Mongolia X Journal 11 // Bones in the Earth // Long Haul Trucking north of Tuul River // Microadventure by Brian Peric // Mountain Bike Challenge //

[Photo sequence north of Tuul River region, a long day tailgating the long-haul trucker and bones in the Earth]

There are always interesting Mongolian characters crossing paths in the tracks, these lonesome highways of the Nomadic ones. There are a few permanently-built establishments along empty plains and mountain lines that slip in and out of the horizons. Those few whom have chosen to remain in a single location have made it permanent outside handful of Mongolian urban collectives.Here I found a highway roadhouse, a wooden ship in the open sea, that caters to overland Nomads and some truckers carrying Ger accessories, non-perishable food supplies across one section of the Steppe to the next. The roadhouse is simple, open windows painted bright blue without window panes to stop the wind in summer, green grassland is not far from our wooden table built with wood planks that were milled directly outside a forest. They are serving meat, fat and handmade noodles. Relaxing here with the road truckers, we have been pacing about the same with slow climbs and sweeping descents which I can pass them on. No mechanical problems at all today, very happy about that. Visited a Mongolian Nomad herder and his wife and child, we sipped salted goat milk tea together, they were welcoming - I left them with some Tuna that I am carrying.

Weather has been good, heavy rain showers at night, high winds, then dew point in the mornings. I carry the rain tarp in a separate plastic bag, then around Noon, I open it either staked across the deserted Steppe, or in this case, I hung it on the wooden fence outside the Road house restaurant. The menu is mutton and noodles generally, there is no choice and the fat adds some extra calories. I started out 95kg and feel like 85kg right now only getting into the ride. Sun shine and clouds dense overhead float shadows and I ride in and out of their majesty. Maximum mountain biking=this is credit to Mongolia, the absolute place to be right now. I feel blessed and working hard to cross over it.

Thanks for visiting the X Journals! These posts are my private thoughts written during the summer mountain biking in Outer Mongolia. More adventures coming soon, so please enjoy the journey!

Mongolia X Journal 10 // Landed in Eden // Campfire Song and a Nomadic Herder // Mountain biking in the lands of Genghis Khan // Microadventure bike trip //

Undoubtedly one of the best sections of the course across Mongolia, was reaching "Eden" - a vast green Steppe grassland area with trimmed forest mountain tops, white Ger tents, their Nomads and flocks of goats, sheep and horses. My ankles are pulsing with pain right now, the swelling after days of punishing climbs too rocky to ride up. It's the reality in a dream destination like this, to encounter some unforgiving days of physical torture that leaves the lungs stronger and ankles a bit worse for the wear.

"I think I've found "Eden." This place is beautiful, completely awe-inspiring beauty in land and people."

This spectacular location scenery is lush and full carpeted grassland. Sitting back in front of my Northface tadpole tent, I am spotting herds of sheep and goats, represented by white and black dots across the gentle slope of smoothed out mountains. I am camped between these panoramic sloping hills beneath sliced forests a kilometer away from Ger clans. Distant sheep and goat are tracking in formation as they munch their  way across Steppe. Slow movement is urged by distant honking and rumble of a Herder on a small single-bore motorcycle. Some have remained true to their roots in pastorialism, and keep their beautiful horses fit while herding flocks of up to 300 sheep and goats in a healthy stock. All seems perfect and serene for these Nomads living on the land without ownership. Nomads have learned these sustainable practices which are now foreign to the rest of us in the developed world of the West. However, there is one serious threat to this perfection in life forces at work here. Nature's mighty weather and climate changes, can in a single season wipe this serenity off the face of these pristine inhabited plains.

Today, I am very fortunate to come across a Youth group and their Elders from Erdenet. They have a large camp  being setup while I am silently cycling past on these dirt tracks. Every hand in their group was pitching together to prepare a night of evening festivities. I am the lone wolf out here now.

