By: Owen Wilson, Westminster University
Hi everyone! My name is Owen Wilson, and I am a junior at Westminster University in Salt Lake City, Utah. This blog is a story of our Daurian Pika monitoring road trip, where we visit an eventful local Naadam and drive to the north of the Darhad Valley to visit rangers’ homes and survey for pikas.
September 5th:
We left late in the morning on the 5th on our way to the local fall Naadam Festival, kicking off our road trip up the Darhad, in the Delica with Luvsan and the instructors. It was a lovely blue day, and as the car bumped its way across the valley floor, we all ran through what little info Badmaa had fed us and puzzled over her cryptic hints about what the celebration would entail and what we would be allowed to do as students.
Once we got there, after ambling around the grounds, watching archery and some of the best-dressed people I have ever seen, and finding Amka and Badmaa again, Erin and I played volleyball on a nomadic court on the young kids’ team. We were matched up against a team of guys that looked around our age, maybe a few slightly younger, and while Erin more than held her own with volleyball experience, I was left relying purely on heart and how high I could get up in the air in my beautiful and slightly cumbersome blue deel. I was fortunate that they did not keep score or toss out a less-than-capable gadaad at first look.
After we’d both wrapped up, Jamie and I both went to Badmaa. With her cosign and translation help we were signed up for the ‘untitled’ wrestlers’ category, our names and birth years on a sheet of paper held by the Naadam organizers in their palatial tent under a billowing Mongolian flag. Then, with our fate sealed, it was time for huushuur.
The fresh, steaming fried dough pockets were the perfect fuel to sit on the bench and get ready for the wrestling match. For myself, I wanted just one win; looking back, I probably should’ve prayed more to Tenger before signing up. Local teachers and others sang and introduced the proceedings, and as Jamie and I watched the wrestlers filter in, it became clear that this was going to be a serious challenge and that it was time to get set. Badmaa explained the rituals and Amka got both of us prepared with belts and hats ready to go, and as we stepped out and lined up, all our program fans got some good video of our effort.
Now that Jamie and I had both been knocked out, it was time to hit the huushuur again. The wrestling continued, with a strong-looking local man ultimately taking the win against another impressive wrestler. Looking back, even in the untitled division, it was extremely clear my pregame talk was for naught. The footage speaks for itself.
Even in the untitled division and with a loss as my achievement, being able to participate, being welcomed and cheered-for (to an extent) by the Darhad crowd, and taking part in the ceremony of Naadam wrestling was as meaningful a gift as I’ve ever received. It added a depth of excitement and personal care to the ceremony that I couldn’t have experienced any other way and is a memory that I will cherish for the rest of my life.
As we wrapped up at Naadam, with many hours of the celebration remaining, we hopped back into the Delica and hit the dirt road again. Watching the festival disappear out the back window was almost too much to take in: colorful tents dripping with ribbons, shining beastly lifted Priuses swarming around the arena, and trucks with back doors thrown open spilling plastic-wrapped candies and trinkets onto thick grass. A steppe-borne space full to the brim with deeled, laughing people, all congregated around a rippling red and blue Mongolian flag.
We drove on for many hours, heading north further into the Darhad, with the ranger Battogtokh’s summer camp in our sights. Luvsan treated us to a few live singing performances from the front seat as we traveled. Across the grassland, we encountered few obstacles and had the privilege of watching the mountains rise for 100s of kilometers across the valley floor to the east.
With myself at least relatively sweaty and dirty from Naadam, the lack of AC was a killer. I assumed it was broken for the first three hours. When we learned we could possibly cool ourselves down in the back of the car, we celebrated wildly, but our cheering was short-lived. After some fiddling up front from the passenger’s side, the vents opened. It was at that moment a dust storm to rival the Gobi was unleashed into our waiting faces from the depths of the Delica. I slept spitting dust for the rest of the ride.
The rest of the journey passed relatively uneventfully, and we pulled into Battogtokh’s summer camp ready for a rest. Instead of our ranger friend and his family, however, we were greeted by a beautiful sunset and an empty pen. After sorting out where he had gone and making plans to visit his family the next day, we spent a fun night playing Pass the Pigs, accompanied by the most scenic outhouse of all time.
September 6th:
On the 6th, we spent the bulk of the day working on pika plots, recording the vegetation and the burrow activity of the abundant lagomorphs. Otherwise, we had little action until we packed up and moved to Battogtokh’s fall camp. His camp was set up overlooking a beautiful section of the Shishged River, with other lovely mountains spanning the background.
And while Battogtokh himself was not there, his wife and daughter were incredibly hospitable and brought us many delicious white (dairy-based) foods. They also very generously shared a spread of beautiful wood carvings of Battogtokh’s. I left with plenty of them. We followed that up with an extremely intense, full-group series of Pass the Pigs games, won handily by Amka and then Jamie. Afterwards, once we were settled in, I, Amka, Jamie and Milana had a ger sleepover and stayed warm in there for the next two nights.
September 7th:
The next day, we left to drive northwards on our way to more pika plots. We are currently studying the Daurian Pika, the small burrowing lagomorph that perforates the valley floor of the Darhad, and this trip was a continuation of the longstanding Round River project monitoring their presence and habitat on the rangeland. We drove a long way, stopping by the gateway to the reindeer herders’ town, Tsagaannuur, and then split east for our research. Returning hot and dusty that evening, we were blessed with a river bath in the crystal-clear river waters west of camp, drying under the warm sun.
September 8th:
The morning of the 8th, Jamie, Milana and I got up before first light to summit a foothill to the east to catch the sunrise. Unfortunately, our summit ended up being on the wrong section of the ridge for good views, so we were left peeking over the top of the trees and watching the sunrise unfold on either side of our steep cliff edge. The camp yak herd kept a careful eye on our movements as we jogged by.
That afternoon, we set out for more pika plots, and from there headed north once again to the town of Renchinlhumbe to stay at Amka’s house. In the afternoon we went to the local supermarket all together (minus Dave), where we were plied with treats and had a ton of fun joking and laughing, especially with Lo.
We were also granted an audience with a seller of Darhad-made artifacts of yak horn, jade, carved wood, and twisted metal, with all of us happy to empty our pockets and receive gifts to accompany each purchase in turn. A spell of lazing around in the sun followed. And in the evening, we spent hours throwing the football with Amka’s niece and nephew, and the night racing pretty anklebones on the floor.
September 9th:
On the 9th, it was time to go home, back to the Pen. I would have liked to spend another week bouncing around the valley. There is no substitute for time spent with good people, and the northern Darhad Valley was full of them; nevertheless, a long and bumpy Delica ride had us out of there by midday, pockets filled with a wealth of incredible trinkets and even better experiences to show for our travels.