China | Gansu Province | Jiayuguan | Great Wall

From Beijing I took one of the morning planes to Lanzhou, on the Yellow River in eastern Gansu, 704 miles to the west, and then caught the afternoon puddle-jumper on to Jiayuguan, 369 miles still farther west.

Lanzhou, on the Yellow River

In Jiayuguan I wanted to check out the possibility of making a trip to the Mazong (Horse’s Mane) Mountains to the north and Gobi Desert beyond.

The bus from the airport was not running—there were only about thirty people on the small plane and most of them seemed to be locals who were met at the airport by acquaintances. I had to take a cab for the six-mile trip into town. The cab driver was a woman in her mid-twenties. She delivered me to the Jiayuguan Hotel on the main city square and insisted on carrying my bag inside. I had read that the Jiayuguan Hotel was a dump and was going to stay there only because it was conveniently located. The accounts must have been written before a recent upgrade. The place now is quite up-scale and all the receptionists and even some of the waitresses in the restaurant speak English. The listed price reflected the upgrade—400 yuan for a standard room; more than the venerable Yong An, where I stay in Beijing—but this price was quickly lowered to 200 yuan when I showed signs of heading for the door. Mid-April is the off-season in Jiayuguan. All the while the cab driver was hovering by my elbow. Speaking through one of the receptionists she then offered to take me the next morning to the two most famous local sights—the westernmost extension of the Great Wall of China and the Jiayuguan Fort, on the western edge of town. A price was arrived at and we agreed to meet at nine the next morning.

There was some kind of settlement here in this wide corridor between the Qilian Mountains to the north and the Mazong Mountains to the north since at least Han times some two thousand years ago. More than a thousand tombs dating from the Wei (220-265) and Western Jin ((265-316) dynasties are scattered around the surrounding desert. During the Ming Dynasty the fort here marked the western limits of the Chinese Empire. The Great Wall, starting far to the east at Shanhaiguan on the Bohai Gulf, ended here, and in 1372 a fort was built to guard the border. The nearby town become knowns as “Jiayuguan,” which means “Barrier of the Pleasant Valley.” The city now has a population of some 115,000. Cement and fertilizer factories dominate the town, and iron ore and coking coal are mined in the nearby mountains. Although nowhere near as famous a tourist attraction as Dunhuang, some five hours by bus to the south, a fair amount of tourists stop by to see the Great Wall, the fort, and a smattering of other local sights. All serous Silk Roadies make an obligatory stop here because of its importance as a way-station on the Silk Road.

The day I arrived it had been very overcast and I was not able to be see much of the surrounding area either on the plane’s approach or on the drive into town. The next morning I was a bit startled when I drew back the curtains and beheld the glacier-capped 18,000 foot-plus Qilian Mountains dominating the entire southern horizon.

Qilian Mountains from Downtown Jaiyuguan

The town itself is at an elevation of 5385 feet. In the foreground to the south were in the much lower buckskin colored Wenshu Mountains. It was these mountains to the south and the Heishan to the immediate north and the Mazong beyond that funneled many of the various caravan routes of the Silk Road through this area. That is why during the Ming Dynasty this place was called “The Greatest Pass Under Heaven.”

The driver was right on time the next morning. Her name is Chan. She is in her late twenties I would say, very thin, with a finely chiseled face. I quickly discovered she did not speak a single word of English. For someone who works with the public she seemed intensely shy—or maybe she was just shy around foreigners. She would glance at me out of the corner of her eyes for a microsecond and than intently stare straight ahead, as if she had seen something she really shouldn't have. Our first stop is the so-called Overhanging Wall section of the Great Wall, 6.2 miles from the hotel on the city square. From the fort, 4.2 miles away, the Wall runs across flat desert and ends at the top of a high hill.

The Overhanging Wall

Beyond here the rugged ridges of the Heishan form a natural barrier. A wall was built here probably as early as the Han Dynasty some 2000 years ago but the current version dates from the Ming Dynasty.

The Overhanging Wall

After the fall of Mongolian Yuan Dynasty in 1368 a Ming army led by General Feng Sheng drove the last of the Mongol armies from the region. The existing wall was upgraded and new sections built in an attempt to prevent any further Mongol incursions. The pounded earth wall from the fort to the Overhanging Wall appears to be more-or-less the original version, but the brick section climbing up the spine of the mountain appears to have undergone extensive restoration.

The Overhanging Wall

Nearby is a newly installed suite of granite statues depicting various travelers, pilgrims, and generals who have filed through Jiayuguan over the ages.
Among the more notable is Lao Tzu, the founder of Taoism, who some sources claim made the first recorded trip through Jiayuguan in the fifth century BC. Lao Tzu was of course the author of record of the Dao De Qing, the seminal text of Taoism. Discouraged that so few people were willing to follow his teachings of The Way he mounted his black buffalo and rode westward. Here at Jiayuguan he left China proper and disappeared into the wilderness beyond and hence into legend. That he was supposedly between 160 and 200 years old when he made the trip brings the historicity of this whole account into question.

