Much of my journey in Kazakhstan was about understanding the legacy of the Soviet times and finding out what remained of nomadic.

I love the Altai Mountains. Crimea, despite all the conflict, is a remarkable place historically, culturally and physically. The mountains drop down into the sea. Porpoises swim in the shallows. Horses gallop through the grass. There are huge rocks, castles, caves.

In wider spaces, people bearing historical grudges with each other were separated by the muting qualities of distance.

Had I not stepped into the saddle in the first place, entire cultures, histories, and most importantly, profound connections with people and animals whom I now counted as my friends would have otherwise passed by, invisible.