The Winged Return

All the time that we were in Khatgal we knew that we were eventually going to have to return to UB.  It was upon this matter that great thought was spent as to which way would be the best.  There is an airport in Muren, and often airplanes fly from there to UB.  Before we had ever gone we had mostly dismissed that option for it’s cost was much greater than all the alternatives and we had more time than money.  It is possible to travel the distance in vans though that option also left much to be desired.  The drivers of said vans whole income is based on how many people they take and how many trips they can make.  Because of this these vans are often crowded too full for comfort and they travel too fast over rugged terrain.  Another option, thought slim, was to find someone, and owner of his own vehicle, that was planning on making the drive from Khatgal or Muren to UB.  The hope was that one such as this would be making the trip and want to pick up a few passengers to make a little extra cash along the way.  When we got to Khatgal it was determined that such a hope was a fool’s hope.  At that point we were resigned to take a van and endure the trial, hoping that the journey would pass quickly (and with not too much odor).  It was on such a plan that we acted, leaving Khatgal last Thursday in the company of those who would travel to Muren on their separate errands; some to flights that would lead them to UB, others the market to pick up supplies.  It was less than an hour into our trip that our fortunes changes drastically, though at the time I didn’t know whether it was for good or ill.  My courageous companion became sick of the road and shortly lost his breakfast inside the van.  Upon becoming carsick that quickly he became resigned that he would fly despite the cost; he didn’t want to endure the long trek back over land.  Though his mind was made up, I was still planning on taking the low road.  Again I had more time than money.  But it wasn’t long before my fortunes changed as well.  I did not become carsick, no, of that I am very glad.  When we had reached Muren the Siekberts encouraged me to find out whether or not there were available flights on the plane, and to pursue that endeavor though I wasn’t equipped financially to see it through.  They were determined to aid me and stated that the work we had done had earned us this flight.  I was still reluctant to go for I was even slower to spend someone else’s money than my own.  Finally they won the argument and our plane tickets were purchased for our flight back to UB.  We said our goodbyes, bidding them farewell until our next meeting, and dropped them off at the market while we ourselves were borne to the airport.  We checked in and were subjected to the strangest security check that I have experienced.  It had all the appearance of a full security check, but when it came down to it it was more of a hassle than a precaution for the flight.  We were charged overage costs for our bags, including our carry-ons.  We waited for around a half and hour in the lobby and then went through security ourselves on the way to the “sterile holding area” as it was referred to.  Again we waited there for a short while.  It wasn’t long before we were boarding though.  We exited the building, walking across the tarmac towards a solitary twin engine propeller plane waiting for us.  It was the simplest boarding that I’d ever had and once the twelve passengers were on board, and the door closed, we spread ourselves out through empty seats of the plane.  Once the pre-flight instructions were given in both English and Mongolian we began taxiing down the runway for take off.  It was the smallest aircraft I have been on and the pre-flight procedures were the quickest I’d experienced.  It was long before the propellers outside my window were spinning so quickly that the individual blades could not be distinguished.  As we drove on toward the end of the runway and the plains beyond we slowly began to rise in the air as if borne on the wind itself.  The day was exceedingly cloudy, and that mixed with smoke such that we were soon lost in indistinguishable mass.  As we climbed higher, and every reference point seemed to fade, it appeared as if we were suspended inside a vast see of white.  It remained that way for the entirety of the flight as far as I saw.  When I had finished my book I began to listen to music and laid my head back on the rest.  Without even realizing it I quickly sank into sleep.  It was only upon waking that I realized what had happen, for one cannot wake up unless they have been asleep.  The manner of my arousal is as follows.  I was suddenly jolted from my unconscious reverie by a frightening sound.  When I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse out of the window I realized that the sound was only the shrill utterance of the landing gear’s tires hitting the tarmac at the airport in UB.  The flight indeed had been exceedingly and pleasantly brief, and had only carried us for 1:45.  In the end it was a much greater experience than driving would have been and much more abbreviated.  I was very glad that we had taken that road instead of the other available paths.  Instead of arriving in UB tired, dirty, and road weary I found myself greatly relieved and able to have a good night’s rest.  On another note my heart is lightened for I fly back to America next Thursday with a few days detour in South Korea.

 

John