A bumpy bit of off-roading led us to the ger camps. A part of me was a bit disappointed that the ger camp we'd arrived at had a restaurant next door, with western toilets and spacious warm showers. Suppose my dream of using a hole in the floor would have to wait til China... Shortly after arriving we went for a hike and climbed a few small mountains - the grip on my 2 year old Fred Perry plimsoles struggling! We followed this up with a dip in a river nearby. Little did we know that the bus driver, a chubby middle aged Mongolian guy, was to strip to the ankles and follow us in. He did break into a fine breast stroke though!

We then did a bit of archery, where none of us hit the target and dressed up in traditional Mongolian gear. It was around this time the honch turned to me and said ''let's wrestle, Mongolian style!''. In Mongolian wrestling, your hands and feet can touch the floor, but you have to get any other body part of your opponent to touch the ground to win. I'd noticed the scars on his head but couldn't tell if these were marks of a seasoned wrestler or the scars of a beating. I hoped for the latter and went windmilling in, and was taken down pretty swiftly! The wrestling continued and drinking games picked up as the sun went down. Despite my performance with Getso, everyone seemed to want to wrestle me first, think to get their confidence up!

As the sun rose, we discovered our wrestling wounds and grabbed some breakfast. We got on our horses as planned and rode over to turtle rock. The horses were all pretty calm, apart from the Italians, who started running and flipped him off. Afer being dragged about 5 metres he managed to get his foot out the stirrup so luckily, nothing too serious happened! First the quadbike, now the horse. Guy's having problems with his transport...