Soon the child’s clear eye is clouded over by ideas and opinions, preconceptions and abstractions. Simple free being becomes encrusted with the burdensome armor of the ego. Not until years later does an instinct come that a vital sense of mystery has been withdrawn. The sun glints through the pines, and the heart is pierced in a moment of beauty and strange pain, like a memory of paradise. After that day . . . we become seekers.
--Peter Matthiessen
Leaving camp in a fergon of 5, we head out on the open road for the Khanhongor Sum where our Shagaa tournament will take place. We take a shortcut because already we are late. Why not take the way the crow flies? In Mongolia, it's totally possible.
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