Broken taboos, wolves and how to ride a reindeer

Day: 166-167

Sunrise:
09:27/09:27

Sunset:
17:29/17:30

Total kilometers:
1281

Soil condition:
Ice, snow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
minus 17°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
minus 25°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 30°C

Latitude:
51°33’336”

Longitude:
099°15’341”

Maximum height:
1981 m above sea level

The tranquillity in the taiga is indescribably beautiful. When I walk into the forest in the morning, I stop and listen. Nothing can be heard. Not a breath of wind moves the many larch trees. Everything seems frozen in the clear, cold air. The bright rays of sunlight are reflected by the snow. Countless reindeer tracks can be seen in it. Like every morning, they tied the Tuwa from their trees and drove them into the forest. This allows them to roam freely during the day and fill their bellies with their favorite food, reindeer lichen. I have to squint my eyes to look up at the azure sky. If I listen closely, I can hear a slight but clear hissing noise. It is nothing other than my own blood that my heart pumps through my body. At least I think that’s the case, because this barely perceptible noise can definitely be heard inside my body and not outside. Absolute silence. Not even the elongated clouds that are formed at high altitudes by condensed water vapor from the exhaust gases of aircraft engines can be detected, which is why we are not exposed to the ever-increasing noise of air traffic worldwide. I stand there, enjoying the cold, the clarity, the purity and the flawlessness of a nature that has hardly been affected by humans and which is only accessible to a European with great effort. Suddenly, a swift movement among the branches snaps me out of my inner calm. I turn my head to follow the scurrying with my gaze. Nothing. Everything is quiet and frozen. I breathe calmly and fix my gaze on the dense branches. There it is again. A black stripe. When I recognize the crow that now settles on another larch tree with a loud caw, I have to smile and make my way back to the yurt.

I use the morning to repair a broken solar panel that Ultsan lent me. I quickly discover a loose connection in a cable. I create a clean connection with my gas soldering iron and place the additional solar panel on our yurt wall. As we now have four batteries with our energy box but only three solar panels, the loan from Ultsan comes in very handy. The many experiences I write down every day, the updating of our website and faceboo and Tanja’s translation work of our texts into English require a lot of energy. Due to the short and low position of the sun, any additional solar panel is fine with us. Especially when the sun remains hidden behind thick snow clouds for days on end.

“Looks good,” I say happily, checking the incoming voltage of the new panel with my little measuring device. Now I connect it to a charge controller that I bought half a year ago in Ulan Bator as a replacement.

Mogi breaks a taboo

Mogi watches me work attentively. Since we let him into the yurt for a short time now and then, he now lies on the floor and curiously observes every movement. “You look bad,” I say, examining his nose, which is swollen beyond recognition from a dog bite on the day he left Tsagaan Nuur for the Tuwa camp. “He looks like Alf,” says Tanja. “Alf?” I ask. “Well, you know that comic character from the States, don’t you?” “Oh, you mean the Alf who likes to eat cats and would love to toast them between two slices of white bread?” “That’s exactly who I mean.” “That’s right, he’s got such a big nose too,” I confirm, laughing heartily. “You’re a bad rascal,” I say, stroking him. Suddenly the yurt door opens. The shaman Saintsetseg comes to visit for coffee. Mogi seizes the opportunity and slips outside. The reindeer are promptly driven into the camp at this point. Tanja and I jump up as if stung by a tarantula and race after Mogi. If he were to bite one of the reindeer, he would get our stay here into big trouble. Pursued by the many hunting dogs
Mogi like a jet through the Tuwa camp. With a short stream of urine, he immediately takes possession of tipi six, seven and the two log cabins. The pack of dogs doesn’t like this at all. Some of them suddenly start to counter-mark, only to resume their pursuit of the intruder moments later. To our relief, Mogi leaves the reindeer behind and continues his exploration of the camp. The arrogant, possessive nature of the stranger obviously goes too far for his fellow dogs and they attack him in a flash. Mogi, who gained a lot of experience in Tsagaan Nuur’s alley fight, defends himself and bites back with loud barking and yowling. The shreds really fly. Armed with a stick, Tsaya rushes to Mogi’s aid. My stick is also ready to hit the ball to save our dog. However, I don’t dare catch one of the landlords with it. Who knows how the people here will react? Tsaya’s wood drives a few times into the quarrelling hides, whereupon the dogs separate briefly. Mogi’s nose is bleeding again, but he doesn’t seem to mind and continues to check out the area. It doesn’t take long and Mogi is back on his chain. What a shame. Now we are in the middle of the wilderness and yet Mogi is not allowed to roam free.

