Original subtitles

I've always been fascinated by nomads...

..constantly on the move...

It's the most beautiful journey.

..surviving in some of the world's most remote wildernesses...

Where's the removal van when you need it?

..and living cheek by jowl with nature.

It's always seemed a wildly romantic existence.

It's the most magical place.

But it's no easy life...

It's the sort of cold that makes you feel physically sick.

..and in today's modern world...

..they're under increasing pressure.

I'm going to live with three groups of nomads...

..in Siberia...

It's an incredibly exhilarating feeling!

..Nepal...

Namaste.

..and now in Mongolia...

Sain baina uu.

..with a family of herders, who are adapting to the 21st century

deep in the Gobi desert.

Clearly, this is a way of life that is very, very precious.

But life here is still dominated by the power of nature...

..as storms and predators constantly threaten their nomadic way of life.

I can't stand here and say, "Don't kill that wolf."

It's not my place to.

Mongolia's wild and untamed Gobi is the largest desert in Asia.

It just looks like the sort of bleakest, emptiest landscape.

And the idea of living here and of making a living here

is, erm, hard to imagine.

Yet, it's been home to families of nomads for centuries.

I'm on my way to stay with one of them.

It's just going to be really eye-opening, I think,

to discover this partnership

between them and their livestock and this landscape

that has allowed them to thrive for this long.

But Mongolia's nomads have had a chequered history.

In 1924, the country fell under communist rule.

For nearly 70 years, nomadism was banned

and the herds were collectivised.

But with the arrival of democracy in the 1990s,

an incredible one third of Mongolia's population

chose to return to their nomadic roots.

Today, it's believed that 30% of Mongolians are nomads.

But once again, their way of life is under threat.

The country is going through an economic boom fuelled by mining,

which is tempting nomads towards

a more prosperous and settled way of life.

There is something very romantic about the idea of nomadism.

Often, it isn't romantic, when you see the reality of it.

Often, it is an incredibly hard life.

It's a 600km journey from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia's capital,

to the southern half of the vast Gobi desert

and deep into the Three Beauties mountain range.

I want to know what's keeping nomads here.

The family I'm staying with move four times a year with the seasons.

At 2,500 metres above sea level,

this is their spring camp.

TOGETHER: Sain baina uu.

I am Kate.

Kate. Hello. Sain baina uu.

Odnor and...?

Chimed. Chimed.

Chimed.

Thank you for inviting me to stay with your family.

Chimed is 78 and the head of a large family.

She has ten children.

Her youngest daughter, Odnor, lives with her.

Can I have a look around? Will you show me around?

OK.

What is happening?

Odnor is married to Serego,

and Chimed's youngest son, Battsog, is staying with them

to help with the busy cashmere wool harvest.

GOAT BLEATS LOUDLY

Don't they make the most terrible noise?

Oh-oh, look at these!

The family own an impressive 200 goats,

150 sheep and over 100 yaks and horses.

So, these Kashmir? Goat?

He's hungry.

You can just see some lovely

black and brown and white dots on the hillside.

And that's all the adults coming in.

So, all these little ones are going to get a feed in a minute.

So, it will get very noisy.

Baah! Baah!

The animals are like the family's bank account,

their meat and milk providing food and their wool an income.

In Mongolia, they're key to nomadic success or failure.

Are there many wolves in this area?

Oh, dear.

I'm not allowed any more goats at home.

But I might have to make an exception.

Beautiful!

They all live in this communal tent known as a ger.

It's their kitchen, living room and bedroom.

Has this always been your home?

Chimed grew up during the communist era,

working on a state farm with her husband, who died two years ago.

Their return to nomadism in the 1990s revived a long heritage...

..and Chimed proudly displays her family's heirlooms

in the roof of the ger.

It's beautiful.

Well, this is my wedding ring.

This ring belonged to my husband's grandmother.

And inside there is engraved the word "twelfth".

And she was married on 12th September.

My parents also got married on 12th September.

And me and my husband got married on the 12th September.

So, three generations got married on the same day.

So, it's very special.

Life is fragile out here in the Gobi.

It's vital to keep their animals safe,

especially at this time with the newborns,

like this gorgeous two-day-old foal, the first of the year.

If those family heirlooms remind them of their past,

this new foal is a potent symbol of their future.

It's the most magical place.

