Poor Sharon. We were in the middle of nowhere and she had just fallen off her horse and couldn’t move. We put up a tarp to shelter her from the sun and exchanged ideas. The sun was hot, all of us were emotionally strung out – especially Sharon’s husban, Noam – and a sense of helplessness was taking over. As the afternoon progressed we needed to think of something soon. Unc, our guide and I, rode to the closest dirt road possible. It was only a ten minute ride to the road, but we stood there for about an hour before someone came by. Through careful hand communication , Unc had explained to me that I should stand in the middle of the road and wave the vehicle down. They probably wouldn’t stop for a local horseman. True enough, they stopped for me. Unc explained in Mongolian that we had a serious situation a distance away and that we needed the jeep.
Fourteen people rustled out of the jeep and were kind enough to sell it to Noam and Sharon on the spot. She still couldn’t move out of her fetal position. She was screaming and crying as we loaded her into the jeep. We paid the fourteen people for their jeep and got back on our horses after a tense goodbye to the Israeli couple. We didn’t know if we were ever going to see them again. I promised them everything would be okay. I was going miss them both.
This whole situation started when we lost our second horse on the second morning of our trip. We spent nearly the entire day waiting around for the capture of Stephan’s horse. After hours of enjoying the free life some local horsemen caught it and put our trip back into action. Tim and I really liked one of the men, Unc, and through a lot of charades and our trusty Mongolian/English book, we convinced him to lead us to our final destination, Hatgal. We would pay him $5 each a day and feed him in exchange for his skills. Having struck a deal, we headed north again. To keep the horses from drifting off we had been tying their front legs together so that they could hop but not run, allowing them to eat through the night. Well those knots didn’t exactly work out, so we thought a local could do better.
We had been riding for a few hours and Tim and I were ahead of the gang when Unc came flying out of nowhere. He had note with him. It said something like, COME SOON, SHARON HURT HER BACK, and POSSIBLE EMERGENCY. It was signed by Noam. We quickly rode back and found out that she had attempted to get her camera while riding and the crackling of her coat scared the shit out of the horse. The horse freaked out, booted her off and she landed on her spine just above the butt. Tim and I thought she would be fine after a day of rest, but Noam and Sharon disagreed. They conversed in Hebrew while Tim the Yank, Stephan the Aussie and I discussed our options. That’s when Unc and I decided to flag down a jeep.
So at this point Tim, Stephan, Unc and I had three extras horses and three days of riding left to go. We attempted to sell the extra horses right away to some of the passengers from the jeep, but to no success. They all laughed at us as we trotted off on our way. We were in the middle of nowhere with a girl who could be very hurt and now I was riding a horse while dragging another behind me. Only a few days ago I didn’t even know how to get on a horse. No worries though, I was in Mongolia making a dream come true. The day was beautiful and it was clear that four in a group was more manageable then six. The geography that day was changing by the hour. We would be riding through swamps, then massive plains, forests and then cliffs on the side of lovely streams. It was unbelievable to me that within eight hours of riding so many variations of land were seen. At one point in the swamp I saw my first yak. Yaks are beasts that seriously look like they’ve come from another planet. They’re big, bushy mammals that vary in color. It was becoming so much fun. That night we stayed near a nomadic family and Tim and I went drunken spear fishing.
The next morning Unc woke us up early so that we could get to our final destination. He had everything packed and ready. Eight hours of riding later we rode into Hatgal exhausted. The trip was such a rollercoaster emotionally and physically, but we were thrilled and hunted down the closest restaurant. Tim had made friends with a guest house owner in Moron, so after stuffing our faces we looked for him. His name was Esee and he really helped us out. We stayed in a yurt with a fireplace and enjoyed his hospitality for five days. Home cooked meals and clean clothes were only a sample of what we enjoyed. Unfortunately, Unc had to go only a few hours after we arrived. We paid him generously, took photos, and I gave him some clothes I didn’t need any longer. This 20 year old really made the trip for us. As we finished our goodbyes, his emotions took over and tears streamed down his face. None of us will have an experience like that again, including him. He was a great guy.
A couple of days went by when we realized it was time to start wheeling and dealing. We had seven horses to sell and sell fast. Stephan and I wanted to head back to Ulan Baatar in two days, so Tim took action. The only way to do business in Mongolia is with multiple shots of vodka. By end of the first day Tim came back wasted but had successfully sold five horses. The only ones remaining were mine and Tim’s. Tim and I had grown quite close not because he was a fellow Yankee but because we had similar personalities. Stephan was the outcast and both of us had had enough of him. We went for one last trot around the surrounding area and it strangely reminded me of Maine. Homesickness was setting in as Tim and I attempted to fish. We were fishing from the 14th largest freshwater lake in the world and the view was eerily similar to Maine’s outdoors with pine trees and hills. I had been gone seven months and was missing my family more and more. The next day we sold our horses for $65 each, which was good since I paid $95 for mine.
The next day Stephan and I headed back to Ulan Baatar. I hugged Tim and promised to stay in touch. For the next 20 hours, Stephan and I had the pleasure of enjoying another filthy, bumpy, shitty ride in an old military style jeep, but this time two guys that Stephan and I named Mario and Luigi were driving. These two nuts forgot that there were passengers in the back, drove like maniacs and at one point started racing another jeep. With one unseen bump we surely would’ve been in trouble. In the jeep with us were four other Israelis; one of them ordered the vehicle to be stopped and freaked out on Mario. From then on the ride was a little smoother (by Mongolian standards anyway) and we cruised into the capital as morning arrived.
Stephan and I quickly enjoyed the luxuries of city life, using the internet and having nice hot showers. Stephan was already arranging another trip, this one to the Gobi desert, and I was trying to get my transit visa to Russia. We were staying at the same guest house from before and we got word that Noam and Sharon were still in town at the hospital. Naturally we went to visit and found Sharon in the exact same fetal position as 10 days ago! There had been no improvements. Noam explained to us that she had pinched a nerve connected to her spine and was very fortunate not to be permenantly paralyzed. They phoned home to Israel and a private plane was coming to pick them up. The hospital in Ulan Baatar had very little to offer and immediate attention was needed. Thankfully, they had good insurance and good luck. We said our goodbyes, exchanged handshakes, kisses and e-mail addresses and went on our way. I’m still in touch with all of them.
That crazy horse trip was the most demanding and taxing adventure I have ever done in my life. I did so many things that I never dreamed of before and on top of that was thrown into ridiculous situations like Sharon’s. It changed my life in so many ways and gave me tools and skills that I can use from now on. It fueled me with confidence to travel anywhere in the world. Seriously, who goes to Mongolia anyway?
Be sure stayed tuned next week for my pick-pocketing, Tran-Siberian tale.
Khaled Habash can be contacted at [email protected]