12.09.10

There was no point staying in Baruunturuun after I had woken up. No shower, no café, no internet … so I said farewell to my roommate – a 18 year old student from UB, paid my bill and headed for the towns petrol station. This town had 92 octane, which was great news. A couple of times yesterday I had to put 80 into the tanks … but when I did I only put 5 litres in at a time, and it would have mixed with the 92 that was already in there. While Baruunturuun had 92, the pumping was by hand. I held the nozzle and the fuel man pumped. It was 9:15 when I hit the road and saw Baruunturuun fading away in my mirrors.

I didn’t get too far before I hit my first proper water crossing in Mongolia. The weather ahead had looked dark and ominous since waking up, in contrast with the clear blue skies I had experienced in Mongolia to date and I figured it had rained recently here in the west of the country. The crossing was not too deep – only about a foot and a half, but the current was ferocious. It meant I couldn’t see the bottom. I had little choice but to get my feet wet. Damn! Now I would have wet feet all day.

It was relatively flat terrain all the way to Ulaangom, but as I neared Ulaangom, approaching midday, the mountains loomed up in the distance. I fuelled up in Ulaangom and checked my maps. Plenty of peaks above 3000m (10,000 feet) here. I needed to think of what I wanted to do. My initial plan had been to head for the border, perhaps 4 hours ride away. That would have meant riding from UB to the border in less than 3 days, via the Northern route. But having made such good time in Mongolia so far, I had earned a day up my sleeve. I decided to do the border tomorrow. I would spend the rest of today in the mountains. I grabbed some food and drink before leaving Ulaangom and left town about 12:30.

I continued along the ‘Northern Route’ for another 90 minutes (the track took in some lovely mountain passes and wild tracks), and just before 2pm, beside Lake Uurug (Uurug Nuur) I turned left and headed way up into the mountains along a shortcut to Olgiy I will call the “Khotgor Track” for want of a better name. Wow … what a track! Extreme rocky hilly riding for the first hour.It took me about an hour just to cover the first 35km to Khotgor, a dusty coal mining village. Then the track eased up and continued past another beautiful lake called Achit Nuur. At the bottom of Achit Nuur the track joined a more used road coming from the east and from here the drive to Olgiy was through a fantastic gorge. It was one of the finest afternoons riding I can remember anywhere. Unbeatable scenery, challenging riding. Ulaangom to Olgiy, via Khotgor – it rocks !

I arrived at Olgiy at 5:30pm. There was still a couple of hours of daylight left. I refuelled and headed into town to take stock. I pulled up at the local “Irish Bar” or at least that’s what they called it, but they were having a private party and would open to the public only at 6:30. I chatted to a group of Kazakhs visiting from Almaty and they too were waiting for some dinner. About 6pm I suddenly got tired of waiting. I had pulled into Olgiy quite exhausted and drained after riding the Khotgor Track, and figured I would chill, have a nice shower, then have a long dinner over a large number of beers at the Irish Bar. But my energy and enthusiasm for the bike were back after my half an hours break, and I decided to head further west into the Altai mountains – to a village called Tsengel.

In an ideal world, I would have headed deeper into the mountains and got as close to the Chinese border as possible … Joe Pichler had given me some nice waypoints of cool things to photograph. One of these days I need to come to Mongolia with loads of time up my sleeve. It seems everytime I am here I am pressed for time … last year it was because I was 3 weeks later in the year and the warmth was almost totally gone for the year. This year I NEED to get to Novosibirsk by the 15th September. My son has a birthday party back in Holland and I am flying back for a couple of days to be there … and I booked my flight from Novosibirsk!

I got to Tsengel about 7:30 pm after stopping endlessly for fotos. The track here took me over a pass at 2650 metres (9000 feet) … the wind was howling … it was freezing cold. Mountains around here are about 4000 m (13000 feet) high. My plan had been to camp at or near Tsengel, but it was too cold for that. I could see myself needing to take a slash in the middle of the night and muttering to myself “I’m just going outside, and me be some time”, never to be seen or heard of again. So I immediately asked around for a hotel. I didn’t expect one. If there wasn’t one, I would have ridden back to Olgiy via a different route, but to my surprise, the locals pointed to a building in the centre of the town and said “Hotel”.

