Back in civilization

Day: 417

Sunrise:
06:39

Sunset:
19:19

As the crow flies:
31,63

Daily kilometers:
41

Total kilometers:
2510

Soil condition:
Asphalt

Temperature – Day (maximum):
21 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
15 °C

Temperature – Night:
minus 3 °C

Latitude:
49°01’138”

Longitude:
104°00’125”

Maximum height:
1312 m above sea level

Time of departure:
21:15

Arrival time:
22:00

In the morning Bor comes galloping back into camp. He immediately joins Naraa, Tuya and Tenger to graze with them. “He likes it here,” laughs Tanja.

We are just packing up when Ilhauchauu appears. Although he is three days late, nobody says a word about it. Without a long preliminary discussion, he unpacks a bundle of money and starts counting. “600,000 Tugrik”, (€364) he says and hands me the bills. “That’s not the agreed amount,” I say. “That’s all I own.” Tanja and I look at each other. “Do you really think we can sell Tenger to Ilhauchauu? Bilgee would love to have him.” “Tanja, Bilgee has no money. He can’t afford Tenger at the moment. Apart from that, we promised Ilhauchauu the horse and sealed our deal with a handshake.” “But he was three days late?” “His brother died. That’s reason enough for a delay.” “That’s true. Still, I have a problem with depriving Bilgee of his former riding horse.” I look at Bilgee questioningly. He avoids my gaze as he cannot speak in front of the shepherd. Ilhauchauu notices our hesitation and pulls another 20,000 tugrik (€12) out of another pocket. I spent the remaining 10,000 tugrik (€6) on petrol,” he says, holding out the wad of money to me again. “Is that okay for you?” I ask Bilgee in English. “Okay,” he replies. A few tears roll down Tanja’s cheeks. “I won’t have Tenger slaughtered,” she tries to reassure Ilhauchauu. “We know,” I say placatingly, whereupon he puts the money on the saucepan in which we are heating water. “No!” shouts Tanja. “Why not?” asks Ilhauchauu. “Because you burn the money on the stove,” she replies, to which Ilhauchauu takes it back in horror. “I’m really not going to kill Tenger. When you’re back here on your bike tour from Mongolia to China, you can see for yourself,” he explains, finally getting our agreement. How should we convey to him that at the moment it is a conflict of conscience not to give Tenger to Bilgee but to him? “You decide Denis,” says Tanja. “Well then, the deal is done. I’ve shaken Ilhauchauu’s hand on it. It would be extremely unfair to him not to sell Tenger,” I decide and take the money. Ilhauchauu, who hadn’t expected how difficult it would suddenly be to acquire Tenger, is visibly relieved and laughs with relief.

After Ilhauchauu has said goodbye, Tanja and Bilgee take Naraa and Tuya to a shepherd who owns over 100 horses not far from our camp. On the same day, Naraa is mounted in front of a stallion. Bilgee wants another foal from her next year. Naraa and Tuya will stay with this family over the winter. “They are doing well there,” he is convinced.

In the afternoon, Bilgee walks up the nearby mountain to phone his cousin who is supposed to pick us up in his jeep today. During this time, a rider visits us and sits down in front of our tent. After I tell him the usual story of where we came from and where we are going, he stays in camp to watch us pack. After a while I run to Bor and Tenger, whose ropes, to which they are pegged, have become tangled. The shepherd gets up and follows me. When I get to the horses, I understand. It is a relative of Ilhauchauu who has not come to watch us but to pick up Tenger and Bor. I untie the animals from the pegs and hand him the guide ropes. As soon as he has tied Bor and Tenger to the neck of his horse, he gallops off.

“He waited 1 ½ hours until you finally gave him the horses?” Tanja wonders. “From the looks of it, yes. Apparently a very polite person who didn’t just take the horses but waited for us to finish our work.” “Unbelievable.” “Indeed. You can stay in this country for so long and still be surprised.”

At 19:30, the sun has been down for some time and there is still no sign of Bilgee’s cousin. “He’ll be here soon. Shouldn’t we take down the tent?” asks Tanja. “We’ll only dismantle when he really comes. Who knows? Maybe he’s changed his mind. Then we’ll sit here in this cold and freeze our asses off,” I reply.

