Diary update causes difficulties

The final preparations for our departure tomorrow are underway. Jenya is visibly sad. “Please stay a little longer,” he asks lovingly. “We would very much like to stay but it’s really time to start the journey. Although the distance to Mongolia is only just under 3,000 kilometers, there are a thousand kilometers of South Siberian mountains ahead of us. We don’t yet know if and how we will manage this with our luggage. What’s more, our visa only allows us to stay in Russia for three months. So that’s another reason to set off,” I explain. “Oh what the heck, we’ll just drive you in the car,” Jenya says with a laugh. “Exactly. We’ll just have ourselves doubled while we sit here in your parents’ apartment and your dear mom cooks for us,” I joke.

While I’m working on the last notes, I keep looking outside. It’s raining, windy and the thermometer is just 17 degrees. Not nice weather to set off in and somehow I’m dreading it more and more. What is wrong with me? Have I really gone that soft in the last few months? Have I become that comfortable? Can the little bit of bad weather really stop me from setting off? What an effort it is to voluntarily leave your comfort zone again and again to go outside into the inhospitable natural world. Rain, cold, heat, ticks, mosquitoes, maybe brown bears, damp or wet clothes, a damp sleeping bag, constantly crawling around in a crouched position in the tent, typing my daily notes into the laptop in a crouching position in our low fabric dwelling because the insects are eating you up outside, traffic, exertion, overcoming the inner bastard every day, sometimes even every minute. And yet I’ve enjoyed it on every one of our adventure trips so far. Every trip has brought me new insights and I have always been able to say that I wouldn’t want to swap any life on this earth. However, this time the departure is particularly difficult. Or is it just my imagination? Has it always been like this? Do I forget that every time? I should read my old notes.

In the afternoon, I have the events of the last 11 days in the box. I unpack my satellite phone, flip it open and try to get reception from the apartment. Not a chance. I walk from window to window, but the antenna shows no deflection. “I’m going outside,” I call out to Tanja. Jenya doesn’t miss the opportunity to accompany me. He shows me a free space between the high clumps of houses that can prevent reception to a satellite. The Indian Ocean satellite has full deflection, thank goodness. I connect the computer to the satellite phone and press send. Hoping that my text will be on the website straight away, I chew the fat in front of the laptop with Jenya. It only takes a few moments and the transmission is canceled. I try again and again, unfortunately without the slightest success. Then the battery of the laptop and almost at the same time of the Satphone breaks down. “That’s it for now,” I say disappointedly. We pack up the equipment again and go back to Jenya’s apartment. “Will our live coverage not work this time? That would be a real shame. What will our readers think then?” is what goes through my mind.

At midnight, the technology’s batteries are fully charged again. We climb onto the roof of the house again and try our luck. Vladimir joins us, wanting to see how information can be fed directly into a website from anywhere in the world without a power socket. But this time, too, there is no data transfer. “Will it be the satellite?” I suspect and dial my parents’ phone number to test the connection. “It’s ringing,” Jenya says happily. “Katzer?” my mother answers. “Oh, hello mom. I’m calling from the satellite phone. Just testing it. How is Daddy?” “Very well. Everything’s fine with us. How are you?” she asks. After a short conversation, I hang up again. “So the satellite connection is working. Hm?” I ponder. “Maybe the connection cable is faulty?” Jenya suspects. “I don’t think so. The tests in Germany were successful. Do you think it could be the computer? Or maybe even the provider? Yes, that will be it,” I argue, dissatisfied with the situation. Just before I want to give up, I make one last attempt and lo and behold, the computer suddenly logs into the satellite network and the transmission works perfectly. “Hooray! Hooray!” Hooray!” I shout and do a little happy dance on the roof. Vladimir and Jenya are happy with me. We pack everything up again, scramble off the roof, crawl under a wire fence and walk back to the apartment, chatting happily.

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