The film crew and I are camping

a few hundred metres up the valley from the family.

Clearly, this is a way of life that is very precious.

And they're here with dignity.

They're not living in abject poverty.

There just seems to be a huge amount of...

..a sort of, well, I think pride is the only word I can think of, really,

in the way that they live this life.

DOG BARKS

It's ten to six.

First morning...

..waking up in the Gobi.

Here we are.

Morning, everyone.

I can't do this...!

There's not a sound.

It's so quiet.

I haven't even washed my face for you. I'm so sorry.

Meeting the family yesterday, which is always quite nerve-racking...

..because it's a big leap.

You're kind of just stepping into their lives

and hoping that they might take you in.

And, er...

..that's a big ask.

But it was just a really lovely, lovely start.

GOATS BLEAT

Every morning begins with rounding up the animals.

The relationship between man and beast

is the bedrock of nomadism and goes back millennia.

CHIMED SNEEZES

Bless you!

But Chimed and her family enjoy some of life's modern amenities, too.

And what do you run off here?

Most nomads in Mongolia are embracing modernity.

Why not? If it makes a tough life that little bit easier,

whether it be a solar panel

or a four-by-four to help fetch the water from the local well.

From their current camp, it's an 8km round trip every three days.

Before you had a car,

so maybe when you were a child,

how would you have collected the water then?

Oh, so, here's the well, here.

I can't move it on my own.

OK, ready?

THEY STRAIN HARD TOGETHER

Wow, this is not easy!

KATE:

The adult goats and sheep are separated from their young,

so they can graze on the surrounding mountains.

The four-by-four was perfect for fetching water,

but to follow the herd, nothing beats a horse.

This is the most extraordinary saddle.

I feel very perched up, very upright and rather elegant.

But only when I'm standing still.

So, you want me to keep the reins short? OK.

OK, yeah.

And feet forward?

Right...

If I can walk by the end of today, it'll be a miracle.

OK.

Mongolians are famed for their horsemanship

and, like Odnor, most learn to ride from the age of four.

Back in the 12th century,

it was horsepower that helped Mongol warlord Genghis Khan

create one of the largest empires the world has ever known.

Horse is, er, mur.

Yama?

Yama, goat. Goat.

Khon, sheep. Khon.

Today, we're using horses to help keep an eye on the livestock

and to protect them from predators,

foxes, wolves and snow leopards,

that roam these bleak mountains.

Mountain. Mountain. Yeah.

Mountain. Mountain. Mountain.

So, yama is goat.

And I've been teaching her English.

So, what is yama? Yama, goat.

Goat, you see? Yeah. So, we've been teaching each other.

Khon?

Sheep. Sheep.

We're getting good!

And mur?

Horse.

See?

So, yeah. So, I've just had a little language lesson.

I am practically local.

Right. Oh, my goodness...

Odnor spends much of the day watching the flock,

but also finds time to do her beautiful and intricate sewing.

Did Chimed teach you to sew?

So, do the men sew as well? Will your husband sew?

Actually, my husband, he is better than me.

He's good.

He has a sewing machine.

KATE IMITATES A SEWING MACHINE

So, is it always your job to come out with the sheep?

I haven't met your son yet.

Does he not live with you and Chimed?

So, who looks after them in Dalanzadgad?

Odnor's children, aged 15 and 13,

only come home during holidays and for special occasions.

So, did you do the same?

Under the old communist system, a strict education policy

helped achieve one of the highest literacy rates in the world.

It continues today.

But to get an education,

children must still go to the local towns and cities.

And as those cities grow,

young people are being drawn to the modern world

and away from their nomadic culture.

And your children, Odnor, will they be nomads?

I suppose what I'm gradually unpicking about this way of life

is, you know, Odnor went to school, but she's chosen to live this life.

You know, no-one's stopping anybody progressing,

but I think they are aware that their knowledge is meaningful.

Erm, but it does allow them to survive

and it allows them to live a life that they choose.

They want to live this life.

Erm, they have an option to be somewhere else

and yet they want to be here.

Today's a big occasion in the nomads' calendar.

All of Chimed's sons, daughters and grandchildren have come together.

Every year, the family unites to castrate the young male animals.

Did you learn from your father how to do the castration?

It's for you.

Now I can come and sit beside you.

First, it's the young stallions.

How often do your family all get together?

When do you see everybody?

