Myagaa - Eight Lakes, Mongolia

Young mother Myagaa lives with her husband and children in a ger that currently overlooks a landscape so breathtakingly beautiful it seems almost surreal. Unable to reach the area by vehicle, we have trekked on horseback for a day to reach her.

Emma looking out over the Eight Lakes valley

She has seen many changes that she associates with global warming. There used to be eight great lakes but some are now tiny and others have even dried up completely. There also used to be many more streams and rivers. Recently she's seen dust rolls here too, which is a worrying new sign of a changing climate.

One of the Eight Lakes reduced to a puddle

This all makes the nomadic herding life more difficult. The animals do not get fat as they should and give less milk. Myagaa worries that her nomadic lifestyle will not be possible in the future. It's a big problem everywhere and most people she knows are worrying about it.

Morning at the lakes

Myagaa believes it's everyone's job to fix climate change but she's not convinced it's possible. She says she can't do much and it's not difficult to see why: this way of life could hardly be lower impact. The family do not have a car, which would be useless in this terrain. Heating is provided from the ubiquitous wood and dung burning stove that resides in the centre of each round ger tent. However, Myagaa tries not to litter and uses yak dung for the stove as much as possible, to avoid cutting down trees. The government here talk a lot about taking action on climate change but Myagaa can't see them doing much yet. Sound familiar?

Myagaa & her husband in front of their ger

Myagaa knows it's possible to live without fossil fuels because this is the ancient way of life Mongolians have been living "since the times of Chinggis Khaan" and beyond. She is optimistic for the future but worries for her children. She is particularly worried that a lack of rain from climate change will force them to leave behind forever the nomadic way of life that she loves.

Vaanchig, Southern Gobi: what does climate change mean to you?

Vaanchig - Southern Gobi

For three seasons of the year Vaanchig lives next to some of the most impressive sand dunes in Mongolia. In fact, he recognises his neighbour's horse on the cover of our guide book. Most of his eight grown up children have now moved away but one son still lives at home. When we arrive, a week before the family are to move to their winter residence, he is extremely welcoming. He asks each of our group how are animals are doing and offers perfumed nasal explosive, also known as snuff, both with a cheeky knowing smile.

Vaanchig & his snuff bottle

Our smiling, mischievous host has worries though and once the interview begins I see a more serious side to Vaanchig. He thinks climate change will be a big problem for Mongolia.

Especially in the last few years, he has seen big changes in nature. He tells me that in Mongolia the biggest problem is a lack of rain. This year there was almost no rain, or snow in the winter. Even the water under ground, where the roots of plants could grow down to reach is now failing.

The incredible landscape in which Vaanchig lives

Compared to other parts of Mongolia the grass grows more sparsely here and creeping desertification is a constant threat. In the South Gobi there are now many more people and cars. The cars turn useful grassland to sand.

Vaanchig hears people talking about globalisation. He belives that as we live on one earth, everyone needs to try to solve the problem of climate change. It's not enough to work in isolation, all our efforts need to be connected.

Emma, Vaanchig & guide Khuu

"We need to reduce the pollution from industry and cars" says Vaanchig. "We must reduce the pollution everywhere!" He thinks the Mongolian government need to do something because they're doing nothing at the moment. They're just fighting about unimportant things. He can imagine a life without fossil fuels but at the moment everyone is so dependent.

Sunset at the top of the 200m sand dune overlooking Vaanchig's ger

I thank Vaanchig for his time and his thoughtful opinions and get up to leave but he stops me, saying he has a question for me. He asks me if I know whether other countries have been stealing Mongolia's rain by "shooting the clouds". At first I rather conceitedly think he's referring to a superstition or that he's misunderstood something he heard on the radio. I'm humbled when Jeff, an American who we have been travelling with, realises he's talking about cloud seeding. He informs us both that China does use cloud seeding for special occasions but that they wouldn't do it regularly because it interferes with rain cycles.

Boli, Gurvan Saikhan National Park: what does climate change mean to you?

Boli - Gurvan Saikhan National Park, Mongolia

Boli and his wife and children live the traditional nomadic life in the beautiful Gurvan Saikhan National Park, which lies in the Southern, Gobi region of Mongolia. He is worried about climate change and has been well informed about it by his radio.

