.. the road from Ulaanbaatar to the south-eastern Dalandazdag the edge of the Gobi desert and 'long 650 km and with the rains of July and' transformed into a huge swamp endless ..
Wrong track twice but the third attempt mouth that good, just an hour before the GPS is finally me completely filled with water ..
.. the first day I manage quite well but the second forces me fail, too hard to drive in these conditions, I'm tired, sometimes also used two hours to free the bike from the mud .. 
.. I fall twice but the third and 'the fatal beating with a face on the windshield, face down on the ground and a hot liquid over me sweet mouth .. I have the upper lip split the two, judging by eye I need at least 2 points and the left shoulder to be dislocated, I recall the words of Dominique met a few days before "you were born in the year of the dog and you are faithful like a dog to your decisions, in some cases until death, "desist from reaching the Gobi ..
.. I do not know where I am and asks for hospitality 'in a ger, Oiun a girl of only 14 years lovingly takes care of me by asking a mix up throughout the mouth (the smell should be done with 99% goat shit) and the night when he returned his father, a descendant in direct line of Genghis Kahn, a knee with my system, my shoulder, I thought I had torn my arm
.. The next day, always with the help of Oiun, I try to fix the bike, call missing two lamps, an arrow, I split the fairing with the mouth, the GPS shows no signs of life and compass I had in my pocket and 'completely shattered ..
.. I stay with them two days trying to get started in the third milking of the goats but I feel it forces me and childbirth, fuck the words of Dominique, still point towards the Gobi desert .. 
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