At The End Of The Rope.

The first square Jesse and I found on our search for Tiananmen.

Across from Tiananmen.

The contrasts between Mongolia and China were felt immediately: some people - many people, savory food - spicy food, vast deserts - huge urban sprawls.  I could go on, but suffice it to say that this border crossing changed everything.

Any ideas we had of big crowds, like those seen at football games or political events, were blown away when the National Holiday began on the 1st of October.  At times I could stand still while the current of the flowing mob would carry me along. Obtaining a hard-sleeper train ticket to Yangshuo during these festivities will probably be remembered as one of our greatest achievements (it only took 3 more days than expected).

We were lucky enough to share our time at the Great Wall with a few locals.

A rare view for us of no crowds at the Forbidden City.

Apparently I was famous in China.  Everyone wanted a picture.

Guards for the flag raising.

We were up early with the crowds
for the sunrise on National Day.

Beijing was our time to learn Chinese history: paleolithic, imperial and modern, try new foods: sea-cucumber, donkey and frog, and exercise: biking the city, walking the great wall and climbing the not so great wall.  I felt that the city had a soul, unlike Vienna, and this will help me keep it lodged in the memory banks.

Jesse biking by Mao

Jesse at our first belay station in Yangshuo.  Banyan Tree.

Climbing at The Egg.

Our time for touring was in Beijing and our time for climbing was in Yangshuo.  We'd read that this small town was the golden grail for rock climbing, so what better place to finish our trip?  I took a couple of pictures, but most of our time was dedicated to getting up as many routes as possible.  Though the whole area was shockingly beautiful, climbing had to take a precedence over photography.

The Egg.

The approach.

Not a satellite image, just us looking down at the farmer.

At the bottom of the 6 pitch Thumb.

Half way up.

At the top!

At the top, with 5 rappels needed to get back to ground zero, we realized the sun was about to set.

This led to our first, and hopefully last, night descent.
 We had no light other than the flash on my camera.

We survived to climb Moon Hill the next day.

The swampy forests of European Russia, the rugged wilderness of Siberia, the unpredictable deserts of Mongolia, and the towering limestone karsts of sub-tropical Southern China have made up our traveling/climbing playground for 80 days.  Not only have we left these beautiful jungle gyms behind, but to add insult to injury, we are forced to dearly miss all of the great friends we've made in the past three months together with the ones we treasure back in our 2nd home-Bulgaria.

While it was a fun experience creating this window for you all to get a glimpse of our exploits, with the separation from my friend, and belayer, the rope tour has come to an end.  The camera and rope will continue to travel with me, though we are officially going dark.  Realize that this gives me the opportunity to secretly surprise some of you, no matter where in the world you hide.  Maybe I will see you soon!

Mongolia. Wow.

A view from our tent in the Terelj

 For three weeks now we've been exploring Mongolia.  Rough plans only allocated about a week here, but the country's beauty and the people's kindness kept urging us to see and do more.  Our time here was divided into two individual mini trips.  The climbing trip to the Terelj, and the Russian Jeep tour.

Our travel party was increased to three after picking up another traveler, Shachar, in Ulaanbaatar.  The three of us would climb, drive, break down, get lost, camp, freeze, make fire, and dine in deserts and yurts over the next 3 weeks.

Climbing the Terelj National Park.

Jesse and Shachar warming up at headquarters.

Leading the 5.11c Mongolian Route Rage

Jesse going up.

Less than 2 hours from the capital of Mongolia, Ulaanbaatar, is a vast area of wide open grassy steppe, portioned into plots by mountain ranges and sporadically pierced by sharp rock outcroppings.  It was by one of these random mounds of stone that we set up camp for five days.  These rocks, as well as the adjacent formations, were all dotted with protection for climbing.  All types of routes were available with cracks and slabs ranging from 5.7 to 5.13 (the first time we've seen the American grading system since before Bulgaria).  It was here that we were introduced to the Mongolian desert and steppe weather pattern of warm days and freezing nights.

Shachar on the sharp end of the rope for the first time ever.

Jesse changing shoes after getting to the peak.

Goats, sheep, horses and yaks shared our backyard.

The Mongolian Engineers.

On our first night we heard music in the distance and became detectives.  Operating under the sad assumption that we would find a group of tourists, only Mongolians were found.  We stumbled upon an anniversary party for the Mongolian engineering guild.  In the midst of a bonfire, live music, and freely offered Chinggis (Mongolia's favorite vodka) we made first contact with the locals, using English with the youth and Russian with the elders.

The animals made their way into the office on the last day.

The Russian Jeep.
A common way for foreigners to explore the truly diverse Mongolian countryside is to rent a minibus with a driver and get taken to the sights.  After talking with the organizers of the Mongol Rally, we were able to get our hands on a Russian jeep without a driver.  With extra food, fuel, two tents, a rope and a compass, we departed Ulaanbaatar with our sights aimed at the Gobi.

We're about to head through the ice canyons in Gurvan Sayhar.

Taking a break at the Buddhist shrine while looking back at the road.

With the help of some Polish hitchhikers that joined us for 4 days, we found an incredibly beautiful and remote climbing area at Их Газарин Чулу (Ikh Gazarin Chulu.).

Adriana at the rocks she influenced us into finding.

He helped us find bolted routes
 hidden throughout the rock fields.

Climbing in the rocky oasis.

We slept in a field of dried goat manure
because it was the closest we could get to mattresses.

The team.

Jesse and Shachar making it to
the top of the dunes.

It wasn't far from the capital when the roads ceased to be flat and paved.  The main interstate highway that we took all the way to Dalanzadgad was actually just a network of intertwining dirt roads that resembled the varicose veins on an elderly lady's legs.  Hourly, the vistas would drastically change between endless flat green steppes, snowy mountain passes, and empty desert wastelands. Because the country, outside of the capital, is virtually undeveloped, it was easy to imagine traveling through the same stomping grounds as Mongolia's great Chinggis (Genghis) Khan.

The steppe, dunes, and mountains at Khongor Els.

It got pretty beautiful.

Stuck in the dunes with a ripped engine belt.

Jesse and Shachar operating on the belt.

We had to spend the night.

Hearing an engine in the distance,
we ran through the dunes and found help. 

Old sign of Soviet and
Mongolian friendship.

Though our experience was as close to driving through a National Geographic episode of Planet Earth that I've ever been, interacting with the locals was the most memorable aspect of the trip.  Back in the Terelj, I got the impression that Mongolians are a considerably happy people.  After visiting multiple remote regions, this impression has been reinforced.  This was surprising in light of the fact that they were the longest standing members of the hope destroying Soviet Bloc (after the Soviet Union itself).  While a dissertation could be written on this topic, a short and cynical hypothesis for the happiness may be that the race and competition of wealth building that is capitalism has not yet reached far from the capital.  40 percent of the people here are still Nomads.  It is true that they don't live as long as citizens of rich countries, but the only other place I've met such happy people was in remote Indonesia.

When our transmission dropped, locals stopped by to have tea, coffee, and beer with us in the middle of the road.  Nearly every Mongolian knows how to fix a Russian jeep.

The nomad mechanic's daughter milking the goats.

The mechanic's home.

We were invited inside for tea.

We had downtime while we waited for the transmission to
get fixed a second time.This man not only found for us the
 apparent master technician of jeep transmissions,
but he also put us up for the night. 

Traveling musicians putting on
an impromptu concert for us.

It's a travesty that we've done so much and I can only write about so little. Hopefully the pictures can help you travel along with us.

A map of Mongolia at its largest.

Next stop: China