Plague and jackpot

Day: 395-396

Sunrise:
06:16/06:16

Sunset:
20:17/20:13

As the crow flies:
26,92/37,57

Daily kilometers:
36/50

Total kilometers:
2273

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
30 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
18 °C

Temperature – Night:
minus 0 °C

Latitude:
49°11’746”

Longitude:
101°22’865”

Maximum height:
1700 m above sea level

Arrival time:
18:30

Although we had already prepared our departure well yesterday, it takes us five hours to break camp, pack and load the horses. Since we certainly don’t dawdle for far too long. But even if everything runs absolutely smoothly, we usually don’t get away with less than four hours. This is partly due to the all-important boiling of the water, the preparation of the meal and the time-consuming packing of the horse load. When the four 30 to 35 kilogram duffel bags, the four 15 kg courier bags, the saddles and saddlebags are stowed on the horse’s back, I can usually lie down and rest again. But then the riding day begins. But because we are traveling without a horse-drawn carriage on this stage, we make faster progress. Mountains and passes no longer cause us any difficulties. In the valleys it is therefore possible for us to let the horses trot continuously. According to my GPS, the average trotting speed is nine to ten kilometers per hour. We are now able to cover between 35 and 50 kilometers a day.

Because there are no watercourses in the hilly landscape, it is often completely deserted. Cattle, yaks, sheep, horses and goats are also hardly to be seen. From time to time, however, we come across some shepherds cutting hay for the winter with their scythes. Because progress has not stopped at Mongolia in recent years, they no longer travel with horse-drawn carts or cattle wagons but with rickety small trucks.

We enjoy the solitude and impressive landscape. Nevertheless, Tanja is worried because we can’t always water our horses. However, we are lucky and find puddles filled with rain on a dirt track at the right time. Enough to quench the thirst of the horses and Mogi.

On the first evening after the Selengeriver, we hide in a lush meadow behind a sparse larch forest at the foot of a mountain range. Even before we can pitch our tent, we are surprised by a downpour. We are soaked to the skin and dog-tired.

Although rare in Mongolia, we remain undiscovered until the next morning. After the routine of dismantling the camp and loading up, we trot on through endless valleys, over a 1,700-meter-high pass and across huge green spaces whose grass stretches waist-high into the cloudy sky. “Watch out for the hole!” warns Tanja as she rides ahead with her Naraa. They are deep holes in the ground where a horse can easily stumble into. During our first Mongolia expedition in 1996, my horse once broke into such a tunnel. The result was that we both did a 360 degree roll. Fortunately, neither the horse nor I was injured. This time we want to avoid such falls by keeping a close eye on the ground.

“Apparently there are still a lot of marmots here,” says Tanja. “It’s probably because the area is deserted,” I suspect. “Bilgee would have already unpacked his rifle and shot some of them.” “I’m quite sure of that,” I reply and am glad not to have him along as a member of the expedition this time because of the lung and bubonic plague danger still posed by the rodents.

Because Bilgee is a passionate hunter, there was no question of dissuading him from hunting marmots. “It’s not dangerous,” he had repeatedly emphasized. However, I spoke to a few locals in the meantime who taught me otherwise. “People are still dying of the plague here every year. The authorities react quickly, quarantine the affected districts and control the roads, but there are still deaths. Because the marmots are threatened with extinction, a total hunting ban was imposed for several years. Many did not comply and when the hunters fell ill with the disease, they did not go to the doctor and died for fear of punishment,” Rezindorj explained to me. “But the hunt is open again?” I asked. “Well, I think so. But according to the law, you can only hunt in late summer. If someone catches the disease before then it’s due to poaching. One reason why a hunter doesn’t go to the doctor. The consequences for the affected families are fatal,” replied our host, who knew a lot about the worst epidemic ever to hit Europe.

