THE WHY
From 2010 to 2012, I rode my bike around China and Central Asia as a solo cyclist. I had ridden on a Brooks saddle, and since that initial adventure, Brooks England has reached out to me regarding writing for their publications and audience. These writings were about bike riding, fear, or empowerment as a woman. It’s challenging to find a single label for how I travel or what I do, as my endeavors involve adventure, human rights, women’s issues, and photography. I like to consider myself just a very curious troublemaker. The good kind, of course.
Brooks England asked me to be the photographer for the inaugural Silk Road Mountain Race in Kyrgyzstan. As Bikepacking.com stated: “The Silk Road Mountain Race is a fixed route, unsupported, single-stage cycling race through the Tian Shan mountains of Kyrgyzstan. It will follow gravel, single and double track, and old soviet roads that have long been forgotten and fallen into disrepair.” It would be a 1000-mile race with 85,000 feet of climbing.
I toured through Central Asia in 2012, as I was ending that two-year-long bicycle tour. Kyrgyzstan, I knew NOTHING about bike races let alone ultra-endurance races. Besides needing my photography skills, I had a lot of experience with the people, culture, and lands of Central Asia. Therefore, I was given the task of dealing with logistics and supporting our expedition team which would consist of three other people.
When arriving at Shanghai Pudong airport to make the flight to Bishkek via Urumqi, I saw a couple of guys with bike bags. What are the chances that these guys are going to the race, I made an awkward introduction. One of the guys would end up being Jeff Liu of Factory Five and assisted in the route and race creation that year. Jeff would end up designing my titanium frame which would be a three-year-long build until I raced it last summer in Kyrgyzstan.
It had been six years since my last visit to Kyrgyzstan and felt like it had remained in a time capsule, especially compared to the rapid pace of life in China. It felt great to be back in Central Asia and in the cycling world. There was a part of me that felt like I was missing something, and that was my bike. But I had my crew. Cyril Chermin, Jay, and Nurjamal as our translator and fixer.
The four of us were given a Russian buhanka (van) to document the race while also serving as a support vehicle. “What happens stays in the van”. I could write up this story for pages but I’m here to tell you about my race experience last year. There were a few moments in 2018 that did motivate me to race one day.
There was the initial interview with Jay Petervary. I heard a hum and excitement about “JP”. I feigned that I knew, but really had no idea of the legend. As I was interviewing him, with off-the-cuff questions, I felt my mood mirror his and couldn’t quit matching his smile and enthusiasm. I understood his passion, drive, and wanderlust. “Wait, I’m kind of like this guy too. The good kind of “crazy”. You can see that film and interview here!
During the entire race, the Brooks England crew pondered over who would race in the future. From the start line, I saw that I belonged out there. As a long-distance touring cyclist, my brain is wired to find a pace and hold it. Also, my outdoor skills and years of adventuring around China as a solo woman had prepared me for nearly anything. I knew how to take care of myself in the most remote areas, acclimate to extreme temperatures and weather, and protect myself from the most unpredictable animal out there. The human.
Maybe it was because it was the first Silk Road Mountain Race, but I witnessed a lot of mistakes that could have been prevented by experience or just understanding the region. I’m not fast or strong, but my skills in remote regions and my ability to remain calm is my strong suit. Determined, resilient, tenacious, and highly competitive with myself.
At one of the checkpoints along the shores of Issy-Kul, Jeff Liu let me ride his bike around and holy shit, that was it. That was the moment I knew that one day I was going to race. The cold against my face, the heartbeat rising to deal with the altitude and freedom. The intense feeling of freedom.
The community was also a reason I wanted to race. I witnessed racers creating lifelong friendships with comradery and understanding that’s hard to find. Having lived in China, up to that point, for 10 years and all my solo travels, I longed for that. I wanted community. I wanted friends that “get it”. It seemed this exposure to ultra-racing would change my life like it has so many others. Even though I didn’t race, I still made friendships during that adventure I still have today.
I would take the titanium frame home from Shanghai just a few months before Covid changed all of our lives and trajectory. During January and February of 2020, I was in east Tibet working on a long-term photography project and would have to leave because the country was being shut down and I was getting stuck.
At a loss, again. I felt lost, again. A similar feeling to what instigated that two-year-long bicycle tour. I had lost my reasons, or at least I couldn’t return to the regions where they were. Everything I had worked towards and planned on was taken away while the entire trajectory of my life changed. I had planned to spend my future in Tibet.
Bike rides can fix that!
Because of delivering photographs, I had “met” a lot of racers from the first Silk Road. One amazing human was Jesse Blough. After communicating via Instagram about bike stuff, I would arrive in October of 2021 to participate in my first ultra, the Big Lonely. The race took place from Bend, Oregon, and would total around 300 miles.
I survived and finished. Including riding and hiking through the snow over the last mountain pass to pull up on the position. The woman I had passed during the night was Alissa. We spent some time riding together and got to chatting. We had a lot in common and it was super cool to meet someone from a similar background of riding, and age.
