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.

That morning was my turn for the slight gut upset – completing the set for us all having minor illnesses in Mongolia. None of them lasted long though, we got off lightly for a month travelling where we had to treat all our water and were eating all sorts of food different to what our bodies are used to.

Didn’t stop me eating breakfast, the same as what we had for dinner the previous night – but an even larger portion. Food = fuel.

Riding out of town was a fair bit of guess work of how to best negotiate various streams and bogs across the wide valley. Eventually we found a solid path, although I was soon off it trying to draw a vocal but harmless pack of dogs away from the others.

Spent a lot of the morning looking at this range with its intriguing outcrops.

Walking to begin.

Twas a draining day as we rode into a strong wind throughout, on the rockiest and slowest surface we’d yet had. It was becoming apparent why the first bikepacker we’d seen all trip had spent so long complaining about the route – and we weren’t even at the corrugated section that he saved most of his scorn for. Seemed mostly to be a case of someone who had been by themselves too long and just wanted to talk and talk, the surface setting him off.

The most amusing part of the strong headwind was the effect it had on the thousands of jumping insects (grasshoppers/crickets?). Sunning themselves on the track, they would jump away from us as we approached (itself a scene due to the numbers); unfortunately for them, and us, the wind was so strong they would immediately be blown into us and our bikes. Cue a few hours of being constantly thwacked by splattering insects; right in the face was the worst, keeping one’s mouth closed was heavily encouraged.

Just as I was really needing one, toilets appeared out of nowhere – along with a small collection of buildings and a basketball court. Rachel and Ian chatted to a farmer and his son. It sounded like some of the buildings are community buildings, including where the grazing land is managed, divvied up from.

The steepest climb of the day, very short – mercifully as I wasn’t exactly full of energy.

Over the rise, we did managed to find a lunch spot out of the wind. Nice to catch a breath, and watch the birds have fun in the wind.

The gradual climb continued to 2500 m, which would be our highest campsite of the trip – and my coldest, still sleeping on the ground. We enjoyed the evening watching the light change on the hills, as well as having visits from local dogs and later a herdsman on his horse – we shared tea and biscuits, but little conversation was possible. A tough day with a dodgy stomach and into the wind throughout, but we all got through ok – but still having a much higher opinion of Rachel and Ian’s route than the one we were on.

Unsurprisingly, in hindsight, leaving my favourite of all our Mongolian campsites led to another staggeringly beautiful ride – up another valley gently, a few more trees around, lush pasture for the herds of animals dotted around between corresponding ger camps.

A fair example of being spoilt for choice of smooth dirt tracks.

Animals, pens, gers, an occasional more permanent structure, small vehicles, water flowing through a green-grassed and tree-lined valley – about sums up riding through this area. Lush.

Ninety or so minutes in and starting to wonder which route we’d take out of this valley and into the next, we paused near a collection of buildings and gers. From far up on a hillside the farmer in this spot came down to meet us. Through the language barrier, we thought he was inviting us in to meet his family and see his ger – thankfully, that is what was going on. For over an hour we were plied with tasty food made from, mostly yak, milk – yoghurt, milk tea, clotted cream on bread (the best!) and some sweet curly treats (which I find far too moreish than is acceptable). All the while we tried to communicate, mostly through translation apps, and share details about each others’ lives – with limited success. Very enjoyable, and filling, hospitality – but we had a big day to get to Khangai, but an hour easily spared as the days were long.

Part of our discussions centred on our way out of the valley; as the valley split into multiple heads we turned right and were pleasantly surrounded by trees as things steepened and the day warmed. To our surprise the climb included a switchback! Certainly made the ascent slightly easier than just going straight up the hill.

Always much to look at.

Quite the marker at the top.

Walking around the ovoo keeping an eye on the approaching storm clouds.

The steep part of the descent was unusually rough, which would account for the strange lack of Priuses on this stretch. It wasn’t long before the rain caught up with us, so there are few photos of the next long flat stretch. However, it did stop raining for a nice lunch break with entertainment provided by a large group of horses coming to drink at the water below us.

We briefly rode along a much larger valley and headed for the sealed highway to cross the river at a bridge. Thankfully we soon left the busy road for another quiet dirt road. We’d now joined the bikepacking.com Khangai Mountains Traverse route, near the end but planning to ride it in reverse. Thirty kilometres of flat riding to town was done in passing showers and into a bit of wind.

Getting closer…

Welcome to Khangai?

Still enjoying the colourful buildings.

Our usual methods struggled to find anywhere to sleep inside, one amusing tentative encounter did provide an option – but it was a dive with few facilities, so camping out of town seemed a better idea. Serendipitously, the son of the owner at our dinner restaurant was home helping his mother for a bit. Having lived for some time in Australia, he now normally resided in Ulaan Baatar, he spoke English well and was very helpful. Between them, it was worked out that a friend had a spare ger we could stay in – score!

But first, dinner was most welcome – as was not cooking over a dirty petrol stove! And more of those sweet curly treats.

Chasing the motorbike through town to find our night’s accommodation.

A chance to dry things out in the evening sun. This seemed to be a new build section on the edge of town, an unusually tall fence.

Out the front gate – certainly the edge of town.

The family was building a new house, only slightly bigger than what I’ll finally get around to building this year – so I was interested.

Polystyrene insulation.

A little more insulation in the cladding over timber boards.