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.
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!”
Must Read:
As of January 2012, you must get your Passport Exit Stamp approximately 160 km East of the China border. The city is called “Wuqia” and you must go through the Exit/Entry Station. This is for cyclists crossing FROM China to Kyrgyzstan.
If you arrive at the border without your Exit stamp, there is NO alternative but to return the 160km. The roads have been reported as patchy but I would report that they are some of the worst road conditions I have experienced. This was late winter/early spring with snow, morning ice, mud, iced mud, and roads being flooded out because of the melt. They are currently “working” on a new highway. When I say “working” it means everything has been torn up and some patches completed but I didn’t see ONE PERSON working on it during the week out there.
Wonderful camping opportunities, safe, and sparse population…and hundreds of wild camels.
Please pass this information along to others and repost on as many sites as possible.
The crossing is also closed on the weekends and there is very little to purchase in regards to supplies at the border. I suggest that you stock up on 7 days worth of supplies in Wuqia. This should get you to Sary-Tash Kyrgyzstan if the weather is GOOD. If the weather is bad, the Tajik truck drivers coming from Sary-Tash will give you breads, cookies, cans of tuna, or whatever they have in their truck. You won’t starve…but BE PREPARED.
No photos.
Short day.
Snow.
Slipping on ice, more awesome 180 dances on the ice.
Same shit, different day.
This place was a bitch to find a place to stay.
The first place, before going, I saw some local jump on the roof of the awning and climb into the window of the second floor. Okay…not there….
Second place next to the bus station, no response.
Third place, 130rmb! Bullcrap.
Fourth place, spankin’ clean new room with even a water kettle. Safe place for the bike and gear on the first floor. Under a 100 over 50…whatever.
No police visits. Good rest…actually, super good rest.
It was a long day, but every day in Tibet was a glorious long day – and this would prove to be a very long night.
When I finally found an area where I could get some wind shelter, I pushed the bike off road and up towards some rocks jutting from the ground. Taking notice of the Yak foot prints, I was aware I could have some friendly visitors in the morning. I’m not worried, I’ve woken a few times with the clomping and the heavy breathing less than a meter from my tent. Hell, I’ve had a dozen of dogs howling and barking next to my tent. No, I’m not hardcore – I’m stupid.
Anyhow, I push the bike towards the wall of stone and begin to clear some stones out of the most level area of the ground. I hate slipping through the night, but I can tell I’m going to be rolling down…a little.
I haven’t eat at all. I’m now camping at +4900m, highest camp so far, and I’ve lost my appetite. I’ve been at high altitude for over 2 weeks now and I’m noticing some things changing. My ears are ringing, my feet and hands are beginning to take on a purplish hue, and inability to sleep.
Before I set up camp, I try to figure out how and what I’m going to eat. I have no alcohol for my stove. I’ve got chilled water and I know that if I let my instant noodles (pangmian) soak long enough, it will be close to noodle soup. I also dig out my can of “fried sardines with black beans”. This can was meant to be split, as they are super salty.
Wedging the bag in a Pipa (the rodent that lives in Tibet) hole, I pour my water in to let soak while setting up camp.
This is the night my tent pole splinters. Yep. Again, not a peep from my mouth except in my mind I “say” – “oh shit”. The wind can get crazy up here at night and I just pray it doesn’t blow down.
I nestle into my home for the night and begin my meal fit for Kings.
The fish is too salty. I can only take half the can before I walk a half a km down the hill and chuck it far enough in hopes to keep any wild animals away. (I’m constantly warned of wolves from people, but have yet to have an encounter.)
I fall in and out of sleep throughout the night. As soon as the wind picks up, I listen for more cracking of the pole. Luckily, it is still standing in the morning. Needless to say, at this point, the tent is holding up a lot better than I.
9am blazing sun
I wake up around 9 and feel like a bag of bricks was dropped on my head and I’d been eating cigarette butt flavored sand paper. Baijiu still puzzles me, I can handle any liquor/beer but that stuff is like pure poison.
After a run to the “bathroom” (hole in the ground) I go to get water from the hostess.