The hotel turned out to be way more expensive than anything else in Mongolia so far – but the alternatives were freeze in a tent, or ride 90 minutes in the dark back to Olgiy. If everything had been still on the bike, I would have rode, but I had unloaded all of it to squeeze thru the hotel door and into the lobby. So I said I will take the 50,000 togrog ($40) room. There were no shower facilities and the toilet was outside.

The manager brought me a kettle, and a bowl and cup from the kitchen, as the kitchen was closed, and I made myself up some coffee and instant noodles for dinner. I raided my bags and found chocolates, biscuits etc that I had stashed away in case of dire need. I decided to use them up. I wont really need them now that I am almost out of Mongolia.

– – –

13.09.10

I stayed in bed for a while … I figured I was leaving Mongolia today and had two days to get to Novosibirsk 1100 km away, and still would have a day to spare.  It gave me a chance to catch up with some foto editing and blog writing.   I noticed while editing the last few days fotos, that the fender extender from the front low fender was gone.  I noticed it in the fotos.  I went back a few days through the fotos, and it seems it had not been there for a while.  Funny how I noticed that via foto editing rather than by seeing it missing from the bike.

About 9:30am I  packed up, found the lady manager of the hotel, who scrawled 15,000 on a piece of paper.  Hmmm I could have sworn she tried to say 50,000 last night.  So the hotel was only about $11.  That’s more like it, and fair value for Mongolian hotels.  Tsengel is high up, about 1900 metres (6500 feet) and it was well cold when I stepped outside to find some chaps to help me get the bike out of the hotel lobby.  While carrying my bags down to the bike, the lady manager invited me for breakfast.  Apparently it was included.  This is becoming better value all the time.

It was 10:30 when I left Tsengel, and about 105 km to the border with Russia.  I decided not to go back via Olgiy, but to take a short cut direct to the border.  It would be my last 105 km on dirt tracks for a while and set out to enjoy it.  I was riding well.  Yesterday, after the steep rocky track past Khotgor, I had been too tight on the bike.  I wasn’t moving well and the bike felt heavy.   Today I was back in the groove.  I floated on the bike and the bike floated over the landscape.

I reached the border in just an hour and 10 minutes. Just 30 minutes later I was through the Mongolian post and rode the considerable distance to the Russian post (over 20 km).

10.09.10

I left Nassan’s early, about 7:30 … but it was still after 8pm by the time I had left UB.  Traffic again was bad.  Had I been an hour later it might have taken me 3 times as long to get out of town.  Now out on the clear road, I refuelled and stocked up on water and bounty bars.  I notice the damn rear tyre I was carrying was a massive pain the nuts.  I had it heavily over to one side.  I didn’t want any chance of it being damaged by the exhaust gases.  But on the high speed rough roads I had been riding yesterday, the tyre had broken off my right rear indicator light.  Cest la vie … who needs indicators in Mongolia anyway.  But the bigger problem was somehow that damn tyre had knocked off, or unscrewed or broken my X-tank fuel tank lid.  It was gone … I just had a gaping filler neck – now full with fuel.  I had to figure a way to deal with it.  I grabbed a scrap piece of plastic by the fuel station and an elastic band and wrapped the plastic over the open neck, before punching a breathing hole in it.  I rode off.

As is often the case with me, I spotted locations I had seen before … on earlier trips … and took pictures of the same scene again … here is a comparison of a 2010 foto with a picture from the Tokyo to London Project, 1994.

60 km out of UB, I stopped in a roadside village.  I saw a tyre changing guy.  I took my bags off, ripped the back wheel out and handed it to him with my spare tyre to swap over.  While he did the tyres, I changed by wheel bearing seals.  I also noticed my elastic and plastic over the fuel tank didn’t work.  They were gone.  I was back to a gaping filler neck.  I took another piece of plastic another rubber band  – this time tying it tighter.

By 10:30am I was back on the road.  The bike felt much better now that I was no longer carrying a spare tyre.  Now it was all business.  I refuelled and turned off the main northern highway just before Darkhan, at midday.  Again I just had a gaping filler neck at the back.  I needed a better solution than elastic bands.  I opened a pannier and took out a spare Touratech strap (that had been used for the tyre holding duties but was now unemployed) and found some plastic by the roadside.  I strapped it tightly and firmly down over the filler neck.  This cant come off now.

