The official membership of the United Airag League |
I was comfortably settled back in UB, post-tank concussion, nearly fully recovered from my hangover. My Russian visa would start in a couple days. But something was missing, and I knew exactly what it was.
I had experienced brief thrills galloping free, but they had been too fleeting. Most of both horse treks had been spent in a slow walk, worrying about gear, directions, thieves, and accidentally eating flies. Mendee, my fixer, had a ranch outside of the city where tourists could stay for as long as they like and ride any of his horses. It was where I'd bought my horse, and where Pete and Brad had prepared for their grueling 6 week solo adventures.
Shanties of UB. Pic by Daniel Leu |
Then, just a bit further and suddenly you pop out of a wormhole, surrounded by nothingness. Nothing but the sprawl of that beautiful green Mongolian plain. Distant wood-covered hills, endless blue sky. The transition is so abrupt that it leaves your head spinning.
We turned the corner and the last vestige of the modern world, the train tracks, vanished. And only 20 minutes later, we pulled off the dirt "highway" and cruised up a grass-covered road to the ranch. A few smoking gers appeared with their colorful painted doors. Young foals and their mothers whinnied at our car. At the crest of the hill a free-roaming herd of horses raised their heads to inspect us.
I can think of no place in the world where a drive of 20 minutes can transport you between such distant universes. Here, away from the city, was the real Mongolia.
Airag Run #1
In the afternoon Pete announced he was going for an airag run. The Dutch couple agreed: this was a wonderful idea. And I still hadn't sold Rocky yet so I also had a set of wheels. We saddled up, Pete circled his horse back to make sure we looked OK. And then, without warning he kicked his horse and took off down the hill. The Dutch guy whooped and took off followed by his girlfriend. I was left in the dust, but wasted no time in giving chase.
We ran down the firm hill, Pete galloping at full speed. I kicked and choo'ed Rocky, trying to get him to keep up. But within a few minutes it was clear that my horse was no race-car. Pete and the Dutch couple grew further and further ahead, running towards a ger in the valley below. I saw them all arrive, hitch-up, and begin stretching their legs. Finally I got there, Rocky huffing and puffing. No one said anything impolite about my pokey ride, but it was pretty clear I had been so slow that they'd been forced to wait on me. Damn.
We knocked on the door and were invited in. As guests we sat on the left (right-hand of the father). The whole family had arrived to greet us: Paw, Maw, uncles, aunts, a couple sons, and 3 daughters. Let's call the daughters slim, not-so-slim, and beef-cake. With so much family piled on the same side, it was a bit of tight squeeze, especially when beef-cake arrived. The others tried in vain to make room for her, but eventually she just picked a spot and "floomp", she plunged in.
Surprisingly one of the girls of the family spoke German. The Dutch guy also spoke German and soon was explaining that we wanted some airag. It was pretty funny to be honest. We all conversed in English, gave our decision to a Dutch guy who communicated it in German, and then the girl translated this to the rest of the family in Mongolian. And then it would all go in reverse.
Airag fermenting in a cow stomach. Yum!! |
After dipping the finger, you then offer the vodka to the Blue Sky spirit (by flicking a drop above), to the Wind spirit (flick a drop to the side), and to the Earth spirit (flick a drop to the floor). And then, of course, you are expected to drink the shot! Supposedly it's also OK to touch your forehead with the finger instead of drinking, but then the Mongolians think you are a wimp.
So the bottle was passed around and the ritual was repeated, to much laughter from our hosts as we kept screwing it up. Dried yogurt and cookies were also passed around, as our Dutch friend continued to explain who we were and where we were all from. After a bit of this there was a bunch of giggling from the women. My Dutch friend turned to me and said, "She thinks you are cute." Then he indicated beef-cake.
Ah, em. Huh. I smiled politely. She grew very red and asked the Dutch boy a question.
Ah, em. Huh. I smiled politely. She grew very red and asked the Dutch boy a question.
"Are you married?" I knew where this was headed. In a few moments I patiently explained I was single, had no children, yes I had a job, I wasn't crazy, I just hadn't met the right woman, etc. etc. to fascination from the entire family. Beef-cake was clearly a bit uncomfortable with her seat and so got up and attempted to sit on another piece of the bench. As she sat down, it collapsed with a loud "Crack!" and all the women tumbled onto the floor in a pile of clothes and flesh.
Silence. Then, Paw began laughing hysterically. I felt horrible for beef-cake but I couldn't help myself. I was drunk, it was hilarious, and I was biting my lip trying to hold back. I was not alone, it was the same for the everyone in the ger. Ah, poor beef-cake. Well, there are plenty of fish in the sea, or perhaps I should say yaks in the field.
We finally emerged from the ger to a sun setting atop the hills. The air was crisp, we were giddy and drunk, and we knew we were about to race. The great thing about drinking and riding is that you could be blitzed, but the horse is still sober. You never have to worry about a designated driver. After a short bit of trotting, everyone took off across the field and back up the hill. Rocky tried his best but it wasn't long before he fell back to a trot, and then a walk. I arrived alone and in the dark.
Home on the Range
Mendee's dad entertains us with magic tricks. |
Pete borrows my Mongol guitar and manages to coax a respectable Dave Matthews song out of it |
I couldn't believe it. I was getting the chance to ride a rancher's horse. The cream of the cream. I nodded, "Thanks Mendee! I'll be careful." Sweeeeeeet!
It was my final day. Pete had just left for his adventure, and so I was alone with the Dutch couple. We saddled up, and began climbing the ridge to pick out our destination for the day. Immediately I noticed a huge difference. Rocky would always lag behind, and took a lot of encouragement to get going. But not this horse. Without a word or kick, as soon as I pushed up to trot the horse took off in a trot. We went straight up the mountain at a fast clip, and soon I was in the lead. My Dutch friend tried to catch up, but my horse sped up as well. I quickly realized that my horse liked to be in front.
This was going to be awesome.
We reached the crest and spotted a ger far in the distance. We began our descent, and when we reached the plain we all began to run. But my horse didn't just run. As soon as I picked my butt up out of the saddle and leaned, it took off like a bolt of lightning. HOLY SHIT!! I thought as my hat flew off and my eyes teared. This was a fast horse! For the first time in the month I'd been in Mongolia, not only was I riding atop a galloping horse, but I was racing neck and neck with 2 other horses. It was an absolute adrenalin rush. We raced across the plain, and soon found ourselves in a vast field of white flowers. They flew past, blurring into one another. It was unreal.
Late that afternoon, I wandered up the ridge by myself to enjoy a few last moments here. A storm began to roll in, and soon the landscape took on an incredible color. Dark skies above, evening sunshine below. It was that rare light of Mongolia that makes everything pop. The wind came up, chilling and refreshing. Clouds rolled by, making shapes of dragons and monkeys.
The incredible colors of cloud and sun. Only in Mongolia |
Mongolia, land of imagination, I will be back someday.
Mendee's Tours and Horse-Riding: http://stepperiders.mn/
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