Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I looked at the map and saw that I had indeed diverged a long way from the line.
I'd been in a dream world and had unthinkingly followed the motorcyclist's trail
through a major intersection and under the railway through a stock underpass.
'I'm sorry, I just wasn't thinking, I suppose.'
'Yeah, I know. It's just that you didn't even have the bloody map! Next time,
just wait for me can't you, before you go making that sort of decision?'
It was fifteen kilometres back to the intersection where I'd made the wrong turn.
The next morning we decided that we'd try our luck with the motorbike tracks,
anyway. We pedalled on blind, still heading away from the railway, but we hadn't
gone far when we ran across a broken-down four-wheel drive by the roadside.
An elegant-looking Mongolian lady was sitting inside and a pair of male shoes
and trousers were sticking out from under the car. The lady greeted us politely in
Russian. Tim extended his hand and she winced a little as she shook it. I tried to
look at Tim from her perspective and realised with a start that neither of us had
washed for over two weeks! The man wriggled out from under the engine and care-
fully wiped his hands on the back of his well-padded trousers.
'Where are you boys off to then?' he asked jovially in flawless Russian. 'I'm a
trader - I import produce to Ulaan Baatar from over the border in China, and I've
never seen anyone like you on anything like those out here before!'
We explained our story, then asked him whether the road we were on would take
us to Ulaan Ule.
'To Ulaan Ule?
Ho, ho, ho
. No, it won't!
Ho, ho, ho
,' he laughed. 'This road
takes you directly to China.
Ho, ho
. If you want to go to Ulaan Ule, you have to
go about twenty kilometres back along the way you've come and then follow the
railway.
Ho, ho, ho
.'
Tim gave me a meaningful look and I swore at the motorbike rider under my
breath. We weren't carrying enough water to go directly to China.
'Do you know if there are any other roads which might take us toward Ulaan
Ule from
here
?' I asked hopefully.
He chuckled again and waved an arm expansively in the direction of the feature-
less plains to the east. 'There are lots of tracks out there, boys. I'm sure that
one
of
them might take you to Ulaan Ule, but which it is, I cannot say.'
He said goodbye, his wife gave us a couple of fat, red apples and they drove
off, leaving us in a cloud of dust. We discussed the situation briefly, crunched the
delicious juicy apples, then pedalled on - still towards China - and ready to take
the first turnoff we could find.