21:00. Two headlights eat their way through the darkness and head towards us. “That’s him!” says Bilgee with relief. Bilgee’s cousin Erdene Ochir and his wife Urtnast greet us cautiously. I immediately take down the tent while the others load our belongings into the jeep. 15 minutes later we leave the one year and a day camp in the direction of Erdenet. “Tomorrow morning, the yurt dwellers on the other side of the stream will wonder where our tent has suddenly disappeared to,” I say. Mogi, who stands on his hind feet between my legs, looks out of the window, panting. The jeep bumps through the dark steppe for about three kilometers until we reach the asphalt strip. Then it’s off towards Erdenet as if on rails. While Tanja and I are silent, Bilgee talks to Erdene Ochir and Urtnast, who is soon talking incessantly. “Goodbye Steppe,” I whisper with a wistful feeling in my chest. After 35 kilometers, the first lights appear. A gas station, a small supermarket, an inconspicuous hotel. Street lighting, cars, trucks, people, garbage, potholes, simple houses. “We’re in civilization,” I say. “And how does that feel for you?” asks Tanja. “Not good. I already miss the peace and quiet, the whisper of the wind, the steppe flowers, the many herds of animals and the sound of our horses plucking the grass from the ground.” “And the cold?” “Oh, I don’t miss it. I look forward to warm nights when the tip of my nose doesn’t feel like an icicle,” I laugh.

At 10 p.m., the jeep leaves the asphalt road and bumps along a potholed dust track. We stop in front of a demolished wooden fence. Erdene Ochir gets out and opens a rickety wooden gate. We drive into one of the usual courtyards enclosed by a wooden fence, in the middle of which is a simple-looking old wooden house. “We’re here,” says Bilgee. We are immediately invited into the hut. A large flat screen TV, a seating area in keeping with the Mongolian zeitgeist and other furnishings adorn the living room. The kitchen, equipped with an advanced oven, microwave and many other technical appliances, is open to the living room. Even if the house cannot be compared with German standards, it almost blows me away. I hadn’t expected such luxury. Erdene Ochir is a foreman in the large copper mine for which the town of Erdenet was founded in 1978. Apparently, he doesn’t earn too badly. “Do you want to wash your hands?” asks Erdene Ochir, pointing to the basin. “Gladly”, we reply. Urtnast fills a bucket of water into the container behind the sink. Although there are one or two luxuries in this home, the water still has to be brought in from a pump house a few hundred meters away.

A little later, we’re sitting at a table talking about the trip while crazy commercials play on the huge flat screen. “Are you hungry?” asks Urtnast. Since we satisfied our hunger in the camp, we say no. We are actually dog-tired from the day’s events, the journey and what has already befallen us in Mongolia’s second largest city. I would have liked to lie down immediately, I would have liked to answer. Meanwhile, I thank them both for picking me up. After I also ask how high the fuel costs are, Erdene Ochir just shakes his head. “It was an honor,” he replies. Thank you very much. “Are you thirsty for beer?” asks Bilgee. “Sure,” Tanja and I reply. I give Bilgee 10,000 Tugrik (€6) and he and his cousin drive to a store to buy five liters of beer. After the first few glasses, the mood becomes more relaxed. Erdene Ochir wants to know a lot about our life’s journey while Urtnast drags a big pile of terribly bad pictures and tells us with much joy and enthusiasm when, where and who celebrated. “This is my husband during the Tsagaan Sar. This is him with his subordinates in the copper mine. Here he was with friends in Thailand. There you see him riding the elephant? There in the middle, he’s with one of his bosses during a company party.” Urtnast is immensely proud of her husband. An hour later, we were smiling our way through the pictures of the seemingly constantly celebrating husband and his family.

“8,000 people currently work in the mine. Incidentally, the copper deposit was discovered by Czech and Russian geologists in the 1950s. Do you know what Erdenet means?” asks Erdene Ochir abruptly. “Er, no,” I reply, trying to sort out all the information in my cloudy brain. “Precious treasure.” “So you’re a treasure to your parents?” I ask, to which we all laugh. “Me for my parents and the mine for the citizens,” he says after a few minutes.

At 1:00 a.m. we are allowed to move into our hosts’ small Buddha room. Urtnast explains to us what the pictures and objects on the Buddha altar mean and wishes us a peaceful night. We sleep in a heated room for the first time in over a year. As I let Tanja rest on the narrow bed, I make myself comfortable on the Ios mat. “It’s nice not to have a cold nose for once,” I say, stretching comfortably.

Dogs bark through the tiny window of the room. It is the worst dog barking we have ever heard in our traveling life, almost comparable to never-ending fireworks. “How are you supposed to sleep with this crazy noise?” I ask. “Just pull the sleeping bag over your ears.” “Much too warm.” “I’m so tired, I don’t mind the barkers.” “You’ve got it good. You’d think every one of the 75,000 inhabitants owned a dog.” “Hm.” “Are you asleep already?” “Hm.” “Unbelievable.”

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