
It was only when we got moving I realized that we’d no chance of making Ulaanbaatar in 36hours, this thing was as slow as a one legged donkey.
I asked Jengis “so how long will it take for us to get to Ulaanbaatar”; He just shrugged his shoulders. I pushed him a bit more….36hours….40 hours…. To which he just laughed. He then said in broken English “If we’re very lucky…. 3 days”
I replied with a “You muuuusssssstttt be fuuuuuccccccccckkkkkkkkiiiiiinnnnnnggggggg jooooookkkkkkinnnng me!”
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<table><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/TAI6hUfrdCI/AAAAAAAB-QY/wVbORJ0sp4Y/s720/Mongolia%20part%202%20Nikon.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uEMElLVRI/AAAAAAAB8EM/Ze0ONE-VK1s/s720/DSC_0240.jpg" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXC2yidhI/AAAAAAAB8kw/DGO7wL_GP-k/s640/IMG_4176.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXF3v3CtI/AAAAAAAB8lA/i5lcLHojhjQ/s640/IMG_4178.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXNxeDpKI/AAAAAAAB8lw/9Cs6bq145UE/s640/IMG_4184.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXmSUezdI/AAAAAAAB8oQ/0-YnC7mwnXA/s640/IMG_4206.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXu3k44MI/AAAAAAAB8o4/s18Kr6XofGs/s640/IMG_4211.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYDMSy5OI/AAAAAAAB8rI/QTZko9fPPfs/s640/IMG_4229.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYKgPyulI/AAAAAAAB-KA/ribjxWXIa4A/s640/IMG_4236.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYLidWoxI/AAAAAAAB8sM/_9jNjwp7KSg/s640/IMG_4237.JPG" WIDTH = 750><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWpvGHUzI/AAAAAAAB-JE/cEzF1CjrazE/s640/IMG_4153.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uXjzGOmCI/AAAAAAAB8n8/KeUq5CHzbec/s640/IMG_4204.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uWoQZZyrI/AAAAAAAB8iE/_HT6sOkv86Y/s640/IMG_4145.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td></table>
The next morning most of the guys headed back out onto the road and I started my little vigil of peering down the valley waiting for the truck to come. In terms of duration to Ulaanbaatar a 4x4 normally takes 24 hours to get there so in my head I said ok, maybe 36hours for a truck. The initial messages I’d gotten were that it would pick me up before two.
When the lads came back for lunch we ate and then went out kicking football for a bit and took a heap of pictures together and we all said goodbye and wished each other luck. I went in for a nap as the wind was picking up and in the early evening went out to stretch my legs. When I looked to my right the Ger which the road workers slept in had been completely totaled by the wind. Namchie and I went through the debris for the lads stuff and moved it into the second Ger. I couldn’t help thinking what an awful thing to come back to, tired after a day’s graft in biting wind you find your accommodation is gone.
When they got back to my complete surprise they spent about 20 seconds at the “Ah for fucks sake” and then just got on with segregating it and finding out which parts they’d need to get from the local village to fix it tomorrow. At this stage I was supposed to be long gone, but there was still no sign of the transport.
It was well after nine before the lights of a truck appeared in the distance. It turned out to be the original truck which had picked me in the desert two days earlier. I said to them “I thought we were going in a bigger yoke?”
They said that they were going to take to the truck which was parked up in the desert, about five miles off. Within a couple of minutes Tushig was driving me behind the truck to the rendezvous point where I’d finally restart my journey to Ulaanbaatar.
We saw it with the lights on in the distance and converged on it moving slowly across the desert in the pitch black night. When we got there I saw it was a rigid lorry, for the purposes of the story I’ll call it Hilda. It was driven by a tough looking customer who I’ll call Jengis and the spare driver who I’ll call Bantu.
I couldn’t believe what was happening, there we were, two trucks and a 4X4 all with the lights on, out in the middle of nowhere in a howling wind all chatting away like we’d just come out of church on a Sunday. It felt like I was in a drug smuggling movie. I said a final farewell to Tushig and thanked him from the bottom of my heart for all the help he gave me.
