Let’s get lost – episode three

Let’s get lost – episode three

What happened so far?

In episode one, when told that I was going to Mongolia to meet some airline executives for my job, I decided to lose myself in the silent wilderness of that country. Before leaving I did some research and chose as destination a place that even Google Maps fails to locate, named Gun-Galuut Nature Reserve.

In episode two, after arriving in Ulaanbataar, I meet mysterious Mr. Batar, who delivers me a rugged Toyota Land Cruiser. On an early Saturday morning, I and my British workmate Mark leave the town; throughout the whole day, we will explore a scarcely inhabited territory while trying not to lose our track. We also become familiar with the solid beauty of Mongolian horses, roaming free in the wildland.


Being right there

In the movie The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, Ben Stiller plays a middle-class man, trapped in a 9 to 5 job he does not like anymore. For a succession of unforeseen circumstances, one day he quits his office and embarks on an adventure on the tracks of Sean O’Connell, a legend photographer who disappeared while hunting the animal whose image no-one has ever captured, the snow leopard.

When finally Walter Mitty meets Sean O’Connell on a frozen Himalayan ridge, the snow leopard is there, in the middle of the zoom lens, just one click away. Oddly, Sean O’Connell, although mesmerized by the unique vision, is not shooting, and this dialog happens:

Walter Mitty: When are you going to take it [the snow leopard shot]?
Sean O’Connell: Sometimes I don’t. If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it.
Walter Mitty: Stay in it?
Sean O’Connell: Yeah. Right there. Right here. It’s gone [the snow leopard]

In the strange days we live, when was last time we were “right there”? How much “right there” experience we allow ourselves in one of our average weeks? Are those moments something we look forward to, or we prefer to escape them and comfortably choose the distraction, being it social networks, messengers, noise, other people opinions, scary news on TV, information overflow, a job that does not excite us…

And so we are, me and Mark, my British workmate, in a place named Gun-Galuut, in Mongolia. For a whole day, we have been breathing fresh air and wandering across the vast grassland. Since the moment we entered the Nature Reserve, every trace of human presence has vanished. We continue venturing deeper into this unknown territory, using the profile of the hills or the clouds in the sky to locate ourselves and hoping we will be able to find our way back. All around us, Mongolian horses roam peaceful and free.


 

 


The track becomes rougher and now insinuates at the feet of low promontories, covered with sharp rock fragments. Afternoon sun is going down and the lights around us change, giving the landscape a more dramatic pitch. I decide to look for a viewpoint and see on our left a steep path leading to the edge of a higher hill, possibly accessible to our Toyota. The full power of our four-wheel drive is barely sufficient to climb our way to the top. The car pants and progresses slowly as we gain altitude and approach the end of the ascent. Finally, we get there; I stop the car, turn off the engine,  pull the handbrake and get off, followed by Mark. We are on level ground now: in front of us, the upwards path that took us there finishes into a vertical rocky wall. On the right, at a distance of about fifty meters, we see a natural terrace ending on a cliff top and I start walking in that direction, instinctively attracted by the panoramic opening.

As I get closer, my point of view changes and a chain of mountains starts to appear at a great distance. I am maybe twenty meters away when I see the horse and, at first, I do not understand. He lays on the ground, on a side, you would tell that he sleeps but he is dead. It had to happen not long before, as the hair is still shiny and the body is in a perfect state, except for a little scar on the head, probably caused by a scavenger bird.

Now I am just next to the dead horse and appreciate the harmony of his figure. While I walk around him, the first thing that awakens irrational thoughts is the position of the body. It lies exactly at the middle of the half-circle shaped terrace; his head looks at the view opening from the height of the cliff on hundreds of kilometers of emptiness.

I look at Mark, who has not made it to the terrace and is standing a dozen meters away, staring in my direction.

The second thing is the ascent and how hard I had to push the Land Cruiser in order to get there. For a dying animal, that had to be a hell of an effort.

The wind blows and the sun has gone down; the air is chilled now.

The third thing is the dead horse position, the effort to get there, the absolute majesty of the landscape.

I keep turning slowly around him, observing the scene from many angles, immersed in my thoughts. The view in front of me is the most beautiful I have ever seen. Far ahead, hundreds of identical peaks, crowned by bright white clouds rise up to the sky. The physical space between the dead horse and the mountains is an immense empty prairie where the animal lived in freedom from the very moment he first stood on the ground to his last day when he decided to climb there and look at all that again from a height.

