See you in September!
ellen moseman
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Kazakhstan May 14, 15…Gone Fishin
Breaking down camp well before 6 am, I pass through a small town. Picking up minimal supplies, like candy, along with some ice cream for breakfast.
It’s been close to a week since my last shower and I saw a gas station/truck stop that seemed to offer something of the sort. But, it either wasn’t open that early or just not open at all.
I ride through the barren steppe with a headwind until about 11 when a blue, 2 door Lada pulls up next to me.
There are two men in front, a bit older, and they are extremely friendly and waving at me. Asking me where I’m from and they are even happier to hear I’m an American. We wave goodbye and they move ahead.
They stop about 200 meters ahead.
I’m greeted by two men and an old tiny Kazakhstan flag. They seem so excited to meet me and so welcoming I can’t help smiling during the entire conversation.
He tells me they are going fishing in Lake Balhash and I am invited to come along. Them miming that I’ll throw my bike on the car and we’ll all go together. It’s only 11am but, if you’ve been following this journey for awhile now, you know I rarely turn down offers of any sort. Well, I do turn down the offers for sex…
One man tells me his wife is in the back of the car and this is the confirmation that I shouldn’t have too many problems.
He pops the trunk of the tiny 2 door Lada and there is a tiny girl sitting in the back with reflective aviator sunglasses on. We exchange “hellos”…she doesn’t look Kazakh or Russian, but she does appear to be very young. As she moves around in the area of the hatchback, for me to put my bags in the back, I catch a glimpse of her eyes behind the sunglasses.
Holy F*$K! What am I getting into?
Her eyes are nearly swollen shut and the skin dark purple. It’s the worst black eyes I’ve ever seen and I try not to look too much. I cringe from sympathy pains as I throw my bags into the back, being engulfed by the smell of fish.
They tell me to sit in the passenger seat by I insist on sitting in the back with the wife.
We head off the road and throw sand tracks within just a few minutes. I’m trying to settle my nerves, as I’m having flashbacks of the perverted police officer in the Gobi. Okay, these people aren’t intoxicated, friendly, and it’s daylight. I’m trying to make mental notes of the tracks just in case I have to make a run for it. We are heading East, further and further from the main road but I can keep my orientation by the power lines and the city to the South along the lake.
We pass wild horses through the sand, listening to Hip Hop being blasted through the Lada. I’m forced into the front seat, as a guest. The heater is also blasting on me.
At one point Jalabad, the driver, jumps out and then jumps back in with a small bouquet of wild flowers. For me? Yes. Okay, this is uncomfortable, what about your wife?
It’s about a 15 minute ride through the sand until we arrive at a tiny shack on the banks of a sparkling turquoise lake. We get out of the car and my senses are filled with the smell of salt and dried fish…and the sun beating down on me.
There is an old man at the shack and a very old aluminum boat.
The two men from the car and the wife begin preparing the boat. It’s slid off the trailer and we begin leaving the bank, the 4 of us.
My seat is an old 2×4 set across the front. The driver picks up speed and I’m bouncing all over the place, attempting to secure my camera.
We arrive to the first net in the middle of the lake. As the men begin pulling the net to grab the fish, the wife is in the back scooping out the water that leaks in.
The men toss fish from the front to the back, barely missing my head and hers.
We continue checking nets for about the next 2 hours. The leak is peaceful, and calm, and curious birds all along the way. There are fish I’d never seen before. I watch the wife, behind my sunglasses, sticking her finger in the eye of one of the fish. Not as cruelty, but I saw it as a curiosity, a playfulness.
The driver of the Lada and boat…the leader. His name is “Jalabad”.
Fishing partner and wife.
We come back in and dock the boat. There is a jeep there with one police officer and 2 other men. They are talking to the old man that lives in the fishing shack. The men from the boat join in and I can tell the conversation is about me.
The wife and I go sit in the Lada and wait for the men. As we are completely ignored. A giant bee flies into the car and startles her from her sleep. It’s hot in the sun…I want to go, I want to get out of the sun.
As we are speeding through the sand, I am invited for tea. I’m in the front seat, with the wife squeezed between us. Wife gets a smile across her face and she puts in extra effort with the invite to come to her home.
