by Lonnie Briggs, University of Vermont (written depicting the events from 10/17/19 – 10/23/19)
The end is near, and denial is in full effect. On our group calendar of events coming up, “not” is written directly above “Leaving.” The 16th was the day we completed our final discussion for our classes, so the 17th felt like the transition period from gathering data and class work to finalizing data. Along with completing the readings, discussions, and lectures that came with the class work, our period of field work has ended, foreshadowing cabin fever in the form of our ger. When 8 college students have lived in close quarters for the past 2 and a half months and are now confined to an area with a radius of 5 meters (the ger) for extended hours for consecutive days, the result apparently is incredible goofiness bordering slight hysteria (it’s fun though).
The contagious goof takes various forms such as attaching fake eyelashes with our cook, Amka; meticulously taste testing the white and brown sections of Nutella wanna-bes (“Gold M” and “Nusco”); and falling into a giggling trap late at night (9:30 P.M.) when we for some reason started replacing the first sound of fruits with ‘Q’. I believe the funniest modified fruit was “qune,” modified from prune. Popular activities for me to break up tasks of data review and proofing include frisbee and splitting wood, furthering my skills in each of these activities. According to the others, the rate at which I split wood reflects the number of divorces I have been going through, although this is unknown to me. Right before we were nearing group implosion via our contagion of goofiness, we were rescued by the announcement of a second trip to visit Battogtokh at the steppe, who is now at his fall camp.
Driving to Battogtokh’s, I was in the first of the two furagons. After we crossed a small creek, I looked back to check on the other furagon only to see it spinning rubber in the creek. Memories of a particular night rush back to me as I recall the excitement of one furagon pulling the other out of an icy stream. Luckily the furagon only needed to gather momentum and we were on our way again as if nothing had ever happened. Arriving at Battogtokh’s was like arriving at an old friend’s house: warm and happy greetings in a state of familiarity. Without a solidified plan for that day, the group split up, half going to investigate the ruins of the old Tibetan monastery, destroyed in the 1930s, deer stones, and bronze age burial grounds, while the other half (including myself) went to look for waterfowl on the nearby lakes. About a month ago, the lake we were now looking at was ravenous with waterfowl, but this day, the lake just as blankly stared back at us as we did to it. Instead of scoping out a vacant lake, we drove up the valley to explore, and it was not long before we were racing up a ridge toward a cave. Inside the cave we found small bones, possibly from a pika. After staring out of the cave at the vast steppe floor below, we summited the ridge lying above us and greeted our good friends, the ravens, with the traditional “sain bain yy?” (“how are you” in Mongolian).
On the way back to camp, we investigated the site of the old monastery, burials, and Deer Stones. The Deer Stones and burial mounds were in use about 4,000 years ago and have been looted several times since then. Due to destruction during the Socialist Revolution, all that remains of the monastery are faint lines defining what was once the structure.
One of the main motivations for visiting Battogtokh was to visit the Dukha, or reindeer herders, who were still at their fall camp nearby, and the next day we traveled up the valley to their camp. The family that we visited welcomed us into their home, shared fresh, homemade bread and reindeer milk tea and answered our curiosities about herding reindeer. They had around sixty reindeer, which rely on large quantities of moss and lichen for sustenance, usually found in wet forests. At the end of our trip we were allowed to socialize with a few of the reindeer, which seem to put up well with the goofy humans. Although the reindeer are relatively small compared to a horse, it is evident that they are strong animals capable of traveling with humans on their back. We were told the layer of fat and the thick coat of fur the reindeer make riding them extremely pleasant. We did not ride them but petting them was enough to attest to the pillowy nature of their backs. We were also able to see their large hoof prints, which, compared to their body size, offer a great advantage for winter travel.
With time to spare back at Battogtokh’s, a few of us set off to explore an adjacent ridge line. Well-conditioned from a couple months of field work, we straight-lined up the ridge hardly breaking a sweat. From the clearing on the ridge, we were able to pick out Mungash Mountain- home of our longest day hikes. Seeing the valley and mountain range from a varying perspective provides a humbling experience. While on the top of Mungash Mountain I had felt content in the moment- as if I had accomplished what was set for me, and now I could relax. But from the perspective of this small ridge, peering at large peaks dwarfing Mungash Mountain, I am left hungry to experience more of the landscape- maybe in a future expedition, but maybe never. On the way down the ridge, heading towards warm milk tea and dinner, I once again feel grateful for what I have experienced on this trip, in this massive landscape.
That night, a few of us ventured out with Chris to search for wildlife. Unknown to me before the trip, use of binoculars and a headlamp offers great vision at night. Although the only animal we would spot that night was a hawk soaring calmly through the gentle night, the suspense of possibly seeing the eyes shine from a jerboa, polecat, or fox kept me peering through my binoculars at everything that my mind thought could be movement. Even though no mammals were spotted, the stars this night were enough to fulfill our want of an awe-moment. The night sky on all clear nights in Mongolia is stunning, but this night felt particularly astonishing: in the open steppe with cool air settling down around you, stars and constellations feel magnified and possess power. Another trick I learned this night was to look at the stars through binoculars: many more stars are there than you think.
The next day, as most of the group travelled up the valley to retrieve a recorder left out for capturing pika calls, Noah, Isaac, and I took charge of preparing lunch in Amka’s brief absence. As a result of three guys taking charge of cooking, we were labeled the “stay-at-home dads” and apparently began running a restaurant called “Dad, Dad, and Dad.” The dads took advantage of the fresh cheese Byamba provided us with (close to the Indian cheese, paneer) and made a variation of “Shahi Paneer” using rice, lentils, canned tomatoes, and the cheese which we fried. Reviews for our restaurant averaged a 4.7: opening date TBA. Another nice thing about being a stay-at-home dad is that you get to play with your friends. To waste time, the three of us created a game which we named “ice bocce” in which each player slides two stones on the frozen creek, trying to get closest to the target stone. With more people though, the stage for ice bocce turns into the stage for the biggest hockey showdown Battogtokh’s fall camp has ever seen.
On a thirty-meter stretch of ice over the creek, the eight of us had an incredible time entertaining the local herds of cattle and anyone visiting the outhouse (best seat in the whole arena). Random sticks were used as the hockey sticks, a rock was the puck, and multiple rocks outlined each team’s goals. Beside hitting the puck with your stick, anything in this game went. Most of the plays ended in at least one player on the ice. The brawl was poetry on ice, but in a much different manner than most think of as poetry. The only factor contributing to ending our game, besides everyone’s bruised tailbone, was the large crack forming lengthwise on the ice. I couldn’t come up with a better way to finish our second trip to Battogtokh’s camp. The next day we left Battogtokh’s and were greeted in the night with a snowstorm blowing about 25 centimeters of fresh onto our basecamp outside of Ulaan Uul. This is what we had wanted, except just a little bit too late as we were starting our preparation for presentations the next day and would not have much time to go tracking or play in the snow. Regardless, what a way to start to bring closure to this incredible experience!
