Mongolia Part 2 – More Tough Roads (July 23-29)

On July 23rd we head south to Khovd, the next aimag (provincial) capital. The road is pretty good and we make good time until we cross Buraatyn Davaa (pass) and descent to a low plain surrounded by mountains. Remember what happened in our last low plain, the Valley of Death? Well as soon as we reach this plain our nice, prominent track splits repeatedly into a number of smaller tracks that go in every direction. I follow the track that looks like it has been used the most but this leads us in a direction different from what my Mongolia map and GPS map indicate is the way out of the valley. After a while the track goes through an area of standing water and this is where I turn around and head back up the pass to look for a track that we might have missed.

Near the top of the pass a couple with an overloaded small truck motions us to stop and ask if we have a hand pump because their truck has a flat front tire. I offer them my 12V pump and they are happy I’m there. I know that everyone used to change tires, even truck tires, by hand but I’ve never seen this done so it’s fun for to watch and help the couple take the tire off the rim, remove the tube, insert a new tube and put the tire back on the rim. It’s like changing a tire on a bicycle but much bigger and more work.

We learn that the couple’s names are Duanbek and Farida and they are from Olgii. They just completed a long trip to China where they bought as many household appliances and furniture as they could load onto their truck and are now bringing everything back to sell in Olgii. Their truck is a 1990 Mitsubishi Canter with 231,000 miles. It has no front brakes, the main gas tank has a leak, and all the tires are cracked and are even missing pieces of them. But the couple is able to cross the mountains into China in this overloaded and underpowered 2WD truck. Amazing!

Unfortunately the tire won’t hold air. We must have pinched the tube while mounting the tire. We take everything apart again, fix the tube and remount the tire. Now when we inflate the tire the tire valve jumps into the rim and can’t be reached to finish inflating the tire. The tube must have been twisted and the pressure pulled the valve into the rim. It’s dark now so Kirstin sets up our tent about 50 m from the road and we park our car next to it. We can see a couple of gers about a half mile away but otherwise there is nobody here. In a short while Duanbek and Farida join us in their tent, a camouflaged pop-up tent that says “US Army” on it with a “made in China” label. I’m reminded of Kirstin’s slogan…Mongolia, it’s camping all the time.

The next morning (July 24th) we remove the tire a third time, untwist the tube and remount the tire again. But once again the valve jumps into the rim! But Duanbek is able to fish it out with an ingenious tool he makes with some wire and a screwdriver. This time he uses two old washers and some epoxy glue to keep the valve from slipping into the tube and the tire can be inflated. I have to say I really admire Duanbek and Farida. They are hard working, clever and self reliant. There’s never any thought of giving up or calling for help. There’s a problem and they just keep working on it.

Before we leave we ask Duanbek how we can get out of the valley ahead and reach Khovd. He draws us a detailed 3-part map and we are on our way.

We drive back into the plain and try to follow Duanbek’s map as best we can. When a local on a motorcycle passes us going the other way we ask him to confirm that we are heading in the right direction (toward Khovd) and he says no, it is in the opposite direction through the plain. Maybe we aren’t interpreting Duanbek’s map correctly? So we go the opposite way but the track becomes really small and we can’t imagine this is the right way. A few hours later we’ve tried every road and each one either leads in the wrong direction or becomes a really, really tiny road that just about disappears. We ask a shepherd and then at a ger and everyone tells us to go in the opposite direction from what our map and GPS tell us.

Kirstin starts to get really scarred as it appears we are not going to find our way out of this plain. I’m worried about the ugly sound that our car’s drivetrain made several times in this plain – an intermittent sound like a CV joint or wheel bearing going bad. Plus it is very difficult communicating with locals. We come from two completely different worlds and speak two totally different languages. There is really nothing in common between Mongolian and English. Our only choice now is to go in the “wrong” direction and hope that the car continues to drive. Thankfully after a few miles the track becomes more prominent and is clearly the “highway” we want, even thought it goes in the wrong direction. The car noise also goes away. Maybe a stone had worked its way into the brakes and now freed itself again.

So the track I took last night was actually correct and this is also the direction that all three people we asked indicated. Duanbek’s map was also correct but we interpreted how the first and second parts fit together incorrectly. What confused us was both our Mongolia maps show the road going out of the valley in the opposite direction and directionally (from my GPS) the road goes the wrong way for a about an hour’s drive before turning and heading for Khovd. It’s taken us 18 hours to go 5 miles. Crossing Mongolia is not easy!

But now the road is relatively good and we make our way to Khovd. Our guidebook says there is a tourist ger camp just north of town and even gives GPS coordinates. But even this proves difficult – we have the coordinates and know which direction to go but can’t get there! There is a river, a fence, some bushes and industrial buildings in the way. After an hour we give up and look for a hotel in town. Here we get an entire apartment for $27 that is really nice. We buy some groceries and enjoy a pasta dinner in our room.

The next day on July 25th we head north toward Ulaangom. At first the road is great, then good, then an ok dirt track that keeps splitting but the options rejoin after a little while so we are able to stay on track. We are joined by the nicest family as we eat our picnic lunch. We share some food with them and their kids are so grateful, we show some pictures from home and enjoy each other’s company.

After a full day of driving we are nearly in Ulaangom and I pull off the road and behind a knoll where we enjoy an absolutely idyllic camping spot. There is steppe all around us, we can see for miles and miles, the temperature is perfect, there are a few clouds and sunshine, we are near the road but out of sight. It’s incredible being here.

