Visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park: Vast as Souls

“I knew I would love it beneath the sky.” -Old Sean

Upon the Plateau

Mongolia in a word is obvious.  Vast. 

The sky rolls out forever, the land matches it, and the roads steadily erode over a timeless plain.  Only the recent mining boom has finally brought serious human alterations to these landscapes.  

It’s strange to go traverse Mongolia.  Deep tire scars of mud cut the land where vehicles have veered off the road to cruise through endless steppes and hills. Many curved mounds shelter drifts of pure, white snow, un-melting even as the rest of the world is razed by a cloudless sun.

Mongolia is a place best experienced under one’s own motion.  Forget riding buses or using Uber. It’s better to have your own power and direction out here, whether that means driving a car, walking endlessly or riding a tundra camel.

That’s where the feel of this land comes from. From the kilometers you’re spending alongside hours.

Yurt Nights

After I left Ulaanbaatar, I took a bus and then my feet into the long distance. I volunteered to do a little work for a goat–herding family of nomads which skirt the edge of a national park. But prior to starting my strange short-term holiday job, I wanted to go exploring

Therefore, my first jaunt to the countryside was near Gorkhi-Terelj National Park. My first night visiting Gorkhi-Terelj, I bunked in a ger (Mongolian yurt) with a man named Steve who was going the opposite direction. Our building was bright white and nestled in a small neighborhood of gers scattered around a the end of a low, stony valley.

Our ger was a permanent one, meaning a foundation had been set and other creature comforts were added. Despite this, staying in the ger took some getting used to.

Firstly, the ger used a very efficient and narrow cast-iron wood-stove. This heated the ger, but only super-effectively. The ger had two settings: Wool-walled heat box or windless refrigerator. I ended up doing some acrobatics with my blankets in my sleep.

Secondly, it’s almost not worth sleeping in Mongolia. The stars are beyond dazzling, eating up the sky so stunningly that roofs seem like crimes.

Thirdly, I personally prefer outdoor campfires in Mongolia. Cooking on an interior wood-fueled stove in a ger provides some pretty long-lasting smells.

Visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park

The following morning, I went hiking to begin visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park, which was easier said than done. I asked my host family for a ride, but they were occupied, so I hopped on a motorcycle with a neighbor instead. He brought me across a surprising distance until I was within the visiting Gorkhi-Terelj, inside the park’s boundaries.

As mentioned before, Mongolia is vast. And in between those vast spaces, it’s rugged.

I had to struggle a bit during my hike, but the views of the low valleys, high plains, pillowed brown rock features, pillar-like trees and stone-walled mountains were worth it. I clambered along rough-stone surfaces, slipping on gravel in the brisk, chilly morning air.

While around the park, I was told there were some dinosaur statues scattered about, as fossil heritage is a vital part of Mongolia’s culture. However, I wasn’t in the right area to see them.

When it was time to go back to my ger in the late afternoon, I had to wait for some time until someone came along the road. It was the only vehicle I’d seen in half an hour. But the driver read the scribbled note my host family had written for me and nodded. Improbably, I made it home without a hiccup

Back at my host family’s ger, I was served biscuits, some truly exceptional soup and a bubbling mug filled with yak-milk. I learned rather quickly that yak-milk is too rich for me. Sticks to the throat somewhat.

Visiting Gorkhi-Terelj Temples

The following day, I was passed along to a different host family. This one was an actual tourism booking and would show me the more unique sights of the area.

Sadly, I still didn’t get a chance to see dinosaur statues while visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park.

What I did get to see was the lonely Aryapala Temple Meditation Center tucked into a valley.

The Mongolian temple I visited followed a set of narrow, steep stairs straight into a mountain wall, where the small structure was tucked out of the wind. There were dozens of multi-colored prayer flags fluttering only slightly.

The temple had a secondary staircase to head slightly further up, following a clockwise spiral to a round room filled with metal prayer wheels. We were told to rotate through the room clockwise while spinning the prayer wheels the same direction. Apparently, the clockwise motion has serious religious significance.

