Yoga, camel rides and yurts in the desert
Jane Alexander for the Daily Mail
May 17, 2017 08:53, updated May 17, 2017 08:53
- Sandwiched between China and Russia, Mongolia is often overlooked by tourists
- But the country has wonderful landscapes, including the dunes of the Gobi Desert
- The capital, Ulaanbaatar, offers a rare opportunity to live in a rural country city
Lightning quivered on the horizon — zigzag to the left, then to the right. It was a sunset like no other, swirls of fuchsia, orange and crimson. Thunder rumbled, and birds flew over my head.
If there was a middle point in the middle of nowhere, this is it. Beyond the back. Outer Mongolia. Guess what? This is happiness.
This is the Gobi Desert – a vast wilderness within a wider wilderness. Mongolia is bigger than the United Kingdom, France, Germany and Italy combined, yet its population is only 3 million. Most people live a nomadic life in yurts (yurt-like tents).
For 70 years, the Gobi was effectively off-limits due to Mongolia’s status as a buffer state controlled by the Soviet Union, but now it welcomes tourists. Not many yet – just 6,000 came from the UK last year.
However, this should change as Mongolia is surprisingly easy to access and very safe.
I flew to the capital Ulaanbaatar via Moscow. It is a city in constant change, with the oldest buildings dating back to the early 20th century; before that, it was a migratory city of yurts. Now there are many tall buildings.
It’s ugly, but not intimidating, and I find it fun to hang out by myself.
Being alone out of town isn’t really an option. There aren’t many tarmac roads, just dirt roads with no signs in sight across large swathes of countryside. But choose to travel with a reputable company, everything will be very simple.
I’m here for a retreat with Reclaim Your Self, a small company that’s taking yoga to unusual places.
A group of us took the Trans-Mongolian Railway from Ulaanbaatar; it was a stopped train, rolling for eight hours on the equivalent of a jogging locomotive. We jumped off (platform, what platform?) into the desert.
An old bus came into view and we plodded for another two hours through a lunar landscape of gravel, sand, hills and rocks.
“Home” is a yurt camp surrounded by a wide circle of rocky cliffs. The landscape is stark but not intimidating.
My yurt comes straight out of a folktale—a small round tent made of felt, lattice, and brightly colored wood. In the center there is a stove that burns dried camel dung (no, it has no smell).
I snuggle under the felt blanket on my comfortable bed and watch the shadows cast by the flames dance across the ceiling. Sleep comes easy. This is the first yoga retreat held in Mongolia. The local staff looked confused as we dashed past the sun salute and twisted into pretzels twice a day.
You can almost hear them wondering why on earth we’re sweating so much. I started thinking about the same thing myself.
Yoga is a form known as Jivamukti. It’s fast and athletic—”tough yoga for tough situations,” as yoga teacher Emma Henry says. It’s a treat for stressed city dwellers, but here? Mongolia is a slow run, and as time went on, I found myself slowing down a few gears to get used to the local pace. No Wi-Fi or phone coverage. life is simple.
If you want to spend a penny at night, you have to seek out the eco toilets on the edge of the camp. Walking under the starry sky is a treat. If you need a shower, there is a fire in the shower and warm water is served in a bucket with a shower attachment.
One day we went on a night trip deep into the desert. Our guide moved on, setting up a makeshift camp (a yurt takes about an hour to set up), while we followed on camels and carts.
“What’s my camel’s name?” I asked my guide. He solemnly declared, “Your camel has no name.” So, as I swayed, I sang, “I once rode a nameless camel through the desert.” To respond—a eulogy for his country. This kind of remoteness feels good to me. Get there before it shows up on the map.