A Hasty Assembly

ULAANBAATAR, Mongolia — We were four, six if you count Bobby and Battir, but they do this for work and can't be counted among the adventurers. Fate brought us together, plus a common belief that costs should be kept as low as possible.

There is Cing, whose actual name might be Qing, Jin or Elida. There is Myriam, who favors a black bandanna around her neck, and finally Caleb, who knows a dozen Mongolian swear words.

The girls were expecting me. They had seen my e-mail sent from the small town near the border, indicating that I would stay through Lunar New Year and wanted to get out of the capital. I wouldn't go so far as to say I was their only hope, but their options were slim. Most people had just a day or two between trains, enough to sneak out to Terlej National Park on the outskirts of the city, ride a tame horse for 45 minutes, sleep in a ger and make it back by noon the next day. But the girls wanted more, someone with more time and up for a bigger challenge. I was their man.

Bobby, co-owner of the guesthouse, knew that she had to move quickly, so she started pushing as I filled out the hostel's registration forms.

"You said that you might be interested in going to the countryside?" she said.

I demurred. I woke up that morning before dawn, and had entered the country less than 24 hours before. I wanted a hot shower and a catnap before making any serious decisions.

"There are two women here," she continued. "They want to leave tomorrow."

She explained the itinerary. We would leave Ulaanbaatar midday, and begin the two day journey to the White Lake. The first night would be spent in a ger along the way. At the lake there would be horses, a ger family and climbing. Then we would swing through the town of Tseterleg, stopping there to refuel and then make our way to Kharkhorum, the old capital for the final night. On the fifth day, we would be back in the capital.

White Lake, Tseterleg, Kharkhorum. These places meant nothing to me. I knew Genghis Khan, Soviet Colony and yurt. That's it. I needed a nap.

Bobby pushed further. "I would come along as a free translator. These people are my friends. We stay with nice families." She promised an "authentic experience," by celebrating the second most important Mongolian holiday in a traditional way.

Then she brought out the calendar and started crunching numbers. The fee for the driver, petrol and the car would be $340. An eye-popping figure for someone of limited means, but then Bobby started dividing. Split over five days and four people, the costs would be well within the budget range. She promised two-dollar accommodation and one dollar meals during the trek.

Everything sounded fine, and I realized that I wouldn't be allowed a respite without making a yes or no decision. I was on board.

We had three, but the numbers were based on four. I found him in the hostel's small pantry, which is stocked with complimentary strawberry tea, bread and condensed milk. His name was Caleb, and he didn't seem to know what he was doing. He might come on the trip, he might stay here in Ulaanbaatar. He possibly could be leaving for China in a couple of days, or the embassy could take another week to issue his visa. He teeter-tottered, and he did it very well. But he did know the area and offered to take me out to lunch and to scout out a couple of record shops.

By the time we finished our Cuban sandwiches, the hesitation in his voice had died down. We swung back to the hostel for a credit card, and went to Mongolbank for a withdrawal. Mid-afternoon I slapped several dozen turgik bills on Bobby's desk, which made it official. In under a day, I'd be headed into the wilderness with five people I didn't know, to places I knew nothing about.

The future was wide open.