She says something about me being drunk last night. Are you insane? I wasn’t drunk but I know you fools were.
I ask her for some water to fill up my bottles and she offers me some food before leaving. Sure, why not.
After about 15 minutes sitting there filling up on water and watching her put her make up on, clean her face, and wipe up stuff, I apologize and tell her I must get going.
Walking with my bag to the police station, I see a Kazakh shepherd with his flock and a give a friendly wave and a “Hello”. He smiles and waves back. Whoa, maybe I shouldn’t wave, it made me nearly fall over. Damn, this is going to be a long long long awful day.
The man from the night before without a uniform helps me get my bike. No one comes to me, no one really says anything except for the guy that grabbed my bum screams something about me going. Yeah, don’t worry buddy, I’m ready to go – trust me. The civilian clothed man asks if I’ve eaten and lie. “Yes, she fed me”.
View behind, the entrance to the town of hell:
View ahead, get the hell out of here…take a deep breath, it’ll be okay.
I get on on ol’Nelly and feel my head spin. I can’t wait to get out of here, 50 less kilometers to a town where I can eat and crash. Shouldn’t be too bad.
Wrong, head wind. Feel like death. Scenery is crap.
I pass SanTang Hu the first time and as I’m going up out of the basin I notice from my compass that this is all wrong. There was a turn off and with an 8km descent to town. I turn back reluctantly but with a tailwind this time and descend to the edge of town. A typical truck stop town, “Brown Frown Town”. It’s more black and lots of frowns.
There is a sign for the town with about 2 km more to go. I arrive into a very small, dusty town and ride to the furthest part to find a luguan. It’s clean and laoban/laobanniang are friendly. I also get to pull my bike into the room for 15rmb.
A little quick laundry and head to get some noodles. It’s only about 5:30 and I’m glad to finish for the day. The blasting headache finally disappeared.
Find a Chinese restaurant and order Chow Mein. Okay, so…it arrives. It doesn’t look as tasty as the other 500 bowls I’ve eaten but I begin to dig in.
There is a strange meat/texture of something. I put it to the side, it’s also a little cold like it hasn’t been cooked. Then, there is something sharp in my mouth. I pull it out expecting to see the stem of a vegetable and to my disgusted surprise it’s a claw/nail. I’m telling myself it’s a chicken claw but it more resembled a large cat claw or small dog with a little blood vein to the nail still attached.
“meow meow” I hear the cat pass by me to the door. Yes! The cat that is in the shop. I’m literally starving and tuck the nail under the plate so I don’t throw up from seeing it and finish the noodles scraping everything else to the side.
I had seen police around town earlier and as I was inside the restaurant a military jeep pulls up out front. An officer barges into the place, looks at me, and barges out as fast as he entered. Yep, that’s probably for me.
As I exit the “xiao mai bu” next to the luguan with my cookies, breads, and soda, the jeep is pulled up out front with 4 officers and 2 locals. I walk past minding my own business.
Within 5 minutes they are there. “Where are you from? Where did you ride from? Where to? Where are you going? Where have you been? What are you doing? What do you do in Shanghai?”
This is the second time where they photograph the cop checking my credentials with me sitting next to his side. Do they submit these to Big Brother to let them know they are doing their jobs in the desert where all the crazies are stationed?
After this ordeal the cop tells me that if I have any problem to contact the police, they will help. HA! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! He also gets my phone number because he’s going to phone the town ahead to expect me and to help me find a place to stay. I’ll have to figure out how to get out of this one.
The owners are sweet people and chat me up for awhile and give me a Hami melon that I have to leave behind because of the weight.
Making a sweet porridge for desert and to hopefully erase the idea of a eating cat/dog out of my head.
As I’m cooking there is a knock on the door and a middle aged man walks in and looks at me and then leaves.
He returns in about 10 minutes and examines my food and says it’s not good. Asking where I’m from and how he’s going to Miami in 2 years. He gives me some sweet caramel candies too. After a short chat he leaves, but also telling me he’s going to go get me some food.
Again, he returns, after knocking comes in and gives me some instant noodles and a cup of instant milk tea and some breads.
