Unfenced & Unencumbered in the Mongolian Wilderness
Photo by Jesse DeVoe
This past September–October, Explorer X Travel Designer Robyn DeVoe traveled with her new husband, Jesse, on their honeymoon to Mongolia for 3 weeks. Here is their story.
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We zoomed freely across what felt like the moon, in search of our nomadic hosts. I peered out the window at distant camels, wondering what they could possibly find to eat and drink on such an arid landscape. Our guide reached for a pair of binoculars and scoped out all the windows, looking for signs of life. “They were here a month ago,” he said.
With a leaking tire on one side, and diesel fumes clouding the back seat on the other, I felt anxiety building. This was quite possibly the most remote I’d ever been. But as the days wore on, the vastness seemed to shrink, and we began to recognize the abundance of life in what initially seemed so stark.
“If you’re lost, find a herd of livestock, and someone will eventually come.”
This was a rule of the “road.” A term I use loosely here, as there are few paved roads, mostly two-track or flat open steppe you can jet across in a hardy vehicle. We would often find ourselves not entirely sure of our location or direction, sometimes with few landmarks to tell.
But what we did learn, and is widely known by the people traveling across the land here, is that if you find a set of power lines, you can follow them and they’ll take you to the next town. Or if you’re completely out of gas, lost, or both, there’s bound to be a herd of livestock along your course. You can stick with them and their herder will be by, likely before nightfall, to tend to them. And you know that herder has some fermented camel milk and a warm stove back at the ger (Mongolian yurts).
Photo by Robyn DeVoe
As the nomadic herders of the open backcountry of Mongolia began to reveal themselves, we observed their deep connection with their environment. When the seasons change, just as the animals and birds migrate, so do the nomads with their gers. They pack up all their belongings and strategically pick their seasonal sites, often returning to the same ones generation after generation, dependent on the wind patterns, proximity to water or natural springs, and forage for their livestock.
With a properly-synched circadian rhythm, they’re up with the sun, taking long walks and rides over rugged terrain, and finishing tasks by nightfall. You’ll rarely find a TV in their gers, but the solar panels outside provide power for their phone with which they stay in touch with one another.
These folks live a simple life amongst the elements that fulfills basic human needs. The nomadic herding families raise either goats, sheep, cattle, yaks, camels, horses, or often a combination. The animals are the livelihoods of these people, so their care, production, and harvest are what the days and nights revolve around. Nothing goes to waste.
Photo by Robyn DeVoe
Let’s take a goat, for example. Now you may think of goat milk, but that’s just the start. The curds left over from the initial straining of milk are what form the cheese. Then some of the milk is allowed to ferment into a “milky kombucha” type of drink. And a step further, after clarifying, some of that liquid becomes goat vodka. And when it’s time to eat the goat itself, every bit of meat is scraped clean off the bones, and then broken to consume the marrow inside.
All of these gifts from a single goat are always at-the-ready, and shared generously with many a spontaneous visitor to the family’s ger. The hides are also used for clothing or other materials. Their livestock is their energy source and currency, and deeply appreciated.
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Robyn’s Takeaways
Spending almost a month with the nomadic people of Mongolia was an important reminder of how many of our ancestors used to live on the land. How lucky we are to experience some of the last hold-outs of this way of life, a way of being that speaks deeply to our genes, playing out in present-day Mongolia. A land of no fences, where livestock, families, and gazelle are equally free to roam, unencumbered.
Photo by Robyn DeVoe
I took it all in: Hyper-aware of my environment, basking in the sun rays first thing in the morning and all day long, getting some of my best sleep, stress a distant memory, only focused on what is needed to stay comfortable in the elements, lending a hand and sharing stories with members of the community … needless to say, happy and at ease and fulfilling basic needs, the nagging health issues I experience back home became a memory. And reflecting on this I realized just how much we tend to over-complicate our lives.
Though today, the majority of the members of the youngest generations are now deciding to opt out of their nomadic roots to try their luck in the exciting big cities. It may seem tragic to see a way of life dying out in real-time, but you won’t find these families mourning, as they support their children in their dreams for a different life. We have the rare opportunity to visit these people still today. They are proud to welcome visitors, as it’s not too common. We can support the nomads through conscious and responsible tourism, visiting, observing, and participating in their lives, and giving them another reason to continue their lifestyle. Because in my opinion, they’ve got it right.
