Horse Milk Wine

Our group spent July 3rd through July 8th at a ger camp called "Old Bridge" along the Egiin Gol (Eg. River) in the northern region of the country, about an hour drive from the nearest town, a small village called Hutag-Onder. We departed Ulaan Baatar the evening of July 2nd on an overnight train on the Trans-Mongolian Railroad. On the rainy morning of the 3rd, Chimbat, our host at Old Bridge, met us at the station in Erdenet with two vans which would carry us the rest of the way to camp.

Erdenet is the urban hub of northern Mongolia and is home to one of the ten largest copper mines in the world. Mineral resources are the main source of wealth for Mongolia and the copper mine in Erdenet uses a total of 50% of the electricity in the entire country. The city was once controlled by the Soviets (because of the wealth from the mine), but eventually, the Russians left Erdenet. When they left, they forgot to teach the Mongolians how to operate the mine (the local Mongolians only worked in the mine as general laborers), so today some Russians remain as consultants for mine operations.

Like most mining towns, Erdenet has a mood of grit and poverty. Decaying Soviet-era tenements huddle together in the center of town intermixed with piles of rubble, shabby internet cafes and brightly painted bus stops. In the distance, one can see neighborhoods of wooden shacks with corrugated metal roofs. Bilingual graffiti is everywhere, as are shops selling American-style HipHop clothing.

We ate breakfast in a dim Chinese restaurant, then got on the road for our 230 km drive to camp. Most of the roads in Mongolia are unpaved and exist as little more than glorified animal trails. The farther away from Ulaan Baatar one gets, the rougher the trails. Consequently, our trek to our camp in the north country near the Egiin Gol (or Eg. River) was long and bumpy - only the first 60 km of our journey were on a paved road.

As we drove along, we passed a great number of herders migrating to their summer pastures. All of their belongings were packed on the back of horses, camels or yaks and they usually traveled with large herds of animals such as sheep, goats, camels, horses, cattle or yaks.

After driving across muddy dirt roads for about 10 hours, we finally arrived at Old Bridge Camp and we settled into our gers.

The next morning, we went for a hike up a nearby mountain to look at the beautiful scenery, then headed into the valley to the camp of local horse farmers. Chimbat, who is very devoted to the community in the valley of the Egiin Gol, had arranged with them to host a special horse race in our honor. In this race, yearling horses were removed from the corral - and their mothers - and moved to the other side of the field. They are then released - riderless - and they race back to their mothers in the corral. Spectators can 'bet' on which horse they think will win by writing their names on strips of cloth then tying them to the tails of their horses of choice. My horse didn't win.

Throughout the week, we enjoyed a considerably more authentic Mongolian experience than in any of the other places that we'd visited. Chimbat arranged for us to eat a traditionally prepared meal of goat meat cooked for two or three hours with vegetables over hot stones and also for us to drive into Hutag-Onder to watch the village's Little Nadaam Festival, at which we got to see the wrestling and horse-racing events much much closer than we will be at UB's big Nadaam. We also visited a nomadic family and ate horse meat, home-made goat cheese and flatbread with fresh butter cream, and drink hot goat milk, horse milk wine and Mongolian vodka - all of which was really gross, by the way. I was surprised to see that both of the gers we visited had TV sets inside which were powered by solar panels set up outside.

No trip to Mongolia would be complete without horseback riding, so on the last day, we mounted our squat Mongolian steeds and rode across the countryside. My horse refused to respond to my commands and the young local men who accompanied us got a kick out of making fun of me to each other in Mongolian and slapping my horse in the butt when I wasn't looking so that it would bolt unexpectedly.

At the end of the week, we were sad to leave Chimbat and what we called the "cast and crew" of Old Bridge Camp - with whom we played A LOT of volleyball in our downtime. Our journey home was just as bumpy and long as the trek out, but we arrived safely back in Ulaan Baatar on the morning of July 9th.