Eight days in Western Mongolia with a toddler

Turns out you can do pretty much anything with a toddler. Sure, it can be tiring. Yes, it’s sometimes daunting. And true, the idea of brunch every Sunday can often seem more appealing in the short term than planning and doing an eight day camping trip in a remote place far from any services. But, really, all you need to do is get out your door. That’s always the hardest part. And like many things that are hard, this trip was correspondingly memorable, and so rewarding. To see our child in the wilderness, playing happily with new friends just met, with only the unspoken language of childhood in common; to lay a foundation in her subconscious for a lifelong love of the outdoors; this alone made it worthwhile. The incredible trip we had while doing that was just a bonus.

We organized our trip through Bek Travel, an outfit run by a Kazakh-Mongolian named Bek (see him below). He was a great guy, very helpful, and the guide and support team he arranged did a very good job. Bek was flexible and accommodating to our specific requests on the itinerary – trips in western Mongolia usually involve a lot of driving, which isn’t so great for a toddler – and very kindly bought a new baby seat for W to sit in. We worked with him to develop an itinerary where the longer distances were covered in the afternoons when she was more likely to sleep.

Western Mongolia is a stunning place. It has almost no services beyond the provincial capital Olgii and one or two very small villages. Everywhere else, you’re on your own. We had a Landcruiser – everything I read said pay extra to get out of the hardy but spartan Russian offroaders – and several tents. We were joined by the lovely guide Bota, the cheery cook Jingz, and the calm and very capable driver, Oko. Those three sat up front; we three sat in the back, and the rear and the roof took all our gear and food and diesel fuel.

The rhythm is set quickly: drive slowly across rolling landscape. Stop. Set up camp. Hike a little or play by the river. Eat a big hearty dinner and fall asleep to the muffled giggles of Bota and Jingz and then to the wind in the grass. Wake up. Eat another big hearty meal, drive a  little, then hike, eat, drive, play, eat, sleep. You get used to it very quickly, and it’s wonderful.

Camping

The camping on this trip was like an extended version of our two (one before, one after) car camping trips, made a lot easier by the presence of Jingz who cooked up a storm for us each night. We had our small tent, already a squeeze for two adults, but as most nights were quite cold, this worked well. Our daughter, who hates blankets, slept in all her cold-weather clothes lying between us. She adapted very quickly: the key seems to be giving her the impression that it’s something cool but also nothing too out of the ordinary. Mongolia has fairly variable weather, so we needed to make tent life fun, too. That turned out to be quite easy thanks to the static effect of the nylon inner wall – endless insanity ensued.

Playing

There’s nothing our kid likes more than playing, and Western Mongolia is heaven for playing. With virtually no people, no vehicles, and no dogs, it couldn’t be further from the streets of Beijing if it was in, well, Mongolia. Here, we could set her free with just enough of a watchful eye to make sure she didn’t fall in a lake or stream. Her adventures ranged hundreds of meters from the camp, and involved all manner of complex stories about the rocks, sticks, and grasses she found. Other times, we explored the river bank and lake shores together, collecting and throwing stones until the sun disappeared. She didn’t need a single toy on this trip, nor a single story book (though the car rides did call for a few oral retellings of western folk history, notably Goldilocks. Each parent was quietly glad when the child nominated the other one for story telling duty).

New Friends

One thing we can all learn from children is how to make friends quickly. W is quite shy, but she loves to be around older children and some of the families we met were very friendly and kind towards her. These are hardy children, the ones who live out here. They spend the freezing cold months in town at school, and come back to the steppes to work hard through the summer. In between playing with each other, we watched them milk cows, make cheese and yoghurt, clean out the chimney on the yurt’s stove, fetch things, bring food to the table and clear it up afterwards, and attend to the youngest children and babies. Not at all an easy life, but they were full of laughter and smiles and genuine friendship towards our little daughter, who thrived in their company.

Hiking

This was a family holiday so we kept the hikes to a reasonable distance – 12 km up to the waterfall was by far the longest. The countryside lends itself to hiking with a toddler because it’s relatively flat and grassy. We could set W loose and know that even if she tripped, a grassy knee would be the only injury. On steeper areas we carried her and she either snoozed, or babbled away, or asked me if, like Goldilocks, we were “lost in the forest”.

Eating

Western Mongolia is not a place for fussy eaters. You need to bring everything on the truck with you, and though it’s cold at night it’s warm enough in the day that you can’t bring anything needing real refrigeration. Add to that the Kazakh-Mongolian diet of lots of lamb and pasta and limited fresh vegetables; well, this is not a place for pretentious foodies. We ate well and we ate a lot, and our kid did too. Home rules were not abandoned, but necessity relaxed them considerably.

Driving

There’s no getting around the long driving times. The distances aren’t so great, but the lack of roads means it takes a long time to get anywhere. We timed our drives for the afternoons, and mostly W had some long deep sleeps as we watched the landscape roll by. Oko was an exceptionally talented driver, and we never once got bogged or stuck in a river. Not everyone we saw could say the same.

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