Ulaanbaatar to Tomsk

Ulaanbaatar to Tomsk

Tomsk on the map

Propain

So we went back to the air camp, after getting the passports back, so we could head out to new venues. Were a little late because Marisol ran across an American buy called Darrel who lived in UB. She trotted him by the Post Office Internet parlor, where I was, so we could chat a bit. Turned out he knew Al , the driller guy I had met in Moron. When I got in the van I noticed the propane had run out. 

I was hoping to make it back to Russia before needing propane as I had a Russian fitting but no Mongolian fitting. The Mongolian fitting kinda looks like a POL fitting but with a finer thread. So this was not making my day. Especially being as it was about 5:00 on Friday afternoon. 

Headed over to our airport restaurant friends to see if I could get them to call the place where they got their propane for cooking. They called and their fifteen-year-old kid went along to help me find it. He speaks passable English.

Got to the place and it was a gas pump kind of place, but the fittings were entirely different. Not good. Decided to give Darrel a call, to see if he knew where to get propane tanks filled. He came out to meet us, and after a visit with Al and some more phone calls, it turned out to be maybe a mile or two down the street from the pump place. Amazingly enough they even had a couple of Russian tanks, not quite the size I was looking for, but one was big enough to fill about ¾ full. If you need some propane in UB the place is on the South side of main drag, on the West side of the city, about a half a kilometer east of the traffic circle. I’d rather be lucky than smart.

Headed down the road for Khorakoren, which was Chinggis Khaan’s capital. Wasn’t supposed to be much there, but figured it was someplace that needed visiting. Neat old Monastery there, that made the drive worth it. Even the twenty-three miles of dirt. On the way we ran into the Frenchies and their four kids, that we had met at the Kazakhstan Consulate. They’re traveling in a German Camper Division kind of rig. Great big 4WD yellow thing, towing a four wheeler on a trailer.

Another reason I wanted to go down this way was, I was told there were some pretty cool sand dunes along the way. Sure were, and camels to boot. Marisol wouldn’t let me get away without an hour ride. I was hoping to be able to steer them myself, but when I asked the guy where the handlebars and throttle were, guess he figured he’d better lead us.

Cross at Border 

Next day it was off to the border. Hate borders, it’s the worst part of travel for me. Our visas were all in order, which had been a bit of a concern, after the airbase visit. Got spit out of the Mongolian side and it was into the Russian side. Out is usually easy, in is the bitch.

While waiting in line, on the Mongolian side, this Mongolian twenty something kid asks if he could ride along with us to the next town. Didn’t make sense to me, as he was on foot, and could just go to the head of the line and ask somebody there, would be much quicker. In a weaker moment, I said ok.

He got into the passenger seat. Something didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t figure out what it was exactly. There was some problem with a car, a few cars ahead of us, and we sat and sat. Like an hour and a half. This gave me time to work on what the odd thing was. Got to noticing he sat way too high in the seat. His clothes were full of something. He was a smuggler. 

Now what to do. We were close to the Russian border folks so I had to decide if I wanted to make a ruckus. Finally I poked him in the ballooned pant legs, letting him know I was on to him and told him that he had to walk through, I’d pick him up after the inspection guards. Finally it was our turn, and of course he didn’t get our till I was told, that because of the van’s size, I’d need to go to the other side of the clubhouse and get the van x-rayed. This whole thing was making me real nervous. 

Course I was pissed at the asshole for putting me in this situation but could see some downside no matter what I decided to do. If I turned him in to the guards they could grab me too. After the previous brush with the Russian justice system, I wanted to avoid this at all costs. If I just let him ride along, and he was caught, then I’m sure they’d believe I had nothing to do with it.

Now that I was sensitized to smuggling, got to noticing that an older guy in the car in front of us, also had something in his clothes. We had also seen a women on the Mongolian side, wrapping herself with something. The place was full of smugglers. No idea what was being smuggled.

We made it through, after about four hours. The guy got out just on the other side of the border, not the next town like he had told me. Got to thinking. If I could figure all this out, in an hour, the Russians had to be in on it. They’re smart folks and this wasn’t rocket science. Real glad to get outa there. No more hitch hikers, period. I had made this same decision, years ago, and have no idea why I’d succumbed. 

Mongolia Over My Shoulder

Incredibly nice folks. Lots of green. We were real sorry to leave. Had gone there thinking maybe a week and a half or so, long enough to get the visas sorted out, but could stay months. Lots to see, much more than I ever figured. Did I mention the people are incredibly nice?

Just a few cases in point. The airport restaurant folks, the night before we planned on leaving, came over to the van and gave us some presents. Totally unexpected. The guy we met at the gas station, who had gone to school in Tucson, after noticing the AZ license plate came over and talked to us. While talking I mentioned, as usual, I had a real piece of shit map, for Mongolia, and he gives me his really good map. Or the checkout girl at a little super market that just gave us this big box of chocolates. Incredibly incredibly nice folks. Think it would be fun to do a big dirt bike loop around Mongolia.

