Mud and sand became our unwelcome companions, forcing us to ditch our original plan and veer towards the imposing Jargalant Khairkhan. Its peak, oh-so-close yet twenty kilometers of mystery away, mocked us with its majestic presence. Satellite imagery, our sole guide, felt more like a cryptic treasure map than a reliable navigation tool.
Kilometers bled into one another as we skirted Khar-Us Lake and followed a babbling stream. The terrain, a chaotic mix of sand and rock, screamed “high-clearance vehicles only,” though locals, ever the adventurous souls, somehow managed with their trusty Priuses. After what felt like an eternity (or ten kilometers), we took a gamble on a promising car track, a testament to the power of satellite-aided decision-making. The gamble paid off, leading us to the mountain’s base and a scattering of yurts. Our chariot, however, could go no further, bowing down before a steeper slope.
With the summit still a daunting ten kilometers away, we pitched camp and whipped up dinner. As fate would have it, a friendly Mongolian couple from a nearby yurt rolled up on their motorbike. Despite the language barrier resembling a game of charades, we managed to establish a connection. We learned the nearby lake was more puddle than paradise, dashing our swimming dreams, and in return, gifted their five children with chocolate, a universal language understood by all. While our attempt to glean summit route intel was hampered by limited vocabulary, the encounter left us feeling warm and fuzzy inside.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, we rose with the birds, fueled by a healthy dose of “must climb that mountain” determination. Our initial plan involved an ambitious climb up the ridge behind camp, a one-hour endeavor that quickly revealed itself to be significantly more “one-hour-ish” than initially advertised. Realizing this route would test the limits of our sanity (and daylight), we regrouped at the P50 bump and formulated a new strategy. Descending back into the valley and following the stream upwards might not have been the most glamorous option, but it certainly beat battling the never-ending rollercoaster of the ridge.
Each passing hour brought the summit tantalizingly closer, yet frustratingly out of reach. The terrain, thankfully, remained relatively user-friendly, with the occasional shepherd’s trail offering a helping hoof (or should we say, “shoe”). We conquered a small waterfall at the valley’s end and tackled a steeper slope, finally finding ourselves back on the ridge, now within striking distance of the peak. Patches of snow made an appearance, but nothing our trusty boots couldn’t handle.
Standing atop the snow-free summit, marked by a lone cairn, we were rewarded with a panorama that could knock your socks off (metaphorically, of course, as proper footwear is crucial in these parts). Clear skies only enhanced the vast, rugged beauty stretching out before us. After a well-deserved victory break, we began the descent, carrying with us the memories of conquering this remote peak and a newfound appreciation for the power of adapting plans on the fly.
This marked our seventh Mongolian ultra peak, and let’s just say, the trip was already exceeding our wildest expectations. With a thousand kilometers still separating us from Ulaanbaatar and a few days left before our flight home, we set our sights on another ultra prominent peak, Otgon Tenger Uul. Stay tuned for more tales of Mongolian mishaps and, hopefully, more majestic views!