Lao Tzu

There is no doubt about the historicity of Xuanzang, the peripatetic pilgrim who passed this way around 630 on his way from Xian in Shaanxi Province to India. I have visited numerous places in Xuanzang’s itinerary, including Lanzhou in eastern Gansu Province; Turpan and Khotan in Xinjiang, Bodhgaya, site of the Buddha’s Enlightenment, nearby Vulture's Peak, where the Buddha taught, and the great Buddhist university of Nalanda, all in India; the Big Goose Pagoda in Xian where the Buddhist texts he brought back from India were stored, and his tomb at Xingjiao Temple near Xian.

Peripatetic Pilgrim Xuanzang with his panier of sutras brought back from India

Near the statue complex is Jiayuguan’s only Buddhist temple, which has recently been restored.

Temple

Nearby is another section of wall which is being restored and is not open to the public. When I expressed a desire to see it Ms. Chan took a dirt road to the base of the mountain and then led me up an extremely steep narrow foot path which ended at an opening in the wall where the workmen gained access. I had to admire her pluckiness. She was wearing street shoes and had to climb several of the steep sections of the trail on her hands and knees.

View of the Overhanging Wall, with Buddhist Temple at bottom left

We climbed onto the top of the wall, where several workmen were repairing the brick steps, and proceeded upwards. Ms. Chan really seemed to be enjoying herself. She whooped and hollered as we climbed higher and new vistas were presented to us.

The charming Ms. Chan taking a breather

I got the impression that she had been on the lower part of the wall where the workman were but had never before climbed to the top.

Climbing to the to Beacon Tower

From the tower we were presented with a sweeping view of the mountains to the north and south and the corridor between them which made this place so strategically important.

The Greatest Pass Under Heaven

China | Beijing | White Pagoda

Spent the morning at Beihai (Northern Sea) Park in northcentral Beijing. The park is centered around a made-made lake created by Khubilai Khan, grandson of Chingis Khan and founder of the Mongolian Yuan Dynasty. Near the middle of the lake is man-made Qiong Island also reportedly created by Khubilai. The island is surmounted by a high hill, and on the top of the hill is the 118-foot-high White Pagoda. The White Pagoda was built in 1651 to commemorate a visit to Beijing by the Fifth Dalai Lama. (The Yellow Temple, where Zanabazar, First Bogd Gegeen of Mongolia, died, was built as a residence for the Dalai Lama during his stay in Beijing.) The pagoda was damaged during earthquakes in 1679, 1730, and 1976. It has just recently been refurbished in anticipation of the 2008 Olympics.

The causeway to Qiong Island with the White Pagoda on the horizonAnother approach to the White Pagoda

Climbing the steps to the White Pagoda

The White Pagoda with the Shan Yin Dian to the left.

The Shan Yin Dian (Hall of Beneficient Causation) was built in 1751 by Emperor Qian Long. On the side of the hall are 455 glazed tiles each containing a small Buddha in relief.

455 Buddhas of the Shan Yin Dian

Buddhas of the Shan Yin Dian
Statue of Yamataka inside the Shan Yin Dian

Just below the pagoda is the Yong An temple complex. In one of the temples are statues of the Dalai Lama, Panchen Lama, and Tsongkhapa, founder of the Gelug sect of Tibetan Buddhism.

Statue of Amitayus in the Yong An temple complex

Tantric Diety and consort in the Yong An temple complex

China | Beijing | Yonghegong

As I mentioned in a previous post there is supposed to be a Shambhala Thangka in the collection of the Yonghegong, or Lama Temple in Beijing. The last time I had been there it was not out on public display, but I decided to pop in again anyhow on the outside chance that it could now be seen.

Yonghegong is the biggest surviving Buddhist temple in Beijing. Completed in 1694, it originally served as the residence of Qing Emperor Kangxi’s son Yong Zheng. In 1725, shortly after Yong Zheng became emperor, he upgraded the complex and gave it the name Yonghegong, meaning “Harmony and Peace Palace.” It was Yong Zheng who some believe ordered the assassination of Zanabazar, the First Bogd Gegeen of Mongolia in 1723. In any event, Zanabazar died that year in the Yellow Temple in Beijing. Whatever his role in Zanabazar’s death, Yong Zheng, following the instructions of his father Kangxi, built Amarbayasgalant Monastery in northern Mongolia to hold Zanabazar’s remains.

Stele in the front courtyard recounting the history of Yonghegong in Mongolian and Chinese

In 1744 Yong Zheng’s successor Qian Long turned the complex into a monastery, and along with the Yellow Temple it became an outpost of Tibeto-Mongolian Buddhism in Beijing. It survived the Cultural Revolution (1966-1977) more-or-less intact supposedly because of the direct intervention of Premier Zhou Enlai. The complex was reopened in 1981. Among the chief attractions now is the sixty-foot-tall Standing Maitreya in the Main Temple. Carved from the trunk of a white sandalwood tree, it is said to be the largest statue in the world made from a single piece of wood (duly certified in 1990 by the Guiness Book of World Records, a Chinese obsession). A whole posse of monks is on hand to prevent people from taking photographs of the wooden Maitreya, so no photos of that.

