I wasn’t expecting that, the country of my adventure riding dreams is one that is still behind in many ways. A country where people still live in tents: the Mongolian gers, out in the desert.

Some live in the gers because they’re nomads, but for many Mongolians the ger is their actual house. There is less comfort in Mongolia. Not in every aspect of life, but most. People have electricity and satellite TV, but you won’t find a refrigerator. Their meals consist mainly of dried food. And, there is no toilet to be found. Nowhere. Not even a hole behind a bush. Not even a bush. There is the desert, and that’s it.

After a few typical tourist days in Ulaanbaatar, and a pleasant stay at the well-known Oasis guesthouse, it was time to go seek the real adventure.

The Gobi desert is a vast desert shared by the North of China and the South of Mongolia. It’s known for being quite challenging so I joined forces with my Australian friend Paul and we both went for it.

I know now that the Gobi Desert is probably the easiest part of Mongolia. I should have saved Paul’s backup for later.

However, we did have a blast that week and we saw some pretty amazing places. If you ever go there, there are three things you definitely can’t miss: the Yolyn Am Valley (Ice Gorge), the Flaming Cliffs and the Tsutgalan Waterfall. The scenery in these places is stunning in their beauty!

Unfortunately, my stay in Mongolia would be shortened by a nasty leg injury. The doctor’s recommendation was surgery. I don’t know if you’ve seen the hospitals in Mongolia, but there was no way I was going to have my leg cut open there. So the only solution, he said, was to stay in Mongolia for two weeks with antibiotics, my leg up and total rest. That wasn’t happening either!

I had to leave…

The journey that would take me to the Northern route wasn’t like I had imagined it, at all. All I saw was sand, sand and more sand. Two hundred kilometres, non-stop. It took me two days to complete this stretch. By the time I arrived at the Northern route, and found out that it did not have asphalt either, my injured leg was swollen like a balloon and I was emotionally and physically exhausted.

One can really feel alone in challenging moments; on top of that I had some uneasy moments with a few Mongolians I encountered. There seemed to be a lack of personal space, also little respect for others belongings. Some folks would stop you and try to grab your things while others attempt to try on your helmet without asking or drink your water and eat your food. You need to be a bit careful and know that not all Mongolian people will help you if you’re in need. Some won’t even offer a warm smile. So remember out of sight out of mind, that’s the rule!

I came across a ger with an old couple inside. By this stage I was so tired that I asked them if I could stay there. Oh boy, if I knew then what I know now…

My stay there was unreal. Firstly I saw the “family doctor” treating a toothache by draining blood out of a lady’s gum. While I was still processing such a raw moment, neighbours from villages close by started to pop into the ger to see me. I was an attraction and, apparently, a motive for heavy celebration. As more and more people gathered inside the ger, more bottles of vodka were being emptied. I found myself in the middle of a ger party where everybody was screaming, vomiting and passing out. The smell inside the ger is something I hope to forget one day.

“In the morning I’m out of here!”, I told myself.

In the morning I woke up feeling really sick. I threw up and felt my body completely lacking any energy, but I was so disgusted by the previous night's party that I pushed myself to pack my things, put them on the bike and take off. I didn’t manage it. I had zero energy and no choice but to stay there and recover. Luckily for me, the second day and night were both quite calm and I was able to sleep and pull myself together again.

On my route out of there, and out of Mongolia, I saw a man with cattle across the road. He was waving at me and I stopped, but before I had time to ask him what it was he wanted, the man grabbed my handlebars and started yelling at me like a lunatic. My reaction was to take off, immediately, but while I was riding away from him, I saw through my rear view mirror that he had jumped on a little motorbike to chase me. The gravel was pretty good so I accelerated until I saw him disappearing in my mirror. When I set my eyes on the road ahead again, Chillie was diving into some sand. I fell.

“No, no way!” I thought to myself. The ground was too sandy and my bike too heavy, there was no way I could pick it up before the guy caught me. I had no idea what he wanted from me, but I was so shocked and scared by the whole situation that when he arrived I lost it. I yelled at him, as hard as I could, and told him to help me pick up my bike. Luckily it worked, but it was a horrible experience.

Back on track and only 250 km away from the border, my mind started to feel lighter again. I kept saying to myself “Tomorrow I'm gonna be crossing the border, I’ll be out of here, I’m gonna see a doctor, fix my leg and I’ll be fine!”

All was going well until one route led me to a river. The river was so deep that I was thinking “How the hell am I going to cross this?” I rode up and down the river for two hours looking for a crossable section and the only place I could find was a very narrow one, and risky to because of the strong river stream. For the first time, I cried. I couldn't understand why everything was getting so difficult when I least needed it.

Eventually, I managed to pull myself together and crossed the river. At the end it wasn’t as difficult as I was expecting it to be, and you can say that the whole experience gave me a feeling of “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

For the next 20 km I was really feeling happy with my accomplishment, and then I hit a second river. This one was two meters deep and there was absolutely no way I would be able to cross it. I saw a young guy, in his twenties, and I asked him if he knew where I could cross the river. “Yeah, yeah! Follow me,” he said.

Following definitely wasn’t the word for it; he took me through a really hard path full of bushes that was very muddy. He had to push me on my motorbike the whole time and I kept falling. “Where the hell is he taking me?” I thought.

After half an hour I finally realised he was taking me to his truck. When we stopped he undressed himself and said “You and me, we’re going to sleep here now!” I couldn’t believe it and didn’t know what to do. I was never going to be able to get out of there on my own, I lost all hope. I started crying and I told him I would pay him to take me back to the road.

He took me back, I paid him and I rode back to the first river. I camped for the night and that night I lost my mind. I didn’t know where I was, couldn’t comfort myself and I was being eaten by mosquitos. It was insane, but I kept thinking that I was going to be fine and that I was going to find a way out of there. And eventually I did!

In summary, Mongolia was a true challenge. The tracks are definitely hard and if I were to do it again I would take much less luggage; my bike was way too heavy.

The scenery, the challenges and the riding, something I had dreamt about, was a big achievement for me; what was disappointing was some of the people I unfortunately came across. Men won’t experience that, but being a solo woman, I realised there is little respect for women in Mongolia. They’re a wild bunch and without much consideration, they just go for it! I never expected that behaviour from Mongolian men and that was quite disappointing.

Nonetheless, the Mongolian adventure was worth it! I learned a lot about myself, how much I can take and overcome.

I would still recommend it to any other solo female rider. If you stick to the main roads, the southern routes, you’ll be fine. Remember, out of sight…out of mind!

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