On July 26th we get back on the road believing that in 45 minutes we will be in Ulaangom. But it wouldn’t be so easy. It rained at night and the road is wet. First there are a few small streams to cross but then about 10 miles from Ulaangom we come to a really big river. There is a truck parked on the other side, wanting to come my way and the driver points to where he thinks the best crossing is. I assume he is waiting for the river to subside. I walk through the river many times, finally agreeing with the driver that where he pointed is indeed the best place to cross. This is a serious river crossing. The water is 2 feet deep, the riverbed is made of 10” boulders, and the water is rushing so fast that it runs up my leg to about 3 feet and it is very difficult to stay upright. I think this is about the limit of what our car can do and after several hours I’m ready to try the crossing when a Russian-made 4WD van and a truck carrying Mongolians arrive on my side of the river. They are skeptical that my line across the river is best so we investigate two possible lines together . I do most of the crossing while they do most of watching (photo below).

 

The Mongolians don’t like either of the crossings and when a local comes by he tells the two vehicles about a 20-mile detour to another river that has a bridge! So I follow the van and truck through the detour, which I would never, ever have found myself. The photo below shows the truck and its “cargo” driving in front of me. The whole bed sways back and forth as the truck goes around turns and the entire truck looks like it is going to tip over.

We make it to Ulaangom, stock up at the grocery store, buy gas and check internet, then start our long drive to Moron, the next aimag capitol. This drive is the longest section between two aimag capitals and would take us the next four days (July 26-29). The roads are generally pretty bad and a full day’s drive equals 100-150 miles.

At Uvs Nuur, a huge shallow salty lake, the road splits several times and each time the two options are only a few of degrees apart, yet they gradually diverge. There is no way to know which track to take. But luckily we have the GPS track of some Australians that drove from Ulaangom to Moron (and they made it) in 2004 so we can pick one track, drive a little, then check our GPS if we are on the Australians’ track that leads to Moron. These four days we have our invisible Australian friends guiding us to Moron. I can’t imagine how long this would take us without their track.

Along the way, we see many eagles, horses and camels. At one point we come up to a large brown object that we wonder what it is. As we get closer we see it is a pack of camels all bunched so close together that it looked like one large brown object. Our quote of the day, spoken in a tone that says it’s totally obvious, is “It’s a camel pack.”

One of the villages we pass is Dzuungovi, a very nice little Buddhist village. It is clean, people are working together, there is a nice temple in the center, and more people ride horses than drive cars. It’s really cool. We get some 80 RON gas from an unmarked pump after a long discussion of whether it is gasoline or diesel and continue on our way.

At one of the places we camp we see a jumping rodent with a pom-pom like fluffy thing at the end of its tail. It jumps upright on its hind legs like a kangaroo, is nearly as big as an American squirrel, and is really fast. It runs right to our camp and Kirstin has to shoo it away. That night, just before we get into our tent, 4 horses arrive and stand close by. It is unnerving but we think they either somehow feel secure by us or they are curious. Below is a photo of our surreal camping spot where we are visited by “the hopper” and the horses.

At the village of Tes the gas station is out of gas but we need to fill up. We ask a guy in town if there is anywhere else to buy gas and he kindly get on his motorcycle and drives us to an unmarked hand-crank pump at the edge of town. He gets a woman from a nearly house and we fill up with 80 RON gas (I think). This is our second fill-up with really low octane fuel. The photos below show the man that brought us to the pump and me “pumping” gas.

We camp in the steppe and the next day we drive 10 hours and get 130 miles closer to Moron. It is a rough road and very slow going.

On the third day of our journey from Ulaangom to Moron there are lots and lots of muddy sections. A 4WD with good ground clearance and off-road tires is absolutely necessary today. During the first six hours of driving we don’t see a single vehicle. Where are all the tourists, we keep saying. But then we come to a village and just outside that village at a small stream with muddy banks we encounter a small truck stuck in the mud. I’m able to get through the mud and then pull the truck out. I’m in 4WD low range and on dry dirt and just as all four wheels start to spin the truck comes free.

The driver and his 7 passengers are elated and immediately bring out some vodka. In traditional Mongolian fashion, the first cup gets thrown to the wind to honor the sky gods. This is a mostly Buddhist area but Shamanistic customs remain. After many thanks and a few pictures we are all on the road again, all heading toward Moron.

After a long day of driving (160 miles in 12 hours) we pull off near the top of a pass near 6200 feet to camp. We notice there is Edelweiss growing around us, as well as lots of other small flowers. It is a beautiful spot. It’s a chilly night, and when I check the temperature in the morning it is only 42F.

On day four we finally arrive in Moron where we have lunch in a hotel restaurant, stock up on food from a grocery store and buy 92 RON gas from a real gas station. Then we drive north to Khatgal on Khövsgöl Nuur, an absolutely beautiful freshwater lake surrounded by mountains. The road to the lake is pretty bad. But we are super happy when we arrive because we’ve made it this far, about half the distance we need to cover in Mongolia, and because we plan to spend the next couple of days relaxing and doing activities that don’t involve our car or roads.

Mongolia Part 1 – Valley of Death and Naadam Festival (July 20-23)

Mongolia is one of the countries of this trip that I was most looking forward to. The Mongolian Steppe, huge open spaces, expansive freshwater lakes surrounded by mountains, untouched nature, Mongolian Buddhism, and a place very different from where I’m from all interested me greatly.

