Still, as it is only 200-300m high, a determined hiker could easily scale the largest sand dune of the mighty Gobi Desert – that vast, arid region in northern China and southern Mongolia – in an hour or two.
It turns out for this writer that the greatest challenge lies not in the fabled sand dunes themselves, but in the 700km journey, spanning several days, from the Mongolian capital of Ulaanbaatar to Khongoriin Els. The trip was marked by rattling journeys aboard a 26-year-old UAZ minibus and a harsh, barren environment.
Venturing out of Ulaanbaatar to its distant rugged countryside can be costly for visitors compared to most Asian countries. Travellers have to hire a local driver for at least US$100 (RM422) a day – an all-inclusive package that includes the driving fee, fuel costs, basic food, and overnight camping by the roadside.
Most passengers then pay an additional US$40-$50 per night at “ger camps” – the iconic circular tents ubiquitous in the Mongolian landscape – for a more comfortable and culturally immersive experience.
I was fortunate enough to find a group of locals who were recruiting extra passengers on their filming expedition to offset travelling costs, thereby reducing my expenses by over 50%.
The majority of the journey was spent driving across dirt trails in our rackety Russian minibus. As most of the roads beyond the capital remain unpaved, our vehicle could only cover roughly 50km per hour.
To while away time in the remote desert, rounds of vodka and local beer were copiously served and consumed. Even the motorcyclists engaged in the questionable habit of taking a liquor shot on each break, which happened not infrequently.
On the third day, we rested near the Gurvan Saikhan mountain ranges, also known as the Three Beauties of Gobi. According to legend, three beautiful sisters once lived in a nearby village, and a wealthy merchant ambitiously vowed to wed all three.
Refusing to yield to his wealth and lust, the sisters transformed into the mountain ranges, thus immortalising their awe-inspiring beauty and indomitable will.
At dusk, as our motorcyclists raced across the gentle slope at the foot of the rocky massifs silhouetted by the flaming sun, their dashing shadows left me with a cinematic imprint of this storied landscape.
Mongolians seem to be very in tune with their nomadic heritage – most of them are comfortable camping overnight in the wilderness at a moment’s notice.
Case in point: once it became impractical to drive at night, our driver would simply swerve into the nearest barren space. As such, our camping sites were always within view of the “main expressway”.
The Gobi Desert is known as the “waterless place” in Mongolian, and it certainly lives up to its name: water sources are nonexistent except in the few modern establishments scattered across the desert, making conservation a necessity.
For tasks such as cleaning dishes, our group ingeniously used wet tissues with a meagre splash of H2O. But the most awkward issue of all – at least for a person hailing from an urban area – is the scarcity of proper toilet facilities.
Working toilet bowls are a rare luxury in the vast desert, and we had to adapt to the – ahem – “charming” pit latrines found in rest stops and petrol stations. Even so, such convenience (or inconvenience) might not be within immediate reach if one’s bowels began to churn for the wrong reason.
Desperate for relief, one is left with no choice but the surrounding wilderness. Hey, everywhere is a toilet if you’re brave enough!
Truly, the Gobi Desert is not meant for those who have been pampered by modern comforts. If you fall into this group, you might be better off heading instead to the northern side of the country, famed for its frozen lakes and reindeer herds.
Despite these challenges, the beauty of Gobi still attracts countless visitors annually, and fuels the tourism boom enjoyed by Mongolia in recent years.
Check back in tomorrow for part two of this story.