The reliability of constant change

Day: 52

Sunrise:
06:46

Sunset:
19:29

As the crow flies:
18,65

Daily kilometers:
23

Total kilometers:
639

Soil condition:
Meadow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
14°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
8°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 5°

Latitude:
49°02’338”

Longitude:
101°51’927”

Maximum height:
1423 m above sea level

Time of departure:
12:00

Arrival time:
17:00

It’s still minus 4 degrees outside. Our two men are already quite busy. They dismantle the shelter that Bilgee and Ulzii had erected as a wind barrier and carry the wooden walls back to the abandoned yurt camp. Then we eat our breakfast. A large herd of camels passes by a few hundred meters from our camp. One of the shepherds comes to visit us. “Sajn bajna uu”, he greets us (good day) “Saa sajn bajna uu”, (good day too) we reply. The nomad sits down cross-legged by our fire and tells us that he and his herd are on their way to Ulan Bator. As custom and hospitality demand, Bilgee offers him yesterday’s tea and rice. The stranger gratefully accepts the hot cup of tea and eats. We learn that he spends the icy nights outdoors with his comrade. “Without a tent?” I ask, puzzled. I get a cheerful laugh in response. After ten minutes, the man jumps up without comment, mounts his horse and rides off after his herd of camels. We are no longer surprised at the way he walks. It is not necessarily customary for nomads to say goodbye. As a rule, the men simply ride off after a while.

After a hearty meal, we pack up our camp. Ulzii cheerfully helps me pack the horse-drawn carriage without being asked. Since the conversation with Tanja, he has changed and, like Bilgee, is in a good mood. At 12:00 noon we leave the campsite as we found it. Apart from the stone circle of fire, nothing bears witness to the former presence of humans. Nothing betrays the camp of a small group of travelers still moving around in the industrial age as in Genghis Khan’s time. As every day, the landscape is breathtakingly beautiful. The mountains around us are covered in snow. In the valleys and on our route, the icy anticipation of winter has retreated for the time being.

We follow the green banks of the salty Sharga Nuur (Yellow Lake). Dark snow clouds drift over our heads and occasionally let snowflakes trickle onto the dry-looking landscape. We put on our winter gloves to protect ourselves from the icy wind. Despite long johns and three pairs of socks, my knees and feet are freezing cold. We urgently need a Del. It’s not for nothing that almost all Mongolians out here are dressed in the long winter coat.

Every now and then I stay behind, get out of the saddle, hobble Sar and take a few photos of the beautifully situated Sharga Nuur. A motorcyclist comes towards me and stops next to me. The man gets off his buck. “Sajn bajna uu”, (Good day) he greets. “Saa sajn bajna uu”, (Good afternoon too), I reply in a friendly manner. Without further ado, the man steps up to my horse, takes the reins from my hand and tightens my saddle straps. Then he laughs heartily, says something I don’t understand, gets on his motorcycle and rides off with a happy expression on his face. We have read in many a travel guide about the extraordinary hospitality and kindness of these people. In Erdenet, on the other hand, we were often ripped off. Apparently the one has nothing to do with the other. In fact, we are meeting more and more very nice and, above all, helpful people out here. Mongolia seems like a game of yoyo to me. We constantly and unexpectedly experience events that we did not expect. No two days are the same. You can’t rely on anything except constant change. Once you get used to this wonder, this country becomes a loyal friend, an unforgettable memory. It forces us to go deep into the earth. Nothing happens on the surface here. The country is a special country, unlike any we have traveled to so far. We become more relaxed with each passing day. Let us become one with a mystery that shows us its hiddenness more and more.

At 17:00 we find a suitable camp for the night at a small stream, as we do every day. As soon as Sharga is unhitched and our horses unsaddled, we set off to search the vast grassy landscape for the remains of wood from the yurt camps that have been moved away. So far there hasn’t been a day when we haven’t found enough firewood for ourselves. The problem with the broken stove has therefore also disappeared. Apart from that, it is decidedly more effective to prepare food with wood than with gas or gasoline. The high heat means that the water boils much faster and the flames also warm us up.

While Tanja prepares a vegetarian meal, Bilgee cooks the dried meat from our goat. Since I know that I react to goat meat with diarrhea, I no longer eat a bite of it. Bilgee shot a marmot in the morning which Ulzii is currently gutting. “That will give you strength,” says Bilgee kindly. Because I don’t want to be a spoilsport and I’m also curious about what a marmot tastes like, I promised the two of them a taste.

“Ulzii, come on, dinner’s ready!” Bilgee calls to his companion. Ulzii is busy pulling the fur over the poor marmot’s ears. He leaves his work and sits down by the fire with Bilgee. They enjoy eating boiled noodles with potatoes, onions and goat meat. If I didn’t know the fatal consequences, I’d go for it. But I watch hungry as a wolf and wait until Ulzii resumes his work. Tanja has already fled into the tent to escape the cold while I’m still sitting there waiting for my marmot. Thought Bilgee would make a delicious meal tonight. To my surprise, however, he threw all the unappetizing-looking meat into a pot of water to boil it. Interested, I lift the lid to see what awaits me. When I see the little head, the eyes, the broken back wheel and the four little legs, I am hardly hungry any more.

It is already pitch dark when the meat brew is ready. Bilgee puts the pot down for me and asks me to eat something from it. I give him a pained smile and take one of the four legs. He looks at me expectantly. “It’s not fat”, he says carefully because he knows that I don’t like fat. The leg is indeed not fat, but it is quite tough. “It tastes interesting, almost like chicken,” I say and as my hunger is immense I eat another leg. “You can have everything,” says Bilgee politely. “No thanks. I’ll leave you some more for breakfast. Apart from that, Mogi needs some meat too. Otherwise he’ll become a vegetarian on the trip,” I decline with thanks. After Bilgee and Ulzii have retired to the tent, I grab a packet of freeze-dried ready-to-eat food to calm my growling stomach a little. Then I put everything together, set up the sleeping area for Mogi and slip into the tent, freezing.

After I’ve warmed up in our expedition sleeping bag, I get ready to record my daily notes. Unfortunately, this is no longer as easy as it was at the beginning of the trip. Before I can start, I have to put the ice-cold laptop between my legs to bring it up to operating temperature. Depending on the cold, this can take up to 30 minutes. I put my little hot water bottle on top so that I don’t get completely chilled and freeze my testicles. Unfortunately it lost its warming power after the warm-up job but at least I can write without getting a problem with the hard disk again. I know I’m repeating myself because of the cold and the difficulty of writing, but the damn cold is repeating itself.

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