I knew the day was coming upon me, for the second time. The last week has been fleeting memories of riding with the Belgian brothers, Matthieu and Lucas of NESW by Bike. Walking outside today with a short sleeve shirt on and remembering walking along snow and ice with frozen boots, over the Irkeshtam Pass…freezing.
There is something about cycling with someone, or a pair of brothers, that is very special and a bond that will last forever. I can even hear their voices echoing in my thoughts today. But there is something even more special of a bond when you work together as a team to make it through some of the toughest days I’ve seen. It was not the first risky place I’d been, and surely not the last, although my tour would only continue for about 5 months afterwards.
I’ve cycled with a total of 4 men, and each one of them has a special place in my heart. The first went on for 6 weeks and the last would be only 3 days, although we would spend a lot of time stuck in Dushanbe together. The word “partner” means something to me that most people can not define and I can’t with words. Even now, one years and 4 months from my temporary retirement, the idea of “relationship”, “partner”, “friend” take on a completely different meaning.
A partner is someone that encourages you to excel, encourages you to push beyond those barriers set only by yourself, encourages you to live your dream and passion even if it may mean they are absent during those times. Not just someone to help carry the water, the gear, or fix a puncture or set up camp. A partner is someone you can go an entire day without speaking and then under a star filled sky, you share your personal epiphanies that were dreamed up during the day. Excitement in each other’s voices, recognizing where these thoughts come from…deep within the wandering soul…searching for something more within themselves and the world. Respect for one another and appreciation of the differences that in all reality, make the team that much stronger.
There are a few men I encountered along my travels that I never cycled with or spent time with on the road…and these few are still very special to me. The ones I can write to when I’m bogged down with “reality”, when I am having a hard time finding my footing, a relationship between two people that remind one another of their strength’s. They are also the ones I can write to when I have exciting news or something happening in my life and they share my excitement. We share excitement through emails and Skype of our future plans, or map purchases, or just the simple act of discussing dinner plans.
Sure, if I were to sum up my trip I would say it’s when I learned to love myself. But, I also learned what it’s like to care about and love strangers, just for the simple fact we are all looking for something more in our life, in the universe. Whether we are on 2 wheels, in a bus, walking, hitch-hiking…we all know there is something more out there for us. We’ve chosen an unconventional path to find the answers in our life and as a group of dirtbags, misfits, hobos, gypsies…it’s our duty to help our partners when we see struggle.
Let’s put down that ego of who has cycled the furthest, the most countries, the highest peak, who has done it solo or with a girlfriend or boyfriend. Who cares if they take a bus, who cares if they fly somewhere, who cares if the bike is thrown on the back of a lorry for a day, who cares? Why should anyone care about how someone else wants to conduct their journey? Surely, we all know, there are those that are out for the records and the glory but that’s not my game nor for the company I keep. We do it because we all need answers…we all having a burning desire…a curiosity that MUST be answered within this lifetime.
One of my biggest pieces of advice, for solo travelers especially, is to keep these people you will meet on the road close to your heart. When you return home you will need these people and they will need you. The partnership will never end, the bond is tighter than any chain that my bicycle has ever had rotating around that steel drive train.
We celebrate our last day together, in Osh Kyrgyzstan, with ice cream! Until our next adventure together….
April 18th
Matt
Lucas
Yes, Team Windbraker Carrots were supposed to continue on into Uzbekistan for a few weeks. What happened? We walked into our host’s apartment in Osh. Louis and Karen’s apartment walls are covered in maps. They had a route from Tajikistan into Uzbekistan…it was literally 2 minutes and the route “clicked”. I am too close to the Pamirs to NOT GO. So…here I go…Kyrgyzstan -> Kazakhstan -> Uzbekistan -> Tajikistan (Pamir Highway) -> Kyrgyzstan -> China.
They were saddened to see me go, I was a little apprehensive to leave them behind but I’m saccustomed to being alone. Someone recently asked if it’s quicker for me to adapt to being with partners or alone. Honestly, I think I adapt quicker when solo. It’s just what I’m accustomed to…you know, ain’t nothing personal!
I did get short with them one day, as I was feeling very emotionally fragile. As a team of 3, 2 being family…it was 2 vs 1. Usually we can shoot the shit and pick on each other with no problems…but there were some days I was just kind of…”absent”/”fragile”/just not all together. I need the days of solo to figure stuff out.
Don’t worry, they cared for me well after I let them know I was very fragile.
Okay, so here I go, recounting the worse April Fool’s Day joke yet. And, the second most fearful time of my life. (The first being a pretty bad car wreck, where I saw my life flash before my eyes…before being thrown into the backseat headrest from the front passenger seat.)
