Mongolia | Gov-Altai Aimag | Tsogt

On the way back from Eej Khairkhan Uul we stopped at the village of Tsogt, high on the wind-swept plateau between the basin of the Gobi Desert to the south and the Biger Depression to the north. The village itself is at an elevation of over 7500 feet. Once an important way-station on the Uliastai–Shar Kuls–Gongpochuan–Suzhou Caravan Route, it also figured prominently in the life of Dambijantsan. He recruited several disciples here and two of his wives. The wives’ names were Myadag and Nyamaa. Myadag reportedly was responsible for making Dambijantsan’s boots and Nyamaa his deels. Myadag and Nyamaa both returned to Tsogt after Dambijantsan was killed. Nyamaa apparently lived until at least the 1960s. Nyamaa claimed that she made Dambijantsan a deel of yellow silk which opened on the left instead of the right. She could not explain why she did this. According to local legend this was the deel Dambijantsan was killed in.

There was also a man named Saaral Jamsran who lived in Tsogt. One day in late 1922 a local official, apparently at that time a Bolshevik commissar, called him in and introduced him to three men who asked if he knew the way to Gongpochuan in Gansu Province. He said he did, and they said “Good, now you are our guide. You must take us there.” He asked why they wanted to go to Gongpochuan. “It’s none of your affair. Just serve as our guide,” one of the men said. Saaral Jamsran agreed. Unbeknownst to him the three men had been sent to assassinate Dambijantsan. One day before they reached Gongpochuan he asked again what they were going to do there. This time one of the man explained that they were just on a hunting trip, hoping to bag some wild sheep or ibex. Saaral Jamsran offered to tell their fortune by reading the patterns on a scorched shoulder blade of a sheep. He did so and then said, “Well, I can see your hunting trip is going to be very successful and that you will find your prey.” The next day they arrived at Gongpochuan. After the assassins killed Dambijantsan, it was, according to local legend, Saaral Jamsran who killed his famous white dog. Saaral Jamsran lived in Tsogt and died in 1960.

While in Tsogt I was able to met with eighty-two year oid Sodnompil and his seventy-four year-old wife Tsiideleg. Tsiideleg says that while at Gongpochuan Dambijantsan sent a message to the head of Tsogt village asking that he send him a “pretty young woman” and “a pretty boy.” She was unable to explain why Dambijantsan wanted a “a pretty boy.” The official was afraid of Dambijantsan and did in fact send him a woman named Otgon and a twenty year-old youth—perhaps pretty but not a boy—named Lavig to Gongpochuan. After Dambijantsan was assassinated they both returned to Tsogt. She also said that her father saw Dambijantsan’s head when it was brought by his assassins from Gongpochuan. One day, she says, he was out looking after his herds when he saw a small caravan of sixteen camels led by two men approaching Tsogt. He rode over to chat with the caravan men. They said they had just come from Gongpochuan and that Dambijantsan had been killed. As proof of this statement they showed him Dambijantsan’s bloody head. Tsiideleg’s father said it was “a horrible thing,” and he quickly rode away without asking anymore questions.

Sodnompil and Tsiideleg

Sodnompil was able to add some information about Lama Ravdan at Eej Khairkhan Uul. He says his father once gave Ravdan a horse. Everyday Lama Ravdan would take this horse and water it at a small rivulet known as Tsoojiin (“Lock”) Gol, on the south side of Eej Khairkhan He also says Lama Ravdan was well-known for producing rain. He says there was a herdsman on the west side of Eej Khairkhan Uul who also farmed some small fields. There was a drought one summer and his crops were dying. Lama Ravdan came and offered to make it rain. He sat down and began various meditations. Although there was a perfectly clear sky a dark cloud soon appeared from beyond Eej Khairkhan Uul and then drifted above the farmer’s fields. Soon it rained and then the cloud disappeared. Lama Ravdan, Sodnompil claimed, became very well known after this incident.

Tsogt was also the site of a monastery known as Tsogtiin Tsogchin Chas. It was destroyed in the late 1930s. The ruins were once surrounded by numerous gers. Then people started noticing lights hovering over the ruins at night and hearing strange noises. This continued for several years. Finally the people got spooked and began moving their gers to the other side of town. Today there are no gers anywhere around the ruins of the monastery.

Just visible foundations of the temples at Tsogt. The area around the temples is now completely deserted.

