FINALLY... MONGOLIA!

We slept in the car that night, third in line at the border behind a couple of big trucks, and woke up in the morning with a long queue trailing us. Word had it that some rally teams had gotten stuck at the Mongolian border for days, but luckily we didn't have any hold-ups. We got in early, and would've made it through quicker if the Mongolian customs officials hadn't taken an early lunch. They disappeared right after stamping our passports, and left us parked in front of a locked gate with a handful of other teams. 

A small village straddled the road just past the checkpoint, so we walked in with a few people to find some food. Ten of us crowded into a dim shanty and had mutton dumplings and tea for lunch. JP ran back to the car and got our last melon which we shared with everyone, including our hosts, for dessert.

It was almost 3 by the time we got back to our car, and once we broke through the gate and hit the open road, we tumbled into a Mongolian postcard - yak herds and scattered yurts, rolling hills backed by craggy mountains, with majestic snowcapped peaks looming behind all. The steppe was a brownish-green moonscape, a grassy expanse, with not a tree in sight. 

And it was true what we'd heard: as soon as we crossed into Mongolia the pavement ended. From any hilltop, looking down a roadway across a valley, we could see paths weaving across the earth - loosely braided strands of dirt and gravel. Rarely was there just one option for passage. At times the weave was taut, squeezing through a narrow valley, at times it was half a mile wide or more. We drove in a general direction, guided by a loose network of rugged trails dictated by the landscape. There was no centerline, no left-side or right-side driving - just pick a line and go. Even along the limited stretches of tarmac, dusty tracks paralleled the road. The traffic was sporadic and thin, and plumes of dust trailed every vehicle.

We reached Ulgii late afternoon. It was a bleak town, our first taste of civilization since crossing the border. We zig-zagged until we found a place to buy some groceries, passing a few other rally cars along the way, and exchanged nods with other equally weathered road trippers. After stocking up on food we left town and drove into the steppe to find a place to camp.

Tolbo Lake revealed itself following a gradual climb to a sweeping pass, and after a bumpy descent, we turned off the road and made our way towards the grassy lakeshore. The moon was waxing, almost full, and crept up from behind the hills opposite the setting sun. It was a celestial teeter-totter, and the cosmic counterparts briefly faced-off before swapping places in the evening sky. The moon arched up into an almost cloudless ether, over a distant snowcapped range which still held a coral tint from the crepuscular glow. The tranquil lake reflected the heavens, and a quiet chill arrived with nightfall. All was peaceful on the steppe.