Although I am tempted to make more distance today, I just put my head down and cycled further for a few minutes. I do not know what is waiting around the next bend or mountain climb to pass ahead. I just know there will be many. I'm tired and my ankles are swollen now, I need a serious rest. What's ahead, could be anything from what I have encountered the first 7 days, another arid desert-Steppe plateau or will it be rocky and steep, anyone knows.  As I'm climbing toward this steep pitch of the dirt tracks, I turned to look back just before crossing over the horizon. What I can see is a flame flickers out of their wood, a campfire is getting started with light twists of smoke rising into the blue.

I turned and kept pedaling up the mountain for 2 minutes of exertion  I'm ready to collapse and wouldn't let that "fire" leave my mind, I had not seen one anywhere, and I knew I wouldn't see another "open fire" again for days. Mongolian Nomads cook on stoves with wood or animal dung, they wouldn't waste it burning fuel without heating their homes and cooking at the same time. I turned back, pedaled hard for a few minutes and rode over to greet them.

At first, one university student didn't like my presence at all, looking disagreeable about my visit, "You can't stay here, goodbye." I waited and tried to speak to others standing nearby. And when others came around, I explained what I was doing -quite simple, "I'm mountain biking across Mongolia for the summer and needed a safe place to camp for the night." The rest of their group were agreeable, and I went over and found a spot to pitch my tent away from their circles. It turned out to be a fabulous night after all. A night of two campfires, meeting their Elders and all the Youth together, we sipped shot glasses of vodka, listened to music, the group sang traditional Mongolian song, again I was reminded, this is Eden. It was awesome and a welcomed huge relief.

Their Elders asked that I sit directly in front of them during the ceremony and accept the gifts of candy, sweets and drinks of salted goat milk that they offered me. I graciously accepted their offerings, reflecting, it was a stunning situation. I even drank "airag" or horse milk that was partially fermented and enjoyed it too.We stayed up late, we had the warm campfires, some student went off with my Cygolite 350 lumen to light up the camp and help others with cleaning up, the rest of us drank vodka in surprising shots from nowhere, as they slipped behind me as I filmed our fire. It was heavenly, and I went back and retired for a goodnight's rest.

The next morning, the group packed earlier than I had even remotely planned to. Given the severity of of my anklescondition,I would give it another day here that wouldn't hurt my summer schedule at all. I pushed extremely hard starting out and made good progress for the first 7 days without stopping except an overnight camp each night. I took the surroundings in, the safety and comfort of the green pasture land replacing the vacant deserted Steppe deserts I had just climbed out of days earlier - time for a break. I'm glad I did, except for the sunburn on my right leg, when I collapsed into a comatose in the late afternoon, my thigh cooked like a roasted wiener on a spit.  The weather was serene, although I do wonder in way worry about the conditions that all Mongolian Herders will inevitably face each year in the dead of winters.



Terrible situations can come from Mother Nature. These Nomads reflect introspection, gentleness of their people on their lands. Mongolians take care of their people, hosting other Nomad travelers.

They take care of their animals and are gentle on their land. Weather, however, can have adverse affects to their enduring and enchanted way of life on the Steppe. There are different severe winter conditions classified in Mongolia, depending on freeze/thaw droughts, heavy snowfall, or other factors - known as Dzud.  The 2009/2010 winter was one roughest on record for Mongolians, where an enormous amount of snowfall (200-600mm) covered the Steppe grassland, burying the grassland which is feed for millions of grazing livestock animals. As a result of this Dzud, it had devastating effect on Nomadic herders and their families losing a combined 2.1 million animals (sheep, goat, horse, cattle and camels) devastating their sustainable way of life which has endured into the modern times. Alternatively, many Herders who lost more than 1/2 of their flock resorted to urbanization as the solution, moving their Ger tents closer to the peripheral Ger districts of Ulaanbaatar, a city already teeming with development issues. The National Geographic Magazine wrote on this subject in their October 2011 issue located here.