I was on asphalt all day so far, and cruised into the big mining city of Erdenet about 2pm.  I refuelled and headed into the centre of town for lunch.  I was making good time.  I didn’t have the details with me but reckoned I had 200 km to go to my target for the day, Moron.  I found a pizza joint and grabbed my maps and went inside.  While I waited for my pepperoni pizza, I consulted my maps and realised I had badly miscalculated.  Moron was still 420 km away.  I had less than 100 km of asphalt left.  Damn … that’s at least 6 hours of riding … assuming it was all daylight.  I didn’t have 6 hours of daylight left.  So it will be more than 6 hours.  I kicked myself for taking it too easy that morning.  I had been cruising along, stopping to take loads of pictures.  Stopping at several shops for refreshments, taking my time with the tyre change … even coming into town for a pizza.  If only I had known!

I was tempted to wolf down the pizza when it came, run to the bike and charge off.  But the pizza looked good.  Surprisingly good for Mongolia.  I decided to savour the pizza.  I would get to Moron when I got there.  I wouldn’t get pizza like this there, that’s for sure.

It was 3pm when I left Erdenet.  First stop was 200 km down the road at Khutag Ondor … I decided I would grab some fuel there.  Then press on.  When the asphalt ran out I was disappointed.  The earthen roads were not like in most parts of Mongolia, large open fast sections where 100 km/h and more is possible.  They were twisty turny churned up sections, where it was difficult to do more than 70 km/h.  It was rugged county here and I stopped often for photographs.  I wasn’t planning to stop for any pics when I left Erdenet … but the scenery compelled me to stop every now and again and shoot it.

I refuelled at Khutag Ondor and pulled out of town at 5:30 pm.  It was still 225km from here to Moron.  At 60 km/h that would be nearly 4 hours.  Darkness will come about 8:30 … actually maybe 15 – 30 mins later now that I am a fair was West of UB.  I would have at least half an hour in darkness … maybe more.

The scenery was spectacular, but I had a new problem.  The sun was setting in my face.  Dead ahead.  I was squinting severely for over 2 hours.  By the end of it, I could barely hold my eyelids open.  The eyelid muscles were all crapped out.  Its dangerous riding into the sun when you are riding against the clock.  There is no detail. No contrast, no colour.  Many times I whacked into large rocks, or sudden dips that I hadn’t seen till the last minute.  I was grateful for the A60 rim.  If the rim survives today, its an amazing piece of hardware.

The sun dipped behind the mountains about 8:15pm … I still had 80km to go, and only about 30 minutes left of daylight.  With about 40 km to go, it was dark.  I switch my second headlight on and stared ahead into the wide pool of light, with terrain rushing past me at 60 km/h.  10 minutes later I realised I was off track.  3km off track.  I had been staring into the pool of light too intensely and not checking my GPS.  Damn.  It was time for an adventure.  Between me and the correct track 3km away was a small mountain range.  I decided to go direct over it … in the dark.  The things you do for kicks in Mongolia.  It took me a good 10 -15 minutes to get back to the road, and I have to say it was probably not the smartest decision I ever made, going cross country over the mountains, 40 km from the nearest town, in the dark.

I cruised into Moron at 9:30pm, the last 6-7km were even asphalt … woo hoo!.  It had been a huge day.  Just under 800 km (500 miles).  In the very centre of town I found a hotel … called the 50 – 100.  Moron is about 50 degrees North and 100 degrees East.  I grabbed a room, had a shower, then took my laptop into the restaurant for beef and beer … it had been yet another day where the last few hours all I had been thinking was … “mate, you have earned the beers that will come at the end of today!”

– – –

11.09.10

After the huge day on the bike yesterday, I decided I deserved a sleep in.  I didn’t get out of bed till 9am … then sauntered into the breakfast room.  I came back to the room and blogged a bit.  By the time I had eaten, packed up, gone to the bank, loaded up the bike and then refuelled it was 11:30am.  I didn’t have too much in the way of targets today.  After yesterday, I was going to take it easy for a day.

The first 50 km seemed like hard work.  I thought at this rate I will struggle to do 250 km today, but as my brain slowly started to wake up, the speed picked up and so did the aggression in the riding.  I stopped for lunch at 2:30, having done a  little over 200km at a place called Tsetserleg.  I had stayed the night at a different Tsetserleg last year.  There are a lot of Tsetserlegs in Mongolia.  Names tend to be reused a lot.  Decent octane fuel was proving hard to come by.  I threw 5 litres of 80 octane in the tank at Tsetserleg and I would have to put more 80 in a bit further into the day too.

