Mongolia- 5 Days of Horse Trekking- Through My Eyes.

As I sit here in a Ger, reminiscing on the last week of nomadic life, thoughts shoot through my head like galloping hooves. I have all these mixed emotions and things I want to say; the hard part is putting those thoughts into words.

The nomadic people here have captured my heart with their kindness and warmth, even though our communication has been mainly through our guide. The countryside, with its untouched, raw, and wild beauty, is a sight to behold.

For the most part, the animals live in a way that offers them great freedom and peace. No fences are keeping them in. The horses, cows, yaks, reindeer, and sheep graze freely in their herds, yet still stay close enough to the nomads who own them. It's as though there is an unspoken knowing that keeps them where they are meant to be.

The horses are identified by a brand on their hindquarters, as well as the style of their mane. At first, I didn't understand why the horses had many crazy hairstyles, but now it makes sense.

They have access to a variety of grasses and plants. They gain weight in summer and lose it in winter.

Travelling across Mongolia, some animals are in much better condition than others, depending on the area, the soil, and the degree of grazing, which is not much different from home in that regard.

The horse's feet also looked amazing. No farriers, just a product of the beauty of allowing a horse to live like a horse.

Then there is also the flipside of the coin, the horsemanship I experienced was very "Old School". In saying this, I am also very aware that I can't judge everyone by a small sample size. I know that there are varying degrees of knowledge in every country.

Day one of the tour.

I woke up early, excited to see the horses brought into the yards. They seem content with people nearby when out in the open, but all that changed when the nomadic horseman stepped into the yard.

Some horses showed curiosity towards us, but there was no opportunity for partnership. The horses started to run as the lasso that was used to catch them spun around.

They had changed so quickly from the contented horses grazing.

At each spin of the lasso, they ran in panic. Some jumped the fence. Those who were caught froze like statues but still had wildness in their eyes.

Why so much fear?

Horse after horse, they were caught (by lasso), bridled, and tied up.

Their flight response turned into a freeze response as they stood like quiet kids ponies. The girths were pulled up tight. Most horses had scars from where the girths sat, and some had scarring and lumps from where an ill-fitting, wooden-treed saddle had sat.

The first pack horse looked as though he was wearing a corset; he was given the heaviest load. Here, the girths sit in a different place than we're used to, much further back, where the floating ribs are. As a result, when over-tightened, there would be the possibility of damage to ribs, facet joints, and also the internal organs that the ribs protect.

The second pack horse was moving around in discomfort as they tightened the pack gear like one would a ratchet strap.

The tour guide remarked that this was the reason why it's a pack horse, it's too 'wild' to be ridden. What I saw was a horse in great distress.

And so, I ask myself, is this abuse?

These people certainly don't seem to want to hurt these animals; there is no malice projected toward the horses, no anger, or sense of authority in their expressions. It's more of a 'this is the way we do things, because this is what we know' scenario. It's like they were reading instructions from a cookbook, like a step-by-step of how to operate a horse.

Does this make what they are doing ok? ... well, no...

But do I have a valid reason to be angry with them? ... I've had to think about this for a while. Because I was certainly upset at the time, I could see the horses looking so uncomfortable; I could see them trying to communicate how they felt, yet being ignored.

However, the more I thought about this, the more I realised that the answer was no. No, I couldn't be angry with the people. Because what was being angry with them going to achieve? How could it achieve anything when they didn't feel that what they were doing was wrong? There is no way they are going to understand why I'm angry, and being angry wasn't going to help the people or the horses.

So, flashback to day one of our tour again. We set off on our five-day ride. I felt uncomfortable with the whole situation. I needed some time to think and observe, to decide how I felt about everything and what I would do about it, if anything.

For the next two hours of our ride, one of the pack horses stopped and lay down about ten times. The horseman also seemed a little cranky with us. I guess it must be exhausting having so many tourists come and go during the summer season, most with no horse experience, and he didn't know us from a bar of soap.

I could feel my blood starting to boil with the whole situation.

I spoke to my friend and asked how she felt about leaving the tour and voiding the rest of the five-day ride (and, in that case, also the other the ten days of our twelve-day tour). We didn't want to leave, but when we discussed the current situation, we decided neither of us could do five days of this.

We couldn't watch that pack horse struggle for five days, and we knew that neither of our horses' saddles fit them very well. Many of them had some degree of muscle atrophy from poorly fitting tack.

Next was the hard conversation with our tour guide: do I tell her the truth, or do I make up a story about some disaster at home that is the reason we need to rush away? I mean, telling a white lie would make the 20-hour drive back a lot less awkward, but then again, they say the truth will set you free.

So it was decided that I would tell her the truth.

It was an awkward conversation. I told her about our concerns for horse welfare as kindly as I could deliver it to her.

She then translated our concerns with the horse guide and also to her boss.

After much back and forth, translating from Mongolian to English to Mongolian again, it became clear that they didn't want us to leave but instead wanted to know what it would take for us to stay.