The Main Temple containing the 60-foot-high wooden Maitreya

Statute of Samantabhadra. One of the Four Buddhist Mountains of China, Emei Shan, is devoted to Samantabhadra.

I found no trace of the Shambhala thangka, which must still be in storage somewhere, so I mosied across the street to the many shops selling religious paraphernalia to stock up on Nanmu incense, made from the wood of the Nanmu tree. Supposedly Nanmu incense was introduced into China by the Panchen Lama of Tibet, who gave some as a gift to the Qing Emperor Qian Long on the occasion of the latter’s seventieth birthday. It quickly became Emperor’s favorite incense. It has the unusual quality of smelling much stronger on rainy days, and is said to clear the nose and sharpen one’s thoughts. It also drives away mosquitoes.

About a block down the street from the temple entrance is a small Tibetan shop ran by a young Tibetan man and woman. They have a nice selection of thangkas, but as one might expect at this venue a little over-priced. The young man was kind enough to restring my mala for me free-of-charge. Next time you are in Beijing and need your beads restrung this is definitely the place to go.

China | Beijing | Maliandao Tea Street

Having exhausted my supplies of Yunnan and Qi Mun black teas and running dangerously low on Puerh tea I had no alternative but to wing down to Beijing to replenish my supplies. The day before I left Ulaan Baatar we were treated to a ferocious dust storm and snow flurries simultaneously—Mongolia is of the few places in the world where this can happen—but in Bejing real spring had already arrived, with temperatures up into the low 70s F. Overhead was a faultless dome of blue sky, without a hint of Beijing’s fabled pollution.

I immediately grabbed my local tea consultant, Ms. R, and head for Maliandao Tea Street, one of the world’s greatest tea emporiums. This is a standard stop for me in Beijing. Although there are reportedly over a thousand tea stores on the street I always return to the shop of Ms. Na, who has a especially strong selection of black teas.

The estimable Ms. Na showing off a new cake of Puerh

I bought a kilo each of the highest grade Qi Mun and Yunnan Black and three cakes of Puerh.

Ms. R sampling the Qi Mun

Tie Kuan Yin Oolong

Although I am not a big fan of Oolong tea at Ms. Na’s instigation I sampled some new Tie Kuan Yin (Iron Goddess of Mercy) Oolong which she had just gotten in and ended up buying 250 grams. It is so hard to say no to the entreaties of the charming and gracious Ms. Na!

The breath-takingly lovely Ms. R virtually glowing after sampling the Tie Kuan Yin

Another tea seller in the same store

Nice selection of Puerhs

Turkey | Kyrgyzstan | Golden Horn Girl

Adventuress, temptress, and auteur Ms. S. (See Previous Post) with soldiers at the Kyrgyzstan border.

Turkey | Mongolia | Golden Horn | Kul-Tegin

Just a few days ago I received a box of new books from Amazon. I get a shipment about once a month. The woman at the post office no longer asks for my ID. When she sees me walk in the door she simply reaches for the box with the big Amazon logo on the side and wordlessly hands it to me. The rush of pleasure I get as I take possession of the box is almost obscene in its intensity. I retire to the nearest French bakery and have a double expresso while I compose myself for the ceremony of opening the box. Finally I take out my black steel Yengisar Knife from Xinjiang which I have brought along especially for this purpose and carefully, lovingly slit open the top of the package. Another swipe of the razor-sharp blade (I had touched up the edge just that morning in anticipation of this event) frees the books from the bonds of their shrink wrap, and like an ardent young lover fondling the breasts of his beloved I take the books into my hands. But instead of two treasures as the objects of desire there are in this case four.

The first one I open is Kurban Said’s The Girl from The Golden Horn.



This is the story of a young Turkish girl named Asiadeh, born in Istanbul, on the Golden Horn. The time is the 1920s, after the fall of Ottoman Empire, and she along with her father are now political refugees in Berlin, Germany. They are nearly destitute, but Asiadeh is able to attend college. The first page begins with her sitting in a classroom in Berlin:

Asiadeh looked up, her gray eyes thoughtful and earnest. “This ‘i’ is the Yakut gerund, similar to the Khirgis ‘barisi.’”

Professor Bang rubbed his long, hooked nose. Behind the steel-rimmed glasses his eyes looked like those of a wise owl. He wheezed sofly and disapprovingly.

“Yes,” he said, “But I still cannot really understand why the ‘a’ should be missing in the Yakut form.” And he sadly leafed through the dictionary.

Goetz, another of his students, whose specialty was the Chinese language, proposed to explain the mysterious “a” form as being a petrified Mongol instrumental. “When I was young,’ said the professor severely, “I too tried to explain everything as being a petrified Mongol instrumental. Courage is a young man’s priviledge.

