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It was a crisp, clear afternoon when I first arrived in Dalanzadgad. A rough 12 hour bus ride from Ulaanbaatar, over the vast steppe with not a single tree (or sealed road) in sight.
I had spent a couple days hanging out in Ulaanbaatar, and I was ready for a new adventure. I love the idea of going with the flow so I did some research and found the best and cheapest way to the Gobi Desert was to buy a bus ticket to the town of Dalanzadgad and go from there.
I arrived at my hostel to see that nobody was there. I had the room to myself, but I also had a problem now. I came here thinking I could meet some fellow travellers and book a driver, but nobody was able to split the bill with me. I walked down to the corner shop to get some noodles and contemplate my next move.
A couple hours later, the owner knocked on my door saying there was a man from another hostel who’d arrived with the same problem. I walked out to see two young missionaries and a middle aged man standing on the other side of the corrugated fence.
His name was Rafal, a history professor from Poland. We chatted and decided to meet at the hostel the next day.
$195 USD each for a 3 day, 2 night adventure in the Gobi with food and accommodation provided. A much more affordable price than the tours that are so common there. We were glad to have found each other, and we met with our driver the next morning.
Woke up and decided to bring the sax. Why not? I thought. It’s because of moments like this, as well as a lot more of my stories I will blog about that I bring my saxophone everywhere I go.
After meeting our driver Choiban and stocking up on water and snacks, we hit the road.
Our first stop was the Yolyn Am (The Valley of the Eagles). We got out and I thought to myself that it would be a bit of a hike. I left the sax in the 4WD, and Rafal and I went for a walk through the valley.
I immediately regretted my decision to not bring my sax. We’re so used to going up crazy steep hills when we see greenery in New Zealand. This valley was flatter than a piece of bread Uce Gang sat on.
Our next stop was Bayanzag aka the Flaming Cliffs. A beautiful sandstone cliff in the middle of a plateau, famously known for the discovery of dinosaur eggs there. I brought my sax this time and sat on the edge, playing into the vast open space.
While we were there I noticed there was a guy in traditional Mongolian clothes, posing against the backdrop of the orange glow of the cliffs. There was a man and a lady giving him instructions as they strategically positioned themselves snapping photos from their fancy cameras. I put my sax back in my mouth and went on about my business.
A week or so later, I was chilling in my hostel in Ulaanbaatar, 700km away from the Flaming Cliffs. I had posted a story of myself playing in the Gobi and one of my good friends Bruno from my uni days hit me up. Bruno was living in New York studying music and he said that one of his best friends was currently in Ulaanbaatar and that we should link up.
Ethan. The brother. I rocked up to his hostel the next morning and we went out for some goulash in one of the hundreds of canteens that exist in Ulaanbaatar. He was a composer and gamelan player from New York, currently living in Mexico City. A true adventurous spirit who was telling me his crazy stories hitchhiking through Tajikistan.
As we were eating our goulash he said that he was off to hitchhike towards the Chinggis Khan Statue. He had insane plans to eventually make his way to Chinggis Khan’s birthplace to buy a horse and cross the Gobi Desert. I wasn’t sticking around for that, but I was keen as to hitch to the statue with him and make my way home.
We took a bus to the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar, and stuck our thumbs out. Within minutes we were picked up by a gangster looking Mongolian dude. A couple cigarettes as a humble offering of peace and we got dropped off to the closest town to the statue.
Hitchhiking in Mongolia has got to be the easiest thing ever, because within minutes we were picked up by a nomadic couple and were on our way to the statue. We got in the back and it smelled like goat musk, and there was a gallon bottle of milk rolling across the floor. We had made it.
We got to the statue and celebrated. We leaned up against an abandoned building nearby and chatted.
As the sun was slowly coming down I started to worry about how I was going to get back. Ulaanbaatar was about 57km away. I was considering staying the night with Ethan. We saw there was a buddhist temple along the hill across the road, and we decided to check it out to see if it was open. Unfortunately it wasn’t.
For the next 30 minutes we were frantically walking around the carpark, asking every single driver if they were going back to Ulaanbaatar and if we could get a ride back, but to no avail. Ethan told me he was gonna set up his tent, and told me to keep trying to ask people.
Then I saw them. The young guy in traditional Mongolian clothing, and the two photographers taking photos of him. Sunset at the Chinggis Khan Statue.
I walked up to them, saying I had seen them last week at the Flaming Cliffs. They lit up, instantly remembering the out of place saxophone reverberating across the glowing landscape. They kindly offered me a ride back to Ulaanbaatar.
They were Hiroshi and Ling. An elderly couple who lived in Singapore, and were retired commercial photographers. They had come for a holiday, and had been getting their tour guide Bars to pose for them.
And Bars the young Mongolian guy. He was like 15 years old, spoke fluent English and German and was working as a full time guide. As we got chatting in the car, Bars invited me for dinner with them all.
Hiroshi was curious about me too. A fellow Japanese person. I told him of my rough two months living in Japan, and he told me his story. He was an orphan, parents passing away from complications after the Hiroshima bombing. He was adopted into an American family in California as a young child and eventually got married and lived his life in Singapore.
We pulled up to this fancy restaurant. The food looked expensive, and it wasn’t until it came out that we found out why. All the food was made to share with like 2-4 people. It was way too much, and we had an enormous feast.
We chatted and chatted, and after our meal we made our way back to Hiroshi and Ling’s hotel, the Shangri-La. I parted ways with them, and wished them the best in their trip and their lives.
Playing sax in the Gobi Desert turned into a good icebreaker in a sticky situation. What a crazy adventure.
Events took place Sept 2025
Blog Date: 04/06/2026
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