Tim Cope
Where did your journey start and why?
I started the journey on 27 June 2004 with the aim of riding from Mongolia to the edge of the Eurasian Steppe in Hungary. I started from the capital of the ancient Mongolian empire, Karakorum, and travelled like a Mongol – like Genghis Khan – on horseback. The empire ended where the Eurasian Steppe ends, at the Danube River. Nomads have been living and migrating across the Eurasian Steppe for thousands of years and, in a way, this journey was a tribute to them. I wanted to try to get to grips with the current connections between the Hungarians, the Hutsuls, the Tatars, the Cossacks, the Kazakhs and the Mongols. It was fascinating. I haven’t done anything new – over thousands of years, millions of people have made this journey, but no-one has done it in recent times, and certainly not with the aim of documenting it.
And you travelled on horseback the whole way?
Long before the Mongols were riding horses, they were hunting them on the Eurasian Steppe. Logically, the easiest way to hunt a horse is to be on a horse and, eventually, the only way to herd horses is to be on a horse. So from the very beginning, it was the key to survival, and because of that, there’s a wonderful respect for horses. It’s the only way you can travel and understand the nomadic way of life.
I understand your horses were stolen shortly after you left
As a foreigner, it’s very difficult to buy good horses, so I had to hide in the yurt while a friend of mine from Ulaanbaatar bought my three horses. Five days into my journey, two of them were stolen while I slept. I’d prepared for the trip for a year and a half, but you can’t prepare for something like that. I woke up at 2am and heard people on horses galloping away with them. So I got on the remaining horse and went to look for them and spotted them among a huge herd of horses. The guy herding behind them suggested that my horses had run away because I’d tied them badly, but of course they’d been stolen. Anyway, we sat down and had some fermented mare’s milk while he tied me some new halters and taught me some important lessons. ‘In the Steppe, you have to always make friends and when you’re going to camp, even if there’s a yurt on the far horizon, you’ve got to go there, get to know them and ask permission to sleep there,’ he said. ‘You will be under their protection and nothing will happen to you.’ That was the key to my trip, and I ended up spending time with about 170 different families.
How did you arrange to stay with people along the way?
Most of the time, you just turn up. Nomads live on this huge open steppe, and when I suddenly turned up on horseback looking like a lost Russian geologist, and they found out what I was doing, they had a great respect for it because their ancestors – even their grandparents – made these long journeys on horse as well. And in Kazakh culture, for example, a guest is a sign of good luck and must be welcomed into your home. It isn’t a transaction; it’s a recognition that you’ll each become a part of each other’s lives. And as long as you recognise that and you try to keep in contact with them and make them feel that you won’t forget them, that’s the greatest gift you can give. I slept in my tent probably 50–60 per cent of the time.
What cultural similarities did you encounter?
I rode for three days with one of the Mongolians from whom I bought the horses and he taught me some knots. One in particular, called the horseman’s knot, turned out to be crucial. In Kazakhstan, they asked me: ‘How do you know this knot? This is a Kazakh knot.’ And in Kalmikia in the southern Russian steppe, they asked me: ‘How do you know this knot? This is a Kalmik knot?’ Then, in Crimea, they said it was a Tatar knot. And just two weeks from the finish, Peter Kun, an academic who has spent three years in Kazakhstan and Mongolia studying Turkic languages and the cultural links between the Mongols, the Kazakhs and the Hungarians in relation to horsemanship and language, tied the same knot, saying: ‘This is a Cuman knot.’ The Ukrainians don’t know it, the Russians don’t know it and the Europeans don’t know it. Also, the language with regards to horses is similar all the way across the Eurasian Steppe because the nomadic languages are all basically Turkic.
You’ve completed journeys by cycle, kayak and now horse. Which method is best?
This trip was 100 times more difficult and 100 times more interesting. You’re forced, whether you like it or not, to become dependent on the local people and local knowledge, and the whole trip revolved around the horses. You have to learn the same skills and mentality as the local people or the horses won’t survive. You have to know all of the different grasses, where to look for water, how to
be a guest, how to have a guest and so much more. It was fascinating, but sometimes very hard going. When you’ve come out of a really difficult time and you feel like things can’t get any worse, the next thing you know, you’re being invited into this wonderful family who accept you as their own and give you some vodka and a really big tasty meal of steaming camel or horse meat or whatever. It’s the richest experience I’ve ever had, having the closeness with people who live so far away from where I grew up in Australia. I really valued their openness and hospitality.
