Things that go bump in the night

Traditional archery is still very popular in Mongolia. Picture / Jim Eagles

When the door opened in the middle of the night and a mysterious figure in strange clothes, carrying a sort of spy torch emitting only a pale blue light, tiptoed inside I woke with a start. Was this a Mongolian bandit?

But then the intruder started feeding wood into the metal stove in the centre of the room and I remembered it was all part of the service.

We were staying in a camp in the wilds of rural Mongolia, in the Dugana valley 100km north of the capital Ulaan Bataar, where even at the height of summer the nights are decidedly chilly.

Although the round Mongolian ger tents are insulated with a thick layer of felt, we definitely needed the heat of the wood stoves.

Unfortunately, the wood they use is extremely light and burns very quickly - traditionally they burned dung but maybe that was considered too much for tourists - so during the night the ger fluctuated from being too hot to too cold depending on when the stove was last stoked.

For us this was merely a minor discomfort, a matter of pulling duvets on and off. But living in a ger did give a small indication of what life is like for those nomads who still roam Mongolia's vast grasslands.

The valley where this camp is based is, in summer at least, a veritable Shangri-la.

The wide grass floor of the valley, with a river meandering peacefully down the middle, is flanked by steep hills forested with silver birch trees and topped by formidable mountains.

Here and there are dotted the traditional white ger of the nomads. and in some places more permanent establishments of wooden huts and sheds.

Across the grasslands surrounding these few signs of a fledgling civilisation roam herds of horses, goats, sheep and cattle, unrestricted by fences, their movements patrolled by Mongolian cowboys.

The Dugana Khad camp offers a range of tourist activities - including the chance to ride horses and camels, although only on a lead - and to try your hand at archery.

But the greatest pleasure comes from simply wandering around watching the beautiful horses, admiring the incredible horsemanship of the riders, and enjoying the beauty of the countryside.

Close to our camp was the sacred Dugana rock after which the area is named, a huge hunk of stone weathered by the ages into intriguing shapes, flanked by thickets of silver birch, and providing a home for countless birds, including a family of eagles.

Nearby was a shrine in the Shamanist tradition still strong in Mongolia, with a cairn of stones surmounted by a wooden frame, all decorated with blue ribbons to show allegiance to the eternal blue sky worshipped by their great ancestor, Genghis Khan.

Strolling there early one morning we found ourselves face to face with a dozen horses who eyed us briefly but then continued grazing, two foals breaking off a game of tag to suckle from their mothers, while the stallion quietly moved into position between the intruders and his herd.

Along the dirt road behind came a small wooden cart drawn by a cow and driven by an old man whose weatherbeaten face testified to a life in the open in one of the harshest climates in the world.

Later, we watched while three cowboys, carrying long wooden poles with loops of rope at the end, herded some cows into a tight bunch before roping a couple. Soon after, another cowboy thundered by, leading a string of horses. It all added up to a picture of a nomadic lifestyle which appears to have changed little over the centuries.

Later, by arrangement, we visited a nomad family further down the valley and discovered that though in many ways their life has been unaffected by the modern world, a few things have changed.

Father, mother and young son greeted us at the door of their ger - which despite its size and complexity can be packed up ready for transport in less than an hour - looking every inch the traditional family.

This picture was slightly undermined by the large satellite dish and solar panel outside the tent and the flat-screen television set and fancy stereo tucked into a corner inside.

But the rest of the ger seemed entirely traditional, with a metal stove on which they were cooking, a brightly painted spoke roof, the obligatory picture of Genghis Khan, a painting of a famous Mongolian racehorse, carpets that featured horse scenes, a horsehead fiddle - "It is played at special times to clear the spirits," explained the father - plus chests for clothes and cooking utensils, a few low tables and some mattresses stacked in a corner.

A smaller ger nearby seemed to be the home of an aged parent who nodded amiably from the doorway at the visiting foreigners and then retreated inside.

Invited to lunch with the family we enjoyed Mongolian milk tea - it's boiled again after the milk has been added - and mutton soup with big chunks of meat and homemade noodles, deep-fried bread, deep-fried vegetable patties and thick, rich chunks of clotted cream. Mmmm. My one disappointment was that they didn't have any airag - fermented mare's milk - because the season for making that was still a few weeks away.

There was a small four-wheel-drive truck parked nearby, which is apparently what they use, in place of the traditional ox cart, to transport their belongings when they move to another campsite. But while a truck may be useful, it is still the horse around which their lives revolve.

Asked to show us his horse, the father's eyes lit up and he enthusiastically brought over his riding mount which had been tethered nearby.

He fastened the brightly painted saddle and dashed about with the delight of a small boy but the skill of a born horseman.

It was obvious that whatever else has changed in Mongolia over the past 800 years the love of horses which made Genghis Khan victorious still lives in his homeland.

In winter, when the ground is covered with snow, temperatures reach 20C below and livestock have to be brought into the ger to keep them alive - their life must be a harsh one.

But for a few hot days in summer the Dugana Valley seemed idyllic and the sort of place it would be nice to return to for a longer stay.

* Jim Eagles' trip was assisted by Singapore Airlines and Travel Directors.