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: