Army man, where am I? - Day 5 Solo

Mongolian saddle

I stop at one ger in a cluster of three. The man of the family took off for Ulaan-uul. Three hours ride, they say. He works for the army. Before departing, he said something like, You can sleep here tonight, and we will see each other tomorrow in Ulaan-uul. Or maybe that was mostly my imagination. The sleep invitation came late, but the food came quickly. A storm was brewing, which caused me worry about my saddle and bags, but it soon dissipated.
No mother present. After the father departed, the daughter searched and searched in my phrasebook for something. I spoke to her many times, but never did she speak to me. After a long while she found what she was looking for: luggage. Her brother came with me to help with my saddle.

She fed me shöl - the best I have had, with thicker noodles. Then came goat entrails served up, of which I ate only a bit of liver. Plenty of tea and aaryyl. I am beat. Today has been a long day. After the short break at the unfriendly woman's place, I asked directions a bit further on. A fat woman, jolly to perfection, pointed to the horizon. It is hit or miss with each ger you seek out. Roll the dice and see what you get.

I just washed up at the drying up river. One neighbor came to watch, then rode off to the other ger. The cold water felt good on my face.

I try to pinpoint or even guestimate our position on the map. But I can't do it. The topo of the map does not match what I see: mountains to the east and west. But where they tell me we are has only one or two mountains shown on the map. I must have come a different road than I thought.

I cross a small river flowing east to west at 11:30 and then a large river flowing north-south at about noon. That was an anxious moment! I asked a man transporting his ger in a truck if I had to cross to go on to Ulaan-uul. Yes, crossing the river would put me on the trail to that town. I didn't dare video the crossing. Too treacherous. I made it safely, but regret not filming.
On the other side of the river a truck passes me from the other direction transporting many head of reindeer. Maybe to take to the nearby tourist ger camp. Here the road branches. I ask a man with a long belly scar the way. A woman points back across the river! But another go-round of questioning yields a consensus: follow the river. So I do.