Mongolia | Gov-Altai Aimag | Ülzii Bilegt

I had the GPS coordinates for Ülzii Bilegt and Sükhee had been here six or seven years ago with some scientists studying Gobi bears, so I did not anticipate any problems finding the place. It was just three miles as the crow flies from the mouth the canyon. The canyon floor was from fifty to 300 feet wide, and on either side rose unscalable cliffs. Sükhee said that the canyon was the only access to Ülzii Bilegt. If anyone had wanted to flush Dambijantsan out of his lair they would have to come this way. And the whole time they would be fully exposed on the barren canyon bottom. On a crag to the left we see a small stone tower. This was one of Dambijantsan’s lookout posts. Guards were stationed here to warn of the approach of soldiers or other unwanted intruders.

Canyon leading to Ülzii Bilegt

A little farther on a group of six ibex stood at the top of the unscalable cliffs. I suddenly had the odd notion that they only appeared to be ibex, but that they were actually sentinels standing guard over the approach to Ülzii Bilegt. Then I had the even odder notion that the Gobi Bear had been intended to scare us away but that we had not heeded the warning. My imagination was clearly running away with me. I starting shivering slightly. Was I catching a cold? In order to get a grip on reality I checked my GPS. We had been traveling for over an hour but Ülzii Bilegt was still two miles away as the crow flies. We had taken several hairpin turns and seemed to be just doubling back on ourselves. I asked Sükhee how much farther we had to go. He did not reply and I had to ask him again. Finally he said, “I do not know. Everything looks different from last time.”

Continuing up the canyon to Ülzii Bilegt

We rode for another hour and went around several more hairpin turns. Still no sight of any tooroi trees or ruins. Finally Tsogoo told us to stay put and he would scout on ahead by himself. The ridge to our right was climbable, and after Tsogoo left Sükhee said he would climb to the top of the spine of rock and try to see where we were. About fifteen minutes later Tsogoo reappeared about 500 yards up the canyon and shouted for us to bring the camels. Then Sükhee shouted from the top of the ridge that Ülzii Bilegt was right on the other side. The canyon had doubled back on itself again.

But now the camels refused to budge. They craned their necks and peered nervously around the ridges on both sides of the canyon. When we tried to pull them by their lead ropes they simply refused to move, bawling and shrieking the whole time. Did they sense a bear, or wolves, or something else? I did not know. Finally Uyanga lost all patience. She had been born a country girl and had grown up around livestock and she had clearly had enough of these obstreperous camels. She grabbed a good-sized tooroi limb and wading into the camels swinging left and right, whacking away at their flanks. With much bawling and caterwauling they finally started moving forward. We rounded the last hairpin turn and there in front of us was a stand of tooroi trees. This was the oasis of Ülzii Bilegt. Sükhee had come down the ridge on foot and met us there.

The oasis of Ülzii Bilegt

Grove of tooroi trees at Ülzii Bilegt

We lead the camels to the north side of the grove and start unloading them. Tsogoo said something to Sükhee and suddenly they had a furious exchange of words. They stopped for a bit, glowering, and then Sükhee said something. Now Tsogoo was furious. I thought for a moment the two men might get in a fist fight. Tsogoo and Sükhee had known each other all their lives and seemed to have been on the best of terms on the trip so far. I could not understand what was going on. Mojik explained that Tsogoo had told Sükhee he should stay with us and the camels when he himself had ridden on ahead, but instead Sükhee had decided to climb the ridge by himself, leaving us alone to deal with the camels. That was true, but it hardly seemed like an issue worth fighting over.

We got a fire going and Uyanga starting making a late lunch. I noticed there was something wrong with her. So far on this trip she had always seemed to be in good spirits, always laughing and joking with the camel men and Mojik. Even after the camel stampede and through the difficulties of cooking in the cold and wind she always seemed unperturbed. I myself had come to always expect her big radiant smile in any situation. Now she hunched by the fire, her mouth drawn down at the corners. She kept glancing up furtively at the surrounding ridges, as if afraid of what she see might see. “What’s wrong with her?" I asked Mojik. “She doesn’t like this place. She says there is something wrong here. She doesn’t want to camp here tonight. She wants to leave.” Not knowing what to make of this I went to pick out a place to sleep that night. Suddenly I hear Mojik and Uyanga yelling at each other. Uyanga is clearly angry. Mojik stomped off and begin to set up her own tent. I went over and asked what was going on. “Well, all I said to was that the food bags and cooking gear were thrown all around the camp and wouldn’t it be better if she tidied up a little bit. She yelled at me that she was in charge of the camp and cooking and that I should mind my own business.” Mojik and Uyanga had been on the best of terms up until now and the behavior of both girls seemed to be entirely out of character. Now it appeared the whole camp was out of sorts. It was almost as if there was something in the atmosphere that was discombobulating people.

