Due to the difficult circumstances, apart from flour and rice we slowly run out of all foodstuff apart from flour and rice. The entrance of the National Park is only about eight miles away and we must be able to cover this distance in a day. Many of us are badly in need of some civilization while Sasha and Bair need to figure out how to carry on with the horses. For not only did we lose two of them the rest have bad saddle wounds on their backs. Without any doubt in the future we need to bring our own riding equipment. It is already a miracle that our horses made it this far with those tattered blankets and patched up saddles. By noon we emerge from the taiga, the sun shines out and the horses all perk up a bit. Even the most tired ones break into trot and gallop as they sense the nearness of home. Though there is one more challenge to face though: the river Barguzin. It has flooded from the heavy rains and our guides snigger as they show us how far up our waists the water will creep when we cross over. We wouldn’t mind getting wet but we are a bit concerned about our packs. A few minutes under water and we might have to face wet tents and sleeping bags that night. We find a place where the river forks into two and prints of a tractor wheel show that the situation is not completely hopeless. We plunge forward. The two smaller horses are almost swept away. The river really does reach up to our waists. Eventually everyone arrives on the other shore safely and we seem to have managed to keep our packs dry too. Only the saddlebags filled up with water. One of our mares had her tiny filly with her too and it must be mentioned here that this filly apart from being a friendly and happy part of our team endured all the difficulties of the journey without a single whinny, so to speak. Of course she had nothing to carry but her mother being a tiny Mongolian breed it is quite incredible how she managed to clamber up those rocks and to swim across those rivers. So this is how the local horses become so tough and enduring. They start training as soon as they are born on the rough Siberian terrain. In the evening we set our camp up by the river and the horses are taken for inspection to Dzsargal. Meanwhile we cook a wild mushroom stew and speculate on what to do. Later on Dzsargal himself shows up and suggests that we go for a rest for a few days to the nearby health baths and then see what next. “No chance mate”, we say, we had already paid for eleven days in advance and we want to ride. Finally, after lengthy discussions we agree to visit an old hunting lodge in one of the nearby valleys in the remaining time. We open a bottle of vodka to celebrate the plan and agree to meet the following day.