Setting off for the coldest region of Mongolia

Day: 88

Sunrise:
07:47

Sunset:
18:20

As the crow flies:
6,91

Daily kilometers:
10

Total kilometers:
787

Soil condition:
Gravel/meadow/stones

Temperature – Day (maximum):
8°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
minus 2°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 8°

Latitude:
49°42’160”

Longitude:
100°13’502”

Maximum height:
1495 m above sea level

Time of departure:
17:00

Arrival time:
19:00

Bilgee wakes up in the morning with a rueful smile. “Oglooniimend” (“Good morning”) is how we greet him. “Oglooniimend. Saihan amarsan uu?” (“Did you sleep well?”) he asks us cheerfully. “Saihan amarlaa?” (“Did you sleep well?”) we reply. “Saihan amarlaa”, (“I slept well”) he replies as if nothing had ever happened. “Phew, looks like he’s really back to his old self,” I whisper as Bilgee goes outside to wash his face and hands after his 24-hour coma sleep. “Are you fit? We’re finally starting today,” I ask as he re-enters the yurt. “Off to Tsagaan Nuur,” he replies, full of zest for action. Tanja and I look into each other’s eyes with great relief. “Off to Tsagaan Nuur!” we shout, full of enthusiasm and anticipation for an expedition section that we will certainly never forget in our lives.

A cold wind blows around the yurt, blowing fine dust through the smoke hole into our dwelling. The star, which has been so radiant so far, has hidden behind a wall of gray clouds. We realize that there has been an extremely unpleasant drop in temperature. “Will the weather recover?” asks Tanja, looking into the dense mass of clouds that has arched over the wide valley and Mörön. “Who knows? The temperature had to drop at some point,” I reply. Bilgee, Tanja and I work like busy bees. Even though dismantling a yurt like this is relatively quick, it takes a lot of energy to actually break up the place we’ve been staying for the last three weeks. We drag the last boxes into Saraas shed and fill it to the roof. There are a total of 46 boxes measuring approx. 40 × 40 cm. We heave three large aluminum boxes into Saraa’s log cabin. They contain a laptop, batteries, chargers, small and large solar panels, lots of cables, a few travel guides, spare film and photo cameras and a bunch of other valuable stuff. Then we take another critical look at what we need to take with us. In total, there are four large XXL duffel bags and four very hard-wearing courier bags. Each of us has two saddlebags and a banana. This is a banana-shaped bag sewn from water-repellent material that lies behind the saddle on the horse’s back. We will stow our gloves, hat, warm jacket and overtrousers there. That is all. Just yesterday I decided to take a laptop, a 60 amp car battery and a large but very light and effective solar panel with me. So I hope that our power supply for the headlamps, cameras and film camera as well as for the laptop is secured. We will see if the sun sends us enough energy rays.

After we have cleared everything out of the yurt, Bilgee and I roll up the carpet and linoleum floor and pack the two rolls so that they fit into the four-wheel drive bus that will follow us to Tsgaan Nuur. It takes us until late afternoon to pack the equipment so that we can finally load it onto the horses’ backs. Although we have limited ourselves enormously, the individual duffel bags and courier bags have become heavy. Even though we were assured that we wouldn’t need more than 10 days to cover the distance to Tsagaan Nuur, we brought one pack of freeze-dried food per person for three weeks and thus had a safety reserve. Bread, cookies, chocolate, spreads, canned fish etc. are calculated for 100 km. Then we should have reached the village of Khatgal where we can restock our supplies.

As usual, Bilgee spits into his hands and gets down to business. It takes another two hours until all the animals are saddled and loaded. Because it’s already minus 4° we slip into our Deels and for the first time on the trip into our oversized winter boots developed for the Arctic. A bit of an exaggeration, I admit, but we couldn’t find room for it in the duffel bags. So we put the clothes on and can immediately test how warm it feels in them. Then the time has come. At 17:00 the horses are ready to go in the yard. We hug Saraa for the last time for a long time. “Thank you so much for your help. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you,” I say, hugging her to me. “Don’t worry about your equipment. I’ll take care of it. It will arrive in Tsagaan Nuur unharmed,” she says. “Thank you again!” we shout, open the gate and lead the horses out onto the dusty road.

