Home » Mongolia » Heading out in the desert with sleepy and snaily

Early morning (and painful) wake up for us, but we feel excited at the idea of heading out into the wilderness. Xinthia, the Australian girl I mentioned earlier, was also meant to leave this morning for the Gobi but due to the fact that the girl she was supposed to travel with found herself a boyfriend during the night and wished to remain, she asked to come with us.
<br/> <br/>

Heading out in the desert with sleepy and snaily

Degrubenc
2005-12-09 13:55:04

Displayed times (last time: )

Tamoroa rode like a natural and showed us how to do it on those saddles. I renamed every horse, as I could not remember their actual names: mine was Moho (in regards to his mohican haircut), Bene’s was Peter (after my pony at Wellington who looked just like him) and Snaily’s was Muly (because she carried all the bags and kit). The Mongolian horses are incredible creatures, they are small but very responsive and terribly fast, with an acceleration from 0 to 60 miles per hour in 5 seconds flat. One only had to say “thiuu” and off they went at great speed. I could barely try to hang on for dear life, as well as to the saddle and my straw hat, without forgetting my camera. The horses could canter up a huge hill at incredible speed and be at the top begging for some more while you are trying to shield and readjust your manhood. I read later in the guide book that only complete nutters would even consider sitting in a Mongolian saddle and, by god, they were right. After three hours of thorough thrashing, we decided to stop and make camp. We gathered shit
for the fire (there is no wood in the Mongolian steppes, only shit, yak shit is better than horse's but horse also works; has to be nice and dry, works surprisingly well, yak’s is a bit smelly but lasts longer than horse's). Bene and I went for a swim in the lake and when we returned, it started raining. The tent we had brought along with us was a one man tent, which we were going to use to store bags and food. We imagined that we would sleep every night under the clear stars by the shit fire (endless amounts of jokes were found on this topic). It poured heavily, so we retreated to the tent, all four of us in a one man tent. We gave our guide a bottle of vodka as a gift; he offered us a few drops each and promptly drunk the rest. He soon fell asleep, nursing his empty bottle. He is a very nice chap but has not yet caught on the idea of washing so, on this evening, he earned his nickname of Stinky, to the point where I went to sleep outside, in the rain, instead of inside the tent,
next to Stinky’s feet.