Why Mongolia? That's a question I'm asked all the time. I'm a college professor at a small college in the mountains western North Carolina with a specialization in military history. On the side I'm also a published author with over thirty novels, most of them in the realm of speculative fiction and military fiction.It seems that whenever I show up at a social gathering, or even at a formal college function, I'm inevitably introduced with the tag line "and Bill has gone on two expeditions to Mongolia."That always seems to ignite the curiosity meters of those around me, and the standard question is "why would you ever want to go there?" Those who know me, usually grin, shake their heads, and leave the poor inquisitor to their fate, for once I start talking about that strange, wondrous, mystical place, its hard for me to stop.The Mongols have a word---"anda." It means that you are more than a friend, more than a brother, you are a chosen companion who shares a special bond. Those whom I have traveled to Mongolia with are my andas. Its fascinating that whenever I get together with an anda, we seem to be a small group apart, immediately talking, reminiscing about our adventures "over there," our shared jokes sprinkled with words like ger, marmot, and our favorite, aureg, which is to Mongolia like wine is to Italy and beer to Germany, (its fermented horse milk which you actually can develop a taste for!)We've shared a remarkable adventure that is hard to stop talking about, and the visions of that country and its people haunt our dreams.
My interest in Mongolia started when I was a kid. I became intrigued with the story of the Mongol invasion of Russia in the 13th century after seeing a movie about it when I was nine. Growing up just outside of NYC my dad use to take me into the Museum of Natural History and I learned about the famous expeditions of Roy Chapman Andrews to Mongolia back in the 1920s. Fantasies of wandering the Gobi, of tracking the history of Chinggis Khan, of sleeping in a ger, which is the traditional circular tent of Mongolia, and sitting about a horse dung fire and listening to throat singers filled my dreams.And like nearly all childhood dreams it remained that, just a dream across more than thirty years while I pursued my career, married, had a family, and settled into the comfortable life of a professor at a small college, my adventures limited to yearly trips to Europe, which though fun, are simply visits to a world and culture we are all familiar with.Then in 1998 I ran into Gus Grabscheid. I remember how the old Reader's Digest use to have a series called "My Most Unforgettable Friend," well Gus fits that description. He's one of those characters that winds up changing the lives of anyone who takes the time to sit back, listen, and hear his tales.
Gus is a world adventurer of the old school, leading the kind of life a lot of us think about but rarely achieve. I'll frankly admit that in my first couple of conversations with Gus I wasn't quite sure how to read him, was he for real, or was he simply a spinner of exciting tales that would never actually become reality for me.His philosophy about living is direct and simple---life is an adventure for anyone, if only you have the will to take the first step out your door and head off to the unknown. His kick, to do it with you and then stand by your side and grin. Like me, I could sense he was a teacher, the difference being that I teach in the quiet halls of academia, he teaches in distant lands that filled our dreams, lands we were never quite sure how to get to.After a lot of thinking and procrastinating I finally signed up with one of Gus' expeditions, to Central Russia for an archaeological dig along the lower Volga River, exploring camp sites of the Mongol Golden Horde.
Though not Mongolia, it was still Mongol territory, the place where the Golden Horde ruled for over two hundred years. It was the start of a great adventure. I should add that anyone who is friends with Gus winds up imitating his favorite line, (spoken with the proper Israeli accent!) "what an adventure."A moment with Gus I'll never forget. We were camped along the Volga, exhausted after a hard day of digging on what we called, "the money pit," having unearthed hundreds of silver coins from the time of Ivan the Terrible. It was about three in the morning and I awoke to Gus saying "bag up your gear, a storm is coming."I could hear distant thunder, but what the heck, I'd camped through many a thunderstorm before. . .but never out on the open plains of Russia! Grumbling I started to pack, wondering what he was worried about. An hour later it hit, and when I say hit, I mean hit. The wind gusts were explosive, the tent bowled over and went tumbling across the steppes, lightning slashed down like artillery rounds as we piled into the jeep. I'll admit, a couple of guys were grumbling, but for me, it was incredible. The stormed reached its climax, sweeping overhead and then I witnessed the most stunning natural phenomena of my life. . .the sun broke the horizon on the far bank of the Volga, the black sky was arced by a double rainbow, with bolts of lightning bursting through the multi-hued arc, the entire sky from horizon to horizon suddenly shifting to golden red.
I stepped out of the jeep and just stood there, stunned, realizing that this was worth a journey half way around the world to see, Gus by my side. He put his hand on my shoulder and I looked over at him. "What an adventure," he whispered, and I'll admit I was in tears, and could only nod my head. After that dig in Russia, Gus and I started to talk about going to the source. . .to Mongolia. The following summer he went on a preliminary check out search, unfortunately work and personal obligations forced me to stay behind. He returned with glowing accounts that fueled my desire to go and finally I did in the summer of 2000, returning again in 2001.Explaining Mongolia stretches my poor ability to write to the limit. Once I signed on it filled my waking thoughts and my dreams. It was like being in high school and anticipating a first date with a girl long pursued, the anticipation of a first day skiing after a long hot summer, or that first drive in a new car. I had spent years studying about Mongolia, now I was finally going to see it.
Being an historian I immersed myself in study, reading and rereading "The Secret History of the Mongols," which is their oral history of the life of Chinggis Khan. I pulled down old popular history's such as Harold Lamb's "March of the Barbarians," and all the other standard texts.
When I stepped off the plane after two very long days of travel I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd been in former communists countries before, and must frankly admit that my first glimpse (and smell) of Ulan Bator at night was not the most promising. There was the one typical attempt at a western style hotel in a sea of late communist apartments, one could still see remnants of old social realist murals, the paint flecking off.