On July 20th at 2:00 p.m. we arrive at the end of the road that climbed its way out of the Altai Republic in Russia and delivered us to the Russian border post, 20 km before the actual Russia-Mongolia border. Apparently Russia likes to have a wide buffer zone. Are they expecting the return of Ghinggis Khan? There is a line of about 10 vehicles waiting at the gate, waiting to get into the actual Russian border post area.

It takes us 4 hours to get through the Russian post, mostly because we have to wait to be let into the border post area. Waiting with us are a German couple on motorcycles, a 3-car caravan of Austrians and Germans in raised and modified Land Cruisers (they plan to cross the Gobi Desert), several Russian-made cars and vans of Mongolians, and two groups of German hitchhikers looking for someone to take them across the border because there is a rule that everyone must cross the border in a car. The first group finds a willing car in front of us but the second would like to go with us. We don’t like the idea but feel sorry for them and agree to take them just across the border. Just in case they have something they shouldn’t in their backpacks we tell every official that we do not know them and that we are just taking them across the border. It turns out they are a couple of real clowns (yes, they even have juggling pins), and have mooched and juggled their way from Berlin all the way to here. They have almost no money so people have bought them train tickets, gave them food and money, and brought them all the way to here. To us this seems like they are taking advantage of peoples’ good will a little too much.

We are very lucky to have arrived at the border when we do because the border closes at 6:00 and we later hear (not sure if this is true or not) that the border would not re-open for the next 5 days because of the Naadam Festival in Mongolia (more on this later) and then the weekend.

We drive 20 km to the real border where there is one last Russian check, then after 5 km we come to the Mongolian border post. The post closes at 6:00 but they stay open longer to see us though, which only takes 40 minutes. As we stop at the Welcome to Mongolia sign (we think this is what it says) a boy races over to us on his bike to join me in the picture. It’s really cute and the first sign of Mongolian easy-going friendliness.

We drive to the first village, Tsagaanuur, where we realize how difficult it will be to navigate our way through Mongolia. In most of Western Mongolia there are no road signs and often no roads – just 4WD tracks that have been created by people going in a particular direction. And these tracks change when they get badly eroded, engulfed in a river, or people move their yurts and flocks.

There should be two highways leading out of Tsagaanuur. One highway should lead south to Olgii and another east to Ulaangom. But we can’t find either of the two “highways” leading out of this village! We drive round and round at the edge of town and can’t figure out where to go. There are dirt tracks going in various directions, but two small lakes, one large lake, a huge fenced-in area (maybe some sort of military landing strip?), some nearby hills and some farther-away mountains make picking the right direction and series of turns nearly impossible. All of the roads are just dirt tracks that have been driven into the steppe. To find our way we ask some guys hanging out and picnicking by their van, then a shepherd, and then a family at a ger (yurt) how can we get to Ulaangom. Each of them is happy to help but all we hear are a series of guttural grunts and an arm waved in a general direction. This place is really different from any other place I’ve ever visited!

It is getting dark so we better find a place to camp. The German clowns want to camp near the “highway intersection” to find someone to take them south toward Olgii the next day while we want to go east across the top of Mongolia towards Ulaangom. We say our good-byes and I use the directions given to us by the locals and do my best to choose the most likely eastward route, also using whatever information I can get from my two Mongolia maps and GPS. I drive about 5 miles and we set up camp for the night. Thankfully many of the tracks going in this direction converge as the valley we are in narrows a bit and we think we are going the right way.

Our camp is beautiful. We are all alone next to a beautiful lake (there is one ger on the opposite side of the lake) with smooth, beautifully illuminated mountains across the lake and higher mountains behind us. We’ve arrived in Mongolia!

Today, July 21st, would start out wonderfully but get harder and harder as some of the realities of Mongolia make themselves clear to us. The sun’s rays are quite intense here at 7500 feet and they quickly heat up the inside of the tent after sunrise so we get up early. We have some Russian corn flakes for breakfast and continue east on our gravel track. Soon it becomes clear that we’ve taken the right way as there is only one track going up the pass to the east. It’s a gentle pass taking us to about 8000 feet, then down through a beautiful valley. The weather is perfect, there are mountains on both sides of us, and a nice stream in the center of the valley with lush grass around it. We pass a few beautiful settlements of 3-7 gers where little kids run out to wave at us and animals graze. We see horses, yaks, goats, sheep, and some sheep with brown shaggy fur. The road is decent (we can comfortably go 15-25 mph) and gently descends to a dead-level plain surrounded by mountains at about 5000 feet. The photos below show a view of the valley and an example of a Mongolian ger. A whole family lives in this one-room house and they move it up to twice a year (e.g., spring/fall) when they move their flocks. Kirstin comes up with a possible slogan for Mongolia: Mongolia, camping all the time! It’s what we are doing and so are the locals.

When we first reach the dead-level plain we like being able to see mountains all around us and that the track allows us to exceed 30 mph in places (photo below). But we quickly change our minds and by the time we leave this plain 24 hours later we’ve nicknamed it the Valley of Death.

The first difficulty we encounter is that our track becomes increasingly rocky and our speed slows to about 10 mph. At the same time our track bifurcates into smaller tracks going in all different directions. Some directions are clearly not where we want to go but others do go in our general direction. It’s impossible to determine which one is right.