We walk the first few hundred meters so that the horses get used to their new loads. With our astronaut-sized shoes, walking is not easy at all. “It takes some getting used to,” I say to Tanja, who is leading her Naraa and Mogi, who is wearing a muzzle much to his displeasure, next to me. “I thought it was just me,” she replies, laughing cheerfully at the late but successful departure. I pull Sar and the packhorses Sharga and Bor behind me, shuffling. Bilgee follows us with Tenger and Od. Od seems to be a problem case. As he has never carried any loads apart from a rider, he was reluctant to be loaded. Because of his stubborn behavior and because he can go off like a rocket at any moment, the experienced Bilgee takes care of him. According to Bilgee, Naraa is really pregnant. But he said we could safely take them with us on the trip. Relying on his expert advice, we trusted him and took Tanja’s fantastic riding horse with us.

As we walk through the alleyways of the town with our six horses, its inhabitants look after us curiously. At one of the wide, dusty crossroads, we agree to climb up from here. However, due to my heavy and thick deel, the fat shoes and the large camera that I have strapped to my stomach like an Indian mother, I am so clumsy that I don’t have the slightest chance of hoisting myself into the saddle. My attempts to land on my horse’s back are downright grotesque. Bilgee immediately rushes over and offers me his strong hand from the opposite side of the horse. With a joint effort, we get the German in his Mongolian knight’s armor onto the horse. I think I hear a groan as I plop into Sar’s cross. “Well, that’s going to be fun. How am I supposed to get down again? And what seems even more difficult to me… How will I manage to get into the saddle in the future without Bilgee’s help?” I moan, almost a little disheartened. “You’ll get used to the weight,” says Tanja with a grin. “I can’t imagine. The most disturbing thing is the camera on my stomach. It has to go on the back. But how do I take photos then? Man, man, man. Always a new challenge,” I moan, urging my Sar on.

Bilgee now rides ahead. He looks impressive with his rifle on his back, dressed in his summer coat and leading the heavily laden packhorse. Somehow he strikes me as one of Genghis Khan’s warriors. Somehow I have the feeling that we are stepping through a time window into a long-forgotten world. In the gloomy light of the falling day, I can feel the gazes of children and their parents. Dogs bark and back away from the horses’ hooves. Tanja, dressed in her thick winter duster, a scarf over her face and a woolly hat, is indistinguishable from a Mongolian. My deel and cap also camouflage the European, making him look like a heavily armored warrior on his unwavering way to a region that few Mongolians voluntarily visit at this time of year. A cold breeze whirls the dust up the slope, higher and higher until it is swallowed up by the gray of the lowering clouds. Wrapped in our clothes, he can’t get to us. Are we not vulnerable to him? On the contrary, my armor, consisting of thick sheepskin and wool, gives me the deceptive belief that dirt, wind and, above all, no cold in the world can harm us. Ohhh how could I be wrong!

Slowly but steadily, the path leads us upwards and the lights of Mongolia’s fifth largest city become smaller and smaller. From time to time, I lethargically turn in the saddle because of the aforementioned heavy deel and look at the former trading center between Mongolia and Russia. I am glad to be able to turn my back on this dusty nest. Although we were well received and treated, I am happy to be able to continue our interesting and exciting journey. Just the idea of having to spend my entire life here makes my hair stand on end. What freedom Tanja and I have. We are allowed to visit places in which they live and, when we have seen enough, move on to regions that are completely unknown to us. Regions and places whose names already sound exciting and promising. “Tsagaan Nuur here we come,” I whisper and feel the tingling energy rising in my body.

