Matty's report - Day 53 - 63 / 1 - 11
October 19, 2009
So, it started in the most understated of fashions; a desperately
boring two day train ride from Shanghai to Urumqi; capital of China's
Xin Jiang province and centre of a race conflict that has been brewing
for a number of months now.
After getting off the train in Urumqi and reminding myself of what fresh air smelt like, I made my way into the busy market place outside the station to wait for the big bearded guy to come and fetch me. Almost instantly I got a taste of the kind of attention we'd be drawing on our way through this part of the country; some 'Polizia' interested in what I was up to around Xin Jiang, a couple of teenagers wondering how many American Dollars I spent on my gear, and the standard street beggar with no doubt this foreigner has lots of loose change (misguided fool).
Cam and I eventually met up and spent the next two days getting my gear up to par, as well as giving him some extra time to get over the sickness he'd been battling.
We left Urumqi, starting the first leg of our trip, on the 1st of October, the beginning of China's yearly national celebrations; specifically the much anticipated 60th anniversary of the formation of the PRC. It was all a bit tense in the city, with armed police and para-military on every street corner, and Cam and I were both glad to be out of the city and on to the open tarmac of the G312; the road that would lead us all the way to Kazakhstan.
That first day was great riding, a blue sky and tailwind, and, as a first-timer, I was lulled into thinking that this is what this cycling thing is all about; freshly laid roads, slip-stream-able tomato trucks and average speeds in the late 20km's per hour. The third day of our trip was to be the day I found out what lay in-store for me on this journey, on the roads between a city called Shi He Zi and the next big city of Qui Tun; a town Cam and I now fondly refer to as the worst city in the world. We were met by some pretty brutal head winds the whole day, with my 'fresher' legs finding the hill-climb + head-wind combination a struggle. I struggled through to our goal of 100km and made it within striking distance of Qui Tun, so we decided to push on to the city-centre and indulge in a deserved shower and soft bed.
Accommodation choices were plentiful and, bleary eyed, we wandered into each one looking to find the best value out of them all, steering clear of the tallest one which had a look of needless luxury. We came across the standard issues with each; "no, we can't leave our bikes locked up here in the lobby... yes, we need to take them into our rooms", and after reaching a decision we made our way back to a hotel we looked at earlier (by this time I was ready to pass out).
"I'm sorry, you can't stay here. We're not certified to accommodate foreigners"... "What?!"... So, we tried the next best option. After making a call to someone the receptionist told us the same thing, "Please go to the tallest hotel down the road, you can stay there." Naturally, this meant a significant price difference and something we refused to accept, so, after I let out my frustrations with a fair amount of bad Chinese directed at nobody in particular but loud enough so every Chinese person near us could here, we set off out of the city to find something smaller and less controlled. We found this Ma & Pa type hostel, kind've the 'Faulty Towers' of Western China and asked them if they could have us to stay, they said yes, and we brought all our gear up, got unpacked and started to settle in. It wasn't until Cam had had time for a shower before the police arrived at our room's door and asked to see our passports, a bad sign. In an act of citizen protest and preempting the police escort we'd have to this expensive, foreigner-certified hotel, Cam and I decided to sneak out the back door and cycle as fast as we could through the night's streets until we found a suitable camp site, leaving the ridiculous policemen and their stupid laws waiting for no one in the hostel's lobby. Ha!... It was now 11pm, we'd started the days cycling at 8am and I was running on auto-pilot. We found probably the most dramatic setting to pitch a tent; in the full-moon lit desert brush, under the roar of the exhaust flame coming from a massive natural gas power-plant across the road, even coming with a set of high-voltage power lines crackling nearby. Needless to say, it wasn't the most restful of nights.
That day really put the Chinese leg of my journey into perspective; get to the border as fast as possible.
We had a few more such difficulties as we made our way West, rising with the landscape. We learned not to draw so much attention to ourselves and how to choose the right hotel in the first instance, finally reaching the alpine lake called Xian Li Mu Hu on the 7th. We decided to take a rest day there, taking in the awesome mountain views and the crisp high altitude air before the downhill ride to Korgos, the border crossing the Kazakhstan. The lake's inhabitants are mostly Mongol, sleeping in Yurts and herding their cattle with massive, wolf-like dogs. The first night we were there these dogs decided to play a bit of "Scare the crap out of cycling foreigners" while we were out looking for some sweet photo opportunities as the sun was setting. Cam had his camera in an un-zipped pocket of his jacket when 5 dogs, possibly 30, came barking out of a group of Yurts and chased us a couple of hundred meters down the gravel, pot-hole ridden, road we were on until such time as Cam's pocket was camera-less. We looked for a while, only to find out from a curiously well informed Mongol kid that a car of Chinese tourists had stopped and picked something resembling the camera's carry-case up off the road a couple of minutes ago and was long gone now... the implications of losing the camera didn't sink in for a while (most shocking of all is the fact that there is now no absolute evidence that I'm even on this journey!)... Dogs... Chinese Dogs...
We found it hard to describe the satisfaction we had as we crossed the border at Korgos, "We're not in China any more Toto!". You immediately notice the difference, the people, the food, the roads (maybe not for the better) and, obviously,the language... It's a little frustrating coming from somewhere you can express yourself freely, to a place where you're back to stupid charades within the space of an hour... But, the 380km trip from the border to Almaty was great fun, there was some interesting scenery and some great food... some Western food... some food that isn't Hand-pulled Noodles or Mutton Dumplings.