After a while we arrive in a large deserted town that is not on any of our maps. Later we figure that everyone leaves here in the summer because there is no vegetation in this plain and the mosquitoes are as bad any anywhere I’ve ever been (including Alaska, Northern Canada and Finland). The roads in the town are terrible and mostly filled with huge, deep, muddy puddles. There’s nobody to ask which way to Ulaangom and we worry we will get stuck in the muddy streets. The houses are so closely spaced that you can’t avoid driving through the puddles. After a while we see a boy outside a building and we try to ask him which way to go. He runs inside and returns with a man that has obviously been working on a messy plumbing job. We don’t share a common language but I show him on the map where we want to go. Unlike the people we asked in the last village, he hesitates and carefully looks at our car before answering. This registers in my mind but I can’t ask him to elaborate. I’m sure he had a good idea of what we would encounter. With his directions we find our way out of the eerie town and head north through the dead-flat plain.

As we travel north our road goes from bad to worse. The “road’ is now completely under brown water (maybe a foot in most places, significantly more in spots). We would be stuck in the greasy mud under the water in no time so we need to drive next to the road. But next to the road are mounds of hard grass with deep water-filled holes between them. We also notice the car is being followed by dozens of huge flies with big eyes and a spot of green on them. I can see them trying to sting the car with their sharp piercing mouthparts.

We get out of the car several times trying to find a way around the mounds but soon we go over two large tufts and the front wheels fall into deep holes. The skid plate under the engine is firmly resting on top of dirt and tough grass. The center of the car is also resting on a tuft of dirt and grass. Despite having 11” of ground clearance we’ve perched our 4Runner. Thankfully the rear wheels are on nearly dry mud and I can lock the transfer case so the rear wheels should be able to pull the car free. I put the car in reverse but the car is too firmly perched and all four wheels spin together, whether in drive or in reverse. The rear wheels don’t have enough weight on them to pull out the front of the car.

I have two tow straps but we haven’t seen another car since entering this plain. All we can do is try to dig ourselves out. I find a sturdy stick and along with a large Philips screwdriver we start digging. The huge flies buzz around us but are strangely more interested in biting the car than us. When they do occasionally bite us it is a very painful bite. More and more mosquitoes also arrive on the scene and go to work on us. For the next 3 ½ hours we dig and dig.

We clear the dirt and grass behind the right rear wheel, then the mounds supporting the front end of the car, I lower tire pressures to 7 psi in the rear and 15 psi in the front (more traction, but you risk pulling the tires off the rims), and I jump on the rear bumper while Kirstin tries to drive the car out. The car pivots into a different position but won’t come free. The left rear tire is so flat that the outside of the rim rests on the tire’s tread and the tire tread is pulled about 6” out to one side. But still the wheels spin. We need a huge truck to pull us out of this. We continue to dig, clearing more dirt in front of the car and around the right front wheel. Now we can move forth and back a few inches. In a new attempt with me jumping on the rear bumper we finally get ourselves out. We and the car are filthy and we are exhausted. It takes us an hour to clean up, put everything away and put air back in the tires with my small 12V pump.

This is just the beginning of what the Valley of Death would throw our way. We head further north and soon can start driving on our track again. But there is still nothing around us, just the occasional sheep skeleton or goat’s leg lying about. Our map shows that we must cross about 4 rivers in this plain. The first was in the area that we got stuck in. As we arrive at the second we see that this is a real river and wonder where the bridge is. There are side tracks from our road leading north and south along the river so we try these. The one to south leads to a crossing that is much worse with water absolutely everywhere and deeper crossings. There are also animal bones and goat legs all around. The one to the north has much deeper water and vertical side banks so we go back to our first crossing spot. After several walks through the river with a vicious swarm of mosquitoes buzzing around me I muster the courage to drive through and we make it across. The river’s toughest parts are two sections of 10” deep water, flowing rapidly, with firm, stony bottoms. Normally I’d be braver but with the nearest help (the deserted town) a day’s walk away, I don’t want to get the car stuck in a river.

In the next 4 miles there are about 5 water crossings and I get out of the car and into the mosquito swarm each time to scope out the crossing. Each time after re-entering the car Kirstin and I have to kill about a dozen mosquitoes that follow me into the car.

Then we arrive at the third river. It is clear that there is no way our car or any 4WD car could make it through here. I walk around for about 30 minutes hoping a way across can be found but it is clear there is no way across. The crux of this crossing would be two sections, each 10 meters wide, where the water is about 3 feet deep with very fast moving water. I don’t think one could even walk across without being swept away and having to swim.

I’m pretty bummed. This is the route I chose to cross Mongolia and it isn’t going to be possible. Yet this is the northern highway across Mongolia!! What the heck? We have heard that there was more rain than normal this summer and I suppose in years like this one of the only two east-west highways in western Mongolia can’t be crossed by car. I’m disappointed but there is clearly no option other than to turn back. We have three options: 1) go back and continue our trip through Russia, 2) go back and take the southern highway through Mongolia, or 3) go back to the border town, south to Olgii and Khovd, and then north along a secondary road to Ulaangom. In any case we need to turn back.

