Having managed to time things right so we get to a local festival, having just missed many Nadaam celebrations earlier in the month, the objective of the day was to find the Orkhon Valley Yak Festival. Its exact location on a map was elusive, but riding up the valley until we found a big crowd was sure to be enough. But first, resupply was delayed by shops in town not opening until nine o’clock – which gave a chance to mosey around continuing my fascination with haunting overgrown playgrounds, elaborate fences, and colourful buildings.

I’ve concluded that grass in spaces, without grazing animals, is kept long due to the novelty of grass growing for short stretches of the year when it’s not covered in snow.

But I still find overgrown playgrounds disturbing.

Colourful block wall hiding the town heat plant – this one obviously coal-fired, I assume providing central hot water supply as in other towns and cities we’d visited.

Eventually we’d restocked for two days and began up the valley.

Easy going intially.

Following whatever track we could find became more fun as they wound their way through lava strewn areas.

Plenty of yaks, fittingly.

We could tell we were on the right track due to an uncommonly high number of people dressed in traditional finery riding past on motorcycles.

Still going, but with an ice cream stop in the warmth, surely the festival is to be found before those hills.

Found it!

Yet, in the other direction…

About as much yak action as we saw.

It was difficult to work out what the yak festival was about as the animal seemed barely featured, and disappointingly no yak comestibles to be bought. But it was good fun people watching, the locals that is – despite seeing the most westerners for weeks.

Even some Mongolia wrestling (the national sport), although what we saw seemed mostly posturing, saluting the flag, waving to the crowd and little wrestling.

What wrestling we did see was incomprehensible!

Of course, there was a tricked out old Prius around.

Appealing, but difficult to carry and even worse as a riding shoe.

Enough crowds, time to find somewhere quieter to camp.

Off up a side valley towards the Eight Lakes, a trekking attraction only accessible by foot and hoof.

I was keen to see how far up we could get towards the first lake, but that seemed a non-starter so we turned off and found a nice campsite by a river. Just as tents were going up a student staying nearby came and introduced himself, and was mightily concerned the river would flood overnight and we should seek higher ground.

Spoiler – this area did not flood overnight.

But neither did this one, and the mounds of rock did provide a little shelter from the breeze.

The student recommended we ride further up the valley, so off we went and were not disappointed.

Some good waterfall action along this stretch.

A rare grave marker…

…in the middle of a field.

The valley opened up and just kept going.

Eventually we had to turn for camp and dinner.

Our friend returned and it was interesting to hear of his life as a young student and how he’d done some compulsory national service – border guard in wintry conditions well below freezing point at some mountain outpost sounded no picnic.

But coats such as these helped.

Bit heavy to load on a bike though.

Our new friend spoiled us with clotted cream – finally, some yak products for the day!