Now I ask you, who would not be transfixed by a novel that mentions the Mongolian instrumental case on the very first page? I plunged onward, pages flying by like maple leaves in a November gale, until finally on page 50 I read this:

A wild people in the steppes of faraway Mongolia had erected barbaric monuments to their greatness. The people wandered away, but the rough script remained. Weaterbeaten and secret, it looked over the emptiness of the Mongolian steppes into the dark mirror of cold, nameless rivers. Stones fell apart, nomads passed by and looked shyly and fearfully at the half-buried monuments of long-forgotten glory. Wanderers from faraway countries lost their way in the wild wastelands. They brought back to the West stories of mysterious inscriptions. Expeditions set out, skillful hands copied the unknown signs. Then the copies were printed on clean white paper and lay in the quiet rooms of learned men. Dry veined hands caressed lovingly the age-old script, furrowed brows bent over the paper. Slowly the veil of secrecy was lifted, and from the square weatherbeaten symbols sounded the howling of steppe wolves, arose the faraway nomadic people, rose up a wild leader on a small, long-haired horse, came the story of ancient adventures, wars, and heroics. Asiadeh looked tenderly at the rough script. It seemed to her that she was reading the story of her own dreams, desires, and hopes. She sensed something immense, something calling behind the chaos of these primitive forms and structures of words. She sensed the mystic beginning hidden in the oldest sounds of her race. She saw the first people of an emerging tribe as they wandered long ago over the snowy ice-bound steppes, creating the first sounds of a language from the enigma of their souls. Her small fingers followed the lines of the script, and she read slowly, “Sixteen years old was my brother Kul-Tegin, and behold what he did! He went to war against the people of the pigtails and beat them. He threw himself in to the fight, and his hand, the hand of a warrior, reached the enemy Ong Tutak, who commanded fifty thousand men.”

When I had ordered this book I had no idea it had anything to do with Mongolia. Imagine my surprise then to read about not only the Mongolian instrumental case but also the evocative description above of the famous Kul-Tegin Monument in what is now Arkhangai Aimag.

The Kul-Tegin Monument in Arkhangai Aimag
See Text of Kul-Tegin Monument

Statue of eighth-century Turk Warrior in Bayan-Olgii Aimag
See also the Tonyukuk Monuments in Töv Aimag

Last summer internationally renowned adventuress, temptress, and auteur Gunj—our very own Girl from the Golden Horn—visited Mongolia and made a pilgrimage to the Kul-Tegin Monument.

Gunj

Mongolia | Scorpius | Novæ

I usually get up at 4:00 a.m. and before engaging in morning orisons go out on the balcony of my apartment in the exclusive Sansar District of Ulaan Baatar for a perusal of the pre-dawn sky. It is a nice time of night. Most late-night revelers have already turned in, and the neighborhood is quiet. There is very little traffic on the streets. A perfect time for contemplating the Heavens. This month’s sky has proffered some intriguing sights.

Map courtesy of Sky & Telescope

On February 4 a nova appeared in Scorpius, which in the pre-dawn now looms just about the eastern flanks of Bogd Khan Uul, the big mountain south of Ulaan Baatar. According to Sky & Telescope magazine:

Nova Scorpii 2007 wasn't a big deal when two Japanese nova hunters, Yuji Nakamura and Yukio Sakurai, independently discovered it at 9th magnitude on February 4th. But it brightened and brightened, peaking at magnitude 3.8 on Friday the 16th. As of Saturday morning the 24th it had faded to about 5.1, dimming now by 0.1 magnitude per day . It had also changed from white to orange-red, typical behavior for classical novae. That still puts it in naked-eye range if you have a dark sky, and binoculars show it from anywhere.

It was probably not possible to spot this nova with the naked eye here in Ulaan Baatar because of ambient light from the city. I may have spotted it with 10x binoculars, I am not sure. In any case, Jupiter (Mongolian = Багхасбадь) and Antares make a lovely sight in the morning sky.

Then—you’re not going to believe this—a few days later another nova was spotted in Scorpius:

Yuji Nakamura, codiscoverer of the first one, found the likely nova at magnitude 9.3 on two CCD images taken at February 19.86 Universal Time. A day later, at February 20.85 UT, K. Itagaki confirmed the new star; it's at right ascension 16h 56m 59s, declination –35° 21.8' (2000.0 coordinates). He judged it to be magnitude 8.8. "Nova Scorpii 2007 #2" (which has just been named V1281 Sco) was also independently discovered by Hideo Nishimura on the morning of the 20th Japanese time; he called it magnitude 9.2.”

What in the name of all that’s holy is going on in the Heavens? Remember the dictum, “As Above, So Below.” Stay tuned, the Ides of March are soon upon us! “Et tu, Brute?”