We go back through the 5 small water crossings and through the 10” deep river, getting out into the mosquito swarms to scope each crossing. It starts getting dark so we end up having to camp in this Valley of Death. We have peanut butter and jelly on some leftover bread and rice cakes while walking swiftly to stay away from the swarms of mosquitoes, then dive into our tent. The buggers coat the top of the tent and buzz around it. To our surprise a small bus pulls up along the tent and about 10 Mongolians pile out, each one taking their turn to look into out tent. I think they were just as surprised as we were to see other people here.

The mosquitoes are still there the next morning (July 22) so we pack up the tent and hit the road without breakfast. We make it through the spot where we got stuck, back to the deserted town and back up the valley. We have breakfast along the stream on some plush green grass. Near where we camped our first night we meet an Italian on a mountain bike that wants to ride across Mongolia. We tell him about the mosquitoes and the rivers and sincerely wish him good luck. Maybe with a bike he can make it across the big river. He would be the only tourist with their own transportation that we would see for the next 10 days.

Back at the border village we buy 20 liters of 76 pump-octane gasoline (our car requires at least 87) because this is all that is available in most towns in Western Mongolia and head south on the other “highway” towards Olgii. The car seems to deal with the low octane fuel ok (it makes up about 1/3 of the tank). I’m going to try heading south to Olgii, Khovd, then take a secondary road up to Ulaangom. I haven’t given up on my northern route through the mountains and lakes region of Mongolia. But what will this highway and then the secondary road look like? After we find the highway to Olgii I’m happy that it is reasonably good to drive on (20-30 mph). A couple of Russian-made jeeps pass me and I’m able to stay with one of them. It’s great following in the tracks of a local, experienced driver (my speed increases by about 50%).

The road becomes extremely steep as we cross an 8500 foot pass and I get to use the low range on the 4Runner (1st gear in the normal range is too tall), but the surface is reasonable and we get over it fine. A little before Olgii we are treated to our first stretch of pavement in Mongolia. It feels wonderful.

As soon as we enter Olgii it is clear that something really, really big is going on. It’s the Naadam Festival, an annual festival of the traditional Mongolian sports: wrestling, archery and horse racing. And here in the far western side of Mongolia, where most people are ethnic Kazakhs, Naadam is a huge celebration of Kazakh culture as well. There are Mongolians from all over western Mongolia here and quite a few tourists as well. We meet a French couple, a German couple and a young Danish girl that has been traveling mostly on her own since December. They have been using local transportation or hitchhiking to get around. We also meet a friendly local guy that helps us find a hotel and helps us buy tickets for the Kazakh Naadam concert tonight, which is a really big deal.

The concert is really, really cool. The concert hall is beautiful and the seats are great. We see three performers (see photos below). The first two perform a mix of traditional and modern Kazakh music and the third is a cheesy but still fun-to-watch pop singer. The second singer, Makpal, is a REAL performer and we hear she is the biggest Kazakh star anywhere. I can’t believe we were digging our car out of the mud yesterday, woke up to mosquitoes in the Valley of Death, and now are sitting here in a Mongolian concert hall!

After the concert we have dinner with the French, German and Danish tourists and exchange stories into the night. For dinner Kirstin and I share a chicken leg, rice, carrot bits, and a few fries. What a couple of days it’s been!

We hear that the next day (July 23rd) is the horse racing competition outside of town but we need to catch up with some things (money, laundry, gas, groceries, journals, etc.), so we stay in town in the morning. On the way out of town we buy gas (photo below), and then see a line of cars and trucks about 10 km long, returning from the horse race. Every vehicle is packed with people. Luckily we are going the opposite way so all we have to deal with is a lot of dust. We pass the place where the horse race was and there are tons and tons of spectators there. It’s really a huge event. After this we have the road to ourselves as we head south towards Khovd.

Russia Part I. – The Altai Region (July 15-20)

Preparing to visit Russia is a true lesson in bureaucracy! In order to be able to visit, you must first get a letter inviting you to visit Russia. Basically this involves you paying money to a tourist company and in return, they invite you to Russia. Then you can apply for your visa, however, in the U.S. you can no longer apply by mail. Instead you must have a company apply on your behalf. Of course there is a fee for this service, but unless you can visit the Russian Consulate in Washington, D.C. in person, you have no other choice. We ended up getting business visas since tourist visas are only valid for 30 days and our total time in Russia would be more than that. And as you guessed, business visas are more expensive than tourist visas.

Border sign for Russia

Sandwiched between our time in Kazakhstan and Mongolia, the Altai Region of Russia would be for us, our first taste of Siberia. We would re-enter Siberian Russia just south of Lake Baikal, but that would be weeks away and for now we were excited to soaking up Altai and its infamous beautiful scenery.

Our border crossing went off without any big problems. I was a bit nervous we may be asked for bribes by the officials, but they couldn’t have been nicer. We bought liability insurance at a gas station just past the border crossing for ~$50. It was a good thing that Stani had exchanged tenge into roubles while we were in Kazakhstan, because roubles were all they would accept.

In the first town we arrive in, Rubstovsk, we get pulled over by the traffic police. The police officer asks for our car documents, looks them over, and sends us on our way. No problems. We end up pulling off the road as the sun is setting and set up camp in a mosquito infested field belonging to a nearby farm. Because the mosquitoes are so bad, we eat dinner wearing mosquito head nets and walking around - not a very cozy dinner, but we survive.

