Man make shelter with big logs. Now all man needs is harem.
The shores of lake Hovsgol, a gently rippling emerald blue expanse lined with pebbles and driftwood and framed with sweeping mountains and deep forest. And the water is so clean you can drink it - I have and it tasted rather nice.
Man find more bigger logs and lean them together. Perhaps man make fire later? Not for warmth, man warm already from moving big logs, just to burn stuff.
This pretty much came out as an advert for Silva, but I like the picture because it gets the atmosphere of the inside of the cab quite well... sort of.
The offending calliper, bleeding yet more precious brake fluid into the Mongolian soil. Not that you can really see much (the brake fluid is the black looking stuff just inside the rim of the wheel).
A while ago, I suggested I might whittle a new door button as the high quality rugged original Land Rover one popped out. Dad laughed. The lesson here is to never underestimate the power of a person who has read 'Ray Mears Bushcraft Survival', and has a sharp knife and an almost unlimited supply of driftwood (and time). I'm working on the calliper...
We managed to get stuck leaning alarmingly sideways ("go right, go right, go right... CRASH... no not that far right"). We were trying to avoid getting stuck in the bog to our left, so a helpful guy in a Land Cruiser pulled us upright by the roof rack and we were able to drive out.
From the top there was a view over the whole of Lake Hovsgol.
Extreme dining on top of a mountain (note pot of shredded vegetables in oil - unlikely to ever be eaten).