Mongolia | Ulaan Baatar | Tsagaan Sar 2007

The first day of Tsagaan Sar (White Month), the Mongolian New Year celebration, was on Sunday, February 18. Two years ago I had gotten up in the early pre-dawn hours and went out to Dambadarjaa Monastery in the suburb of Dambadarjaa, north of Ulaan Baatar proper, to Greet the Dawn at the Ovoo on Zonkov Uul. This year I went to Khiimoryn Ovoo, on the northern flanks of Bogd Khaan Uul, just to the west of the Zaisan Valley. This is a men-only ovoo; no women are allowed to go there, at least not on Tsagaan Sar. I went with my neighbor Ganaa and two of his friends. The actual moment of the New Moon was at 12:16 a.m. on the morning of the 18th. The official sunrise for Ulaan Baatar was at 7:55. We arrived at the base of the Khiimoryn Ovoo at about 6:30 to discover an immense traffic jam of several hundred cars jockeying for position in the parking lot. There was fee to visit the ovoo: 300 tögrögs for Mongolians and 3000 tögrögs for foreigners. Ganaa complained and got me in for 300 tögrögs. The climb to the ovoo is about 1000 vertical feet.

Ganaa (right) and one of his friends

Several thousand people climbing toward the ovoo. Chingeltei, one of the Four Sacred Mountains surrounding Ulaan Baatar, can be seen on the far horizon just left of center, beyond the city.

Another one of Ganaa’s friends (right), taking a breather

Approaching the ovoo
Still climbing to the ovoo

The Khiimoryn Ovoo. Notice milk offerings on the stone in foreground.

The sun actually rose over the eastern flanks of Bogd Khan Uul at 8:08. Another one of Ganaa’s friends who made the climb with us

That evening I attended a dinner party. I did not mention that I had been to Khiimoryn Ovoo that morning. Someone said that they had heard a rumor that “many foreign people dressed in deels” had been at Khiimoryn Ovoo at sunrise that day. I was there, and I was wearing my winter deel, but at the time I was struck by the fact that I appeared to be the only foreigner present. If there had been any others I think I would have noticed them. I could not help but wonder if I myself had been conflated via rumor into “many foreign people dressed in deels.”

See More Photos of Khiimoryn Ovoo

Mongolia | Abduction of the 8th Bogd Gegeen

This is an excerpt from
Mongolia: Nomad Empire of the Eternal Blue Sky.

As mentioned in a Previous Post I recently visited the former monastery and now museum at Mandshir Khiid, on the south side of Bogd Khan Uul, the huge massif which looms over the southern horizon of Ulaan Baatar. Among the dozen or so ruins scattered around the Mandshir Khiid area are the remains of the Богдын Шар Хүрээ, or Bogd’s Yellow Palace, built in 1770 to serve as a secondary residence and retreat for the Bogd Gegeens, who normally dwelt in Örgöö, now Ulaan Baatar

Mandshir Khiid, with the the Богдын Шар Хүрээ, or Bogd’s Yellow Palace, in upper left-hand corner

It was here at the Yellow Palace of Mandshir Khiid that the 8th Bogd Gegeen was housed after he was abducted by Roman “the Bloody Baron” von Ungern-Sternberg in 1921. Ungern-Sternberg, at the head of the grandly styled Asiatic Cavalry Division, hoped to expel the Chinese overlords who then ruled the country and set up his own Pan-Mongolian Buddhist empire.

Roman “The Bloody Baron” von Ungern-Sternberg

The Baron claimed to be a Buddhist, the self-styled leader of an “Order of Buddhist Warriors,” and reportedly the 13th Dalai Lama had declared that he was an emanation of Mahakala. It was also averred that he was an incarnation of Chingis Khan and/or Tamurlane.

Mahakala

Despite his highly checkered past the Baron was at first welcomed into Mongolia. According to Ladislaus Forbath, a Hungarian living in Örgöö (Ulaan Baatar) at the time:

He [Ungern-Sternberg] made speeches to the inhabitants of the frontier villages, declaring that he had come to the country in order to liberate it and drive out all foreigners, and calling upon the people to join him as a patriotic duty. He also promised again and again that once the liberation of the Mongolia people were [sic] accomplished he would organize a mighty Mongolian army, lead it into China, and after restoring the Emperor to this throne, attack Europe with a combined Sino-Mongolian army and ‘wipe out the revolution-mongers among the white races.’

When he first entered Mongolia the Baron’s army consisted of a ragtag assortment of White Russian soldiers-of-fortune and refugees; displaced Cossacks; desperados, criminals, and psychopaths of various hues; along with a leavening of Central Asian riffraff, including a detachment of Bashkir Moslems. By means of his pro-independence propaganda the Baron quickly attracted an ever-larger following of Mongolians. D. P. Pershin, a White Russian also living in Örgöö at the time reported:

Mongols who had secretly slipped through into Urga said that everywhere along the way the Mongols assisted the Baron in whatever way they could; particularly in recruiting young men, and requisitioning horses and furnishing provisions. The Baron always paid in gold coin for whatever he took from the population and he did not permit his soldiers to be violent towards or outrage the peaceful inhabitants. The population looked upon the Baron with great favor, while one wealthy Mongolian, Taiban-Teregun [?] gave his considerable support. Many Mongols joined the general as volunteers . . .