HE GRUNTS WITH EFFORT

Next, the goats and lambs.

All the smoke around here, as far as I can gather,

is almost like a sort of healing smoke.

Again, very much part of this ceremony.

LAMB BLEATS

It's a lot easier than a horse.

With a quick blessing, the lamb's released.

It may look harsh,

but Battsog's doing it with real respect for his animals.

Oh, dear...

It's a rite of passage. Think of it that way.

LAMB BLEATS

The iron-rich testicles are believed to have health-giving properties.

But the real treat is to boil them in salted water with yellow rice

to make a rich soup.

There's a lot here. I think I've got more than my share.

Erm...

Looks like hundreds!

I've got... So, these...

You just do that? Really?

Ah!

OK, now you've done it, I'm going to have to do it.

Mine's bigger than yours!

This one? Like that?

Oh, don't make me laugh. It'll be a disaster.

OK, ready?

Actually, that's quite good.

It's not chewy at all. It's very soft and rather delicious.

Oh, my goodness! My poor little lambs at home...

They've got very fine testicles at the moment.

I wasn't going to castrate them this year and now, maybe I will!

No, no, you must give everyone else.

Today, I'm going 15km down the valley

to visit Odnor's sister Suren.

She and her husband, Tsengel, are still in their winter quarters,

in a sheltered spot on the edge of the mountains.

Tomorrow, they're moving to their spring camp.

Hi, Suren!

How are you?

Like most nomads in the Gobi,

Suren and Tsengel move to the same spring camp every year.

It's deep in the mountains

and at this time should be full of fresh grass.

Looking around, there are animals everywhere.

It must be quite hard herding them around here.

It looks like they can go right up into the mountains.

You must be very fit.

Good calf muscles, running up the hills.

OK.

Hello, dog.

So, you all seem very relaxed

for a family who is about to pack up your whole house and move.

How do you decide when to move from this, your winter quarters,

to your spring and summer quarters?

If you didn't move, would you feel that you'd lost

some very important part of your identity?

Oh, thank you.

We're all sleeping in Suren's ger tonight,

the crew and I, Suren and her family, all squashed together.

I have a thing about communal sleeping.

I just think sleeping is something that should be

kind of quite a private thing.

You know, you've sort of been with people all day.

I wasn't really looking forward to it.

But...

Well, to put it very simply, I slept incredibly well.

It was lovely and warm.

Erm, everyone was very well behaved.

There was no nasty smells or noises to keep anyone awake.

And what a beautiful morning.

With a busy day ahead, everyone's lending a hand.

Suren's brother-in-law, Serego, has brought his truck.

Do you want a hand, Suren?

Shall we put it on the back?

The ger's an amazingly simple structure,

with a canvas outer to protect against the wind and the rain,

a warm felted sheep-wool liner

and a wooden frame to hold it all up.

So, what next?

Isn't it funny?

Men always have to pack the car. Always.

Oh...!

Last on the truck are the youngest animals

that can't make the arduous journey on foot.

That's so clever. That's just genius.

There is something lovely about that ability

to be able to up sticks and go whenever you feel like it.

As long, obviously, as it's the Day of the Dog, the Cock or the Horse,

I think.

It's taken less than four hours

to pack the entirety of Suren and Tsengel's home.

Once, a herd of yaks would have carried it over the mountains.

Today, it all fits onto Serego's truck.

But their most valuable possession, the herd,

is still driven the traditional way,

by horse.

This is a wonderful experience.

But it wasn't this romantic view

that brought so many nomads back to this way of life

after communism collapsed in the 1990s.

High inflation and food shortages

made life in towns and settlements unbearable.

So, families like Suren's chose to return to nomadism in the desert.

After four hours' heading steadily uphill,

finally, fresh mountain pasture.

It's been a daylong 10km ride over the mountains

to get to the spring camp.

Oh, very good.

Home-made gers, like this one, are found across Asia.

It faces south, so it gets the warmth of the sun

and is away from the prevailing bad weather.

A ger is often given to a young couple when they get married

and they'll use it for the rest of their life.

Are you happy with your new home, with your new spot?

Yeah.

I could live with this view, I have to say.

THEY BOTH LAUGH

It's pretty special, it really is.

The next day, back at Chimed's, there's sad news.

Under cover of darkness, wolves have killed the beautiful young foal.