 

Typical mode of transportation in Siberia

The next day we drive to Biysk. It’s raining pretty hard and we drive around looking for a hotel. We end up staying at Hotel Tsentralnaya, a comfortable and well-kept place that advertises it has wi-fi, but really doesn’t. Instead they direct us to a cool café nearby where we discover a truly incredible cappuccino. They are really works of art! The food here is really good too. We end up visiting this café many times during our two day stay in Biysk.

My perfect cappuccino

I really like Biysk. The older part of town is pretty run down, but it still has character. We visit an Altai history museum, a beautiful reconstructed Orthodox church and notice all the wooden houses around which are so typical of Siberia.

Siberian Wood House

Inside of Russian Orthodox church

We continue on to the Altai Republic towards the capital, Gorno-Altaisk. The region of Altai actually consists of two parts, the Altai Territory and the more picturesque Altai Republic. We stay at Hotel Ostrov Yuzhny, a house-hotel in the small town of Mayma, near Gorno-Altaisk, where we have a gigantic house including a kitchen all to ourselves, or so we think, about 8 people arrive around 4:00 am and take the remaining rooms. The Altai Republic is a popular vacation spot for Russians, but we didn’t know just how popular it was. The entire drive to Mayma, we are met by continuous streams of traffic coming the other way. Good thing they’re leaving when we are arriving! We later found out that there had been a festival of Altai culture just before we arrived, so there was even more traffic than usual.

Jars of honey being sold by the road

Lots of traffic in the Altai Republic

Beautiful wooden church in Gorno-Altaisk

Visiting the Altai Republic is definitely worth it, but there is the extra hassle of needing to register your visa specifically in the Altai Republic (this is on top of the regular registration that you must have done every three days with OVIR). We did this in Gorno-Altaisk thanks to the help of the friendly staff, Lioubov and Anastasia, at a tourist agency called AGUNA. In addition to the special visa registration, I had read in Lonely Planet that you also need a border permit to drive past the town of Kosh-Agach to the Mongolian border, which we would be doing. They said you need to apply with the FSB (formerly KGB) at least 10 days prior to your visit and that this should be done through a travel agency since the process was very complicated. However, numerous blogs of people who travelled this route said this procedure was no longer necessary. After our Kazakhstan registration episode, we wanted to be sure what was in fact the truth. Lioubov, the owner of AGUNA tourist agency assured us that a permit was not needed if we stick to the main road, M-52. With documents in hand, we begin the beautiful drive south towards the Mongolian border. Just past Mayma, we stop briefly at a suspension bridge near the town of Aya. It looks so rickety, but vehicles are lined up waiting their turn to cross. This is a popular town for vacationers, especially those looking to go rafting on the Katun River rapids. Just south of Ust-Sema, we start driving on the famous 400 km road called Chuysky Trakt or M-52 to the border. It’s a lovely winding road with forests, cliffs, a few mountain passes and rivers all around. After driving in steppe for so long in Kazakhstan and desert in Turkmenistan, this landscape seems like heaven! We drive all day and as evening approaches, find a campground, but they want $10. Even though this isn’t a lot of money, we opt instead to camp on our own and find an idyllic spot right next to the fast moving river. The ground is grassy and soft and the trees and river make it perfect. I’m so happy! Plus it’s free!

Cows on the road – a typical site

Chuysky Trakt

Rapid river campsite

The next day we continue of drive on M-52 to the border. After about 25 km, we stop briefly in the tiny village of Inya and see what Lonely Planet calls, “one of the most dramatically placed and memorable Lenin statues in Russia”. A few km further, we find a well-preserved stone idol near the town of Iodra. Altai is famous for its standing stone idols which were used as grave markers.

Lenin statue

Altai Stone Idol

As we continue towards the border, the landscape turns more rugged, but still beautiful. We have a picnic lunch at a spot that Stani calls “The perfect Toyota commercial site” because of the beautiful and expansive scenery all around us.

Our picnic lunch spot

Soon we see signs on the side of the road indicating that we are entering a border controlled zone and that permits are necessary. Thankfully there are no problems and we arrive at the border.

How Far We’ve Come as of July 15

We’ve covered a lot of ground since we started our trip on May 5th. We’ve driven 13,000 miles and crossed 12 countries: Great Britain, France, Germany, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Iran, Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan. Our route so far is drawn below.

Crossing the Big Country of Kazakhstan (July 4-July 15)

It took us a total of 2.5 hours to cross both the Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan sides of the border. On the Kazakh side we needed to go through immigration and get migration cards, go through customs and get a temporary vehicle obligation and get vehicle liability insurance (we already had comprehensive and collision insurance). There were only three vehicles crossing the border at the same time as us and the border officials were very friendly. One even walked Stani around to all the different buildings and helped with translation. One of the bureaucratic steps left over from Soviet times is the necessity of registering your visa with a migration office (OVIR), but I had read that it was no longer necessary in Kazakhstan to go to an office since registration takes place when your visa is issued. The process was unclear in Lonely Planet, at one point they say it’s not necessary and another they say you need two stamps on your migration card to show you are registered. When we received our migration cards, the immigration officer stamped it once with a red stamp showing our entry date and also stamped our passports. I asked about a second stamp but he said “Not necessary.” We then continued onto the next stop, customs. I asked the customs official about a second stamp and he said “Not necessary.” If it had just been one official, I would have still been skeptical, but since two different guys told me it wasn’t necessary, I felt that this must be true (more on this later). I asked about insurance and a different official said, “This is just steppe” indicating that insurance would be a waste of money, but he said we could buy it in a large city if we wanted. The officials all wished us well, and we were on our way.