Later, the dogs get used to each other. Mogi has fought his way up as their boss and he remains untouched. We are happy about the freedom he has gained and let him off the chain from time to time. Unfortunately, he pisses unabashedly on Monkoo’s snowbag, which she has left just outside Tsaya’s log cabin to fetch something. Now Mogi has a real problem. The Tuwa women complain that Mogi pees against the piles of wood. As hearth fires are sacred in Mongolia, he is breaking a taboo. The dogs of the taiga are trained from an early age not to urinate against wood supplies. To be honest, in a forest full of wood, I have no idea how we can stop Mogi from marking woodpiles. It’s enough to make you tear your hair out. As a city dweller, he never learned not to hunt and bite sheep and goats. As a result, he had to constantly walk on a leash next to the horses and spent his free time on a chain in the respective camps. At Ayush he got into a fight with the landlord Jack, lost his eye by a hair’s breadth and when the two got on reasonably well we moved to the Tuwa. Yes, and everything is clear here. He even leaves reindeer alone. We would never have imagined that pissing on woodpiles would be a taboo and that he would be condemned to be a chain dog again.

Flu epidemic

Since the New Year, more and more residents of the camp have been suffering from a severe cold. Tsaya is even in bed for two days. She has a terrible cough and a fever. Her immune system is in the doldrums because of her terrible stillbirth a few months ago, probably the reason why she is particularly badly affected. Baby Undraamaa is hit the hardest by the virus. The parents Saina and Hadaa are worried, so they report an emergency to the hospital in Tsagaan Nuur. Fortunately, a Russian ambulance jeep arrives immediately to pick up the little girl. Days later, we learn of a nationwide flu epidemic and that the hospital in Tsagan Nuur is completely overcrowded and has run out of vaccine. Tsaya talks about Ultsan’s father who died here in the camp only a year ago because no help came. “We think he had a heart attack. We immediately called the hospital in Tsagaan Nuur but they couldn’t send an ambulance. So we had to watch him die. So it’s a blessing that the ambulance came today to take Undraamaa to hospital,” we hear and hope we never have to experience an emergency out here ourselves.

Tanja and I are also suffering from the worst cold in years. At home, you can lie in bed and cure an illness. In the wilderness, however, the wood chopping, snow fetching, fire making, cooking etc. continues. Nature knows no mercy in this case. The only thing we can do is to take things even slower than before.

Wolves

At dusk, a shot shatters the silence. All the Tuwa run out of their tipis. “What’s going on?” asks Tanja in the commotion. Ovogdorj comes running and reports a wolf sneaking around his reindeer. He shot at him and missed. When you consider that a cartridge costs 2,500 Tugrik (€1.43), i.e. half a day’s wages, that’s an expensive side-shot.

Suddenly, several reindeer come running into the camp. The men immediately saddle up some mounts and leave the camp. “The wolves are prowling around today. Our reindeer have sought protection from them and have therefore come to the camp. The men are now riding into the taiga. They hope to keep the predators away from our reindeer,” explains Tsaya.

It is already pitch dark when the men return. “Have you seen any wolves?” I ask Ultsan. “Ügüj” (“No”), he replies. “We hardly ever get to see wolves. They are too intelligent. If they attack our reindeer, it’s usually only at night,” he explains. “I’m surprised they catch reindeer at all. They’re really fast, aren’t they?” I ask. “True, they are faster and have more stamina than wolves, but unfortunately they are not particularly intelligent. They flee for a while and then stop to eat. They quickly forget their mortal enemy. Perhaps they also don’t recognize the difference between wolves and our dogs, which lie peacefully next to them and don’t care about reindeer? The clever wolves know this perfectly well, of course, and wait for a suitable opportunity. It even happens that a pack of wolves snatches a reindeer and while they eat it, their colleagues stand by and watch or eat their reindeer lichen,” he explains.

