It seemed like I had only just got home and I was packing my bags again. This time for a short holiday to the Golden Eagle Festival in Bayan-Olgii Province, a state in the north west of the country. Apart from the 4.30 am pick up to head to the airport I was really looking forward to the adventure.
We were a group of seven traveling together, all Australian volunteers, and we were all bleary eyed as we arrived at the airport in the dark. But the check-in was efficient and the security very thorough before we were on our way in a tiny thirty-seater, twin propeller job. A cold toasted sandwich and hot coffee saw us all happy.
The view of the landscape below was just a hint of the surprises the country had awaiting us, rugged and varied. We landed and virtually waited beside the plane for our luggage before leaving the quaint little airport. We were staying at "Traveler's Guesthouse", a small family run business. We were actually in gers in the yard of the main brick house, within the city limits. But the location didn't offer too many creature comforts. It was very cheap, $7 per person per night but...I was back to the long drop squat toilet and no shower. The toilet looked like an Aussie outback dunny and smelt the same. And I reckon that fellas are still poor with their aim, no matter where they are. Every time I entered, I hoped that the board floor was strong enough that I wouldn’t end up in that horrid pit. Fortunately, there was a city bath house, which was close by, clean and cheap, and we did have a stroll up there for a nice hot shower.
As a group, we set out to explore the town. I guess a typical Mongolian country town, we found the main square, complete with red star on a monument, before checking out a rather extensive museum. In here there was a huge collection of stuffed animals, the entry cheap but if you wish to take photos, you need to pay about four times the entry fee. Outside, there were cows grazing in the main street and we noticed an abundance of old Russian jeeps and vans. I wanted to take home one of the battered Russian sidecars that just had so much character.
The people here are Kazakhs and their culture is evident in their clothes and language. Some do speak Mongolian and they seemed to respond to a few Russian words too. The Kazakhs are of Turkish decent and have roots in Islamic culture, although apart from no drinking or selling alcohol on Friday, religion doesn't seem to be a big force. They first came to this region in the 1840's grazing their sheep during summer in the mountains and after the 1920 revolution, were designated a land of their own.
After a meal in a Kazakh restaurant (where James ordered horse meat), we ventured further to explore the city, while a few of the group took off further afield for an overnight climb in the mountains. The two James (James A and James G) and I found the local market and we ourselves were quite an attraction for the locals. There were sheepskins for sale, complete with trotters, lots of Russian treats, knives that Crocodile Dundee would be happy with and lots of warm clothes. I found a leather coat for 50,000 (about $30) that I hope might be an advantage for winter.
We bedded down for the night in our ger, to say it was cold is an understatement. There were four beds around the circular wall, and my James and I decided to share, firstly because it was warmer and secondly, because my bed was literally a hard board. About an hour after we had gone to bed, our host came home and brought in a fire for us. With a head lamp perched on her head, she first struggled in with a large flat rock, followed by the flue which she aimed toward the hole specifically in the roof of the ger for it. Then, in came the chamber of the oven. Next coal and I could hear a gas blow torch to light it. Within a short time we were complaining it was too hot and the oven was literally glowing metal. But in the middle of the night it cooled quickly and I was so glad I could cuddle up with my personal hot water bottle next to me.
It is easy to make new friends in places like this and the next day we joined up with another Aussie and a Swedish guy to take a tour out to a lake. I was excited when we piled into an old Russian van, I had not been in one like this before. I can now tick that off and hopefully not need to do it again. There is no suspension and the dust was forming a cloud inside as we bumped along. And that was before we left the city limits. The quality of road only got worse but the scenery made it all worthwhile. This country just keeps unfolding surprise after surprise. There were snow capped mountains on one side and sweeping plains on the other. Huge rocky crags erupted out of the flat steppes. At times it looked like a lunar landscape, not a tree or bush in sight (which meant no hiding to do a wee). The sun created a palate of color with shadows and reflections, it was so beautiful.
The ride was so incredibly bumpy that we were thrown around inside the van and conversation was difficult but that didn't matter, it made it easier to soak in the beauty. Occasionally we would pass another car and once or twice our new Swedish friend asked to stop so we could take photos. Trouble was, once I got out of the van, it took heaps of effort and lots of pushing and pulling to get me back up, bit embarrassing but worth it. I need longer legs.
We stopped at a Kazakh house for some typical hospitality and a lunch of meat and rice and milky tea, $7 for six of us. The house was simple and made of mud bricks with a flat roofed. It was a chance to meet a family and check out their toilet, I wasn’t brash enough out on the steppes. A small brick enclosure in the corner of the yard, no roof so the guys had a fantastic view of mountains as they looked over the wall. Inside the house was a large stove, sunk down into the floor, which acted both as a cooking stove and central heating. Pipes ran around the walls carrying hot water. There were two bedrooms with garish color schemes.
