Swiss Friend and I are friends for many reasons. I mean yes, we didn’t exactly have a smorgasbord of friend options out in Western Mongolia, but the bigger reason is that we’re very like-minded when it comes to travel and adventures, particularly the kind that stem from bad ideas–which, arguably, is how we both wound up in Mongolia in the first place. So when I suggested we spend part of our time traveling together at a hot spring in Central Mongolia, and she suggested we get to said hot spring by horse, it was a match made in travel buddy heaven.
We started off our journey by catching the bus from UB to Tsetserleg in Arkhangai Province, Central Mongolia. Our hotel was the absolutely brilliant Fairfield Guesthouse, which has all the amazing things like hot water and carpets that get regularly cleaned. After months of Mongolia, we were so blown away by the concept of a real mattress and complimentary tea service that when we discovered our rooms came with towels for the shower, we collapsed in giggly-crying fits on our respective queen-sized beds. And then recovered by taking really long, really hot showers. One day, when I’m rich and famous and have developed an inexplicable fondness for snails, please remind me of the time the prospect of a fluffy towel made me cry. I will humbly laugh in your face and then have my manservant Claude escort you from my villa.
After that, it was dinner and exploration time! Tsetserleg boasts many attractions, like traffic circles:
Giant Buddhas in front of temples.
And something called the “Divine Enlightenment Achievement Lane.”
Either I did it wrong, or it’s broken.
Whatever, climbed mountain.
The next day, Swiss Friend and I were picked up from the guesthouse ON TIME by our driver, that’s how amazing Fairfield is. We drove about 10k out of town to a little row of gers, where all the horses were fighting amongst themselves for the privileges of bearing us for two days.
It was while we were hanging out watching our guide and the ger people chase horses around that Swiss Friend and I met Weird American Couple who, though perfectly nice, were not nearly as impressed with the guesthouse as we were and kind of dickish about it. They were dickish about a lot of things, including how long it was taking their guide to get their horses together. Luckily for us, though, their guide spoke perfect English, which we needed when we discovered that our guide had no idea where we were going or how long we were going for. We weren’t very sad to see Weird American Couple go, but we were sad they took their guide with them.
After they left, our guide ran around doing Important Guide Stuff while we befriended our horses and debated whether or not we were actually going to make it to the hot springs. At any rate, it was too late to back out, and we’re not ones for backing out anyway.
Eventually, we were off on our noble steeds, Freddie (Mercury) and Bruce (Springsteen).
Day 1 of our horse trek saw us traversing various rivers, mountains, forests, and valleys, all from the backs of our little Mongol ponies.
Turns out it’s not so easy to take pictures from the back of a horse, especially when your camera sucks and said horse is dancing around in circles because God forbid he be more than five feet away from inside Bruce’s butt at any give point in time. But I got some decent ones.
One of the my favorite things about Mongolia was how often landscapes caused me to reevaluate my life. This trek had me reevaluating every ten minutes.
It didn’t take us very long to realize that our guide had zero interest in what we did with the horses as long as we didn’t fall off of them.
This lead to various meanderings away from the route, sing-a-longs, and the occasional Freddie v. Bruce speed face-off which our guide more or less ignored. At one point I went galloping past the guide while hollering like a madwoman and he turned to Swiss Friend and said “…Real Mongol woman.” Good news, ladies. All you need to do to be a real Mongol woman is not fall off your horse.
The only part of Day 1 that was mildly unpleasant was right at the end, when we rode the Arkhangai Mosquito World Fair, the multitudes of which welcomed us by attempting to kills us. I was wearing jeans which saved me, but poor Swiss Friend was not.
Thankfully we rode through the mosquito attack relatively quickly, and not too long afterwards arrived at the hot springs.
The “hot springs,” as it turns out, is like, two inches of water that comes out of the ground straight from hell because it’s ridiculously hot.
They mix it in with cold water and pump it into the baths, which we jumped right into because we’d been riding for seven hours and deserved it, goddamit.
We rented a ger for the night and passed out, but not before discovering where Frodo Baggins’ Mongol cousins live.
We kicked off the next morning by wandering around the ger camp and attempting to emotionally prepare to ride again.
Day 2 was much the same as Day 1, except this time we were starting off tired and sore. Also, we switched horses because Bruce’s enthusiasm for life was making Swiss Friend nervous.
We also took a slightly different route back, one that required much more scrabbling up mountains with our ponies.
Notable moments from Day 2 included galloping Bruce through a herd of yaks, which is an excellent way to wake yourself up in the morning.
After six hours of riding, we finally made it back to the guesthouse…
Our guide vanished with the horses so we treated ourselves with hot showers, at which point we discovered that Swiss Friend, on our jaunt through the Mosquito World Fair, had been bitten an impressive 192 times, just on her legs.
We were also somewhat surprised to run into Weird American Couple at the guesthouse, who informed us that they had cut their trip short because their butts hurt, the nomads they stayed with didn’t feed them vegetables, and because they really wanted prune juice. Swiss Friend started calling them the “prune douches,” and almost broke me.
The verdict: seriously amazing. Central Mongolia is what everyone thinks of when they hear “Mongolia,” and it was really amazing to see and experience it from the back of a horse. My suggestion is be a bad-ass, not a prune douche. Bug spray wouldn’t hurt either.