Ungern’s first attempt to take Örgöö was launched on September 24, 1920. His 2700-3000 troops were unable to dislodge the entrenched Chinese garrison of 10,000 and finally on November 7 he admitted defeat and withdrew his troops to Khökh Nuur (Dalai Nuur) in what is now Inner Mongolia in China.

While his army set up camp here Ungern traveled west into Mongolia itself to meet with delegations of Mongolian nobles, included the Setsen Khan, ruler of the Setsen khanate which at that time occupied much of eastern Mongolia and the territory around Khökh Nuur. Soon a plot was hatched to make another attempt on Örgöö, with the ultimate goal of expelling of the Chinese from the territory of Mongolia and the creation of an independent country. The 8th Bogd Gegeen, already the nominal leader of the Mongolian people, was to be declared the king of this newly-independent Mongolia.

The 8th Bogd Gegeen, the 23th Incarnation of Javsandamba, was at that time living in Chinese-occupied Örgöö, held under virtual house arrest by the Chinese authorities. During the winter of 1920—apparently after the Baron’s first assault on Örgöö, although the chronology remains uncertain—he had been forcibly removed from his palace and placed under guard in a residence in the Polovinka quarter of town. “This was, for the Urga population, thunder out of a clear blue sky, and now all awaited extraordinary events,” noted Pershin, who was in Örgöö at the time. He continues:

No one understood the grounds for his arrest. It was believed the Chinese generals wished to show the people their power and their importance and that they could do anything with impunity. It was also believed that the generals intended this to be a lesson to all who expressed discontent with the Chinese authorities: if the Bogdo [the 8th Bogd Gegeen] could be treated without ceremony, there could be no question of the others. And the garrison was to be convinced that the deity Himself remained helpless before military force and that consequently there was nothing to fear in either the incantations of the lamas or their moaning and roaring horns . . . .

After fifty days in detention the Bogd Gegeen was allowed to return to his Winter Palace, but it was clear to all that he was still under house arrest, a hostage to the demands of the Chinese administration in Örgöö. Inside the Winter Palace the Bogd Gegeen was surrounded by his own retinue of lamas and bodyguards, but outside a Chinese detachment of 350 soldiers remained constantly on guard.

The 8th Bogd Gegeen

In preparation for the assault on Örgöö Ungern moved his army to near the present-day town of Nailakh, some fifteen miles to the east of the city. The first order of business, the Baron concluded, was to secure the Living Person of the 8th Bogd Gegeen so that the Chinese could not use him as a bargaining chip in the upcoming battle for Örgöö. As Dmitri Alioshin, a White Russian soldier-of-fortune in Ungern-Sternberg’s army who later wrote a highly colored account of the ensuing events, noted “It was imperative to have the Buddha among us, for then, we expected, all of Mongolia would back us to the limit of its resources.” Pershin sounded a similar note:

It was extremely necessary for Ungern to kidnap lest the latter become a hostage in the hands of the Chinese authorities. If that were the case the Chinese would be in a position to demand many things from the Mongols, knowing full well in advance for the sake of the Bogdo the Mongols would make all sorts of concessions.

With the assistance of Setsen Khan the Baron managed to infiltrate into Örgöö secret emissaries who were finally able to arrange a meeting with the Bogd Gegeen. The details of this operation remain vague, but apparently the agents were either lamas or men posing as lamas who were able bypass the Chinese guards by claiming that they needed to talk to the Bogd Gegeen about religious matters. In any case they obtained the Bogd Gegeen’s agreement to play a passive role in his own kidnapping and, perhaps more importantly, were able to convince the entourage of Mongolian lamas and bodyguards surrounding him to assist in the plot.

The Bogd Gegeen had to be seized before the actual attack on Örgöö began and for this Ungern-Sternberg needed confederates within the town itself. His network of agents within Örgöö soon managed to recruit a Buryat named Tubanov, according to Pershin “a local desperado of unsavory reputation and repulsive exterior.” Tubanov in turn recruited cohorts from the so-called Tubuty, a colony of Tibetans who lived by themselves in a special quarter near the Zakhadyr market and subsisted by trading in Tibetan goods and money-lending. Pershin relates:

Of these tubuts Tubanov selected a gang of about sixty of the hardiest and bravest men who since childhood were accustomed to climbing their native Tibetan mountains and, what was more important, were fanatical lamaists: for the sake of serving the faith—in this case rescuing Bogdo—they would go against any odds and perform miracles of bravery. The selection was undoubtedly correct, as no one could have carried out this task better than these Tibetans; the more so as they hated the Chinese as oppressors of Tibet and outragers of the Dalai-lam [Dalai Lama] . . . . The Tibetans were particularly inspired by the thought that they were not only performing a feat of godliness and devotion, but were also helping their national cause, as the Bogdo-Gegen Jebusan-damba-Khutukhtu was of Tibetan origin and consequently a countryman of theirs . . .

