20th March 2013- Mongolia

Roy and I have just returned from a most interesting race in Mongolia ridingTahki ponies side saddle, generously donated by the Xiongnu tribe. Our 1958 refurbished Dakota flew into the peripheri of the vast Gobi desert to a secluded airstrip on the side of a mountain near Ulan Bator, the capital. What our Lebanese travel agent failed to tell us prior to departure was that Ulan Bator is certainly one of the coldest cities on this planet. 

Thank goodness for the Xiongnu's fond attachment to the Bos Grunniens, more commonly referred to as the humble yak in most western civilisations. On casting their monolithic gazes over our feeble & trembling white frames, the Xiongnu duly slaughtered half a dozen of the hairy beasts prior to the start of the race. The skins were duly smoked, half dried in their yurts & wrapped around our bodies to ward off hyperthermia & a much shortened race in theory. 
After a hors d'oeuvres of skinned python we were assigned to ride the locally bred semi-wild & mostly fully unbroken ponies all the way to the Caspian Sea, a journey of ridiculous terrain over absurd distances that only inbred Mongoloids could possibly even contemplate. Needless to say, our backup team in a hot air balloon generously donated by a defunct Egyptian tourist company, picked us up on only the second day in a deflated state of delerium with Laff mumbling something about the 7th race at Clairwood