Over lunch I took a look at my maps … Baruunturuun seemed like an optimistic target.  It was still 300 kilometres away though.  As a back up I though Tes or even Bayantes would do if progress was slow.

Again it was a day of great scenery.  This northern route across Mongolia weaves its way in and out of mountain ranges and while it’s a lot harder going than the simpler southern route, the scenery is worth the speed tradeoff.

I managed to get off track again today.  Despite having the best possible map of Mongolia in paper form, and probably the best GPS maps of Mongolia, they are still only partially accurate.  If they are both inaccurate in the same place, then there is nothing accurate to go by.  There is one rod marked on both the atlas and my GPS that I swear doesn’t exist at all.  So I couldn’t take it then, could I.  I did so freelance navigation for about 60 km … just following tracks that went roughly where I wanted them to go, till I reached a town.  From the town I was on a known route and normal service resumed.

Despite the one getting lost incident, progress was generally good, and I managed to average about 70 km/h … which on some of the roads today was very good progress.  The sun went down soon after 8pm, and I was only 30 km from Baruunturuun .  I made it into town in the twilight.  By the time I went searching for a hotel it was dark.  I found a guesthouse of sorts, for 5 quid a night, had a meal cooked up for me and sat back with a couple of Jalan Khar beers.

08.09.10

I woke early and relaxed at about 7:30 and began working on the blog and fotos.  The border post was just 500 yards away and I would be ready to roll and on the bike in 15-20 minutes.  I figured I would work for 2 hours and then get ready for the border.  At 8:40 I got up to take a slash and realised, while all the clocks in the house were completely out of sync, there was enough to make me think my watch might not be telling me the right time.  I found Misha, my skinny host, and asked him what time zone we were in.  He confirmed we were an hour ahead of Irkutsk time here.  That meant it was now 9:45.  I didn’t want to waste time so needed to be at the border at 10:00 … damn … time to wake up properly, fly into action, and get the bike all packed up and down to the border.

I was the first and only vehicle at the Russian checkpoint.  A different bunch of guys came out to talk to me, but they knew I was the English motorcyclist.  Word travels fast in a village of 300 people.  A senior chap came out and asked for my passport.  He explained there was a quarantine problem on the Mongolian side of this border and they might not let any foreigners in.  He took my passport away and said he will go and talk to the Mongolians and see what they say.  Until then I must continue to wait outside the border area.

It was after 11am when he returned.  I was expecting the worst.  I was expecting him to say “nope – they aren’t playing ball today” … but he just gave my passport back to me, and yelled at the gate people to let me in to the processing area.  It took and hour on each side to get through, and the hour I spent with the Russians was taken up with lots of chit chat.  I asked a lot about the border traffic.  I asked about foreigners using it.  He said they get up to half dozen or so a year.  Almost all cyclists and 4WD guys.  I asked about motorcycles … he said a Russian from Vladivostok came thru this post come time ago, arriving from Mongolia.  I asked about foreigners on motorbikes … he stopped and thought, then yelled over to check with a colleague … “nope, no other foreigners on bikes – just you.”

I was a little surprised, but not completely. So many foreigners come to Mongolia each year on bikes, but basically only use 2 of the border crossings – Tsagaannuur in the far west and Altanbulag in the north.  Why no-one ventures out this way is a bit unknown.  I had never heard of anyone going to north eastern Mongolia on a bike, nor seen any pictures, so I had wondered if anyone had used that border crossing before with a bike.  Now I knew.

Once I was thru on the Mongolian side, it was 1pm.  I headed into the border village of Ereentsav (Chuluunkhoroot) to refuel and stock up on water.  The Mongolian border village was larger and livelier than the Russian one.  I made my way south along double track ruts but my progress was halted 20 km out of town by a roadblock.  How can you have a roadblock in Mongolia you ask?  Well it’s not easy … but they had picked the spot well.  A railway crossing.  The only place where the various tracks converge.  They asked for my passport and I handed it over.  I was quite angry when they kept it.