I was told that the temple site originally belonged to an enlightened hermit, who set up a prayer center prior to the Soviet arrival in the 1930s. The hermit had built a small structure, which was removed. We were currently standing in it’s reconstructed replacement. The temple is one of the most colorful and peaceful things to see while visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park.

Our guide continued to explain that he majority of religious zones in Mongolia are funded by reparations or completely rebuilt structures. These buildings were made after the Soviet Union left the plateau. As such, few temples in Mongolia are more than 40 years old.

Praying While Visiting Gorkhi-Terelj

Our guide, who was a former acrobat capable of climbing some rather daunting ledges, explained our fortunes based on the prayer-wheel rotations. My fortune was based on a wish withheld when spinning the wheels. The results were confusing. My guide assured me that meant I had profound but obscure accomplishments in my future.

Next, our guide showed us how to pray a wish to a loved one. Apparently, there’s a Mongolia-temple-folk-tradition where you hold an image of a loved one cupped in your hands, while your fingers make a steeple roughly akin to a pagoda. It looks a bit like hands cupped to hold water, only vertical.

These are placed in front of a praying person’s nose and mouth, and goodwill is breathed on the cupped photo. That “wish” or “will” (translation varied) carries to the individual in the picture.

Our guide assured us that it could be done with a clear mental image of the person, if we didn’t have a photo on-hand.

We left the temple afterwards, which was a shame. It was a beautiful building with an amazing view and tiny Buddhas tucked into secret, mini pagodas. The interior was decorated with rich walls of fabric falling around warm woods. A mediation bowl and bell sat silent and central in front of a kneeling mat. 

Hideaway of Monks

After the temple, we hiked for an hour or so, following a series of slippery, narrow goat trails into a valley. We exited the main park area, officially leaving after visiting Gorkhi-Terelj. We were heading elsewhere.

Once we were on level ground, our guide found his car and began driving.

And driving.

And driving.

Mongolia is just enormous with relatively few landmarks.

We eventually arrived to a unique, rocky nook. The rough geological structure was home to a small, tightly twisted chasm called the 100 Monk Cave. The cave was religious shelter and holdout where many Monks hid here to avoid persecution. The cave has also been featured in some local Mongolian films, giving it the name “3 Friends Cave” as well.

As we continued driving, our guide spotted something gleaming in the distance. Our guide squinted briefly and asked if we’d be willing to stop and help.

Our guide must’ve had eyes like a hawk. It was another three minutes before I understood what he meant. There was a car broken down in the middle of nowhere. We stopped to give the car a jump, but the vehicle only made it a bit further before breaking down again. We tried one more jump, just in case, but it was likely alternator issues.

The men in the broken car laughed, their jaws open wide while shaking their heads. They borrowed our guide’s phone, called for help, gave us each a small bow and waved us along.

The Secret Places of Mongols

Next, our guide offered to show us the “Secret Places” of Mongolia. He started veering straight off the road, tires cutting deeply into the mud. The engine and the car wobbled madly, mechanics strained a decade beyond their life expectancy.

Luckily, we never broke down in that endless nothingness. Instead, our guide showed us an impressive prayer mound, where shattered rocks were piled atop on one another as a valid landmark. Colorful rags, mostly blue, were bound on top, fluttering limply in the brisk wind. Snow curved around the base of one side and we were told to circle it once, while our guide explained Mongolian shamanism.

We finished our tour at a series of small, white gers with yellow-and-orange doors. I was treated to an endless number of pastries and skewers, feeling sluggish and heavy with each bite.

Mongolians have a very dense culinary preference.

Back to Work (ing Holidays)

The following day, I hitched another ride until I made it to the goat-herders I had signed on to work with. They were semi-nomadic, meaning they mostly just circulated around a specific range.

Nobody really spoke English, so I had to make do with quite a few hand signs. Our gers, which were mostly mobile except for one night, didn’t have power. Therefore, I didn’t have my phone’s translation feature most of the time.

If I understood this properly, this was a goat breeder’s range. The family would raise momma goats and their kids in the lower plains where the temperature was bearable and there were more modern supplies and resources. Once the goats were sturdier, they would be shipped to colder climates, where they would develop thicker fur for Mongolia’s lucrative cashmere industry.