Do you lose a lot of your livestock to wolves?

If you find where the wolf is, what will you do?

But Battsog also believes that predators bring some benefits.

I don't know what I'd do if I was in his situation. I simply don't know.

He's the one that lives here.

He's the one whose livestock are being killed.

I can't...

I can't stand here and say, "Don't kill that wolf."

It's not my place to.

Odnor and Chimed are taking me to their local stupa or shrine.

It's 4km up the valley from their camp, just below a holy mountain.

It's a Buddhist place of worship.

During communist rule, Buddhism was banned

and many temples were destroyed.

But with its collapse, Buddhist traditions returned

and now Odnor and Chimed can practise their beliefs openly.

As we turn the wheel,

our prayers drift out on the wind and to the corners of the earth.

Chimed's eldest daughter's camp is just 500 metres down the valley.

Tsitsigar has asked me to help comb her Kashmir goats.

After China, Mongolia is the world's largest producer of cashmere.

It comes from grooming out the goats' winter hair.

For nomads, like Tsitsigar, it's an important cash crop.

So, do you just do this once a year?

A kilo of raw cashmere sells for around 70,000 tughriks, or £25.

With her flock of 250 goats,

Tsitsigar can earn up to £4,500 a year.

Tell you what, in another few days,

you're going to have to do this with my hair as well.

As we comb the goats, the weather outside turns.

WIND HOWLS

During spring in the Gobi,

Mongolians talk of having four seasons in one day,

turning from a blue sky to a snowstorm in minutes.

But this blizzard's nothing compared to the harsh winters,

when fierce storms known as dzuds often sweep in, decimating herds.

In 2010, a severe storm was estimated to have killed

a staggering eight-and-a-half million animals.

Thousands of herding families were forced to abandon their way of life.

Tsitsigar may earn good money from her cashmere,

but one bad winter could wipe her out.

Do you hope that this way of life, erm,

will continue, say, for your grandchildren's generation?

Well, this is the view...

..that's greeted me from my tent flap this morning.

Basically...

..it's a whiteout.

So, erm, I'm all wrapped up...

..in every layer of clothing I possess.

Last night, it was a pretty wild night.

And at around 3.30,

the dogs were going absolutely mad,

which made me think,

"I wonder if that means that there's a lot of wolf activity?"

I just wonder, with all the commotion that was going on last night,

whether they did come back.

Battsog decided to leave the foal carcass out for the wolves.

With cubs to feed, the chance of them returning was high.

So, it was an opportunity for us to put out a night-vision camera

to see if we could catch the wolves in action.

Erm, I just wanted to show you what the camera found.

Do you want to come and see?

So, you can see this is the foal here.

DOGS BARK

You can hear the dogs.

But watch what happens...

In the spring, everybody does say the weather is, er, unpredictable.

Or predictably unpredictable, I suppose.

And yesterday was a day of blizzards and dust storms

and freezing temperatures.

And you literally couldn't wear enough clothes.

And we've woken up this morning to the most beautiful sunshine

and, erm, all of us,

we're all in kind of spring-clean mode.

Lots of shaking out of sleeping bags and washing of hair,

which is a completely pointless exercise

because, in about two minutes,

I'm going to be down the hill with Odnor,

sorting out her sheep and covered in dust again.

But, you know, a girl's got to try.

We're heading off to the local town of Dalanzadgad,

to sell some of the family's cashmere.

It's a three-hour drive through the mountains and spirits are high.

I have a feeling this is going to be a dangerous day,

going to the big city with two nomads.

The last time they were in town was over three months ago.

So, before you had a car,

would you go by horse to the town to sell the cashmere?

Dalanzadgad is the provincial capital, with a population of 18,000.

Like many urban areas in Mongolia, it's growing rapidly,

as the younger generation is tempted by modern city life.

But it's also home to former nomads,

whose livelihoods were ruined by the storms in 2010.

Odnor and Serego are meeting a cashmere trader

by the side of the road.

Mongolian cashmere is said to be the finest in the world.

The combed hair will be processed

into the fine and highly prized yarn in the capital, Ulaanbaatar.

That's £250 for ten kilos of goat hair.

Since the end of communism, the production of cashmere has grown

to become Mongolia's second largest industry.

Odnor and Sergo take me to the local supermarket

to spend some of their hard-earned cash.

