Sand, Spiders, and a Slip-n-Slide
Songino to Tariat, Mongolia - 12 hours, 223 miles
Whole lotta rain overnight. Woke up still amazed at how magnificently both of us had taken the tumble yesterday. Had a nasty spider bite in Kazakhstan bubble up a huge blister like I'd never seen before, right above my naval. Two days later, a different type of bite created a nasty, bloody sore on my perfectly white right butt cheek. Now, these silly spiders are using my tent for shelter from the rain. Enough! Man, lemme tell you what...this is tough. Mongolia is the real deal. And to be honest, I'm a bit happy I'm alone. I can choose my own paths, and I only have to worry about my own well-being. If I'm frustrated, I can't take it out on anyone. On the flip side, I'm in the middle of freakin' nowhere. If something bad happens, it could be catastrophic. Furthermore, applying Neosporin to spider bites on your ass just would be more entertaining when enlisting a travel buddy.
I was looking forward to finishing the last 60 miles of sand and mud. It's so draining. At one point, my phone rang, and I simply looked down for a split second to see who it was and silence the shrill ringing in my headset. In an instant, Green's rear end slid out from under me and we were both laying in the sand. Damn telemarketers! Ugh. This is getting old.
Finally...pavement! I wanted to get down and kiss the tarmac, make it feel my love for just a moment. It's amazing how the mind and body slide back into bliss when traction is more certain and speeds are more freeing. Screaming into the Tarvagatai Mountains at 70 mph, every muscle tensed when I spotted a cable hanging across the road at neck height. Some strong feedback from the ABS, but we were at a standstill in no time. Some dude came out of a shack and told me to go around this makeshift roadblock. I knew, "You could have freakin' killed me, you jerk!!!" meant nothing to him, but I screamed at at him anyway, twice. Later I'd find that he was trying to prevent trucks from entering the next road, under construction, due to the massive storm that was about to wash it out. Grrrrrreeaaaaaat. The hits just keep on comin'.
When the downpour and lightening barrage finally engulfed the mountain range. Green and I retreated to shelter under some evergreens. After an hour, I realized we couldn't wait this out. It was three miserable hours before we found a place to hide for the night: a nice little ger camp. But, half-way through the afternoon, I'd stopped to find shelter below the overhang of an abandoned building in a tiny town whose name escapes me. A couple doors down was some sort of restaurant/pub. Three teenage boys came outside into the rain, quite over-served. Two mounted a small motorbike and one mounted his horse. Both pilots gallantly raised an arm up to the sky and into the direction of travel before spurring their steeds into motion. They screamed something into the downpour but I only heard "Hi-Ho, Silver!" The pair on the motorbike didn't make it 50 feet before slipping in the mud and crumbling next to the bike. Righting the bike was second priority to relieving their bladders. Finally, they remounted the bike and made it almost 100 feet before crashing again. It would be a long journey home for them. I mounted Green and caught up with the boy on horseback. He didn't fair much better, as I saw him slip off the side of his horse as I passed. Anyway, I slipped into the ger, hung all my clothes and gear to dry next to the stove, pounded a can of tuna and restlessly listened to the rainfall late into the night. Just 300 miles to Ulaan Baatar. Almost there.