I shove my head outside around 8am and exclaim to the tent next to me, “Oh my god, this may be the most beautiful sunrise ever!” I race out of my tent with my camera and tell the boys to chill for a little while, I’m working.
View from my tent at around 8am:
Campsite, around 8:30am:
Other images won’t be posted here, sorry. Also, no more large res images loaded – too much download activity on this site.
When I put on my frozen socks and take a walk outside. My boots are so stiff from the water freezing in the soles. This is going to be an awesome day!
The boys push off about 15 minutes before me. We can see the pass winding up the hill, black speckles (the trucks) coming down the pass.
We are estimating about 15km to the pass.
The wind begins to kick up. The sun is bright, beautiful clouds to our West.
There is a new hand signal from the drivers today. They continually make a throat cutting gesture from behind the driver’s wheel. What, death? Do you mean “death” as you slice your throat?! Okay, whatever, lets move on.
The roads are getting worse and worse. The wind picking up. Big clouds moving through the sky.
10:43 AM
11:31 AM
We sit on the side of the road before ice wall’s so the traffic can pass. Then we hustle the best we can over the ice to get to a clearing.
11:45 AM
I distinctly remember this driver. He was expressing to Matt about the skies and the road ahead and urging us to go faster. He did the same thing to me and pushed my bike past his truck. He showed a genuine concern for us and kept pointing at the clouds looming ahead.
To the right of the truck, you can see the pass leading up the hill. We have about 10km left.
We’ve been dealing with ice wall’s for awhile now. Today is the worse day. Traffic is stopped and we try to help one another throw our bikes up onto the snow…digging in the best we can. We stick close together, one will throw their bike in and then run to assist – usually me. Again, my bike weighs considerably more.
This is an example of the ice wall. Again, continually getting truck drivers cutting their throats at us.
Around noon, we are still on the 8 and half incline up the pass and the trucks are passing through the single lane. Lucas is well ahead and it’s just Matt and I.
I pull my bike out of the snow, as it’s about a half meter up the ice wall from the previous truck. I had climbed the wall and Matt had shoved the bike on top of me. I had snow in my boots and mittens but I was a safe distance from the truck.
Not 5 minutes later there is another truck coming towards us. Matt runs up with his bike and throws it up in the snow. I don’t have time. I press bike against the ice wall and then me.
Matt: “Are you sure you want to be there?”
Me: “It’s ok, I haven’t got a choice.”
The next place would of been exactly where I had been.
I make eye contact with the driver, at nearly eye level. I’m watching the tail end of the truck. It’s coming closer and closer and closer AND CLOSER…I’m in between the bike and the truck. The truck is a couple centimeters from my handlebars and bags and I envision myself getting pulled in with the bike under the wheel well….
The second loudest scream on tour as I envision my bowels being cut open by the truck. Or the bike being clipped and pulling me into the wheels, with me in between.
Lesson Learned: When a riding partner doubts your decision in life or death moments…DOUBT YOUR DECISION.
12:41
We take a break after the death ice wall, Matt shares the story with Lucas and the decision has been made to have lunch at the top of the pass…about 3km away.
12:46
It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
1:00 PM
Something strange is beginning to happen. You can see the ice begin to fly from behind me. I had jumped over an ice wall to block the wind and get out of the way.
I begin to bundle up but then realize my zipper is broken on my jacket and my mittens are shoved with snow. Ducking into the ice wall, Matt comes back and tells me we have to get going…there’s a storm coming in.
Within seconds it’s a complete white out. The pass is about a kilometer away. I’m slipping in strength and I look back at Matt, “Just go on without me, I can’t keep up” as I’m blinded by blowing snow and ice. “Don’t be stupid, Ellen”, was stated very calmly and with a bit of love and concern.
We make it to the peak, a little over 3700m high, in the midst of a storm. Pressing our bodies against an ice wall, we have no idea what we should do. We are all silent. Waiting, freezing…knowing this is really bad.
A car comes by, after a couple of minutes arranging prices, they say they will take us to Sary-Tash for 100USD. No one has USD on them so we convince them to take 100 Euros. Little do they know they are getting more money out of it.
1:54 PM:
Bikes loaded.
As we were preparing to get in the car, I brushed my hand against my face. Something felt very weird. I touched my face again…what’s going on with my skin? (Later in the car, the boys would tell me my face was frozen and it was the scariest thing they had seen in their lives. My skin was beginning to turn blue, according to them. Ever since this day, I go by the nickname, “Ice Face”. Tough…eh?)
