From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young People

by Sven Anders Hedin

Between China in the south and Eastern Siberia on the north, stretches the immense region of inner Asia which is called Mongolia. The Chinese call it the "grass country," but very large parts of it are waterless desert, where drift-sand is piled up into dunes, and caravan routes and wells are far apart. The belt of desert, one of the largest in the world, is called by the Mongols Gobi, a word which in their language denotes desert. The Chinese call it Shamo, which signifies sandy desert.

Mongolia is subject to China, and the Mongols' spiritual superior or pope is the Dalai Lama. They have also a number of Lama monasteries, and make yearly pilgrimages in large parties to Lhasa. An extraordinary proportion of the male population of the country devote themselves to a religious life and become monks. The Chinese are glad of it, for the peaceful cloister life causes the formerly savage and warlike Mongol hordes to forget their own strength. Services before the image of Buddha in the temple halls lead their thoughts in other directions, and they forget that their people once held the sceptre over almost all Asia and half Europe. They do not remember that their forefathers, the Golden Horde, forced their way seven hundred years ago through the Caucasus, levied tribute throughout Russia, and alarmed all the rest of the West. They have forgotten that their fathers conquered all the Middle Kingdom and digged in yellow earth the Grand Canal on which the junks of the Chinese still ply. The sword has rusted fast in its sheath, and the Mongolian chiefs, whom the Chinese call vassals or dependent princes, encamp peacefully on the steppes under their eight bans.

The Mongols are nomads. They own large flocks of sheep and goats, and live on mutton, milk, butter, and cheese. Among their domestic animals are also the two-humped camel and a small, hardy, strongly built horse. Their life is a perpetual wandering. They move with their flocks from one steppe to another. If the herbage is dried up in a district, or all the pasture is eaten up, they put their tents on camels and set out to find better grazing. Their tents are exactly the same as those of the Kirghizes of the Pamir and the Kirghiz Steppe. They are shaped like haycocks, and consist of a framework of tough ribs covered with black felt.

The Mongols are a good-tempered and amiable people. I made acquaintance with them on the outskirts of their wide domain, and once I travelled right through Mongolia. My starting-point was Peking, and my direction due north-west. It was in the end of March and the beginning of April, 1897. At that time the Trans-Siberian Railway was not completed farther than to Kansk, a small town east of the Yenisei. That was the longest drive I ever took in my life, for from Peking to Kansk the distance is 1800 miles, and I only rested a day on the whole journey, namely at Irkutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia.

In Peking I provided myself with all that was necessary for a journey to the Russian frontier. First and foremost a Chinese passport, which authorised me to call out Mongols and their horses, and, if I wished, to put up in their tents. Then provisions had to be bought—tinned meats, bread, tea, sugar, etc. From the Russian Legation I obtained an escort of two Cossacks, who were very delighted to have this chance of returning to their homes in Siberia after completing their time of service in Peking.

In Mongolia the traveller does not drive in the usual way. There is no driver on the box, and you do not lean back comfortably in a four-wheeled carriage on springs. To begin with, there is no road at all and no rest-houses; but horses must be changed frequently, and this is done in the Mongolian villages. The Mongols, however, are nomads, and their villages are always on the move. Therefore you must know first of all where the villages happen to be, and in the second place must give the people notice to have a certain number of horses ready. A mounted messenger is sent on in advance for this purpose and then the horses are never wanting. Only the Mongols themselves know where the next villages are situated, and so at every village a fresh retinue of Mongols is provided. And because the villages are being constantly moved you can only travel in a straight line between them, and cannot follow any determined route. You drive along over desert and steppe, and usually see no vestige of an old wheel rut.

The vehicle in which you travel is a very simple contrivance. It is a cart on two medium-sized wheels, closed all over with a rounded tilt covered with blue cloth. A small window in front and two side windows allow you to see over the steppe; the window glass is fixed into the stretched cloth so that it cannot be cracked by the jolting. The cart has no springs, and its bottom rests directly on the axles. There is no seat, and the traveller sits on cushions, furs, and rugs, and there is only room for one person. The cart is of the usual Chinese pattern with shafts for a mule or horse. In China the driver sits on one of the shafts or runs alongside. I had my bags strapped on to the base of the shafts. My large baggage was forwarded on camels, and it reached Stockholm six months after I did.

The style of harnessing is the most curious of all. A loop of rope is fastened to the extreme end of each shaft, and a long, rounded cross-bar is passed through the two loops. Two mounted Mongols lay the bar across their knees in the saddle, but no draught animal is put between the shafts. A rope is fastened to each end of the cross-bar and two other riders wind these ropes twice round their bodies. They have all riding whips, and when all is ready the four riders dash at full speed over the steppe, dragging the cart after them.

Twenty other Mongols ride on each side, half hidden in clouds of dust. Suddenly two of them ride up beside the men who hold the cross-bar on their knees. Of their own accord the two fresh horses slip their heads under the bar, letting it fall on to the riders' knees, while the men who are relieved hold in their horses and let the cart roll on. These then join the rest of the troop. The cart does not stop during this change of horses, which is accomplished in a couple of seconds, and a furious pace is always kept up. In the same way the two front riders and their horses are relieved without stopping. When one of them is tired, a fresh rider comes forward and winds the rope round his waist.

After two or three hours a village of several tents is seen on the steppe ahead of us. About thirty horses are held in readiness by the headman of the village, who has been warned the day before by the messenger. At every stage a few roubles[16] are paid to the Mongol attendants. This payment has always to be made in silver roubles, for the Mongols will not take paper money or small coins.