Despite the recent climatic changes which devastated Mongolia Nomadic herding and affected families, these people are survivors and despite economic and climatic challenges being faced each year, they remain some of the warmest people in one of the coldest and remote places on Earth.


Today, I am recovering from 7 hard days mountain biking across the Steppe, a landscape as ever changing as the weather here - I've seen rain and sunshine, high wind and scorching sun. This variable topography is like nothing I have seen moving with mountain biking. Mountains and valley transform into plateaus and these crossings (Davaa, Mongolian) are the Great Divide of Central Asia. Regional borders have been drawn on maps, divided into 21 provinces (aimags, a Mongolian word used that means "tribe"). Most start traveling from the capital Ulaanbatar which is in the central province inside Tov Province. The harsh and breathtaking scenes witnessed while overland traveling through Mongolia are the countries main attractions, as are the Herder Nomads and their flocks of sheep, goat, yak, horse and camel - and a guard dog at every Ger village. I have grown accustomed to these animals and notice that goats are bold creatures, they will come right up to my tent, try to sniff or chew on a cable or pull the ropes staked in the hard ground supporting my tent's rain cover. I can also hide up in the hills, isolated from view of others, and keep myself stocked up on water supply - the most essential piece of equipment.

A Nomad with a horse appears along the horizon, we greet one another in Mongolian, and seem to make a great connection today. I can't walk so well, or don't want to - my ankles are swollen and they need some rest. He joins me for figs and raisins, we sit in the sun and through Mongolian and body language - he demonstrates his skill for directing a herd of 200 goats and sheep through a pasture about 600 meters away. He whistles and he chants "Ack! Ack!" and these herds wandering over the stream in the valley between us and the larger mountains (Ikh Uul - large mountains), we watch them cross back over in order. These flocks are obedient and flow across the lush green pastures, a truly beautiful smooth movement of animals through an undulating landscape that someone painted green in portrait. He whistled and pointed to his two top teeth, they were replacement artificials, as he explained in body language and Mongolian that he had fallen off a horse on a hard dirt track and lost them. He couldn't whistle without them and had them made. He also explained to me that he called the flocks back from their pasture across a river in the valley because he said the word "Chono, or pronounced "Chun" in the video I made while we sat together. He imitated an animal stalking it's prey that I couldn't figure out at first, thinking he meant another herder would steal his sheep, or I suggested it was a vulture. After some reflection on my journal and internet research, I know it was the wolf.

Thanks for reading my private journals written while mountain biking across Mongolia. More adventures are coming soon!

Mongolia X Journal 9 // Fists of Fury and Gold Rush Fever // Microadventure by Brian Peric // Outer Mongolia Expeditions

[Photo above: Mongolia X Journal 10, Coming soon!]

I am settled into a tough routine now. I ride about 8 hours a day, and set camp 200 meters away from the dirt tracks. Today, I faced a maze of dirt tracks while traced similar dust-dirt fields of grass that were selected for agriculture. I packed camp outside a Ger tent this morning, the grey haired herder and his young daughter helped me pack my bags and fill water from their blue barrels, extremely kind older man taking care of his young family on the Steppe. Thanking my generous hosts for their salted goat tea. There is usually an exchange in this custom - I give them some of my provision, Tuna and a bag of fresh toffee chocolates, he won't accept money. I leave a great place in search of dirt tracks back across the inhospitable Steppe. This harsh contrast really awakens you after traveling for hours with nothing in the horizons except white dots too far to make a difference (those are Ger tents along the mountains, miles from the National highways - also dirt tracks).

