A miracle must happen

Day: 406

Sunrise:
06:23

Sunset:
19:46

As the crow flies:
14,63

Daily kilometers:
21

Total kilometers:
2468

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
23 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
18 °C

Temperature – Night:
minus 5 °C

Latitude:
48°55’433”

Longitude:
103°39’440”

Maximum height:
1600 m above sea level

Time of departure:
13:00

Arrival time:
16:20

This morning too, condensation drips from the tent canopy and wakes us up unpleasantly. I immediately slip out of my sleeping bag and dry the canvas with a towel. As soon as we have eaten some of the cookies, a harvester on his moped drives up to us on the pass. As is customary in this country, he doesn’t greet us, sits down in front of our tent and stares at us incessantly. His colleagues from last night apparently told him about our presence. Since foreigners are extremely rare in the Mongolian wilderness, this is certainly a reason to make the effort to drive up the mountain. “This is how animals must feel at the zoo,” I realize. When we have finished loading the luggage, the man swings onto his bike and rattles back down into the valley without saying goodbye. The men from the evening arrive just a few minutes later. You, on the other hand, help us with loading without further ado. Since Tanja and I have been on our own most of the time, lifting the equipment onto the horses ourselves, our backs and elbows are now aching. I hope my back holds out for the remaining days without punishing me for the incessant overstraining.

We say goodbye to the helpers and follow a fantastically beautiful path into the valley. I aim for the Bilgee camp with the GPS. “If we ride over the mountain ridge in front of us as the crow flies, we’ll save at least 15 kilometers,” I think aloud. “Looks steep. Do you think we can get over it?” Tanja is unsure. “Definitely. We might even discover a path. I can imagine that the locals take shortcuts over the mountains to avoid having to take long detours through the valleys and around the mountain ranges.”

“Can you see that bright green ribbon between the trees?” I ask Tanja half an hour later. “Yes.” “That’s certainly a path. Let’s head for it,” I say and we trot on. We are delighted when the different green coloration actually turns out to be a path. We slowly follow the steep trail to the summit. The colorful flower meadow around us is up to one meter high and extremely lush. Our horses can’t get enough of it and enjoy nature’s first-class cuisine all the time. “This beautiful mountain path and the blue sky is a farewell gift to us!” I shout in high spirits. “Yes, Mother Earth knows what we like!” Tanja replies with a laugh. The slightly yellowing needles of the larches herald a magnificent autumn coloration. At the top of the summit, the view of the valleys is breathtaking. We pause for a few minutes and enjoy the distant view over the mountain landscape. After we have had our fill, we steer our steeds back down into the valley on the other side of the ridge. “Only five more kilometers as the crow flies and we’ve reached the Bilgee camp,” I say. “It’s quicker than I thought.” “Yes, the shortcut over the mountain range is perfect. We were lucky to have found this path. Didn’t think we’d find such a dense mountain forest on this side. The path takes us right through it.”

At 4:20 p.m. we pull up our horses at the exact spot where we set off a year and a day ago. “That’s exactly what we should call the camp now,” says Tanja. “A year and a day of camp?” “Yes.” “Right, sounds like the title of a book,” I reply, getting out of the saddle.

When our tent is set up and tidied away, Tanja hobbles up a nearby mountain. Up there, as we remember from last year, you can log into the cell phone network. “I’ll inform Bilgee of our arrival at his former yurt site!” she calls to me. An hour later, Tanja is back at the camp, beaming with joy. “So, what did he say?” “He congratulated us on our lucky arrival and was very pleased that we made it without a Mongolian escort. He told us not to ride on tomorrow but to wait for him here. He will be here this evening.” “Why shouldn’t we move on? It’s still about 40 kilometers from here to Erdenet, isn’t it?” “It’s a brilliant place to sell the horses. He’ll help us find good owners, he promised.” “Sounds almost too good to be true,” I reply, not believing Bilgee’s words until he’s actually there and we’ve really got our horses to new owners. Before that, it’s all just talk for me. We had a fantastic time with Bilgee and he was the only really capable companion we had but I can’t forget how he left us early and got us into trouble. These and other events shook the foundations of his credibility.

I’m sitting on my old and well-traveled camp chair again, typing these lines. It is pitch dark and bitterly cold outside. Even in the tent, my fingers are almost freezing again at minus 5 °C. “Man, I’m sick of these sub-zero temperatures. It’s only been hot for a few weeks and now this fucking cold is creeping up our limbs again,” I curse quietly to myself. Tanja lies in her sleeping bag. Their breath condenses in white clouds and floats to the tent ceiling. “He didn’t come,” she says sadly. “No, he’s broken his word again,” I reply. “Too bad.” “No problem, we can manage the horse sale without Bilgee. Tomorrow we’ll ride 20 or 30 kilometers further, find a nice yurt family maybe 10 kilometers from Erdenet and offer our horses to everyone there. We’ll find a buyer,” I try to sound confident. “I don’t want our boys to go to the butcher.” “They won’t either. In this country in particular, we depend on good riding horses. And our horses have developed into top riding horses. Any horse connoisseur can see that immediately. Nobody takes animals like that to the slaughterhouse. The Mongolians aren’t crazy,” I say. “You’re probably right.” “Not probably. I’m undoubtedly right,” I say, but in my heart I’m not really sure where to put our loyal comrades. “I’ll be glad when we’ve reached our destination. Although, I could also imagine that this place means the end of the horse journey,” Tanja muses quietly. “Maybe Bilgee was just indisposed? Maybe you misunderstood him and he didn’t want to come until tomorrow? Could be, right?” I ask. “Could be.” “In that case, you should go back up the mountain tomorrow and try to reach him.” “I will,” she replies, yawning.

I don’t slip into my sleeping bag until 11 p.m., completely frozen out. It takes a long time for my feet and hands to warm up. I think about what a gigantic stroke of bad luck Tanja had with her ankle. It is not clear whether the ligaments are broken, but the foot is not splintered or broken. She has finally made it this far. “Very good,” I say quietly to myself. Then I fall into another restless sleep. If we can really sell our horses to shepherds here in this valley, a miracle will have to happen. “Dear God, please let this miracle happen, please, please.”

We look forward to your comments!