Once recruited into the kidnapping plot, the Tibetans, who according to Pershin “knew how to keep their tongues between their teeth,” maintained absolute secrecy while sneaking out of their quarter “to investigate at night all the nooks and crannies, trails, paths, and projections of the Bogdo-ula along the route which they later used to carry the kidnapped Bogdo-Gegen in their arms, from the palace to the monastery of Manchushry-lam [Mandshir Khiid] on the other side of the range.” (Alioshin makes the claim that the “Tibetans” in Tubanov’s posse were actually Tanguts from the ancient realm of Xi Xia, in what is now China. In any case, they practiced Tibetan Buddhism, probably spoke Tibetan, and were no doubt indistinguishable, at least to most foreigners, from real Tibetans from Tibet.)

Meanwhile the Baron instituted a regime of psychological warfare against the Chinese garrison in the city. Pershin describes in detail one of his first gambits:

In broad daylight the town, which had been declared to be under martial arrest and even under a state of siege, and in any case supposedly under reinforced guard and teeming with soldiers, was visited personally by none other than his Excellency Baron Ungern. He called on the manor of the main representative of authority, Chen-Yi, and thereupon returned to his own camp . . . Baron Ungern wore, as usual a bright cherry colored Mongolian robe with a tall white fur papakha [Russian hat] and carried a tashur [long bamboo riding stick]. He rode his speedy white mare at a middling trot, along the main street of the Polovinka towards Chen-Yi’s residence. In the courtyard, the Baron dismounted leisurely, motioned to a soldier of the ever present guard to come to him and ordered him to hold his horse by the bridle. He the quietly walked around the house, returned to his horse, glanced carefully at the entire surroundings, tightened the saddle-girth, mounted and rode unhurriedly out of the yard in the direction of the Consular settlement and his camp. On his way back he noticed a sentry asleep at the gates of the prison. Such a breach of discipline revolted the Baron and, without dismounting, he rewarded the sleeping soldier with several blows of his tashur. The frightened soldier could not collect his wits and stood perplexed, whereupon Ungern (who knew a little Chinese) explained to him that a sentry must not sleep at his post and that for such a breech of discipline, he, Baron Ungern, had punished him personally. The scared sentry raised an alarm, but by that time the Baron was far away.

Word of this incredible stunt soon spread all over town and the superstitious soldiers in the Chinese garrison quickly concluded that the Baron must possess supernatural powers.

This was just one of the Baron’s ploys intended to demoralize the Chinese forces before his attack on the city. He also dispatched his men in groups of three to built campfires on the side of Bogd Khan Uul. Soon the mountainside was ablaze with hundred of campfires, creating the impression that a much larger army was camped above the city. Also, according to Pershin, the fires “were given a grave and mysterious meaning: the Baron up there was offering sacrifices to the host spirits of the mountain so that they might send various calamities upon those who had insulted Bogdo, the exalted protector and lord of all the surrounding country.”

By now the Chinese garrison was thoroughly rattled. Still, the Chinese generals did not suspect that the 8th Bogd Gegeen could be snatched away from under their very noses. As Pershin noted:

The whole Tola [Tuul] valley was open on every side, with not a single shrub or structure in sight. The valley nowhere afforded any protected approach to the palaces of the Bogdo, while the steep, stony fastnesses of the Bogdo-ula seemingly excluded the possibility of approaching from that side . . . Under such topographical conditions to kidnap the Bogdo from his palace was an exploit of great difficulty if not entirely impossible . . . But Ungern was a warrior to the marrow of his bones, and a gifted military chieftain at that. The harder the problem, the more zest he had for tackling it . . . .

The abduction was scheduled for February 1. This date had been arrived upon by the concerted prognostications of the whole pack of fortune-tellers, clairvoyants, mystics, and mental cases which the Baron retained in his entourage. Special importance was given to the pronouncements of lamas skilled in the art of divining the future from the scorched shoulder blades of sheep. Alioshin noted, “According to Mongolian fortuning telling and learned prophesies, the Living Buddha was supposed to be liberated from the Chinese on the first day of the battle, February 1, and we had to make the prophecy a reality at all costs.”