Between 1347 and 1350, one in two people died of the plague. Some even claim that warriors of the famous Golden Hordes used plague deaths from their own ranks as biological weapons and threw them into the besieged city of Caffa on the Black Sea. This is how the plague is said to have been brought from Mongolia to Europe. It took 200 years for the continent to recover from the terrible pandemic. I actually thought the plague had been eradicated a long time ago and was just a terrible part of the Middle Ages, but the disease is still real. As late as 1919, 60,000 people died of the plague in Manchuria. Inner Mongolia suffered 23,000 deaths in 1947. The starting point of the mass extinction was always Mongolia. The plague still occurs today in the mountain forests and steppes of North and South America, South Africa and Central and South-East Asia, including Mongolia. Apparently, this disease can only be defeated by eradicating the marmots. But at least it is under control and, compared to the Middle Ages, we now know where to find the cause of the Grim Reaper.

With my eyes glued to the ground, I trot across the grassy landscape because there are so many of these underground passages in this lonely area, with their dark, 15-centimeter-wide exits. I shudder to think that Bilgee hunted marmots almost every day and took them out next to our tent or in his yurt and transported the skins in our horse-drawn cart. If you are infected with bubonic plague, the incubation period is between a few hours and seven days. One dies of high fever. The even more aggressive pneumonic plague causes a person to die on the first or second day after the one- or two-day incubation period. There is only a chance of survival if professional action is taken after the slightest suspicion. Wiping away my negative thoughts, I look down from the ground at the majestic, tree-dotted hilly landscape.

We reach the village of Raschant, buy some food and quickly leave the little log cabin town behind us. We are immediately embraced by solitude again as we cross a gentle ridge and a pass. Because we let Bor, Sharga and Tenger run free, Bor goes off the path in search of grass and crashes into trees with his equipment. We are lucky because this time the load does not fall. “You should lead Bor the rest of the pass,” I say, whereupon Tanja takes Bor on the lead rope. “When do you think the stream will come?” Tanja asks hours later after we have already covered 45 kilometers on horseback today. “According to my GPS, in five kilometers. I think we should see yurts in the valley on the other side of the hilltop,” I reply, hoping that the stream will carry water again this year. We can actually see the round white specks in the green valley spreading out in front of us. “There you see? Just like I said,” I say, relieved.

“Saijn bajna uu (Good afternoon) Our horses need water. Is there a stream in this valley?” I ask a woman who is standing in front of her yurt and spreading out aruul (fresh curd) on the yurt roof to dry. “But yes. There’s fresh water just a few hundred meters further on in the hollow there,” I hear with relief. I wave to Tanja to drive the horses to the hollow. “This is a brilliant place for our camp,” I say after 50 kilometers of riding, groaning as I get off the saddle. As soon as our legs touch the ground, a man comes running towards us with his two small sons. After the usual questions about where we come from, where we are going, what country we are from and what we are actually doing in Mongolia, the man called Gangsuch has his brother bring him a whole bucket of mare’s milk. He immediately pours a bowl full and hands it to me. “For refreshment,” he says with a friendly grin. Although mare’s milk takes some getting used to for a European stomach, we comply with the request and drink the drink, which is rich in fat and vitamins. “It’ll be fine,” I say, looking at Tanja, who hasn’t had the best experiences with this on previous trips. Then the Mongolians help us set up the tent. “Great tent”, they praise again and again and laugh because they have never seen a fabric house like this before. As soon as our accommodation is ready, they leave us alone again. “The Airag?” Tanja Gangsuch calls after her. “It’s for you,” he says with a laugh. The Airag gives you strength. “For us? But a whole bucket full is far too much, isn’t it?” “What you don’t drink today you can enjoy tomorrow,” he replies and walks on. “Jackpot again,” I say, looking at Gangsuch. “What do you mean by jackpot?” asks Tanja. “Well, we’ve found another family with great Mongolian hospitality.” “You can say that again,” says Tanja cheerfully.

As the sun sinks at the end of the valley, the sky turns blood red where it seems to touch the mountains. Further up, the vibrant color fades to a golden band, which in turn is replaced by a bright goblin blue interspersed with glittering stars. Then the darkness descends completely over the valley. The Milky Way shines down on us between the floating towers of clouds as if the billions of points were connected to the power supply. The blackness of the night brings sub-zero temperatures at an advanced hour and lets us slide deeper into our sleeping bags. “We should stay here for a day tomorrow,” I say before my eyes drift shut. “Do you think so?” “Yes. The people in this valley seem very nice. We should stay where people are as welcoming as here and not where we planned,” I think. “It’s a good decision. I feel very comfortable here too,” Tanja replies, yawning.

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