“Mongolian people have special relationship with horse,” explained our guide, Gerelsuren, herself an avid horse rider, as our car violently lurched into Ulanbaataar’s impossibly chaotic traffic. “Before car everyone had horse. Now everyone drive car like riding horse. This song,” she said, pointing to the stereo blaring rhythmic folk music, “it is also about a horse.”
Mongolian horseman leading his ponies through Terelj National Park
It's the connection between people and horses that defines the Mongolian’s traditional way of life, which remains nomadic even in the 21st century. As a means of herding animals, transport or as a source of food, horses are incredibly important; locals even drink a special brew made of fermented mare’s milk. The hardy breed of steppe ponies allowed the Mongolians, under the leadership of Chinngis (or Ghengis) Khan, to conquer vast swathes of land. Local horsemen went on to amass an empire that — at its height in the 13th and 14th centuries — stretched from Korea to Bulgaria and from Siberia to South Asia, about half the world’s population.
Terelj National Park, only an hour from the capital but worlds apart
An hour or so from UB— the common lingo to describe Mongolia’s capital city — we arrived at Guru Ger Eco Camp. Our arrival timed with a break in the weather; as morning mist lifted, we got our first look at the sweeping valley, which was scattered with unique boulder formations and the distinctive white domes of nomadic Ger tents. The next few days would include freezing temperatures, but beautiful blue skies.
Given its proximity to UB, there’s the potential for Terelj to become overly touristy; we noticed several large resorts under construction. But having spent the past five days on a train, Jen and I both found the park peaceful and relaxing. Activities centered around the aptly-named Turtle Rock, and there was plenty to do: horse-riding, hiking to hilltop monasteries and visiting with nomadic families who call this area home.
Turtle rock: focal point of the Terelj valley
In the hills above Turtle Rock, Aryabala Monastery affords spectacular views of the surrounding valley. Built in the ‘90s, this Buddhist retreat reflects the reinvigoration of Mongolian spiritual life that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union. From 1921 to 1990, Soviet Russia dominated all sectors of Mongolian life: 1930s propaganda accused locals of working as spies on behalf of Russia’s rival Japan. Mass arrests followed, resulting in purges costing thousands of lives. Monks, in particular, were targeted and many religious institutions were destroyed.
Sweeping views from the summit of Aryabala Monastery
In 1989, democratic groups staged protests and hunger strikes that toppled the local communist party, leading to Mongolia’s first democratic elections the following year. Under Soviet control, all aspects of country’s cultural heritage had been routinely suppressed, including studies of Mongolian history. Since the 90s, Mongolians have enthusiastically embraced their cultural legacy, case in point being a colossal 40-meter-high statue of Chinggis Khan, built in 2007. You can walk to the top of the horse’s head and visit a small underground museum, though a power outage (which seems to be a common problem in the area) meant we had to explore this part by candlelight.
Love it or hate it, 40 meters of Mongolian pride: The Chinggis Khan monument
After two days in the ger camp, we headed back to UB, where we were staying at the city's fanciest hotel — The Best Western — and UB’s tallest building. Ulaanbataar is generally a traffic-snarled jumble of high rises and concrete apartment blocks, but even this town looks nice from the 25th floor bar, where we sat with Genghis Khan beer near a framed map of Khan’s 13-century conquests as the sun set over Sukhbaatar square. Mongolia has always been a dream destination for me, and the countryside in particular— with its stunning scenery, friendly people and cosy gers — certainly didn’t disappoint.
All the moderns comforts in this 21st Century Ger
Tom Mountford