Having managed to time things right so we get to a local festival, having just missed many Nadaam celebrations earlier in the month, the objective of the day was to find the Orkhon Valley Yak Festival. Its exact location on a map was elusive, but riding up the valley until we found a big crowd was sure to be enough. But first, resupply was delayed by shops in town not opening until nine o’clock – which gave a chance to mosey around continuing my fascination with haunting overgrown playgrounds, elaborate fences, and colourful buildings.
I’ve concluded that grass in spaces, without grazing animals, is kept long due to the novelty of grass growing for short stretches of the year when it’s not covered in snow.
But I still find overgrown playgrounds disturbing.
Colourful block wall hiding the town heat plant – this one obviously coal-fired, I assume providing central hot water supply as in other towns and cities we’d visited.
Eventually we’d restocked for two days and began up the valley.
Easy going intially.
Following whatever track we could find became more fun as they wound their way through lava strewn areas.
Plenty of yaks, fittingly.
We could tell we were on the right track due to an uncommonly high number of people dressed in traditional finery riding past on motorcycles.
Still going, but with an ice cream stop in the warmth, surely the festival is to be found before those hills.
Found it!
Yet, in the other direction…
About as much yak action as we saw.
It was difficult to work out what the yak festival was about as the animal seemed barely featured, and disappointingly no yak comestibles to be bought. But it was good fun people watching, the locals that is – despite seeing the most westerners for weeks.
Even some Mongolia wrestling (the national sport), although what we saw seemed mostly posturing, saluting the flag, waving to the crowd and little wrestling.
What wrestling we did see was incomprehensible!
Of course, there was a tricked out old Prius around.
Appealing, but difficult to carry and even worse as a riding shoe.
Enough crowds, time to find somewhere quieter to camp.
Off up a side valley towards the Eight Lakes, a trekking attraction only accessible by foot and hoof.
I was keen to see how far up we could get towards the first lake, but that seemed a non-starter so we turned off and found a nice campsite by a river. Just as tents were going up a student staying nearby came and introduced himself, and was mightily concerned the river would flood overnight and we should seek higher ground.
Spoiler – this area did not flood overnight.
But neither did this one, and the mounds of rock did provide a little shelter from the breeze.
The student recommended we ride further up the valley, so off we went and were not disappointed.
Some good waterfall action along this stretch.
A rare grave marker…
…in the middle of a field.
The valley opened up and just kept going.
Eventually we had to turn for camp and dinner.
Our friend returned and it was interesting to hear of his life as a young student and how he’d done some compulsory national service – border guard in wintry conditions well below freezing point at some mountain outpost sounded no picnic.
But coats such as these helped.
Bit heavy to load on a bike though.
Our new friend spoiled us with clotted cream – finally, some yak products for the day!
Car park view not shabby.
Hudson inspecting the Potts while I try to remember which valley is the Havelock and which is the Clyde at the top of the Rangitata.
Katie soaking Hudson’s cooling jacket – hard work being an active black dog on such days.
Occasionally Hudson wasn’t off covering far more ground than we were; looking back down to the Rangitata.
One of the bigger scour outs down to the Potts.
Hot going, so the occasional swamp provided cooling opportunities for some.
Less mysterious when you’re right next to it.
Spot the tents.
Our exit route for the following day.
Down to Boundary Creek – on the other side of the range from Mystery Lake.
East to Mt Somers Range.
Heading back to camp for dinner, the hills that obscure Mystery Lake obvious here. Behind that, in the shade, the other side of the Potts – roughly showing our route up.
The wind at camp was fickle, but occasionally it dropped – conveniently at sunset.
Arrowsmith Range was a regular point of interest on the horizon throughout the weekend.
Preparing for another sunny day.
But pleasingly we were in the shade of some steep hills for the first five kilometres out, before we joined the Te Araroa trail and turned south-east.
Heading for the nearest extent of the gravel river bed, unfortunately not directly.
Over to Lake Clearwater and its curious village of off-grid holiday homes. Mt Harper on left.
Hudson ever hopeful, little did he know that I’d only just brought enough food for myself.
Back above the Potts again. Getting close now, thankfully as my feet starting to let me know it’s a long time since I’ve walked seventeen kilometres in a day, and over thirty in a twenty-four-ish hours.
Did manage to not get any wetter negotiating these slippery little bridges.
This is completely normal, surely?
Pushing again from here as the surface got slippy and steep.
No pushing down there.
Having crossed that basin, the exit was strangely twisty and not just straight up.
More walking though.
Probably our last time through two thousand metres altitude on the trip, soon dropping to the Orkhon Valley.
Did get some lunch time spectators though, later over the pass two boys on a motorbike were looking for these horses.
Winter stock shelter and yards.
Getting to the pass, briefly back at 2000 m.
It had been a while since we’d had a boggy little push…
We sidled above the valley floor trying to find the best path for the route that had been described to us.
Small diversion, from our overnight diversion, to a highpoint with views of three rivers meeting.
Power lines going in.
We headed up that way to try and find the little visited hot springs Murray from Fairfield had told us about.
A family camping for a couple of weeks came to visit for a bit; communication somewhat easier than usual.
Fairly standard Mongolian camping dinner – fried onions, carrots and capsicum with noodles and some sort of unknown meat.