For me, it's a very interesting idea

that you can hang on to your nomadism

and your culture and your traditions,

which they most certainly have.

But equally, you know, they go to the supermarket

and they buy a shedload of sweets.

I think it's sort of rather pragmatic nomadism.

Mongolia's economy is booming.

And not because of cashmere.

Large mineral deposits have been found beneath the Gobi

and mining has become the country's biggest industry.

It's estimated that it will grow by 30% over the next few years.

This new-found wealth is having a negative impact

on Mongolia's nomads.

Do you think that more and more people

will be tempted away from nomadic life

and go into mining and into industry

and move to the cities?

It's hardly surprising that young people are being tempted away,

when the mining sector pays up to $2,000 a month,

13 times what most herders can make.

But this family has a large and valuable herd.

As well as goats and sheep,

they are the proud owners of a fine collection of horses and yaks.

Yaks are supremely adapted to life in this harsh landscape.

They used to carry the family's possessions when they moved camp,

but with four-by-fours and trucks doing the hard work now,

yaks are kept as a symbol of pride and prestige,

as well as for their milk and wool.

That's fantastic.

Just magnificent. Magnificent scenery.

There is nothing cooler than a yak.

In two days' time, there's a yak festival in a neighbouring valley

and the whole herd will be on show.

You look out at these, you know, seemingly barren hills and think,

"How on earth do you keep livestock alive?"

You know, these animals are as canny as their owners,

when it comes to making a living out of this landscape.

It's lovely to watch.

The family have invited me to go with them to the yak festival.

But I need to be properly dressed.

Odnor has made me a del, a traditional Mongolian overcoat.

It's amazing!

She's very, very clever, your daughter.

So, do you think I look OK for the yak festival?

I won't let your family down?

TRADITIONAL MONGOLIAN MUSIC

It's the day of the much-anticipated yak festival.

TANNOY:

Just how Mongolia manages its transition

to a modern global economy,

yet maintains its rich nomadic heritage,

is a difficult balancing act.

But festivals like this,

set up by the regional government to support nomads

and to encourage tourism,

are a step in the right direction.

And they're a wonderful opportunity for nomadic families to come together.

Do you speak English? I do speak English.

I want to speak English.

You are! And doing it very well.

I am study English. Yeah. Do you understood?

I understand completely.

Very good!

Over 300 yaks have been herded into the valley.

The festivities begin with yak rodeo...

SPECTATORS GASP

CHEERING

Next is a competition for all the family.

What do you want me to do?

The men must catch a yak and shear it,

while we make a rope from its wool.

Hold it tight? OK.

We were a little bit slow.

I'm sorry I couldn't help more.

Yeah, it was hard on your hands.

And now, like any good Mongolian spring day,

it's starting to snow...

And in the grand tradition of all country fairs,

there are prizes galore.

Tsitsigar has won the best female yak.

Whoo-hooo!

Chimed looks so delighted.

Look how proud she looks.

This whole festival is about

restoring yak herding to this province

and remembering how important these animals are

to the nomadic families here.

But most of all, I've just had a real sense of how nomadic families

may live these very remote and often isolated lives,

but it doesn't mean that there isn't a really strong sense of community

and tradition and culture.

And today has been all about that.

With the festival over,

my time with Chimed and her family has come to an end, too.

These look beautiful. What are they called?

Buuz? Uh-huh, buuz.

Mm...!

It seems like you've managed to, erm,

to partner in a very successful way

tradition and modern life,

without, er, affecting, erm,

the sort of heart of nomadic life.

Is it a good life?

It's just been the most fantastic privilege, er, to be here

and I just wanted to say thank you.

Aw...

Don't say that.

Thank you.

Look at us!

There's no doubt that nomads across the globe are under threat

and the odds are stacked against their extraordinary way of life.

But here in Mongolia, at least, I'm cautiously optimistic.

This is modern nomadism...

..with all its traditions, with all its cultures absolutely intact.

But these are people who are not shying away from the modern world at all.

Chimed and her family have shown me

that there's a place for nomads today

and I'm really hopeful that their descendants will be here

in centuries to come.

Thank you for everything.

This is clearly not an easy choice of life.

Erm, and I think that's what makes me admire them even more.

They are nomads and they're fantastically proud of that

and they seem almost as much part of this landscape

as the mountains and the birds of prey and the wolves.