The Long Way Down, Up and Around: Mongolia, Homeward Bound

Heading back was a little bittersweet. I was looking forward to getting back on the grid, getting in touch with family and friends again, but it also meant that the last, and in some way most adventurous, part of my trip was soon going to be over. There's a peace and majesty to that part of the world that's really special.

The ride back wasn't without its little adventures though. There had been heavy rains just to the East of where we were, and parts of the countryside had experienced flash floods. The electricity was down in Tsetserleg, which would be a bummer, but more importantly, a lot of the rivers were fuller than they'd been all summer. We had a crossed a few rivers on our way West, and we weren't sure if we'd be able to cross them as easily on the way back.

Our driver was pensive on our first attempt. He drove up to the edge of the water. He walked upstream. He walked downstream. He tossed a few rocks into the water to test the depth. He smoked a couple of cigarettes.

He seemed nervous. When a Mongolian is nervous about something, that's a sign it must be really bad.

A Land Cruiser drove up behind us, took a look at the size of the river ahead of it, and decided against it. They turned around.

So now it was just us. There were a half dozen Jeeps on the far, far side of the river. Presumably everyone was waiting for someone else to go first.

Our guy was the first to try.

He turned on four wheel drive. He told us to open our windows. Then he dipped into the water, slowly, in first gear. The water kept rising, until it was just barely under our door. Another inch and we'd start getting water in the main cabin.

He kept pushing on.

We almost made it. We made it as far the far bank of one of many islands - the river was braided through and through - before we realized the channel had cut a steep bank we wouldn't be able to climb. It was time to retreat. Except, nothing happened when we reversed.

We were stuck in the middle of the river.

No worries, our guy fought with it, and fought with it. He seemed to be making progress, until he flooded the engine.

Now he got really nervous. I was getting really nervous. Out come the Mongolian ingenuity.

First, the engine to these Russian jeeps was mounted between the driver and the passenger. This distributed the center of gravity more evenly, and more importantly, it meant you could basically work on the engine from the drivers seat. Off came the cover.

He disengaged the belt to the fan. The fan was splashing a lot of water around, which was getting inducted into the engine. Ok, done.

Then, he tried to start the engine again. It was completely dead. He tried two or three more times. Nothing.

At that point I started to play forward our options for getting home that day. In theory, we could abandon the jeep, haul our stuff to the other side of the river - it didn't seem that deep after all - and then catch a ride with one of the Land Cruisers on the other side. Or we could call for backup and have someone from the White Lake come by with a rope to haul us out. We'd get wet, but we were still somehow touching the network of assistance courtesy of mobile phones and civilization.

Somehow, incredibly, on the fifth - or was it sixth - try, the engine started, before the battery died. Somehow, incredibly, with enough pushing and pulling and four wheel magic he pulled us back to safety. With a little more work he put the belt back on and we were good to go.

And now here's the kicker - there was a new bridge built just downriver! It added an hour to our trip but it was there. Why the risk? Who knows.

But before we were home we had another mishap - this time a different belt had broken, which set us back another hour. We were operating on Mongolian time. We barely noticed.

Mongolian drivers are in a league of their own though - huge points for sheer ingenuity. I guess drivers in these end-of-the-world kind of places all need to double as mechanics. He reminded me of our Bolivian driver who fixed a flat in about five minutes. It's funny - I have all these motorcycle tools back home, but I have no idea how to use them. This guy could take apart a full engine and put it back together with a screwdriver and his bare hands.

And so, we made it back to Tsetserleg back in one piece. There was no electricity there - the rains had washed away the electrical lines from UB, and no one knew when it would be back on again, maybe this week, maybe next, but then again, no one had anything urgent that really required electricity either. Maybe it was refreshing? A sign to take things a little more slowly in life.

Our bus ride next morning was long but uneventful. We didn't get stuck in the mud, and there were no rivers to cross. Back to the relative safety of civilization - sweet but sad at the same time.