As I continue standing right there, in front of that mystical scene, lights and composition remind me the most accomplished Caravaggio paintings. I have my camera with me, in my backpack and I am looking at award-winning photography material but there is something bigger around me on that cliff and I just want to stay in it.

I look at the horse for the last time, then I look at the far away mountains, turn around and walk away. When I pass by Mark, he follows me and asks: “What do we do?”. I can only tell: “We go home, man. We go home now”.

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Let’s get lost – episode one

Let’s get lost – episode one

This is, among other things, a travel story. It is about two trips to Mongolia that I did in January and April 2017. As the story is long, I decided to break it into three parts, for an easier reading. I will publish the following two parts on Mondays, at an interval of two weeks.


Where I am coming from

I do not always feel comfortable in modern times because today society and lifestyle tear us continuously apart from what really counts. I feel that we invest a lot of time, money, energy, striving to achieve objectives that do not make us happy. Finding joy in a world that surrounds us with noise and buries us in clutter is not a simple exercise.

In the past, these feelings materialized in a sense of frustration. With time, I learned to focus on what makes a difference for me. I am happy when my dear ones have what they need to live the life they want. I am good when I am surrounded by positive people, when someone cares about me. I like when the wind blows freely, waves crash on a sandbank, the sun sets on the sea. This is all I believe in, the rest does not count.

Combining my personal beliefs with a sustainable job is easier said than done. I would like to do something that inspires people and transform the world into a better place; Today, I am falling short on these objectives but no-one is perfect.

Instead, I work in a company that provides Information Technology solutions to airlines; in my day to day working life, I speak to very different people sharing a common mission: flying aircrafts around the globe. I travel and learn a lot and one day maybe I will find a way to make good use of these experiences. Recently, I heard a quote in the movie “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty“, that seemed a nice way to reconcile my job and my quest for happiness. It says: “To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life”. I would argue that life does not need another purpose than being lived every day at the best of our possibilities. Still, the quote sounds overall right.

So as I said, this is, among other things, a travel story.

In January 2017, my work brought me to spend two days in Ulaanbaatar to meet local airline executives. In my imaginary map of the world, before that short trip, Mongolia occupied an unreachable corner: I read many stories and had seen countless images of its open spaces, where horses roamed free and nomadic populations continued migrating on ancestral routes. The day I flew there, I remember hearing the call of the wild as the Boeing 737 approached the landing strip: I was stuck at the plane window looking at the land below. It was white, endless, breath-taking. One day I ventured out for a short walk outside with my workmates; the sun was shining in a wonderful blue sky and the temperature was -36 degrees Celsius. A memorable moment.

When three months later I was sent back to Mongolia, the call resonated again and I decided to listen. Instead of preparing the business meetings, I spent the days before my departure dreaming of a day trip into the wild: at least for a short while, I wanted to get modern life distractions out of my way.

As I started thinking of logistics, one thing appeared sure: if  I wanted to explore Mongolia outback, I needed a reliable car; I remembered the advice of a French friend, who crossed the Sahara desert many times and sailed all oceans; he owns four Toyota Land Cruiser and always told me he would trust his “Toys”, as he called them, under all circumstances. Alcohol addiction shrank his horizons that today are constrained in the slim volume of a “verre a Pastis”, but this is another story and I prefer to think of him as the brave captain he used to be.

 

After a quick search, I got in touch with a woman named Deegi, who promised to rent me a Land Cruiser 76 in Ulaanbataar.

To pick a destination, I ruled out places recommended by all websites when searching for “day trip Ulaanbataar”. My attention was caught instead by Wikipedia very succinct description of a place named Gun-Galuut Nature Reserve:

“130 km (81 miles) southeast of Ulaanbaatar, has a great diversity of ecosystems even though it has a comparatively small area. The complex of high mountains, steppes, rivers, lakes and wetlands are kept in their original condition. Visitors to Gun-Galuut see vast steppes seeming to meet the sky, the imposing mountains of Baits and Berkh, the homeland of rare creatures, Ikh-Gun and Ayaga lakes, a paradise of birds, Kherlen, the longest river of Mongolia and the Tsengiin Burd wetland, where water and wetland birds lay their eggs.”

The call of the wild resonated more distinctly; when Google Maps failed to locate it, I knew that was the place I had been looking for.

A Toyota Land Cruiser 76 waiting for me in Ulaanbataar, I was headed to Gun-Galuut Nature Reserve. The dice were ready to roll.


What happens next?

In episode two, we will finally arrive in Ulaanbataar, meet a mysterious man and embark on an adventurous trip in the outback.