All horses gone

Day: 332-333

Sunrise:
05:05/05:05

Sunset:
21:39/21:40

Total kilometers:
1473

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
29 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
21 °C

Temperature – Night:
8 °C

Latitude:
51°07’441”

Longitude:
099°43’449”

Maximum height:
1628 m above sea level

In the morning we enjoy the presence of our mounts. None of them have been stolen. We remove them from the stakes and lead them to a nearby stream whose banks are bursting with lush grass. As soon as we have released our horses to eat, Regzedmaa invites us to have breakfast in her log cabin. There is boortsog, creamy snacks, fresh bread and salted milk tea. “Did you see how she took the cream from the bowl with her dirty fingers, put it on the plate and then licked her fingers?” I ask Tanja. “Whatever,” she replies, shoving the piece of cream dripping with fat into her mouth.

In the afternoon, Bumbayr and Khurga ride off with their horses. “They have to look for our horses,” explains Ozgondalai. “You don’t know where your horses are?” “We let them run and only catch them when we need them.” “Hope you find them,” I reply, wondering why they’re not afraid of thieves.

“Our horses are gone,” Tanja scares me in the afternoon when she goes to see how they are doing at the streambed. “What? How can that be?” I ask, startled, jumping out of my chair to go searching with Tanja. “I don’t understand it. They were still there an hour ago, eating peacefully,” says Tanja. “Well, they won’t be stolen,” I think. “No shit. They ran off somewhere.” “And why didn’t you peg Naraa?” I ask. Because Sharga, Bor and Tenger would never run away without her, it is important to tie the mare to a long rope with a ground hook. If Naraa runs away, the geldings follow her. “Bilgee only tied Naraa up at night. She was always allowed to run around freely during the day. But all the animals wear horse tethers. So they can’t be far away,” says Tanja.

Because the sun is finally shining again today, we walk in the shade at around 29°C through a valley which narrows more and more at the end. I look attentively at the ground to discover traces. Apart from the hoof prints of sheep and cattle, I can’t make out anything. While Tanja walks on the left side of the valley and I follow the stream bed on the right, we are unlikely to miss the horses. With my binoculars, I keep scanning the nearby mountain slopes covered in grass and trees. Suddenly a movement. Concentrating, I fix my binoculars and actually spot some horses. To my disappointment, however, they are animals from a different herd. “Have our horses been driven off by a stallion?” a thought startles me. After just under an hour, Tanja and I consider how to proceed. “They didn’t go in that direction,” I guess, and we turn back. When we get close to the Baishin, we discover our horses all tied to large horse stakes. Ozgondalai runs towards us. “I found them under the trees not far from our hut. Your horses have retreated there from all the horseflies in the shade,” she explains. We are relieved. “I didn’t think I’d lost them either,” says Tanja.

“So, did Bumbayr and Khurgaa find your horses again?” I ask in the evening. “Ügüj. You have to go back tomorrow to look for her,” replies Ozgondalai. “Tomorrow? That’s when we actually wanted to leave,” Tanja replies. “Can’t you stay another day?” she asks us. After a moment’s consideration, we decide to stay a day longer in this peaceful place with this lovely family. “There’s no point in setting off if they’re missing their horses. They need the two mounts that are here at the moment to bring in their sheep and cattle. They certainly won’t be able to spare them for the journey,” suspects Tanja. “I’m glad about the extended break. I have a lot of writing to do and the break is perfect for Bor’s pressure point,” I say.

In the evening Khurgaa opens the zipper of our tent. As is customary in Mongolia, he enters without asking. Then he looks in each of our duffel bags, almost looking at various items of equipment, discovers a bag of cookies, reaches in, takes one out and puts it in his mouth. I look at him, stunned. If I hadn’t been speechless, I would have asked what that was all about. Khurgaa grins at me, chewing, turns around and leaves the tent without comment. “And these are the people we want to spend the next few weeks with? I hope I haven’t jumped from the frying pan into the fire,” I think to myself.

The next day, our boys still can’t find their 12 horses. Although the momentary loss amounts to a fortune, none of those present are deeply saddened. “We’ll find them later,” they say relatively calmly. “We have to leave tomorrow because we want to reach the Naadam festival in Mörön on July 10,” I explain. If Khurgaa and Bumbayr don’t come with us, we can understand that. We can manage on our own,” I explain to Ozgondalai. “No, no, they’re not staying here. They will definitely go with you tomorrow,” she replies with a friendly laugh. Now that we are sure of our companions, Tanja, Regzedmaa and Ozgondalai spend the rest of the day baking and frying three loaves of bread and a total of around 500 boortsog. This should ensure that our new crew is well fed.

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