That was another step to seeing if I wanted to pursue SRMR (Silk Road Mountain Race). The community is stellar and remains in contact with Jesse, fellow racers, and even Erich the event photographer. That race in Bend opened up more connections in the area, and when I struggled with my brakes a few days before SRMR 2022, Julia with Chariot Bike Shop in Bend and Erich sent a video helping me swap out my brake pads. I mean, seriously?! Bikes bring amazing people into my life.
THE HOW
Training started in November before the application even went live for SRMR 2022. I trained until June when I would have to pack up the bike and make the final decision on gear. Training included A LOT of weightlifting and strengthening. I have a long list of injuries and for the first time, my back pain ceased. That one was picked up when trying to cross a river with my bike in Tajikistan. A daily reminder not to be stupid and be careful of water crossings.
There were also two weeks in Seattle during the middle of the winter where I was getting my NOLS Wilderness First Responder. I was determined not to be a liability while also being able to help others should they need it.
In January, I took a short bike trip out to Arizona with my partner, Nick. I tackled the Hangover bike trail in Sedona for the second time and left my ego at the top. Those Arizona double black diamonds will surely knock someone’s confidence off a ledge. That trip ended with me crying and swearing I was giving up bicycles forever.
During June I would spend a few weeks in Utah and Colorado riding singletrack on my full-suspension mountain bike with my brother.
Chris and I tried to summit Mt. Elbert, a 14’er in Leadville Colorado but we hit snow so close to the top. It would have been both of the first 14’ers with a bike. I really wanted that first to be shared with him. We went to Camp Hale, where the Tibetans were trained in the early 1950s to fight against the People’s Liberation Army. Again, more snow but it was so special to be there and go up to the Kokomo Pass.
Later I would venture down to southern Utah alone, climb and descend the Spinal Tap trail, and felt like my bike handling skills, and speed had drastically improved. Just a few months before I was going to sell all my bikes and just turn away. But mountain biking becomes more fun the more you shred and less hammer.
While out west, I was able to summit my first North American 14’er with my bike and plenty of pushing my bike through snow and up rocks. I also got to finally meet Lauren Brownlee for dinner. Although we both raced in the Big Lonely, we didn’t get to meet in person until last summer.
Leading up to then, I had done some shorter gravel rides, including a few days on the Rock Star gravel route in Virginia and sections of Sheltowee single-track trails with my partner. The Sheltowee is one of the gorgeous areas in the region, but the trails don’t see a lot of traffic. So, there were plenty of moments of hike a bike or wanting to sit down and sob out of frustration.
Brooks England had contacted me regarding gear sponsorship and as their SRMR ambassador. They had enjoyed my endeavors over the last decade and how I pursued a fulfilling life of adventure as a solo woman in Asia while balancing life and the mission of helping. They hadn’t had a female ambassador during one of their races and this would be the year. Because this would be my third time in the country, most people figured I would at least finish.
It felt like it was an excellent opportunity to give a different “voice” to the world of cycling and said, “yes”. For someone who has a career and mission not connected to bikes while being transparent with struggles that many of us can relate to, it felt like a good opportunity. “Bicycles saved my life” but also was the tool for me to find a more meaningful life with immense purpose. To find a route of servitude to others.
I’ve been around long enough to know that sponsorship will not make me rich and famous. I saw it as a potential platform to talk about important things to me and should be to any traveler. Especially those traveling slowly across foreign borders and living within different cultures and religions.
There had been plans to get out to Kyrgyzstan at least a month before the race, with the hope of finally riding the Pamir Highway in Tajikistan. In 2012, during my two yearlong tour, I arrived in the capital of Dushanbe with hopes of returning to China by the Pamir Highway. A few days into my route, and while I was close to dying in a river crossing, a civil war had broken out in the eastern regions, and the country closed its borders and the roads that would get me close to the China border.
Yet again, the borders were closed because of unrest. Nothing new or surprising, and I would make do with routes through Kyrgyzstan.
After fine-tuning my “Baby Yak” for months with Jubal in Chillicothe, I arrived in Bishkek with my bike around 4 am on July 11th. I returned to the Sakura Guesthouse, where I had stayed in 2012. I sat outside and waited about 2 hours for sunrise not to disrupt the hosts.
THE ARRIVAL
Once in the guesthouse jet lagged, I began tearing apart my luggage and putting my bike together. The excitement was real, and I couldn’t wait to ride my bike in Kyrgyzstan again after ten years!
It was also planned to meet with Nurjamal and her production team to do some videos for Brooks England. We were to start at 4:30 am the following day. We had stayed in touch since working together on the Brooks Media team in 2018 and when they requested some video footage, I couldn’t think of a better place and crew.
Introducing Baby Yak
My bike is called “Baby Yak” or pronounced “Yak chook” in Tibetan because it was initially built and developed for this SRMR and to ride around eastern Tibet, where I had traversed for the last decade. Both Tibetan and Central Asian, as well as Native American shamanistic beliefs, are strong on animal symbols that are referred to as totem animals or “power animals.” In Tibetan legend, wild yak is said to be “stars” living in heaven, and the yak is always imagined to be a safeguarding god.
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