Emma, Boli and guide/translator Khuu

The last few years have been very dry with not nearly enough rain. No rain equals no grass, so Boli's animals don't have enough to eat. If they don't get fat enough over the summer, they will die in the winter. The situation is not disastrous now, particularly as the tourist trade supplements the diminishing support from his livestock, but he's concerned about how things will be in 30-40 years time if things carry on as they are. He has a longer time frame than most people I know.

Nomadic life in the Gobi

Boli thinks that everyone should try to fix climate change and has low energy lighting, which is powered by a solar photovoltaic panel, a fixture of most gers. He is also concerned about litter, which is heartbreakingly ubiquitous here, and tries not to contribute to the problem himself.

Curiously, for someone who remembers when animals not oil were the primary power source, as recently as the 1970s, he can't imagine a life without fossil fuels. He knows this sort of life is possible but cannot see how things can go back to how they were.

The view from a gerr

Later that day, after we leave Boli, we visit the 'ice gorge', which until recently boasted a year round ice packed crevice. Even our 2008 guidebook doesn't tell how the summer heat now steals away this impressive attraction and disappoints the many who visit in the height of the tourist season. That said, this is not all that surprising from the 'book of lies'.

Like the ice gorge, Boli's traditional nomadic family life is an attraction for tourists that is under threat from climate change. His dwindling income from the degraded environment is now supplemented by the very people who are destroying it by flying into the country in droves to gawp at a life, which demonstrates a stark contrast to their own cash-rich, wellbeing-poor existence at home.

The question that I cannot escape at the moment is whether this destruction is merely absent-minded or knowingly selfish? With knowledge of the great damage we're doing ourselves becoming clearer every day, I fear we can no longer excuse it as the former.

Khuu - Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

We asked to meet our guide before we began the trip. Mainly because the hostel we booked the trip with were cagey about their ability to provide someone with sufficient English skills for translation purposes. As soon as Khuu (pronounced 'hoo') entered the room and said hello we knew she'd be great. Her English was fantastic and, as we would soon find out, her sense of humour was wicked. She's from Southern Gobi region but now lives in the capital, working as a guide to help pay for her sisters' education.

Khuu in the doorway of a (typically) solar-powered gerr

On the second day of the trip, with the backdrop of the incredible 'White Cliffs' in the Dundgov province, South of Ulaanbaatar, our conversation drifts towards climate change. Khuu tells me about how she can see the climate changing and its effect on the landscape. It's getting drier each year and Khuu discovers more rivers have vanished from her tourist trail each new season, as she makes the long trips around the country with van-loads of adventure-seekers.

Emma (with pickles) and Khuu at the White Cliffs

The elders talk about how they used to be able to predict the seasons and the weather, particularly when there would be a good or a bad year, but this is no longer possible. Even the rain falls differently now. It comes in shorter and more intense bouts that doesn't get absorbed by the land.

These changes have had a dramatic effect on wildlife. The land used to be graced with many herds of wild sheep, gazelles and donkeys. The lack of rain has meant there's no longer enough grass or water to support them.

Khuu teaching Emanuel & Emma to make camel meat dumlings

According to Khuu, everyone in Mongolia is aware of climate change as a global problem too because they have radios and some have televisions. She also tells me that looking after the environment is deeply embedded in the Mongolian psyche and promises to tell me the old folk tale, which warns Mongolians as children about the dangers of wronging the earth that supports us.

Khuu beating us all at the traditional Mongolian game of anklebone shooting

She tells me that she thinks the nomadic lifestyle will die out and that most Mongolians want to leave the country because they think they can have a better quality of life abroad. I fear she is mistaken though. We may have more money but we are demonstrably no happier for it. Rather than exporting our disfunctional and self-destructive Western ways, in the name of so-called 'development', perhaps we should show a little more humility and learn what we can from societies like Khuu's before we obliterate them completely.

A Russian Climate Story

Russia has a lot to lose from climate change. A recent study by the World bank reported that the country is particularly vulnerable to the effects of climate change due to its ageing infrastructure, environmental damage caused by the Soviet regime and extreme weather patterns. In the 50 years the largest territory in the world can look forward to severe storms, heat waves and flooding, which they are ill-prepared to cope with. Herders in the north of the country are increasingly under threat from the melting permafrost.

