Adventures in a beautiful land - Kudu Expeditions' 2009 Round the World Tour |
 |
|
I am all alone in the Mongolian wilderness, a hundred miles from the nearest town, and for the past two minutes the world has been getting darker - I appear to be going blind. At first almost imperceptibly as the glorious colours of the landscapes before me begin to dull under a sparkling midday sun and a cobalt clear blue sky. I lift my visor and touch the bridge of my nose... no sunglasses on, just as I thought. I am a little unnerved to say the least but I ignore the nagging discomfort in my mind as I ride along through the indescribable beauty and serene ruggedness of Mongolia's remote western region. Another minute and another kilometre pass, and with them the world before me darkens a little more. I cannot ignore it now. I look up and once more see clear blue sky and the sun still high in it. I look back down and the world around me is darker still. I am going blind!
I am two thirds of my way from the UK to Japan on a recce for our 2009 Round the World Expedition. 16 riders will be travelling from London to New York on a ground-breaking tour with Kudu Expeditions, and I am here planning the route and collecting vital information to ensure the expedition runs as it should.
Recce bike
After 42 days on the road, through Europe, Turkey, across the Caspian, through Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan, I find myself riding across a truly stunning landscape over the plains of Mongolia's wild west. The country before me is beautiful, the sky above a deep clear blue. My route is due to take me primarily along dirt tracks, and I am armed with maps, GPS and a not insignificant amount of research to make my progress as straightforward, safe and efficient as possible.
 Recce bike
All of this pre-trip preparation is in vain however, as within half an hour of crossing the border from Russia my well laid plans lie in tatters. I am riding through a dreamlike landscape, following a bubbling stream along a rocky valley. All signs of civilisation have disappeared and I begin to feel very much alone, but happy in my fantastic surroundings. After a few more miles I am surprised to come across two locals, relaxing by the roadside, nonchalantly propping themselves up against their old Planeta motorcycles.
 First sight of Olgiy
They wave at me to stop and communicating through the usual waving arms and sketches drawn in the dirt with a finger, they quickly make it clear to me that I have a problem. The river crossing to which I am heading is now flooding and too high to pass, so I am looking at a 100+ km detour around an enormous lake to reach my intended destination for tonight. I am well stocked up on fuel and water, but I'm not quite so happy about venturing onto an unknown detour alone and without any kind of back-up. My two new found guardians insist on accompanying me until I have navigated onto the correct track, and so my group of three bikes now bump along the rocky valley floor until it opens out into a vast and shallow basin. I can see the glitter of the lake at its centre in the far distance, and snow capped mountain ranges shimmering through the haze beyond.
 First sight of Olgiy
To the north is my original route, now blocked by raging waters, and to the south my huge detour around the entire lake. We reach another track junction and my fellow riders indicate the correct direction in which to point myself. With a little apprehension I thank my guides and head off alone, into the wild once more.
The track gently drops into the basin before me, and the rocky, barren surroundings soon turn green. With the green comes mud, water and huge numbers of Mosquitoes. Very quickly my progress slows dramatically to a mere crawl.
 First of many bog holes
From scooting over dry gravel at 40mph, I am now covering a few metres at a time and in the thick of a real adventure. The basin into which I am riding is a vast marshland, with the lake at its very centre. The track I have selected drops deeper into the marsh, and soon I am surrounded by standing water. I have negotiated several large bog holes and at each one I am devoured by swarms of blood-thirsty insects as I am forced to dismount and manhandle the bike through. After one particularly deep hole, up to my thighs in water and straining to avoid being sucked down by the mud, I decide enough is enough. The route I am taking is going further into the marsh, and it is a matter of time before I come across a bog hole that is impassable for a bike and lone rider – the chances of catastrophe are rising. I have managed no more than 5 miles in the last two hours of exhausting labour, and the unrelenting bugs and draining heat of the midday sun are making life very uncomfortable to say the least. Looking to my right I can see the edge of the marsh – no more than a mile away over a trackless terrain.
