But the bumpy ride into the endless scrub and dirt of the Gobi was fascinating. The bleakness of the barren land emphasized the incredible endurance it takes to endure life in the desert and how difficult the nomad lives in such a bleak environment must be. Nevertheless, each time we stopped seemingly miles from human habitation, within a minute or two a motorcycle or two camels would arrive.  Their owners were quick to set up a table with souvenirs of the Gobi to trade or sell. It was in one of these encounters that  Caroline in our group surprised and amused me.  At the Mongolian barbecue stop, when a husband/wife team arrived via motorcycle, Caroline whipped off the white sweater she had brought along.  The word America was stitched across the sweater front.  Caroline eyed an interesting sheeps' wool hand-made purse she wanted.  She waved the sweater at them. Bartering through hand gestures only, she succeeded in trading the purse for the sweater and just three U.S. dollars.  Everyone rode away happy.

The visit to the Flaming Cliffs was interesting but all too brief, but in the course of our several stops, we did come across several animal skulls and bones (probably of camels) abandoned in  the sand.

We also stopped to visit two kinds of ger camps.

The first, an "agricultural" ger, revealed insights into the way of nomad life.  Just behind their movable ger, the family grew vegetables-- tomatoes and cucumbers--on land that looked simply parched and arid.  But we saw they had a generator in operation, a well dug, and inside the ger,  vegetables
pickling in pots around the room  We understood they sold their vegetables or traded them for the necessities of life.

At the second ger visit, at a camel breeders’ camp, I realized my ambition to ride a two-humped camel. I was uncertain about my chance of success because of my problem knee.  But with a  well-placed shove from the powerful camel owner, I heaved myself onto the saddle blanket and hung on to the hump for dear life.  The hump is all fat and water and diminishes as the summer goes on,  I understand.  Once on, I harumphed my way across the desert, bumping clumsily up and down with Jean jiggling along on her camel behind
me.  A short ride was enough, we both agreed.  But I did it, and a photo, bad as it is, proves my  questionable accomplishment for posterity for all my grandchildren!

These visits to the nomad dwellings as well as our own two-night stay—gave us a good view into the traditional Mongolian way of life. Most Mongolians still live in gers, even in the suburbs of Ulaan Bataar.  There are some good reasons for this—animal hides are still cheap and available, and the culture of the nomad is ingrained in the people. We learned that the typical ger can be put up or taken down in about 30 minutes, according to the camel breeder’s family.  They take down, move and set up elsewhere using their two camels in one day, he said.  The felt-walled dwelling amazingly is quite comfortable and even cozy, and despite looking flimsy, the ger withstands the bitter Mongolian desert winds well.

The door always faces south, is four feet high and painted brightly, often in blue or orange.  There are traditional places for furniture, cooking ware and family alters within the ger walls, evident in the gers we entered.  Later on, after our visits (both to the Buryiat ger and the Mongolian), I read of the many do’s and don’ts of the culture of the ger—I broke several of them just by being left handed, but luckily wasn’t aware of this offence on the scene.

 The desolate stony, scrubby landscape of the Gobi harbors many animals, and we saw some of them, namely, wild camels, herds of wild horses, goats and sheep and occasional yaks. All in all, the Gobi was an extremely forbidding
terrain but one fascinating to visit!  But I’m not ready to move there, despite the cheap ger rent.