Words & photos:
Matt Phillips
www.mattphillips
outdoors.com
First SUP descent of the Chuluut Valley, Mongolia
I’ve worked as a guide and expedition leader since 2012. I have been lucky enough to work in some fantastic places, including rainforests in Sri Lanka, jungle rivers in Panama and New Zealand’s waterways. I have sought out Personal expeditions on Icelandic glaciers, Canadian lakes, and paddleboarding the Amazon. Mongolia has been a dream destination since I was a teenager reading Conn Iggulden books on Genghis Khan. This year, everything finally came together for the expedition to Mongolia.
I’ve been guiding five-day canoe expeditions in New Zealand with Phil, owner of Canoe Safaris NZ. On a trip, I mentioned I had a half-formed plan for a trip to Mongolia, and he immediately asked to join. His enthusiasm pushed the idea from a dream into a reality.
ambitious
The plan was ambitious: nine days paddling 270 km along five rivers, starting in the basalt canyons of the Somon Gol, flowing into the Chuluut, then joining the Ider, merging into the Delgermörön, and finally forming the mighty Selenge. This would be the first recorded SUP descent of the Chuluut Valley. We contacted Canoe Mongolia, who were able to supply us with a canoe, some old soviet maps and a driver.
Getting to Mongolia was an expedition in itself. From New Zealand, we took three flights and were stopped at every security checkpoint for extra bag checks. We had our powder vitamin mix for our drinks checked, power banks inspected, a first aid kit looked at, and the filter in my water bottle looked suspicious.
My SUP bag also went on its own trip, but it turned up in the right place after I had been called to confirm it was my bag. Eventually, we arrived in the Mongolian capital of Ulaanbaatar. The evening we landed, we stocked up on supplies, including fruit, oats, bread, a slab of bacon, half a wheel of cheese, and snacks, as well as the all-important Mongolian Vodka and Chinggis beer.
The following day, we met our driver and set off on an 18-hour journey across the country through spectacular steppe landscapes. We stopped at the site of the old capital, Karakorum, for a quick visit to the ruins. Then it was back into the car to our starting point on the Somon Gol River. We pitched our tents in the last of the light and the last of the dry weather for the night. All night, we had torrential rain and sheet lightning. It felt like we were going to be washed away. I clipped my kit bags together and pegged them into the ground.
Day 1
The day began with bright, clear weather and a change of plan. Our driver confirmed our pick-up point and time. He collected us from the river and drove us to a train station to catch the Trans-Siberian Railway back to Ulaanbaatar. The problem was that he was coming a day earlier than we had planned. We had spent over 18 hours with the man, but we had a significant language barrier. He gave us our train tickets, which we had purchased through Canoe Mongolia, and they were for a day earlier, so we were stuck with a quick change of plan.
The first three days were expected to be the most challenging, with steeper gradients, large rapids, and tricky rock gardens. The basalt canyon was stunning, with sheer cliffs surrounding us. The rain the night before had created powerful currents and plenty of big waves and stoppers, keeping us focused. We aimed for 37 km that day, but with daylight left, we pushed further, banking extra distance in case of delays later. We had to make a few pauses and stops to empty the splashed water from the canoe, which had most of our heavier supplies in it.
We found a flat spot for camp and quickly set up the tarp. We were expecting a localised storm like the one from the previous night. Each evening, the storm clouds gathered and threatened us, but we were lucky.
Day 2
We awoke to a stunning day with an endless blue sky. Although it was sunny, the temperature was still very cold, with each night and morning being chilly. We started the day with tea and porridge before breaking camp and loading the canoe and paddleboard. We had rapids and a few rock islands to navigate past, as well as some calmer sections where we could watch the eagles soar on the thermals.
The day ended with a brutal half-hour rock garden. It felt like a never-ending series of slaloms, pivots, and quick decisions to avoid boulders; the rapid eventually ended with a series of large waves and holes. The last set of waves swamped the canoe, but Phil kept it upright. The nose of my SUP disappeared into a hole, sending me dancing along the deck. By the time we emerged, we were physically and mentally drained, having covered over 40 km of unfamiliar flowing river. We were meant to paddle 34km, stopping before the long rapid, but we had been feeling fresh and wanted to get a bit further. Once in that section, we had to keep going.