The truck was of Chinese origin and was about twenty years old. There were two seats in it, neither of which leaned back and Bantu and I had to share the leg space on the right of the truck. The truck smelt pretty bad, or maybe it was the two lads, or maybe it was me. Looking at them while giving myself a quick sniff under the armpits, all three of us seemed to be far distant strangers to a bar of soap.
It was only when we got moving I realized that we’d no chance of making Ulaanbaatar in 36hours, this thing was as slow as a one legged donkey.
I asked Jengis “so how long will it take for us to get to Ulaanbaatar”; He just shrugged his shoulders. I pushed him a bit more….36hours….40 hours…. To which he just laughed. He then said in broken English “If we’re very lucky…. 3 days”
I replied with a “You muuuusssssstttt be fuuuuuccccccccckkkkkkkkiiiiiinnnnnnggggggg jooooookkkkkkinnnng me!”
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PapaLazarou
Guest
Ha Ha! LMAO! at the last line!
Must be good to be finally moving, albeit very slowly... I would say those few days in the middle of nowhere would stay with you forever.
What a story to have to tell the grandchildren at Christmas...
Must be good to be finally moving, albeit very slowly... I would say those few days in the middle of nowhere would stay with you forever.
What a story to have to tell the grandchildren at Christmas...
Last edited:
72hours on a Chinese Rigid Part 1
<table><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX2e-L0BI/AAAAAAAB-Ro/9HJ3FyaWCfM/s800/IMG_4217.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX4u_7wVI/AAAAAAAB8p4/NSkkxLxK6AI/s640/IMG_4219.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX78HHEEI/AAAAAAAB8qQ/UQ_jLQGhjME/s640/IMG_4222.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr>
</td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX9GlE9TI/AAAAAAAB-Rw/puf21Rv87_A/s640/IMG_4223.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYCG_4T_I/AAAAAAAB8rA/Kjj5TpqQGwE/s640/IMG_4228.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYEJ2EJJI/AAAAAAAB-R8/DHjCfFdVuFE/s640/IMG_4230.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYFLGH5fI/AAAAAAAB-Mo/ns-nefeBixw/s640/IMG_4231.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYNjv79vI/AAAAAAAB-Sc/Dk4o17_aNYU/s640/IMG_4239.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYOoBlIZI/AAAAAAAB-Sk/tl4NC7pZ78M/s640/IMG_4240.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYSLk3shI/AAAAAAAB-Sw/sWVOcVLUqcM/s640/IMG_4243.JPG" WIDTH = 750><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYYJe0nMI/AAAAAAAB8tk/4ZDXOYM6nI8/s640/IMG_4247.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYb4YGUhI/AAAAAAAB8t8/ndju2NC2ZmY/s640/IMG_4250.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYc8Fl_hI/AAAAAAAB-S4/EE1QyyFakw8/s640/IMG_4251.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYgH1V_2I/AAAAAAAB-TE/aVnDVdqJLIo/s640/IMG_4254.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYk-7vtvI/AAAAAAAB8u0/aIBdBey4jAw/s640/IMG_4257.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYofHDVZI/AAAAAAAB8vE/okzYNYUc2cI/s640/IMG_4259.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYyFIoFVI/AAAAAAAB-TU/n7jV3bne3zQ/s640/IMG_4266.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uY0Ki3BJI/AAAAAAAB-Tc/pgOufYsCjiY/s640/IMG_4267.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uY252bzXI/AAAAAAAB-NI/Cix32-8mobQ/s640/IMG_4270.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td></table>
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Within 1 hour of leaving the work camp Hilda had already broken down three times. I was trying to stay positive saying things like "Ah thats all the problems happening at once, we'll get a good run soon".
Bantu didn't really like me, basically because my size 15 feet were now in his already small area where he kept his legs. There is a small area behind the seats where you could fit a small leprechaun or a large mosquito and he spent his time sprawled from there over to my seat.
