The blinking multicolored lights do look strange

6.4. Sankachow

Its dark and the thundering sound of the by passing trucks is a strange soundtrack in this desert town. There are at least five enormous gas stations. They all look alike. Never seen so high and wide constructions for this purpose.

It’s dark and dusty. The sandstorm has been ongoing for five days…

Sunday afternoon –and we are finally on our way. Two days later than originally planned but this is still quite good.

To buy the horses was quite an affair. Not so easy. And not easy get them for an adequate price. Horse dealers are horse dealers. And we are not professional horse buyers.

Still, we managed to buy three horses for a fairly reasonable price - two stallions and one gelding. No females this time. The horse dealer looked like a happy man after the deal was done – even more so his wife.

The local horses do all look underfed – which they probably are. Especially at this time of year. They way they treat animals is to westerners quite something.

Our starting point is a bit outside the city of Kashgar. A dusty village with very little charm.

Over 6000 kilometers to go…sigh. The weather is ok – for local standards, a light sand storm. Could be worse.

We camp for the night just by road. Looks like in the middle of nowhere. And out of nowhere people start to gather. We are the talk of the town…eh.

A half hour later…the Finnish military tent is up and by that the crowd is about fifty. On different vehicles and by foot. Mostly young men but some young girls too, staring, whispering, giggling…
Dineeer…says the cook. And eagerly we all taker our seats the green dining tent. The food is good five different dishes some beer and bread and all four of us are quite happy and ready to hit the bunk.

The staff insists – as last year, to eat separately and that is why we are slightly surprised when Adel sticks his head in to the tent
“ Exuuse meee, but the man…who owns this village invites you to his house..”

We all get out of the tent and In front of us stands a dozen men and in the middle a taller man who looks like he has some authority.
We are kindly invited to his house for dinner. The “ owner “ is the mayor of this community. Even if our need for food is very limited…we find it hard to refuse this gesture of hospitality. Our Chinese crew gets very nervous. This is little out of the ordinary and they ask us kindly to afterwards come directly back. Well, that not difficult.

Of we go on a scooter-like vehicle that fits six people. A short, bumpy ride later we are at the mayors house. More people to greet us.

The main room is a typical Uyghur style room. High ceilings, almost no windows and carpets and cushions on the floor. We all sit down – “we” are twelve people. All the important men in this community, I guess. In comes the food – first nuts, raisins, and dried fruits of all sorts. Some fresh yoghurt. And bread of course. “ Nan “ is always present.
We chat – with the help of Adel’s limited translation skills. The atmosphere is quite nice. And just as we are about to find a good excuse to wrap it up…then in comes the cooked lamb. And the local liquor. For gods…or Allah’s sake. Thought these people were true Muslims. Maybe they are but the so-called “Chinese white wine” is to drunk from big cups and emptied in one throw.

Chinese white wine has a very particular taste. Very.
Two hours after we finished one dinner - we were done withy the second one. Time to hit the bed.

The Chinese part of our crew is the same as last year – cook, driver and assistant. Our new horseman is far better than the grumpy old and limping Uyghur man from last August. New is also our guide/ interpreter – Adel. Twenty-five years old with kind brown eyes, thin moustache and a hunchback. He seems to be a good-hearted young man whop is scared of almost everything.
He has not been on a horse since he was two. That was when he fell off and almost drowned in a river. No wonder he is scared of horses. Very scared. The question is how on earth he has been chosen to this time. Either we must be out of our mind or then our Chinese partner has got something wrong. The latter is the case. This is China…

Feels kind of strange to sleep in tents again. The night was fairly chilly, +9 degrees Celsius. But it is ok. Benjamin and Jyrki slept on big mattresses and K and I on our new tent beds. Quite comfortable., but sand is everywhere…better to come to terms with it.

Next day goes without any hassle and for Jyrki it is time to try some horse back riding. After a few hours on the horse back he is convinced that this is something for him. His sore back has never felt better.

Next Morning, our team gets smaller as it is time for both Jyrki and Benjamin to leave us – B for Sydney and J for Helsinki.
As we prepare the horses for the third day, K says there is something wrong with his horse – Filip II. The horse does not want to eat. Not good. And now it a blessing with the big crowd that has gathered to look at these crazy Europeans.

Anybody knows if there is a vet around?...... yes, he lives next door.
An hour later we are ready to go. The verdict was that one big muscle in Filips tongue did not function due to too many cold nights. It needed some massage !.... and a needle stick in his tongues to get the blood circulating properly. This was all news to us. Live and learn..

Same scenery – brown sandy fields a village here and there and quite a lot of farm land. This is the so-called delta between Kashgar River and Yarkand River. Does not look like a delta to me. Next morning we have a problem again - Carl – the little black stallion is limping! Shit. After some recogno we do find a hooves smith. And it turns out that C has a wound on his left front foot….and that the salt from the road makes it worse. Trouble. After a lot of hassle and negotiations with every male in the village taking part we do manage to get hold of a truck and drive r that can transport the horse to our next campsite. Problem is that he can only do it at seven pm.

K and I decide to continue on horse while the horseman (his name is still unclear to me) stays behind. Everything under control?.... hmmm.

After a lot of waiting and wondering the truck finally arrives – with our translator. We load the horse, as it is getting darker. And finally we are on the road. All three horses – Carl, Filip II and Gustaf - since we did loose some valuable time we decide to drive a bit further. At around midnight we arrive at our pit stop at Sankachow. A really funky place. It is a truck stop on the main road east. With all its services…

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