words from the world

if you want to read the beginning of the story, click here for Part 1 or here for Part 2 ...

At the beginning of my 6th trekking day, my pace gets slower and my blisters hurt me. At the end of the morning, a young Mongolian who brags astride his horse tackles me while I drag my painful feet. He will be the only real trouble throughout this expedition. He puts his horse in front of me and prevents me from going forward, he tries to open my bag and seizes the rope I hold my horse with. The situation starts to aggravate until we reach a herd of goats watched by one of his brother. I make him laugh and he enjoys looking at me, embarrassed. I finally offer him to walk back and to have a drink in his ger. When we arrive, his behaviour changes completely. His family and above all his father are kind and happy to share a bit of their time with a foreigner.



The situation has calmed down when I start again. Despite everything, I'm in a hurry to move away to forget this episode. But before climbing the hill which faces me, I hear the young braggart arriving at a gallop followed by another one of his brothers. This time, he wants to buy my horse. His calmer, elder brother understands I won't sell my horse and calm down his younger brother. At last, I leave the place and walk for a long time to camp as far as possible.


The next day, in the morning as I go on the side of the mountain, the spectre of the day before comes back when I see two young horsemen approaching. But, both of them have the kindness that characterizes the famous Mongolian hospitality.


I suffer and it's a pleasure to stop at the neighbouring house. In exchange for the usual photos, the family invites me for the lunch and for a rest.




I'll finally stay up to the next day in the morning. We watch together the wrestling final of the Naadam festival broadcasted on television. It's perhaps the main sport event of the year in Mongolia. In spite of the distance, every ger or house possesses an enormous satellite dish which lays down on the ground. The electricity is supplied by batteries which ones are loaded by a solar panel, a windmill or a generator. The anachronism of the solar panel laid down on the white cloth of the ger is fabulous. I give my fishing pole I haven't used yet. We improvise a fishing course in the middle of the steppes. Every member of the family I hardly know for a few hours adopted me and takes care of me as if I belong to the family.
Early in the morning, after warmly thanking them for their hospitality, I pack up my stuffs and start walking along the river.
The path is harder and harder and the rain complicates my progress, I've sometimes no other choice than walking into the river. The horse slips on the stones of the river bank. That's here, close to a green, hard-to-reach field, I take off its tie and drop the rope. I free my companion. I wish it delights a few days of freedom before he's probably captured. I disappear in the land of stones that erects in front of the river. The walk is rough in this unexplored, footprintless area.



After several hours, I begin to go down on the other slope of the hill. I reach a Ider Gol tributary where I sit down, exhausted. A few Mongolians tackle me and looking at my state of tiredom, invite me at their house. The atmosphear is warm and relaxed. It's here I decide to finish my trek.






I show all the different gears I carry in my backpack in front of the admiring eyes of about ten Mongolians. I feel well here, they cook an excellent dish for me and I prepare one of my freeze-dried meal with the boiled water coming from the camping stove. 2 of them share a "rice and fish in a provencal sauce" and they find it savoury.






The next day in the morning, I go to Tomorbulag by motorbike. Then, I take a jeep that drops me off in Möron. Did you know we could be 15 in a jeep?




In spite of the physical difficulty, the undernourishment and the loneliness, this adventure will have shown me virtues such as the mutual support, the hospitality and the pleasure of sharing are essential not to say vital. Communication problems ang cultural differences didn't scratch the happiness I lived with these families of the steppes. My heart will keep these smiles and this joie de vivre for a long long time.