Herding Kids

Herding goats is a unique experience. They like to cluster, so they’re easy to lead. They’re pretty vocal, so moving around with them is surprisingly noisy, especially after the silence found elsewhere in the country.

My group rode tundra camels to get around, as the goats needed to pass through some difficult terrain to get from zone to zone.

The treks were about getting the goats to food, and, in the event of a cold snap, shelter. But the other reason the goats needed to be herded was so they could get accustomed to steeper terrain. It was training for when they would get shipped to colder area to promote the growth of denser, finer wool.

Goat Work

For work, things were pretty simple. The goats mostly took care of themselves. We would herd them to slightly compressed snow-patches for fresh water.

When they needed food, we would dig out snow, revealing some slightly-springy green-brown grass for them to eat, though they grazed on dead brown grass often. There were some areas which looked as brown as anywhere else, but the herd would be stopped to graze, as though this brown patch was a good one.

The smallest goats sometimes got tuckered out or wandered off a direction they weren’t supposed to. These tiny goat kids became loud, living scarfs. Usually, one or two people would have a goat-scarf at any time. Simply pick up the kid by the legs, hold them firmly and around the back of the neck.

This was only for the youngest goats which were having trouble keeping up. I had to put in an earplug when it was my turn. For such small, bouncy creatures, baby goats know how to yell.

A Truth on Camels

Something I never knew about Mongolia was the number and reliability of camels. Almost every story I’ve heard about Mongolia talks about the reindeer, the horses and the goats. I always associated camels with hot, sandy deserts.

To be fair, Mongolia has a fair number of sandy deserts. The Gobi to the south is the most famous, and all of Mongolia is a fairly dry, high tundra. Camels are a valid form of sturdy transport.

That being said, these camels were different than I had pictured. For one thing, they were equipped for cold climates with great ropes of stinking, dense fur that ranged from gold to black. They towered rediculously tall, making mounting them a struggle for me, while Mongolians would laugh and shout encouragement.

Riders sit between the camel’s two humps, which is usually covered in a brown, plain cloth saddle, complete with a bit of tussled color around the fringes. Camels’ backs are actually much wider than expected. I’ve been saddle-sore after horseback riding before, but the motion and constant splits were fairy uncomfortable.

And mostly, camels are mean. Dreadfully ornery creatures.

They spit, they kick, they bite, they sidestep, they groan, they stomp at goats, the bob their heads like they’re going in for a headbutt kill and they do that to everyone.

The Bankhar of Mongolia

However, our little goat-herding troupe wasn’t quite complete. Aside from the dozens of goats, a few caretakers and our querulous mounts, there was also a dog.

But not just any dog. An enormous Mongolian nearly-pure Bankhar canine with a black-and-golden face and layers of dense, windswept fur. This wasn’t a pure breed (there aren’t many of those left) but he had a strong Bankhar strain. Such dogs can often be seen when visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park.

Mongolian dogs are special. They’re not herding dogs which corral sheep or other livestock, but guardian dogs. They step across the high plains in all weather, keeping men and herds safe. They’re deeply intertwined to Mongolian culture. The traditional greeting when arriving at a ger is “Hold your dogs” in a loud shout.

Pure stains of the Bankhar dog kept Mongolia livable for thousands of years. They are hardy, skilled at traveling great distances, staunch in all types of weather and can survive on less food than other dogs the same size.

Most Bankhars aren’t actually a specific breed but a genetic spectrum of working dog that began dying off with the arrival of Soviets. Soviets degraded the Mongolian heritage education on breeding, training and caring for Bankhars. The Bankhars also faced death when turned loose on the tundra or when they were killed for fur.

Modern Bankhars have a different problem. They’re often interbred with the more-popular Tibetan Mastiff, which isn’t a working dog. Pure strains are very rare, but heavily sought after since they’re invaluable to the continuation of Mongolian nomadic lifestyles.

Laugh Lion the Working Dog

I can’t replicate our dog’s name in Mongolian, but when it was translated, his name was Laugh Lion, on account of his poofy halo of fur around his face.