Looks to me like they’re doing pretty good. Seems like a fair amount of new construction. Was told that things had slowed down allot after the government raised the tax on mining. Saw quite a few tourists around so that has to be a fairly large business also.

Hole in the floor wooden johns, if you want to use a john in the countryside. Real flat most places so they can look attractive. Sure wouldn’t want to drop my money belt down one of those. Marisol hated them so bad, she hardly ever used them, preferred the fields. Somehow she can disappear on a flat field, no idea how. I had stage fright to contend with, to quote an Aussie I met in Paraguay, when I asked him what he did when the bus stopped in a flat open field, like I had seen them do. He said once you got over stage fright, no problem. Always carry TP, as in the best of places, there was hardly ever TP, even the International Airport was maybe 50%.

Sheep, cows, goats, horses everywhere. Open grazing run wild. Towns, even some in the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar. With the massive number we saw, hard to believe the land could support so many. Erosion appears to have started. Not sure how the system works. Was told the land was public land but I wonder if there’s any control on how many any one person can graze and whether they’re limited to a certain place.

The people seemed to be recently off the land. Ulaanbaatar has around a million souls, out of a country of around three million. Out of town you see ‘tourist camps’ with lots of gers and horses. Looked to me like this may be the first generation to have to live in town. They go back out to the country to get to their roots. Kids seems to be driving most of the big trucks. Hope the people don’t loose their present honest nature, as I was told, they’re getting more materialistic now that they have discovered what they don’t have.

Many roads are a joke. No road at all, just some cement posts out across the land. You’re on your own. Don’t bother to even run a road grader over the roads, like how much can that cost? The asphalt roads they do build, seem to be pretty well done compared to Russia. Some were quite smooth.

All in all, a great place to visit. People are incredibly nice. We really hated to leave. I wish them the best.

Earl

Back in Russia we headed for Lake Baikal. Reputed to hold more fresh water than any other lake, mainly because it’s so deep. Scenery ain’t too bad, although not up to Crater Lake or Tahoe standards. We camped along it, and it started to rain a bunch. Decided this was known as opportunity. Got out a rag, and wiped the Mongolian mud off the Flyer. Earl would be proud. Earl of Sheib did the Siberian Flyer paint job.

Just off the western edge, the Book of Guide mentioned a resort that had some Hot Springs, so thought that might be worth a try. Said the valley going there was pretty good too. 

Had trouble finding the road, so we stopped and asked several times. Pulled into a restaurant and asked some people, just as it started to rain. When I backed up, I hear this shout, after feeling a crunch. Not good. Some guy had pulled in just behind me, after I started to back up.

Wasn’t sure what to do. No idea how the system worked. Thought maybe I could work something out with him. Marisol figured she could help out, by getting out and yelling all sorts of vile insulates at the guy, while doing her five year old tantrum thing. Like he was a drunk trying to get money for more Vodka (I smelt no alcohol). Giving her some free advice like “Shut the F%%k up” was of no help. How embarrassing.

 Between all the Brazilian tantrum noise, I asked him what he thought it would cost to fix it. He writes down 300200 I had offered him. 

Arshan, the resort, was really nice. The drive getting there was pretty good too. I’d recommend it. Never ran into another Gringo there. Must be a place where the Russians party. Did quite a bit of hiking while there. Seemed to me, it might have been a place that during Communism was reserved for the Commie elite because of many closed spa buildings. Later I asked a kid with pretty good English about this, and he said that was the case. Now of course everybody goes. Lots of new building going up.

After Arshan we heading to Baikal again, to a resort town near Irkutsk called Listvyanka. Pleasant little place. Got hung up there a coupla nights. Long enough to make the mistake of eating some raw fish at a restaurant. Still got the pooh poohs as of this writing. No idea why I ate the stuff. Maybe I can blame it on the Swiss guy, Chris, we were jukking it up with. He rode a bike from Switzerland to Vlad and put it on a train to Moscow. Had lots stories.

We’re now in Tomsk, which is on the way to Omsk. Sounded pretty neat, according to the Book of Guide. Lots of old buildings. Guess we’ll find out. From here it’s off to Kazakhstan.

One thing I wish wouldn’t have come up, while talking to Chris. He said that as far as he knew you needed a Carnet to take a vehicle into Kazak. Hope he got some bad info, as I don’t have one. Didn’t see that mentioned anywhere. If they won’t let me take the SF in, hopefully I can leave it at the border and take a bus to Astana, to get new Russian Visas, as we have to leave Russia by the 18th. Hey, it’s an adventure.

1st in 3rd

Occurred to me, while bouncing and bashing along on the miserable Russian roads, Russia seems to have first world people in a third world country. Outhouses at the gas stations, with no water, many horribly rough roads, and East Block apartments to live in. Always a struggle to find water for the van shower tank. I suppose from their perspective things are much better than just a short time ago. Lots of people can now drive and the roads are probably much better than just a few years ago. But in everything from roads to housing they have a long long way to go. You also see lots of new houses going up. 

Till next time,

DZ