Starting work and a long journey to the Gobi Desert.

Since my last post I have started work proper, I have ventured down to the Gobi Desert, and Patrick Swayze has died. Still, at least he had the time of his life...if that was too soon I apologise but if you can't laugh what can you do? (I am aware that the joke wasn't necessarily funny but I reserve the right to crack bad jokes).

Anyway, I marched to work on my first day brimming with confidence. The sun was shining, the birds were probably singing but the sounds of the traffic were more than a match for their vocal styling's, and the world was ready to be saved by a plucky VSO volunteer. I descended the steps looking as cool, in my humble opinion, as its possible for a man wearing a fleece to look, and promptly became entangled in the net designed to prevent bugs from getting into the building. It did a pretty good job of stopping me from getting in as well until after a few seconds of epic man vs net struggle I triumphantly, and with less than a little flair, freed myself. Unpurtubed, and with even more elan, I sauntered along the corridor, glided into the office and deftly sat down at my desk feeling quite pleased with my entrance. Then suddenly reality hit me like a frisbee to the face. I didn't have a clue what to do. Panic set in. Beads of sweat began rolling down my brow. I was like a midget in 12ft of water: Out of my depth.

Happily, a few minutes later I remembered that I had been told exactly what I should do and I began reading a guideline to monitoring and evaluation, a document that I would quickly develop a love/hate relationship with insofar as I loved to hate it. Unfortunately for me (only because it meant I couldn't just pretend to read the document), implementing an active system of monitoring and evaluation is a pretty important part of what I will be doing here.

Thus far, my work has been confined out of necessity to familiarising myself with the various projects CYPPD is involved in and that means a lot of reading, interspersed with glimpes of what my work will entail once I understand exactly what I need to do. Thankfully I think I am going to enjoy the work, plus I get to teach English to the staff which I'm looking forward to (no, seriously).

Moving on. I have been fortunate in two respects this last week. Firstly, there are VSO volunteers crazy enough to run a half-marathon in the Gobi desert (I briefly contemplated walking it but common sense got the better of me) which mean I got to tag along. Secondly, my boss is awesome enough to allow me to have a Friday and a Monday off in my first week of work.

Before this trip, the Gobi Desert was for me, something that existed only on television and in my imagination. I had visions of endless seas of sand and humanity clinging to life in a land that clearly wasn't made for people to live in. In reality, only small parts of the Gobi have sand dunes and people don't cling to life in the desert, they adapt to it.

We left Ulaanbaatar on Friday, September 11th at 8:00am. We had a rather optimistic idea that the journey would be around 10-12 hours which would prove to be more than a little bit innacurate. After about 45 minutes the luxury that is paved roads came to a bumpy and dusty end. Usually, the idea of a very long drive is enough to make me wish I had a powerful sedative so that I don't have to spend mind-numbing hours gazing at nothing in particular. So I was relieved that Mongolia is anything but boring and not once did I grow tired of looking at the spectacular views. There were moments when we would come to the top of a lip of a ridge and an involuntary smile would creep across my face as my eyes were greeted by the some of the most awe-inspiring sights I have ever been privalaged to witness. The land would undulate and roll away into the distance, as far as the eye could see. Here and there herds of horses would canter across the plain, guarded by a solitary, watchful, herder. The road stretches out before you like a long dusty artery connecting the remote regions of Mongolia.

The transition from steppe to desert is a gradual one and I only noticed when I realised that there was very little plant life around. The other indicator was when we happened upon a group of Bactrian camels ambling slowly to wherever it is camels like to go in the desert. They didn't seem to care about our presence and our driver didn't seem to care about my curiosity or the camera in my hands. He continued to show disdain for my camel watching desires throughout the entire trip and I was only able to get this shot as we sped by one particular group -

We eventually stopped driving at around 7:30pm as the light was rapidly fading and we needed to set up camp. However, I'm a sucker for a sunset and this one was particularly impressive so I ran off with my camera and my tri-pod and totally forgot to help Chris put up our tent. When I returned he was half done and I sheepishly helped with the rest. The night descended with startling speed and soon all was dark except for the light from our cooking.

Every now and again you conditions combine to create something truly special. That night we were no where near a town, we were in the desert, and there was no moon. The stars unfolded above to create a wondrous spectacle that I will not soon forget. It was in a word, perfect. The milky way was as clearer than I had ever seen it and it arched across space as though God had deliberately left a brilliant trail through the cosmos. I was awe-struck by the night sky and as I stood there in the vast emptiness of the desert staring up at the unimaginable vastness of the heavens I began to think. What I thought about I won't say but I will say that sometimes, ever so rarely, you can have an experience that is profound and comforting, and during my first night in the Gobi Desert, I had one of those experiences.

The following day we finally made it to the ger camp which was the base for the literally tens of people who are insane enough to want to go on a long distance run through a desert. It was set on a plateau with mountains in one direction and desert in every other. It was also close to a site of paleontolgical significance called the Flaming Red Cliffs. It was the first place where dinosaur eggs were discovered. It is also exceedingly beautiful. From a distance they look like they are just a chain of cliffs but as you get closer you realise that they are actually a interwining series of gorges and crevaces that rise up to a ridge overlooking the Gobi. They are a stunning red (hence the name) and are truly stunning. When you get to the top of the ridge you can see the cliffs drop away before you and extend to your left and right. The contrast between the red of the cliffs and the blue of the sky adds to aura which this place creates.

Although that photo really doesn't do it justice it gives you at least some idea of what I'm talking about!

I spent my time at the ger camp wandering around the cliffs and doing some good old fashioned exploring. The finish line for the half-marathon was at the top of the cliffs which was great because I got to spend more time there whilst waiting for our intrepid competitors. All four did really well and even beat some U.S. marines so take that America! I kid, but seriously marines should be beating volunteers.

The drive back from the Gobi was equally as long as the drive there and I arrived back in Ulaanbaatar thoroughly knackered but very happy nonetheless. I could have written volumes about the trip but I am aware that some of you may have lost interest already so I had better call it a day.

Log on next week for more (possibly) exciting tales from Mongolia!

Thanks for reading.