Horse theft

Day: 311

Sunrise:
05:11

Sunset:
21:28

Total kilometers:
1361

Soil condition:
Ice, snow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
15°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
10°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 10°C

Latitude:
51°39’155”

Longitude:
099°21’977”

Maximum height:
1858 m above sea level

Suddenly Bilgee comes riding up on Sar. He has Sharga with him. “I thought you might need wood,” he says cheerfully. “That’s right, there hasn’t been any for days. Tanja brought some branches and rotten wood from the forest,” I reply, pointing to the wood next to the chopping block. “Muu wood”, (“bad wood”) he says. “Come into the tipi first and have a cup of tea,” I invite him. As soon as he sits on his bed, which he has never used for sleeping before, he hands Tanja a plastic bag containing four fish. “Oh fish. How did you catch it?” she asks. “I wanted to give you a surprise,” he replies with a laugh. “Then the hooks I gave you are the right size?” “I caught them by hand,” he replies. “What, with your hand?” “Why, yes. I go under a rock with my hand, where the fish are resting. Then I stroke them on the belly and throw them onto the land,” he says. “You’re kidding me?” “But no. I’ve been doing that since I was a little boy. It works,” he assures me. “You know what? We’ll go and get some wood and then I’ll prepare the fish for us. What do you think of that?” I ask, not going into his fishing technique any further. “A good idea,” he replies.

An hour later, we bring three tree trunks about 2 ½ meters long to the camp with Sharga. While Bilgee saws up the logs, I prepare the fish as promised. It tastes wonderful. Although I am enjoying this moment, I am plagued by a vague feeling. “Don’t you think it’s risky to leave the horses unattended?” I ask Tanja. “I think a horse thief only steals at night. During the day he is certainly afraid of being seen. You know the shepherds are always somewhere in the mountains looking after their herds. How would a thief know that this is not the case here? Besides, we are in the taiga. So far away from the tourist routes. Bilgee says there’s no danger here.” “But last year, six horses were stolen from the Tuwa right next to the camp. At least that’s what Tsaya told me,” I reply. “As I said, I don’t think our horses are in danger,” Tanja reassures me.

Because Bilgee wants to go hunting at night, he asks if Tanja can accompany him to his camp to look after the horses in his absence. “I’d actually prefer to stay with you. I’ve been on the road long enough lately,’ she says to me. “Tanja has to work on the translation of my texts. She can’t come with you. Maybe at a later date,” I put our horse man off. Equipped with new provisions and the rifle borrowed from Tso, he leaves us again to look after the horses in the outlying camp.

Tanja and I are sitting at our laptops when Bilgee reappears about two hours later. “Asuudal!” (“Problem!”) he shouts before we are even out of the tipi. “Asuudal? What happened?” Tanja and I ask almost simultaneously. “Od is gone. It was stolen,” Bilgee’s reply shocks us. “What? Stolen?” I ask incredulously. “Tijmee,” he replies dryly. “I searched everywhere but he’s no longer there. I had put horse fetters on him. The thief could just take Od. He disappeared without a trace. I was already with Gamba and wanted to contact the police in Tsagaan Nuur via his radio. But the last contact was at 18:00.” “Let’s go to Tsaya. We can discuss what we can do there,” Tanja suggests. While the two of them are with Tsaya, I sit in my folding chair like counterfeit money and stare at the keys on my notebook. Now it seems that the horse theft has got us after all. Although we were very careful and also hired a horseman for this, it did happen. I just can’t believe it. Until now it was questionable how we should transport our equipment to Tsgaan Nuur. Naraa is still not really strong because of her pregnancy. Because Bor didn’t want to go on the ferry, he got hit so hard on the butt by Bilgee that he is now limping. He was already a bony frame anyway, but a limping bony frame is certainly no longer suitable for traveling. My horse Sar, Bilgees Tenger and Sharga are ready for action. But what should we load our luggage onto? “What a bloody mess. The taiga just doesn’t seem to want to let us go,” I curse quietly to myself.

“There’s no point in reporting the horse theft to the police. Tsaya thinks the civil servant in Tsagaan Nuur won’t bother,” reports Tanja when she is back in the tipi. “I can imagine. With the number of horse thefts, Mongolia would need a special squad trained for it,” I say glumly. “Bilgee has only been away for four hours and already a horse has been stolen. We’re probably still lucky that they haven’t stolen them all,” Tanja suspects. “Could be. Luck in misfortune. But that’s no consolation. It looks like we’ve got another classic Mongolian case on our hands – what do you suggest? What should we do now?” I ask. “I’ll walk to the outer camp and look after the horses while Bilgee goes in search of Od,” she replies. “Does that make sense?” I ask. “I have no idea. But we have to do something.” “If you want to go, then do it. Take Mogi with you. He’ll protect you in an emergency,” I say and help Tanja pack her rucksack. “See you soon! See you at camp!” shouts Bilgee, trotting ahead on Sar’s back.

“Take care of yourself,” I say to my wife a little later. We hug, then she walks with Mogi at her side to the Bilgee camp, a two-hour walk away. “Have you got the big pepper spray with you?” I shout. “Yes, I have plugged it in!” she replies. I stop next to the tepee and wave until she is swallowed up by the tall bushes. Then I retire to the tepee to continue writing our story. I try to concentrate, which I struggle to do. My premonition about the horse theft has come true. I hope Tanja comes back tomorrow. Then we have to come up with an alternative plan. The loss of a horse is currently estimated at around 500,000 Tugrik (286 €). It would be possible to rent a horse from the horsewoman. That would be another 300,000 Tugrik (€172) a month. As we want to be on the road with horses for at least another two to three months, this theft adds up to 1.1 to 1.4 million Tugrik. (629 to 801 €) Bilgee’s fish was certainly the most expensive in our lives.

At midnight, I close my laptop. I crawl back into my sleeping bag as a hermit. I gaze out of the open flue of our tipi into the cloudy sky for a long time, pondering a solution to this challenge that has once again come out of nowhere, until my eyes finally close and I fall into a restless sleep.

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