A few months ago, I was given the opportunity to pioneer a very unique experience: Spend eleven days riding a SkyTeam 49cc Monkey Bike through the Mongolian steppe. In 2019 I spent a week riding a similar bike through Southern Morocco, and I had been longing for a similar experience ever since.
I’ve been fascinated with Mongolia for a long time. Mongolians are the descendants of the Mongol Empire: the largest contiguous empire in human history. My interest in Mongol culture peaked after listening to Dan Carlin’s Wrath of the Khans, to this day my favorite podcast series of all time. As soon as The Adventurists announced The Monkey Run Mongolia, I was immediately in.
Ulaanbaatar is a city transitioning between two worlds: From its remnants of Soviet influence to a modern, democratic, westernized metropolis. The city is towered by both old cement soviet apartment buildings as well as modern glass and steel high rises. The thermal plant near the geographic center of the city dominates the skyline (with its giant smokestacks slowly polluting the air). The roads in the city are packed with old Toyota Priuses with raised suspensions, honking and willfully ignoring traffic norms. Mongolia is the only country I’ve been to that has cars with both left hand and right hand drive: I assume that is because they import used cars from Japan (left-hand traffic), and China (right-hand traffic). There were barely any motorcycles on the road: I assume that this is because Ulaanbaatar is the coldest capital city on earth.
After a day of exploring the city and picking up supplies, we headed to the starting line: A tourist camp in the steppe near the Great Khan’s statue. The Adventurists organized several activities for the pioneers while we learned to use the bikes, signed forms, and looked at routes to the finish line.
The Monkey Run is not a race. It is a choose your own adventure journey. You have a set number of days to make it to the finish line. Participants group themselves and decide how to get to the finish line. Some might choose to never ride asphalt, while others might choose to ride very long distances and hit points of interest along the way. The key is to get yourself and your bike to the finish line in one piece.
Our crew chose our adventure to be a little bit of everything. We each had a few places we wanted to check out during the journey, but on a day-to-day basis we would pick a spot on the map and attempt to make it before night fall.
The first day we took it easy as we got accustomed to the bikes. We rode through the steppe towards Gorkhi-Terelj National Park, a natural park north of Ulaanbaatar. After crossing the Tuul river, the landscape changed: we entered a place with granite peaks, giant boulders, luscious forests and meandering rivers. We had no idea this type of ecosystem existed in Mongolia.
Day 1 would be the only day we would all ride together. On day 2 we started to realize that riding with nine people all together was going to be complicated. Everyone had a different risk assessment on the adventure: some wanted more off road and no paths, others wanted to ensure they wouldn’t break down in the middle of nowhere.
We rode through the central Mongolian steppe in our tiny bikes, eventually reaching Kharkhorin. The ride was on high quality asphalt with near perfect weather. Ger camps, grassy hills, and rivers dotted the landscape. Golden Eagles would fly over us occasionally. This was the Mongolia I imagined of when listening to the Wrath of the Khans.
Kharkhorin is the ancient capital of The Mongol Empire. The city was founded in 1220 by Genghis Khan, and it flourished under Ogedei Khan and Toregene Khatun until Kublai Khan decided to move the capital of the empire to present day Beijing.
Little remains of the ancient city, but it always held some importance to the Mongol people. In 1585 Erdene Zuu was established as the first Buddhist monastery in the empire, and a few of its temples still stand today. We spent our fourth day exploring the town and its historical points of interest.
One of the best parts about motorcycle riding in Mongolia is you can ride anywhere that is not fenced. The steppe is essentially a giant grassfield you can ride on. It is also dotted with goat paths and dirt roads to nowhere. You can point to a feature in the distance and just ride there in a straight line. That is a level of freedom that is hard to find riding motorcycles anywhere else.
On day seven, the group had another major split. To the west laid our finish line, a couple hundred kilometers away. To the east, The Amarbayasgalant Monastery.
Chad, Randal, Big Mike, Jeremy and I decided to head east. We rode the asphalt highway until we decided to head to the monastery through the back roads. Then we ran out of roads. We were crossing valleys looking for this legendary monastery. Suddenly we reached the top of a hill and we saw it. As I crested the hill I felt like I was in a Hayao Miyazaki film. It was a serene sight. A beautiful meadow cut by a river, with an imposing walled monastery in the distance. Only the sound of the wind permeated the atmosphere. The air was a fresh as it could be.
