Packing and blowing

Day: 319

Sunrise:
05:06

Sunset:
21:35

As the crow flies:
11

Daily kilometers:
15

Total kilometers:
1376

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
25 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
19 °C

Temperature – Night:
minus 5 °C

Latitude:
51°33’227”

Longitude:
099°18’794”

Maximum height:
1827 m above sea level

Packing takes longer than planned. No wonder, because after two months of living in the tipi, a lot has accumulated. The challenge on today’s departure day is to stow all our belongings on four horsebacks. Because Od was stolen and, to our dismay, has not turned up to this day, we are forced to leave the taiga on foot. Tanja’s Naraa is no longer available as a riding horse due to her continuing weakness. She is obviously being sucked dry by our well-developing and always hungry new arrival Tuya. Although Bor looks like a hunger hook, he gets his usual load of 60 kg. We also use my horse Sar, Bilgee’s Tenger and our cart horse Sharga as pack horses. It is a shame to have to travel on foot in the land of riders, but circumstances force us to do so.

We rush back and forth like weasels, trying to stow our luggage in four duffel bags and four messenger bags. I sit in front of our teepee and tear my hair out. “How is all this supposed to fit into the bags?” I ask tiredly before we set off. “You’ll find a place for it,” says Tanja. “You with your confidence. How can you? Look at the chaos. We have too much. It’s not going in,” I reply at a point where the life of adventure could slide down my hump. During this time we are repeatedly visited by the Tuwa. Tanja manages to serve Puntsel, Saintsetseg, Hadaa and Hoo with tea and bread despite the hustle and bustle of packing. “This is for you,” says Hoo and hands me a gazelle’s foot as well. “The unexpected gift from Ultsan’s brother puts me in a bad mood. “Now I just need a horse to ride,” I say with a laugh, putting the present in my saddle bag. In return, I give Hoo my rubber boots, which I hope I won’t need for the next 1,000 kilometers.

We are ready at 15:00. As Tanja had announced, we actually managed to load our belongings onto the four horses. Everything we could no longer stow away and spare is distributed among the Tuwa. We leave the Nomads’ spring camp without much ado and without saying goodbye. Only a few stand in front of their tents and wave. Somewhat disappointed, we leave behind the community we lived with for so long. It only takes minutes for the tipis to disappear behind a small hill without a sound. Lost in thought, I pull my sar behind me. Sure, what did I expect? A farewell with a brass band? Yesterday we said goodbye to the Tuwa closest to us. So it’s completely normal that the 45 or so people present don’t stand on a hill to wave at us. Who should have organized this? Apart from that, coming and going is part of the nomads’ daily routine. The disappointment in us is solely due to our German origin. At home, we are seen off by our family and closest friends before every trip. Everyone gathers at the station or airport. But we are not at home, we are at the beginning of the world with one of the last functioning nomadic tribes. The customs and traditions are different here.

As little Tuya, Sharga, Bor and Tenger follow the mare Naraa, Tanja walks ahead with Naraa. That is the reason why we can let Sharga and Bor run free. Bilgee, who leads Tenger, and I with my sar in tow, just have to make sure that the two freewheelers are driven a little.

After just 10 minutes, my knees start to rebel. Because of yesterday’s mountain hike and the resulting descent over the steep scree field, both menisci are obviously irritated. Another 10 minutes later I feel the typical burning sensation of blisters. So that the pain is balanced, I am treated with it on the left and right heel. Then there is the unaccustomed heat of around 25 °C in the shade. To avoid looking like a wimp on my first day of running, I avoid the pain and, like Tanja and Bilgee, try to float light-footedly over the holey, rough ground. But when the first blister bursts and the raw flesh scrapes up and down the leather of my shoe, my gait becomes unsteady. Sure, now the pain on the left heel is greater than on the right. The bad ground then gives me the rest. The knee pain becomes unbearable and causes the blisters to fade. Tanja and Bilgee, meanwhile, continue to float happily through the country, the beauty of which I only notice a little at this point. When we have to take off our shoes at a river to wade through its glacial waters, part of the burst bladder gets stuck to our socks. At this point, at the latest, I admit to being a little shaken. “We actually wanted to go on for another two hours,” says Tanja dryly. “Two hours?” I almost choke. “Yes, we have to achieve good feeding grounds for the horses,” says Bilgee. “Do you happen to have any plasters with you?” I ask Tanja. “They’re in the main luggage,” I hear and consider whether I can trust my body to carry on. I look longingly at Naraa, on whose back only a saddle and light saddlebags are loaded. “You can’t ride her. She’s too weak,” says Tanja, apparently guessing my thoughts. Shocked to have been caught out, I slump my shoulders. “Okay, I’ll run as long as I can. You can go ahead,” I decide.

At 19:00 we reach an open area by a stream where some greenery is sprouting. We decide to stay here because of the usable feeding ground. Like a car bobbing along on its bare rims, I limp around and set up our tent. Tanja, meanwhile, takes care of dinner while Bilgee pegs the horses.

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