How exciting to be on our own again! The excitement wore off a bit when we realized our attention instead needed to be on the roads. They were terrible! The only positive thing was that unlike the last stretch of driving in Turkmenistan where you didn’t know which track to take, here there was a clear way, it was just a mess. People had made little side tracks to avoid the bad main road, and we ended up driving on these. Unfortunately the side tracks were really dusty and not so good for the car for extended periods of time. We drove for about 2 hours and then pulled off the road and set up camp in the desert

Typical road in western Kazakhstan

Our first campsite in the steppe of Kazakhstan

The next 2 days were pretty much just driving days on really horrible roads-gravel with lots of washboards. Our average speed was about 10 mph. It’s one thing if you’re driving short distances on these roads, but a totally different thing if you are driving on these all day and knowing that your car still has almost 2 more months to go and many more km to drive. There wasn’t much to look at scenery wise. It was like the official said, just steppe. The things we did see a lot of were necropolises (cemeteries), horses, camels (now with two humps instead of the one hump version we had seen in Turkmenistan) and oil rigs. We had a bit of a scare on July 5th thinking we may run out of gas. There had been gas stations fairly regularly up to Shetpe, but after leaving town, this changed and there were none for 128 km. We reached a small town named Sayotesh and thought there must be a gas station here, but all we could find was an old pump with 80 RON octane gasoline. We still had 187 km to go on presumably more bad roads and only a quarter tank of gas left. So, we filled up at the old pump, hoping the car would accept it ok. Thankfully it did!

Stani filling up with 80 RON octane gasoline

A necropolis

Wild horses

Our original plan was to head northeast from Dossor to Aqtobe, but we learn from several people that the road is very bad, so instead we head west about 100 km to the big city of Atyrau. What a nice oasis from all the steppe. Since we’re in a big city, we decide to try to find liability insurance. Thanks to a helpful hotel receptionist, we manage to find it at BTA Bank for 501 Tenge or $3!

Stani with our insurance agents and our policy

We walked around town soaking up all the different sites. The Ural River runs through the city separating the European side of the city from the Asian side. How cool! We even found a little taste of home, a TGI Friday’s Restaurant thanks to all the international businesspeople coming here for the oil. My chicken fingers were a little more orange than I remember them being in the U.S., but hey I’m not complaining.

This was a surprise-TGI Friday’s

In the morning of July 8th we meet a British motorcyclist named Graham who is riding his bike to Vladivostok. We chat for awhile exchanging travel stories - he’s a lot of fun to talk with. From Aytrau, he’s heading south to Almaty and we’re going north to Uralsk then west towards Aqtobe and Astana, so we exchange cell phone numbers and say maybe we’ll meet up again at some point. The roads are great-what a pleasant change! All around us are fields of wheat. This was from the 1954 Virgin Lands Campaign where Khrushchev decided to expand the land that could grow things by irrigating the steppes and deserts of Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. According to Lonely Planet, “Only under glasnost (openness) did the downside of this campaign become clear - degraded and over-fertilized local rivers and lands. By some measures, the problems of erosion, aridity and salinity are on a larger scale than those of the Aral Sea. One UN report estimates that the country has lost 1.2 billion tons of topsoil.”

Wheat fields

The next two days, are long driving days. The roads switch between good and bad. On the 9th, we camp very close to the Russian border. So close that we can actually see the lights of Russian factories from our tent. In a few more days, we’ll enter that big country - the biggest country in the world in terms of area. On the 10th, we stop for lunch at one of the designated picnic spots. It’s funny to me that the sign for these always has a picnic table and a pine tree-so far these spots have had neither. The sign makes these spots look so cozy, but in reality they are just a concrete parking lot usually with a ramp which you can drive up so you can examine the underside of your vehicle. Stani decides to drive up of one and noticed that the bushings for the front sway bar were torn pretty bad on the left and just starting on the right. With our long journey ahead, including the off-road tracks we would see in Mongolia, he said this was something we need to get repaired. We drive into the town of Rudny and find a Toyota dealership. Unfortunately it is Saturday and the service station is already closed but several employees are still there. The manager is really nice and speaks excellent English (he had lived in the U.S. for a few years). He gives us the name of the part written in Russian and the address and phone number for a Toyota dealership in Astana which is our next destination.


The next evening we reach Astana, the capital of Kazakhstan. Actually the president moved the capital from Almaty (in the southeast) to Astana in 1997 citing it was closer to Russia. Before this move, Astana was a medium size provincial city, but since the move, the city has been transformed into a modern international capital. We had heard that Astana’s new architecture was over the top, and I had visions of another Ashgabat, but I thought the city was really nice. There were interesting buildings, parks, lots of flowers beds and tasteful fountains. We end up staying in Astana 2 nights at a nice hotel with wi-fi (unfortunately our blog was blocked. Apparently the government has blocked Blogger because this is the main website the government’s opposition used to express their dissatisfactions).

In the morning of July 12, we drive to the Toyota dealership hoping that they would have the bushings we need. A young guy who speaks English helps us. It turns out this is his second day on the job! He tells us they can do the repair, change our air filter and change the oil all in one hour. We can’t believe it and are so relieved. Well it turns out that one hour turned into six hours (I think they had to have the bushings delivered from somewhere else), but in the end we are thrilled to have our car in good shape again.