The first thought to my mind is, “If my presence will keep him from beating the shit out of her…well, I ‘ll go.” If she were to be punched a few more times, she would probably lose the eyeball. But, here I am making assumptions.
What I do notice is both eyes are black, the worst one being her right eye, and her husband is right handed…along with a big ring on it. She also has dozens of scratches all over her face and neck. This is just weird, men usually don’t beat and scratch women.
(I wish I could remember her name.)
After unloading the bike and gear, Jalabad leaves to get rid of the fish and I spend time with the wife. She makes me Nestle hot chocolate and adds a shit ton of extra sugar.
She walks into the kitchen with her hand covering her eye and signals to me not to look. I give a hand signal to dismiss, it’s not my business and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.
We sit in the kitchen, the apartment empty except for a few necessities. A new fridge, washer/dryer, and in the living room a bed, 2 chairs, a tv, and countless DVDs. Their bedroom closed off.
Within 15 minutes we are scribbling on paper and drawing photos to communicate. Also using a Russian English dictionary we are able to get simple questions and answers across. She had quit covering her eye and tells me it was Russian girls in Balhash. She is actually half Korean and half Russian, 20 years old and Jalabad is 46, his second marriage and has 2 children.
Jalabad returns home and we have dinner together. Boiled chicken, pasta, and onions…all boiled together. Of course with bread, topped with mayonaise and ketchup. Not my choice but my hosts insist it’s delicious…I’ll say differently.
They escort me to the living room, throw some awful American movie in the DVD player with a hilarious Russian overdub. It’s just a man translating the movie…he does it all…like reading from a script. I’m mostly entertained by the Russian Sprite commercials.
I’m under the impression I will be getting a ride tomorrow, so I settle in for the night and not think too much about my next step.
Jalabad and his wife are in the other room. Finally, I smell marijuana and realize they are getting high. Whatever, none of my business.
It’s getting very late and they enter the room. They have an idea and I’m pulled into the kitchen. Jalabad makes a sketch of me getting bathed by his wife. Um, no thanks…I can pour water over myself and don’t need creep fest 2012. I thank them for the offer, laughing, and say I’m okay.
I’m in bed half asleep, in the living room and I can hear the wife go to bed. Jalabad is switching off the lights and I’m very aware of what may happen next. I’m lying with my face to the wall and the lights are off. Within a few seconds, I have hands rubbing my legs…I turn over and see Jalabad kneeling at the foot of my bed and I kick him away simultaneously.
Damn Sex Pests, everywhere!
To be continued…
Kazakhstan May 13 2012
I hit 20,000km around 10am, here.
The South East edge of lake Balhash around noon. It’s been baby animal season in Central Asia for the past few months.
I had had an early lunch in the town and had been passed by a motorcycle. It had honked at me while passing. Then as I was hunting down lunch, I had taken a double look because I could of sworn it was a woman.
After lunch I’m riding and she passes me and I see her braid hanging out the back of her helmet. God damn I want a motorbike…I bet she is one rad chick.
Nap time. I’m visited by a couple police officers to check on me…along with about a half a dozen of truck drivers and other randoms. I love the bus stops here, besides offering shade and somewhere to sleep, I get to enjoy some nice art and design…from one of my favorite art periods.
The day is spent pushing along the edge of the lake. I’m beginning to see shops on the side of the road selling “pыба” – fish. I can smell the salt from each little shack as I ride by. It’s a nice smoky flavor but I don’t stop to buy any because I’m not sure what standard prices are and I’m not sure how to store it in my bike bags.
There are some hills to the West of the lake that I push my bike behind for camp. It’s about a kilometer from a truck stop that I can see some people and trucks. The mosquitoes are gradually getting worse and worse and I have to constantly shake my whole body while setting up my tent to prevent getting eaten alive. There is no cooking in this area, unless the wind is strong or on the side of the road, where they don’t seem to be that bad. That’s the advantage to the wind of the Steppe, if it’s slight, it will keep the mosquitoes from swarming and there are nasty little flies that also like to go up my nose and in my ears.
Tibetan Sisters, Nima Tibet 2011
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December 2nd 2011 – Mario Bros to Mori
I woke up to a quite cold and dimly lit room. Still, complete silence except for the faint sound of ice cracking in the trees in the back.