That moment will stay with me for the rest of my life.
The Amarbayasgalant Monastery is one of the few historical sites in Mongolia that survived The Stalinist Purges. For decades the site fell in disrepair, and only now the government is working in restoring the site (We walked into the temple and many of the relics were just sitting around the construction site). We were so lucky to have this amazing, historical place to ourselves on a beautiful September afternoon.
The following sunrise we headed west as we were nearing our time limit. At this point we were mostly riding the border between the central steppe and the Mongolian taiga. The taiga is what north americans typically call boreal forest. It is the landscape you imagine when someone mentions Siberia. Endless coniferous forests, snowy mountains, cold lakes, rivers, and waterfalls. This is the landscape that dominates northern Mongolia.
On the ninth day, after riding the pavement with a headwind for 220 kilometers, I left the crew and turned north on a dirt road in search of the authentic Mongolian nomadic experience. After an hour of riding, I stumbled upon a Ger. There I met Tolun, a 74 year old goat herder that welcomed me as if I was her son.
For thousands of years, the people of the steppe have always welcomed strangers into their homes. That day was no different. I had learned some Mongolian nomad etiquette at the start line and had some translations saved in my phone. As soon as I entered her Ger, she started to feed me. Goat yogurt, warm goat milk, goat rib soup, and goat & rice. All of it was delicious.
She then made my bed and we hung out with her dogs and puppy for a while. Her son arrived with their goats, she then fed him and we all went to sleep to the sound of the firewood crackling in the stove. It was a very tranquil night.
That one night at Tolun’s Ger was enough to give my body, my mind, and the way I think a good shake.
The following morning Jeremy met me for breakfast and we headed north, deep into the taiga. The dirt roads took us high up a mountain until we found snow. From the summit everything went downhill, literally and figuratively. At first, we had to wade through deep, muddy roads. After reaching a forested valley, we were wading rivers and riding dirt roads and suddenly the grill on my bike sheared off, leaving my bag hanging to the side. Local kids helped us tie the grill back together, but in the process the relay starter, which is what gives the spark plug the spark, was left hanging. At our 15th river crossing, the river almost took both of us. My engine drowned, and Jeremy's chain came off while he was in the river. Soaking wet and with the help of locals, we managed to get my bike running. Three kilometers from Khukhuu, the village where we planned to sleep, the relay starter got stuck to the wheel while I was going at 45 kilometers per hour, sending me flying into the road. At that point I was very bruised, very wet, and my bike wouldn’t start. Three local farm boys towed me to the village.
That night I learned a lot about motorcycle mechanics. We tried everything to get the bike running again, but we could not fix the relay starter. My only option was a tow to the finish line.
Luckily we ran into Will and his crew that night and they knew the way. We also learned that distance to the finish line was about 60 kilometers. With Will and his crew escorting us, Jeremy towed me across rivers, over hills, and through dense forests all the way to the finish line.
I do not recommend trying to tow a bike with another bike through off road terrain. Having zero control of your motorcycle, especially on downhill roads was terrifying.
The finish line was located in Lake Khovsgol, one of the ancient lakes of the world and the main source of freshwater for Mongolia. This lake holds 0.3% of the freshwater in the world. It was an gorgeous site to finish this adventure. Jeremy and I arrived to the finish line just as it was opening. I was happy to have made it (barely) in one piece.
One by one the rest of the crew as well as the rest of the riders started arriving. The feeling of accomplishment by everyone was palpable. We cheered each and every single one of the arrivals, and celebrated well into the night.
Pioneering a trip across Mongolia on two very small wheels was an incredible experience. For eleven days I rode all kinds of terrain through this still very isolated and untouched Asian country. It was 1850 kilometers of the best fun.
To the Golden Gobis: John, Randal, Jeremy, Shawn, Patricio, Chad, Michael, Andrew, and Big Mike: thank you for the memories. I am so happy that you all decided to join me on this adventure.
Thank you to The Adventurists for engineering this run.
Finally: eternally grateful with Mongolia and its people. The kindness and hospitality I experienced on this trip is something I will apply in my own life.
Incredible adventure! Where to next?