Every time we decide to camp, we are being reminded that our bodies simply are not used anymore to sleeping on really hard ground. Surprisingly we were not sore from the local saddles, but the tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep produced bruises on our hips. Crawling out of our tent at 7 AM Chris set to start a fire for our tea kettle.
The horses grazed fitfully the whole night and Borat watered them (1000 years of nomadic experience…) again in the morning. Porridge and bread with aubergine jam (Esthers favorite) was the breakfast for this morning. By 8.30 AM we were on the horse again since it was overcast and we were told it’ll rain by late afternoon.
We tried to adjust Chris’ stirrups to make them a bit longer, which, after some fiddeling, worked out pretty well. After packing everything again and stuffing our things in the saddlebags, we were ready to start our second day of riding.
So off we set along grassy hills towards the great Chimgan mountains. From afar we saw a ski resort and cable car going to the top of a nearby mountain, a popular sport here for the wealthy.
We climbed up steep grassy slopes on little animal paths from one ridge to the next, always heading towards the great mountain ridge. After three hours riding on our sturdy and very forward heading horses, we reached a breathtaking pass between two mountains with splendid views to either side.
We decided to break here for lunch. Again we tried to convince Borat, to let the horses graze a bit by tying them longer to a fence post. To no avail. He loosened their girths but tied them so short that they could not eat any grass. Centuries old habits never die.
Lunch consisted like the day before of bread, cold cheeses and sausage, the aubergine jam and lots of little sweet treats like dried fruit, bonbons and candied nuts. Pferfectly adequate for us.
After one hour we started out again in good spirits. We passed herds of sheep and cows, and once in a while Borat’s lead stallion whinnied when he sensed another herd of horses close by. In most cases they kept a distance, but once in a while the herd stallion tried to protect his herd by agressing our horses. One came realy close and Borat and Inom had to raise their whip and shout out loud to make him go away reluctantly. Stallion attacks are not uncommon here and one always needs to watch out as the green hills are not fenced in and animals can roam freely.
We came by a sheperds summer home, similar to what we have in the Alps , where they live with their animals in the mountains for the summer period only. In Winter they move down again to lower grounds. A nice family handed us something in a bag that looked like white ping pong balls.
Turns out that this is an UZ specialty calles Kurd, fermented and cured hard cheese that can last for years and which was perfect food for those who travelled the silk road.
On we went towards our second camp when Borat and Inom all of a sudden fanned out and started to search for something. Puzzled we asked what it was they were looking for. Turns out that they wanted to surprise us with some special edible plant called Matar. It only grows in that region in the mountains and is not grown commercially. We were looking forward to eating it that night.
After traversing a flock of sheep and goats, we came across a very young, likely newly born goat. It emitted pitiful cries and appeared to be searching for its mother. Initially, we attempted to guide it towards the herd using our horses, but it unexpectedly began to regard us as its caretakers. Consequently, Inom made the decision to dismount and apprehend the goat in order to return it to the flock. However, this action startled the young animal, prompting Inom to pursue it. After several hundred meters, he successfully captured it and managed to reunite the wayward creature with its herd.
Two hours later we arrived at Borat’s home town, Chimgan Village and set up camp at the outskirts.
We got a bigger tent as it was supposed to rain more and were lucky to still set up camp in the dry.
We opted to take a leisurely stroll and explore the surroundings on foot. Venturing into the village, we sought refreshment at a small shop in Chimgan, aiming for a bottle of beer. While there, Chris engaged in a game with a local kid, where the objective was to skillfully flip a card on the ground to reveal its face. The game proved challenging, and despite Chris’s efforts, the young local emerged victorious, resorting to unfair tactics by licking his palm to gain an advantage.…
Inom produced one of the Kurd balls and explained that those are best savoured with beer. You had to scrape the hard surface with your teeth, let the white kurd melt in your mouth and then sip a bit of beer at the same time. We both tried it, it tasted salty and tart and had strange reaction with beer when consumed together, but it is an acquired taste and we had enough sharing one kurd ball between us.
Back at Camp, we moved everything into our tent as rain was imminent. Borat had gotten the larger tent from his home by a cute little donkey who brayed often and farted at the same time.
It made us laugh every time. On a cut out old bucket, they put a rounded kettle and started to prepare the Matar.
Water, oil, onions and small cut Matar went into the kettele and started to fry. Matar is a mix between a spring onion and chives or Baerlauch. After cooking for about 30 min we all got bowls full of it and ate it with fresh bread.
It tasted really very good. Nearly a smokey spinachy flavor to it.
Just in time after our dinner it started to drizzle. We cleaned up for the night and snugled into our warm sleeping bags listening to the drip drip of rain coming down.
Again we wished for softer matresses, but hey you cannot have everything, the weather gods were with us today, that was enough.
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