Coughing masonry drill

Day: 268

Sunrise:
06:22

Sunset:
20:22

Total kilometers:
1341

Soil condition:
Ice, snow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
10°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
minus 5°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 10°C

Latitude:
51°33’337”

Longitude:
099°15’341”

Maximum height:
1981 m above sea level

The weather seems to be getting wintry from day to day as it is now snowing up to 20 centimeters a day. We are constantly cold because of living in our tipi. The temporary solution intended for one day becomes permanent. Who would have thought it? Bilgee visits us every day for breakfast or dinner. It is much colder in his tent than in our heated tipi. But not a word of complaint comes from his lips. On the contrary, he is in a good mood every day. He helps me with chopping wood and sawing. We are busy cleaning up the chopped wooden scabbard when the camphounds strike. “Will a jeep come in this bad weather?” I ask. Then we see a black shadow in the forest. “What kind of animal is that?” I ask again when we recognize Mogi a few moments later, dragging a three-metre-long wooden beam behind him. “Unbelievable. This is the beam I tied it to. It’s a good thing the trunk didn’t get caught in any undergrowth or trees. That certainly wouldn’t have ended well,” says Bilgee in amazement. “Yes Mogi? What are you doing? Have you been longing for us?” I greet him. Bilgee frees him. Mogi wags his tail and is happy to have made the two-kilometer journey from the bilge camp to the Tuvalu camp with his heavy load. “Well, you’d make a great sled dog,” I say, patting him. Because we have given Mogi Bilgee the task of reinforcing the guard, he has been spending his days in the clearing ever since. This way he can warn our horse man if anything unusual appears. It’s boring for our dog there. He needs and loves the action at camp.

The dark clouds disperse around midday. It doesn’t take long before the sun has completely licked away the snow. The Tuwa have been trying in vain since the morning to start a brand new 40 kilogram stone drill. They take turns tugging on the starter rope without stopping. “Sansar and Ultsan got the stone drill from a jade dealer. In return, they have to bring him 80 kilograms of jade,” explains Tsaya. “80 kilograms? That would be 1.6 million tugrik at a good price?” I quickly do the math. “It’s a spot price. They didn’t even have to make a deposit because the dealer trusts them. A few years ago, the young man was looking for the jade place and got lost in the taiga. Ultsan brought him to the camp. We gave him something to eat and drink. Then Ultsan showed him the way. Today he is a rich jade trader. To pay his debt, he now gave Ultsan and Sansar the stone drill. For us, this machine is a good way to mine more jade and earn more money.” “Surely it’s made in China?” “Of course it is. Everything we get is made in China.” “Well, I hope the men are able to start this monster machine,” I say.

The next day, after 12 hours of hard work, the masonry drill coughs from time to time. Then it starts and runs for about a minute. I admire the men’s perseverance because I would have burned this piece of shit a long time ago or packed it back in the wooden box and sent it to the dealer. But we are at the end of the world here. In such a secluded place you don’t burn or send anything because there is no post office here. The only option is to tweak it until it works. In fact, the Tuwas dismantle the masonry drill down to the last screw, clean everything and put it back together again. Then try to start again. At first in vain, but lo and behold, after another hour of adjustment and immense effort, because starting is very difficult, the thing coughs again. It now coughs more often than before until it starts to stutter. The enthusiasm among the men is great. They immediately drag the coarse cast-iron piece to a rock in the middle of the now snow-free square to maltreat it mercilessly with a deafening noise. After an hour, it looks like Swiss cheese. Now Sansar and Ultsan can set about drilling 80 kilograms of jade together to pay for the machine for the first time. Hopefully the drill is not completely ruined afterwards. I congratulate the successful taiga mechanics and take the opportunity to give each of the men a pair of glasses. “So now all men should have one?” I ask Tsaya. “Ultsan’s uncle Bayandalai doesn’t have any yet. He’s just in camp to get the horses,” she says. I immediately go to Bayandalai and hand him a pair of the coveted sunglasses. “Ah, you’re a good man Denis. Thank you very, very much. I’ll share the glasses with my wife because she always has sore eyes. That makes us the two most beautiful people in Tsagaan Nuur,” he says, because he lives in Tsagaan Nuur most of the time due to his school-age children. “Thanks for the compliment,” I say and as I’m about to leave he calls out; “I’ll visit you and Tanja at spring camp! Definitely!” “The door to our tipi is always open for you,” I reply.

“The men were very happy about your presents,” says Tsaya as we walk back to her baishin. “Yes, absolutely. It was a good idea of Ultsan to tell us the story and we are glad that our sponsor partner has taken up the cause,” I reply. “By the way, the first men are bringing their equipment to the spring camp today,” says Tsaya casually. “What? Really? We could have gone with them,” I reply. “We’ll bring our household to camp tomorrow. You can ride with us,” she says. “Good, then tomorrow is the day you leave?” “Absolutely. Now we just have to get our horses. Sansar and Hoo are leaving this afternoon to get them,” she explains, whereupon we agree with Bilgee that he will be at the Tuwa camp with our horses by 11 a.m. tomorrow at the latest.

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