One thing I dislike about depending on others is I'm the one with the agenda, not them. Yesterday (5/8) we went to the market to find a ride. No takers. We ended up waiting around for hours, I was getting frustrated. I wanted everything to go my way, time was wasting. Finally Gambaa located a man willing to make the drive for 80,000Tug ($55.) I thought it a bit expensive but Gambaa and Boloroo were coming along too and riding back that night. So I guess I was paying their roundtrip passage. Whatever.
So we disembarked at 1pm landing us in Khatgal by 5pm. The ride up was more of the same, bumpy washed out tracks in the mud. There appeared to be a proper highway in development but it was mostly blocked off by high mounds of gravel.
Upon our arrival in Khatgal we found no one prepared to accommodate tourists. I guess I got in early. Fine by me. I hate people. We dallied about, taking photos by ye olde Sukhbaatar boat and searching for drivers for my return. Again no takers. Finally my driver agreed to return next Sunday (5/16) and return to Muhrun for another 80,000Tug. Fine. We dined on Tsuuven before driving me over the bridge and seeing me off. Alone at last.
No offense to Gambaa and Boloroo. They're great people. Extremely generous, going above and beyond the call of duty. But I came here to get away from civilization for a time. A year struggle in the rough city has taken it's toll. I must acquire balance.
So I headed north along Elgin Gol (river.) By now it was about 6:30 (I have no time piece.) The light was getting long. Through larch forest with red brown needles covering the floor, an eagle takes flight. I'm choosing to interpret this a good omen. Near the river the land flattens, then turns marshy. Tussocks rise above soupy land. I was warned of this. Easy to slip and drench your feet. I was advised to wear condoms on my feet to keep out moisture. I failed to heed this warning and, schluuup, got wet. Sun down, I'm still in marshland. Heat fades quickly. I make it to woods edge and prepare camp. No cooking tonight. We just ate. Hunker down to read, then pass out.
Cold night. I get up in the middle to pee and see brilliant stars for the first time in months. Too cold to admire I jump back in tent , covering myself with bag liner for extra warmth. No avail. Sleep is fitful, punctuated by anxious dreams and paranoid auditory hallucinations. Mongolian Nazis await outside my camp with black surgical masks. Cows are eating my tent. I woke up to the sound of livestock approaching and poke my head out.
"Sain Baen Ew!"
A nice young man, brimming with curiosity, parks himself outside my tent to converse. I'm from America, I'm going to Khuvsguul, I'll be trekking for seven days (forgot to mention I've lost two days to transport issues.) Momentarily he departs to his daily duties. "Dza, Byarshtae." So different than city folk. Gentle, polite, curious, patient and respectful of privacy and property.
Make breakfast, break camp and I'm off. Day started with frost on the ground but quickly melts. My frozen shoes are burning as they thaw, then are wet again. More tussocks. Thankfully frozen. Then a strange sight, wood fence blocking prime viewing hillock. Must skirt it. Back to the river, looking good in a frozen way. Ahead another promising hillock and again fenced off. Trek around is greater this time. How disappointing.
Now it's noon and I'm atop a splendid outcropping. Below, is the lake. All around is silence. Finally there is peace. Soon I will march forward, but lie back, rest for now. Enjoy it while it lasts.
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