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On our way to the Gobi desert


Finally, after 2 ½ weeks in Ulan Bator it goes on. Because of the flood of executions which we had to master in this town I am still not ready with my recordings. However, we do not want to remain longer. Not to be eaten by the awful rush-hour traffic we already get up at 5:00 o'clock in the morning. Outdoors it is still pitch-dark and even a little bit fresh. Because we lived on the roof of Ganas Guesthouse, we have to carry our whole equipment two floors down. Thus it comes that we are ready to departure only at 7:30 o'clock. In turbo modus we squeeze between the stinking metal heaps and cycle with a speed of approx 27 km/h through and with the traffic. Most drivers treat us well. Welcome us with loud horns or wave to us from their windows cheering up and admiring. We have to go into mountain direction. There a less used streets leading us out of town. We must follow the mountain flank, direction east, along the river Tuul. Then there comes a crossroad. From there it goes in the direction south.

When we reach the mountain flank we are in a residential area. Here drive only a few cars. To our rights we see the gigantic Zaisan war memorial built by the Russians. It sits enthroned about the town and reminds of the friendship between Russia and Mongolia, and of the Soviet support for the independence of Mongolia in 1921, the defeat of the Japanese Kwantung army at the Chalcha river at the Mongolian border in 1939, the victory over Nazi Germany and the Russian astronautics.Also we come to the place where we were present during our last stay in Mongolia to a Shaman ceremony. It was a 14th of October I remember about 100 shamans standing around a gigantic fire and everybody hitting his drum for the whole day. The rhythm got under my skin so that I believe even now to feel the oscillations. Our friend Roelof, his wife Anu who herself was a beginning shaman, had told us that the shamans dismiss the autumn during this ritual and welcome the winter.Remembering this experience we walk around on the place, then we leave without a lot of traffic the capital of Ulan Bator behind us. Some time later we are on a main road. Now the traffic has strongly increased. Trucks cough along us and cover us with dust and dirt. After more than 20 km we drive past the small city of Nalaikh. The traffic calms down suddenly. „From here it goes always straight to China“, I say. Still there are many mountains. The first accumulator is already empty after 20 km.The stop and Go in the town traffic, the headwind and partly going uphill have fast sucked the energy out of the accumulator. We ask ourselves where we can load again? On the map the next place is marked in 60 km. One man we are asking speaks about 100 km till the next village. With more than 30 °C in the shade it is very warm. After 40 km we are tired. The long break in U.B. demands tribute. "Rooaarrr", a fat all-wheel jeep hammers from time to time along us. Every few kilometres announces gruesome decay stench a dead cow or a dead horse. The victims of the rage lie with burst bellies, broken legs or neck at the street edge and stare to us with empty eyes.

At a mountain slope we stop, we see a cemetery where the Mongols have their dead people buried. Pulling the tube of our drinking backpacks we extinguish our constant thirst. From here it goes always easily downhill. To our rights wheezes and ratters the trans-Mongolian train through the more and more flat becoming country. „Thhhüüüüüiiiiiiit! Thhhüüüüüiiiiiiit! Thhhüüüüüiiiiiiit!“, the loud horn of the traction engine sounds. The train driver waves to us. We stretch the thumb upwards. Also he holds his hand with the thumb upwards out from the window and we believe to recognise a smile on his face. Like a mirage a small street restaurant appears after more than 60 km, where we finally may load our accumulators. Made easier we sit down in the scanty space and eat a Mongolian pasta dish. To the joy of Ajaci we fumble the fat and rancid tasting meat out. Three hours later our accumulators are full. We say goodbye to the landlady and lift our tired bodies back in the saddle. If one not always had warned us again and again at the latest now we would built up our tent. So, nevertheless, we try to reach a lodging place, where we also can load our empty accumulators overnight.After 95 day kilometres we reach a desolately looking house in one can also spend the night. The room costs 35,000 Tugrik. (15.58€). Beside the karaoke bar in the ground floor our cycles find a place. As I secure the bikes at the banister with a steel rope, a motorbike rattles near. With the shutoff of the rusty carriage the old Mongol falls almost from the saddle of his motorbike.„Oh no, the man is totally drunk. Hopefully he does not walk in here“, says Tanja as he already staggers into the door (Good afternoon) he welcomes us babbling "Sajn bajna uu". We answer "Sajn, sajn bajna uu", (Thank you, good afternoon). „Do have one cigarette?“, he demands. “Unfortunately, we are non-smokers“, I try to explain friendly. Then he sees our bikes and speaks something incomprehensible. After few minutes the situation starts to become difficult. „Do you like Mongolia?“, he would like to know. Tanja speaks with angel's tongues to him and tries to accompany him outward. Hardly he has tripped over the steps outside he turns again and stands once more with the same questions before us. After I have typed my short recordings in the laptop and have provided the pictures with description we go down into the restaurant. There is warm beer from the tin. In addition I order the only meal they have: Soup with noodles and rancid meat. Already after few spoons I stop eating. „What is wrong?“, asks Tanja who has renounced the diner in foresighted manner. „Totally over salted and the meat is full cartilage, fat and tastes on top of that as it would have lain too long in the sun.” Suddenly there shake the thin walls. Extremely loud, sloping tones maltreat the house. „What is this?“, asks Tanja startled. "Karaoke", I answer grinning although I would best flee.On the way back to our room we just see a young Mongol girl helps one of the singers to vomit directly before the door of the establishment. „He is maybe sick from his one song“, I joke going past. Again in our overheated booth I lie on my thermomat and try to sleep. No chance. The full moon shines through the muddy windows inside the room as if it was day and the gruesome shouting of the karaoke fetishists lets continually tremble the walls. It shrills and squeaks to me that my ears hurt. I look over to Tanja and Ajaci both lie on the back like beetle and sleep. Apparently the strain of the day has helped them to flee in the world of dreams away from this nervous terror, during I must control myself not to become a criminal…

The live reporting is supported by the firms Gesat GmbH: www.gesat.com and roda computer Ltd www.roda-computer.com The satellite phone Explorer 300 from Gesat and the rugged notebook Pegasus RP9 from Roda are the supporting columns of the transmission.




Latitude N:

Longitude E:

Daily kilometer:

Total kilometer:

The crow:

Average speed:
21,6 km/h

Maximum speed:
60 km/h

Driving time:

Ground quality:
partly bad asphalt

Maximum height:
1.700 m

Complete height meter since tour start:

Height meter of the day:

07:00 a.m.

09:43 p.m.

Temperature day max:
34 °C

Temperature night:
10 °C

Depature time:
7:30 a.m.

Arrival time:
05:00 p.m.

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