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I did leave Erdenet a few pounds heavier, though probably not all on my body. The last reason for detouring to Erdenet was shopping. I had hoped to replenish my food stores with items I hadn’t been able to find for some time, especially oats. In most regards the detour was a success. I even managed to sit out a storm that delivered a day of cold rains. On my way out of Erdenet I didn’t have any luck locating the ‘scenic route’ to Bulgan so I rode the pavement. There I made a quick stop to fill my stomach with some Mongolian fast food—a plate full of khuushuur(fried mutton pancakes). In the buuz vs khuushuur taste-off I’m firmly on the side of khuushuur, especially if there’s ketchup on the table.
The departure from Bulgan marked a return to dirt/gravel. I was happy. The novelty of cruising along a paved road had worn off after a few hours of enduring vehicles speeding by at 70 miles per hour. It was nice to be back in tune with the environment instead of worrying about traffic. At Orkhon I left the main route to begin my trek to the Gobi in the far South. Given my inability to locate the Bulgan-Erdenet scenic route I was wondering how I’d fare on secondary roads. Often the main route was nothing more than a collection of unmaintained tracks. I could probably count on one hand the number of signs I’d seen along these routes. So from Orkhon I did make some wrong turns, the worst of which put me on a track that dead ended at an abandoned mine. Fortunately, such wrong turns don’t always require backtracking. Riding cross country is no worse, and often better, than riding on a bad track.
Off the main route, I drew on whatever was available for navigation. I used my compass much more often. For every ‘road’ on my map there were at least a half dozen un-mapped. I found that as long as I headed in the correct direction I rarely got too far off track. At times I did rely on the Mongolian GPS (ger positioning system)—as long as there’s another ger on the horizon you have someone with whom to confirm your route. And, though not always present, the safety net of power lines ensured I had a route that at least went somewhere.
I camped south of Khisig-Ondoor and for the first time woke to a morning that felt like summer. It was mild and there was just enough humidity in the air to carry the smells of new grass and wildflowers. Could it be...time to dig out the short sleeve shirts? My visitor that morning was a friendly horseman. Usually these guys shake their heads in disapproval upon hearing about my travels. But this one took a genuine interest in my trip, even asking how many km a day I managed on my bicycle. Upon hearing my reply he gave me a thumbs up. For that I brewed up some tea for him. He was even more impressed with my stove.
My southerly route would intersect with my earlier route at Kharkhorin, a destination during my first week of travels. As such, I was about to experience another transition, the transition back to arid steppe. It was somewhat dreading this transition, recalling how painful on the eyes the landscapes had been in those days. So it was with some relief that I found the next section quite scenic. I was indeed arid but after a bit of rain there was some grass, some wildflowers and leaves on the trees in the mountains. Most importantly, the air was clear of the dust that seemed to be always present earlier in the trip.
The night I camped outside Kharkhorin I found myself--courtesy of mild temperatures, no wind and clear skies—watching the sunset for the first time. My only visitors that night were a handful of camels, a sign of things to come. I found Kharkhorin, finally into the tourist season, much easier to stomach the second time around. I continued on to Khujirt, enjoying another stretch of pavement. Although Khujirt is a tourist town, it is (like most Mongolian towns) not a very scenic town. Yet it does occupy a veric scenic location along the Khujirt River . I camped upriver from the town and enjoyed another mild evening and beautiful sunset. I could get used to this. I listened to a horseman singing as he drove his livestock back home for the night. The past few days had ushered in a heat wave and everyone seemed to be enjoying it.
As people whose lives are so closely intertwined with the seasons I suspected the Mongolians were feeling what I was feeling—how much easier life is in the summer. True, there were drawbacks for me. Skin exposed to the sun for the first time this year would have to burn and then darken. The body would have to adjust to riding in higher temperatures. But all in all I was feeling much better, as if a small burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I could see it around me as well. Animals which had been skin and bones in April were now starting to look healthy. As a result, I was beginning to see more dairy products, i.e. yoghurt, in the local markets. The nomads also seemed much more relaxed. Most of them were settled in their summer residences amongst green pastures.
From Khurjirt I continued on to Arvaykheer. Until I hit the main UB-Arvaykheer road I never felt like I was on the right track. Likely I wasn’t (the only indicator at the turn-off from the main road was a cairn) but it re-affirmed my approach that if you stick to your bearings eventually you’ll arrive at your destination. Before entering Arvaykheer I crossed the Ongii River . I’ll follow this river into the Gobi so I was glad it was running. I knew it would dry out long before the desert but at least it would keep me on track for some distance from Arvaykheer. With most river valleys not providing much topographical relief the presence of water is often the only way to discern between a major river bed and a minor river bed. By the time I arrived in Arvaykheer the mountains and hills that had kept things interesting of late were receding. I think it’s safe to say Arvaykheer is as unsightly as its surroundings.
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| Distance | Elevation Gain | Flat Tires |
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| Leg | 278 mi/447 km | 13916 ft/4565 m | |
| Trip | 1371 mi/2206 km | 13 mi/21 km | |
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