Rain poured down on the tent, and lightning struck the rolling hills in the distance, setting the Mongolian steppe aglow. We wondered if we had made a mistake trying to hike 75 miles (120 kilometers) of "trail" in Mongolia that tourists had never visited.
As our doubts started creeping in, we heard the trit-trot of horse hooves outside. We unzipped the tent, and there was a man on a horse in the rain. He came bearing gifts.
Without a word, he hopped off his horse and handed me a ridiculously large bag of strong-smelling dried cheese before smiling, jumping back on his horse and galloping off into the horizon.
This was the first of many visits on a hiking adventure that would go down in our books as one of the best experiences in our 12 years of travel.
This story starts in 2012, and while that may seem like a long time ago, the great thing about Mongolia is that it hasn't changed much in the past thousand years, let alone in the past decade.
We were finishing up a one-year teaching contract in China when we decided to head to Mongolia to escape the polluted cities of Central China and into the vast emptiness of the Mongolian steppe.
But we didn't want to join a tour or hire a guide. No, we decided to use Google Satellites to locate a river connecting two towns and plot our route along that river.
It took us about two weeks of zooming in and out of Google Maps to find the perfect river. Our plan involved 75 miles (120 kilometers) of trekking in the middle of nowhere, and we figured we'd be completely alone.
Was this a brilliant plan or a foolish and potentially fatal idea cooked up in the brains of two self-proclaimed "intrepid travelers?" Only time would tell.
Table of Contents
Arriving in Mongolia
Like most travelers to Mongolia, our first stop was the capital of Ulan Bator. But instead of coming by plane, we hopped on the Trans-Mongolian train, an extension of the famed Trans-Siberian Express route.
Chugging along on the tracks in the countryside of one of the least populated countries on Earth gave us a good idea of what we would experience on this trek. The Mongolian steppe's emptiness was broken up only by small nomadic yurt camps, and the rolling green hills seemed to go on forever.
Stocking Up in Ulan Bator
We picked up the remaining supplies we couldn't find in China in Ulan Bator. The city has some good camping stores that have pretty much everything one needs for a multi-day trekking excursion.
We bought some dehydrated dinners, a small cooking stove, gas, and some other snacks and bits from the store before hopping on a tiny bus to the town of Chuluut Sum. We didn't pack enough food for the entire trip, because I planned to catch fish along the way.
I had packed up my best fly fishing rod and brought it from China. I planned to try catching some local Lenok to sustain us while on the hike, which would take around eight days.
Planning in Tsetserleg
I'd say this is where we got very lucky. We ended up staying at Fairfield Guest House in Tsetserleg (the only hostel-type accommodation in town), and the owner was an Australian expat who had close relationships with many nomadic families in the area.
He put us in touch with a local fisherman, Bayara, who had been on the Chuluut River many times. He helped us procure our local fishing license and also helped us a lot with the trip's planning.
We told him our plan (translated through the hostel owner) for hiking in Mongolia, and his first reaction was that we were wild.
Why not just do it on a horse?
After explaining to Bayara that it would be more dangerous for two inexperienced riders to head out on the steppe for days on end on horses they don't know how to care for, he became fascinated by our idea and was eager to help.
He showed us some parts of the river that would be boggy and hard to cross and explained that on the last two days of the trek, the river would be at the bottom of a canyon, and we wouldn't have access to it.
He showed us where to stock up on water and supplies for the last two days, shared some of his favorite fishing pools, and marked them on the map. After speaking with Bayara for a few hours, we figured we were as ready as we would be to embark on this epic journey.
The Adventure Begins
Bayara set us up with a driver who took us to the start of our proposed trail on the Chuluut River just outside of Chuluut Sum, a small, nondescript village in the middle of nowhere.
We were dropped off in the village, and with our compass in hand, we started heading north along the river. Within 30 minutes of being on the trail, dark clouds began forming on the horizon, and we quickly realized we were in for a storm.
After only about an hour of hiking in Mongolia, we set up our first camp and pitched the tent just in time to avoid the rain. It rained for about an hour, and we had our first visitor. The lone horseman was one of about a dozen or so people who would come to see us during this eight-day hike.
Will The Rain Ever End?
For the first five days of the trek, it rained almost constantly. There was a 24-hour period when we could do nothing but sit in the tent and wait for the downpour to relent. Finally, we packed our backpacks and hiked for about an hour before the rain started again.
The amazing thing was that even though we were in the middle of nowhere, we were never far from other nomadic families.
No matter where we would set up camp, there would be a camp of yurts way off in the distance, and without fail, when the rains would stop, we would have a curious visitor or three at our campsite.