The young son of the family joined us when we were back in the van and we bounced off to the home of a Kazakh family who are Eagle Hunters. The whole family, three generations, came out for our visit while Dad proudly showed off his eagle to us. Grandma produced a fox pelt as evidence that they really do hunt. I think we frightened the little girl at first, we are such strange looking people, but with a few games of peek-a-boo, she warmed up and we had her laughing and joining in. The whole family appeared very proud of what they had but it looked like an extremely simple life. They may be lacking in the material things and their environment extremely harsh but they are surrounded by such stunning natural beauty, I hope they notice it.
Another push up and scramble into the van, a step ladder might have been more elegant, and we were back on the rocky road being thrown around as we headed back toward home. As we passed a lake, we turned in and headed toward two gers on the waters edge, a request to take photos. Although an impromptu stop, we were invited in by the lady of the house to see the inside and to sample their aaruul, a dried curd which is left in the sun till hard. Such is the hospitality in Mongolia.
Back at camp, a visit to the city bath house and that was the end of our day. Tomorrow was the 16th Annual Golden Eagle Festival, and the main reason we had come to town. We were traveling by bus about 8kms out of town to an area shaded by a mountain to watch the craft of the Eagle Hunters. This trip did have me concerned for my safety a bit, working out in my head the impact of half of Mongolia's Australian volunteers coming to grief when this bus slid over the rocky embankment. But, surprisingly, we did get there safely. As a penance for my mistrust, we had to endure the speeches of the opening ceremony but we did learn the event is sanctioned by UNESCO.
The festival was an exhibit of the local Kazakh hunters who, while on horseback, hunt with eagles on their arms for wolves, fox, rabbits, basically anything they can find. They dress suitably for the weather in big fur hats and coats made from the skins of previous catches. There was one guy with a coat made from the skins of seventeen foxes, that would be some winter warmer. If not dressed in fur, their clothes are embroidered in a chain stitch with patterns in bright colors. Kazakh handicrafts all have this same embroidery and their gers are decorated in big curtains around the wall that become family heirlooms. These curtains are never finished, one side left unfinished because they say, life is never ending, so neither should the curtain be.
While waiting for their event, the eagles were kept hooded with leather hoods embellished with studs and gemstones until ready to hunt. The hunter, wearing a thick leather glove, sat on his horse at the bottom of the mountain, an off-sider had climbed up the mountainside with the bird. The hunter gives a wailing call as he starts to gallop and the bird is released. If the eagle does as it is supposed to, it swoops down and lands on the moving arm of the hunter. Of course, some eagles just wanted to play in the thermals. While the hunter called louder and louder, eventually getting off the horse and throwing raw meat in the air to attract the bird. I think that looses points.
The hunters are expert horsemen, they are extremely agile while sitting in the saddle. One of the competitions was being timed while riding at speed and picking up a token from the ground. How they didn't fall off, I don't know. The horses are reasonably short and quite stocky, but they have to be sturdy to manage the terrain of rocks and stones.
I guess like any festival, there was local food on offer. We had a BBQ kebab, pieces of meat alternated with lumps of fat and painted with a yummy sauce. With this came a piece of bread and warm milky tea. The warmth from the tea bowl was really welcome, the wind was bitterly cold and cut straight through the layers that I had thought would be ample protection. There were stalls, well not really stalls because everything was on the ground, of handicrafts for sale. Lovely thick fur hats which are a must for the Mongolian winter, embroidered bags and purses and trinkets significant to the event.
James and I took a wander during the lunch break. We walked down by a river over an incredibly rocky expanse. The walk to the river was easy but the return was harder, evidence that walking rocky ground is more difficult than it looks. But the views of mountains, a river and trees with autumn colors was our reward. We were back in time to see the last of the camel race and a few closing events.
Back on the bus, we were disappointed to have work commitments that were going to have us leave before the second day of the festival. But with things like tug of war, two riders using a gutted goat while on horseback and display of eagles hunting a fox, I am happy to miss the bloody parts of the show. While we waved goodbye as the bus set off for the second day, we were entertained by our hosts kids, two cute little boys. Nazka, our host, is Kazakh and her eldest son speaks both Kazakh and Mongolian. She runs the tourist camp by herself, with a little help from her brother and 85year old mother-in-law. She said that at the end of this month her family will do their slaughtering. One horse, one cow and seven sheep will see the family of four through winter.
Now, we are at the airport waiting for our flight back to UB. And again at the end of my travels, I'm looking forward to a long hot shower and a soft bed. I guess tomorrow it will be work and reality will set in again.
