Mongolian Madwoman

Here’s the details of our encounter on the river 100km north of Ulan Bator…

We left the city late on Tuesday, heading north and pretty sure we’d seen UB for the last time. Alan’s not one to pass a river/dam/lake in the afternoon without checking it out for a campsite, so down the track we bumped, past a yer and stockyard, past some picnickers, along the dam wall.

What do we find, but four burly guys, an old guy with a 50 year old jeep, a little boy and a very bogged, shiny new Prado. Alan had to help! (He and Barry now have a lot of experience towing Mongolians out of trouble.)

After two attempts, the first of which resulted in the Cruiser being slightly bogged (burly boys pushed it out) and the second nearly rolling the Cruiser, Barry and Donna and the Ford Ranger came along.

Voila, unstuck Prado and four very happy burly boys!

Down to a nice open campsite beside the creek and while we were setting up, along barrels a very excited lady, tumbling over in the creek in her hurry to get to us. Big bear hugs, high fives and thumbs up, so we naturally assumed she was the mother of at least one of the burly boys… (Was that the distinctive air of many vodkas about her?) No, she was just over the moon that we’d rescued her boys…

After salty milk tea and many more bear hugs, high fives and thumbs up, we realized she’d settled in for the night. Barry and Donna had sussed out her game and disappeared, so I decided Al and I would walk her home. It was a bit hard to convince her to come and she playfully tried to push us in the river (maybe she had no idea Al has hearing aids). She put on Al’s thongs, hooked her arm in mine and chatted away as we wandered up the track.

The penny started to drop – not the mother of any of the burly boys, not sober and definitely not sane!

We shook hands, manhandled the thongs back from her, pointed her towards the nearby village, waved and walked away, veering up a steep hill to get rid of her. By the time we got back to camp, who’d settled herself in on the chair beside Barry?

Al and I barrelled in with all guns blazing. Donna was in the middle of cooking dinner. “We’ve got to move, she’s mad!” Quick decamp, Barry shoving her out of the chair and pushing her across the paddock, a debrief as Barry wasn’t happy about us barging in shouting orders and by the time we left, the madwoman was snoring on the riverbank.

It was a very quiet night by the dam, with a lovely herd of calves coming to scratch their chins on our doors and bullbars as we had breakfast next morning. Madwoman didn’t have the puff in her to make it two km to our new camp!

I had the opposite experience further west two days later at Erdenet, as I waited for Alan outside a bank. A lovely gentleman came to say hello, shake my hand and sit beside me. He started to write, showed me his name and I told him mine, then he showed me his address and phone number, shook my hand again and waved goodbye. He wore the beautiful traditional Mongolian coat and a fedora. When I had the message translated, it said “God bless. A safe journey to Portugal, regards, Nyamdorj”. This is Mongolia!