After a few hours, I am riding through a truly barren landscape of man-made destruction, I ride and meet two English Motorscooter travellers from England. We stopped and exchanged perspectives on Mongolia travel, they riding a good speed despite their small tires, I admired their scooters rigged with spare tires, extra fuel tanks, clothing and camping equipment. They must have thought I was a bit "Nutter" traveling with a mountain bike, camping equipment, spares. Actually, minus the cooking equipment and gasoline fuel, most of our kits were the same, I even carry a Topeak Alien II multi-tool and spare brake pads (2 sets), spare chain (Shimano XTR/Dura-Ace 9-speed HG7701), spare Marathon tire, spare tubes, spare spokes and spare spoke nipples, electronics - I do not carry a chain whip to remove a rear sprocket, and I do wrap my rims internally with PVC tape to prevent internal punctures should the rim split like it did previously in the Chinese Himalayas. Duct tape, electrical tape, wire - useful, as is, Crazy glue - contact glue for about any repair including shoes/soles. I have about 150ml of contact glue in my kit, indispensable in Mongolia bike travel. Anyways, I didn't chat long with the ladies from England, but they gave me tips for the rough roads ahead. We were along Zaamaar Mountain now and entering the Gold Mining camp areas above the Tuul River. They advised not to camp down near the river and be careful with the locals. Good advice noted, I wished them well and needed to keep moving - the flies were feasting on sweat and driving me forward once again - Can't get enough help from flies to complete an expedition - they are incredible teammates to have on your side! The terrain is desolate and the air is murky in the sunlight.

True to form, the stories shared in daily reflection today from the Scoots Ride the World were true in what what coming ahead of me today. What's interesting is we pass the same overturned semi-tractor trailer, and I discovered a Mongolian man waiting inside there!  I stopped in and offered water, he had no provisions. After a few minutes other Mongolians stopped as well, and some assisted the man taking him away in their pickup truck across the barren terrain.

The surrounding landscapes once lush with Steppe grass for days, has now turned into a lifeless arid mountain coastline without an ocean. Animals which were once placated and roaming around in my view all day have vanished into memory, the land now stripped bare to the bone. Dust and dirt and stubby grass for miles I can see, as the horizon slopes and rises towards the Tuul River valley.

My vision is blurred by glaring sunlight, the terrain now opening into a minefield imploded leaving trenches dug into open strip mining. The powers of man and his machines has really transforms an area from natural to desolate dirt absent of local Nomadic dwellings and their herding animals. This  transformation of a golden grassland into a hole reliable for garbage refuse deposit, is an uncontrolled Gold Mining zone in Mongolia. The area is active with both official industry mining and unofficial mining - it appears by the trucks large and small, Earth is being removed and searched through for the tiny nuggets in the ground. Since this is an active area for mining, there are a few other hazards to look out for. Drunken miners returning from long hard days slamming rigs, shaking pans, and getting dosed by amble sunshine. It's a tough life on the range, not a place I want to stay long, or camp either.

Fortunately, after riding into the void for hours on end, I jump into a Kia Bongo headed west to the Tuul River area a few kilometers ahead. I hitch-hike in this tiny pickup truck into town. Once inside the town's main dirt square, there are two miners active outside a General Store, punching the 'lights out' of each other, but one of them has the upper hand at wrestling. At first sight as the two played tango with their feet kicking up dust and dirt trying to trip one another - the street fighting looks interesting, a fight at High Noon. This giant burly of a  man grabs the other guy by the eye-sockets and with that face gripped tight in the palm of his large stone hand, he used the rest of stove pipe muscular arm to secure the other man to the ground. 

They continue to make sudden moves, twist and fumble into the dirt. It looked like a scene from one of those the Wild West movies I used to watch on Saturday mornings in Canada, some 30 years ago broadcast through American television in Detroit. At least for these two wild dukes, the local alcohol is is rich and in ready supply so they both have soaked up enough 80-proof vodka - to help kick each others faces in without feeling a single punch. 

They continue to scrape at each other for a few minutes while we pull up past them at this General store. It's exciting to watch street fights, times like this when two men kick each other and paw just like one preying mantis taking prey over another.   As they roll in the dirt in the front lot, locals stroll past without noticing these two at a heated fight. The two drunk miners rumble themselves without any audience, clearly too drunk and stupid to stop trying to knock a little more sense into one other. Good luck, glad it's not me in that kind of fight today, I have enough to deal with on my bike tour.