Then he returns. He asks me to come over to his room so he can get a photo together. “It will be quick”.
Ah, okay, whatever…I’ll play along. I enter the room and there are sunflower seeds everywhere and a small table. There is also a young attractive boy. Turns out to be his 18 year old son. He takes the photo of us together and poses a polished stone on a pedestal next to us. The boy seems to have problems with the camera and Dad laughs at it all. I’m offered some baijiu and the thought makes me want to puke. I smile and wave my goodbyes.
He returns to check on me and sees my instant noodles. He takes them away. Only to return with them and a bar of foreign CHOCOLATE! A big bar of too…holy cow. This is a treat. I need to return to the room for a retake of the photo. Okay.
Ah, and I think it’s over…smiling at the thought of that delicious chocolate and eating my instant noodles.
He returns with some boxes.
They are opened and more polished and colored stones. He hands me a stand and tells me to take a rock. I’m not sure if he is selling them or really just offering me one. To play it safe I tell him, “I’m sorry, I can’t, they are too heavy. Thank you so much but, really, I can’t, I’m on bike.”
He seems okay with it but we go a little back and forth about it. His son is standing at his side, smiling.
I exchanged QQ #’s with his son, which I still have to send this photo to him.
As I lie in bed, I relive the past 48 hours and I remind myself that the days can vary from light to day. That the people drastically can change from 50 kilometers. What I’m saying, people, generally are so awesome and I’m not going to let a few rotten people make me think differently. Of course, I’m a little damaged from 2 experiences and I’m a little weary of things and men…but for the most part…they just want to talk with me.
Sometimes, China, I love you so much. NOT the ones in charge..but the wonderful strangers I meet along the way.
Camp in Qinhai on the way to Tibet, with Brandon Wallace, under the Qinghai/Tibet Railway.
Taking a break along Namucuo, highest salt lake water in the world. 2nd day solo in Tibet, heading West.
Tibet at 5280m altitude. Physical ailments are beginning to become noticeable. Hungry and tired.
Camp in Qinhai on the way to Tibet, with Brandon Wallace, under the Qinghai/Tibet Railway.
Taking a break along Namucuo, highest salt lake water in the world. 2nd day solo in Tibet, heading West.
Tibet at 5280m altitude. Physical ailments are beginning to become noticeable. Hungry and tired.
There is a deep sigh and an attempt for a morning motivating talk. Cold, always cold.
Load up and I’m on the road around 12:30. View of YiWu from the Southern part of the city.
Continuing a descent down the Tianshan Mountains. I can feel the weather getting a little warmer and skies clearing. Early afternoon I find myself in the desert with the snow capped Tianshan behind me.
It’s beautiful smooth tarmac but falls off at one point and I’m on gravel and dirt and dust. I kind of love this because it could mean I’m going off the grid but another half hates the dust in my eyes/lungs/mouth and the far from smooth ride. Some locals give me a strange look, I ride through an area of trees, brown and barren for the winter. In my mind, I imagine the Spring, the place filled with green and life. Their is a small creek winding through the valley. After a couple hairpin turns in gravel, I find myself back on tarmac. Far off, I see smog, a town, and a straight road leading down into this basin. All reminding me of my straight ride to Erlianhaote, the border town to Mongolia…where it seemed to take forever, straight and against the wind.
Edge of town, industrial with coal trucks, oil and gas trucks, and some sort of plant pumping smoke into the hazed sky. I find an over priced bingguan, eat, and pass out after carbo loading on some pre-packed bread from the market. This leg of the tour feels very sluggish, can’t I just hibernate through these months.
I am on the edge of the Gobi, that’s kind of cool…and I guess there is some sort of petrified forest a little West of town. The photos advertising the place shows a vivid blue sky with orange twisted trees. I have a bit of doubt, but I’ll check it out tomorrow.
Naomaohu Xiang is historically the first stop where traveler’s coming from Mongolia via the Great Gobi and Eastern China via China’s side of the Gobi could find water and rest. It’s just a little outpost, a little more than a village, less than a town.
