“Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above. Don't fence me in
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love. Don't fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze. And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please. Don't fence me in”
Five weeks in and we’ve just about settled into the routine of not having a routine. Mongolia’s landscape, culture and people have exceeded our expectations.
Driving across this spectacularly diverse countyside - grassy steppe, desert sand, pine-clad mountains - where climbing over every rolling hill has led to a vista more beautiful than the last has felt unconstricted, an opportunity to cleanse the senses remaining from the corporate lives we put on hold recently. No longer feeling the need to check an inbox hourly and determine success through a PowerPoint pack and instead a simple focus on the basics - where will we sleep, what can we eat, where will we get fuel?
For Mongolians, possessions are more about function than form. A sturdy horse to round livestock may have been replaced by a motorcycle, but as infrastructure such as paved roads, 24/7 power and mobile connectivity is enjoyed only by larger towns this has meant the continuation of a way of life that has endured for centuries. It’s devastating to witness the impact pollution and desertification is having on these communities.
Fences simply don’t exist, with public-owned land in the country leased to nomadic families for summer pasture. Travelling from A to B there’s no circumnavigation of private land - the route’s direct unless geographically impassable (although they’ll give any river or mountain crossing a good go). I’m indebted to my husband’s incredible driving skills and the car has so far survived with only one replacement tire and a lost front registration plate, but the state of or sometimes lack of roads has been a test of my nerves and possibly our marriage!
We feel privileged to have been able to roam this land freely with so much generosity from the people we’ve met.
The Bing Crosby version of this song was played at my grandpa’s funeral some 30 years ago. I have many happy memories of bouncing around the Somerset countryside in his car (before seatbelts were compulsory!). Grandpa was an unassuming Scot who probably wanted to see more of the world than he did - I hope he’d be proud of his ‘wee girl’.
See our Mongolia photo galleries here.
HG