The Altai Project: A Bikepacking Adventure (Video)

Words by Alba Xandri, video and photos by Ricard Calmet

A year ago, we heard about the secrets of the Ukok Plateau, nestled in the wild heart of the Republic of Altai, west of Siberia. Those four letters, U-K-O-K, ignited an adventure into an untamed and formidable realm. This journey began not with the hum of bicycle wheels but with a labyrinth of bureaucracy: securing visas, permits, and transport. It was a complex puzzle that we could have filled volumes writing about—a test of our resolve to reach the gates of this inaccessible paradise. Our quest was to traverse Ukok and scale the majestic Altai mountain range on the Siberian and Mongolian sides.

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Once on the ground, after a detailed examination of our kit and documentation by Russian border guards, we crossed into Siberia and set our course for the plateau. Beyond those gates awaited a world so remote that trails dissolved into treacherous scree, cell phones became useless, and nature, in all its majesty, asserted the rules. Biking across the plateau, where marmots, bears, and elusive snow leopards roam, was a visceral experience that pushed our endurance and challenged our limits. Surrounded by towering peaks, we felt both minuscule and profoundly alive. In this wild expanse, caution was essential; we were acutely aware that any misstep could lead to dire consequences.

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Every turn of the pedals became a sacred connection with the vastness around us. As we savored the beauty of Ukok, journeying through deep valleys and remote passes, we arrived at the village of Belyashi, where we replenished our supplies in a humble grocery store. Our next destination was Argut, where life was stripped down to the essentials, testing our commitment to adventure. As we rode, the heat of the day produced dramatic storms, forcing us to seek refuge in shepherds’ huts that we fortuitously discovered.

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Our expedition transformed into a mission of solidarity when we encountered an unexpected landslide. Nearby, a family in a tent called out, explaining their desperate situation: they’d been forced to abandon their van due to the fury of the storm and the devastation it left in its wake. We took their rescue message to Argut, becoming unlikely messengers in this remote land. Upon our arrival, we were reminded that our journey transcended mere travel; it was a profound experience of shared humanity in a breathtaking landscape. The villagers rallied to our cause, starting a generator to produce enough electricity to send an urgent plea for help to the nearest police station.

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As our journey continued toward Kosh-Agach, the Altai Tavan Bogd National Park awaited us beyond the Russian-Mongolian border. Tall white peaks and soaring eagles heralded the dawn of a new chapter. Cycling through Tavan Bogd was a feast for the senses: we camped beside crystalline lakes, gazed upon towering glaciers, and basked in the tranquility of unspoiled nature. Every moment was a triumph; every kilometer traveled was a cherished reward. Remarkably, in this national park, we encountered no signs of mass tourism, only the raw beauty of the land.

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We exited the park and headed south, where treacherous tracks and fierce winds tested our determination yet again. As we approached the town of Bulgan, we were halted by an officer in what looked like a military 4×4 asking us if we had permission to cross the area. Unfortunately, we lacked the necessary documentation for that particular track. Despite sensing our despair at being unable to continue, the officer initially insisted we turn back, which would mean two more days of cycling. Thankfully, at the last moment, he seemed to recognize that we were only a couple of harmless cyclists, and he let us continue.

As we neared Bulgan, the landscape shifted. After days of heat, sandy trails, fatigue, and a lingering ailment that had drained our energy, we decided to pause for a couple of days to regain our strength. We indulged in modern comforts: fresh fruit, hearty meals, and steaming coffee, acutely aware that we were in the final stretch of our odyssey. Arriving in Bulgan, our hearts brimmed with memories while our bodies ached from the journey.

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The final days brought us full circle, concluding an itinerary that once felt like a distant dream. As the Mongolians prepared for the seasonal migration due to the change of the seasons, we reflected on the impact of our journey. Our footprint on the Altai Mountains may have been invisible, dissolving into the vast Siberian expanse, but its imprint on our souls was indelible.

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Every moment lived, every breathtaking vista, every drop of sweat shed, and every soul met along the way etched itself into our hearts as a permanent mark. You don’t need to go to the other side of the world to find beautiful places, but after experiencing the grandeur of the Altai Mountains, we’ve found that it was well worth all the effort.

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The Route

Further Reading

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