Decamped and started the day with more thunder booming in the distance, but it and any rain missed us. Cruisey ride down the valley with wind behind.

Strangely imposing buildings, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

A collection of stupa around here too.

Mostly easy going down the valley, with the occasional climb.

And goats aplenty.

The route and main road turned away from the river, heading steeply up a hill. We thought we could avoid that by sticking to a lower road. But it got a bit close to the flooded river so we got a little hike-a-bike practice pushing up above and around some bluffs before dropping back to the flood plain level and continuing the easy going for a bit.

Alarmed to find traffic again, we were nonetheless happy to be heading into the first town we’d seen for a few days – Ikh Tamir. Even better, we watched brunch, khushuur (mutton pockets), being made and cooked in front of us.

Leaving town for the provincial centre of Tsetserleg, the road was even busier with end-of-holidays traffic. Our tolerance for this was low, so we dived off to take a pylon access road over the hills. More gradual climbing up a long valley, strangely having to go around fenced land, before the track narrowed and steepened significantly. It didn’t look like anyone had serviced this part of the electricity infrastructure for a long time as the track soon petered out to little more than a goat track. Hot work pushing up there in the afternoon heat, but there were sufficient shady patches for brief respite and plenty of wildflower to brighten things.

Our reward for the steep 300 m gain was a long, mellow descent through the same elevation – much fun and one of the riding highlights of the trip.

Before long we were at the gates of Tsetserleg looking down on a big town nestled in a valley surrounded by striking granite cliffs.

Fairfield Guesthouse, well known among bikepackers traveling in the area, lived up to its reputation with friendly and helpful Australian owners and staff, plenty of facilities for those travelling by bike, and excellent food. A great place to have our first rest day, most welcome after twelve days of riding.

Even got a burger with beetroot in it!

And thickshakes! (Rachel’s photo.)

The skies cleared overnight, I woke to the sounds of munching outside my tent – surely the others weren’t up already and eating so close. Poking my head out, we were surrounded by breakfasting yaks! By the time I got out the door, they’d dispersed somewhat.

Heading back to the track, with some indications it might be a bit rocky.

It was more than twenty kilometres of rocky descent – good fun, but not quick.

(Rachel’s photo.)

(Rachel’s photo.)

(Rachel’s photo.)

(Rachel’s photo.)

Some big ger camps broke up the green.

Holding pen which was mostly fenced by rocks.

I was surprised to suddenly see a scrawny wee fox running across the track – the only one we saw.

(Rachel’s photo.)

Valley starting to widen a bit now.

(Rachel’s photo.)

Unusually, we met a group of four bikepackers – we’d only seen a lone bikepacker, days ago, so far. Even more unusually, they were from Bengaluru – we enjoyed sharing stories of past and current trips. We were pleased to hear the route was about to get smoother for us. We may have couched our stories of just how rough things were about to get for them – especially as half the group was on skinnier-tyre gravel bikes.

(Rachel’s photo.)

A good spot to pause and watch bikers, Priuses and cattle go past.

Too easy.

More large ger camps around here too.

Here began one of the most fun sections of mountain-biking of the trip.

The track suddenly became cross-country-esque, twisting, climbing and dipping through a series of small hills. I had a ball trying to chase down a LandCruiser that had earlier passed us – almost caught it too.

We turned east, missing the town of Chuluut, and found the faint track through a small basin before struggling up the steep exit onto a plateau between rivers. With storm clouds gathering to the north, it seemed a good time to lunch before we got soaked.

Making a concerted effort to outrun the storm, unsure where we thought we would hide, good progress was being made down into and out of the next valley. That is, until a passing Prius (what else?) passenger waved us down and promptly rushed around offering us hot milk tea and cheesy yak treats. Yum!

Unfortunately the couple were camera shy, but here’s the milk tea.

Not so camera shy.

The rain did catch us eventually, but having donned rain gear it amounted to nothing.

More cyclists! We had a bemusing conversation with a German cycle tourist on a very heavily loaded and skinny-tyred touring bike, travelling with his teenaged daughter (didn’t hear a peep from her, she didn’t look in the least bit amused). I struggled to comprehend how they were doing this route at about twenty kilometres per day and how they could carry enough food to make that possible. We were surprised to learn there was a store, recently opened in an old school, just ahead.

We found a few gers around the old school building, and were promptly invited into one of them. The son and daughter of the women whose home this was, and their children, were visiting from Australia and Austria for the summer so there were some interesting chats and accents for being in northern Mongolia. Alongside the normal tasty food and tea offered, Swiss chocolate was a new one!

