Between Ölgii and the Tavan Bogd, we had to spend the night under the stars. Looking for a good spot to put your tent is not really an issue. The driver simply stopped driv-ing—no need to get off the road, as there is none. Words, Photos and Captions Mirte van Dijk T he afternoon sun warms a half-dozen yaks and horses as they peacefully gaze in green pastures that stretch to the horizon. It’s nearing dark, which is a precise mea-surement in Mongolian Altai time. The people here don’t use clocks, but rather live by the cycles of the sun. for our four Mongolian friends, this is a journey to the unknown. Tem-peratures in the Tavan Bogd usually sit somewhere around zero degrees Fahrenheit, and snow-sliding is a rare occurrence in these parts. Con-sidering it takes four days of travel to reach the region from Europe, not many of its peaks have ever seen a snowboard. But a few Mongolian snow enthusiasts are ensuring that the development of a little ski resort in Ulaanbaatar, the Sky Resort, is a viable endeavor. Almost half the total population of Mongolia lives in Ulaanbaatar, and that number has grown since the most severe winter in recent his-tory. The dzud of seven years ago—a summer drought followed by an unusually cold winter—froze the country and killed most of the live-stock Mongolians depend upon for subsistence. It sent farmers to the city, which modernized Mongol culture to a certain extent. In Ulaan-baatar, something like snowboarding, a pastime that doesn’t require bold survival skills, is a welcome diversion. It has crept in from border countries China and Russia, and offers a new pursuit for those who are ready to widen their horizons. With the help of the herders, our van is fixed just before nightfall. We set up camp in the massive empty fields. Millions of stars rise above our tents in the frozen skies of early June. We sit on the gravel roadside next to a couple Russian Furgon vans— boxy, off-road machines that resemble jacked-up loaves of bread. The flat tire didn’t come as a surprise given the sorry state of the roads. The transmission failure wasn’t wholly unexpected either. It’s common for vehicles to run into trouble this far from civilization. A few men on horseback approach to check on their herd. They stop at our little convoy. Curious bright eyes peek out from under their leather hats. Once again, we are thankful we didn’t start this adven-ture in complete solitude. “Sain uu!” says Woogie, while taking off his brand-new polarized sunglasses. Under his traditional deel —a Mongo-lian robe similar to a European tunic—he shifts from city to country. I almost forget that Woogie, born as Battulga Gantulga, is the founder of the Mongolian Professional Snowboard Federation. He’s the reason we are en route to the highest mountain district of Mongolia, the Altai Tavan Bogd National Park. Although Mongolia is the 18 th largest country in the world, it is only home to a population of three million people. And we’re traveling to perhaps the most remote region of this landlocked territory. Traveling with me are Dutch riders and snowboard guides Stephan Verheij and Rens de Wild, along with French rider and filmer Sébastien Jam. Even 064 THE SNOWBOARDER’S JOURNAL
The Snowboarder's Journal frequency 15.4: Page 64
