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Genghis Khan Polo Club


After one night in Ulaanbaatar, 7 hours bus to Karakoram and another 40 minutes off road into the depth of the Mongolian steppe, we have reached the Genghis Khan Polo Club. 

The sight of the camp is a well deserved one, with some thirty ger (also known as yurt, but here everyone says ger) settled between a river, hills and free roaming herds of horses, sheep, cows and the occasional yak. 

We have settled in our own little ger. It is very cosy with a chimney in the middle of the room to keep us warm at night (much needed). We haven’t been very lucky with the weather so far. It has been pouring with rain since the day we arrived which has basically kept us grounded inside our ger for most of the day. We don’t really mind at the moment because we still have plenty of time left here but a couple left this morning feeling very frustrated to have had rain the entire week. 

It’s actually very selfish of us to be complaining about the rain. The country has been going through a drought and if the herds of animals don’t get enough to eat during the summer they will die in the harsh winter and with them the nomads’ livelihood. So when you take that into account, feeling sad about missing out on horse riding seems a little out of place. 

We did manage to go for small treks in between dry weather patches and the view is well worth the effort. I have also discovered that I am quite unfit - I was huffing and puffing my way up the mountain (err, hill). Hopefully a few more days of exercise should rectify this soon. 

PS - I know you were all expecting photos of us big people on the tiny ponies but this will have to wait. That’s because we have been riding only once. My pony was indeed ridiculously small. I was told he’s the smallest of the herd (now why they would give such a tall person the smallest pony is beyond me) but he managed royally well and didn’t even look like I was too heavy. Their trot is incredibly comfortable. That explains every Mongol we see on a horse is always trotting. (For the none-horsey people, trot is usually the most uncomfortable pace.) 


the campsite


busted...





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