The Journey There
We are a team of 20, including photographer Shelly Heilweil (who is also Horner’s girlfriend), three Montana State University (MSU) graduate students, five Mongolian graduate students, a cook, and three drivers (who sub as mechanics). Also joining the party are two of Mongolia’s top scientists—Bolortsetseg Minjin, Bolor for short, the country’s leading paleontologist, and her father, Bodonguud Chuluun Minjin, Mongolia’s most respected geologist. In fact, our whole expedition is a joint effort of the Minjins and the funder, Nathan Myhrvold. They are all trying to encourage the study of paleontology in Mongolia. “There’s plenty of dinosaurs here and a new generation of young paleontologists that need our support,” Myhrvold says. Horner agrees. “One of my goals is to encourage young paleontologists here to run their own expeditions.”
Our convoy rolls along in three Russian vans and an army vehicle carrying enough water, food, and gasoline for three weeks, along with paleontology tools and other equipment. Driving for 15 hours down a bumpy Mongolian road with a pack of paleontologists is a rattling experience, both physically and intellectually. The conversation jumps from creationism to Horner’s recent celebration of Darwin’s birthday (he served finch fries and mock lizards—chicken wings dyed green) to last year’s harrowing expedition (a sandstorm blew down the tents and flattened the kitchen, and that was before the snow moved in). Used to working in extreme conditions, including intense heat, piercing sunlight, rattlesnakes, and no bathrooms, this is the proverbial tough crowd. They don’t flinch at the idea that we will not shower for weeks or that we are 20 people crammed into three vehicles for days until we reach the Gobi Desert. They talk about the last journalist who went on a dig with them. She didn’t last a day.
Horner is the Tom Sawyer of paleontology: He gets people excited about dinosaurs, and then he recruits them to come and work (free!) at his digs. His enthusiasm for paleontology is contagious. He is a professor and curator of paleontology at the MSU Museum of the Rockies and an author, he was a technical adviser on the three Jurassic Park movies, and he won a MacArthur genius award for his work on dinosaur behavior. George Lucas comes to Montana every year. Producers Frank and Kathy Marshall come regularly. (They recently donated a movie-set trailer/bathroom to one of the dig sites.) Dorothy Hamill comes. (“She works hard,” Horner says.) Amy Tan comes with her dogs and cleaning supplies and once spent hours cleaning the bathroom trailer before she would use it. Peter Fonda comes. Herschel Walker and Naomi Judd keep threatening to come.
Each summer, Horner runs seven expeditions at a time around eastern Montana, but he’s most passionate about what he can do in Mongolia. “My purpose is to excavate for Mongolia and get them going,” he says.
We are going to the Gobi badlands, one of the most uninhabitable parts of Mongolia. Our three-day drive goes surprisingly quickly, and we all learn a lot on the ride. Well . . . I learn a lot on the ride. Mongolia has one of the best preserved Mesozoic ecosystems, and the geology here—primarily the shifting sands of the Gobi Desert—means you can find fossils in almost exactly the same position that they were buried in.
We endlessly discuss why Mongolian roads are so bad and break up the hours in the van with ritual junk-food breaks. All the paleos in our van are junk-food addicts; they live on Fanta soda, Pringles, dinosaur fruit snacks, and gummy worms. Horner sits by the window wearing his signature cowboy hat, with a long red gummy worm hanging from his mouth. Beyond the worm and out the window, the land seems to extend forever, sort of like looking at the ocean, except it’s land.
