When it rains, it pours

My first night on the steppe, I woke up every few hours thinking to myself: I can't do this. I still felt horrible but quitting after only one day was never an option, so I put my wet shoes back on and dragged my saddle back to the horse line to choose my next mount. There were quite a few people at HS2 so it took a little while to get everyone horseback. By the time the herder helped me on, Ava and Molly had already galopped off. Thankfully Ella and Tag were still there as well so the three of us rode out together. If they hadn't been there, I would have probably quit right there and then. We were at the back, it was still pouring and we had only covered about 70 km..

Another thing I learned on the Derby: nothing is really waterproof. My jacket worked great in the (admittedly pretty heavy) rains of Wyoming but didn't last long on the steppe. My waterproof shoes were completely soaked and I realized one extra pair of gloves might not be enough. We had tried to dry our stuff in the ger that night but most of it was still damp. I did have an extra set of clothes on me but I wanted to keep those dry for the night. I don't really mind riding in the rain but the last part of each leg I would be freezing cold. We tried to warm up a bit at each horse station with a fire and some food but it didn't do much for our wet clothes. 

Thinking back, it's pretty crazy how much the terrain changed. We rode along a river bank through a marshy area where Ella's horse almost got stuck in the bog, we passed a small town called a 'Soum' in Mongolian, at another point we rode past rolling hills with wild camels grazing around us and on the next stretch we would gallop across open farmland. Of course when you ride 100 km a day, you're bound to see some different scenery. The crazy thing was, while it was long, it didn't really feel that far. I guess it's because Mongolia is so 'empty'. There was nothing around except for some scattered gers and goats. 

I remember certain bits from the legs we rode. We were trying to figure out where we could trot, or canter, how much we should push the horses and when to let them rest. For me, it was mostly about getting to the next station, ignoring the pain in my stomach and staying on. I couldn't really think of anything else, it felt like I was just trying to survive. Thankfully, Tag was a great navigator so he managed to get us to the stations without any detours. On the way to HS3, I realized for the first time how sure-footed and strong these horses are. My mount tripped in a marmot hole, went a few metres on his knees but got back up and kept going like nothing had happened. 

On the third and last leg of the day, I had some trouble finding a horse. The herders couldn't get a saddle on the first two I picked, they kept rearing and bucking. I ended up taking a bay with a big white blaze. Apparantly, two other riders had refused to take him but I just wanted to get going. It turned out to be a good pick. Francis joined our little group on this leg and all four of us got really fast horses, we galopped non-stop for the first 25 km. About 7 km outside of the station, Ella took a little tumble when her saddle slid forward going down a ditch. Thankfully she wasn't hurt and got the horse back before it bolted all the way back to HS4. We made it to the station just before the 8pm cut off time. I didn't realize how cold I was until we got to HS5 and Cozy, one of the vets, wrapped a raincoat around me. Thankfully, there was a fire going in the ger and some hot noodlesoup to warm up. I survived another day on the steppe!