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Mongolia was a glorious holiday after the hard work of cycling Tibet, lush and green after months of barren scree, carefully managed forests after environmental pillage, gentle contours after ragged peaks, full of warm genial folk (mid right) after the harried warriors of Kham. Cheating once more with a hired jeep to Lake Hovsgol (top left and right), still covered with a rind of ice, we lazed around its shores for two weeks before the first of the herders, hunters, fishermen and tourists arrived. We headed south then, to Hatgal and Moron, across to Terhiyn Tsagaanuur where we became stranded behind the streams feeding into the lake and a local herder brought us his yak to ferry us across (mid left). Across to Tsetseleg then through some back roads to Harhorin and followed the Orhon Gol up to Tovhon (middle photo), the 300 year-old Gompa built by the God-King Zanabazar. Finally we had to tear ourselves away, tossing the bikes on top of the local mini-bus and passing several cyclists heading out toward the desert, riding south to China. We admired their tenacity and stoicism, riding thousands of miles of changeless grasslands which we preferred to cross by train or truck and save our cycling for the lands of mountains, forests, lakes and rivers.
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