The Bogd Gegeen’s Winter Palace
The Bogd Gegeen’s throne, now in the Winter Palace
(See More About the Winter Palace)

At the appointed hour the Tibetans appeared at the Winter Palace in monk’s dress, appearing at first to be lamas seeking an audience with the Bogd Gegeen. Monks in the entourage of the Bogd Gegeen who were already inside the palace and who had secretly been supplied with weapons quickly disarmed and tied up the Chinese guards. The Tibetans rushed into palace and grabbed the blind Bogd Gegeen, who was waiting for them warmly dressed and equipped for a trip over the mountains. Two monks held the Bogd Gegeen under each arm and helped him onto a horse. One group of Tibetans lead the Bogd Gegeen up Zaisan Valley and to the ridgeline of Bogd Khaan Uul. “Another group of Tibetans, armed to the teeth, waited until the Bogdo was out of the palace, when they opened fire with automatic rifles upon the exterior guard of the palace to prevent them from pursuing the kidnappers . . .” The Chinese soldiers, “lacking all incentive to climb the steep, unblazed, hillside,” as Pershin put it, made no real attempt to pursue the Tibetans and the Bogd Gegeen. Alioshin claims that Tubanov and his men captured several machine guns from the Chinese guards and turned them on the Chinese themselves, killing over a thousand, although this sounds like an exaggeration.
Pershin continues:

By chance, at about four o’clock on the afternoon of the kidnapping, the author of these memoirs [Pershin writing about himself here], was looking out of his window through his Zeiss binoculars, and observed some movement on the Bogdo-ula mountainside. He did not pay much attention to this, believing that the dots moving up the hillside were Mongol guards patrolling the mountain. Besides, these dots could be observed only when they were in the snow-covered clearings. Later it transpired that they were the kidnappers of the Bogdo-Gegen.

The Bogd Gegeen, meanwhile, was handed off to a succession of relays who escorted him to Mandshir Khiid on the south side of Bogd Khan Mountain, a distance of 9.2 miles ASCF south of the Winter Palace. There he was deposited in the Yellow Palace (Shar Khüree) which had been built as a residence for the Bogd Gegeens in 1770. Here he resided while the Baron secured the city.

This 19th century painting shows Ikh Khüree at top-center, the Winter Palace at bottom left and Mandshir Khiid, on the opposite side of Bodg Khan Uul, at bottom right. The green cone-shaped hill, bottom-center, is presumably Zaisan Hill, site of the current War Memorial.

Although the abduction was a carefully planned and executed commando raid, in the minds of the populace of Örgöö the episode soon came to resemble, as Pershin pointed out, “a magic tale rather than reality.” People opined that the kidnapping was “not accomplished without the intervention of some supernatural force.” Pershin elaborates:

“Of course,” someone would say and others repeat, “Don’t you know that the kidnappers penetrated in broad daylight the palace which is in plain view of everyone, disarmed or, when necessary, killed outside and inside guards, took Bogdo and carried him in their arms out of the palace and across a high-steep and nearly inaccessible mountain, while most the guard either remained inactive or ran away—it is not a miracle? No, no, this never could have happened without the intervention of some special force! They used sorcery to divert all eyes, there is no other explanation.” Such reasoning could be heard among the Russians, Chinese, and Mongols and evoked a feeling of wonderment mixed with fear.

Indeed, the seizure of the Bogd Gegeen seems to have completely demoralized the Chinese garrison. The next day a diversionary attack by units of Ungern’s army was launched on the Chinese district of Maimacheng out near Uliastai Gol, on what is now the eastern edge of Ulaan Baatar. That same day the now totally unnerved Chinese officers and civil authorities fled the city, leaving the troops to fend for themselves. The next day, Februrary 3, the main body of Ungern’s army attacked Urga proper and quickly overran what remained of the Chinese garrison, most of which had fled in the night. A three-day orgy of pillage, plunder and murder commenced against rich Chinese, Russian, and other foreign traders; suspected Bolsheviks; and especially Jews, toward whom the Baron had a diabolical hatred. Alioshin, an eyewitness to the pogrom—he is a bit coy about the degree of his own participation—describes with all too much relish the horrific atrocities visited on the victims. This gruesome catalog of crimes need not be recounted at length here; one detail reported by Alioshin will suffice: “The humiliation of the women was so awful that I saw one of the officers ran inside a house with a razor and offer to let the girl commit suicide before she was attacked. With tears of gratitude she said a simple thanks and then slashed her own throat.”

After three days the Baron called an abrupt halt to the pogrom and any of his soldiers who disobeyed his order met much the same fate as their victims a few days earlier. Having satisfied his own bloodlust on his perceived enemies the Baron allowed the Mongolians to organize a new government. On March 21, 1921 the independent country of Mongolia was reborn, and the Bogd Gegeen was proclaimed ruler with the title of the Bogd Khan. “The actual coronation of the Living Buddha was an intricate religious ceremony requiring many hours to complete,” historian Thomas Allsen tells us. The Bogd Gegeen granted Ungern and Rezukhin, one of the General’s chief officers, the princely title of Gün as a reward for their services. As Allsen points outs, “The Living Buddha was delegated supreme secular and religious powers. However, as supreme military commander of the Mongol armies, Ungern decided all matters major or minor. The Living Buddha’s addiction to heavy drinking and his total blindness further enhanced the Baron’s position.” Ungern would remain the real ruler of Mongolia until dislodged from the country by the Bolsheviks, who in the end executed the Bloody Baron. One of Ungern’s riding boots, apparently stripped from his body when he was captured, can now be seen in the National Museum of Mongolian History in Ulaan Baatar.