A bicycle trip of 2322 km without traffic lights – from the Russian Altai Mountains in the west to Ulaanbaatar in the east – most of the time on roads that make most forest paths look like highways. I still do not understand how I managed to keep up my morale on the Mongolian dirt roads. I soon realised that I probably was the biggest attraction in Mongolia since the last visit of the Dalai Lama. A man on a heavily-loaded bicycle makes even the most busy driver or nomad stop or come riding from many kilometres to check out the phenomenon. Unfortunately, my ability to speak the Mongolian language is almost non-existent, so these meetings passed in almost the same way every time. First, we said “hello” to each other in Mongolian. After that I was asked about something, in Mongolian, and I answered with words like “Denmark” or “Ulaanbaatar”, which I thought would answer their questions. After this, the conversation died out, and we spoke a little to each other in our own languages until I got tired of the séance and continued my journey. The meetings also took place when I had erected my tent. Even when I thought I had found the most hidden and outlying spot on the whole steppe, there was always a herder who had seen me with his binoculars, who then came galloping up to me during my dinner, dress-change, toilet or other moments in the evening.