The border crossing was the usual mindless process with unsmiling Russian border guards. I think this lot must have been being punished with a stint in outer Mongolia for some previous transgression, because they were, almost to a man and woman, particularly useless and rather thick to boot. For example, they couldn't work out from the paperwork given to us by their comrades at the Kazakh crossing which crossing we had entered Russia. They kept saying to me 'Kyrgyzstan! Kyrgyzstan!' despite the fact that we had not been to Kyrgyzstan, and perhaps more to the point, Russia does not share a border with said 'stan.
Getting out of Russia was taking longer and taking more effort than getting into the place!
Classic Russian customer friendly notice. The border bylaws in cyrillic
..and there's more!
impressive bug body count by this stage. At our previous nights camp the grasshoppers were the size of sparrows and totally unafraid of humans Rory even poked one on the nose and it didn't budge from staring at him.
There was a complete scrum to get pole border crossing position
...and it looked like we could be in for a long wait in the baking heat
Eventually, at last, we left Russia. Funny place really. The Mongolian border was friendlier and helpful, but no less bureaucratic. But remarkably we crossed the border in a record time for us - 3.5 hours in all. UB was in our sights!
The roads started well, a velvet soft ribbon of fresh black tarmac, but then, as every mile went by got worse and worse and worse. The funniest one was a part where they were repairing the main road and had literally poured tarmac like lava on the countryside beside it, creating unto eight different roads which you used according to your fancy. Holes the size of cars appeared and it was funny (if you were a front seat passenger as I was at this time) and stressful (if you were the driver). The Nostromo, as always, dealt with everything in her stride.
Norther Mongolia is stunning. Very different from the Siberian side of the border. The landscapes are vast, the hills lush and rolling, and the skies are like no other I have ever seen. Huge, and with the most amazing blues, and white puffy clouds everywhere. Gers (yurts) dot the hillsides and herds of fit and well cared for horses roam everywhere. And little prayer stuppas complete the magic. Absolutely beautiful.
a typical scene in the north Mongolian countryside
'3orc' means stop. Apparently
the most mental road of all. Somewhere outside UB
And finally, at last, the outskirts of Ulaanbaater!
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