500 kilometres across Mongolia's forested heartland. What a week on a Mongolian horse actually feels like, honestly told.
Tengis M.
You do not ride a Mongolian horse the way you ride a Western horse. It is smaller, stockier, half-wild, and knows the steppe better than you do. On day three, it will follow the herd whether you tell it to or not. That is the point.
We match you at our base camp in Arkhangai. The herd of forty is brought in at dawn. Our horsemaster watches you mount, watches the horse read you, then points: ‘This one.’ You do not choose. You are chosen.
Six hours in the saddle to the base of the Khangai range. The first climb is a shoulder-ache experience. By the second, you have found your seat.
Larch forests. Cold streams. A lunch of dried curd and bread on a rock while the horses drink. The rhythm is established. The phone has no signal and has not for two days.
The Orkhon. Waist-deep. Horses swim the last ten metres. You are wet from the ribs down and you have never felt warmer.
We know the family. Four generations of herders. Dinner is boodog, fresh airag, and a lot of quiet. The grandmother teaches you how to milk the mare.
Ten hours of riding. You are not tired the way you expect. You are present the way you have not been for years.
The descent. The horses know the way home. You have changed and they have not.
Pre-requisites: basic riding confidence. We do not take beginners on this route. We have other options if you are starting out — ask us.