I had a rough night of sleep. As in not much of it. Between reindeer shaking my tent, trying not to slide downhill on my air mattress and keeping warm, I was awake for most of the night. When I do wake, it’s to the sound of birds, grunting reindeer, a youngster crying and dogs barking. I’m not the only one that struggled with sleep as the boys were sliding all over the place in the tepee. Padraig was worried he was going to roll into the stove every time he turned over and John was partway out the door flap.
Unuruu exits her tent and I wish her a good morning and ask how she slept. I don’t know why I do this because every morning the answer is the same – “I slept excellent!” I’ve come to the conclusion this woman can sleep anywhere and am envious. I’ve seen her sleeping balanced precariously on a log, on the back of a horse and in the Beast when it’s bouncing along a potholed road. How does she do that??
I find out that it was the main herder’s birthday yesterday. He’s turned a youthful fifty so I present him with a chocolate and marshmallow cookie in celebration. He accepts the gift with two hands while grinning appreciatively, bows slightly and brings the package to his forehead in thanks.
We’re leaving the reindeer family this morning so we pack up and get the horses loaded. We’ll visit another family that have a very small herd and then decide where to camp for the night. We say our goodbyes to the families and the main herder tells Unuruu that I’m “hearty” which I think means a hard worker. I take photos of the families outside of their tepees and promise that I’ll print off photos and give them to Narankhuu who will bring them next time he visits. When I look at the photos it reminds me of old black and white photographs taken in the 1800’s of Indigenous people in the US. We’ve stepped back in time. The herders still live an ancient nomadic life and being here one forgets there’s a climate crisis, a war going on, forest fires ripping through towns and the everyday bullshit we get bogged down with that really doesn’t matter.
We arrive at the new reindeer camp and find it deserted of people so we eat lunch using their washtub as a table and wait to see if they return. After thirty minutes there’s no family in sight so we opt to continue on and find a camping spot on the plains where the ground is dry.
Another couple hours of riding and we stop for a rest. It’s the hottest day so far and the horses have had to climb and descend the mountains several times. Kitchen horse immediately sinks to his belly and starts munching as soon as we stop. After he’s eaten the grass within neck reach, he rises and finds a new spot to plop down. The other horses are tied by their lead ropes and don’t get the luxury of eating or laying down.
Narankhuu finds a camping spot but determines there isn’t enough water for us or the horses and the ground is wet so we continue on. This will be our longest riding day yet at nine hours. We ride in mostly silence, alone with our thoughts, and pick up the conversation during our rest stops. We make our way through plains filled with purple and yellow flowers and deep green grass in the baking sun. Summer cabins are padlocked and the curtains drawn. Corrals and pit toilets dot the countryside. My horse prefers to be near the front, laying back his ears and nipping at rumps if another horse tries to pass him. I rein him in, telling him to be nice.
As we near another camping spot along a river, the horses pick up the pace. They have obviously stayed here before and are anxious to have their saddles removed and roll in the grass after a long day. We’re in a valley with a pyramid-shaped mountain topped with leafless trees to the West.
We erect our tents and make up our beds before relaxing while waiting for dinner. We’re getting low on food but Unuruu has managed to create delicious meals regardless.
This is Day 5 of wearing the same clothes and using wet wipes to “bathe”. To say I’m smelly is an understatement but we’re all in the same boat so it doesn’t matter. I’ve started wearing my shirt inside out so the filthy side isn’t showing. I haven’t looked in a mirror in over a week or used a brush on my hair. Out here it doesn’t matter what you look like, it’s how you conduct yourself.
Our time out here is soon ending and a feeling of sadness washes over me. Although I’m looking forward to a shower and not freezing my ass off while sleeping, I’ll miss the quiet, the open spaces and the amazing people we’ve met along the way. I feel like I’m just getting the hang of riding again for it to be finished.
