Coleridge’s poem was ringing in my ears as we approached the ancient city of Xanadu, which now lies in ruins apart from its walls. It was deserted in 1430. Our destination lay two days away, north of the Gobi Desert.  

The herding nomads were struggling to survive on the steppes because of climate change and the encroaching sands. We had volunteered to help a family set up a pony trek operation so tourists from the west could explore the world of the nomads. This would help subsidise the family. 

2008 was way before the concept of glamping arrived so we were starting from scratch, using two Gers (portable, round tents covered and insulated with skins or felt) and our destination was a very small Russian built shelter that housed Grandparents, parents and four young children that were being home schooled.

What struck us first was the scarcity of water that was fetched daily from a well by the children. On the journey from Ulaan Batar we noticed that vodka was way more plentiful than water. Drinking water only came in a bottle. In one stopover I resorted to cleaning my teeth in vodka!   

We were each given a small (500ml) tin of water to wash in per day. Standing in a plastic laundry tub we poured the water over our heads and washed our clothes in the dirty water left in the tub. For a ‘clean freak’ like me it was a shock to the system. There was not a skerrick of comfort anywhere…hard beds, hard stools, hard dried yak meat to snack on. For people who survive in this region where it is above 40 degrees in summer and below 40 degrees in winter, the word comfort did not appear in their lexicon.

The horses were a typical sturdy Mongolian pony breed, hardy steeds that could go all day regardless of the conditions. The saddles were the biggest obstacle in making this business successful. The original design, unchanged since the days of Genghis Khan, were made of wood with a small amount of padding and large metal ornamental medallions that chafed the rider. The sort of thing one would expect in the Spanish Inquisition. After the first days riding my legs were black and blue. Any delusions I had of being a tough outback woman vanished.

So much travel today is focused on food…but not here! That is unless you like boiled meat (no seasoning or salt and pepper). Vegetables sometimes made an appearance as a green pea or fragment of carrot. The highlight of our trip was when this family decided to hold a special dinner in our honour and celebrated by killing one of their goats (a very precious commodity).  

Neighbours were invited to join in and while the men did the slaughtering and skinning the women prepared the meal. There was not one skerrick of that animal that wasn’t used. The best cuts were roasted for the celebration and served with their best vodka and beer. The meat was eaten from one big central platter using only a knife. I must admit it was beautifully succulent.

The group sang songs of past glories and mournful songs of loss. The vodka was drunk from a common bowl handed around to all. We were all made feel at one. The Mongolians are a gentle Buddhist people, nothing like their ancestors who marauded through Asia and Europe.  

I was surprised to find that Genghis Kahn is still spoken of very often and his face and name appears on the labels of almost everything from soap, vodka, fuel, food stuff, cars and general business products. It is as if he only passed away last week. 

After two weeks we had to move on, however we kept in contact with Mendee even up until now. His pony treks were so successful that two of his three kids have graduated from universities in America and his family now do their own traveling overseas.  

When we got home we would send him good comfortable saddles and other horsey items and gifts for the kids. It was a win-win for all despite the fact that we and others could only help a little. None of the volunteers belonged to big NGOs but were random travellers and backpackers, just lending a hand to very enterprising people.