Freeriding in Mongolia
Recently, our crew of four spent several days at those altitudes to allow Richard Gasperotti ever-new freeriding opportunities. You may remember Gaspi, his arms covered in tattoos from the Red Bull Rampage, perhaps the most dangerous cycling competition on Earth - and one in which he participated four times.
Gaspi, 35, travels the globe to find places where nobody has ever left a tire tread before. He especially looks for the extreme long runs from the tops of peaks. He reaches them by foot and then rides down, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. What the legendary snowboarder Jeremy Jones does with his descents of Alaska's deadly slopes, Gaspi does on wheels and over rocks.
"The main challenge was the opportunity to ride the hills where no one had been with a bicycle before," Gaspi says. "It is one of the few countries that are not affected by huge tourism yet. And the benefit? The trip will leave a map of Mongolia within us forever."
Gaspi got to Mongolia from Prague by car, joined by Lukáš Jusko. The whole trip from Prague to Altai and back, undertaken in a Ford Econoline van equipped with a winch, an expedition roof and a collapsible roof sleeping two, was about 16,000 kilometers (9,760 miles).
Our group was there to do a video, and cinematographer Martin Smolík rounded out the group. Smolík and I flew to the Russian city of Novosibirsk, from where it was "only" another 1,000 or so kilometers to the Mongolian border. We had food, a medical kit and anything else we might need for two weeks in the backcountry.
Not to mention the wheels. Gaspi brought two bikes to Mongolia: his lighter EVO for the softer treatment and his SX Trail for when the harder work needed doing. The rocks are sharp as razors, and Gaspi changed as many as five tires per day.
Even in the valleys of the Altai range, we were 2,000 meters above sea level. That made every move exhausting, and we were often short of breath. At the sunniest sites, the temperature could reach 45 degrees Celsius (113 degrees Fahrenheit). It is only occasionally possible to pedal around in the range: The slopes are usually too steep, and you often have to hike for an hour or more. And then there are the mosquitoes, which are almost everywhere, with slight but welcome reprieves at the highest of altitudes and in the strongest of winds.
One thing that weighed on Gaspi's and all of our minds was that, if there was an emergency, say a broken bone, the closest doctor was about 1,000 kilometers away. For Gaspi, that was reason enough not to try the most dangerous moves, though the moves he did do were still mostly dangerous.
"I do not have a spleen, so my immunity system is totally fucked," Gaspi says. "That is why I don't think about any prevention: I can die wherever, whenever, but it is the same for the people with good immunity and with proper vaccination."
When the rain started, which would often happen unexpectedly, the creeks and small rivers would suddenly overflow everywhere because the soil is hard and water doesn't soak in it. There are no roads, just some gravel tracks where cars have gone before, but the rain would wash these things away, too.
In a rainstorm, you need an off-road car not to get stuck in the mud. Help from another traveler is possible, but sometimes you have to wait a day before someone appears.
We waited out five straight days of rain before setting out on our journey. The muddy streets of Mongolian villages filled up with kids on bikes. Everyone wanted to measure their riding skills with Gaspi's. But, with the sun at last in the sky, we were headed to the mountains. Wild horses, yaks and camels grazed on the grasslands as we drove.
Respect for nature
Even now, at the beginning of the 21st century, Mongolia remains largely untouched and wild, the land of Genghis Khan - who conquered Asia and much of Europe during the 12th and 13th centuries.
At the first shop beyond the border with Russia, we bought a bottle of vodka named after the national hero. It was surprisingly mild and tasted delicious. Mongolians believe that daily sips of the spirit protect against digestive problems. (In western Mongolia, most of the citizens are ethnic Kazakhs, Muslims in general, prohibited by their holy book from drinking, but in the severe mountains Allah appears to be a bit more lenient - not that people drink as much as in the rest of the country, which is infamous for its consumption.)
"Mongolia is a country where you can see that the people really love their nature, which is not so common on other continents," Gaspi says. "Regrettably, even here, the negative influences of consumer life are slowly creeping in. So you feel the same in a big Mongolian city as in a small European village. I have never seen so many Toyota Land Cruisers in one place. In a few years, Mongolia will not be the untouched Mongolia we used to know from documentary films."
All of the people we met in Mongolia were extremely friendly. It can happen very easily that they invite you into their portable wood-framed dwellings, called gers, which we would refer to as yurts. The structures are covered with layers of fabric and sheep's wool for insulation and weatherproofing so that they are comfortable inside even in winter, when the temperature drops to below -20 degrees Celsius, and strong winds blow through the valleys.
Inside a Mongolian home, we sat on a warm carpet and drank bowls of kumis, a fermented dairy product traditionally made from mare's milk. It is served cold and tastes sour as kefir, but it is also lightly alcoholic. I liked it very much, but the other guys barely touched theirs. I couldn't imagine that happening with beer. One custom that may be disturbing to visitors' notions of hygiene is that of pouring the dregs of each cup back into the kumis storage container. That way, none is wasted, and the hostess can assure herself there will be enough for future visitors. We gave our hostess a couple cans of Red Bull in exchange.
Our hosts even let us hold their eagle for a moment. The pet eagle didn't look too amused, but he didn't puncture us with his sharp beak or tear us apart with his talons. Hunting with eagles is one of the highest expressions of Kazakh cultural heritage. Genghis Khan's bodyguards were selected from an elite regiment of falconers, and his grandson Qubilay hosted extravagant eagle-hunting expeditions that were recorded by Marco Polo. Professional hunters call the practice berkutchi. It is a lifelong profession, and often one passed down through generations.
Though the eagles are regal, no animal is loved more by Mongolians than horses, greatly cherished - and particularly by the nomads - for their utility. Horse racing is the second-most popular event in Mongolia, after traditional wrestling. On weekends, local races feature hundreds of jockeys.
When our journey was over, we headed back east. The countryside changed. The rocks became less red and razored, more yellow, more rounded. We didn't want to acknowledge it, but our trip was almost at an end. In Novosibirsk, we boarded the plane; Gaspi and Lukáš headed back to Prague on their seven-day drive. Our next trip as a foursome will be to an active volcano island.
Adam Maršál can be reached at features@praguepost.com
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