“Is Bilgee freezing?” I ask myself, as we don’t think he’s properly equipped for this expedition. “Does he know what he’s doing?” We did give him a tent, a sleeping mat, five horse blankets and a 2 × 2 meter felt blanket, but will that be enough to survive the cold that is supposedly coming soon? Well, we’ll see. In the meantime, the cold wind has picked up. The remaining light of the day is absorbed by the ever-lengthening shadows of the ever-higher mountains. The ground is covered with yellow-brown grass and countless stones. Cattle try to find something to eat on the dead grazed land. “Doesn’t look good,” I say to Bilgee, pointing at the gnawed hills around us. “Ügüj”, (“No”). “What do you think of that hillside up ahead?” he asks me. “It will be difficult to set up our tents there. But let’s ride there,” I reply. The hooves of our animals stumble over the sea of stones. It is impossible to pitch a tent at the site in question. Unless you have the desire to be a fakir and love sleeping on sharp stones. It is dark when Bilgee rides into a ravine to look for a place to spend the night. “We are protected from the salhi (“wind”) down there,” he says. Bachgui Us “No water”, I point out, whereupon we turn our backs on the gorge again. Although we only left Mörön two hours ago, we find ourselves in the middle of an adventure without a net or any kind of protection. “We should stay there,” I suggest as we reach a patch of dried-up meadow. At minus 8° we set up our tents with stiff fingers. After Bilgee has tied up two horses each with a sharp iron peg, he tries to heat a little water for our freeze-dried food on the Chinese gas stove with Tanja. Meanwhile, I click Mogi with a carabiner to a stake that has also been driven into the ground and take off his muzzle. He jumps up like a goat, thanks me and would love to race off to make the area unsafe. I quickly put a horse blanket in the tent, get our sleeping mats inside, inflate them, spread my Deel on top with the fur side up, drag the car battery inside to put it next to my sleeping mat. Then I fetch the laptop and wrap it in the sleeping bag I’ve also unrolled because of the cold. Later I will try to bring it back up to operating temperature with my body heat. This way I can enter my notes into the device after eating. This has already worked many times on the way from Erdenet to Mörön.

After our fabric house is prepared for the coming night, I join Tanja and Bilgee. They sit in front of the small vestibule of his tent and are thus protected from the disgustingly cold wind. “Pretty cold,” says Tanja. “Are you freezing in your deel?” “No, but my fingers and my face,” she replies. As Tanja has always had an immense respect for extreme cold and this was also the reason why she had long resisted spending the winter in extreme regions, I wonder how she will cope in the coming months. “We are very well equipped. I think the cold is manageable,” I say. “Yes, I think so too,” she replies. Hungry, we spoon our food out of the bag and see the lights of Mörön shimmering up at us in the not too distant distance. “We didn’t get very far,” says Tanja. “Well, at least we’ve set off. That’s already a big step. I think we can be very satisfied.” “That’s right,” Tanja agrees and asks: “We don’t have enough gas cartridges for the stove, do we?” “No. It will be enough for two or three meals. Then we’ll need firewood,” I reply thoughtfully. “Hope we can find a camp site with firewood tomorrow.” “We’re on the edge of the taiga here. We’ll find enough wood in the coming days,” we understand Bilgee. “And what about water? I mean, if it gets any colder, won’t the streams and rivers freeze over?” Tanja concludes. “Then we break out the ice and thaw it in our pots,” Bilgee replies, knowing the answer to every situation.

Having eaten a quick meal, we flee from the unpleasant darkness into our tents. But before that, we’ll talk about the guard shifts we’ll be starting again today. In my sleeping bag, I wedge the icy laptop between my feet and wait for it to warm up. But it’s so cold that I’m about to lose my body temperature without warming up the technical crap. It takes 45 minutes before I think I can switch it on. Then I use my night shift today, which lasts until midnight, to write about the day’s experiences.

We look forward to your comments!