We load into the tiny car and as the seat in front is lowered, I can feel pressure on my frozen toe. We all begin screaming to get the passenger up. I didn’t nearly lose my toe from the storm, but by an old car seat being lowered onto it.
They begin towards Sary-Tash. There are a few trucks pulled over and everyone waving around the “X” symbol. The road is closed. We can’t continue. They tell us we have to go back to the town on the border.
SHIT! 3 DAYS AND WE ARE GOING BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED. No choice. No option.
As the car turns around and we head back, the driver points to the left. Lucas and I gasp as there is a frozen horse upside down, hooves mid air – in the midst of a run. What is going on?
The blizzard lasts for close to 2 hours, complete white out. The passenger will get out to help the car around. Sometimes both getting out to help oncoming traffic get through.
We have all moved our boots and socks. I’m repeatedly told I’m going to have to have my toes cut off. The boys shove theirs in their sleeping bags and mine are shoved in my hat…heels exposed.
It’s a tight fit in the car, and I’m sitting in the middle. I can see the gas gauge, nearly empty.
The driver is miming to us that we may have to sleep in the car. Every time both of them leave, the 3 of us are trying to figure out if it means we are sleeping there for the night.
I start my prayers of “oh mani padme hum”…the sky begins to break…I see sunshine…….I shove my head out the window with the loudest “Hallelujah” you’d ever hear.
The storm is over after nearly 2 hours. It takes us 6 hours to make it to their home. Where will be fed and cared for.
This will be an unforgettable April Fool’s Day, uniting the brothers of North East South West by Bike and the Wander Cyclist for ever.
April 2nd,
The driver will give us a ride to Sary-Tash. Where from there, we are able to hire a van to Osh. We are exhausted…we are on time lines…we nearly died – and me twice.
The daughter of the driver is attached to me. She loves having her photo taken and even struts as if she is on a catwalk at one point. She’s darling and also really wants my ring. I let her play with my eyeglasses instead. She stayed by my side during most of the visit and during our breaks on the car ride.
My mom recently asked me, “What were you thinking before the car picked you up?”
Honestly, I don’t know…nor do I remember. I just know I was really concerned about my soaking wet, cold feet. The boys and I did a tally on how many toes and fingers would of been lost if we hadn’t been picked up. We are pretty sure there would of been at least 3 lost – probably all mine.
I love you Matt and Lucas. Really.
Day 8: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – April 1 2012 May 8th, 2012WanderCyclist
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.
Day 5: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 29 2012 May 2nd, 2012WanderCyclist
The newly united, and temporary, Team Windbraker Carrots.
Left to Right, “Captain”, “Supervisor”, and “Auntie” (later to be renamed to “Ice Face”).
It was a short, uneventful day. The roads in good condition and friendly folks along the way. We began the steady incline to the border.
I think one of the greatest things about being a cyclo (a person who uses a bike to tour/travel) is the fellow cyclos you meet. I’ve made so many friends from all over the world. After spending nearly 2 weeks with the Belgium brothers, I’ve come to love Brussels and have learned A LOT about Belgium. Granted, I already knew about the beer…but the price is nothing compared to those swank beer boutiques in NYC.
They would tell me about Belgium and ask me questions about the States. A lot of the info taken from movies and pop culture. It was good to have to opportunity to state Hollywood is a bunch of bullshit. Sharing cultures is amazing when traveling by 2 wheels.
Now I have 2 new little brothers and a home in Brussels! How rad…if I don’t say so myself.
The friends you make touring will last a lifetime. Also, you may even learn another language and culture. “merci gaste!”
March 25, 2012 – Day 1 of Kashgar to Sary-Tash April 13th, 2012WanderCyclist
March 24 2012
Our dinner together, in Kashgar Xinjiang, as the next morning “Team Windbraker Carrots” would be leaving for Kyrgyzstan.
This gives you a view of a traditional tea house in Kashgar and along the Silk Road. When I’m traveling by myself, it can be very uncomfortable walking into a restaurant of 20+ men and there I am…a solo foreign woman walking in. Talk about making the record skip…it sends the damn vinyl off the turntable into the wall.
“Everybody’s Watching.” April 11th, 2012WanderCyclist
March 24 2012
Our dinner together, in Kashgar Xinjiang, as the next morning “Team Windbraker Carrots” would be leaving for Kyrgyzstan.
This gives you a view of a traditional tea house in Kashgar and along the Silk Road. When I’m traveling by myself, it can be very uncomfortable walking into a restaurant of 20+ men and there I am…a solo foreign woman walking in. Talk about making the record skip…it sends the damn vinyl off the turntable into the wall.
“Everybody’s Watching.” April 11th, 2012WanderCyclist
