Featuring yours truly in the first minute!
video
I dance more than you KNOW…
…BUT now you do.
Buzkashi
After 4 months riding through Central Asia, I was disappointed to not see a game of Buzkashi. My last day in Kyrgyzstan, the second time around, I pushed my bike through a field to greet the large group of men and horses.
Sorry about the dot in the center, seems there is some water in my lens from my river swimming.
Pamirs v2.0 – and a little about my bonehead move.
After my first attempt into the Pamirs, and a return to Dushanbe during the fighting…I will be going back out in 1 day…hopefully.
In the meantime, here is a little bit of what I’ve already gone through:
The 22nd, the day the KGB boss was killed and started the fighting…I pulled a bonehead move.
I came to a river. I knew Chris (a guy I had ridden with for 3 days) had crossed it so I figured I could too.
The second push in the brown muddy water, waves went over my front panniers and the tire wasn’t touching the bottom. I’m not sure how long this went on but the water was over my waist as I’m screaming trying to push the bike back up on the bank.
I was desperately trying to keep the bar bag above water – camera. There was a helicopter over me (because of the murder) and I’m hoping some of the miners will come to my rescue. There are a few men watching from the hill as I scream at the top of my lungs for help.
I think…I’m not really sure what happened or I tried to do, but I tried to take the bar bag off to throw on the bank but instead the bike is whipped and pushed on top of me and I’m taken down with water under my armpits, water rushing over my entire bike, and I’m carried nearly 2 meters before crashing against the stones. My bike is on top of me, I’m almost completely submerged. I think my adrenaline gave me a moment of superhuman strength…as my bike is pushed across my body, the current taking it further, I crawl out and pull my bike out too.
It’s a grey fog, I’m not sure how I got out, what actually happened…but I’m alive and the only thing I lost was the tupperware container full of food and my book. I remember seeing the bin go down the river followed by a book…as I was pulling the bike out. There were some pressed wildflowers from Kyrgyzstan I had planned on giving to my gramma.
Earlier that day, a boy had been launching rocks off the ledge at me as I tried to repair the snapped bolt on my racks. I had washed my hair, and my clothes…and now…I was soaking wet from muddy waters.
(The day before, at a homestay, an older Tajik woman had insisted I take a bath. I was naked in her tub, while she poured warm water over my body…she helping wash my back. Yeah…only this gal would have stories of spongebaths from new Tajik lady friends!)
A mining truck came down to take me across the flooded river. We loaded the wet gear into the truck and we crossed. The water going over the massive wheels. I’m holding on in the truck, thinking it’s about to tip over in certain areas.
At the top, I unload my bags to dry and let it all out…
Then a jeep of Russian mechanics drove me up a pass of massive rocks…Chris had to push his bike for 3 hours…the path was unrideable.
That evening, arriving at the following city, it was raining and too dark to continue on. I slept in an old outdoor bazaar, on top of the stall tables where the produce is usually sold. Up to this point, I had at least one pass a day, sometimes 2…and tomorrow I would be tackling a big boy…
I had to push my bike for 2 days up the pass from hell towards Kala-i Kumb…body bruised, cut, banged. Ego damaged…breaking into tears every now and again. It rained so the first day was pushing through a few cm’s of mud. Also, the screw on my seat tube was stripped so my saddle would slowly drop in.
At the end of the second day, some backpackers I had met in Samarkand stopped on the road to see if I was okay. As soon as Maria asked me, “Are you okay?”…tears started flowing. It had been the first person to express what had happened to me. Maria and Max tried to get me in their jeep and the next one to come along…but no room. I thanked them anyhow and they donated a bag of snacks and bread.
That evening I would stay with a family up the pass that owned a cafe. A French mountaineer would alert me of the current situation with the fighting and the rebels.
Chilling with Grandpa! He is wearing a traditional hat that the Uzbek minorities wear. There are a lot of Uzbeks, and Kyrgzy, that reside in Tajikistan.
Riding down the pass…a group of boys launched apple cores and rocks at me. 20 meters later a group of boys come up to me in the road trying to talk and then start throwing sticks and rocks at me….I go absolute ape shit. I leave my bike in the middle of the road, pick up the biggest rock I can and start screaming, “I’m going to bash you fucking skulls in you fucking mother fuckers!” and chase them down the street and begin down the steps through homes. EVERYONE comes out to the street and I’m explaining to the men what they had done. I climb onto my bike, tears streaming down my face to find myself in Kala-i Kumb.
I stayed there, along with 9 other cyclists…where 8 of us took cars back to the capital after 3 days of waiting out the fighting in the Pamirs.
Of course, a bike in a car always gets damaged. For the past few days I’ve been trying to repair a snapped plunger on my stove and my Brooks saddle looks like a dog chewed on it. All from a 10 hour car ride back to the capital, Dushanbe.
