Bayan Ulgii, Western Mongolia - present day -

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It is early April; the freezing cold creeps through my clothes, intensifying when I walk in the shade. The average temperature during the day sits at a modest minus twelve degrees Celsius, plummeting past minus twenty at night. Nonetheless, the sun shines most days as the countryside sees little rain. In rural places that can change in a heartbeat, blizzards and sandstorms race across the land. Several years ago, a single sandstorm killed a million animals and eighteen shepherds. 

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Upon my arrival at the guesthouse, an elderly man lets me in. His name is Ashim, and his kind spirit makes me feel right at home. Here in western Mongolia, the dominant culture is Kazakh, a Muslim minority in Mongolia. I came into contact with the Muslim culture and heritage before. It always makes me feel like an explorer setting foot into a new world. I have great respect for their norms and way of life, which feels exotic to me. 

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In this Kazakh community, I hope to buy the animals for my expedition. Traveling with animals is new to me but I am confident through my preparations that I have packed everything I need. It is however impossible for me to comprehend what awaits me. The outdoors is not for the faint hearted. It’s a place where you pay with your life for your mistakes. I packed a wooden stick to fend off wolves or crazed dogs — or even shepherds trying to steal my horses at night for that matter — Ask Tim Cope. The blizzards and sandstorm are a danger on their own. But it is the sheer vastness of this country that has to be dealt with carefully. In case I physically suffer there might be nobody to call as I could be over one hundred kilometers from any civilization.

 

So, in order to know if the plans for my adventure are feasible, I will meet Ashim’s brother-in-law tomorrow, the camel guru — at least that is what I call him. He will tell me if my plans are workable at this time of year. Spring in Mongolia is tough on the horses. The countryside is arid and devoid of grass. The large grass reserves that herders collected during the summer and fall are almost depleted by now, making it even more difficult to feed the horses. But that is a worry for later. 

 

Now, I prepare myself for a desperately needed good night’s rest. I just went through a twenty-six-hour bus ride where a drunk Mongolian card player decided to use me as his personal mattress when he ploughed his lifeless body onto mine in the middle of the night. There was nothing I could do to wake this drunk up from his much-needed rest, only until the bus stopped for a short break in the early morning...