We ate our dinner in silence. At one point Tsogoo got up, walked about fifty feet away and stood there peering at the surrounding ridges. He came back and sat down. “There’s something wrong with this place,” he said. After our meal I walked over to a slightly raised level area between the grove of tooroi trees and the cliffs. There I discovered a curious stone design laid out on the ground. A square had been outlined with black stones. On one side there was a opening with rocks on either side. In the middle of the square was a flat rock that looked like an altar of some kind. I remember reading that Dambijantsan made his people at Gongpochuan construct mandalas out of rocks laid out on the desert. Was this some kind of similar construction? I called Tsogoo over and asked him what it was. He approached to within fifty feet, took a look, said “I don’t know, ” then turned and walked away. I had the feeling he did not even want to come close to this rock design, whatever it was.

The stone design

Leaving the camp to stew I went off to find the ruins of Dambijantsan’s house, which were supposed to be up the valley a half mile or so. I tried to analyze my feelings. I remembered the strange sensation I had riding up the canyon, the feeling that we were being watched by the ibex, and it was true that the black crumbly hills on either side of the valley seemed foreboding, somehow menacing. What had Dambijantsan done here? What thought traces still lingered at this place? I knew from informants I had talked to earlier that summer in Bayankhongor that some people believe Dambijantsan’s spirit still exists and to this day haunts his former hangouts. I had dismissed these tales but here in this strange place they suddenly take on a new meaning.

I remembered what I had read about Dambijantsan’s fortress at Gongpochuan. Owen Lattimore, who visited there in 1926, wrote,

“In the fortress itself there is a cramped and sinister feeling. I did not feel happy. Withered in the light of the noonday sun almost to the dingy color of the hill on which they stood, and lying so empty and quiet in that utter emptiness of marsh and hill, brief patches of living land and long stretches of desolation, the rifled ruins seem to be oppressed by something uncanny. I did not wonder that the few frequenters of the wilderness should avoid them and whatever ghosts they harbor.”

The Roerich Expedition visited the ruins at Gongpochuan in 1927. The Roerichs were also struck by something sinister. Their camel men would not even approach the ruins of Dambijantsan’s fortress. Roerich wrote:

“The men who were usually quite disciplined, made a flat refusal. They said they were ready to fight Chinese, Tibetans, or Mongols, but they would never enter the fortress of Ja Lama or fight with his men.”

I finally find the ruins of Dambijantsan’s stone cabin. It was here that he had lived while robbing caravans. Nearby are some ovoos of exactly the same barrel-like construction we had seen on the trail here.

Ruins of Dambijantsan’s house

Above the cabin, along the face of a black cliff, is a stone fortification which overlooks the approach to Dambijantsan’s cabin. His men were stationed here to protect him. I sit for an hour at the fortifications overlooking Dambijantsan’s house, trying to imagine what had happened here. Crows wheel in the air above the ruins. Dambijantsan had two pet crows which he had trained to talk. Zeskhüü in Ekhiin Gol had told me about a legend that Dambijantsan could travel through the air with the spirits of his crows. The assassins who had killed Dambijantsan had also killed his crows. After the assassins had left some of his followers put the dead crows under the armpits of his body so that their spirits could continue to ride together on the winds of the Gobi.

Fortifications against the base of the cliff

Fortifications

Looking down the valley from the fortifications

Curiously enough that night I slept the sleep of the Just. I did not dream anything nor did I wake up during the night. The others reported that they had heard rocks falling off the nearby cliffs and Tsogoo noted that the camels had been restless all night. It turned out to be a warm day, with a faultless dome of azure sky overhead. We had a big lunch of khorkhog, mutton cooked in a pot with stones which had been heated in the fire. It was probably the best meal we had on the trip. This raised everyone’s spirits. Yesterday’s disagreements and arguments seem to have dissipated. I for one did not want to leave so quickly. After all we had ridden seven long days to get here. Tsogoo pointed out that the camels were tired and could use a day’s rest too, so we decided to stay another night. Uyanga did not looked 100% pleased, but her radiant smile was slowly returning.

Khorkhog

There is no spring here at Ulzii Bilegt but Tsogoo says that in the old days there were several wells. Sükhee went up to Dambijantsan’s cabin and dug a hole, hitting water at about three feet deep. This watercourse here was probably once reason why Dambijantsan built his cabin where he did.

