We wake up fairly well rested and in good spirits. Lucas demonstrates a skill I would NEVER do. Running my bag along a filthy “lu-guan” floor. No way. Notice the socks on the stove. Imagine the smell. Lucas…you smell! But I still love you guys.
Packed up and we ride a quarter of kilometer to the border crossing. We are waved in. Everything from this point…begins to fall apart.
Guard: Where are your Exit stamps?
Us: That’s what we are here for.
Guard looks over the Passports, gives a big sigh, sits back in his chair. Crosses his arms…looks at his with disappointment.
Guard: You have broken Chinese law, the fine is 1000 Euros.
This is said with a stone cold face. The three of us look at each other, dumbfounded…and with a twinkle of fear in our eyes.
Guard: I’m just joking.
After some phone calls we are told that we were supposed to get our Exit stamp in Wuqia, 160km BACK! What?! We didn’t know this. Of course we didn’t…it’s been new since January 2012.
There is some begging and pleading. Please, is there anything we can do. There is nothing. They are border control, they can not do anything in regards to the Exit Entry Bureau.
We are instructed to take our bikes and bags back to Wuqia. We ask if we can leave the bikes/bags there and just go without. He says, “no, everything must be inspected.”
He tells me that we can take a truck back to town.
Me: But how are we to get back. All the trucks will be full.
Guard: No, there will be plenty of empty trucks. There will be some. I have called them and they are waiting your arrival.
Oh, on top of this. It’s Thursday morning. The border is closed on weekends and will be closing EARLY ON FRIDAY because of a holiday. We literally have 24 hours to get there, get back, and get through. Because of the road conditions, it takes a truck a full day to cover this mileage.
I put my bike in the back of the truck with a Han driver. There is no where to tie it to, nothing. In the center of the truck there is about a meter drop where additional things can be stored. The driver is rushing me and I set my bike on it’s side, fully loaded. Hoping the weight will keep it still. BUT, if the bike were to slide a meter it will drop into this pit…and probably…just probably…end my ride. I take a deep breath, say my “oh mani padme hum” and jump out.
The trick to loading a bike in a big rig, is to get it as close to the front as possible. The back of the truck bounces around too much. Two memorable times of hitching with Brandon was once in a dump truck. Dear god, poor Guy sat in the back holding onto both bikes. I swore he must of lost a 1/4 of his hearing. The second time was going into TAR…and the bikes were strapped on top of a mountain of coal. Yes. A massive truck of coal.
So I head into town first…screaming at the boys out the window “load it as close to the front as possible!”
We don’t have a meeting place set except the Exit Entry Bureau. We have no cell phone contact.
It’s early so the roads are dry and not yet washed out. My driver is a pain in the ass and realizes I can speak Mandarin. Then he talks about money…then I pretend not to speak Chinese.
His partner breaks down and we pull over. I’ve been clenching my teeth the entire time thinking over and over in my head how much my bike has slid around.
I get out and demand to get in the back. He waves me away as he works on his cronies truck.
Driver: It’s nothing, it’s okay.
Me: No! I want to look at.
Driver: Oh it’s nothing. It’s nothing.
Me: NO!!!! If my bike falls into that it’s broken. Mei banfa!!! (Which translates to “no method”).
He huffs and puffs and walks around back and opens the truck…we gasp simultaneously.
The bike has slid all the way to the back and bottles and my fuel tank for my stove are everywhere.
Shit.
He goes back to work and I unload my bags and set them in the drop for cushioning. Then I lie the bike on top and use my bungees to strap her in nice and snug. If he hadn’t stop and I hadn’t demanded…I would of been…it would of been over.
I get to the Exit Entry Bureau in about 6 hours. I get my stamp. I’m looking at my Entry and Exit stamp. It’s been 366 days since entering China. I think it’s time for me to get out.
They know I’m waiting for the guys and I sit inside for about 2 hours chatting up the officials. They all speak near perfect Mandarin, which is a nice change after not being able to speak Uyghur.
The Bureau closes. I wait outside. The sunsets…I wait more for the boys. I haven’t seen any trucks come down and so I assume there must be bad road conditions. What am I to do. I sit and wait until nearly 9:30 and then ride to town.
I go back to the restaurant we all ate at and try to eat slowly. But I’m starving.
Return outside and I sit on the curb near the restaurant. If those boys have any sense…they’ll come here.
Nearly 11 pm and I hear my name being shouted with a beautiful French accent. We are reunited with smiles on our faces and breaths of relief.
The boys eat their dinner and we head to a hotel. I’m able to haggle the price down based on the condition of the room. Wuqia is another place where foreigners have a real difficult time finding a place to stay. I also have the boys use their id’s because the Bureau is holding onto my Passport because I have an Exit stamp but still in China.
We have showers, complain about not having internet, yet excited we may actually make it to Kyrgyzstan the next day.
*Please scroll down about 6 entries to find the information on Exit/Entry of China via this crossing.