We dropped in front of the store, past the drunken idiots, and the rest of this tiny wooden village seemed calm and quiet on this Sunday afternoon. With the generous help unloading, I parked in front of the store to stock supplies, much needed water topped my lists, and I love the bottles of pickles for $2.

Inside the General Store, the temperature is 10 degrees cooler. Feeling relieved of flies, dirt tracks that I escaped riding through Zaamar Mountain, here I am in the interior Tul River mining area. It's hot and dry outside and the sunshine immense - so much that I need to slip away indoors to cool my head. Inside, I am sorting through my electronics box, I have chargers for the Sony cameras in a tall, retangular Tupperwear bucket, also I find my spare 2G mobile phone purchased in Urumqi, China which comes to replace the water-saturated Apple iPhone 3G which is now useless bit of $250 electronic and plastic perched in the map bag to dry some more in the sun. She's helpful inside, the store owner allows a mobile battery charge and after a bucket of yogurt, two jars of pickles, and a liter of water - my body fluid levels are back to the pre-Zaamar Mountain levels in the desert I just crossed over. It's easy to dehydrate, but water and Gatorade powder do go well together to keep up the H2O levels, I am happily addicted to hydration and keep the pulse for more mountain biking ahead today.

Fortunately, this day is a real gift of life. I have survived some terrible biting flies again, spent another night asleep on the Steppe grassland at night away from the dirt track, and came to this safe spot. I am standing inside for a few hours, I can't stand the blazing (expletive deleted) heat of that sun at least for right now, since there is no way around it and the roads are so mountainous, corrugated, or rocky in many sections, the terrain is unpredictable for riding at night, I also am physically spent covering what distance is possible right now. I give up around 2030 hours each day, starting out around 0800. This system allows for several 30 minute breaks in the day, and that is the opportunity to relax and tune out the Steppe. 

Inside the General Store, I am accomplishing some notes, speaking to the clerk and greeting local customers. Tourist Mongolians coming from Ulaanbaatar are coming into the store with sharp, clean clothing, a father and his daughter making a few purchases before they return to the road. Passerbys like there arrive in Hyundai SUVs and leave without further pause here. When local miners come in, they are either respectable women buying family supplies, others are hard working young men from Nomadic herding families who moved here for paid work. There is another type of miner, the classic drunken skunk, who is today uncontrollably stone hammered by the mining, the panning in the river, the long hours roasting in the hot sun, and the powerful hallucinations brought on by vodka soak that stenches his breath. He is towering the a hulk of muscle and tendons, carrying his fists of fury on the length of each tree branch that resembles a strong arm protruding from Gold's Gym window and wrapping itself across the oceans all the way from Santa Monica, California.

This big burly man in front of me has arms and hands chiseled of steel and legs holding the ground like skinny rubber bicycle tubes, having a hard time to balance, he drops fists on the glass counter and orders another bottle of cheap Mongolian vodka, taking the bottle in hand and opening his mouth, all he needs to do is cock the bottle back and take another shot. Slamming the bottle back onto the tempered glass counter top, the clerk jumps and other customers whip out of the store with their goods. I am left standing next to him, I smile and say, "Hello, Sainbaino!" And I have no problem with him, but I give body motion that the vodka is too much, not too healthy for him - Not sure that this passes through his cerebral cortex, but he does smile and offers me a shot. Of course, I don't want to drink - I am narrowly re-hydrated right now, tired, dirty and exhausted from the days battle fought on the mountain bike. He insists, of course I will drink with him, at least one shot for the day! (expletive deleted)! This is DEFINITELY not what I planned starting out, and these shots of vodka really hurt when I get back on the bike, bottoms up!  I take a shot of vodka and this burly miner offers another one.