None of the group of 6-7 people there spoke even the faintest Russian or English – I was totally in the dark as to what was going on, but they weren’t going to let me continue on.  Eventually I understood it was something to do with the quarantine zone.  Despite a very poor mobile signal here, a call had been made and jeep full of cops were on their way out.  Eventually the cops arrived and told me I had to go back to Chuluunhoroot / Ereentsav.  I tried to ask what will happen then, will I be given a new route.  But the answer was vague.  The cops took my passport off the roadblock guys and I mounted the bike and headed back to Ereentsav with the cops in the jeep following behind.

Back at the police station at Ereentsav, they brought in a Russian speaker who explained the situation – that for normal traffic the road of temporarily closed as part of the quarantine programme.  I asked where I can go … how do I move forward.  The cops had a long discussion and then said they will allow me to go down the road to Choibalsan, but the bike, my clothes and I must undergo the full disinfection programme back at the roadblock.  That will take about an hour.  I agreed, and they wrote me out my permission slip and sent me on my way.

Back at the roadblock, the guys were waiting for me, all suited up in chemical suits and boots.  They told me where to park the bike then I had to strip down to my boxer shorts and t-shirt.  All the clothes and boots went into some fumigation tent, I was given some penicillin mouthwash and had to wash my hands in alcohol.  The bike was sprayed all over with whatever it is they spray.  Then I had to wait.  40 minutes.

By the time it was all done, it was almost 4pm, and I was still only 20km from the border.  The next main town (pretty much the next town full stop) was Choibalsan, 200 km away, across narrow, grassy double track.  The sun would be gone by 7:30.  I would make it, but my plans of making it to Ondoorhaan (my plan when I woke up in the morning) would be out of the question.  It was 320 km further on from Choibalsan.  So I decided to take it easy and just cruise into Choibalsan for the evening.

Twice more I passed these quarantine checkpoints.  I showed them my new letter from the police at Ereentsav and was let though with a quick disinfection of the bikes tyres.

I got into Choibalsan early than I expected – soon after 6pm.   I briefly considered continuing on and consulted my maps.  But there was nowhere to stay between here and Ondoorhaan and in anycase, it would be pointless.  I wanted to get to Ulaanbaatar (UB) tomorrow, and it was 700km from here – a nice days ride.  I refuelled, and in the centre of town found a hotel.  It had a shower, garage, breakfast and free internet for the princely sum of 12 pounds a night.  I grabbed it, showered and headed across the main square to the “Stream Pub” a smart looking establishment that was bound to have beer and food.  It was a nice new place with fun staff.

I slowly filled myself up with Mongolian beer “Jalan Khar” and blogged the evening away.  Mongolian beer can be quite punchy – Jalan Khar was tasty but at 5.8%, a couple of half litre bottles at the end of a hot day does the job!

– – –

09.09.10

I left Choibalsan in no hurry.  Of the 700 km to UB, 320km (to Ondoorhaan) was earth … but as a ‘road’ between cities, this one should be wider, faster and have much more traffic than the tiny track to the border village of Ereentsav yesterday.  After Ondoorhaan it should be asphalt for the last 370km to UB.  After 125 km I was stopped … another quarantine checkpoint.  I pulled out my papers and they asked for my documents.  I handed over my International Driving Permit.  That seemed to satiate them.  Then they said I can not go further.  What??

Another car came along with a passenger who spoke some English.  While they were having their car disinfected, the passenger translated for me – apparently my letter only mentioned I had permission to transit the quarantine zone as far as Choibalsan.  The cops who wrote it hadn’t written UB on it, and so the bureaycrats were now insisting I go back to Choibalsan to get a new piece of paper.

I exploded.  When I calmed down I suggested they just call the officials in Choibalsan, and get them to grant me permission over the phone to continue on.  They grabbed a mobile phone and made some calls.  I couldn’t understand what was happening.  But they assured me it would not take long, so I waited.  And waited ,,, and waited …  Every half an hour they would make another call have an animated discussion in Mongolian.  Everytime a passer by who spoke English passed thru the checkpoint (also about every half an hour) I asked for an update … it was always, “we are just waiting for the call and the permission.”  Should be soon, but they don’t know exactly when.