Local Interactions
I don't know how many people came to see us over the eight-day trek in the Mongolian steppe, but one thing was for sure: We were the only foreign faces they had ever seen.
The children who came on the back of their fathers' horses or motorbikes were always in awe-their mouths open and their eyes following our every move in complete disbelief.
There was only one girl who visited us who we knew had seen foreigners before. She grew up living a nomadic life, traveling up and down the Chuluut River and around the steppe, but her parents managed to save enough money to send her to school in Ulan Bator.
There, she had British teachers who taught her how to speak English very well. She invited us into her yurt and showed us how they make cheeses, yogurts, and milk.
Her 20-year-old brother, who hadn't had the privilege of attending school in the big city, couldn't speak English and was as fascinated by us as the young children who had visited us. The young girl explained that her brother, and likely everyone we had met on this journey, had never seen a foreign face before.
He was equally interested in my fly rod, which he saw packed on the side of my bag. I asked him if he enjoyed fishing, and he said he did, so we went to the river together.
First, he showed me his fishing techniques, and then I explained to him as much as I could about fly fishing, without being able to speak any local language. I taught a Mongolian nomad how to cast a fly rod on the banks of the Chuluut River.
It was incredible. There's a lot of technique involved, but there he was, dressed in his deel (traditional Mongolian clothing), casting a rod back and forth, trying to get the fly out on the water.
As I sat there watching the scene unfold, I felt truly blessed to be in such a remote part of the world and to have such a transformative cultural exchange moment with a man born into a completely different life from mine. And yet, there we were, sharing a common passion.
This was just one of a dozen interactions with the local Mongolians on this journey. I have to say that we left the country with a great appreciation for Mongolian hospitality and warmth.
It seems ingrained in their culture that when you see a fellow nomad, trekking on foot or horseback, you come over and see how they're doing.
Even though no words could be exchanged in our case, their gestures and gift-giving made it clear that they wanted to make sure we were okay when adventuring into the vast wilderness that they all call their backyard.
We would repay their generosity with small gifts of stickers and pens from Canada, but we could never repay them for the experiences they gave us, which have stuck with us for nearly a decade and which we'll never forget.
In Conclusion
Despite the rain and the challenging hiking over flooded terrain, this eight-day trek will remain among our best travel experiences.
We were lucky that we were never far from nomadic families during the trip, who made us feel welcome and a little less wild for being so far from civilization. We gained new respect not only for the Mongolian people and their generosity but also for their incredible way of life.
Sure, we had a week away from our devices and away from society, and it felt like it cleansed our souls, but for many Mongolians, this is simply life. Moving from place to place with the seasons and being self-sustaining is something they've mastered over the millennia.
Our freeze-dried meals and polyester waterproof tents were all interesting to them. Still, their beautifully decorated yurts and herds of animals that supplied them with sustenance constantly reminded us of how far we've departed from our roots.
There was a time when everyone lived more like Mongols. A simpler time. Perhaps nowhere in the world can that remarkable lifestyle be witnessed as freely as in the Mongolian Steppe.
Traveler Tips
If you want to plan a similar hiking trip in Mongolia, here are some useful tips.
Follow a River: There's a reason we decided to follow the Chuluut River. It connected two relatively well-known sums (towns): the southern Chuluut Sum, where we started, and the northern Terkhiin Tsagaan Nuur, where the trek ended. Following a river in Mongolia will improve your chances of having many nomadic families around you, which is helpful in an emergency. Also, all their camps have dogs that help keep wolves away.
Pack Waders: While I did bring my fly rod and fly fishing gear, I wish I had also packed a good pair of fly fishing waders. Parts of the river were quite wide, and it would have been nice to have waterproof wading pants to wade into deeper waters and cast at larger fish.
Don't Do Laundry in the Rivers: We found out after we had already done it, but Mongolians consider the rivers sacred, so you should carry water away from the river to clean your clothes. A plastic garbage bag would work well, but it will take much longer to complete a load!
Pack Waterproof Boots: There were plenty of parts of our hike where the river had flooded, and we were trudging through ankle-deep water. Our boots weren't waterproof then, so we wish we had packed a better pair of hiking boots.
Learn a Bit of Russian: We wouldn't have been able to correctly pronounce many Mongolian words (it's a tough language to learn), but even in the Steppe, most Mongolians can speak Russian. Simply being able to say "thank you, hello, and goodbye" in Mongolian will impress them. If you know a bit more Russian, that would be even better.
Bring Gifts: We were delighted to have Canadian stickers, pens, and notepads. The children's faces lit up when we gave them the pens, and one of the local nomads proudly posted the Canada sticker on the gas tank of his motorbike!