January 2008
I started the journey on 27 June 2004 with the aim of riding from Mongolia to the edge of the Eurasian Steppe in Hungary. I started from the capital of the ancient Mongolian empire, Karakorum, and travelled like a Mongol – like Genghis Khan – on horseback. The empire ended where the Eurasian Steppe ends, at the Danube River. Nomads have been living and migrating across the Eurasian Steppe for thousands of years and, in a way, this journey was a tribute to them. I wanted to try to get to grips with the current connections between the Hungarians, the Hutsuls, the Tatars, the Cossacks, the Kazakhs and the Mongols. It was fascinating. I haven’t done anything new – over thousands of years, millions of people have made this journey, but no-one has done it in recent times, and certainly not with the aim of documenting it.
And you travelled on horseback the whole way?
Long before the Mongols were riding horses, they were hunting them on the Eurasian Steppe. Logically, the easiest way to hunt a horse is to be on a horse and, eventually, the only way to herd horses is to be on a horse. So from the very beginning, it was the key to survival, and because of that, there’s a wonderful respect for horses. It’s the only way you can travel and understand the nomadic way of life.
I understand your horses were stolen shortly after you left
As a foreigner, it’s very difficult to buy good horses, so I had to hide in the yurt while a friend of mine from Ulaanbaatar bought my three horses. Five days into my journey, two of them were stolen while I slept. I’d prepared for the trip for a year and a half, but you can’t prepare for something like that. I woke up at 2am and heard people on horses galloping away with them. So I got on the remaining horse and went to look for them and spotted them among a huge herd of horses. The guy herding behind them suggested that my horses had run away because I’d tied them badly, but of course they’d been stolen. Anyway, we sat down and had some fermented mare’s milk while he tied me some new halters and taught me some important lessons. ‘In the Steppe, you have to always make friends and when you’re going to camp, even if there’s a yurt on the far horizon, you’ve got to go there, get to know them and ask permission to sleep there,’ he said. ‘You will be under their protection and nothing will happen to you.’ That was the key to my trip, and I ended up spending time with about 170 different families.
How did you arrange to stay with people along the way?
Most of the time, you just turn up. Nomads live on this huge open steppe, and when I suddenly turned up on horseback looking like a lost Russian geologist, and they found out what I was doing, they had a great respect for it because their ancestors – even their grandparents – made these long journeys on horse as well. And in Kazakh culture, for example, a guest is a sign of good luck and must be welcomed into your home. It isn’t a transaction; it’s a recognition that you’ll each become a part of each other’s lives. And as long as you recognise that and you try to keep in contact with them and make them feel that you won’t forget them, that’s the greatest gift you can give. I slept in my tent probably 50–60 per cent of the time.
What cultural similarities did you encounter?
I rode for three days with one of the Mongolians from whom I bought the horses and he taught me some knots. One in particular, called the horseman’s knot, turned out to be crucial. In Kazakhstan, they asked me: ‘How do you know this knot? This is a Kazakh knot.’ And in Kalmikia in the southern Russian steppe, they asked me: ‘How do you know this knot? This is a Kalmik knot?’ Then, in Crimea, they said it was a Tatar knot. And just two weeks from the finish, Peter Kun, an academic who has spent three years in Kazakhstan and Mongolia studying Turkic languages and the cultural links between the Mongols, the Kazakhs and the Hungarians in relation to horsemanship and language, tied the same knot, saying: ‘This is a Cuman knot.’ The Ukrainians don’t know it, the Russians don’t know it and the Europeans don’t know it. Also, the language with regards to horses is similar all the way across the Eurasian Steppe because the nomadic languages are all basically Turkic.
You’ve completed journeys by cycle, kayak and now horse. Which method is best?
This trip was 100 times more difficult and 100 times more interesting. You’re forced, whether you like it or not, to become dependent on the local people and local knowledge, and the whole trip revolved around the horses. You have to learn the same skills and mentality as the local people or the horses won’t survive. You have to know all of the different grasses, where to look for water, how to
be a guest, how to have a guest and so much more. It was fascinating, but sometimes very hard going. When you’ve come out of a really difficult time and you feel like things can’t get any worse, the next thing you know, you’re being invited into this wonderful family who accept you as their own and give you some vodka and a really big tasty meal of steaming camel or horse meat or whatever. It’s the richest experience I’ve ever had, having the closeness with people who live so far away from where I grew up in Australia. I really valued their openness and hospitality.
January 2008
 | |
 | |
2. Bangkok's ghost towers 3. UK population to exceed 100 million 4. Wild west a dusty place 5. NEW! Free Geographical wallpapers | |
 FREE DIGITAL ISSUE |
|