Bilgee’s arrival – Half starved

Day: 246

Sunrise:
07:10

Sunset:
19:45

Total kilometers:
1311

Soil condition:
Ice, snow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
6°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
0°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 15°C

Latitude:
51°21’781”

Longitude:
099°21’056”

Maximum height:
1554 m above sea level

“Will you help me with the shopping?” asks Tanja. “Sure, I won’t leave you to carry supplies for the next two months on your own,” I reply cheerfully. Then we leave our log cabin to walk across the plain of Tsagaan Nuur. Because the village is only about 1,500 meters above sea level, it is warmer here than in the Tuwa camp. The sun has melted away almost the entire lake. “Ahhh, you can already feel spring coming here. A fantastic feeling after the long, hard winter,” I say, delighted with the pleasant temperature. “How warm do you think it is here?” asks Tanja. “It’s probably 15 or 20 °C in the sun. But Father Frost is still hiding in the shade.”

In the center of the village we reach a small grocery store which has one of the largest ranges in the village. The only saleswoman in the grocer’s store recognizes us and greets us cheerfully. “What was it like in the taiga?” she asks with interest. “Tanja answers calmly and beautifully. We fill our rucksacks with sweets, condensed milk, sugar, rice, pasta, eggs, potatoes, carrots and onions. As the store doesn’t have enough of everything in stock, we move to another store in the village. There we fill our rucksacks to the brim. On the way back, I feel like a heavily laden mule and moan a little to myself. “What’s wrong with you? It’s not heavy,” says Tanja. “Not difficult? We’ll be lucky if I don’t trigger an earthquake with my steps. Can’t you feel the vibration? It won’t be long before the earth cracks,” I say with a groan, to which we both laugh heartily.

Back in our log cabin, Tanja prepares pancakes for me. As there are eggs and UHT milk here, they taste excellent. “I can’t see any more pancakes,” says Tanja. “Why? You don’t eat any.” “But I often have to make you some.” “It’s possible that I won’t be able to eat any for a few years after the Mongolian trip. But at the moment, I think these dough slices are a real delicacy,” I reply, chewing noisily.

It’s 5 p.m. when Tanja storms into the hut. “Bilgee is in the village! I’m running to meet him!” she shouts excitedly, leaving the baishin again. I put on my jacket, slip into my thick shoes, grab my camera bag, sprint outside and hurry across the plain as Bilgee, accompanied by Tanja and Tsendmaa, come towards me. “Saijn bajna uu Bilgee! (Good day) Mend saihan Bajna uu?”, (How are you?) I shout joyfully, shaking his hand and hugging him. “Dsügeer, saijhan” (“Thank you, excellent”), he replies with a laugh, returning the hug. My eyes fall on our horses in horror. “They look terrible,” I say with as much control as I can muster. “Yes, the horses are in a terrible state,” confirms Bilgee. “What has happened? Why are they so emaciated?” I ask as we walk together to the log cabin. “I don’t know. It could be that Tulgaa didn’t let them graze enough when he brought them back to Mörön. The military herdsman told me that he had already received the horses in poor condition and it was not possible to feed them again over the winter,” he explains. My gaze meets Tanja’s, who has tears in her eyes at the sight of our animals. “How can you do this to animals? It’s torture,” she says with a trembling voice. “I’ll call Sraraa in a minute,” I reply as we lead the horses into Ayush’s yard and tie them up. “Can we even travel with them?” I ask Bilgee. “I brought them here even though I was told one or two of them wouldn’t survive. You see they made it. We have to ride slowly. Then it will go well. How far is it to the Tuwa camp?” he asks. “30 kilometers.” “If we split the distance into two days and ride without luggage, that’s no problem.” “Without luggage?” I say, wondering how we are going to get our equipment and food to the camp.