I am out, and he hisses at other customers he tries to speak to in slurring Mongolian, his speech and manner is loose and unkempt. With some words from the patron at the store, he takes his bottle, I tightly close the cap for him, and he stumbles out into the dirt lot. The sun has turned it's way through the clear haze outside, this nature clock tells me it's time to retire soon for the night, must find a camp and leave town to where, after all I have seen in the last 8 hours today, there really isn't much around these parts of the Tuul River area.

Another customer is listening to my talk of
mountain biking across Mongolia, and asks where I am from in English. Refreshing right now to hear words spoken in my mother tongue, I respond Windsor, Ontario, Canada - now living in Korea. We exchange some thoughts on the area, I am telling him about the fist fight outside, he seems to acknowledge this as the "normal situation" given our location and the sense of lawlessness brewing somewhere when some disputes erupt over Gold panning claims, since nobody there is licensed, there are no police, no holds barred fights and drunkenness can accompany a night in this dust bowl. He introduces himself as Egee and urges me to depart before dark on the bike. 

We agree to meet at the bridge outside town, but first I need to dash somewhere to have a serious bowel movement, I grab some wet wipes from my backpack -the store clerk won't let me use her toilet, as there is no running water here, a hole somewhere will do! I pace outside and look around for a "hole" in the ground, she motions to the box towards the river, I want down 200 meters but the shed is locked tight, I walk back up to the store - she points to a neighbor's Ger tent fenced off from the center dirt road square, I walk up past the Ger tent and find the magic box. As in all places inhabited in Mongolia outside the urban centers, these holes fill the group with human refuse! I unload in the heat box, and then head back to the store, relieved and breaking a cool sweat in that process, I jump back on the Lynskey and ride down to the bridge, and there Egee and his security driver are waiting for me. 

We speak together for a moment, Egee steps out of his Toyota Landcruiser and points to the sign next to the bridge. He explains this is his mining company sign, one of the very few licensed operations in this area, located high up in the mountains further up the dirt tracks. What is amazing is my next question - "Do you have showers up at your mining camp?" And Egee's answer, "Sure, we do!" So from there I asked since I haven't bathed in a week, if it were possible to come visit the camp and take a shower, perhaps wash my few clothes I am wearing and carrying. "No Problem!" So, ecstatic at this invitation to civilization after riding through the void Steppe for consecutive days in the saddle, he offers a lift up there. "Nah, it's okay. I can ride. I am riding all the way across Mongolia this summer." 

I didn't know where the camp was exactly, so we continued and the Landcruiser would speed ahead and disappear over the horizon, then when I came cranking over the rolling mountain passes rising from the Tuul river, I would see them parked up a rocky patch of mountain in 4-wheel drive. We followed this pattern for about an hour, but I slowed and decided to unload the front panniers giving them to Egee to take in their Landcruiser. Once unloaded, I continued up the tracks but didn't have water in the bottles on the frame, maybe a drop, but my Ortlieb control bag was up with the panniers in the sport utility vehicle ahead with all my water supplies attached to them. It was tough cycling and the Fox shocks were bouncing at high pressure without a load over them. It was really rough cycling up these twin jeep trackes around the mountain range. Finally, I meet them and give up. We flipped the quick release removing the front wheel and tossed the bicycle into the back of the Landcruiser. 

We drive for about 5 minutes into a serene mountain area, completely untouched, no herders or animals, tall grasses growing wild, and came to the compound peripheral zone, a berm of dirt built up from backhoes with armed guards that looked like Mongolian military standing by at the gates. The two private security "Soldiers" as they were so well armed, let us through, we were the officials - and Egee, my incredible host was the owner of this entire operation in the mountains. Once we rolled into the valley between the mountains, the Ger camp appeared, clean and neat - a beautiful little Ashram community, like Yogananda's SRF location outside Escondido, California where I meditated in 12 years ago, this mountain village was pristine and the local community of 80 were all employed by Egee. 

