113. Rockin' and rollin' in Gansu: Over the Wushaoling Pass and up the Hexi Corridor

Four wonderful days of doing little except hanging out in the company
of good people with our host Kevin and his friends in Lanzhou and we
were back on the bikes riding west along the Yellow River and chasing
a tourer who had a billowing skull and cross bones mounted on the back
of his laden bike. With no mutual words to share except place names on
maps, we established that he was from Shaanxi province and bound for
Lhasa - a popular pilgrimmage route for young Chinese tourers these
days who can travel without permit problems onto the roof of the
world. At a railway crossing our silent smiling companion hit the road
when his wheels caught in the lines and he picked himself up and
dusted down his torn trousers signalling he was ok. Shortly after we
waved goodbye and stopped for a late and extortionate lunch of beef
and vegetables.

We crossed north over the Yellow River and headed up the G312 - the
highway that will take us the remaining 2700 odd kilometres across
western China. Originating in Shanghai on the east coast, the G312
crosses China along some of the ancient trading routes that were known
as the Silk Road. The new G30 motorway and the busy western railway
line also accompanied the venerable and aged original G312 up a wide
valley towards the Daban Shan mountains. Our first night out saw us
pitch up in a sheltered sliver of ploughed but not yet planted field
on the edge of a village. In the morning we cooked our porridge under
the silent gaze of an old farmer who had first judged us from afar and
then curiousity got the better of him and stood above us for a few
minutes before wandering back towards the village. Other villagers
return smiles and wave at us as we push our bikes back to the road and
ride north.

With a more sluggish pace we continued up the gentle incline into an
unfavourable wind as men and women took to their fields. We passed
Yongdeng and then through the Tianzhu Tibetan autonomous county while
a black sky gathered on the Daban Shan and we arrived into Dachaigou
in our rain gear with cold, wet faces. Only about 23 km short of the
summit of our almost 3000 metre Wushaoling pass, winter was still here
as we tried to unsuccessfully arrange a bed for the night, the local
police insisting we'd have to backtrack the 20 km we'd just toiled up
from Tianzhu rather than stay at the local guesthouse. The rain was
easing but flakes of snow began to fall as we cursed the ridiculous
rules and bade farewell to the warmth of the stove-heated police
station and headed out into the freezing headwind with supplies for
the night. Fortunately we struck lucky a few kilometres out of town
and found an excavated site off the road where we could pitch up out
of the worst excesses of the wind. Using all our cold weather gear and
winter sleeping bags the night was pretty comfortable except for the
dashes outside when nature called. We woke up to blue sky and
snow-covered mountains surrounding us. We pushed on up towards the
pass and after collecting some hot water for the flask and supplies at
a village shop we reached Wushaoling's windy summit (2990 metres) at
about 10 a.m. before descending below the snow-line into Anyuan where
we had steamed buns and eggs for a late breakfast around a luke warm
stove.

We were aiming for Wuwei, an important outpost of the Middle Kingdom
on the lower edge of the Gobi and the eastern end of the Hexi
Corridor, and stripped off layers as we dropped over 1500 meters into
the bustling little city. After no success with the cheaper lodging
options we resorted to the guidebook's recommendation, a fancy hotel
beside the reconstructed and impressive south gate, where for the
second time in a couple of weeks I was carting our Gobi sand-covered
paraphernalia around a fancy hotel with a luggage trolley.

We decided to take a day off to check out the sights including the
ancient bell tower that stands in the midde of a derelict site and the
Confucious temple and stele that are a Chinese version of the Rosetta
stone making translations possible from a double-sided stele featuring
the ancient Xin characters on one side and the more modern Chinese
characters on the other. Unlike other tourist sights in China, in this
part of the country you feel like you have discovered them yourself as
you wander alone.

With weather reports showing a generous tailwind we were back on our
bikes the next day with plans to reach Zhangye in three days time and
stay with another Peace Corps volunteer. Ellie was struggling though
with a cold and sinusitis and so we pulled over in Yongchang after a
local young rocker pulled up on his flashy motorbike and invited us
for lunch. Vinny as his friends call him is not exactly what one
expects to find in the Gansu desert - an accomplanished rock guitarist
speaking excellent English with his own bar and a passion for fast
motorbikes, the 26 year old brought us out for dinner in the evening
with his friends after finding us a hotel room across the street from
his pool/rock bar. He also fetched Ellie some tradtional chinese
medicine for her sinus.