The window on my side didn't work, there was no heating or air conditioning, no radio, and to top it all off the door would only open with sorcery, you had to open and close the lock, pull the door to you....then open the latch and at that exact instant throw your shoulder at it like it was a stranger humping your missus...and then it might open!. I could hear angels talking.... "Hughes is going to fucking blow any second!...hes cracking!...any second now that fucker will blow"
How the driver was able to navigate was beyond me. Every now and then he would stop, turn off the lights in the truck, look at the stars and the mountains and continue on. There was no GPS, no maps, no signposts, hopefully the video attached will show you how featureless the landscape were were driving through was. Note he drove all night bar one hour as well, to navigate in this country using memory during the day is one thing but to do it at night.... this fella is who the swallows of Capistrano call the king.
The seat I was on was made for a little chinese fella no doubt with a boney arse. Stuffing a 6ft 4 250lb irish man into this space was like someone tying your legs around your head.
Jengis at one stage pulled over for an hours kip, and within 2 breaths of closing his eyes he was snoring like a hippo.
At dawn he again stopped for 40 winks just before we came onto a flat plane where there was lots of surface water and many streams flowing any which way took their fancy. you have to keep reminding yourself...this is a Mongolian main road.....
Once we got through that the lads pulled over and made themselves some tea and soup using water that you wouldn't let cattle drink. I declined, I didn't fancy a bout of colon blow while in the truck, these lads obviously had iron tanks for stomachs.
We stopped at the Mongolian equivalent of a road side cafe, you go into someones Ger, they cook you grub along with the families and you give them a few quid for their troubles. Its all very wholesome and they all have a great chat, it seems like the truck drivers are the chief carriers of news and scandal and their company is much appreciated. The kids all come in from where ever it is kids go in these places and stand by the wall listening attentively to what the truckers are saying to the main man in the Ger.
We left and continued on our way...my guess was that in 8 hours we'd done less than a hundred miles.....and the truck just kept on breaking down.....the list of problems included.... over heating, break failures, complete gauge malfunctions...and so it went...every hour on the hour.
At one stage Bantu fell asleep and used my sleeping bag as a pillow. After an hour or so he lifted his head to reveal the entire right side of his face was full of slabbers....and so now was my sleeping bag. He wiped his face in the non wet portion of the bag and looked at me as one does when you've just woken up and wonder who the fuck the beardy fucker is sitting next to you.
I gave him a look similar to the one Jet Li gave Mel Gibson in Lethal weapon 4 and thought to myself...."In hong kong...he would already be dead!"
Over and out...
the big fella
<table><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX2e-L0BI/AAAAAAAB-Ro/9HJ3FyaWCfM/s800/IMG_4217.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX4u_7wVI/AAAAAAAB8p4/NSkkxLxK6AI/s640/IMG_4219.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX78HHEEI/AAAAAAAB8qQ/UQ_jLQGhjME/s640/IMG_4222.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr>
</td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uX9GlE9TI/AAAAAAAB-Rw/puf21Rv87_A/s640/IMG_4223.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYCG_4T_I/AAAAAAAB8rA/Kjj5TpqQGwE/s640/IMG_4228.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYEJ2EJJI/AAAAAAAB-R8/DHjCfFdVuFE/s640/IMG_4230.JPG" WIDTH = 640></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYFLGH5fI/AAAAAAAB-Mo/ns-nefeBixw/s640/IMG_4231.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYNjv79vI/AAAAAAAB-Sc/Dk4o17_aNYU/s640/IMG_4239.JPG"></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYOoBlIZI/AAAAAAAB-Sk/tl4NC7pZ78M/s640/IMG_4240.JPG" WIDTH = 800></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYSLk3shI/AAAAAAAB-Sw/sWVOcVLUqcM/s640/IMG_4243.JPG" WIDTH = 750><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYYJe0nMI/AAAAAAAB8tk/4ZDXOYM6nI8/s640/IMG_4247.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYb4YGUhI/AAAAAAAB8t8/ndju2NC2ZmY/s640/IMG_4250.