The reindeer riding challenge

As our two neighbors are sitting in our yurt again in the evening, drinking their coffee and eating chocolate or cookies, Tanja’s cell phone rings. It’s Bilgee. We learn that his injury, which he sustained weeks ago with his chainsaw, is worse than originally thought and hope that it will not prevent him from continuing his horse journey with us in early summer.

“I’m going hunting for a long time soon,” says Ultsan after the phone call. “With reindeer?” I ask. “But yes, we always ride our reindeer to hunt,” he replies. “Ask him to take you with him,” says Tanja, seeing my shining eyes. “How heavy are you?” asks Ultsan. “I shouldn’t have a gram of fat on my ribs at the moment. I think I’m around 77 kilograms,” I reply. “That’s quite difficult for a reindeer on a longer route,” he says with a friendly laugh. “But it’s not the weight alone, it’s your height. If you were sitting on a reindeer, your feet would probably drag on the ground. Riding a reindeer cannot be compared to riding a horse and is a real challenge for the inexperienced. You hardly move at all when riding, instead balancing your body. The bigger you are, the more difficult it is. Apart from that, the rider freezes very quickly on the back of the animals because you can’t move like on a horse. Frostbite is therefore a problem. Then there are the reindeer’s sensitive back wheels. If you ride them incorrectly, they can break or injure themselves. Then there is the speed and maneuverability of a hunting party. We ride with our animals over steep passes, past precipices. We pass between rocks and forests. We are agile and skillful. We have to cover such great distances on the hunt. Each of us has to rely on ourselves, although of course we always stay in the group. But we all have the same level of experience,” Ultsan explains, making me realize that I would be more of a burden than an asset to the hunters.

Premature loss of sea power due to cheap glasses

“Hm, I see. I think hunting is particularly difficult in winter. Will it be easier for you in spring?” I want to know. “But yes. However, every season has its own challenges. In spring, the bears wake up from their hibernation. They are always a bit of a threat at this time of year. But it’s not just the bears but also the sun that gets to us,” says Ultsan. “The sun?” “Yes. Its rays are particularly strong in spring. It burns our skin. Mainly when they reflect off the snow. The biggest problem is our eyes. We protect them with cheap Chinese sunglasses, but I have the feeling that they damage our eyes even more than before. My father used to protect himself from snow blindness by putting the bottom of beer bottles on his eyes.” “You mean the men used to put the bottoms of bottles over their eyes?” I say in amazement. “Yes.” “But then you hardly saw anything?” “That’s right. But it was enough for riding. When they shot at game, they had to take off their makeshift goggles.” “I see. I can also see why the cheap glasses don’t protect you. They only give you the illusion of important UV protection. That’s extremely dangerous because this cheap stuff lets all the dangerous radiation through. They don’t offer the slightest protection. In fact, it would be better not to wear them. Then you would squint your eyes. That way, fewer UV rays would reach your pupils than with dark glasses that let everything through,’ I try to explain. “Could be. When we come back from a long hunting trip, almost everyone has sore eyes. Tso has to wear glasses with nine diopters to see anything.” “Nine diopters? So he’s almost blind? How can he still go hunting?” I ask, startled. “He manages somehow. He knows his rifle and knows how to point it to hit the prey. His problem, however, is that he doesn’t have the right glasses. He takes whatever he can get from somewhere,” explains Ultsan. “Well, that certainly won’t improve his eyesight. Do you think he’s lost his sea power due to frequent snow blindness?” “Who knows. It’s possible. From the age of thirty, almost all Tuwa have problems with their eyes.” “Oh man, you really need proper glasses. That crap you’re putting on your eyes can’t be good. That certainly wouldn’t happen with good glasses,” I think aloud. “Hm, maybe so. But we can’t afford better glasses. We don’t have the money for that,” he replies thoughtfully.

“What do you actually use to light your fire in the morning?” he then changes the subject. “Our entire food supply is packed in boxes. As soon as we’ve used one up, I tear it up into small pieces, put them in the oven and sprinkle bark and small twigs over them that are left over from the wood hook,” I reply. “Come on, I’ll show you which branches of the trees are particularly good for kindling. In case you run out of kindling,” he offers. “Tanja and I will gladly follow him into the night and the forest.

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