Mongolian horseman. Picking up the wooden stick at top gallop |
My friend Caroline Hatton, a frequent contributor to this blog, can’t believe it’s already been seven years since she went on a guided horse trek in Mongolia in June 2015. There, she attended a naadam and took the photos in this post.
The valley where Mongol nomads gathered for the day. |
“Why Mongolia?”
Trip leader Thomas Kelly, a photo-activist published in
National Geographic and other renowned outlets, invited the 16 participants to
share why they signed up for a rugged horse trek in the former heartland of
Genghis Khan’s empire. Some wanted a vacation off the beaten track. One horse-crazy
girl was celebrating her transformation into a teen. And a young widow sought
solace. My answer, as a lifelong horse lover, was “To discover a great horse
culture.” My husband’s answer was “Because I’m the husband.”
Starting in Ulaanbaatar, the capital where all foreign visitors land, Thomas and his wife Carroll Dunham, a medical anthropologist and trip co-leader, took guests in a minivan across the open steppe, to a remote mountain valley some 300 miles (about 480 km) away. There, we stayed in round tents called gers (rhymes with airs), like the local Mongolian nomadic horsemen who took us horseback riding.
Local spectators arrive |
Best dressed: this grandma |
Young ones fixing sound system problems |
The snack shop |
Horse race finish. Riders are typically between the ages of 5 and 13. |
Being ridden is not in this stallion’s job description. |
The program didn’t include archery. Instead, men competed in untamed-stallion bareback riding and in a contest in which riders tried to pick up a wooden stick from the ground while their horse galloped at top speed (see top photo).
He got the stick AND stayed on! In the background, another competitor waits for his turn. |
During that contest, Thomas walked his photography students, including me, to the virtual line along which horses and riders galloped full tilt past the stick on the ground. The rider reached mind-blowingly far and low. His weight pulled the horse sideways, causing it to turn—inevitably—right? So it was safe to be down on one knee on the straight line, eyeball to camera viewfinder, giving up the ability to judge distance, and just click away—right? As I did, my heart pounded, not in fear of being trampled, but in hope of getting shots I liked. Of the dozens I took, the one with the horseman in red (see top photo) is most like a tourism ad, and the one with the horseman in pink is my favorite, despite the bit pulling on the horse’s lips.
Mongolian wrestling |
Wrestling medalists
|
Men catching up |
Nomad families lived in gers they moved with the seasons, as they tended their herds of horses and goats, sheep and yaks across a land without fences. In the summer, they set up camp in the lush wide valley, on the life-giving grass by the river. In the winter, they camped near mountain cliffs, for protection from wind and snow. In the spring, they tied a blue silk scarf, the color of the eternal blue sky worshiped by Genghis Khan, around the neck of the first foal of the year, to celebrate its auspicious birth. Kids rode like the wind from a young age.
Boys catching up |
The same horsemen guided our group, wearing traditional Mongolian shirts or long coats— their hospitality worker’s uniform—over jeans and T-shirts. Next to their gers stood solar panels, satellite dishes, and motorcycles. And they checked Facebook on their cell phones or made up rap songs in Mongolian while riding across the endless steppe with us tourists in tow.
FOR MORE INFO
Read this author’s post about Mongolia’s Welcoming Gers
All text and photos, copyright Caroline Arnold. www.theintrepidtourist.blogspot.com
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