I watched my step as I pushed the bike off the road to set up camp for the third night, careful to avoid any lurking tarantulas. That night was spent in a constant state of low-level fear, mainly of animals. As darkness descended and I was alone in my tent on the hostile Ustyurt Plateau - tired, hungry, and of unsound mind, I heard one of my empty yogurt cups being repeatedly rammed into the ground. I decided to investigate only after concluding that, if upon exiting the tent I were to be locked in a struggle to the death with the mystery creature of the plateau, I would certainly emerge triumphant over any possible yogurt-eating fauna. But just in case, I sent a couple of pulses from the Dazer through the tent wall into the darkened Kazakh void in order to disorient the animal and thereby gain the upper hand in any of my subsequent dealings with it. But when I opened the tent door all I saw was the wind banging the empty yogurt cup on the moonlit ground. Much later in the night I woke up with my heart pounding when I heard a car come to a gravelly stop, then the sharp crack of a door closing. I kept waiting for the sound of footsteps through the scrub toward my tent, but they never came. The next morning when I woke up and realized I had made it safely through the night I felt pretty relieved, and also scoffed a bit at my night time heebie jeebies. (6-05-05)
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Wild Horse Family, Kazakhstan, Third Night |
