The Gobi Desert covers half a million square miles in the heart of Central Asia. It's roughly five times as big as the state of Colorado.

We were apprehensive about flying aboard a Russian AN-24, and that it would have to land on a rough runway of a remote airport in Mongolia's Gobi Desert. Flying on these planes is a bit of an adventure, at least for those of us used to comfort.

Just before we took off from Ulaanbaatar, the capital city of Mongolia, our co-pilot threw a sheep’s carcass in the space between the passenger cabin and cockpit. A woman sat with her husband who was on a stretcher in the cargo area. Out there was horizons of desert and here we were attempting to land where air traffic control is a vague concept.

We did land. Surprisingly, it was as comfortable and safe an arrival as one would wish for. Our first impression of the airport was that it was so full of people, but not tourists. Outside, the Gobi's illusion of unimaginable miles of flatness fading to distant hills gave no signs of life. Its special magic is heaven for fans of open spaces which is not lost on the rest of us who sense the majesty of the Gobi.

A guide met us and escorted us to the an old Russian van that would have to carry us hundreds of miles. He assured us it was the best vehicle in the country to operate because it was so much easier to find spare parts for and easy to repair in the middle of nowhere without help from handy auto club. Geographically we were in the western mountains of Mongolia where we would have to cross deep, fast moving mountain rivers. Not far along the van stops running because the engine got wet—no problem for the driver who didn’t even have to get out (an otherwise uncomfortable thought as we were mid-stream) because repairs were easy to make from the inside of the van. He made his point about "the best vehicle in the country."

What to Travel In

The guide told us it is highly recommended for travelers wishing to see remote Mongolia to hire Russian 4-WD vehicles rather than the more comfortable western jeeps (SUVs). Jeeps have only been on Mongolian roads a few years and although there are now many available, Mongolian drivers not yet familiar with all of them and when they break-down, as many are prone to do, you simply can not find anyone to fix them. On the other hand it may make for an interesting experience—living with the locals or camping out until help comes along. Russian vehicles are fixed relatively easily they have been on Mongolia's roads for 70 years now.

In the Gobi there were no real roads nor sign posts—just dirt tracks (traveling by van in the Gobi is not for anyone who can't handle being shaken about). But any discomfort is soon distracted by witnessing the unerring navigation of these drivers. They miraculously seem to always chose the correct fork of a dirt track, or dead-reckon cross-country when there were no tracks to follow.

Dead Reckoning Gobi Style

The guide says we are heading north because of the gers we see along the way (traditional Mongolian dwellings) are facing south. It's navigation by building orientation—probably not much different than what migrating animals do! Of course, help is always available from local people if you get lost. But even local directions have a language of their own (particularly in Gobi). One should be careful, however, as locals will always say you are close to your destination which is done with a sweeping wave of the arms. The angle they are sweeping represents how far you have to go. So, how far is close when the arm sweep is 160 degrees? It’s relative, remembering that 160 degrees is much further than 90 degrees. It's a fascinating and telling nuance of life in the Gobi—a place where you can almost always see 20 or more miles in any direction and those miles always seem so much shorter a distance than they are. So, the custom is to say, "you are close" to your destination.

The temperature is a seemingly hot 100 degrees F, but tempered by the Gobi's never ending winds. The wind may well be the strongest influencing factor on people's lives in this desert. As an example, the wind is why the dwellings face south (the wind comes from north). The wind also helps keep food dry, preserving it, and it helps in the burning of dry animal dung—a Gobi energy source. It also helps in the preparation of a children's treat—dried curds, cured on small Mongol gers. Even on the sand dunes you don't feel a stove's heat. The Gobi, at first forbidding, can be a comfortably soft land of ruggedness: orange sandscapes, green underneath and clear blue sky above. our spirits were exhilarated in this flat, semi-desert, called the Gobi (Mongolian for "waterless place")

Of Gers and Stars

We got to our base Ger camp (we actually stayed at 4 different Ger camps). Here the gers were covered with what appeared to be a white felt-like material (used for insulating). The dwellings were, indeed, cool by day and warm at night. Air circulation and control is achieved by raising or lowering the lower part of the felt layers which, when raised, exposed the the ger's latticework frame. Washroom facilities at the camp were good. In the Gobi (semi-desert) hot showers are available for 24-hours a day—an amazing fact. So impressive are these Ger camps that we heard of someone coming to visit on the basis of a ger photo alone on a travel magazine's cover. Our base Ger camp was by far the most attractive and comfortable one that we stayed at.

We had an incredible panoramic view of the Gobi's expanse. We saw the sun rise and set against the visible horizons. The magnitude and brilliance of the sky's colors and color changes is an inspiration for all to take photographs—driven to capture the experience.

The night sky is a stark black against which the brilliance of our universe's galaxies seem to come alive, as is only possible on a desert. Even in a ger you stay connected to seemingly "closer than imaginable" stars through the ger's top window!

Dinosaurs and Camels

On our first morning we traveled to where the world's dinosaur legends were forever changed in the early 20th century. The story goes still, The “Flaming Cliffs,“ one of the world’s most famous dinosaurs sites is where dinosaur eggs were first discovered by Roy Andrews' expedition. The red cliffs are still there and a few lucky people can still find egg shell fragments and small fossil pieces of Protoceratops.

The view of the surrounding areas from the cliff we stood upon remains the most impressive sight I've ever seen. Millions of years ago this land was a sea and its shores home to a bustling community living dinosaurs. While gazing we heard strange noises behind us—it seems camels are also impressed with the view! Apparently there was a herd of near our van. The locals refer to camels as today's living dinosaurs of the Gobi.

The camel herder invited us to visit his family, a wonderfully fortunate experience for us. Indeed, it was one of the highlights of our trip. Herdsmen live far away from each other and the distances inspire hospitality. It was a pleasure to see the healthy children they were rearing—with teeth as white as snow. Our hostess offered us cups of tea with milk and a full plate of diary products to choose from. The food was delightful. We exchanged stories and asked how they went about their daily lives.

Most visitors to the Gobi have seen the film, The Story of the Weeping Camel. We inquired about the details of the movie and it was interesting to note that so many had such voices that they could make camels cry. They would seem to have special throats, if the singer of our last night at camp was an example of a Gobi troubadour. The performance made our Gobi experience. Nowhere had we seen the amazing talents and skills it takes to sing and play tens of different musical instruments while vocalizing epic-length songs.

We offered our host some gifts and they gave us curd and saxual of zag (Gobi tree) carved to resemble the heads of wild sheep.

Our experience of just two nights could do for a lifetime of experiences! We will return to the Gobi Desert, and definitely for a longer stay.

* The Story of the Weeping Camel is an enchanting film that follows the adventures of a family of herders in Mongolia's Gobi region who face a crisis when the mother camel unexpectedly rejects her newborn calf after a particularly difficult birth. Uniquely composed of equal parts reality, drama, and magic, this film is a window into a different way of life and the universal terrain of the heart.