Day 3
The river has calmed down; it still has waves and rock gardens, but it isn’t at the same level as it was on day one or two. The valley is changing shape and opening in places. We set up the tarp at camp again because the sky has been threatening rain. We could see the hills in the distance being hit with heavy rain. Phil had his fishing rod out at camp, trying to catch us dinner, but he had no success. Clean drinking water became a surprising challenge. The main river was brown with clay sediment, which quickly clogged our filters, and many ‘streams’ marked on maps were dry in summer, only flowing during spring snowmelt. Whenever we found a clear side stream, we filled every container we had – including the empty beer bottles from earlier in the trip.
Day 4
During the night, it had rained, and our tarp had collected a couple of pools of water. We took advantage of this fresh, clean water to fill up all our bottles and have a couple of extra cups of tea. We met a nomadic family beside the river. The father spoke no English, but his daughter knew a little. They were curious about our journey, and we were equally interested in their life on the steppe. We had questions about how they lived and what animals they kept. She had returned to the farm after uni in Ullanbataa. The canyon was slowly opening up, and we saw more signs of nomadic life as we paddled yurts, herds of goats, and horses running along the banks. We stopped to investigate an abandoned shack and stable, all made out of rough timber and trees felled from the immediate area.
Day 5
The canyon had opened into wide steppe country. The river had slowed, and we had some stretches paddling into the wind. Our meals mainly consisted of dehydrated packs, supplemented with fresh spring onions picked along the banks, a block of cheese, and our enormous chunks of bacon, although this was mostly fat. Bacon and cheese lunches became a daily highlight. I clipped my fin a few times today. The river was constantly narrowing and widening with braids weaving around islands. At lunch, I rearranged my bags to put more weight on the front of the board to try to lift the back. I had my deep fin attached and my short river fin in the kit bag.
I started with the river fin, but after day 2, I swapped. The short fin didn’t give me the tracking I needed with the long, heavy board. A few fin clips and some board dancing were a price I was willing to pay. We spent the night camping on a flat island. Usually, when I camp by a river, I go up to get to high ground in case of floods and rising rivers, but this river was quick, and the land surrounding it was flat. The rain washed down the rivers, staying in its own almost canal-shaped path. There was rarely any sign of flood damage on the banks or trees washed downstream and now stuck on the banks.
Day 6
Our river, the Chullute, has merged into the Ida; on the maps, the Chullute is marked as a stream and the Ida as a river. At the confluence, the river grew in size and changed colour, becoming significantly browner. The Ida was designed to flow through more mountainous terrain, and we had hoped for cleaner water. Unfortunately, we were unaware of the quarry and mine along the riverbanks, which release sediment and mud into the river. We were hoping for a wash and shave in cleaner water at the confluence, but we had to settle for a small side stream for a quick dip, and Phill had a scratchy shave.
Day 7
The day was short; we had gained enough distance that we could have a short river day. We paddled into civilisation, where we found more huts, yurts, and gravel/mud roads. Our plan that night was to stay at Five Rivers Camp, a ger (yurt) site. The land was once a farm, but is now run by the family as a site for cross-country cyclists, bike tours and sometimes canoe groups coming the opposite direction from us on the Delgermörön.
When we started the day, we were on the Ida River, but we ended paddling up the Delgermörön after a brief visit to the Selenga. The Five Rivers Camp was living up to its name! We spent the night here, enjoying the family’s hospitality, swimming in the river, and preparing for the following day. We were also joined in the ger by the calves and a herd of goats who wandered through the camp.
On the final day, we packed the paddleboard and loaded everything into the canoe. We started paddling back down the Delgermörön and onto the Selenga. The Selenga flows east at the point where the south-flowing Delgermörön and the north-flowing Ida meet. This day was meant to be a 31km day and the following day a short 16km but we had lost a day.
From the information we had, we were expecting a headwind and shallow, braided, slow channels. This was the first day with real-time restriction. We had to get to our pick-up point so we could get to the train station early the following day. With the SUP deflated and two paddlers in one boat, we made swift progress, and we reached our pick-up point on time. We spent one last night under canvas and in the eye of a storm. Our expedition started in the rain and ended in the rain.
The following day, our driver brought us to the train station to catch the overnight Trans Siberian Railway back to the capital.
Pure satisfaction
The Chuluut Valley delivered everything I hoped for – challenging whitewater, remote landscapes, encounters with nomadic culture, and the satisfaction of a first SUP descent. It’s an expedition I’d gladly repeat.
