2 weeks in Khuvsgul

Mongolia — July 2025

When I board the night bus from Ulanbaatar to Murun, I have no idea what my destination has in store for me. The only thing I know, I want to get out of the city and in doing so hopefully will get a glimpse of the great Lake Khuvsgul in the north. The journey passes relatively smoothly, with the only minor inconvenience being the driver playing loud Mongolian music on the speaker until midnight. At this time, we are 4 hours into the drive and take the first of two 1-hour meal breaks — this is Asia after all. After this stop, I sleep until the early morning hours, when the rising sun peeks into the window. Mongolians start to get off at seemingly random point along the main street and are welcomed home for the summer by their families.

Summer is not exactly what the weather looks like when we arrive in Murun. It’s rainy and much colder than in the sunny capital. At least my search for a taxi to take me to Hatgal isn’t too long. A man standing by the bus door offers me a ride for 40’000 MNT which I gladly accept. However, the price later increases, because he couldn’t find another passenger to share the cost. But finally, I pay a median price of 60’000 MNT, splitting the cost with my host who asks the driver to deliver a parcel that has just been shipped from UB by my bus. Once the negociation has been concluded, we finally take off on the countryside road to Hatgal. There I am warmly welcomed at Mongol Ujin Camp by Daava.

The businesswoman has been running the lodge for 13 years. This summer her sister, father, and 3 kids are helping out alongside the 2 other staff members. The chef Togo is just preparing steamed “rainy day”-dumplings that are served in the Mongolian signature salted milk tea. While we wait for the meal to be ready, Daava explains what she needs help with. Her main goal is for her kids – 2 boys age 11 and 13 – to improve their English. The fact that teenagers are certainly not the easiest age group to teach combined with my lack of teaching experience may seem daunting to some. But a positive mindset goes a long way. So after lunch, I settle in my cozy cabin and try to remember all kinds of games I enjoyed playing as a kid, as well as during language courses abroad.

The next day Daava, her sister Tigit and I meet up at 8am for a yoga session. However, one of the kids misplaced the key for the storage cabin, so we only have 1 mat to work with. After a little bit of glorified stretching on my part, we have a breakfast of vegetable soup with rice. Then Daava tells me about the sustainable practices she’s working on to combat the seasonality of Mongolia’s tourism industry. One example is the ice marathon she’s organizing on the frozen Lake Khuvsgul annually together with a British partner. Looking at the pictures of last year’s event, I vow to return as a volunteer for the next edition in March 2026 if my travel budget allows it. After a delicious Pizza lunch – who knew I’d be eating this well in Mongolia? – my first attempt at teaching the kids fails. But fortunately, I have a back-up plan, and we end up playing the strategy game “Sequence” for 2 hours straight.

The next days follow the same routine, accompanied by the same cold and rainy weather. Luckily, the fire in the oven inside my cabin is lit everyday at around 9pm, to keep me warm before falling asleep under my sleepingbag and blanket. One evening, I’m already bundled up for bed when I realize that the rain stopped. Scenting a chance for a dry walk to the toilet house, I step outside and am greeted by a huuuge double rainbow. Looking around, I’m not the only one who took note of the welcome change in weather. The rest of the family is also coming out of their cabins, and I even spot a wild rabbit hopping away from the flower field in front of my hut. This is not the only time I have a closer encounter than usual with local (semi)-wildlife.

Another evening when I return to my cabin I find 3 yaks grazing outside the door. While it’s normal for them to hang out in the field outside the camp, it’s new for me to see them inside the fence. But nobody seems to care, so I just walk past them and go to bed. A few days later, I have a less pleasant interaction with one of the long-haired cows. On a walk with Daava’s niece Giiguuleh and her dog Bingley, the small pinscher is a little too excited about meeting fellow four-legged animals. As we approach the edge of the lake, the dog attempts to run towards the grazing horses and yaks in greeting. But unfortunately, his good intentions are met with anger on the yaks’ behalf. I instruct Gigguuleh to slowly walk back towards the camp, clutching small Bingley under her arm. As we cross the large field, one yak keeps following us for a while, but eventually is satisfied with our retreat and returns to his herd.

When the sun finally makes an appearance after days of rain, I get the chance to join a group of visitors from UB for an afternoon boat ride on the lake. A short drive to the outskirts of the town takes us to the motorboat terminal. Here, my companions inform me that we’ll have to wait about 20 minutes before departure, just enough time to take some pictures on the large ferry parked nearby. Then it’s time to fasten the brightly colored life vests and take a seat in the much smaller boat taking us across the lake in high speed. The drivers really go all out to satisfy the Mongolian tourists’ craving for adrenaline. Meanwhile, the highlight for me is the stunning view of the crystal clear water in front of the tundra mountains.

The scenery reminds me of my hometown in Switzerland and makes me crave a swim. Seizing every moment of sunshine, I invite the kids to go swimming the next day. During our routine of playing word games in English, I learned that Daava’s son Beda is quite used to swim in the river flowing into Lake Khuvsgul. His cousin Giiguuleh though grew up in the city and was never taught how to swim. So together we do our best in teaching her now. But the cold water temperature doesn’t make it easy for either of us. We end up spending more time outside the water, looking at the scenery and the other visitors relaxing in the sun by the water. There is plenty of space to chill in the grass, the only thing one must avoid is the heaps of yak and horse dung. I hope the animals also know about the rule prohibiting soiling the lake water, as it’s a fresh water source for the locals.

With the peak of the local holiday season approaching, new guests arrive at the camp every day. The next group provides me with an opportunity to visit a local nomad family. An eventful day trip that somehow turns into a sleepover in their Ger. Read more about that in a future post. When we return in the afternoon, it’s still sunny, but rain clouds are fast approaching. So we have to work quickly to fix the roof of the common area to prevent water from dripping through the wooden ceiling. And a TV is being installed in anticipation of the Naadam festivities. Apart from the local games in Hatgal, everyone is looking forward to watching the grand opening ceremony and national competitions held in Ulaanbaatar.

For Naadam, there are also a bunch of international tourists staying in the camp. Marcela & Alan, an experienced overlander couple, are the first to arrive. We spend insightful hours together discussing our various adventures around the world. The next to arrive is Livio, a first-time solo traveler from Italy. As he is a little clueless and unprepared, the Colombian-British couple and I take him under our wings and share some travel wisdom over coffee and cake at New Roots Coffeeshop. Still craving more sweets, we stroll over to the supermarket square, where we marvel at the international products on offer. As we walk back to the camp, we immediately eat the ice cream that we just bought. About halfway in, Marcela stops to say hello to some seemingly friendly dogs lounging next to the dirt road. They are very appreciative of the cuddles they receive, but one of them takes it a little too far, playfully biting my butt as we leave.

The next day, Giiguuleh’s aunt arrives with her husband and a friend for Naadam. Her English is excellent, so I talk to her a lot, and she serves as my translator during the late night drinking sessions in the backyard. The aunt, her husband, Daava and her sister as well as her husband grew up in the same neighbourhood, so there are many anecdotes from their youth and childhood. Their departure is also my time to say goodbye to Hatgal. For a short time, I consider extending my stay for a camping trip to some hot springs with Daava and another guest. But when this gets cancelled, I gladly accept the offer of 3 Scandinavian travelers to join their off-grid camping adventure towards the south. I almost gave up on visiting Arkhangai, but with a private driver for 7 days, there are no limits to places to be explored. But that story is for another time.