Without getting out of bed to look out the window, I can make a weather assessment. Being raised in the Blue Ridge/Appalachia Mountains, I can already tell what it’s like outside by the light coming through the window and the silence with the faint “crack”.
I pack up, eat the remainder of the bread, and drink the last bit of hot water (“kai shui”) in my instant sugar coffee. Again, it’s great staying in places like this because it’s super fast and easy to pack up in the am.
I vow to not take anymore photos with my point and shoot (quit being lazy) unless they are snapshots of me suffering in the elements or I have no option because of situation (i.e. police). Only for video, from now on, Jan 20, 2011.
It’s going to be a very white and cold ride today.
As I exit the building, I see Mario and Luigi taking care of the daily chores. Cow feeding and milking. Yep, I think Mario and Luigi may be a couple. This, I find, AWESOME. They get extra thanks and smiles from me…world love, dudes.
It’s about 10 am’ish. It’s foggy – frozen fog. Not too bad with a few kilometer visibility ahead. Once I get going, I’ll warm up and it won’t be too much of a problem.
10:42 am
The trees all have silver icicles on the tips of their limbs. I am doing okay at this point and enjoy passing the lone cowboy on his horse and my eyes dashing around the landscape. There still seems to be a bit of an incline, or my eyes are just giving me that “false” appearance. (I hate it when I have a false flat and barely pushing 15km, way to make me feel like a baby.)
Little girl’s potty break, although I didn’t use the structure for privacy. I nearly didn’t make it off the saddle in time. (Nothing like wet cycling shorts and an additional odor to add the lovely potpourri I wear around). You can gawk at this if you want, but any one that rides, especially women…one second off the saddle and that’s when it hits with full force.
When there is no traffic, I really just take care of business anywhere. Ladies, don’t be shy when nature calls. Tuck the head down and keep your face from traffic to keep the attention off of the fact that you aren’t “physically” a man. I really have lost any sense of shame. What happened? I guess, you just quit giving a damn and morphed into a true womanimal.
12:30, losing visibility. It only gets worse and worse from this moment on.
Boys get ice beards girls get ice braids. (How fitting for the nickname I picked up years ago, “Ice Princess”)
The balaclava got used after this, and I’m not posting a photo of that because I look like a monster.
I eventually end the day on about 3 meter visibility. Turning on my red blinky because of the fear of getting taken out by a car.
It’s an early day to Mori.
I finally have my gear loaded on my bike so if I take the back rack bag off, I can carry the bike fully loaded up stairs. Yes, I’m a g.d. beast. Well, beastly skills up 3 EXTREMELY LONG and narrow flight of stairs, nearly breaks my neck. I regained my balance before taking an awesome tumble down steps with bike in hands. (Mental note: save beast skills for at least a meter wide staircase, without white sheets covering the carpet, and a larger landings…and just not so many.) Christ! Laziness and short cuts are going to be the death of me. There was a naughty influence with me this summer and some bad habits have stuck.
(The beastly womanimal needs some sleep as I had a delightful 4 hours last night. Jan. 23, 2011)
Near Nima, Tibet (U-Tsang) September 2011
I heard a crack the day before while riding. The bike didn’t stop and didn’t really notice anything different – so I continued on.
The previous night I had stayed with a Tibetan family in a very very small village. This morning she filled my bottles with tea and sent me off with a plastic bag of tsampa!
A few hours of riding there was another loud “crack” and I immediately felt my new Brooks saddle change under my booty.
I had just thrown out my old Selle Italia saddle and replaced it with a beautiful double rail Brooks B72 in Xining. This gorgeous beauty only had about 1000km on.
Dismounting and without skipping a beat I look directly at the double rails of the saddle. Both broken…snapped right behind the saddle clamp. Shit.
Really? I’m literally in the middle of nowhere. YES. LITERALLY!
There is no point in shouting or crying and actually maintain a very cool and collected demeanor. Gently setting Nelly on her side, I step a meter back and think about this situation.
This is exactly the point where I set the bike down and what I also had to decide on – which road?
First things first. I take out the multi-tool and skootch the saddle forward so the jagged breaks are in the seat clamp. This will hopefully get me somewhere for a shitty weld. I’ll have to take my weight off the saddle while riding, especially over this terrain. It will prove to also be the noisiest saddle ever.
