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Crossing the frozen lake to find the reindeer "kingdom".
Hoang Ba Dinh, nicknamed "Where Did Dinh Go?", had the opportunity to set foot in the snowy forests of Mongolia and meet the last reindeer tribe in the world at the end of February.
Prior to this, the 27-year-old teacher had conquered about 10 countries, including Nepal, India, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, China, South Korea, and many Southeast Asian nations. It was the reindeer-herding tribe living deep in the taiga forest that brought the young man to Mongolia. This is one of the rare nomadic communities that still retains its traditional way of life today.
However, the road to the village is not easy at all.
Hoang Ba Dinh had the opportunity to set foot in the snowy forests of Mongolia and meet the last reindeer tribe in the world at the end of February.
The two-day, one-night trip began with exhilaration in a typical Russian van, traversing snow-covered roads. On either side, snow-capped pine forests appeared, as if straight out of a Nordic fairy tale. One of the most memorable experiences was driving straight across a completely frozen lake. For many first-time visitors, traveling across a vast frozen lake was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.
The scenery along the road seemed straight out of a fairy tale. A snow-covered pine forest, a winding road through the wilderness, and the characteristic biting cold of the northern region. "The road was quite bumpy and difficult to navigate. If you get motion sickness easily, you should prepare some medicine beforehand," Dinh chuckled as he recalled the journey.
For many first-time visitors to this region, traveling across a vast frozen lake is a thrilling and nerve-wracking experience.
After hours of traversing the snow-covered forest, the sight before them left the entire group almost speechless. Amidst the blanket of white, nomadic tents and a few charming little wooden houses were scattered about. Thin wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys in the late afternoon light created an unusually peaceful scene.
“The journey was more rugged and challenging than anywhere I’ve ever been,” Dinh recalled with a smile. But the reward for their perseverance was a scene that left the whole group speechless: Amidst the pristine white of the snow-covered forest, nomadic ortzes and a few small wooden houses began to appear. Thin wisps of smoke from the cooking fires drifted through the twilight, signaling the enduring existence in the sub-zero temperatures of the North.
One night in the middle of a snowy forest, I opened my eyes and saw reindeer.
No electricity, no running water, no phone signal, and no streetlights. Those were the first things Đình's group noticed upon arriving at the reindeer tribe's dwelling. This very lack of modern conveniences created a unique experience. That evening, the group gathered around the fireplace in the small wooden house. Outside, the temperature was very low, but inside the room it remained warm thanks to the glowing wood fire.
In this frigid land, firewood is not just for cooking; it's the "heartbeat" of life. The outdoor temperature dropped to record lows, forcing the group to take turns setting alarms every hour to wake up and add more firewood.
It is precisely this lack of modern amenities that creates a unique experience at Hoang Ba Dinh.
As the idle chatter faded, stepping out of the wooden door, Dinh was confronted with a vast, breathtaking starry sky. Amidst the silent taiga forest, the stars twinkled as if they could be touched. In that moment, freedom was no longer an abstract concept, but present in every breath, tinged with the cool air. "It felt truly free," he recalled.
The trip coincided with the traditional Lunar New Year celebration of the local people. We witnessed nomadic children, their cheeks flushed from the cold, dressed in vibrant traditional costumes, playing happily in their tents. Life here is simple and pure, self-sufficient, yet it possesses a peace that the concrete jungles of the city can never offer.
If the Taiga forest at night was a tranquil symphony of fire and stars, then the following morning was a priceless cinematic scene that Dinh had never dared to dream of.
As darkness receded, giving way to the first rays of sunlight filtering through the snow-laden pine needles, Dinh slipped out of the small wooden door. In the absolute stillness of the early morning, he heard a series of rustling sounds on the snow. Then, suddenly, from behind the old pine trees, a herd of dozens of reindeer ambled out, their breath turning into wisps of white smoke that dissipated into the air.
"At that moment, my heart tightened with astonishment, then immediately burst into a shout calling out to everyone. It felt like I had accidentally touched a lost chapter in a fairy tale from my childhood," Dinh recalled emotionally.
The reindeer, with their silvery-gray coats and antlers reaching high like dry branches, strolled leisurely between the tents. They were strangely docile, showing no fear at the arrival of the visitors. Some approached, allowing the cold from their wet noses to touch his hand—a magical interplay between man and the wild creatures of the forest.
Watching the reindeer move gracefully beneath the Taiga forest canopy, Dinh understood that this was not just a tourist experience, but a "privilege".
Children in Mongolia
