After breakfast overlooking the Little Gobi, a longer drive to get us most of the way back to Ulaan Baatar awaited. I may have dozed for much of it. Off the highway, a bumpy dirt track took us towards the gates of Hustai National Park. Buying an entry ticket was more difficult than any other purchase of our month in Mongolia – the only time we had to use US dollars, thankfully Ian and Rachel had been carrying some around for weeks.
Last night in the tents in Mongolia – near the playground and outside the main tourist village for the park.
Once someone opened it for us, we spent time in the visitor centre learning about the local area and Przewalki’s horse – what we’d come to see. An extra pair of chromosomes the main, of a number, difference between them and domesticated horses. Long thought the only wild horse (c.f. brumbies and mustangs), they died out in the wild but have been reintroduced to a few habitats – Hustai being one.
As dusk approached, when the horses would start to come down from the hills to drink, we drove into the park to an area set up for viewing.
Spot the horses was quite difficult from such distance.
Eventually we could pick some out on the skyline.
They didn’t seem that thirsty, we watched them from afar for ages.
There were a couple of scopes set-up to get a better view through. Taking photos through it was hit and miss.
While we waited a large group of park rangers arrived on dirt bikes and a couple of horses. Apparently there was a domestic horse in the herd, and they wanted it out. A couple of the rangers took off up the steep hill.
Slowly the horses made their way down the slopes.
This guy must have been tasked with final capture of the imposter – a loop of rope was on the end of the pole.
The two bikes appeared on the ridge and descended to corral the horses. Suddenly, all hell broke loose and there were noisy dirt bikes going everywhere chasing the horses up the valley and then wheeling them around back down the other side of the valley.
Eventually the domestic horse was separated and captured.
Excitement and horse viewing over, it was back to camp for our last Mongolian camp meal – undoubtedly noodles, some veges and questionable meat – and what would have been a peaceful night, but for some late arrivals setting up camp just up the hill and having a karoake party into the wee hours.
This seemed to be a gathering spot for European campervans; we’d not seen a single one on our ride, yet the overlanders chose to meet here. Weird.