Mongolia: Aesthetics of Decay

Words and Photos by Greg

There was a timelessness that crept into my feelings about Mongolia as we pedaled across its wide spaces. A sense that life there has continued to be very much as it has been. That the grass, the horses, sheep, goats and yaks remain. That herders still follow cycles of seasons. That lives both cling to and thrive on traditions that have rolled forward out of a dark past, through waves of glory, through times of obscurity, through hardship and plenty. Through growth and decay.

I saw shadows of decay that led me to believe more deeply in this long continuity. Hide and bone. Wood and straw. These discards of life traced an arc within the cycle. Sun whitened bone becomes dust becomes grass becomes horse becomes bare bone again, bleaching under the sun.

There were shadows, too, of spiritual worlds. Sacred places, high places, peaks and passes were marked with ovoo, heaps of rocks or sticks, perhaps littered with decaying offerings, small bills or coins, trinkets, bones, glass, liquor, and usually fluttering with strips of blue sky silk. These reached upward and backward through time to deep connections with shamanistic worship of those high places and the wide sky. And Buddhist temples, built, perhaps, to house a sense of the eternal, were decaying beautifully.

Many of the more recent ambitions for improving upon the nomadic life are already falling into ruin. Roads and bridges. Rail cars and industrial buildings. The roughly constructed basketball hoops that stand against the dreams of the youth. The plastic, glass and aluminum from the products of better lives lay heaped and decaying, scattered over the steppe. There is a catch. The bones and hides and fat of sheep may rot within the life of a man or woman. But plastic, glass and aluminum will not be turned so quickly. The arc of their decay reaches far into an unknown future.

The country strives to change, to move "forward". There have been and there will be improvements. And there have been and there will be failures. As in my own country, the results of many of those attempts lay crumbling and bleaching under the sun.





Offerings of blue sky silk connect with a long history of shamanism.




Temples I saw were decaying with grace.










Basketball hoops sprouted from many ger camps. This dilapidated one was near an abandoned camp.


Bridges seem necessary only for cars, trucks and motorcycles. Herds and herders do well without for all but the largest rivers.




Industry in Mongolia seems to have arrived in fits and starts. In the country and small towns, I saw much more falling into ruin than productive in any obvious way.




Hot stones filled a lamb carcass as a means of cooking it. The discarded heap will easily return to the earth.


Discards from more modern feasting will linger.

The Mongol Hordes

Words and photos by Greg

The Mongols are most famous for exploits that took place 800 years ago when the horse-mounted nomads took over most of the world. (Or so I hear. I wasn't there.) The people are justifiably proud of the accomplishments of their forebears, but their connection to those times has grown thin. Today Mongolia seems to be charging forward from centuries of less dramatic history.

The most visible charge of the modern Mongol is that from a grass-and-muscle powered rural lifestyle to an oil-and-gas powered urban economy. Close to half of Mongolia's small population now lives in urban centers. The dominance of animal husbandry is giving way to mining and market economy. Mongolia is at an interesting crossroads in its history. These photos give a sample of the mix of tradition and change that are affecting the people.

Note: If you've missed the previous posts about my mountain biking trip to Mongolia, please see Mongolia by Mountain Bike and Mongolia: Shadows and Light.

Our van driver "Kamakazi" poses in a battle helmet. I'm unsure whether the ancient Mongols would have had less or more reason to smile.


The five traditional herd animals were horses, yaks, sheep, goats and camels.




In Ulaan Baatar today, the common herd is automotive.


For many Mongols, wide open spaces have been traded for the grey Communist angles of the Soviet-inspired city architecture.


Reliable transport in the traditional sense.


A resurgence of Buddhism has followed the change from Communist rule.


We witnessed the pageantry of the Mongolian Honor Guard, here preparing to welcome US vice president Biden whose visit seemed to be based on the possibility of Mongolia storing US nuclear waste.


In the countryside, I saw a mix of horses and motorcycles used for both transport and herding.