“Now come into the house, eat something and get some rest. I’ve prepared a hearty soup for you,” says Tanja. When Bilgee takes off his fur-lined deel, I admire it. “I had it tailored for me. The fur is from my old coat,” he explains and asks me to try it on. “Oh, it’s really light compared to mine. A fantastic deel,” I praise. “I slept in it on the ride here and didn’t freeze.” “You slept outside?” asks Tanja. “Yes. No problem. The coat and a fire kept me warm.”

We talk animatedly for hours and share our experiences of the past few months. “How’s your injury?” I ask. Bilgee shows us his hand. “You’re missing half your index finger!” I shout, startled. “Yes, it was a bad injury. I no longer have any feeling in my finger. It’s a bit of a problem when it’s so cold at night. I made extra mittens for the trip to you. That way I didn’t freeze my finger to death,” he explains. “All in all, you’ve been very lucky. Injuries with chainsaws have already cost entire hands and legs,” I say, to which Bilgee nods his head, deep in thought. “It’s wonderful to see you again after such a long time. We’re going to have a fantastic trip. I can’t wait to see how you like it with the Tuwa,” I say. “Me too.” “But we have an unforeseen problem. Will the horses survive?” I ask. “If there’s grass in the taiga, yes. Have you been able to find feeding grounds for the horses?” he asks anxiously. “Just two kilometers behind the camp, at the foot of a long mountain, lies a beautiful valley. I’ll soon be going there every day with Mogi. Ultsan said there is a lot of good grass there,” I explain. “That sounds promising,” he replies. “I just can’t believe that the military shepherd let our horses half starve. We had bought a truck full of hay. Saraa organized the horse feed. Could it be that the hay never got there?” Tanja ponders. “We are here in Mongolia. Anything is possible. Even though Saraa has mostly worked well so far, we know she’s been taking money for her services. Not so much that you necessarily notice it, but it has happened again and again,” I reply. “And you mean she didn’t get the hay?” asks Tanja. “I don’t want to say that. There’s no proof of that. Only that Ayush, Tsendmaa and Bilgee say that the horses should look much better with regular hay consumption,” I reply. “Maybe the shepherd didn’t take care of the horses,” Tanja interjects. “Possibly. But is the military really cheating? They still want the remaining 200,000 tugrik for their prison windows.” “We put the horses in their charge and they assured us that they would take good care of them. And look what happened. They won’t get another tugrik from us. Even if the horses survive, it will be a long time before they look healthy again. So we can only sell them at a loss if anyone buys them at all. The people we made the agreement with are responsible for that. Saraas husband works there. He must have seen the horses but he didn’t say anything. Saraa knows nothing and Tulgaa claims the horses were in poor condition when we gave them to him. It’s a pack of lies and now we have horses that some Mongolians say won’t survive the next two months. This is a disaster. They are ruining our trip, costing us a lot of money and are responsible for cruelty to animals. These idiots,” Tanja really lets off steam.

Shortly afterwards, I speak to Saraa. She is completely surprised. “I thought it was just a weak animal,” she says on her cell phone. “No, it’s about all of them. Three of them are particularly at risk,” I say. “Which ones?” “Well, Bor got the worst of them. Well, he’s always been thinner than the others. But Od isn’t doing well and even pregnant Naraa looks like a starving pig,” I explain. “Naraa is actually having a foal?” asks Saraa. “Yes. That’s another problem because it means she’s no longer operational at all. But it’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just that the poor mare gave birth to a little one and obviously had to starve, that’s another mess,” I say angrily. “And what are you going to do now?” “Yes, if I knew, I would be happy. I have no idea. Tanja will try to buy special horse feed. But you know where we are. We’ll find out if there’s anything like this at the end of the world.” “The horse feed is a good idea. If you don’t get any, I’ll send you some.” “We’ll leave the day after tomorrow at the latest. How is horse feed supposed to get from Mörön to the taiga?” “Let me worry about that. I’ll organize it if necessary,” she replies, to which I wonder how much it will cost. “Oh and something else. A 12-meter rope, a horse restraint, two halters and a bridle are missing. Who snatched that?” “I don’t know. Give me a few days and I’ll find out,” Saraa replies.

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