We were a group of seven traveling together, all Australian volunteers, and we were all bleary eyed as we arrived at the airport in the dark. But the check-in was efficient and the security very thorough before we were on our way in a tiny thirty-seater, twin propeller job. A cold toasted sandwich and hot coffee saw us all happy.
The view of the landscape below was just a hint of the surprises the country had awaiting us, rugged and varied. We landed and virtually waited beside the plane for our luggage before leaving the quaint little airport. We were staying at "Traveler's Guesthouse", a small family run business. We were actually in gers in the yard of the main brick house, within the city limits. But the location didn't offer too many creature comforts. It was very cheap, $7 per person per night but...I was back to the long drop squat toilet and no shower. The toilet looked like an Aussie outback dunny and smelt the same. And I reckon that fellas are still poor with their aim, no matter where they are. Every time I entered, I hoped that the board floor was strong enough that I wouldn’t end up in that horrid pit. Fortunately, there was a city bath house, which was close by, clean and cheap, and we did have a stroll up there for a nice hot shower.
As a group, we set out to explore the town. I guess a typical Mongolian country town, we found the main square, complete with red star on a monument, before checking out a rather extensive museum. In here there was a huge collection of stuffed animals, the entry cheap but if you wish to take photos, you need to pay about four times the entry fee. Outside, there were cows grazing in the main street and we noticed an abundance of old Russian jeeps and vans. I wanted to take home one of the battered Russian sidecars that just had so much character.
The people here are Kazakhs and their culture is evident in their clothes and language. Some do speak Mongolian and they seemed to respond to a few Russian words too. The Kazakhs are of Turkish decent and have roots in Islamic culture, although apart from no drinking or selling alcohol on Friday, religion doesn't seem to be a big force. They first came to this region in the 1840's grazing their sheep during summer in the mountains and after the 1920 revolution, were designated a land of their own.
After a meal in a Kazakh restaurant (where James ordered horse meat), we ventured further to explore the city, while a few of the group took off further afield for an overnight climb in the mountains. The two James (James A and James G) and I found the local market and we ourselves were quite an attraction for the locals. There were sheepskins for sale, complete with trotters, lots of Russian treats, knives that Crocodile Dundee would be happy with and lots of warm clothes. I found a leather coat for 50,000 (about $30) that I hope might be an advantage for winter.
 |
| James made a market purchase |
We bedded down for the night in our ger, to say it was cold is an understatement. There were four beds around the circular wall, and my James and I decided to share, firstly because it was warmer and secondly, because my bed was literally a hard board. About an hour after we had gone to bed, our host came home and brought in a fire for us. With a head lamp perched on her head, she first struggled in with a large flat rock, followed by the flue which she aimed toward the hole specifically in the roof of the ger for it. Then, in came the chamber of the oven. Next coal and I could hear a gas blow torch to light it. Within a short time we were complaining it was too hot and the oven was literally glowing metal. But in the middle of the night it cooled quickly and I was so glad I could cuddle up with my personal hot water bottle next to me.
It is easy to make new friends in places like this and the next day we joined up with another Aussie and a Swedish guy to take a tour out to a lake. I was excited when we piled into an old Russian van, I had not been in one like this before. I can now tick that off and hopefully not need to do it again. There is no suspension and the dust was forming a cloud inside as we bumped along. And that was before we left the city limits. The quality of road only got worse but the scenery made it all worthwhile. This country just keeps unfolding surprise after surprise. There were snow capped mountains on one side and sweeping plains on the other. Huge rocky crags erupted out of the flat steppes. At times it looked like a lunar landscape, not a tree or bush in sight (which meant no hiding to do a wee). The sun created a palate of color with shadows and reflections, it was so beautiful.
The ride was so incredibly bumpy that we were thrown around inside the van and conversation was difficult but that didn't matter, it made it easier to soak in the beauty. Occasionally we would pass another car and once or twice our new Swedish friend asked to stop so we could take photos. Trouble was, once I got out of the van, it took heaps of effort and lots of pushing and pulling to get me back up, bit embarrassing but worth it. I need longer legs.
We stopped at a Kazakh house for some typical hospitality and a lunch of meat and rice and milky tea, $7 for six of us. The house was simple and made of mud bricks with a flat roofed. It was a chance to meet a family and check out their toilet, I wasn’t brash enough out on the steppes. A small brick enclosure in the corner of the yard, no roof so the guys had a fantastic view of mountains as they looked over the wall. Inside the house was a large stove, sunk down into the floor, which acted both as a cooking stove and central heating. Pipes ran around the walls carrying hot water. There were two bedrooms with garish color schemes.
