May 1

​The next day we are packed and off before dawn. Soon we pass above the tree-line, above the cypresses and into the mountain pastures. We stop to pick up firewood.

Remains of snow still linger in the high pastures. As we come within sight of a lake in a shallow bowl of hills the convoy begins to disperse. Half hidden In the grass are the stones of the fireplaces that mark a campsite. My friend explained that the exact location of summer camp sites follows tradition. Different families or groups have their own sites handed down year after year.
 
Soon we have finished our journey too. Along with a small number of other families there is a wild scramble to unload the trucks and to get the site organized.

​I have no skills or experience to offer in erecting the yurts or in setting up their interior screens and pallets. I help in digging the trench for a latrine to squat over. I test it out. Too wide and you overbalance. Too narrow and the sides get messed up. I help put up a screen made of reeds between it and the yurts. We set up a similar screened area for washing with buckets we fill from the lake. A large skin is stretched to catch any rainwater.