We had dinner come from several ladies on staff, they carried in pastrami and cheese, we dined on Mongolian and western treats - bread baked fresh - this was too good to be true. His small building in the compound was central, he looked over the community and unlike the mining town I had just passed through, this community was dry, alcohol-free, which brought civility to the inhabitants. I feel relived right now, safe and clean. It's been tough so far, but there is much still ahead. It's a great help to reach civilization from the void I came through, but at the start of this day I camped out with an amazing Nomad herder, his wife and young daughter - they were truly genuine, so no matter how rough the course is, the beauty of Mongolia comes to the surface everyday exploring here. I feel lucky, truly.

More adventure journals coming soon!  These are my daily thoughts,reflections and experiences written while mountain bike touring across Outer Mongolia - Hope you enjoy them!

Mongolia X Journal 8 // Unexpected Surprises // Mountains // Bicycle Touring to the music of life // Microadventure by Brian Peric //

Mysterious riders appear on our horizon. Two fair skinned riders with gleaming European touring bikes and full Ortlieb touring bags that looked like they just snipped the price tags off before starting their ride today. Could there possibly be more than 6 of us all moving in one direction from Ulaanbaatar? At the moment, I feel like I am cycling into a dream with all these unfamiliar riders around me, most cannot speak English and others do not even try. It's the start of something brand new for everybody - since we all landed only a few days ago - time, the elements, the terrain we travel upon will all give us a challenge to live up to - some will overcome and others will make their best efforts trying to.

Today, the punctuation marks were having flat tires (Hak Jun, the Dear Leader) and my Camelback podium bottle slipping through my hand and rolling out into the road -semi-flattened by a passing car, seeing an industrial and developing world of concrete and surrounding Ger communities melt back in the Earth's mantle where they originated. Dust and broken bones nearly missing a open manhole today. We ride through smoke and the perfume of Peace Avenue in a melee concerted orchestra keeping a nation together in the global community with pulses of life, controlled chaos of unEarthed cement and tarmac roads disintegrating into ashes which rose the amazing Phoenix of Ulaanbaatar.

Riding higher and above 1350 meters, the city calamity disappears now into infinity - This is remarkable and unmistakable, choosing the fastest way out of the city. Go west I would say! The air quality improves and the ride smooths into pulsing rhythms, the land and the bicycle tourist meet together as one - finally, without the cacophony of other vehicles and roadway dangers to sweep past and swerve to avoid.

I come to Mongolia to ride mountain bikes, to experience a new culture, language and way of life. What I didn't expect was meeting 3 Korean university student bike tourers writing a $9500 US Korean guide book, using a Lonely Planet guidebook as their guide; and 2 Polish cycle tourists who said about 2 words in the few hours we passed each other. They cycled past us, I asked "What's your name?" The gentleman answered, "Peter" and 30 minutes later we are passing them, I ask, "Where are you from?" The same guy answers, "Poland!" And this is the extent of our conversation, like we were fierce competitors in the Tour, or we were out to complete the most impossible endurance race (on paved roads) leaving the capital of Mongolia, or perhaps some cyclists don't like company?

Unexpected Surprises // Mountains // Bicycle touring to the music of life //

This journals title explains a lot and I will finish writing today slightly poetically. Life isn't simple, it's quite complex until you learn to ride bicycles. This is where the problems of life get smoothed out and rolled over - as thoughts and feelings have more time to settle down. Give yourself time away from everything that seems hectic and too important to let go. It takes a few rides to get to know, or re-familiarize yourself again, with the knowing and understanding that comes from moving miles and miles through thoughts, sweat, bottles of hydration added in a purposeful direction.

The music of life is listening to the whirring whip of the bicycle chain while clicking away with the gears - today it only takes a thumb or finger flick to change your speed and adjust to the grade of the road. Sometimes I'm tapping brake levels and listening to the purring rubber tread of these Schwalbe tires making solid contact with the road, while keeping this cycle in motion.  I see and hear so many noises that induce a rhythm or snake charmers trance. I am now on the fast track to adventure and my heart energy is pumping adrenalin which makes a cyclist smile. You can share the road with many riders, it takes a lot less room than a car, and you will always find peace within yourself - knowing that journey is the destination everyday.