St Basil's Cathedral, Moscow

Russians refer to an out of place building as a rotten tooth. With the USA and China both now taking climate change more seriously will Russia end up being the 'rotten tooth' in climate negotiations? This is looking less likely than it once was. Russia at last seems to have stepped up to take its important role in the grand political narrative of climate change.

Crumbling church gate, North West of Moscow

And when Russia does decide to take action on climate change mitigation, its socialist structures still in place will make it their achievement easier. For example energy efficiency in buildings will be easier to enforce because freehold of buildings by local government is far more common. In the UK the government has trouble persuading people to install measures like cavity wall insulation, even when it makes financial sense to do so.

So what do real people think about climate change in Russia? The ones I spoke to are by no means a representative sample but their views do provide an interesting insight into how Russians relate to climate change.

Traditional Russian wooden house

With varying degrees of seriousness, everyone jokes that the weather will be more amenable because of climate change. I'm no There is unanimity that the weather has changed in recent years, with much milder winters than they are used to.

There is a feeling that other countries have much to lose from climate change but I'm not sure the connection to increaed natural disasters and global food supply, and the potentially disastrous implications for Russia as a net food importer, have really been made. At least not in the eyes of individuals yet. Many of the people I spoke to believe that it will take a natural disaster, like Hurricane Katrina in the USA, for Russians to take climate change seriously.

Beautiful Lake Baikal, which is under threat from climate impacts

Much fuss is made over how readily Russians have embraced consumerism and how bad this is for climate change, amongst other environmental problems. A few days after my first interview with the six young people from Moscow, I speak again to the most skeptical member of the group, whose first baby is due next spring. He tells me that although some people want only for their children to be rich, he would rather his grew up to be happy. An unusual individual decision or a sign of things to come?

I was particularly struck by the words of Masha from Irkutsk, when she told about the Russian word ABOCb, pronounced avoss, which is roughly equivalent to saying “what the hell, I know something bad might happen but I'm just hoping it will be ok anyway” that is found in their folklore and fairy tales. I wonder just how important the stories we're taught as children are to the lifelong relationship we have with our environment.

Emma with the carriage boss on the Trans-Siberian

The Russia I found was a country of extremes and contradictions. There is a clear deep love of the natural world embedded in the Russian psyche, yet the countryside is liberally strewn with broken vodka bottles. The people I spoke to, although concerned themselves about environmental issues, held little hope for their fellow Russians. Despite the pessimistic attitude for which they are justifiably famous, there is also a sense of possibility, that things can change quickly, in this vast country with an ideological scale to match. 56% of Russians think there government should take stronger action on climate change. Russia seems, at last, to be waking up fast to the realities of climate change and their strong leaders, for better or worse, can implement change at a lightning pace.

Vidana, irkutsk: what does climate change mean to you?

Masha, Irkutsk: what does climate change mean to you?

Masha of Irkutsk

I like Irkutsk right away. It may be the crisper, colder air that gives the city a light feel about it. I am also pleased by the energy efficient light bulbs in the cafe we go to for breakfast but less impressed with the food which remains dominated by meat dumplings.

Masha is twenty three and works at the relaxed and friendly Baikaler hostel. We are shocked to find ourselves thrown into traveller culture for the first time on our trip. I find myself drawn more to talking to our host rather than to other travellers though, and not just for Climate Stories purposes.

Masha & friend Seema enjoying a relaxing Vodka

Masha is the first person I've met who strongly states that climate change is a big problem for Russia. She laments the lack of even basic recycling in her country, or even an awareness that such a thing is possible amongst Russians.

She believes the government must take responsibility for tackling the problem, which is looking much more hopeful these days. She agrees sadly with the Russian saying that you get the government you deserve though and doesn't have much hope they will do enough.

She doesn't think that Russian people are aware enough of climate change. She tells me that things will only change in Russia because that is the way the rest of the world is going, she thinks the nation follows, rather than leads with such matters.

Will & Emma enjoying the view of the beautiful and vulnerable Lake Baikal

The Russian word ABOCb, pronounced avoss, which is roughly equivalent to saying “what the hell, I know something bad might happen but I'm just hoping it will be ok anyway”. She tell me this way of looking at the world is thoroughly embedded in Russian culture, so much that it's a common part of the folklore and fairy tales.

Masha claims to be a realist but talks more like an optimist. She says she expects the worst but hopes for the best. It's difficult to argue with her.