Escape

Day: 344

Sunrise:
05:15

Sunset:
21:32

As the crow flies:
29,41

Daily kilometers:
40

Total kilometers:
1666

Soil condition:
Grass, rock, stone

Temperature – Day (maximum):
30°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
26 °C

Temperature – Night:
12 °C

Latitude:
50°05’328”

Longitude:
100°02’174”

Maximum height:
1700 m above sea level

Time of departure:
9:30

Arrival time:
19:00

We leave the thieves’ camp behind us at 9:30 am. The morning is almost cloudless. Towards midday, the sun gains more and more strength. Despite the 56°C in the sun, we are soon trotting non-stop. It goes over unforested mountain ranges and through lush green valleys. The load keeps slipping today, forcing us to make short stops. We either move the luggage into position or have to completely unload and reload the packhorses.

Mogi snorts like a steam engine. His breathing is intermittent. We stop on the flank of a hill covered with stones and coarse rocks to take the biting helmet from him. Ever since Khurgaa and Bumbayr left us, I’ve been walking him on a lead next to Sar. If he walks without a muzzle now, that’s no problem. The leash must not break. “Denis?” “Yes?” “Naraa can’t take any more.” “We still have to keep going.” “But she can’t go on!” “We might find a place to rest on the other side of this mountain. But let’s cross the mountain,” I reply.

In fact, we find another lush pasture on a sloping rock face that borders directly on the Egyin Gol (Egyin River). We unload the horses, water them at the river and lie down on the shadeless bank of the river. “It’s terribly hot,” Tanja moans, pulling her hat down over her face. Because it’s too hot for me to rest in the blazing sun, I get up and walk along the shore for a while. Again and again I scoop the ice-cold water into my face or wet my hat to put it on wet. A steep rock face borders the river and prevents us from going any further. Horses stand in water up to their bellies at this point and cool their bodies. I discover a spring. Cool, fresh water gushes out from between the rocks and splashes into the river. I fetch our water bottles to fill them up.

The heat is now oppressive. Dark storm clouds gather, as they do almost every day. Voraciously, they rush in to mercilessly devour the deep blue. “We should keep going,” I say, studying the weather a little anxiously. “I’m so tired,” Tanja replies. “No wonder. We both didn’t get much sleep last night.” “Can’t we stay here?” “There’s no firewood. Besides, we should still have at least 10 kilometers to go.” “Do you think they’ll follow us?” “I don’t know. It’s hard to spot our tracks. I’ve been leading us over mountains and lots of scree all day. But as you know, it’s almost impossible to remain undetected in this country. Despite all the tricks. Some shepherd is always sitting somewhere with his one-eye (telescope) watching his animals and everything that moves through his field of vision. The more kilometers we make today, the more difficult it is for thieves to follow us or find us.” “Okay,” Tanja groans, rising heavily. Sweating, we heave the heavy luggage onto the saddles. As it is not possible to go any further because of the rock flank next to the river, we steer our horses into the Egyin Gol. We ride at least 100 meters through the cold water to avoid the rough rock. “It’s very deep up ahead,” warns Tanja, pointing to the wild horses, some of which disappear up to their shoulders in the water as they cross the current. I ride carefully ahead to carefully study the stony bottom of the river. “It should work here,” I say. “It’s far too deep!” warns Tanja. “Oh well. We’ll manage,” I reply to Sar, drifting further into the water. Although we get our feet wet, we reach the other side of the rock face and thus grassland again.

After crossing another mountain range, we enter a huge valley. We trot along the banks of the Egyin Gol until the hooves of our mounts sink into the damp, boggy ground. We leave the river for a while and find a dry path that leads through the plain. “Faster!” I shout as Tanja falls into step with Naraa. “Naraa can’t take any more!” “Tanja! Look to the right! Can you see the storm? Those clouds don’t bode well. We must have left the plain before it gets here,” I explain, whereupon she drives Naraa on again. The valley soon stretches for 10 kilometers until it is bordered by a mountain. Again and again I look at the approaching clouds. If we weren’t in Mongolia, I would say a hurricane is heading our way. The cloud towers are blue-black, interspersed with peculiar lighter stripes. I only know such formations from tropical countries or Australia. The memory of Cyclone Sam suddenly rises up in me. Sam was a class five cyclone that threatened us as we marched our camels along the northwest coast of Australia. We were very lucky to escape the deadly danger back then. I’m sure I won’t bump into Sam’s relatives here, but the cloud formations are anything but reassuring. “Faster!” I shout, trying to suppress my rising fear. “It doesn’t go any faster!” answers Tanja. “Chooo! Choo-choo! Choo-choo!” I urge the horses on. Even if we are not dealing with a storm of superlatives, there will be thunder and lightning without end. As we are the highest elevation far and wide, we are undoubtedly in danger of being struck by lightning. “Chooo! Chooo! Chooo!” I shout. Although I am also very tired, the approaching threat draws considerable reserves of strength from within my body. “Chooo! Chooo! Chooo!”, I shout as the first lightning bolts shoot into the ground at the edge of the mountain about five kilometers away. “Chooo! Chooo! Chooo!”, I shout again and again until we reach the end of the valley and the mountain range ahead of us. “We still have to get over there. Then we’ll be back at Egyin Gol. I hope to find a good place to camp there,” I explain to Tanja. We have been trotting or climbing ridges for almost 10 hours. 40 kilometers of riding lie behind us. It is an exhausting day that once again demands everything from us.

“We could still be over the mountain before the thunderstorm,” I say with relief, as it wouldn’t be advisable to ride around on a mountain range in thunder and lightning. The horses and we sweat as we ride slowly down the sloping, stony hill on the other side of the mountain. “Down there! Can you see the river island?” I ask Tanja. “Yes.” “If we manage to ride through the river arm with the horses, it could be a fantastic place to camp,” I say, crossing both fingers that I’m right.

When we reach the river, I study the current for a while. “I’ll try it without packhorses first,” I tell Sar, steering into the floods. Although the water reaches up to its belly, the crossing is not particularly challenging. On the island, I ride through dense bushes. When I get through I can hardly believe my eyes. In front of me is a lush pasture surrounded by dense shrubs and bushes, which is able to feed our animals for at least three days. It also offers plenty of firewood and we can draw fresh water from the river. We are also protected from prying eyes by the bush barrier. “Heaven sent us this hiding place,” I whisper and ride back to the bank to cross the river again. I happily tell Tanja about the dreamy, safe place.

“You ride through the river with Naraa and Tuya, I drive Sharga, Bor and Tenger,” I say. “You mean they come over with their cargo intact?” “Absolutely no problem. Come quickly. Before someone comes down the mountain and sees us,” I urge them to hurry. Five minutes later we find ourselves in the hiding place. “And what do you think?” I ask, overjoyed to have found such a fantastic place. “Hard to believe. No one can see us here,” she replies with a grin. “Yes, and apart from a rider, no one else comes to the island. Even if horse thieves were to discover us, which I don’t think they would, the island is strategically ideal. The current of the arm of the river on the other side is too strong even for horses. So they could only cross the river on this side. It is therefore impossible to sneak up silently. And certainly not a quick escape. Apart from that, we have our Mogi. All in all, absolutely brilliant,” I rejoice.

As the first lightning flashes from the sky and the first raindrops fall, our tent is already standing. The storm is not as bad as feared. It has literally split right in front of us and roars past us on the left and right. “The storm has also formed an island on which it lets us rest,” I say as we eat our ready-made food ravenously. “Indeed it is. Mongolia is giving us a break,” replies Tanja.

We look forward to your comments!