It loomed into view like a madman’s mirage. Yet it was our only way of crossing the river on our way to Jargalant, in the provice of Hovd, about 800kms from UlaanBataar, in Mongolia. There was much discussion between our drivers. A lot of arm waving, pacing the bridge, jumping up and down and laughing as the occasional pank moved up and down, squeaking. Eventually, the lead driver set off, grinning. He had hardly reached the first cranky rise when the others followed. We held our breath but despite the apparent haphazard nature of the structure it held firm as the drivers obviously knew it would. Not even a wobble. Much grinning, a few celebratory pictures and we were on our way again. The bridge is testament to the ingenuity and prowess of the original builders and shrugged off the puny test we had given it.