 About to enter marsh
Beyond the marsh the greenery stops abruptly and the ground appears to be gravel and relatively flat. My options are to back-track for five exhausting miles, or take my chances and and cut straight over the marsh to dry land which appears tantalisingly close. It is a sweat filled, exhausting hour of struggle to reach dry ground. The air turns blue as I paddle the bike through mud, manhandle over ditches, dig out from bog holes and doggedly push, metre by metre to the edge of this swamp.
 View of Altai Shan
It is with great elation that I roll my bike out of the greenery and onto the dirt as I eventually reach the marsh's edge. Such moments, and such feelings of relief and genuine thankfulness, are what adventure travel is all about. Going headlong into the unknown and emerging victorious, albeit thoroughly caked in mud, exhausted and half eaten alive my mosquitoes. It is with such elation that I soon find myself whizzing along at a steady 40mph, dust billowing from my rear tyre, through one of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever laid eyes upon. For today, the adventure is over I think to myself...
 View of Altai Shan
I press onwards, happy that I am back on schedule and going the right way. The heat is very much still in the sun as my trail veers away from the lake and into a narrow canyon. The dirt under my wheels deepens
 View of Altai Shan
Suddenly, from cruising across open plains at speed, I am winding my way through the tight turns of a dry river bed. I round a bend and keep the gas on as the tail of the bike, weighed down by two fully loaded Metal Mule panniers, swings from left to right behind me. Suddenly the shingle deepens even more and I have no option but to “gas it” to try and keep the tail of the bike in check. It goes to the left, swings back to the right... back to the left once more and then I am off! I land quite hard and awkwardly but thankfully there are no broken bones.
 View of Altai Shan
The main problem is that my foot is jammed under a fully loaded bike with the foot peg digging into my ankle, which not surprisingly hurts. The sun is blazing down and I am very conscious of the precariousness of my situation. I have not seen another human being for hours, and although the trail I am on is clearly used, how often is another matter. Three or four vehicles a week perhaps? After sweating and cursing my way through a couple of failed attempts to extract myself from beneath the bike, I pause for some long overdue thinking time. I am tired and it has been a long, hot and tough day full of exertions. The bike is still firmly wedged on my leg with no signs of moving. Less thoughtless yanking and kicking, and more calculated planning is needed before what remains of my energy drains away. After pausing to plan, ignoring the sharp pain of the foot peg digging into my ankle bone, I make a final attempt to extract myself. It takes a quite bizarre contortion but I manage to twist around and hook the heel of my free boot under the far tie-down loop on one corner of the topmost pannier. The leverage is just enough and with a final exertion and great, melodramatic roar of effort I manage to lift the bike enough to extract my leg. I take a minute, lying in the dirt, to compose myself. Spending 5 minutes stuck under a motorcycle, all alone and perhaps 50 miles from the nearest human being,inevitably brings about some contemplation. The time spent, lying prone under a clear blue Mongolian sky, is enough to see my spirits soar once again. “It doesn't get any better than this” I muse to myself – I have got away with it once more and I am free to continue with my amazing adventure around the world. With that, all fear and worry disperse as I grab the bike, bash the one damaged pannier back into shape with a nearby rock, and continue on my merry way. This time both feet are down and I paddle through all but the easiest sections of track. Lesson learned!
In just a few more miles the river bed emerges from its tight valley into a vast open plain and much easier riding. Speeds pick up once more as I continue at a good pace through a country so beautiful and empty that I have to keep stopping just to take it all in. It is about now that my eyes start to fail me. Riding across the darkening landscape my common sense is telling me that my eyesight must be perfectly good... yet what I am beginning to see is telling me otherwise. The world around me is getting darker and darker by the second. I check the bridge of my nose for the 3rd time... nope, I am definitely not wearing my sunglasses. I look up to see a clear blue sky, the sun burning high in it and barely a cloud in to be seen. I look back down and the world is darker still.
