Arrival in the country of wolves

Surrounded by a curious horse herd we pack our camp on the backs of our animals. It is 12:50 o’clock as we rise in the saddles. This time I make the cold temperatures for our late departure responsible. With stiff limbs work is much more difficult and simply slow. It feels possibly thus as if the lubricating oil was absent in the joints.

At Khuvsgul Nuur one of the most nicely situated lakes of the earth

We reach the pretty log cabin village of Khatgal lying in the south of Khuvsgul Nuur. We discover a sign about the door of a log cabin. Supermarket is written on it. “There we can stock up with new food!”, shouts Tanja. At a long fence we tie our horses during Tanja is going to look for the Guest house of the village.
We had agreed by telephone that Saraa sends us a winterdeel (traditional Mongolian winter coat) for Bilgee. Tanja should fetch the deel in the Guest house and deliver the money for it there.
“Take a rest. Soon I am back again”, she says with a wink smiling to me. “Hope the coat is there”, I whisper. Bilgee talks meanwhile to a man. He passes one of his cigarettes to him and is asking for the way. I use the time to have a look at the supermarket from inside. I am surprised to find here biscuits, bread, canned fish and chocolate. When I leave the store Tanja meets me with a wide grin. She passes a heavy bundle to me and says; “give it to him. I am curious whether he is glad.” “Saraa made it really happening to let bring the coat within two days here”, I answer and I am not surprised for the first time what in this country is possible. I take the bundle and go to our horseman „Here Bilgee. This is a present of Tanja and me. From now on “Baihgui hujten”. Bilgee looks at me with amazed eyes, takes the thick present wrapped up in a cloth to unpack it immediately. „Oh this is really fantastic. “Tschin setgeleesee bajrlalaa. Baihgui hujten”, (“many thanks. No more coldly”) he laughs and shakes thanking several times Tanja and me the hand.

Before we leave Khatgal we sit before the supermarket in the dried grass, to drink tea and eat fish, bread and chocolate. Then we pack Bilgees winterdeel into one of the sea bags and get on the horses. We follow a narrow paths going up a hill to the Khoridol Saridag mountain range. The up to 3,000-m-high mountain range stretches along the west side of the lake. From here on top we look down at the old settlement. Then we enter an enormous larch forest which belongs to the 70,000 square kilometer of extensive Khuvsgul Nuur-national park. Millions of brown small needles lie centimeter thick on the forest ground and swallow the sound of our horse steps. As if we had wrapped them cloth around the hoofs, we move silently by the fairy tale wood. Reaching the top I say exited “Welcome to the taiga”, we catch the first sight on the 2,760 square kilometer, 135-km-long and 39.5-km-wide Khuvsgul Nuur. One of the most nicely situated lakes of our mother earth. Here we feel anyhow reminded to lake Baikal which is with his 1,620 m the deepest freshwater lake of the world. When we went by our bicycles from Germany till Mongolia we have given the Baikal lake a longer visit. Undoubtedly the similarity of the scenery of both lakes is not to be denied. The Khuvsgul is in the same geologic-tectonic system. If one draws a line of the Baikal up to the Khuvsgul lake they are removed just 200 km from each other. The Tunga ditch located on the Russian side connects both waters geographically. This is also the reason why some people call the Khuvsgul lake also the small Baikal. Cheerfully having reached the lake, and to tell the truth, also a little bit proudly on us, we ride along the west shore. Later we sit by the warming fire. From now on we will have no lack of fire wood, because we are in the biggest coherent coniferous forest area of our earth, the taiga. “Here begins the country of the wolves. I am really curious whether we see one or hear one howling”, I say slurping my tea. “You mean they come till our camp?”, asks Tanja. “Humph, can be. Mogi will announce them. Do not hope that our horses are endangered”. I answer in the licking flames sighted.