I’ve been able to find a replacement pump for the stove, a replacement screw for my seat tube, and my body is nearly healed. Let’s try this again!!!
There are rumors of what is going on. Some say borders are closed, cities are shut down, fighting continues. No one can get the story straight, or accurate.
I promise to come back to the beginning of this story…of the Pamirs…after the Pamirs….
See you on the other side!
Bukhara Night Riding
Night riding through Bukhara with Chris of:
http://www.allschoolproject.ch
and Medina, a local painter here in Uzbekistan.
April 25 2012 Osh to Bishkek (part vii)
I hadn’t eaten any breakfast this day…and after pushing my bike up this steep pass, the last 3 km…I had to stop and cook something. A little macaroni and TVP.
View from where I came from, at the top of the pass.
Ahead.
The descent…
…how was your ride to work?
Day 8: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – April 1 2012
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….
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!”
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 7: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 31 2012
What the hell can I say?
Morning camp, Matt eating breakfast.
Beautiful view, of course.
The road you see above, that’s frozen ice with the track marks cut through. Cold water will run through the tracks, soaking our feet, and then everything re freezing.
The day started off well, along with the first 5 km or so…then it’s just worse and worse.
Because I travel solo, my load and gear weighs considerable more than the boys. We traded off our bikes every now and again to split up the power consumption. Chivalry IS NOT DEAD!
We do try and make the best of the situation.
But we are losing patience and beginning to grow extremely tired.
Truck drivers are continually giving us hand signs of “X” but also pulling over and giving us food. If they hadn’t given us an extra supply of food…we would of starved.
We got cookies, chocolates, breads, and even a can of tuna. We sat on the snow and stuffed our little bellies the best we could.
One truck offers to give us a lift, but everything would have to be placed on top of the truck cab. The trucks are all locked because of the border control.
We are absolutely beat. Absolutely exhausted. I think we may have made a whopping 30km today…and I…look absolutely shameful. Not many women, especially me, would share something like this online, on their blog…but sometimes…when I man demands to help you, you just accept. My load is probably close to 20kg heavier. Also, the size, height of handlebars, and set up makes my bike very difficult to push. The brothers hate my bike…I still love her. She’s just a real c*$t to push up iced roads.
Now, to make up for this, I have been cooking for the boys. My stove works better and as they rest in their tent after this hard, cold, and wet day…I get to work boiling water for food (my food, to get rid of my weight) and water to drink.
(I’ve been meeting a lot of mid 20 something fellas…and the nickname “Auntie” has been sticking well. I guess it’s better than a “crazy cat lady”…but I’m still quite fond of “Ice Face”. That’s the story from the next day, April 1st.)
After dinner I snuggle into my tent and have 5 pairs of soaking wet socks hanging from my tent.
What have we gotten ourselves into?!
Day 7: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 31 2012
What the hell can I say?
Morning camp, Matt eating breakfast.
Beautiful view, of course.
The road you see above, that’s frozen ice with the track marks cut through. Cold water will run through the tracks, soaking our feet, and then everything re freezing.
The day started off well, along with the first 5 km or so…then it’s just worse and worse.
Because I travel solo, my load and gear weighs considerable more than the boys. We traded off our bikes every now and again to split up the power consumption. Chivalry IS NOT DEAD!
We do try and make the best of the situation.
But we are losing patience and beginning to grow extremely tired.
Truck drivers are continually giving us hand signs of “X” but also pulling over and giving us food. If they hadn’t given us an extra supply of food…we would of starved.
We got cookies, chocolates, breads, and even a can of tuna. We sat on the snow and stuffed our little bellies the best we could.
One truck offers to give us a lift, but everything would have to be placed on top of the truck cab. The trucks are all locked because of the border control.
We are absolutely beat. Absolutely exhausted. I think we may have made a whopping 30km today…and I…look absolutely shameful. Not many women, especially me, would share something like this online, on their blog…but sometimes…when I man demands to help you, you just accept. My load is probably close to 20kg heavier. Also, the size, height of handlebars, and set up makes my bike very difficult to push. The brothers hate my bike…I still love her. She’s just a real c*$t to push up iced roads.
Now, to make up for this, I have been cooking for the boys. My stove works better and as they rest in their tent after this hard, cold, and wet day…I get to work boiling water for food (my food, to get rid of my weight) and water to drink.
(I’ve been meeting a lot of mid 20 something fellas…and the nickname “Auntie” has been sticking well. I guess it’s better than a “crazy cat lady”…but I’m still quite fond of “Ice Face”. That’s the story from the next day, April 1st.)
After dinner I snuggle into my tent and have 5 pairs of soaking wet socks hanging from my tent.
What have we gotten ourselves into?!