The traditional Mongolian nomad's ger (tent) - now with solar panel and satellite dish.


While we camped one evening, this gentleman came strolling across the steppe to our camp towing his son in a toy armored vehicle. He stayed to visit while our mechanic worked on our bikes.




One fine day we came across a local festival. There was no visible "town" of any kind. Just a small collection of gers and a crowd of people and horses. The kind locals invited us to attend, inviting us into the festival tent where we probably broke every social rule as we partook of airag (fermented mare's milk) and an assortment of cheeses and meats.




We watched traditional Mongolian wrestling. The wrestler on the left wears official wresting attire, but this competition allowed any attire. Note the judges who hold competitor's hats. (Unofficial explanation for the open-fronted vests of the official outfit is that it "keeps the women out" of the competition. The men don't want to get hurt.)


We had missed the horse race portion of the festival, but were able to see the awards. Medals, certificates, and milk poured onto the horses.


Towns and Provincial Centers like this one, Tsetserleg, all seemed to feature colorful roofs, high stockade-like fences, and few cars.


Laundry day at the ger.


First day of school in Ulaanbaatar. Opportunities are changing for the youth.


Students socialize in Sukhbaatar Plaza. Urban fashions and cell phones are the accepted norm.


Tourism is growing under the long shadow of Chinggis Khan.


Many of the New Urban Mongols seem to be doing well, but many more are struggling. These ladies sell wares along a busy sidewalk.


I was told that most Mongolians still have ties to the countryside and long-held traditions through relatives. It seems that these ties can only grow thinner as Mongolia moves into the future.


These young horsemen are inheriting a long legacy of pastoral nomadism. At at time when it may be disappearing.

Mongolia: Shadows and Light

by Greg

My travels in Mongolia were not exactly an eco-tour; seven bicycle tourists with seven staff members and three Russian-made four-wheel drive vans. This mode of travel differed from the bicycle touring I've done in the past. But did have plenty in common with road trips that Trina and I take in her truck with our bikes along. Riding, camping, and all the luxuries of, well, camping, carried along in the motor vehicles. With added layers of luxury, like a staff cook and cook's assistant, plus a guide to lead the ride, three drivers for the vans and van repair. And, perhaps most importantly in this case, an English speaking translator and cultural guide.

I've never traveled with a translator and cultural guide before. I have to say I liked it. My usual kind of trip is envisioned as more of a Man-In-Nature sort of adventure. But there have been times in the past when my foolish choices have resulted in a Man-vs-Unknown-Language-and-Culture adventure that overwhelmed the potential Man-In-Nature enjoyment. It really was a good thing to have someone to translate the language, explain cultural perceptions, expound upon geography and history, and to generally shed light on the overall experience.

Once out in the sweeping countryside, I found that the landscape did a pretty good job of shedding light on itself. I hope these photos help illustrate that point.

The capital city of Ulaanbaatar was both surprisingly cosmopolitan and fashionable as well as frantic, convoluted, and seemingly under construction and demolition at the same time.


I'm never particularly comfortable in cities, so it was good to put some distance and perspective (and some trees) between me and the urban squalor.


Riders on the silvery rain-soaked route.


We saw only a small portion of the whole country on our journey so it is inappropriate to generalize. But the rumored treeless expanses weren't quite as treeless as I'd imagined. Pines covered the moist north slopes of many of the mountains, and rivers were often lined with broadleaf trees.




Both cloud shadows and herds of sheep, goats, yaks and horses poured over the mountainsides. Though Mongolia is the least densely populated country in the world and though the views seem limitless, we were rarely out of sight of a ger (tent) or a herdsman.








The weather was generally cool and we were teased by storms, but we only rode during a lengthy downpour on one day.




Scattered along our route were lasting signs of an ancient and little understood bronze age horse culture. Grant explores these stone circles and mounds.


Herdsman and dogs in the growing shadows of evening.