Renchilkhumbe

Making camp fire is a challenge I want to prove myself equal to. It ain't always easy, especially in the wind. This morning the dinner pot was soaking 200 meters distant near the pool of water where I left it upon washing up last night. So I had to get it, wash it, bring it back and make the fire before someone else beat me to it. You can't very well make the fire first if you don't have a pot to boil on it, because by the time you go get the pot, the fire may go out. But it is not so windy this morning and breakfast is soon ready.

A gorgeous day, sunny and warm. I had left camp prepared for a downpour, rain pants, jacket and knit cap. But by 2 pm. I had shed those items. To our backs was a beautiful view of the jagged peaks of the mountain range.
 
I am beat. We stay in White House guest house in Renchilkhumbe. Somehow I hurt the back of my right hand. It has begun to swell. Maybe from tugging on the reins.

Tonight's dinner: horhog. A man comes by with a sheep and butchers it. Heat stones in a pressure cooker then add the meat and cook for about 40 minutes. It is rather fatty meat.

Over the Pass

Awaa at top of pass bodes well for travelers

Wow, what a day! The weather broke as we decamped. Should have put on my heavy orange jacket and rain pants. I didn't realize we were going over the 2500 meter pass today. First we had a bit of rain. But further on, we hit a hail storm. I wore my cloth gloves, but my hands froze.

At the top of the pass we got off our horses. I couldn't unzip my pants to pee, my hands were so cold. We walked down the other side, the weather warming with every stride. Soon we reached the beginnings of the Darkhad Depression, where we made camp along side a wide dry riverbed.

Vehicles use the riverbed as a road, and as dusk fell we were visited by three motorcycles, each with two riders. They were goldminers returning home. It was our turn to play host, serve tea and a little food.

I told the man with the antlers that I was in the market to buy a deel, the traditional Mongolian overcoat. He offered to sell his to me for 25,000 tg, or about $17. The next morning the price came down to 20,000, but I declined the offer, because the buttons were missing. His demonstration of using a twig as a substitute for a button had little impact.

Official's Ger

Mutton hanging from ger rafters

Day 2. Left camp at 10:20. Made camp at 4:30. Stopped an hour to repack the packhorse. This will be a recurring problem. Also, I fell off my horse when trying to mount. The cinches were loose.

I woke at 7 and made fire. Not easy to even light the candle in the wind. I made noodles with dried meat, which we will eat often.

I had to stop to retie my sleeping bag on my saddle. Rule: when you are sure you have tied your knots as tiight as possible, tighten them some more.

The official rode out to meet us as Bamba retied the baggage. Nearby was a river where we watered the horses, then we rode to the official's ger, where he lived with his wife and two daughters. M mused how they would ever find husbands in such a remote location.

This official logged the passing of people headed north along this route. We signed in, ate bread and curds, fotoed all we wanted and rode on.

Today I rode with my camera sitting in my chest harness. This worked well.

Three of the horses all got that bouncy, jerky head movement during today's ride. I wonder what causes that. It's annoying.

Yesterday I finished mending the tent bag. It was severely torn by the frightened pack horse the second day out of Khatgal.

Horse bite! I held the pack horse steady as B. and E. readied the baggage. I talked to her the whole while, more to ease my tension than hers. All was going fine until the end, when she suddenly turned her head and nipped my inner thigh. But no skin broken.

I show the map to B. As the crow flies today's distance looks much shorter than that of yesterday. But E. says we made about 30 km today.

Out of Khatgal

Finally made it out of Khatgal. We left on our horses at 11:30 and rode for four hours, looked for water to make camp, but found none, then rode on for another five minutes. Found a bog as our water source and made camp.

Events along the trail: met an Israeli who was returning from Tsaatan country. The Tsaatan are a reindeer herding people who live in teepees and are shamanists. They are the reason many travellers make the trek further into the taiga, the forested area of this region. It is our reason, too. The Israeli rode north along the western bank of Khovsgol Lake, where lots of tourist gers are located. He rode 10 days in, 6 days back on a shorter route through the mountains, known as the logging route. This is the route are taking. I would have preferred to ride along the lake, and I thought that is where we were headed, but Bamba, our guide, never veered back towards the lake.

Another Mongol in for the Ride

Still in Khatgal. E has recruited a Mongolian friend to ride with us. The great fear here is of horse thieves, and those two stand a much better chance of warding of thieves since they speak the language.

But we could not depart today as expected. E's friend had work to do with rounding up his horses and returned late in the day. So we will set out north tomorrow.

Good and Better News

E and M, my riding partners arrived in Khatgal on Monday evening. They were tired, cold at night, ran out of provisions, but relied on the hospitality of the ger and other riders to make it here.

The better news is that miraculously they found by accident the tent poles. The extra tent I had ordered from Moron I was able to sell to a Dutch couple who had lost theirs. Their tent fell unseen from their packhorse.

Khatgal Day Four

Still in Khatgal waiting for E and M to join me with the four horses.

Yesterday ordered a tent from Moron, but it arrived without the flycover and far too few stakes.

A second ordered tent arrived today. It too was missing a dozen stakes, but it looks like I have no other options. The guesthouse has offered many 5 inch nails as a substitute.

But the find of the day was an authentic English riding helmet. Ask and ye shall find. One man had two, and one of them happened to be a perfect fit.

I ve met others who have fallen from their horses and lost equipment that has fallen from the packhorse. Rider beware.