We rose early, finished packing and trekked to the Golden Gobi Hostel where the entrance hall was piled high with provisions. There was no refusing the second breakfast of carrot laced fried eggs from Olgie's mum before being introduced to Victor, our softly spoken guide, and Eggy, our round faced, jolly driver. We headed back out into the biting chill and there, in gleaming nato green, perched on huge knobbly tyres was an ancient, but much loved, Russian military personnel carrier, 'Olive'. With embroidered seat covers, a Chesterfield style padded ceiling and a linoleum floor she was obviously Eggy's pride and joy. As the 4 of us sat facing each other, grinning madly at the awesomeness of the situation, none of us were prepared for the blast of Eurotrance which erupted from Eggy's sound system. We filled up the numerous fuel tanks, coaxed Olive to start again and headed out of town, with fuel vapours wafting through the cab. The asphalt soon gave way to dirt and we bounced around like beads in a maraca as Olive roared over bumps, ditches and small rivers, scattering sheep, goats, horses and very wooly cattle to the four winds as we headed south into the wilderness.

We got to know Simeon, a 30 year old Swedish personal trainer with an impressive beard and big plans for his 2 month stay in Mongolia, and Emilie, a 26 year old French safety and environmental scientist who was using this trip as a warm up to working on a ranch in the north of the country when we returned. We left all civilisation behind and stopped at a cairn where, to appease the shamans guiding our journey, we circled clockwise 3 times, adding a stone on each rotation. Fortunately we lacked the animal sacrifice which was customary for long excirsions, the evidence of which was piled high on the cairn.

For an hour or so we passed through long dry valleys, with flakes of snow on the ground and mountains in the distance. The enormity of the vista proved even more breathtaking than I could imagine as we passed the occasional yurt, often noticing an interested face peering out the door. We made an impromptu stop at one such gur camp for lunch and were warmly welcomed inside, despite it being an unplanned stop due to the presence of increasingly large snowflakes in the air.

As we stepped over the threshold the heat from inside was incredible and we were ushered to sit on the bed to the left of the door. Guests always stay to the west of the stove to allow us to admire the family's trophies on the North wall of the ger. This promoted easy conversation between we guests and our hosts who sat in the Eastern sector of the surprisingly spacious, circular nomadic home. Designed to move a couple of times a year the felt and wood construction was heated by an iron stove who's chimney rose through the roof, on which Victor cooked a very impressive stirfry from the vegetables which we chopped whilst attempting some Mongolian phrases, much to the families entertainment. They were excellent hosts and we drank tea, ate donut bread and generally marvelled at the tidy, cleanliness of the ger.

We were soon moving on and reached the local sacred mountain, whose rocky striations were very unusual and the various prayer flags and wheels gave the place a ghostly air. We carried on for another hour, drifting into a satiated post-prandial snooze before arriving at our overnight stop. We were greeted by an army of goats and 2 very friendly dogs, one with a horribly displaced radial fracture but which seemed very happy hopping around on 3 legs. The mother welcomed us inside where we had hot goats milk and dried biscuits before unloading our things into the nextdoor gur. We wandered around the animals, intrigued by the tiny felt coats that the minuscule newborn goat kids were strapped into and completely failed to make friends with the Mongol horse which was tacked up on a lazy line, ready to move the flock to pastures new.

Victor had obviously let slip we were vets and Bob and I were summoned to give our opinion on the mother's huge thyroid swelling which was not responding to the selenium tablets prescribed...we explained our lack of expertise but suggested that the weakness, tachycardia and persistent coughing warranted a trip to see a doctor in UB...

After settling in to our ger we played several hands of cards before finally working out how to master the stove which was essential to keep us warm overnight. As the fuel was dehydrated poo it brought a whole new meaning to 'throwing another log on the fire'... On that note we shall gloss over the toilet shack, only to say that it was a long way away and had a lovely view.

Victor appeared with tea and a chunky vegetable soup for supper and as soon as the sun set we were arranging our numerous sleeping bags to try and get comfortable on the floor. The father appeared with a new bucket of 'fuel' and, despite our best mongolian, insisted that he would keep coming back to tend the fire as 'it was not bedtime yet'. I fell asleep listening to the goats bleating, the fire crackling and the dogs occasionally barking at the wolves which were known to prowl the local tundra.