Morning light filled the ger as wild horses ran past the door. Our host was extremely thankful for the $3 we gave as a thank you. We walked across the deceptively large plains to a beautiful lake. It took 3 times longer than we expected, so we thought we deserved a nap by the lake. We climbed a mountain by the lake, stopping for dance breaks several times as we walked through the yellow and purple wildflowers.
The view from the top was spectacular, endless empty plains and mountains in every direction. As we climbed down, another storm chased us towards a ger. We stuck out heads in and no questions asked, were told to sit down and drink some warm salty milk and yak butter on bread. We chased the children around the fields, kicking a bottle and patting horses until the sun finally set. We lay down on the floor until they got the hint that it was past our camping bedtime.
The next morning we were treated to more salty milk, hoof-filled dumplings and some dried yak curd which made me gag and run outside, hitting my head on the way out. Food really isn't Mongolia's strong point. We walked towards the road and stick out our thumbs hopefully. After being rejected by the first few sparse 4wds, 2 motorbikes pulled up and we jumped on one each.
We roared thought the valleys, my bedazzled cap casting shimmering light onto my young motorcyclist's neck. As the wind chilled my bare arms, I wondered how a place like Mongolia still exists. Such a slow moving, gentle, nomadic place in an island between super giants Russia and China. I stared into the mountains, and felt like this was a pretty great way to spend my days.
Arriving in Moron once again, we met their expectant expressions with a few dollars for petrol, as is the norm in Mongolia. In town, we ran into a young Australian cycle tourer and together we searches for the one guy in town who spoke English. He informed us that the Nadaam festival we were chasing was in the town we just came from, so we backtracked to the lake and camped by a river.
The traditional festival consisted of all the "manliest sports", including guys wrestling in embroided underpants. The winner got a slap on his bum and his hat placed on his head before his celebratory eagle dance. A storm of dust revealed a stampede of horses ridden by tiny children towards a finish line. They galloped in, smug looks on the kids' faces under their backwards flatbrim caps.
A quick hitchhike later, we were back by the lake for a breathtaking swim in the perfect sunshine.
