Renchinlhumbe and Along the Jargalan River

January 31.

We are at Mishig's house. There is a lot of activity, because his wife is going to the countryside with a truck full of merchandise from her store. Much ado about getting ready. We will also leave today, but first we will do more recording, right there.

So the accordion player shows up. And two ladies, dressed to sing. And sing they do. 

Then we embark on the next phase of the adventure... we load the van with all of our stuff: duffels, food, and the five of us. Once we are all in the van, there are a few more stops. In fact, it takes a full hour before we actually leave Renchinlhumbe! Gas station #1. Turns out it is closed, but we find out only after waiting there awhile for an attendant. Gas station #2. Bataa gets out to help - the pump is manual. Then a stop at a store for chips and drinks... the store is right behind Mishig's house! Then a stop at a house to borrow a horsehead fiddle that we will take to someone who knows how to play but does not have an instrument of his own. We finally roll out of town into the sun-in-our-eye 4pm light. I wonder how far we will get before dark.

We head across the valley. Looking at the mountains brings a deep sigh as I drink in their majesty.

We stop at three homes - two houses and one ger - to record. In the latter, their enthusiasm for the project is wonderful - they really get into it and appreciate what we are doing, since some of the songs are disappearing. In fact, it is not unusual for singers to take a moment or two to remember all the words. 

The homes are along the Jargalan River.  I recognize one area where we rode horses last fall, including a rickety bridge. But this time we turn north instead of south at that crossing (and we cross on the ice, not the bridge). 

From one place to the next, the families just waved in a general direction: go that way. (Some refer to this as the Mongolian G.P.S. or "ger positioning system.") Most of the time we follow a two-track path - I hesitate to call it a road (in the Mongolian language, there is just one word for both "road" and "path"). At one point we cross a frozen river and aim at a bank that appears to go straight up to the height of the van! Yet Mishig drives straight up and over! I exclaim out loud with surprise (glad I'm not driving). 

It gets dark as we go from home to ger. I begin to wonder where we will stay tonight, with some unsuspecting family. I have learned not to ask questions for which Badmaa has no answer, like, where will we stay. She doesn't know. As Mishig drives in the dark, he easily chooses several forks in the road without batting an eye. There are absolutely no street signs! Somehow he just knows. (At one point he turns off the headlights to check the contour of the surrounding mountains to get his bearings.) Days later, it occurs to me that I would feel equally comfortable navigating the back roads of Leelanau County; Mishig is a veterinarian and in this region, vets travel to all the remote corners of the valley... he has been here before...

But that does not occur to me as we unload the van at 8:30 pm. We stay in the house of a family - when we arrive, there are eight people there, making mutton dumplings and watching a Korean soap opera that has been dubbed into Mongolian. 

Getting here ranks right up there in terms of adventure! We are officially far away from towns, running water, the power grid, you name it. If it were any warmer, I would linger outside to gaze at the amazing array of stars. But I save that for another time.