It must’ve been a combination of worry and pain which kept me awake last night, for sleep eluded me. I was dropping Nurofen Forte’s like Jacko and I may as well have sat there whistling dixie. It wasn’t long before I could hear Sami scratching around the Ger. He said he was getting cold, and to be fair, when the little stove in the centre went out, they weren’t a warm place to sleep. It was now obvious why Mongols live on a diet of fat lardons, for it was a good 40 degrees higher than what they’d be getting in a few months time. Sami tried to light the fire, as I looked on, as good as useless. Which was more to the pity, because he was making a real ham-fisted effort at lighting it. I then rummaged around in my bag and threw out a toilet roll, which he soon got to work on. When that had burned through without the wood catching, I threw him all my duplicate documents from my tank bag, when that didn’t work, he burned his duplicates. For just a moment I longed to be back home for the 12th July, when northern Ireland shows the rest of the world what a fire is really all about. Actually I didn’t, I hate the 12th celebrations and Mongolia was sufficiently far enough away for me to forget about them.
Anyway, Sami eventually pulled on all of his training in the Finnish army, and got enough of a fire going to heat a small marmot. He then went to sleep, leaving me to ponder my canine induced afflictions.
Sami and the fire that wouldn't light
It was a beautiful morning. I had looked forward to a shower, as it had been a good few days since my last ablutions and as I couldn’t ride today, I fancied at least sitting around in a state of moderate cleanliness. We were told that the hot water wouldn’t be on until 5pm. Unhappy, and watching my hand swell by the hour, we set to work on the bike. Tuomas and Pauli took off what was left of the engine bars, straightened the front wheel, yokes, and handle bars, and put in new rear brake bads. There was nothing that could be done about the blow out, so Pietro not only looked like he’d been in the war, but sounded like he’d been dropped out of an airplane at high altitude.
After the necessary repairs were completed, Sami, Pauli and I trekked up a hill, relaxed in the sun, did some laundry, and read. Dinner that night was Yak meat, and was very very good. We had a couple of
s, looked back through photos on my netbook and had a good laugh at some of our situations. Much of it seemed so long ago and so many miles ago. It was time to turn in for another night in our Ger’s. We hoped that my wrist was up to the job of clutching tomorrow. As for holding the bike up if it started to go down, it no longer mattered.
taking off the adv-spec engine bars
my gift to Mongolia
back on with the handlebars
still not set right
hours later
Tourist Ger camp in the background behind Pauli
A young 18,000 year old volcano in the background with the crater in it
Sami doing his best Beavis impression with the lower mandible of some animal's skeleton
a little local kid
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