After 3 hours of wasting prime riding daylight, a jeep with two British tourists pulled up, with a guide who spoke perfect English.  The Brits said what I had been thinking for over 2 hours now.  That I feign to ride back to Choibalsan, then 10km down the road just make a detour around the checkpoint.  The guide convinced the authorities to give me back my papers and I headed back in the direction of Choibalsan.  I was over a ridge and out of sight after about 7km.  I stopped and thought.  It will take me 3 hours to go back to Choibalsan and return to this point.  I will be given permission to continue.  It was just a bureaucratic exercise to cover everyone’s arse.  As if a piece of paper issued in Choibalsan reduces the risk of spreading foot and mouth disease more than a phone call and approval over the phone.  On the other hand, the quarantine zone is jointly manned and controlled by the police.  If I was going to make a detour around, it had to be far enough away that the policeman at the checkpoint did not see me.  The last thing I needed was to be on the run from the Mongolian police.

I decided to risk it, and headed north, into the hills.  I was not going back to Choibalsan.  I still had over 550 km to cover and it was now 2pm.  There would be checkpoints ahead too.  I had to think where they might be and avoid them.  The information I had gleaned is that there were no more checkpoints after Ondoorhaan.  That was outside the quarantine zone.

I made Ondoorhaan by 5pm, having skirted what I suspect was only one further checkpoint.  I refuelled in Ondoorhaan and hit the asphalt road to UB, arriving in UB at 8:30pm just as the daylight had passed into darkness.

My first stop in UB was Steppenfuchs (Fox of the Steppes).  Mr Steppenfuchs (aka Vait Scholz) is a German guy who runs motorbike tours out of UB.  He also sells tyres – he is he Mefo distributor in Mongolia … though he is his own main customer.  I had left Irkutsk 4 days earlier carrying Sherri Jo’s old front and rear tyres.  My plan had been to use my Desert / T63 tyres as far as the Mongolian border – using them up on the Russian asphalt – then switch to SJs old Desert and T63 for the run across Mongolia.  That plan was changed 2 hours into the ride when on a snack stop in a village on the south side of Lake Baikal I noticed the front tyre had strayed too close to my exhaust and now had a damaged spot in the sidewall.  I don’t like using damaged tyres … if I don’t have full confidence in the tyre its very hard to ride aggressively – I would be riding nervously waiting for something bad to happen.  And if something bad happened, then I would have no back up.  So I ditched the damaged T63 in the village and continued on with just the Desert rear.  I knew I could get Mefo knobbly tyres in UB and as far as I was concerned, the main tyre I specifically wanted was the Michelin Desert rear anyway.  I can’t say enough positive things about them.  This is THE Mongolia tyre.  Sherri Jo told me early in our time together she was glad I had suggested Desert rear tyres … as she had just been reading Chris Scott’s Adventure Motorcycling handbook, and Chris raves about them too – the Michelin Desert is (and I quote) “the real deal”.

So I pulled up at the garage that houses Steppenfuchs bikes and spoke to one of his Mongolian mechanics working on a car in the yard.  They said Vait isn’t around now and wouldn’t be in till midday tomorrow.  Damn … I took a look at my front tyre … the T63 was amazingly in pretty good shape.  It had done over 7000 km since being fitted in London on the way to the shippers.  There was certainly enough tread depth to handle the light sand on these Mongolian tracks.  My rear needed replacing – but I had the spare for that and could fit it tomorrow morning.  I decided to go away and think about it.

I popped round the corner to the Oasis Guest House.  I have never stayed there but I know a lot of bikers do.  The owners are missionaries – a bit too much religion for my liking.  There were no bikes in the parking lot.  So I decided to move on.  No point staying here … its out on the edge of UB and you need a cab to get anywhere.  I know a good place right in the centre of town where everything, bars, restaurants, internet etc is all within 100 – 200 yards.  I stayed there with Tiffany Coates last year.  After battling through UB traffic, I made it to Nassan’s guest house, and remembered the other reason I like this place … it cost me the princely sum of 6 quid for the night including secure parking.

I jumped straight into the shower.  I do most of my thinking in the shower.  I pondered the tyre dilemma.  I decided my T63 front was good enough.  I will change my rear tyre for the Desert I was carrying on the road tomorrow.  I must leave UB early enough to avoid the worst of the traffic.  UB traffic is a nightmare these days and worse every year.  With the key decisions made, I grabbed the laptop and headed down to Broadway Pizza, just around the corner.  They have good food and wi-fi connection.

I had a steak, washed down with loads of Jalan Khar and Borgio … another Mongolian beer.  After today I deserved those beers.  Come to think of it, every day since leaving Irkutsk I have really earned the beers.