Not really needing anything, we got a few things from the store – as such things are welcome sights in the middle of nowhere when travelling such distances and are to be supported. Out of one valley and into the next, it was the biggest climb of the day – but a piddling one really.

Still, worth stopping at the the ovoo.

A steeper, faster descent than earlier in the day.

Back to the flat lands heading for a larger river than we’d seen for a while.

Soon after getting near it, we turned off the road to find somewhere to camp by the river. Unexpectedly, it was somewhat in flood – but we found a campsite where we got dealt to by silent mosquitoes. Dinner became rushed as another storm approached. Heavy rain drops and the crack of thunder sent us scurrying to eat in our tents. Soon we were surrounded by cracking thunder and lightning – easily the closest I’ve been to such an explosive display for a long time, if ever. It eventually passed and we were all unscathed – an exciting end to another grand day.

Departing another great riverside campsite under clear skies it was back to the horrid corrugations for the thirty kilometres to Jargalant (another one, I’ve taken to calling it Jargalant II for obvious reasons). The surface was a bit softer and a little climb gave a good vantage point of the wide valleys we were biking through.

Approaching town, we crossed a dozen or so braids of the river. The deepest about waist height – my bottom bracket was not the same after that, it took three months before someone could fix the inconsequential, but mildly annoying, click.

Jargalant II looked very sleepy, but we found a store with very helpful staff. When we asked after a cafe, or similar, someone led us in a car through quite a few streets to one that was happy to feed us – even though they weren’t really open. This after a young passenger in a car had thoroughly quizzed us about our trip – her English language skills were impeccable. She then found us at the cafe later to gift us a sushi roll that her mother had just made :).

Before leaving town, now supplied for three days, both Rachel and Ian took their lives and health into their hands daring to use another of the common long-drops behind a gas station. Most of them looked as though the floor above the pit could collapse at any moment – and this was a fine example of that. Regrouped, with no-one having fallen in what would surely have been a pit of despair (and more besides), it was time to head for the last big pass of the route – about 2600 m.

We found a series of climbs up to false summits – as typical, they steepened markedly at each crest, before we lost elevation again.

Unexpectedly, we spotted a small enclosure of deer stones (as if they would escape) – approximately five thousand years old! Well, we were expecting to see some – but at the top of the pass; these seemed to be bonus ones.

Still climbing through some beautiful hills as the weather closed in.

At the summit we took quite some time to find the deer stones that were highlighted in the route description – but couldn’t find them. We decided that we’d seen them earlier and they had been moved in the time since the route was compiled. This long delay meant that the weather caught up with us as we dropped quickly from the pass trying to find a campsite and water.

Found one, although it proved to be close to a popular spot for crossing the river.

This was one of the few times we had to cook and eat in the rain; also memorable for possibly the worst meat we ate on the trip – now remembered as the dog-roll meal, we all lived to tell the tale with varying degrees of fondness!

One of our bigger days in Mongolia, now that I look back on it:

Bit of help (?) as we went about our morning routine.

Gentle climbing to start, as the scenery continued to remind of the Scottish Highlands.

Heading to our highest elevation of the trip was unexpectedly easy going.

The general flatness was even more so at the top.

Not a dramatic pass.

Rare group photo; guess 2727 m was worth marking.

A long gradual descent, over forty kilometres at less than a percent, was noteworthy for all the animals we saw on some lush grazing land.

So many horses. Not fast enough to get photos of the marmots that we started to see – they ran straight for their burrows on our approach.

A spot of volleyball practice outside a ger camp.

Lunch as the grass started to get a bit more sparse.

And rocks appeared.

Joining another valley, we turned south-east and climbed a little,

crossed a river,

and followed the powerlines to the crest.

By now we were starting to get the idea that we approaching the corrugated section that our German acquaintance had despaired over when we met him in Khangai.

At least we were going downhill, and slightly more steeply than earlier in the day.

Thirty kilometres of bumping all over the place lay ahead of us. There were many vehicle tracks to choose from, which provided a challenge in trying to find the smoothest one. Which one that was was constantly changing.

Not needing to resupply at the town of Zag, and tiring of the route, we detoured slightly up-valley to find a good campsite.

We found a great one near the river, arriving with our senses of humour just intact after the corrugations.

More animals and herding to watch.

An excellent spot for the night.