Stani, the friendly Toyota serviceman and the torn bushings

Before we left the hotel for the Toyota dealership, I left my jeans with the receptionist to be washed. Little did I know that it would be such a challenge to get them back! That evening I asked the night shift receptionist if my jeans were washed. She didn’t speak much English, and I speak less Kazakh and Russian, so this simple act became a huge communication challenge. I tried to explain that I GAVE my jeans to the hotel in the morning and now I would like her to GIVE me the jeans back. She smiled and said “You give me jeans?” We even went up to our hotel room, I thinking maybe they had put the newly washed jeans in our room and she thinking I would give her my jeans. I gave up and concluded that maybe they hadn’t finished washing my jeans. The next day, the day we were planning to leave Astana, I again tried to get back my jeans from the receptionist. I again tried to explain that I GAVE my jeans to the hotel yesterday morning and I would like her to GIVE me my jeans back. She smiled politely and said, “You give me jeans?” Argh!!!! I was ready to pull my hair out and really started to wonder if I would ever see my jeans again. I really liked those jeans, and plus my clothing selection was sparce to begin with! There was a nice young woman who worked in the hotel café where we ate breakfast who spoke some English (the most of any staff at the hotel), so I decided maybe she could help me with my cause. I explained the story to here in front of the receptionist. She nodded and I was finally relieved that she could understand me. Maybe there was hope for a reunion after all! After a brief pause, she said with a smile, “You give me jeans?” Oh my goodness, here we go again. I was almost in tears. Several hours later, the receptionist who I had given my jeans to showed up and miraculously so did my jeans.

The reunion

We decide to leave Astana on the 13th, but first walk around to get a flavor of the city. We walk along the river to the newer section of Astana. We stop at a new shopping mall called Khan Shatyr , which is a big leaning tent-like structure made out of heat absorbing materials that will produce summer temperatures inside when it is -30C outside. The stores and other attractions (including a wave pool and sand volleyball) are still being worked on, but it’s pretty impressive. We walk towards the Bayterek monument and come across an art exhibit in the park just below the monument. It’s an international travelling exhibit called “Buddy Bears”. An artist from every UN country paints a life-size bear that somehow represents their country. The message of this exhibit is the importance of countries of world working together and getting along. We then continue to the Bayterek monument, a 97m tower crowned with a golden ball and take an elevator to the top. The views of Astana from inside the golden ball are superb.

The Bayterek monument in the distance

View of Astana from top of Bayterek monument

From Astana we drive ~400 km to Pavlodar, which we reach on the 14th. The main attraction here is the mosque, built in 2001 - it’s the biggest mosque in Kazakhstan. Lonely Planet says it looks like an intergalactic space station from the 1950’s sci-fi films with a green dome shaped like Darth Vader’s helmet. What do you think?

Mosque in Pavlador

We continue on to our last city in Kazakhstan, Semey. I can hardly believe we have made it across this enormous country. We check into Hotel Semey, our first real old-fashioned Soviet style hotel. It’s clean and we’re in good spirits. The feeling of contentment quickly vanishes when we receive a text from the British motorcyclist, Graham, whom we had met in Aytrau. His text his short, but the message is clear. He had been pulled over by the police for a routine traffic stop. When they checked his paperwork and saw that he only had one stamp on his migration card, he was suddenly in a lot of trouble. He said he spent the next two days in Astana working with the British Embassy trying to sort things out. In the end, they were able to help him get registered and receive a second green stamp on his migration card, but he had to dish out ~$100. What a major headache. He knew we only had one stamp because I had asked him if he had one or two stamps on his migration card when we chatted in Aytrau. Here we were ready to drive to the Kazakhstan/Russian border in the morning and now we had a major problem on our hands. We asked the hotel receptionist if they could register us but they said we needed to go to the police station and try to register ourselves. Nervously we walked to the police. The registration office was already closed but we could come back in the morning.


The next morning, we decide to first visit the nuclear memorial which was built in 2002 for the victims of the nuclear tests. Between 1949 and 1989, the Soviet military exploded around 460 nuclear bombs in a research center called Polygon which is west of Semey. There was an unprecedented wave of popular protest against the testing in 1989, which resulted in the closure of Polygon. Tragically the effects of the radiation (genetic mutations, cancers, weakened immune systems and mental illness) still linger.

Nuclear memorial to victims

After visiting this moving memorial, we walk to the police station. The door to the registration office is closed, even though the hours indicate it should be open. We manage to finally find an officer who speaks English and it turns out he works in the registration office. We tell him that we would like to try to register our visas and explain what happened at the border. He takes our passports and migration cards and begins filling forms. He explains that he will be able to register our visas for us, but then hands us forms that look a lot to me like they could be a police report. He wants us to sign the forms in several places even though nothing has been written into the form. Stani gets the good idea to call the US Consulate in Astana. A staff person is able to help with translation and tells us that these are in fact police reports, but that the officer is simply using these to give us a warning. We will not have to pay a fine or have any trouble this time, but if we come into Kazakhstan again and don’t register, then we will have a lot of trouble. He advises us to sign the forms which we do. We are then handed our passports and migration cards, now with the two stamps (a red one and now a green one). We breathe a huge sigh of relief. Thanks Graham for the warning!


Now we are able to continue the last 113 km to the border. The crossing goes smoothly, and we prepare to enter the 13th out of 14 countries for this trip.