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DAY 162 | Mongolia | How To Move The Stars | A bicycle ride around the world · How To Move The Stars | A bicycle ride twice around the world

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  July 25th, 2013 Detour After packing up camp, Mark and I
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  bicycled into the next small town of a few dozen homes.
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  We're looking for a cafe to eat breakfast, but after a short
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  lapse of the village, we concluded there was none.
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  This is where Mark and I parted. He was heading South.
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  I needed to take the road north. We wished each other safe
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  travels. Then he pedaled off and I was on
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  my own again. As I was heading out of town the
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  other direction, a young woman said hello to me.
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  She only spoke a little English but told me a river had flooded
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  the road and only large jeeps could get past.
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  The road must be the same one that distressed the woman at the
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  border yesterday. I would need to find a different
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  route. I thank the woman.
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  Then before I could go, she invited me into our humble
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  wooden home for tea. Several children were in the
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  house, as well as a few adults and a grandmother.
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  The woman who invited me in had three children.
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  Her youngest, a tiny one year old baby, had asthma.
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  I could hear him wheezing while he drank from a bottle in his
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  mother's arms. She told me that she feeds him
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  horse milk to help his lungs. I nodded and for the first time
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  in my life I thought about a horse being milked.
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  Another little boy, perhaps three years old, repeated his
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  one foreign word, singing like a parrot but struggling with the
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  pronunciation. He said kello kello.
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  I sat with the adults. Biscuits and fried cheese were
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  set on the table and I was served a mug of warm Milky tea.
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  The grandmother also told me about the high water.
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  She lives on the other side of the river and said the
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  mosquitoes are very bad right now.
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  I got directions from her to go South to Olgi and loop back
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  around to the north. She also said the people in that
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  area are unfriendly and warned me to be careful.
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  After an hour sitting with the family, we all got up to leave
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  the house together. I was ready to keep going and
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  everyone else needed to check on their animals.
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  The little boy brought me his coat and I had a heartwarming
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  moment helping him get his arms through the sleeves and rolling
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  up the cuffs to free his hands. Taking the grandma's
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  recommendation, I headed South into a slow climb on a packed
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  dirt Rd. The valley stretched out
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  straight ahead of me, rising up to the high pass on the horizon.
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  I climbed for hours as the road became steeper and the surface
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  looser until I was forced to push the last 100 meters to the
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  top. I might have rested there, but I
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  could see the sky beginning to fill with afternoon
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  thunderstorms. Bursts of rain, falling in long
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  white streaks drifted across the dry mountains and broad valley.
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  The town of Ogee was at the bottom of the descent and I felt
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  urged onward to avoid getting wet.
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  The pass was at 8000 feet and I dropped 2500 feet on the way
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  down, starting from the top. The road was freshly paved, long
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  and straight. I rolled without pedaling or
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  turning for nearly an hour. There are no cars or people, and
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  only the grassland and surrounding mountains.
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  Moving along demanded so little of my attention that it became
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  lulled to drowsiness by the slow moving landscape and the white
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  noise of wind across my ears. I nodded off for a moment, sure
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  would have been the time needed for me to lose my balance, but
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  long enough to jolt back awake I re centered the bike under me
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  and kept going. Ogi is a town of 30,000 people
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  spread out across a broad sandy valley.
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  I just reached the outskirts when a man and his teenage son
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  waved me down from their car. He told me he had a guest house
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  so I followed him there. They showed me a single room
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  with rugs covering the walls and floor and there were three
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  single beds. The mattress sagged as much as
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  my hammock, but the room came with dinner and the rain was
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  starting to fall. I told him I would stay.
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  When we began to negotiate the price, the man lowered himself
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  into a Crouch. I looked down at him wondering
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  what he is doing. He beckoned me with a wave to
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  join him and I squatted down to have the conversation.
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  The interaction made me think there aren't going to be many
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  chairs in Mongolia. A group of Russians on a fishing
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  trip arrived for the night in off road vans.
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  We ate dinner together and I talked to one of the men who
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  spoke English. He works with a volunteer group
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  of Russian cardiologists that take trips to Mongolia to care
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  for the people. He said that heart disease is a
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  big problem because the Mongolian diet is almost
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  completely animal based. He gestured at our own dinner,
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  greasy goat meat dumplings prepared by the mother of the
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  house. Healthy or not, they were
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  delicious and I ate a large pile of them.
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  Following dinner, I swapped my bike tires to a pair I've been
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  carrying for the past five months, waiting just for this
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  moment. They have thick, heavy duty
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  tread designed for dirt roads, and after 7000 miles, my old
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  tires were bald, full of cuts and missing chunks of rubber.
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  I felt a sense of accomplishment to have worn them out.
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  This journey has given me the opportunity to indulge in my
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  lifelong fascination of watching things change very slowly.
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  One of my earliest memories, I'm looking at the soles of my shoes
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  to see how the rubber is wearing away and I still do that out
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  here. I'm delighted watching the
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  colors bleach from my panniers, seeing my tire tread wear
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  smooth, and having my clothes fall apart of my body in this
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  way. Very long journey suits me
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  perfectly.