It would appear that for reasons that are beyond my limited understanding that WordPress has decided it no long likes to work with the Safari browser but that it likes Google Chrome. Why the sudden change of venue as it were is a mystery, however here’s hoping that after numerous attempts, you will finally find out what happened at the mud pit and what we’ve been up to since.
So I left you at the edge of a muddy abyss. Kim, Pat and Helen on horses that have decided they’d rather not get themselves immersed in the mire.
Our horseman, Baga, circled back and encouraged my horse across by riding alongside. The tactic worked. He went back to help Pat and Helen. Helen’s horse bolted for the bush and higher ground. Pat’s was being ornery and stubborn. Baga tried pulling him and he lost his footing in the mud, which was up to his haunches. Luckily Pat’s foot had come out of a stirrup and as her horse fell, she came off, landing up past her hips in the muddy water.
Although filthy, wet and cold she was uninjured. Her sense of humour was a little subdued for a while but she recovered that much sooner than she dried off. Two weeks later and after several washes, her pants remain of questionable cleanliness.
The ride continued and Pat continued arguing with her horrid horse who she named – a name I am not allowed to reveal. Let me assure you, it was a suitable name.
After climbing up a mountain, across the top, along a scree slope, down the other side and through more mud, we eventually arrived a beautiful campsite in a larch forest by a stream. It was dusk by this time. We set up our tents. One for the three of us. One for our guide, Ester. One for the three men. No eating shelter. A campfire was lit from damp wood. A good hot meal was prepared. We ate, then fell into our sleeping bags and exhausted sleep.
During the night it rained. Deluged really. Stay tuned for the next instalment.
Rain and Mud in Mongolia.