THE ALTAI by David

To continue our journey we needed to cross the Altai mountains to the west of the Mongolian Gobi and extending across the Russian (and Chinese) border nearby. The contrast between the barren, dull and Spartan greyness of the Gobi with the scintillating whiteness of the snow covered mountains of the Altai was extraordinary for us, but also unsettling after a couple of weeks spent in the Gobi. Dull grey became dazzling white, flowing streams became still, frozen over, rippling lakes turned to ice and tracks previously ruts in the desert ground became fine ribbons of snow threading across the slopes before us.

While the loneliness of our travelling remained, a tension was added by new uncertainties: travelling in mountain terrain with ice now common, fickle and dramatic changes in weather, now cold days struggling to get much above 4 or 5 degrees C and not the least the approaching Russian border bristling with potential problems but long contemplated and critical as the starting point of probably the last serious and certainly the most exotic leg of our journey, through Central Asia. Oh what a delicious meal of unsettling change and eager anticipation for two boys a long way from home!

We camped many nights across the Gobi but upon entering the Altai this became less attractive with cold mornings the norm, mostly hovering a few degrees below zero C. We spent the last night before crossing into Russia, camped high in the Altai - when we got up it was a very cold minus 11 degrees C. Not much sleep that night. By contrast, most camping evenings in Mongolia, such as one just out of Olgii, were superb - this evening was spent rugged up in crisp, cold air, but in a spot sheltered from the wind behind warm, sun heated rocks; we basked in welcome, low western light, cooked dinner on our faithful MSR and had a beer or two as we looked out across barren grass lands with cattle grazing, a large and alluring lake not yet frozen, and behind, a dramatic backdrop of brooding snow covered mountains. Hard to beat anywhere, let alone in the very foreign land where we were.

Bayan-Olgii airmag (district) is well known for its eagle hunting and holds a festival celebrating the still maintained tradition, in early October each year. While too late for this we did hire a guide, Jupar, for a day to track down an eagle hunter or three, not quite knowing what to expect. While we spent a lot of the day, hunting for even one of the somewhat elusive eagle hunters, calling in to gers, (I can imagine the animated conversation, heard, but not understood: “…seen an eagle hunter, by any chance? No?, well never mind, we‘ll try the next ger…” or “Yes, but he‘s off for the winter…”) getting advice from apparently random people on horseback, motor bike, and on foot and after unexpected hospitality in a ger and later in a very humble family dwelling, we struck gold! Not only were we to view an eagle swooping on a lure and then raw meat, but Will and I became eagle hunters for a few minutes, proudly dressed for the occasion and tentatively holding our eagles in heavily gloved arms! (I gladly handed the gear back after inadvertently letting my eagle loose…!)

After facing a few unsettling problems in Khovd, as we approached the Altai and also issues arising in Olgii itself, we were glad to be finally heading out of Mongolia to face the unknowns of Russia, and what lays beyond…

[Photos: desert & Altai mountains meet; Will, eagle hunter]