Mongolia > Traditional wrestling

Mongolia - The valleys in Mongolia seem endless

Milko arrived last night at half past one. His motorcycle was transported in a Toyota Land Cruiser. By folding down the back seat, the frame just about fit inside. The front and rear wheels had been removed. In the parking lot, the bike was lifted out of the car. The front wheel had to be mounted immediately, otherwise the bike couldn’t stand on its kickstand. While the wheel was being put back on, the power went out across all of Altai. With the help of a flashlight, the job was finished. The next morning, it was another early start. The road to Bayankhongor was slightly shorter than yesterday’s, but just as bad. Milko decided to ride along with us, even though he dreaded the unpaved road. But first, he had to reassemble his motorcycle. It was raining. It had also poured heavily during the night. This meant that the sandy roads had turned muddy. Mounting the wheel and doing a few small repairs took a bit longer. A blessing in disguise: the supermarket didn’t open until ten. This gave us the chance to buy something for breakfast, lunch, and possibly dinner. We weren’t sure if we would even reach Bayankhongor that evening. At a quarter to eleven we set off. The first stretch was asphalt again. Nice. After just over a hundred kilometers, the asphalt ended—just like the previous two days. Driving became harder right away. Puddles were everywhere. With Brutus we drove through them effortlessly, muddy water splashing high up both sides of the car. Luckily, it had dried up again. We found a spot for a coffee break. Chairs were unfolded and in the back of Brutus the coffee machine was bubbling away. Passing drivers laughed at the sight. Around three o’clock we drove into the little town of Baatsagaan, about halfway along today’s route. Just outside the village something was going on. A crowd of people had gathered. We drove over. A traditional Mongolian wrestling match was being held in honor of the Naadam festival.

Mongolia - During the Nadeem Festival wrestling takes place according to Mongolian tradition

Everyone from the village was dressed in traditional clothing—long robes with a sash. Boys on horseback wrestled with each other. I didn’t see any other tourists in the audience. Everyone seemed to be looking at us. In a ger tent, sambas were being fried. Delicious! The wrestling itself took place in the central arena. Sturdy, scantily clad men tried to throw their opponents to the ground, all done with much flourish. It was great to experience this local festival. At half past four we left again. There were still 175 kilometers to Bayankhongor. With the road conditions, at least another five hours of driving. Just as we were about to leave, a car stopped next to us. A Dutchman. Aart. He had spotted a Dutch license plate. He lives and works in Ulaanbaatar and was touring the country during the Naadam festival. Unfortunately, as we approached Bayankhongor the road did not improve. We bounced around, the wheels even leaving the ground several times. Time and again we followed tracks hundreds of meters away from the main road. All tracks must eventually lead to Bayankhongor, but because of the side paths we had no idea whether the motorcyclists were ahead or behind us. The phones had no reception. So we didn’t even know if they would make it before dark. Around ten o’clock in the evening we saw Bayankhongor in the distance. The first hotel looked dark. “No rooms,” a boy indicated. Probably closed. The second hotel was also shut. A note was posted, but the only thing we could make out were the dates of the Naadam festival. The third hotel was also completely dark. Thankfully, lights were on in the fourth and last hotel in town. The receptionist looked up from her small television set—she was watching the wrestling in Ulaanbaatar. Apparently everyone follows it live during the festival. She had to pause her program to show us the room. The room was very basic, but better than nothing. There were no restaurants open anymore. With hot water we prepared an instant noodle soup we had brought along in case we needed to camp.

Mongolia - A Buddhist ovoo stands at the highest point Everyone must walk three times around it

More worrying was that the motorcyclists still hadn’t arrived. So they weren’t ahead of us after all. By now it was completely dark. Where could they be? We assumed they had set up their tent. Through an SMS to the Netherlands we learned that their GPS tracker still showed movement. They were still riding. By now it was midnight. We drove the Land Rover out to meet the motorcyclists. With all our lights on we headed back into the mountains. After about ten kilometers we saw two lights approaching from the opposite direction. It was them. We were relieved to see them again. On the rough and muddy roads they had both slipped several times. We quickly drove back together to the hotel.