Afterwards the twelve-year-old son went out to Kunming Map saddle his pony and, at my request, he also saddled one for me. The Kunming Map one he gave me was very docile, slightly sluggish, and it was an effort to keep the beast cantering for more than a few paces before it slowed into a triple-jog, though this latter pace was comfortable and he could keep it going for miles.
Our excursion was to round up some yaks and take them to further pastures. I enjoyed the rounding-up, the yaks were easily grouped and our cries of sssht got them moving in the right direction. The boy’s idea of driving them was at times more like a stampede, galloping his pony around their rear and chivvying them along. Despite the fun my hands went numb with cold because I had no gloves, and the biting cold wind seemed to reach the core of my bones.