Cycling is a freewheel motion, it doesn't require gasoline or internal combustion and can save us a lot money. It requires faith and dedication using a bicycle on a long tour because you cannot step off and leave a bicycle behind  (at least not for long) since it carries your life's supplies and is essential to keep making your daily progress. You can walk together or ride together, stop and take a break together, or rebuild one another. The relationship builds over time, you need to cycle to reach a destination or a daily goal, and the bicycle needs someone to ride it, care for it's squeaks and tweaks and make sure the wheels are aligned -straight and narrow down the road, the trail, the mountain, crossing the stream, over the log in the forest, through the trees, down the mountain. The brakes are adjusted to work efficiently on steep hills, pads to aluminum rims or pads to steel discs. Above all, the bicycle was invented to keep you up to speed with your health, your life, your next adventure.

Bicycles have maintained their poise as an ever incredible invention today, yesterday or 100 years (3650 days) ago. Prices have sure changed, as do the styles and brands people ride. However, beyond the material and shapes and angles, the timelessness of bicycles and the pure joy to ride them hasn't changed at all. The creativity that comes from riding bicycles also makes this machine so special.

Relationships are formed through an introduction, cycle meets cyclists and together they illuminate the hidden, unexpected surprises that happen when this simple machine and the rider come together in motion. The turning of the crank, the whirring and whipping of the chain, the glean of silver light from a clear sprocket, the slapping of the pannier bags hitting big bumps in the dirt roads, sounds and motion. As long as sounds are consistent, the rider can be confident their cycle is running efficiently, smoothly through the gears especially when climbs out of valleys into steep mountain terrain.

When you ride cycles, you see nature and say hello to the elements - sunshine, rain, snow, wind, hail, thunder and lightning, dust blowing in deserts, tumbleweeds leaping across the highway, the roll of thunder clouds, those anvil-shaped heads of cumulonimbus or the whisking high rising lenticular-shaped clouds all characteristic of weather and climate, cycle and rider, the day you ride through. Bicycle touring is a compass to life, giving you better directions to take. It is also a gift that you keep preciously and practice to perfect because only a long road, or a daily commute can give you this kind of focus, the calm, the collected in money less spent while using the bicycle instead of the bus or the automobile.

I commuted to work in Vancouver, British Columbia because I could save the bus fares and empty stares on the bus, of course, cycling is so much more exciting and inviting to try. Most cyclists feel good when they ride, the daily grinding of the crank and the circumnavigating wheel spins 360 degrees in rapid motion, we go places and see faces, see nature up front and center and weather or climate can really give us heaven or hell depending on our longitude and latitude on Earth.

It's simply marvelous and miraculous, the bicycle. And even in the fiercest or calmest weather and climate on Earth - we can prepare for it, endure on our rides even when we are "caught out" without enough equipment and clothing preparation - we can still endure because or body works harder to move and stay warm, generating it's own source of heat through kinetic movement, our calories are consumed, we grow stronger every day in the saddle and consume more water than sitting in a room.

Bicycle life is an essential ingredient of life on our planet. There is plenty to be excited about - it can even give up many Unexpected surprises while bicycle touring the world, I just tried it in Mongolia! Bicycle touring and cycling anywhere is certainly the secret to youth and the best music your body will ever feel. Even if you can't dance, you can find a partner while cycling - never missing a step, because it is infinitely easier to ride.

The mountains are rising but it's a slight grade and the energy put into the legs is consistent, as the wind is warm and Northwest, it prevails to provide a soothing drying effect today in Mongolia.

That's today's journal from Mongolia - I live to ride my bicycle.

More adventure journals coming soon! These are my daily thoughts, reflections and experiences written while mountain bike touring across Outer Mongolia.

Thanks for visiting the Korean-World, a blog about Micro-Adventures, Cycling and Exploring from mountain bikes. Hope you enjoy these experiences too!