I plop down in the fork of the road, feeling a little proud of myself for resolving this problem so quickly and not a peep of frustration coming from me.
Looking ahead, which road should I take. Again, the only map I have is a horrible tourist map of China with only main roads shown. It doesn’t even have Chinese written on it.
After gulping down some tea…wait…does this tea make me even thirstier? What is with this Tibetan tea?…and eating some tsampa I stand up and examine the road to the right.
It heads into the hills. There is a good chance it actually heads more Northeast, where at this point I want Northwest. I walk about a quarter of a kilometer down the road, closely…CLOSELY…examining the path. How fresh do the tracks look? Are there jeep tracks or just motorcycle tracks? How is the gravel thrown about?
After looking down near 16,000km of tarmac, gravel roads, cow paths, fields, I feel extremely competent of road judging skills.
I walk off the road to cross to the road to the left. Ahead, I can see that the road is pretty damaged from ice melt run off. This part of the road becomes about 3 meters wide from automobiles and motorcycles veering off the road and even another road has been made to the left. Further beyond, the road seems to wrap to the West around some large stones.
This road shows slightly more signs of travel BUT I notice multipele sets, and obvious, jeep and truck tracks. Yes, this is the choice.
(I want to state that the Brooks saddle was repaired by Brooks for free. If you use a Brooks B72 you MUST use an old style seat post or a “seat sandwich”.)
December 1 2011 – HongKaiZi to The Super Mario Brother’s zhusu
As soon as there was rustling about and the room was lit with sunlight, little sister and I went out back to the “cesuo” (toilet). I hate this type of morning, when my sides ache from the pain of holding my bladder. It feels as if it gets all blocked and takes a few minutes for my body to realize it’s time…to relax.
I can’t help but gazing towards the mountains during these few minutes. It’s cold and I can see the peaks of the little mountains. Damn, if it wasn’t so cold, and I was a little more insane, I’d ride my bike up there to take a look. Disappointed, as I imagine what that range looks like in the Spring – probably a fairly easy day ride with a nice camp. Not now, on December first.
Little sister and her husband wash up for the morning. Afterwards I’m led back over to her in laws for tea and hard breads. As she and I get ready, I get a couple of “how much did that cost?” Please, please…lets not play that game. It’s such a typical Chinese thing and I don’t find it among the minorities so much…please, don’t do this.
Her brother in-law is asleep in the corner. Three additional Kazakh men enter to join us for breakfast. They are quite nice and we go through all the basic questions and comments again. I still can’t get over how adorable her father in law is. Just adorable…in his thick army green pants.
The bread chunks are hard and you have to let them soak in the tea. The tea is different here. They add a yogurt to the milk tea. So there are little chunks of yogurt floating on top of the tea. Watching little sister, I see her scoop up the yogurt with the hard bread. I mimic, delicious.
We all head out, as it’s time for the family chores to be taken care of. Her husband heads out on his motorcycle, father is moving the sheep out of the stable, and mother begins her milking duties.
There is a litter of puppies behind the house. I can’t get over how adorable they are, with their snorting and crying. It’s hard for me not to ask if I can buy one. It’s too cold and they are too young…just would be cruel.
I spend some more time with little sister and I get a few more “how much did that cost?” questions. Okay. I can’t do this anymore.
She asks me if I’m going to stay another day and I just get a strange vibe that maybe I should go on. I know I’m welcome to stay but decide to tell her I will leave and see how she reacts. “No, I really should get going, it’s getting late.”
Not receiving a response that I sometimes get when people REALLY don’t want me to leave. I pack up and set out around 12am. With one final “how much did your bike cost?” Please, little sister…don’t do this to me……..
I give her a hug good-bye and push off. The mama dog decides NOW she wants to attack me. Hearing the barking getting louder I stop in my tracks and see her running towards me. Little sister runs to hold her back.
A wave from the tarmac and I’m off. Within a kilometer I pass her husband on his motorcycle, after putting the sheep to pasture, and I wave goodbye. Good-bye Mr. Handsome!
It’s a long day of riding up. Cold. Very little traffic.
I see the first sign of life around 3 in the afternoon. It consists of a tire fixing place and a restaurant.
Pulling the bike up to the restaurant, removing my sunglasses, and sliding my hat off, I make eye contact with the little toddler in the doorway. I say “Hello!” in my cute child voice for her. She smiles and goes in.
