I would love to turn his collar upside down

Day: 321

Sunrise:
05:06

Sunset:
21:36

As the crow flies:
12,39

Daily kilometers:
17

Total kilometers:
1412

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
30 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
22 °C

Temperature – Night:
4 °C

Latitude:
51°20’982”

Longitude:
099°20’852”

Maximum height:
1572 m above sea level

As if a great power had flipped a switch, it has been hot for a few days now. As Tsagaan Nuur lies at an altitude of around 1,500 meters, it is warmer here than in the Tuwa spring camp. But we didn’t expect the sudden and daily increasing heat. The weather didn’t give us a chance to get used to the temperatures. Sweating, we pull our horses across a wide, dry grassy area. Herds of cattle, horses and sheep eat the freshly sprouting grass on the plain before it has a chance to develop. A family is unloading a dismantled yurt from their yaks. They have moved from winter camp to summer camp. “We come from the taiga,” I explain in Mongolian. As none of the men react, I say, “It was a cold winter there.” Again no reaction. “We lived there with the Tuwa.” No reaction. “Have a good day.” Silence. “Daraa bajartaj.” (Goodbye) Silence. “Daraa bajartaj!” (Goodbye). “Daraa bajartaj”, (goodbye) they finally reply and laugh sheepishly. As we move on, I wonder if my pronunciation is that bad or if the men were really shy.

On the rest of the way, Mogi walks on a lead. The heat makes him pant like a power station. “That’s what you get,” I say to him. He looks at me and doesn’t understand a word. “If I let you go, you’ll be able to teach the sheep and goats to fly. It’s enough for me if you want to drown them despite your muzzle,” I explain. Mogi looks down at the floor in a huff. “I realize you’re deaf in that ear,” I say, offended by his reaction.

When we reach the Shishged River, all the horses run onto the ferry without causing any problems. Even Bor obviously remembers Bilgee’s beating, and moves swiftly on it. I help the ferryman to pull his load across the arm of water on a wire rope while Tanja and Bilgee hold the reins of the mounts.

After a four-hour walk, we reach Tsagaan Nuur. “Let’s ask Ayush if we can stay,” suggests Bilgee. “I can’t get ten horses to go with the old cheapskates,” I reply, remembering how he ripped Tanja off a few weeks ago. “We shouldn’t react the wrong way out of pride. If Bilgee goes home and one of us has to look after the horses, the other can run errands. The baishin can at least be cordoned off. When we go to Shagai, we have to sleep in the tent. That means one of us always has to be present to watch the equipment,” explains Tanja. “All right, then. It’s worth a try. But we won’t pay more than 5,000 tugrik (€2.85) per night,” I concede. I was thinking of 3,000 Tugrik. (1,71 €) That would still be three times as much as the usual price,” says Tanja.

On the way to Ayush’s log cabin, Tanja turns onto a dusty road too early. Then she leads Naraa through a fence. Sharga misses the entrance to the fence and follows Tanja outside the wooden fence. “Tanja! Tanja!!!”, I shout to warn her, as I assume I’m about to be confronted with a problem. As soon as I have called Tanja, Sharga realizes the spatial separation from Naraa. Without further ado, he wants to get through the fence, which consists only of a beam nailed from post to post at a height of about 1.6 meters. Sharga puts his head down and underruns the beam, which gets caught in his load. Startled by the unforeseen obstacle and the terrible scraping noise, he literally goes crazy. He rears up a little and gallops under the beams in a wild panic. The concentrated power of our cart horse and the beam tears the load, including the load saddle, from its back. The duffel bags fly a little through the air and crash onto the dusty ground while Sharga races towards Naraa and Tanja like an arrow. “Brrrrrr! Brrrrrr! Brrrrrr!” Tanja calls out to calm the frantic horse. He pauses just before Sharga thunders into Naraa’s side and the foal. “Phew, that was close,” I groan. “Why did you run through the fence?”, I ask Tanja because I think she deliberately ignored my warning. “I didn’t realize that Sharga wasn’t following me,” she replies, also annoyed. “I called you,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear about that,” Tanja replies. “Okay, okay. We were lucky,” I relent and look at the damage to the luggage or the saddle. Fortunately, the laptops were stowed in Tenger’s luggage and thus remained undamaged. After a brief inspection, there is only one bent metal strut on the pack saddle to complain about.