 View of the Eclipse
There is something very strange going on and whatever it is I decide to stop the bike until I can fathom out what it is. The world has gone so suddenly and inexplicably dark, that all I can do is look about me in bewilderment. As I roll to a standstill, in this bizarre mid-afternoon dusk, one possible solution pops into my mind. With desperate hope I look to the sun once more and to my relief I can now clearly see a dark black disk moving across it. I am neither going blind, nor witnessing Armageddon, merely riding through a solar eclipse.
 View of the Eclipse
To find myself here, in the midst of such a serene and empty landscape, witnessing a totally unexpected eclipse is a privilege indeed. I stand alone, absorbing the utterly unique atmosphere that has been generated. I poach a couple of photographs which I know have no hope of doing justice to the experience, and then all of a sudden light begins to return to the world. Within a minute, the land is once again bathed in bright sunshine and I am left, shaking my head in wonderment at what I have just experienced.
With no-one to share this fantastic event with I simply re-mount and continue on my way. It is no more than 4 or 5 miles further on that I spot the first human I have seen for hours. In the far distance, a lone horse-herder is trotting towards me on his pony. I stop the bike once more and we greet each other with warm handshakes and smiles. There follows a slightly bizarre, but genuinely heart warming session of mimes between the two of us which translates roughly as “did you just see the solar eclipse... mental!”. He clearly had as much idea as I had that the eclipse was due. He then, with an apologetic air, begins to explain, using finger sketches in the dirt, that my intended route is not passable for a bike at the moment.
 River crossing
Yet again the river crossing ahead is just too deep. I have an alternative route but it involves yet another detour. I must look worse for wear because he keeps gesticulating as if to ask “are you okay?”. I feel great, other than a throbbing and swollen ankle from being trapped under the bike, but my new friend would not accept my assurances and began to rustle around in his saddle bags. I shouldn't have been surprised at his concern as I have spent all day riding in dirt and manhandled my bike through a swamp.
 River crossing
Add to that the cumulative effects of weeks on the road riding half way around the world, and I am sure I must have looked a mess. In a show of great generosity and genuine concern, my companion insisted that I take several swigs of refreshing mares milk from his supply, as well as 4 onions for sustenance during the journey ahead of me. He was not going to take no for an answer and I felt humbled by his gesture and his insistence. We parted company with a farewell handshake, and I continue on my next detour.
 Setting up for the night
My adventures are not over yet as it happens. A stone severely punctures my radiator and then a broken shock mounting makes riding precarious to say the least, but I manage to keep my bike moving. I eventually limp into town late afternoon the following day after a night spent camping in the wild.
I am dirty and exhausted, but will always remember the feeling of elation I experience on seeing civilisation come into view. A squalid settlement of crumbling buildings, wind swept streets and stray dogs, nestled in the most spectacular setting imaginable in the midst of the Altai Shan. I do get a few surprised looks from the locals as I roll down the high street, but I suspect I am not the first tourist to meekly limp into this outpost of Mongolia's desolate western region.
 Bike repair at Olgiy
After half a day in a local workshop getting the bike patched up, I am back on the road and in another four days I have completed the epic ride to the capitol, Ulaanbaator. A further two week's travel through Siberia and via Vladivostok to Japan sees me riding the skyways into the heart of Tokyo at the end of my epic journey. I have ridden half way around the world during seven weeks of non-stop adventure and explored seventeen different countries. The time I will remember the most, however, will be my adventures in Western Mongolia - the most beautiful and serene part of the world I have yet to encounter.
Russia-Mongolia border
Roll on our 2009 Round the World Expedition, and bring on the adventures! I can't wait to get back.
Article by Lee Mears of www.kuduexpeditions.com
Kudu Expeditions are running their Round the World Expedition this year. Starting in the UK, it will end in New York after 16 weeks of travel through Europe, Central Asia, Siberia and north America. They also run shorter adventure trips, from 3 week Paris-Dakar tours, to 2 week expeditions through Mongolia, the Altai Shan and Kazakhstan. Go to http://www.kuduexpeditions.com/for more details or call +44(0)1885 490828.
|