The small well dug by Sükhee

The next morning we left early. Uyanga and Mojik were all smiles. The moment we turned and headed down the canyon the camels with their uncanny perception knew we were on the return leg of our journey and stepped out at a sprightly gait, their heads held high, even though we had six more days to ride. Even they looked happy. Two hours later we had emerged from the canyon leading to Dambijantsan’s hideout. I could only hope that whatever we found there had been left behind.

Mojik and Uyanga all smiles as we are about to leave Ülzii Bilegt

Mongolia | Bayankhongor Aimag | Ja Lama's Hideouts

During my talks with Zekhuu in Ekhiin Gol he mentioned that Dambijantsan (a.k.a. Ja Lama) maintained a hideout in the mountains twenty or thirty miles south of Shar Khuls Oasis, in western Bayankhongor. I had visited Shar Khuls Oasis (Yellow Reeds Oasis) a few years earlier on a 12-day camel trip from Amurbuyant Monastery to Ekhiin Gol. Shar Khuls was the crossroads of several old caravan routes and one of the camp sites of the 13th Dalai Lama when he fled from Tibet to Mongolia in 1904 following the invasion of Tibet by Arch-Imperialist and later Proto-New-Ager Francis Younghusband. It is perhaps now best known as one of the prime habitats of the rare Gobi Bear, or masaalai.

Zekhuu said that the ruins of a small stone house that Dambijantsan lived in as well as some watchtowers and fortifications could still be seen at the hideout. He added said the hideout was quite difficult to find and that he was unable to give verbal directions to the place. He was busy with his vegetable crop at the moment but if I ever returned to Ekhiin Gol in the off-season he would be glad to take me there. Just before we left, he added as an afterthought that we should talk to a man in Shinejinst named Shukhee. This man might have more information about Dambijantsan.

It was 96º F. when we left Ekhiin Gol. The desert floor slopes up almost imperceptibly from here at 3224 feet to a pass through the Gov-Altai Mountains known as Tsagaan Khaalga (White Gate) at 7407 feet. The only real indication that we have gained 4183 feet in altitude is the rapidly dropping temperatures.

Tsagaan Khaalga (White Gate)

By the time we reached Shinejinst, a couple of hundred feet lower than the pass, a drizzling rain and gusting winds made the 58º temperature seem downright chilly. Half a dozen enquiries later we finally found Shukhee’s ger in a wooden-walled compound in one of the ger neighborhoods. We entered to find a large elderly shaven-headed man sitting cross-legged on his bed. The first thing I noticed about him were his enormous ears, the kind often seen on old monks in Mongolia. They are supposed to be a sign of spiritual propensities. Zanabazar, the First Bogd Gegeen of Mongolia, is always portrayed with huge ears. Also, his eyes had that milky, inwardly-turned look often seen on old monks, as if they had spent the greater part of the lives examining interior realities. If he was a monk, however, he was dressed rather incongruously in red silk Chinese pants and a rather stylish red and blue striped shirt.

Shukhee

“What do you want?” he abruptly enquired, without any introduction. We told him that we were seeking information about Damijantsan and we had heard that he might know something about him. The old man simply sat there for at least three minutes not saying a thing. For a moment I thought we going to be shown the door. Then he just shrugged and said, “What can I tell you?” Hoping to break the ice I asked if he was born here in Shinejinst. “No,” he said, “I was born in the Himalayas.” The Himalayas? This interview was suddenly taking an unexpected turn. Where in the Himalayas? I asked. “In the mountains between Hami and Barkol.” Hami and Barkol are towns in Xinjiang, China, and the mountains between them are the Tian Shan, the majestic range that separates the Zungarian Depression and the Tarim Basin, and not the Himalayas. “You mean the Tian Shan?” I asked. “Oh yes, in Chinese the Tian Shan.” I have no idea why he said the Himalayas, unless for him “Himalayas” was just a generic term for high, snowy mountains. He said that at that time there were many Mongolians living in this area. Anyhow, at the age of sixteen or so his family moved to Gongpochuan, in Ganzu Province, China, site of Dambijantsan’s last stronghold, and where he was finally assassinated. He was 87 years old—born in 1920—so this would have been around 1936.