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYc8Fl_hI/AAAAAAAB-S4/EE1QyyFakw8/s640/IMG_4251.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYgH1V_2I/AAAAAAAB-TE/aVnDVdqJLIo/s640/IMG_4254.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYk-7vtvI/AAAAAAAB8u0/aIBdBey4jAw/s640/IMG_4257.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYofHDVZI/AAAAAAAB8vE/okzYNYUc2cI/s640/IMG_4259.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uYyFIoFVI/AAAAAAAB-TU/n7jV3bne3zQ/s640/IMG_4266.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uY0Ki3BJI/AAAAAAAB-Tc/pgOufYsCjiY/s640/IMG_4267.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td><tr><td><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_8x5h-fHHXiI/S_uY252bzXI/AAAAAAAB-NI/Cix32-8mobQ/s640/IMG_4270.JPG" WIDTH = 700></tr></td></table>
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Within 1 hour of leaving the work camp Hilda had already broken down three times. I was trying to stay positive saying things like "Ah thats all the problems happening at once, we'll get a good run soon".
Bantu didn't really like me, basically because my size 15 feet were now in his already small area where he kept his legs. There is a small area behind the seats where you could fit a small leprechaun or a large mosquito and he spent his time sprawled from there over to my seat.
The window on my side didn't work, there was no heating or air conditioning, no radio, and to top it all off the door would only open with sorcery, you had to open and close the lock, pull the door to you....then open the latch and at that exact instant throw your shoulder at it like it was a stranger humping your missus...and then it might open!. I could hear angels talking.... "Hughes is going to fucking blow any second!...hes cracking!...any second now that fucker will blow"
How the driver was able to navigate was beyond me. Every now and then he would stop, turn off the lights in the truck, look at the stars and the mountains and continue on. There was no GPS, no maps, no signposts, hopefully the video attached will show you how featureless the landscape were were driving through was. Note he drove all night bar one hour as well, to navigate in this country using memory during the day is one thing but to do it at night.... this fella is who the swallows of Capistrano call the king.
The seat I was on was made for a little chinese fella no doubt with a boney arse. Stuffing a 6ft 4 250lb irish man into this space was like someone tying your legs around your head.
Jengis at one stage pulled over for an hours kip, and within 2 breaths of closing his eyes he was snoring like a hippo.
At dawn he again stopped for 40 winks just before we came onto a flat plane where there was lots of surface water and many streams flowing any which way took their fancy. you have to keep reminding yourself...this is a Mongolian main road.....
Once we got through that the lads pulled over and made themselves some tea and soup using water that you wouldn't let cattle drink. I declined, I didn't fancy a bout of colon blow while in the truck, these lads obviously had iron tanks for stomachs.
We stopped at the Mongolian equivalent of a road side cafe, you go into someones Ger, they cook you grub along with the families and you give them a few quid for their troubles. Its all very wholesome and they all have a great chat, it seems like the truck drivers are the chief carriers of news and scandal and their company is much appreciated. The kids all come in from where ever it is kids go in these places and stand by the wall listening attentively to what the truckers are saying to the main man in the Ger.
We left and continued on our way...my guess was that in 8 hours we'd done less than a hundred miles.....and the truck just kept on breaking down.....the list of problems included.... over heating, break failures, complete gauge malfunctions...and so it went...every hour on the hour.
At one stage Bantu fell asleep and used my sleeping bag as a pillow. After an hour or so he lifted his head to reveal the entire right side of his face was full of slabbers....and so now was my sleeping bag. He wiped his face in the non wet portion of the bag and looked at me as one does when you've just woken up and wonder who the fuck the beardy fucker is sitting next to you.
I gave him a look similar to the one Jet Li gave Mel Gibson in Lethal weapon 4 and thought to myself...."In hong kong...he would already be dead!"
Over and out...
the big fella
