…dinner was being prepared in Kashgar.
Moseman
I dance more than you KNOW…
…BUT now you do.
Kazakhstan May 16 2012
I wake up to Jalabad’s fishing friend knocking at the door at 5:30.
Already having been up for 30 minutes, after hearing Jalabad’s phone ring over and over, I roll my loaded bike up to the door and greet him.
He makes an attempt to wake Jalabad but neither of them stir, so there are no goodbyes.
We walk to the road and wait in front of a little shop.
The first bus has no room for the bike and bags.
The second bus does.
His friend instructs where I am to get off at. Balhash, approximately 130km North.
The Russian drivers instruct me to sit in the first row, behind the current driver.
Within a few minutes, the driver pulls out a cd case. I notice his hands, wearing some pretty metal driving gloves…mesh and leather. His balding head and some mean lookin’ sunglasses.
By the look of the cd cover, I’m expecting some Norwegian metal.
If you know me personally, you may know I have a bit of passion for metal. I’ve been away from home awhile, and anything small, even if it’s not the type of metal I would prefer…it brings a nice warm feeling of familiarity to me.
I sit in my seat…thinking, “wow, I’m riding a bus through the Kazakhstan Steppe, with my bike in luggage listening to some intense metal…life is crazy”.
When we arrive to Balhash, there is some confusion of where I’m trying to go.
They think I’m continuing on, so after unloading, they load me back up. I hand them my map in the bus and after about a half kilometer, they realize I need to be let off now. I’m given an offer for a free ride to Astana…but I politely decline. My bus ride was free and the driver introduces himself, then I, with a thank you over a hand shake.
In Balhash around noon and I try to get directions to try to get to a small “town” North of the lake. I ask one man and he gives me directions, not in English, in Russian…but I make do at this point and can understand.
As I head in the direction…he pulls up in a car and tells me there is no road and I need to go back to Almaty and then come up from the East side. Okay, this is possible…could be very possible.
I go to a shop to buy supplies and tell them where I’m going, to see about their response. They seem to be familiar with the name and just kind of nod a “yes” and smile.
I go to another shop to do the same test. Same response.
So I decide to head out.
There are no signs to the road and it leads North and then towards the East.
Friendly Russians pass me in their cars. One stopping and asking, “Adventure”? I respond with yes. He hands be a big bottle of “Kvas” and a cold Vitamin C and tells me, “gift”. Holy shit, thanks!
I continue on and soon I can see the lake and there is no traffic except some local vehicles.
There is a headwind and at one point it catches my toilet paper on the front rack and before I know it I have 4 meters of white TP trailing behind me. I jump off with a few choice swear words and salvage what I can.
Only 2 small villages and about every 20 meters some sort of shed/shack that has some electrical facility. There seems to be some areas for growing plants as well, perhaps 3 or 4. I’m now questioning if this is going to turn into a service road of sorts.
After about 24 kilometers into this crappy headwind I see some abandoned concrete apartment buildings and offices ahead.
I can see, and hear, some construction going on. Trucks loaded with concrete and I can see a few people in a shell of a 5 story concrete building. Appearing to be very Chinese, I can see that they are taking down the old bricks and stacking them to be reused.
With a little more pedaling, I can see that this appears to be an old Soviet military base/testing area. Continue a little further on the crumbling road…and then…pass the base…and then…AND…THEN…
…THIS…
Here the road would be considered in “great condition”.
The temperature is in the low 40’s (C), being swarmed by mosquitoes and flies, and…and…hundreds of empty vodka bottles.
I sit on the side, in the sand, sweating…and think about what I could be getting into.
No traffic, no people…oh wait…a massive olive green military truck passes with 2 Russians…no water (a salt water lake), possibly at least 5 days without water/food, headwind, empty vodka bottles: drunks?, eaten by mosquitoes and flies, LOTS AND LOTS OF SAND.
Okay, maybe that guy was right about no roads…be smart Ellen, turn back. Screw your pride, love your life.
I turn back.
I’m waved down by a couple truck drivers that are curious of what I’m doing and after stumbling over my broken Russian I move on. I’ve got a hell of a tailwind and I’m pedaling over 30km/h.
About 5km up a car comes up to me. A man and woman, Kazakh. They insist to come back to where they are working and they will drive me to town. I can stay at their home for the night. They look about my age and decent folks. I insist it’s not a problem, I can do this…but they are very very insistent on me spending time with them
They are at the old military base breaking down the walls and salvaging the bricks.
We have a bit of a picnic, with 2 other men that are working with them.
One is a bit older and he makes me laugh, the other is a sex pest in the making. Asking me for kisses…peering at me behind corners asking for more kisses. No dude, you aren’t getting any kisses.
So, after some work…and the older dude getting shit faced on vodka…we head back.
In the car, I’m in between both men and the older one on my left is really truck and accidentally grabs me a couple of times. As he is really excited to be talking to me. He means well…I just laugh.
The OTHER dude gives me that handshake with the wiggling middle finger in the palm. I pull away and look at him sternly and let him know I do not appreciate it at all. No more games with this shit…I’m tired of it.
We have to pull over to let oldie vomit.
Arriving to a classic Communist apartment block, we go inside.
Wow, it’s very nice and has really warm feeling about it. The couple’s son arrives and he can speak a little English.
We have dinner and then I retire to the room with the tv. Mr kissy is in there and asks me for a massage. “No.” or rather “nyet”. He begins to beg and I ignore him with my constant “nyet”.
He finally gives up and actually apologizes to me. It’s time for sleep.
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.
Tibetan Sisters, Nima Tibet 2011
Click image for more info on print sales. A portion does go to charity and the remainder helps continue this project.
Tashi Delay! and please be sure to keep up with what is happening in this part of the world.
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.
Moments of the past
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.
Moments of the past
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.
November 24 – YiWu to NaoMaoHuXiang
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.