Shukhee

They lived at Gongpochuan for two years and he had often visited the ruins of Dambijantsan’s fortress. He said that on the hillside above the fortress were thirteen springs. On the top of the hill was a small baishin, or cabin. Dambijantsan apparently lived in this baishin in the summertime. Between Dambijantsan’s own winter lodging in the fortress and the baishin there was a sizable tunnel capable of holding perhaps a hundred people. He could not say if it was natural or man-made, but he did say that the walls of the cave were covered with paintings of Buddhist deities, portraits of famous lamas, and more mundane subjects like camels and horses. This would imply that the walls were smooth enough to serve as a surface for paintings and thus would appear to be man-made. This tunnel served as both an underground storage place and a possible escape route in case the fortress was attacked.

Around the fortress there were palisades that once housed at least 40 families. They had been driven from the palisades after Dambijantsan had been killed. At the time Shukhee was there many had already moved to the Edrin Nuruu ( Edrin Mountain Range) in Gov-Altai Aimag, but some still lived in the surrounding area. He said that there were also many other Gov-Altai people in Gansu province at this time, not Dambijantsan’s followers, but refugees from the new communist government in Mongolia. The last of Dambijantsan’s followers returned to Mongolia in 1944-45 and also settled around Edrin Nuruu, where they became know as the New People.

What was his profession, I wondered. He shrugged, “I was just a herder.” He really did not look like a simple herder to me, but I did not pursue this further.

He also mentioned there were two caravan routes from Mongolia to Suzhou (now Jiayuan) in Gansu; one from Tsogt in Gov-Altai and one from Amarbuyant in Bayankhongor. Both passed through Gongpochuan. He had taken both these routes many times by camel. I had already done the Amarbuyant to Shar Khuls section of the latter route, as mentioned above.

I asked him about his own opinion of Dambijantsan. He said,

“I have no opinion about Dambijantsan. Whether he was a good man or a bad man I cannot say, because I did not know him. I cannot judge him. I can say that my parents, who were alive when Dambijantsan was alive, believed that that he was a sly, crafty, and cruel man who had great power over people and could easily manipulate them. In the end they believed he was a bad man.”

Finally I asked if he any more he would like to say anything more about Dambijantsan or Gongpochuan. He said, “I have nothing more to say about anything. Now I am just sitting here waiting to die.” One that somber note we made our departure.

We proceeded to a gas station to refuel our jeep. A man who was there also getting fuel said, “Oh, I saw that were visiting Lama Shukhee.” Lama Shukhee? “I thought he was a goat herder,” said I. He laughed. “Oh, no, no, he is a quite famous lama in Bayankhongor.” I had a sidebar with Shandas, my translator, and it turns out that she asked him what his profession was when he was living at Gongpochuan, when he was in his teens. Apparently at that time he was still looking after his family’s herds. Only later did he take up a religious vocation. I thought about going back and questioning him again about his life as a lama, but then remembered his last words and decided against it.

Mongolia | Bayankhongor Aimag | Ekhiin Gol Oasis

Bopped out to Bayankhongor for a quick visit to Ekhin Gol Oasis, the southernmost settlement of the aimag. After dropping down from the high plateau around Shinejinst to the Gobi Desert the first oasis we encountered was Zuunmod.

Zuunmod Oasis

From Zuunmod we went south to Nogoon Tsav, a picturesque assortment of green (nogoon), red, white and black rock formations. Dinosaur bones are occasionally found here.

Nogoon Tsav

Rock formations south of Nogoon Tsav

The Wedding Ovoos. Locals who get married alway stop here to built an ovoo and down a bottle or two of vodka.

After traveling for over sixty miles through the barren desert it is a downright shock to come to the luxurious greenery of Ekhiin Gol Oasis.

Ekhiin Gol Oasis

All kinds of vegetables grow here in amazing profusion, including tomatoes (for which the oasis is famous), cabbage, cucumbers, carrots, onions, potatoes, and all kinds of melons.

Also sunflowers!

One of the seven springs which feed Ekhiin Gol Oasis

My main reason for visiting Ekhiin Gol was to track down information on Dambijantsan, a.k.a. Dambijaltsan, Dambija, Ja Lama, Ja Bagsh, Toushegun Lama, False Lama, Avenger Lama, Two Camel Lama, and Chia (Jia in Pinyin) Lama. Earlier this year I had tried to visit Dambijantsan’s Fortress in the Black Gobi. Now I wanted to meet with an eighty-year old man named Zeskhüü whose wife, now deceased, was the daughter of Dambijantsan’s chief lieutenant. This man had a wealth of information about Dambijantsan which he was not at all hesitant to share. We talked to him for a total of five or six hours. I will have details of his revelations about Dambijantsan later.

Zeskhüü

Zeskhüü

Shandas, who accompanied me on the trip. She is an excellent translator and a very personable young woman. I learned a lot from her.