Kharkhorin

On the second day of the journey, I would head to Kharkhorin, along the way stopping by the sand dunes of Elsen Tasarkhai - nicknamed Mini Gobi. This was a long stretch of over 420km and took more than six hours to complete, which surely wasn’t a comfortable ride.

Passing by Ulaanbaatar

One of my travel habits is going to bed early and getting up early. Sunrise is a special privilege for the few early birds who brave the biting morning cold, shivering while marveling at the scenery.

Instead of waiting for breakfast, we departed early to avoid traffic as the journey would pass through Ulaanbaatar. That morning was truly beautiful - the golden sunlight slanted across the mountains, from the solitary rocky peak to the gently rolling hills as smooth as velvet.

Autumn had arrived, and the trees lining the Tuul River were gradually turning golden. In the distance, contrasting the nature’s greenery, stood apartment buildings and smokestacks rising from Ulaanbaatar’s thermal power plants. Despite our early start, I still got to experience the city’s traffic congestion, even if only driving along its outer beltway.

Lost in the Green Grasslands

The A0301 Road to Kharkhorin stretches across the seemingly endless steppe, passing through the provinces of Töv, Bulgan, Arkhangai and Övörkhangai. At times the overwhelming flatness of the landscape can lull travelers into a daydream on their seats, and I really admired the driver and the guide, who managed to keep their conversation going throughout the long journey.

The clouds in the sky helped make the distant mountain layers appear soft and floating. The most charming sights were always the solitary white yurts, appearing so randomly along the road. No matter how many times this scene repeated itself, it never failed to bring me a sense of delight.

As noon approached, the sky grew cloudier, sometimes even it drizzled. That day was really a rare weather moment in this land - where the sky is usually either clear and blue or blanketed in icy snow.

Perhaps what jolted me awake were the streaks of color stretching across the horizon: those were the hues of wheat fields, either already harvested or ripening to a golden glow, as beautiful as a real-life painting. I could at the same time see the earthy brown of the soil, the fresh green and the warm gold of the wheat; had the sky been clear that day, its brilliant blue would have joined the palette as well.

As we almost reached Elsen Tasarkhai, we stopped for lunch at a rest station called Mars. One thing I must praise about rest stops in Mongolia is that, despite being in the middle of nowhere, they’re incredibly convenient, spacious and clean. True to its name, the surroundings of Mars were barren, with only exposed rocks and wild grasslands. Here I could recharge myself with a bowl of Mongolian dumpling soup, accompanied by well-paired tomatoes.

Elsen Tasarkhai Sand Dunes

After driving a bit further, we arrived at the Elsen Tasarkhai sand dunes in Bulgan province. The Elsen Tasarkhai area stretches 80km in length and 5km in width, consisting mainly of sand dunes and shrubs, often called the Mini Gobi (or Semi-Gobi).

The highlight activity here, of course, is riding a Bactrian camel. The experience is far from smooth as the constant swaying atop its bumpy back makes you feel as if you’re about to be thrown off at any moment. I had a fun conversation with two young men from Japan who were also riding camels, and it’s such a serendipitous encounter in this vast world.

The Last Mile to Kharkhorin

Then the sky was completely covered with clouds, the combination of overcast weather and wind made the air even feel chillier, despite the temperature remaining the same.

After passing through the golden sand dunes, this final stretch was filled with the deep green hues of the steppe.

Flocks of vultures perched on the grass by the roadside, likely drawn by their food nearby. Vultures aren’t particularly affable creatures - whenever someone approaches, they take flight, keeping their distance.

At the horizon’s edge, the swirling clouds loomed overhead, almost touching the distant road.

Erdene Zuu Monastery

The sight of houses clustered together signaled that our car was approaching Kharkhorin town, the final destination of that day’s journey.

It’s hard to imagine that this small remote town was once a cultural and commercial hub of one of the most powerful empires in history. Only the excavated ruins remain, allowing us to piece together the image of a prosperous medieval city. My guide took me to Karakorum Museum, located opposite to Erdene Zuu Monastery, where visitors are told the story of a once-thriving city.

After visiting the museum, I went to explore Erdene Zuu Monastery. Chilly wind and light rain made the walk through the monastery’s vast grounds less comfortable. There’re a few workers cutting grass, and according to my guide, they’re storing it as fodder to help livestock survive the harsh winter ahead.

The architecture of the temples within the monastery complex reflects influences from Mongolia, Tibet and China - from the stupas and green-tiled roofs to the white-painted walls. Historical records state that nearly 100 temples and about 300 ger tents once stood within its walls; however, today only a few prominent structures remain: Dalai Lama Temple, the trio of Baruun Zuu - Buddha Zuu - Zuun Zuu temples, the Golden Stupa, and Lavrin Temple. Erdene Zuu houses a collection of thangka paintings, tsam masks, and rare statues that have been miraculously preserved despite the turmoil of history.

The Grand Performance of Sunset and Sunrise

The Melancholic Blue

At last, I could unwind at the camp after nearly a full day on the road. Monkhshuuri Camp is near Erdene Zuu, and like many other campsites in the area, is set apart from the local ger settlements. Anyhow, sheltering in the warm yurt to escape the cold was a comfort in itself - even though hunger was settling in, and I had to wait until evening for dinner.

The camp in Kharkhorin is slightly less convenient than the one in Gorkhi-Terelj as it only has wood-burning stove, and you need to keep an eye on the fire and add more wood when it starts to die down - otherwise, you’ll end up curling up in your sleeping bag and piling on extra blankets in the middle of the night, just like I did.

The restroom area at Monkhshuuri Camp certainly had its inconvenience - some toilets didn’t even have enough space to sit comfortably. But it didn’t really matter, a quick shower and the excitement of witnessing the sunset were more than enough to recharge my energy.

The sunset wasn’t really stunning that day due to the heavy cloud cover, but there’re still golden moments: when the sun’s rays pierced through gaps in the clouds, creating a warm glow over the distant town.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky donned a cool shade of blue. Sometimes the distant hum of passing cars broke the evening silence, while the sunset carried an indescribable melancholy. Perhaps in a quiet town like this, dusk feels more subdued, even more solemn than the sunset over a completely deserted land.

The sun painted thin, thread-like streaks of color along the horizon as the darkness nearly claimed the sky; in the distance, the warm yellow glow of the monastery’s outer walls flickered to life. I think it’s a beautiful moment that unfortunately no camera’s able to truly capture. Night had fallen, it’s time to retreat indoors, warm up and enjoy a can of fruit-flavored Ooze vodka I had bought from the store earlier that morning.

The Joyful Crimson Light

I woke up early the next morning, partly to make up for the previous day’s sunset, and partly because it’s simply too cold to keep sleeping as the stove had gone out.

Turns out, it’s a right decision - that’s probably the most beautiful sunrise I’d ever witnessed. There’s little difference between what my eyes saw and what the camera captured, every shutter click brought a thrill of excitement.

It seemed like no one else had woken up early to watch the sunrise; I had this moment entirely to myself, but of course, it would’ve been just as wonderful to share it with someone.

The thick clouds from the night were now bathed in radiant, jubilant crimson light - like a reverse painting of the sunset. The scene became even more mesmerizing with the silhouettes of solitary trees standing tall; after all, would a multicolored sky feel as breathtaking without those supporting characters?

The hills to the west, in contrast, were draped in a smooth gentle light. How lucky it was to witness that full 360-degree panorama, each angle offering a different perspective; that alone was more than enough for a perfect harvest of photos.

Sometimes we’re too enchanted by one direction that we fail to notice the brilliance shining just as brightly elsewhere.