Laugh Lion was all business during our work days, trotting about, scouting out ridges and sniffing in close to check on us. But he didn’t linger often, until night. Then, when we had set up our ger, Laugh Lion would flop down next to the Mongolians and make chuffing noises while gazing into flames.

I like dogs, so I asked (by miming) if I could pet him. Nobody else was petting Laugh Lion, so I wasn’t sure it was safe. The Mongolians thought this was hilarious, but gestured it was fine. Laugh Lion was thrilled by the attention, actively wiggling around and angling his belly for more scratches.

While everyone else went to bed, Laugh Lion and I stayed out and watched the stars for a while. But finally, sleep caught up to me. I pet Laugh Lion a couple more times and started walking back to the ger.

Ambush of the Laugh Lion

I suddenly jerked forward, my leg anchored to a dense stone. Looking down, I saw Laugh Lion has gently put his jaws around my shin and calf. He outweighed by a bit, so I was effectively stuck.

Laugh Lion made a small chuffing noise, but didn’t let go of my leg. I froze for a second, then leaned down and gave him a proper belly rub. He let go of my leg, and rolled back for more attention.

I kept it up for another minute and tried to walk again. Instantly, I was trapped again.

The next half-hour of my life involved staggering forward in brief bursts of freedom. Each time, I would be skillfully caught by Laugh Lion’s gentle jaws. And I would remain caught until I had paid a belly-rub toll.

By the time I got back to the ger and got the door closed, my pant-leg was coated in Laugh-Lion-spit. I could hear at least one Mongolian herdsman chuckling as I laid down to sleep.

Out in the Outhouse

A couple of nights later, our herd reached a destination place, which is a fancy term for a permanent ger, rather than our mobile one. It was my last day working, so I would be heading back to Ulaanbaatar soon.

That night, I said my goodbyes, since the herd would be leaving before I woke up. I snuggled into a scratchy-but-warm bed and dozed off.

Later that night, I awoke in a deep chill with a strong pressure on my bladder. Swinging my legs off my low bed, I shuffled outside, pulling out a roll of toilet paper and a thin, powerful flashlight I use for travel.

Now, I’ve been using a flashlight while traveling for years. But I had a friend in the US tell me that they were a mistake and headlamps were far, far superior. While I believed him, I didn’t feel like spending the money for an upgrade.

I should’ve.

Lessons From Visiting Gorkhi-Terelj

I walked across frost-slick ground, brown-and-white grass blades crunching under chilled boots. Finally, I reached the outhouse around a hill and made a slightly panicked noise in the back of my throat.

The outhouse was an ambitiously poor construct. There was no roof, just a shoulder-high wall. There wasn’t even a floor. The entire thing just gaped over an enormous, black pit. There were two blanks of wood, extending across, so person could balance-beam while doing business.

I shined a light into the pit to figure out the depth and immediately wished I hadn’t. The only good thing to be said about the situation was the chill: Everything was far too frozen to produce a smell.

Grimacing, I kicked off my boots, then pants, then replaced my boots, grateful for the grip-treads on the frost-slick wooden beams. Then, I had an acrobatic midnight where I juggled a roll of toilet paper and my flashlight in my mouth, another hand holding the wall for balance.

My teeth were chattering. My foot nearly slipped. The wall gave me a splinter. And the flashlight fell out of my mouth, splatting below.

It’s probably there to this day. I had to finish my business and get back to the ger by starlight alone.

Yes, Mongolia is vast. And Mongolia at night is lonely. That lonely privacy was something I was very grateful for that evening. Of course, I travel with headlamps now.

A Cycle Through the City

After my time spent visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park, my scheduled ride picked me up from a roadside station. I cycled back into Ulaanbaatar. I spent the whole day in my hostel, showering under a blessedly hot stream of water. Once I was clean, I stuffed some clothes in a plastic bag, since they would be unwearable until I returned to China.

I only have a couple of days left in Mongolia. visiting Gorkhi-Terelj National Park tired me out, but I still want to see a few other places before my trip is over. Soon, I’ll head out to visit one of the most famous statues in the world.

The Khan himself sits atop a steed in the distant plains outside of Ulaanbaatar.

Until then

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written March 28th, 2018

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