The Slow Train Into Mongolia.

28-30 August

[My photos from the train ride are here. Most are crap, as they were shot through the dirty windows of a speeding train.]

Happily reunited with my German friends from the long ride from Moscow to Irkutsk, I was feeling good about the ride into Mongolia. Then Manfred said to me, “You have food, yes?”. Uh, no. I had planned to follow their lead from the previous train, and just buy as we went along. But that wouldn’t be very feasible on this train, for while it made more frequent stops, they were only for 1 or 2 minutes, and vendors didn’t come to the platforms. Crap. A quick scramble through a few of the kiosks across the street, and I returned with enough water and snacks to get me through the 40 hour journey.

We boarded the train shortly thereafter, and I was again in the same wagon with the Germans. It turned out that the entire wagon was “the foreigner wagon”, with maybe one Russian mixed in. My cabinmates were Joseph, a teacher from Austria, and David & Michael, two buddies from Dublin. Down the hall were a few Americans, some Frenchies, several more Germans, and a lone Dutchman (where are all the Aussies???).

The train creaked off to a slow roll, with cheers from our cabin. Russian trains (and most, I suspect) don’t have any active air conditioning when the train is stopped. So we had been sweating in our little cube, and looked forward to the airflow. Of course, this was the slow train, so it stopped after about 5 minutes. And again another 10 minutes later. And so on, through the night. We chatted for a bit, and commiserated about the agonizingly slow progress we were making. Arnol, the Dutchman, had similar travel plans to mine, so we spent some time comparing notes, and exchanged info to potentially link up later in China.

My ticket was for the top bunk. I decided to risk lowering the retaining bar, given the train’s slow pace; would a “sudden” stop really toss me out of the bunk? And when was the last time I’ve rolled out of a bed in my sleep? This gave me a few inches of extra space, and allowed me to get some decent sleep. I slept through the only planned longish stop of our trek, a 40 minute stop at Ulan Ude, Russia.

Wednesday would be a day of waiting, and celebration: it was Manfred & Brita’s anniversary, and my birthday. We were scheduled to spend roughly 8 hours parked on either side of the Russian/Mongolian border. As we crawled along the last few kilometers of southern Siberia, we were able to detrain at the short stops to stretch our legs for a few minutes.

Manfred had briefed us on the protocol at the border. We planned to sit in our wagon for the first few hours, and then we’d be free to roam around for a few hours. But the provodnik came through and told us (this one spoke a little English, and good German) that we’d get off the train as soon as we parked at the Russian checkpoint, and need to return in 3 hours. Manfred said the process has been evolving on his trips over this route in the past several years, and this was the third change in a year. So we hopped off the train under sunny, clear skies to find some treats in the border town.

After 30 minutes of wandering we finally found a shop that sold beers, so we bought a few to enjoy in the sun while we waited. And waited, and waited. Most of the passport control and customs focus in these crossings is on the locals and traders. For simple tourists like us, the scrutiny is minimal. When we returned to the train for inspection, the process was very quick and quite painless. Passports and papers quickly scanned, stamped a few times, and then agents took apart several secret compartments to make sure nobody was smuggling anything. We were all cleared in about 40 minutes, and were able to get off the train again.

This was the slow train, both because of the number of stops, and because of a peculiar arrangement whereby a Russian locomotive led the train to the border, and then a Mongolian locomotive took over for the Mongolian leg. On the other, faster options, the Russian loco took the train the whole way. As a special birthday treat for me, our Mongolian escort was delayed an extra 2 hours, expanding the 40 hour ride to 42. Ah well, at least we were able to spend the time off the train, in the sun (this would have been far less amusing in mid-winter…).

After our Mongolian steed finally arrived and was attached to our train, everyone boarded the train and stayed in the hallway, curious to see the border zone. We were able to snap pictures on the Russian side, but as soon as we hit the no-man’s land we were told to put away the cameras, as the Mongolians are sensitive about it (seemed odd). Either side of the zone had a few manned towers, and the Russian side had a few ancient looking tanks covered in tall grass. The best was our final image of Russia: army officers playing volleyball (Yes, Top Gun references were made. Slider, you stink!)

And then we stopped on the Mongolian side for entry processing, and to attach up to a massive local train. After another quick stamping process, we cracked open the vodka and beer for a few hours of celebration before bed.

I woke up with a fog in my head, and to fog on the ground. The Mongolian countryside was definitely different than the Siberian landscape of the past many days train travel. More hills, more green, dotted with white tents (gers), and more horses evident.

We were awakened early in anticipation of our 7:40 arrival in Ulaan Baatar. And of course we ended up being 1:40 late, given our late start the night before. As Ulaan Baatar crept into view, shrouded in a brown haze, we said our farewells, and prepared for a hectic scene on the platform.

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