The young son of the family joined us when we were back in the van and we bounced off to the home of a Kazakh family who are Eagle Hunters. The whole family, three generations, came out for our visit while Dad proudly showed off his eagle to us. Grandma produced a fox pelt as evidence that they really do hunt. I think we frightened the little girl at first, we are such strange looking people, but with a few games of peek-a-boo, she warmed up and we had her laughing and joining in. The whole family appeared very proud of what they had but it looked like an extremely simple life. They may be lacking in the material things and their environment extremely harsh but they are surrounded by such stunning natural beauty, I hope they notice it.
Another push up and scramble into the van, a step ladder might have been more elegant, and we were back on the rocky road being thrown around as we headed back toward home. As we passed a lake, we turned in and headed toward two gers on the waters edge, a request to take photos. Although an impromptu stop, we were invited in by the lady of the house to see the inside and to sample their aaruul, a dried curd which is left in the sun till hard. Such is the hospitality in Mongolia.
 |
| Aaruul, the curd out drying |
 |
| The proud owner inside her Kazakh ger |
Back at camp, a visit to the city bath house and that was the end of our day. Tomorrow was the 16th Annual Golden Eagle Festival, and the main reason we had come to town. We were traveling by bus about 8kms out of town to an area shaded by a mountain to watch the craft of the Eagle Hunters. This trip did have me concerned for my safety a bit, working out in my head the impact of half of Mongolia's Australian volunteers coming to grief when this bus slid over the rocky embankment. But, surprisingly, we did get there safely. As a penance for my mistrust, we had to endure the speeches of the opening ceremony but we did learn the event is sanctioned by UNESCO.
The festival was an exhibit of the local Kazakh hunters who, while on horseback, hunt with eagles on their arms for wolves, fox, rabbits, basically anything they can find. They dress suitably for the weather in big fur hats and coats made from the skins of previous catches. There was one guy with a coat made from the skins of seventeen foxes, that would be some winter warmer. If not dressed in fur, their clothes are embroidered in a chain stitch with patterns in bright colors. Kazakh handicrafts all have this same embroidery and their gers are decorated in big curtains around the wall that become family heirlooms. These curtains are never finished, one side left unfinished because they say, life is never ending, so neither should the curtain be.
While waiting for their event, the eagles were kept hooded with leather hoods embellished with studs and gemstones until ready to hunt. The hunter, wearing a thick leather glove, sat on his horse at the bottom of the mountain, an off-sider had climbed up the mountainside with the bird. The hunter gives a wailing call as he starts to gallop and the bird is released. If the eagle does as it is supposed to, it swoops down and lands on the moving arm of the hunter. Of course, some eagles just wanted to play in the thermals. While the hunter called louder and louder, eventually getting off the horse and throwing raw meat in the air to attract the bird. I think that looses points.
The hunters are expert horsemen, they are extremely agile while sitting in the saddle. One of the competitions was being timed while riding at speed and picking up a token from the ground. How they didn't fall off, I don't know. The horses are reasonably short and quite stocky, but they have to be sturdy to manage the terrain of rocks and stones.
I guess like any festival, there was local food on offer. We had a BBQ kebab, pieces of meat alternated with lumps of fat and painted with a yummy sauce. With this came a piece of bread and warm milky tea. The warmth from the tea bowl was really welcome, the wind was bitterly cold and cut straight through the layers that I had thought would be ample protection. There were stalls, well not really stalls because everything was on the ground, of handicrafts for sale. Lovely thick fur hats which are a must for the Mongolian winter, embroidered bags and purses and trinkets significant to the event.
James and I took a wander during the lunch break. We walked down by a river over an incredibly rocky expanse. The walk to the river was easy but the return was harder, evidence that walking rocky ground is more difficult than it looks. But the views of mountains, a river and trees with autumn colors was our reward. We were back in time to see the last of the camel race and a few closing events.
 |
| Yes, it was cold |
 |
| The Festival from the distance |
Back on the bus, we were disappointed to have work commitments that were going to have us leave before the second day of the festival. But with things like tug of war, two riders using a gutted goat while on horseback and display of eagles hunting a fox, I am happy to miss the bloody parts of the show. While we waved goodbye as the bus set off for the second day, we were entertained by our hosts kids, two cute little boys. Nazka, our host, is Kazakh and her eldest son speaks both Kazakh and Mongolian. She runs the tourist camp by herself, with a little help from her brother and 85year old mother-in-law. She said that at the end of this month her family will do their slaughtering. One horse, one cow and seven sheep will see the family of four through winter.
 |
| Everyone was making new friends |
Now, we are at the airport waiting for our flight back to UB. And again at the end of my travels, I'm looking forward to a long hot shower and a soft bed. I guess tomorrow it will be work and reality will set in again.
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