Fantastically beautiful country

The weather forecast is accurate. As we load up our bikes, there is not much to see of yesterday’s snow. The temperature has also returned to around 20 degrees in the sun. “Thank you for a lovely stay and see you next year. Maybe we can actually buy the horses from your relatives,” we say to Munkchah and say goodbye. She gives us a few ready-made soups and a cake. “All products from Russia,” she says, as the Mongolians don’t like Chinese products because of their often poor quality and the extreme use of pesticides. At the end of the village we meet a young Frenchman pushing his belongings on a handcart. “Where are you from?” we want to know. “I rode my bike from Irkutsk to Mongolia. After 1,700 kilometers, the rear tire completely collapsed. I gave my jalopy to a Mongolian and made my way to the train station. There I try to get a train to Ulan Bator,” he says. We wish each other good luck and continue our journey. Things are going steadily uphill with the champions against us. We pedal for two hours up to an altitude of over 1,000 meters. As soon as we reach the top, we descend again for a few hundred meters. So the ups and downs are here to stay. We try to come to terms with it as best we can. We’ve had enough time for it in the meantime.

The landscape around us is breathtakingly beautiful. Large herds of sheep, goats, horses and cattle cross our path again and again. They are often driven by shepherds and their faithful dogs. We wave to each other in a friendly manner. Yurt camps bear witness to the fact that this lonely landscape is inhabited by nomads. Some of the higher ridges are still covered in snow. We let our gaze wander over the land of endlessness and enjoy its uniqueness as best we can. “And there are still supposed to be snow leopards here?” asks Tanja. “Maybe not here, but certainly in Mongolia. I’ve read about that. However, they are highly endangered. Their cases are very valuable on the black market. That’s why poachers go after them. Humans are also encroaching further and further into their territory, decimating their most important prey such as wild goats and musk deer and bringing cattle onto the alpine pastures. It is a vicious circle. The snow leopard is now forced to feed more on domesticated animals, which is why it is being persecuted by the herders,” I say thoughtfully.

At 3 p.m., after 42 kilometers over mountains and against the master, we reach an abandoned petrol station on a mountain ridge. We park our bikes at the concrete base of the former petrol pumps as a man steps out of the half-ruined house and waves to us in a friendly manner. “I wonder what he’s doing here?” wonders Tanja. “I think he’s looking after the old house. If there was no one here, people would probably dismantle everything that’s still usable and take it with them,” I suspect. We sit down in the lee of the building and pour hot water from the thermos flask into two Travellunch packs. After satisfying our first hunger pangs, we eat another packet of cookies before continuing on our way. The master suddenly stopped blowing. “Maybe he’s had a vodka and needs to sleep it off now,” I joke. Shortly after sunset, we let our bikes roll down a long slope to the village of Bayangol. Due to the lack of warming rays of sunshine, it is suddenly unpleasantly cold. It takes us a while to find the only simple hotel in the settlement. Our bikes are immediately locked in a separate room and several hands help us to get our luggage to the second floor. We were pleasantly surprised by the cozy room and the clean bed linen. Compared to Russia, the accommodation is much cheaper. A double room here costs only 15,000 tugrik (7 euros). We are the only guests in the restaurant. Before the landlady locks up and goes home, we get a salad, a bowl of rice and potato salad.

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