Because the incident happened only a hundred meters from Ayush’s log cabin, we leave everything and tie the horses to the wooden fence. While I watch over the horses and equipment, Tanja and Bilgee go to the old miser to ask if we can stay in his run-down baishin. Just five minutes later, Tanja comes back shaking her head. He wants 10,000 tugriks (€5.71) and won’t go down a tugrik,” she says, exasperated. “Well then, let’s run to Shagai,” I say. “Maybe we should offer Ayush our table and chairs in return? They’re still in his hut and haven’t been sold,” Tanja ponders. “They cost 130,000 tugrik. If we stay here for three or five nights, that would be an insane price,” I reply. “What the hell. We can’t seem to sell the furniture and before we invest any more money in transporting it to Mörön, we’d better give it to the old bag,” Tanja suggests. “Okay. I’ll go back to the lion’s den and talk to him,” I say. When I get to the hut, the old man is cleaning up. “Hello Ayush,” I greet him. “Saijn bajna uu” (“Good day”) he murmurs without looking at me. “We’ve been in this region since November last year. So over eight months. We can’t change money here so we only have a little left,” I explain and before I can continue what I’m about to offer him, he mumbles aggressively. “No money, no money, no money.” “Tanja and I would like to offer you the table and the chairs. Together they are worth 130,000 tugrik (€75). In return, we would like to use your hut for five days,” I interrupt his incessant grumbling. “No money! No money! No money!” he continues without giving me a second of his attention or a single glance. I would love to grab the curmudgeon by the collar and shake him, but I can control myself. It’s quite clear to me that the cutthroat has long regarded the table and chairs as his own and is therefore out for more. He has to expect that we won’t invest any money in having the bulky stuff transported to Mörön or Erdenet. “I’ll spice up this soup for you. And when I smash my table with an axe in front of you,” I say in my own language, turn on my heel and leave this terrible person. “Let him suffocate in his bug-ridden hut,” I curse, leaving the baishin.

“And were you successful?” asks Tanja. “Fuck him,” I say, annoyed at having been treated so patronizingly. “Maybe he didn’t understand you? Bilgee should try again and make him our offer in the local language,” Tanja suggests. “Okay,” I give in again, although I don’t feel like staying in this place for a second longer. Just five minutes later, Bilgee returns, also without success. “Didn’t I tell you? He thinks he already owns the furniture,” I say. “We have to get out all our equipment that’s still stored here tomorrow and take it to Shagai,” Tanja replies.

Tired from the march and the unaccustomed warmth, we walk through the village of Tsagaan Nuur like a funeral procession. At the other end, we reach Shagai’s log cabin, which makes a positive first impression on me. We unload the horses next to the two yurts in the courtyard next to the log cabin. “Looks like our yurt?” says Tanja, pointing to one of the two round tents. “That’s our yurt,” I confirm, recognizing her. We learned from Shagai that the yurt we lived in during the winter was his own. For some reason Saraa claimed to rent us her own Mongolian tent. In this way, she was able to fork out a large commission that Shagai still doesn’t know about. He himself received 1,000 tugrik (€0.57) a day from Saraa. Since such tricky business is normal in this country, we gave up worrying about it.

Shagai and his wife Dalai welcome us with open arms. We are immediately invited for tea and bread. After the necessary waiting time, I ask if the yurts are empty. “We are currently using one as a materials store. If you like, you can store your equipment there,” says Shagai. “Oh, that’s wonderful,” I say thankfully and am pleased how the problem of storing my luggage at Ayush’s has been solved. “My parents-in-law live in the other yurt during the winter months. But they moved to the spring camp two weeks ago,” continues Shagai. “A thought immediately occurs to me. “We have a beautiful table and two chairs. If we could stay in the yurt for the next few days, we’d be happy to give you the furniture in return,” I offer. “But of course. I’d love to,” they both say. Shagai immediately gets up and goes outside with me to unlock the yurt. My gaze falls on a beautifully furnished tent. “Wonderful. It’s like a hotel,” I say happily. It doesn’t take long for us to move in. “See, I had another positive reason for being rejected by Ayush. Without his greed, we would never have ended up in this beautiful place,” I say, happy about today’s pleasant turn of events.

Tanja, Bilgee and I drink a few cups of cold beer which Tanja bought in one of the stores. We eat peanuts and think about where the horses should graze tonight. “It’s not supposed to be bad opposite Shagai’s property,” I think aloud. “Who said that?” asks Tanja. “Na Shagai. If we take the horses there, Bilgee won’t have to ride into the mountains. Our night shifts would be easier because the pasture is only 100 meters from the yurt,” I say. “A good idea,” Tanja agrees.

As we did on the ride here from Erdenet, we are planning rolling guard shifts starting tonight. The first is from 11:00 pm to 1:00 am, the second from 1:00 am to 3:00 am and the third from 3:00 am to 5:00 am. “Who’s going first?” asks Tanja. As the first shift is the best, I would prefer to take it over, but that wouldn’t be fair. “We should draw lots,” Tanja has an idea. ‘Good idea,’ say Bilgee and I. Bilgee draws the best lot and starts, then Tanja follows and at dusk I can keep an eye on our four-legged friends. Tired, I sit in my folding chair and watch as a barely perceptible light creeps into the darkness. The following grey cliffs soon change imperceptibly into lighter yellowish colors. At the same time, the birds wake up. More and more chirping. One of the birds, I believe, is able to imitate the neighing of a horse. Shortly after 5:00 in the morning, the glowing ball of sunlight moves over a mountain as if in slow motion. Their morning rays glisten over the brown grass and hit the bodies of the horses that nibble incessantly at the sparse grass. Even though it’s a strenuous job to work waking shifts at this time, there’s something meditative about it.

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