I was pretty decided about leaving, but my friend and I spoke it through. She said if we go, we're nothing more than two annoying Aussie girls who spat the dummy and didn't finish their tour.... but if we stay, we may influence some change, even if only small. I knew she was right...

In the end, we agreed: if they added two extra pack horses and allowed us to ride our horses bareback, we would continue the tour.

Our tour guide and horse guide were concerned; they hadn't had any other tourists ride 140km bareback before. We were told it was incredibly risky, and did we understand and agree to the risks we were taking? Of course, we did.

There was much discussion in Mongolian, and I'm sure much of it was likely about how crazy we were.

We set up camp for the night while the horse guide fetched two more pack horses and two more horse guides to help with the extra pack horses.

The energy in the air between us all was tense.

I lay in bed that night, hoping that the next few days would go well. Either way, they were never going to forget this tour.

As the morning sun shone through the tent, I had all my fingers and toes crossed that today would go well.

My friend and I decided to swap horses for the day. Since I hadn't spent any time with her horse, I thought I'd spend some time saying hi and doing some energy healing with him before we spent the day riding through the wilderness together.

I'm unsure what his name was or if he had one. I've been told many of the horses here are identified by colour and appearance rather than by name. He was a chestnut roan gelding, probably around 14hh. The sweetest little guy, but very sensitive and wary of having someone on his offside.

As I first approached him, he shied away. I gently held his rope and reassured him it was ok as I placed my hand on his neck. I'm no bodyworker and certainly no expert in energy healing, but I have learned enough from colleagues and bodyworkers like my sister to dabble in some energy work and bodywork with my own horses and also appreciate just how powerful it can be.

I stood quietly with this little guy, not forcing anything but allowing him to dictate how the session went. After about 10 minutes, he settled into my presence, softening his eye and lowering his head. I began to move my hands down his back, where the saddle had sat the previous day, gently moving the skin in small circles, helping to release the fascia and muscle beneath it and promote blood flow to the areas which were rock solid with tension and brace.

I worked on both sides of his body, noticing where he felt tight and where he felt more flaccid in the muscle. He seemed to enjoy the attention, and after a short session, I left him be while I went to have breakfast.

The air between us all was somewhat lighter this morning; however, I still felt a lot of anticipation from everyone as to how today was going to go. We could tell they were worried about how we were going to handle such rugged terrain bareback.

We all had breakfast, the gear bags had been packed, and next it was time to gear up the pack horses.

I watched as they loaded the first pack horse. I wanted to comment on the tightness of the girth; however, I bit my tongue. I knew I needed to wait until they packed the Paint gelding (as he was the one who lay down the day before).

When it was the Paint horse's turn, it was my opportunity to share my thoughts. I asked our tour guide to translate to the horseman for me.

In a way, I felt sorry for her; she was here to translate the conversation, but she had now become the meat in the middle of an awkward sandwich as she translated unsolicited advice from an Australian tourist to the horse guide.

I tried to choose my words carefully so that they wouldn't get lost in translation.

"A horse's ribcage expands 6-8cm when he takes a breath in, if you do the girth so tight he can't breathe properly".

The horseman seemed to keep his calm, which I was thankful for. To me, it meant that even if he disagreed with me, at least he heard what I had to say, maybe he'd even think about it.

He spoke a few words, and our tour guide translated them for me. He said, "The packs need to be well secured, we have rough terrain ahead".

I didn't push my point any further; I knew I was treading a fine line, and these horses didn't belong to me.

I asked her to translate again, "I understand, but if the horse lies down again can we loosen his girth".

Our guide translated these words, and the horse guide nodded in agreement.

The next two pack horses were packed with luggage, food, and camping gear, and then it was time to go.

My friend walked over to her horse, holding a sheep hide in one hand. As everyone caught sight of this, they began to giggle, wondering what exactly she was going to do with this smelly old sheepskin.

You see, it just so happened that after we set up camp the previous day, I went for a walk and found a sheep skin in a winter animal shelter- I knew it would be perfect for the little bay horse my friend was going to ride, as he had muscle atrophy over his scapula and along his back. I ride my horses at home in a reindeer hide, which gives both the horse some cushioning between the spinous processes of a horse's back, and it also gives the rider's pelvis some relief too.

Giggles aside, she placed the sheepskin wool side down on his back and got on.

I jumped on the little roan guy bareback, the three horse guides, and our tour guide mounted their horses also. We were off.

A couple of minutes into the ride, the little Paint pack horse lay down again. Two of the guides stopped, whilst the rest of us continued. I'm not sure exactly what they did, but when they returned, he seemed more content and comfortable with his girth. I was delighted to see that he didn't lie down for the remainder of the day's trek.

The terrain was rough; we went up and down steep hills, over rocks, swamps, creeks, and tree roots. Up and down and around obstacles we went.

The further we went, the more the mood lightened. I think everyone was starting to breathe a little easier with the realisation that the two crazy Australian girls most probably weren't going to need airlifting out of here.