After getting off the train in Urumqi and reminding myself of what fresh air smelt like, I made my way into the busy market place outside the station to wait for the big bearded guy to come and fetch me. Almost instantly I got a taste of the kind of attention we'd be drawing on our way through this part of the country; some 'Polizia' interested in what I was up to around Xin Jiang, a couple of teenagers wondering how many American Dollars I spent on my gear, and the standard street beggar with no doubt this foreigner has lots of loose change (misguided fool).
Cam and I eventually met up and spent the next two days getting my gear up to par, as well as giving him some extra time to get over the sickness he'd been battling.
We left Urumqi, starting the first leg of our trip, on the 1st of October, the beginning of China's yearly national celebrations; specifically the much anticipated 60th anniversary of the formation of the PRC. It was all a bit tense in the city, with armed police and para-military on every street corner, and Cam and I were both glad to be out of the city and on to the open tarmac of the G312; the road that would lead us all the way to Kazakhstan.
That first day was great riding, a blue sky and tailwind, and, as a first-timer, I was lulled into thinking that this is what this cycling thing is all about; freshly laid roads, slip-stream-able tomato trucks and average speeds in the late 20km's per hour. The third day of our trip was to be the day I found out what lay in-store for me on this journey, on the roads between a city called Shi He Zi and the next big city of Qui Tun; a town Cam and I now fondly refer to as the worst city in the world. We were met by some pretty brutal head winds the whole day, with my 'fresher' legs finding the hill-climb + head-wind combination a struggle. I struggled through to our goal of 100km and made it within striking distance of Qui Tun, so we decided to push on to the city-centre and indulge in a deserved shower and soft bed.
Accommodation choices were plentiful and, bleary eyed, we wandered into each one looking to find the best value out of them all, steering clear of the tallest one which had a look of needless luxury. We came across the standard issues with each; "no, we can't leave our bikes locked up here in the lobby... yes, we need to take them into our rooms", and after reaching a decision we made our way back to a hotel we looked at earlier (by this time I was ready to pass out).
"I'm sorry, you can't stay here. We're not certified to accommodate foreigners"... "What?!"... So, we tried the next best option. After making a call to someone the receptionist told us the same thing, "Please go to the tallest hotel down the road, you can stay there." Naturally, this meant a significant price difference and something we refused to accept, so, after I let out my frustrations with a fair amount of bad Chinese directed at nobody in particular but loud enough so every Chinese person near us could here, we set off out of the city to find something smaller and less controlled. We found this Ma & Pa type hostel, kind've the 'Faulty Towers' of Western China and asked them if they could have us to stay, they said yes, and we brought all our gear up, got unpacked and started to settle in. It wasn't until Cam had had time for a shower before the police arrived at our room's door and asked to see our passports, a bad sign. In an act of citizen protest and preempting the police escort we'd have to this expensive, foreigner-certified hotel, Cam and I decided to sneak out the back door and cycle as fast as we could through the night's streets until we found a suitable camp site, leaving the ridiculous policemen and their stupid laws waiting for no one in the hostel's lobby. Ha!... It was now 11pm, we'd started the days cycling at 8am and I was running on auto-pilot. We found probably the most dramatic setting to pitch a tent; in the full-moon lit desert brush, under the roar of the exhaust flame coming from a massive natural gas power-plant across the road, even coming with a set of high-voltage power lines crackling nearby. Needless to say, it wasn't the most restful of nights.
That day really put the Chinese leg of my journey into perspective; get to the border as fast as possible.
We had a few more such difficulties as we made our way West, rising with the landscape. We learned not to draw so much attention to ourselves and how to choose the right hotel in the first instance, finally reaching the alpine lake called Xian Li Mu Hu on the 7th. We decided to take a rest day there, taking in the awesome mountain views and the crisp high altitude air before the downhill ride to Korgos, the border crossing the Kazakhstan. The lake's inhabitants are mostly Mongol, sleeping in Yurts and herding their cattle with massive, wolf-like dogs. The first night we were there these dogs decided to play a bit of "Scare the crap out of cycling foreigners" while we were out looking for some sweet photo opportunities as the sun was setting. Cam had his camera in an un-zipped pocket of his jacket when 5 dogs, possibly 30, came barking out of a group of Yurts and chased us a couple of hundred meters down the gravel, pot-hole ridden, road we were on until such time as Cam's pocket was camera-less. We looked for a while, only to find out from a curiously well informed Mongol kid that a car of Chinese tourists had stopped and picked something resembling the camera's carry-case up off the road a couple of minutes ago and was long gone now... the implications of losing the camera didn't sink in for a while (most shocking of all is the fact that there is now no absolute evidence that I'm even on this journey!)... Dogs... Chinese Dogs...
We found it hard to describe the satisfaction we had as we crossed the border at Korgos, "We're not in China any more Toto!". You immediately notice the difference, the people, the food, the roads (maybe not for the better) and, obviously,the language... It's a little frustrating coming from somewhere you can express yourself freely, to a place where you're back to stupid charades within the space of an hour... But, the 380km trip from the border to Almaty was great fun, there was some interesting scenery and some great food... some Western food... some food that isn't Hand-pulled Noodles or Mutton Dumplings.
Posted by Matthew McLauchlan. Posted In : Matty's reports
A charming young rogue in Beijing/
sought risk and the glory it brings./
He went far and wide
on an epic bike ride,/
and got up to unspeakable things.