Two older Kazakhs walk out and they are very friendly looking at me and the bike. Harmless, wonderful, people.
I enter into a very old room with a small table and 4 chairs. The cooking area takes up half the space. There is a room to the right that has about 8 Kazakhs and children around a large table. The t.v. is on and some are sitting on the old iron framed bed.
The color palette of the place is browns, reds, dark yellows, and greens. Just a very dark place but I feel warm and the people seem welcoming.
I have a hard time communicating with the woman that’s cooking. I order fried noodles. The folks in the other room ask where I’m from. “I’m American”.
“Ohhhhh, American!” With smiles, nods, and just a feeling of acceptance.
The toddler and I are playing hide and go see around the table and other general child games of looking at each other.
A young man enters and takes a large tray of beef into the small room. When I say “tray of beef”..I mean…it’s basically broiled/roasted whole cow with the skin and organs removed. It actually looks and smells quite delicious.
About 5 minutes later he brings a big chunk out, about 12mm x 12 mm, sets it on a clean plate and drops it in front of me. He smiles, “Chi!”
The cook turns around and smiles while handing me a knife. Well, I guess I just go at it. I’ve had some training in Inner Mongolia and I try not to destroy such a beautiful hunk of beef.
As I cut into the meat, the juices drip down my hands and steam rising from the fresh cut. It may be one of the most delicious meals I’ve had.
My noodles are served with chunks of beef and hot green peppers.
I try to converse with the woman but there is a language barrier. She tells me that the road is mostly flat to the next city. I know to never really believe this stuff completely.
The place is warm and the people are kind. I take a deep breath and relax for a moment. Then filling up my water, I say thank you and head on my way.
From the km count she gave me, I will not be making it to the city unless it’s all downhill.
It’s not. I have a pretty damn good mountain pass to get over. Is it the cold? These climbs just drain me, not like when the weather is fair. I think about how this would of been nothing 4 months ago…but maybe the weather really does drain someone more than you would imagine. I push Nelly the last kilometer.
I’m holding the top of the pass for the remainder of the day…once again, as usual, racing for light.
I don’t know why I do this. Sometimes I think I should just set up camp in the snow but there is a part of me that just says, “keep going keep going, you’ll find something”. At the top of a pass, a nice 20rmb room sure does sound nice.
There is a truck stop on the side of the road. The only “zhusu” has all the windows broken out. I avoid staying where there are truckers like that anyhow. I take a little road down a hill towards a village. No luck. Power back up the hill, past a police station, see 2 officers taking a stroll and I pull clothing over my face. Less trouble.
The pass is a good 15km and I’m not really enjoying it. “Keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize”
Towards sunset I begin the descent. I hate descents in the winter and at sunset. It’s just so damn cold, although the sky is always the most beautiful. I’m trying to get to somewhere warm, take photos, and just not freeze. It’s quite a balancing act.
I’m freezing, it’s near dark and there is no traffic. Luckily, this helps me hold onto my night vision.
With about 10 minutes left of residual light, I spot a hand painted sign with something about “zhusu” and “1.5km”. Oh hell yes!
I pick up the pace and I see a restaurant with “zhusu” attached to it. It’s tucked into a wooded area with only an outhouse and some cows.
Of course they see me and greet me at the door.
“30rmb!? Really? Well, I guess I don’t have an option. Okay.”
We roll my bike into the room and they reassure me it will be warm, safe, no other company…and the sheets are clean. Okay.
In the restaurant, I order a couple of dishes. As I’m sitting there and I notice that these two men are not typical Chinese men. They remind me of 2 people, with their mustaches. Oh, it’s Mario and Luigi! of the Super Mario Bros. fame.
They don’t have rice so I’m given some breads. Cold bread. I only eat one but they insist that I take all the breads, “a gift”, for breakfast. I’m beginning to think that these men have a relationship – they are not brothers.
Sure, not going to turn down free breads.
Back to my room, it’s dark, I have only one candle to last me the night.
I curl up on top of one blanket and cover with 2. It’s silent. For the past couple of nights, all I hear is silence. I love it. The light begins to flicker, as the the flame extinguishes I can hear the sizzle.
Goodnight.