As the day progressed and more sign language humour was thrown around, I realised that I was really starting to like these people. We may have got off on the wrong foot, but beyond the misunderstandings and differences of opinion, I felt a genuine warmth toward them.

I enjoyed the day's trek, and it was mostly uneventful (despite our lunch falling off the packhorse somewhere along the way). Luckily, this just added to the banter and lightened the mood even more.

We arrived that night at the reindeer tribe.

This tribe of people lived in yurts rather than Gers. I was told they prefer yurts as they are easier to move around. Yurts are more like what we think of as teepees.

The tribe was lovely and very welcoming, and we spent a whole day here. I enjoyed having a day's rest to look around and watch the reindeer being milked. We even tried reindeer tea, made from reindeer milk and soaked in reindeer meat, as well as reindeer cream and cheese.

The days in Mongolia at this time of year are long; it gets light before 5 am and doesn't get dark until after 10 pm. Even so, the day was quickly behind us.

The next day, it was time to say our goodbyes to the reindeer tribe and begin the trek home. Another 60-70km bareback home.

My friend and I swapped horses again. The little bay guy she had ridden on the way was very sensible, although the atrophy of his topline had made her "butt crack very sore".

To relieve her pain she shoved her aeroplane neck pillow into her jeans for extra padding. We all stood around watching as she stuffed the pillow into her pants and moved it around to try to protect her butt crack best. It certainly set the mood for the day as we all laughed at her, our tour guide even commenting how her butt now looked like Kim Kardashian.

So there we were, homebound.

One of us is riding in a stinky sheep hide, and the other has a Kim Kardashian butt.

Halfway through day one of our trek home, I was beginning to understand why my friend wanted to swap horses. My legs and pelvis feeling as though someone had stabbed me with a thousand knives!

I wouldn't say a word, though. I was determined to complete the ride and share none of my discomfort with anyone. I've always been stubborn in this way, and this trip for me had become a way of making a stand for what I believe in.

On day two of our trek back, it looked like rain. So we packed up in a bit of a hurry and got 'on the road'.

The horse guides started trotting off. They looked back. I think they were all wondering if we were okay and also curious to see how well these two crazy Aussie girls could ride.

My little bay pony trotted a bit like a jackhammer, but I pretended that his trot was a piece of cake to sit to.

I found a long stretch of flat grass and let him go for a gallop. It was the best feeling, being out in the wilderness with the wind in my hair, the little guy running as fast as his little legs would take him.It brought back memories of the young and crazy version of myself who liked to fang everywhere.

Not long after this, we arrived back at the camp where our tour started, somewhat exhausted, but with many stories to tell.

As we waved goodbye to the horseman who accompanied us on our tour, I was sure that they wouldn't forget us. Maybe we hadn't been able to influence much change in just five days, but a seed had been planted, and I found acceptance and contentment in that.

I thought about this experience and how it made me feel. I couldn't feel anything of certainty; it was as though tightly entwined layers of emotions had engulfed my body. The emotional layers caused so much confusion that they silenced my ability to decipher exactly what I felt.

But if I'm to sit with my feelings and dissect each emotional layer apart into moments and memories, I can describe how I felt then.

For every moment I wanted to cry, there was a smile.

For every moment of anger, there was also laughter.

For every moment of constraints and pain, there were feelings of rawness and freedom.

I can see both the yin and the yang. While tradition is magical, unique, and important, in some ways it can also be limiting and non-progressive.

From what I saw and could understand from watching these people with their horses, there was not necessarily a resistance to change, but instead, no understanding of why change would be needed, or what exactly it would look like.

Nomadic life, as I experienced it, is the polar opposite of the life many of us take for granted. We have clinics, lessons, seminars, and various modalities at our fingertips. Some of the people I have met here live a nine-hour drive from the nearest town, or 70km via horseback through rugged terrain to get to the nearest dirt track where you could drive a car... some with no internet, mobile reception, or electricity.

I'm not suggesting that this makes any of what I saw ok.

I have been giving this whole situation a lot of thought...

....and so, I asked myself the following questions...

and I ask you to ask yourself these same questions....

Is my current self content with how my younger self understood and worked with horses?

... My answer is no..

Will the future me, say in 20 years, be content with the current version of myself and the way I am working with horses?

... My answer is also likely, no..

Having compassion isn't always easy, but I'm beginning to realise that to share with others what one sees through their own eyes, it needs to be done with a quiet confidence, warmth, and a great deal of humility.

I love this saying- "If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it". ~Margaret Fuller

As I sit in the hotel in South Korea today, writing these final few sentences. I realise there is still so much I want to write about.

Stay tuned for more posts about my time in Mongolia as I gather my thoughts and write them down. I feel just as it is important to raise awareness of where there is room for change and brainstorm possible ways to do so. I also want to speak more about all the good in Mongolia, the rawness, wildness, and beauty of allowing the horses to live so freely.