To the lake and back, part 1
Arrived at Tsagaan Nuur to find that Хишгээ wasn't there, he'd gone off for a few days to the city. As it turns out, actually, there's not much at the Great White Lake except for a few simple ger camps.
The guy who ran our camp seemed nice enough, and the food and ger furnishings were above par. The lake is lovely and we spent three days there.
If you remember, the plan was to meet Хишгээ, get in with his horse operation and learn all about horsemanship. That idea quickly fell apart. Our host could arrange for horses for a several day trip, but there was practically no English to be had at the lake.
The four of us who had wanted to stay at the lake decided to spend a few days there and then head back to Tsetserleg instead (the comfy mountain town we were in a few days ago). Since the other two had wanted to go back to UB, we decided to have our driver change the itinerary and return to UB via Tsetserleg instead of Ogii Lake. Based on our agreement with Bobby (our tour organizer) we were supposed to be able to change our plans at will (so long as we agreed to pay for any extra days or petrol). Someone forgot to tell this to our driver, Baatar.
He steadfastly refused to return via Tsetserleg. He actually didn't even know that we were scheduled to spend 2 nights at Tsagaan Nuur. He refused to amend the schedule in any way. Saturday morning, we spent about an hour arguing with him and our ger host-- they both insisted that the road to Tsetserleg was washed out by last nights heavy rains and that the town was completely inaccessible--- for another week.
Suspicious, Jen and I decided to spend the afternoon walking around the other ger camps by the lake. At the first camp, we met a very nice Mongolian family who assured us that they could take us that day or any of the next to Tsetserleg for a reasonable fee, the road was fine. The wife spoke excellent Russian, which made the discussion quite a bit easier.
Walking away, we met a group of Mongolian youths in a swanky Mitsubishi 4wd van who no only told us (using gestures and since words from my phrasebook) that the road was good, but they could take us the next day for 50,000 togrog (about $42), a good deal. We told them that they should come by at 9am the next morning and if we wanted to go with them, we would go then. They agreed and we walked on.
At the next camp, we met two French couples who were traveling together with a personal chef and a guide/interpreter. When I introduced us in French, they invited us into their ger for some hot tea and fresh biscuits. Jen sat there in shock as we carried on a fairly easy and interesting conversation in French for about a half hour. Our hosts were very gracious and patient with my small vocabulary- staying in French but dropping a few English words here and there to help me out. By the time we left, their guide had assured us that there was no problem with the road and I had an offer to meet the couples at their homes in Toulouse if I ever pass through that way-- et pourquoi pas?
Lastly, we found a group of Dutch travelers camped out with their guide along the lakeshore. Again, the story was the same- indeed they were leaving the next day themselves for Tsetserleg in their (alas) fully loaded vans.
Jen and I walked back, trying to piece together the motivations for the deception. It was clear that our host wanted us to stay and spend money at his camp and on his horses, but why our driver was going along with it made no sense when we considered that he would likely be fired when word got back to Bobby.
In the end, we decided to take the Mongolians up on their offer of a ride and we spoke with them to confirm. A slightly English speaking girl had turned up in their entourage and she told us that they would absolutely, definitely be there at 9am margaash (tomorrow).
That night, Isabel, Ken, Elin and I decided to take our tents and gear up for a little backpack trip to the top of the ridge. We walked up there for about an hour, picked a camp with a view of the lake and the sunset and sat outside. The sun went down around 10:30 and there was still light in the sky well past midnight. It was around then that we saw the UFO.
To be continued. . .
The guy who ran our camp seemed nice enough, and the food and ger furnishings were above par. The lake is lovely and we spent three days there.
If you remember, the plan was to meet Хишгээ, get in with his horse operation and learn all about horsemanship. That idea quickly fell apart. Our host could arrange for horses for a several day trip, but there was practically no English to be had at the lake.
The four of us who had wanted to stay at the lake decided to spend a few days there and then head back to Tsetserleg instead (the comfy mountain town we were in a few days ago). Since the other two had wanted to go back to UB, we decided to have our driver change the itinerary and return to UB via Tsetserleg instead of Ogii Lake. Based on our agreement with Bobby (our tour organizer) we were supposed to be able to change our plans at will (so long as we agreed to pay for any extra days or petrol). Someone forgot to tell this to our driver, Baatar.
He steadfastly refused to return via Tsetserleg. He actually didn't even know that we were scheduled to spend 2 nights at Tsagaan Nuur. He refused to amend the schedule in any way. Saturday morning, we spent about an hour arguing with him and our ger host-- they both insisted that the road to Tsetserleg was washed out by last nights heavy rains and that the town was completely inaccessible--- for another week.
Suspicious, Jen and I decided to spend the afternoon walking around the other ger camps by the lake. At the first camp, we met a very nice Mongolian family who assured us that they could take us that day or any of the next to Tsetserleg for a reasonable fee, the road was fine. The wife spoke excellent Russian, which made the discussion quite a bit easier.
Walking away, we met a group of Mongolian youths in a swanky Mitsubishi 4wd van who no only told us (using gestures and since words from my phrasebook) that the road was good, but they could take us the next day for 50,000 togrog (about $42), a good deal. We told them that they should come by at 9am the next morning and if we wanted to go with them, we would go then. They agreed and we walked on.
At the next camp, we met two French couples who were traveling together with a personal chef and a guide/interpreter. When I introduced us in French, they invited us into their ger for some hot tea and fresh biscuits. Jen sat there in shock as we carried on a fairly easy and interesting conversation in French for about a half hour. Our hosts were very gracious and patient with my small vocabulary- staying in French but dropping a few English words here and there to help me out. By the time we left, their guide had assured us that there was no problem with the road and I had an offer to meet the couples at their homes in Toulouse if I ever pass through that way-- et pourquoi pas?
Lastly, we found a group of Dutch travelers camped out with their guide along the lakeshore. Again, the story was the same- indeed they were leaving the next day themselves for Tsetserleg in their (alas) fully loaded vans.
Jen and I walked back, trying to piece together the motivations for the deception. It was clear that our host wanted us to stay and spend money at his camp and on his horses, but why our driver was going along with it made no sense when we considered that he would likely be fired when word got back to Bobby.
In the end, we decided to take the Mongolians up on their offer of a ride and we spoke with them to confirm. A slightly English speaking girl had turned up in their entourage and she told us that they would absolutely, definitely be there at 9am margaash (tomorrow).
That night, Isabel, Ken, Elin and I decided to take our tents and gear up for a little backpack trip to the top of the ridge. We walked up there for about an hour, picked a camp with a view of the lake and the sunset and sat outside. The sun went down around 10:30 and there was still light in the sky well past midnight. It was around then that we saw the UFO.
To be continued. . .
posted by Scottley at 5:52 AM
2 Comments:
"...four to beam up, Scottley..."
and if my grandmother had wheels, she;d be a wagon
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