Another stopover today in Yongchang to let Ellie recover before we
move on up the Hexi Corridor to Zhangye over the next couple of days.

Yongchang, Gansu, PRC
Pedalled: 69,784 km

112. Over the mountains to Lanzhou

We rode out of Chengdu in a convoy of three, with our companion Mark setting the pace for the first day that ensured we blew off the cobwebs from our month long layover. We almost reached Mianyang before taking a room on the roadside. Like some of the newer hotels we have lodged in before, our shared bedroom came with a clear glass screened shower and squat toilet, so those wishing to spectate can do so if they please.  Mark was bound for Songpan and we said goodbye the next morning before we rode through a soggy Mianyang. One of Sichuan's main cities and with a population equivalent to Ireland, the city was close to the epicentre of the 2008 earthquake that had caused particularly severe damage to schools and left an estimated 7000 pupils dead in the city alone. 

The G108 became quieter on the third day after Zitong as it wound up into the cypress covered hillside around Qiqushan temple. We have met a lot of local cyclists out touring over the past couple of weeks which is great to see. One fellow from Guangzhou had already clocked up 12000 km on a tour around China. One day we passed a trio on roller blades.

We ended up in Sichuan's northern city of Guangyuan after five days and almost chose a longer route via Xian as there was still some concern that there was no diagnosis over my guts and it might be better to stay closer to bigger towns than the more remote route over the mountains. That evening though I got the good news that the tests done in Hong Kong had finally proven amoebic colitis caused by an infection I had picked up along the road and which I had been treated for. So with this news we doubled back 20 km on the G108 and joined the 212 that would take us almost 800 km over the mountains to Gansu's provincial capital in Lanzhou. We had been evicted from our standard cheap hotel in Guangyuan as the city is the site of a nuclear facility and the authorities are more jittery than normal about the presence of hairy big-noses so we found ourselves confined to the posh international hotel where we had to fork out 25 euros for a fancy room - about five times are normal rate in China. For the first and hopefully last time on the trip a bemused bell boy loaded our mud spattered panniers onto the trolley and up to our quarters on the umpteenth floor. 

Across the provincial border in Gansu we entered one of China's poorest provinces although the construction continued even in these isolated mountains as the pillar foundations and tunnels for an elevated highway and a high speed train were being put in. Few foreigners make it this way and curiosity increased among the locals and the authorities. Most evenings the police would have heard about the cycling laowais in town and turn up with and bilingual registration forms for the legal aliens. I don't know where a this paper work ends up or if there's a central system charting our progress. 

The further north we went the landscape shrivelled up and desiccated hillsides through dust clouds in the air when gusts of wind blew. The harsh landscape was also etched into the faces of those who survive here. Those old enough may have experienced the horrors of the famine as a result of Mao's misguided policies in the late 1950s. Gansu and Sichuan were two of the worst affected areas in the country. This land is the cultural crossroads of China. The red-cheeked highlanders mix with Han and the Muslim Hui. The latter appearing to have cornered much of the market with their fresh noodles that closely resemble pasta. Mosques are another feature that lets Islamic Central Asia presence feel much closer now.

For the past few days we've been staying with Kevin, a Peace Corps volunteer who works at a university here in Lanzhou. We've spent time with several of the volunteers and Kevin asked us to give a talk to his students about the trip which was attended by about forty enthusiastic faces who were very engaged and curious. Life for most of the students here is quite strict and for the duration of their degree they share eight bed dormitories and have evening curfews. For many it's their first step of independence and can be quite a challenge for them to learn how to fend for themselves. Real freedom doesn't really commence until they graduate and begin working but social expectations that marriage should follow quite quickly puts pressure on young people to settle down before too long.

Lanzhou is also the point at which we join the historical trading routes that established the Silk Road. Lying on the upper reaches of the Yellow River, Lanzhou has long been an important outpost of the Middle Kingdom. The farthest reaches of the Great Wall lay just to the north of here, between the southern fringe of the Gobi desert and the Qilian Shan range where we will push north through Gansu's narrow waist, known as the Hexi corridor, in the coming fortnight.

Lanzhou, Gansu, PRC

Pedalled: 69,419 km

111. One Sunday morning in Hong Kong...

On Sundays in downtown Hong Kong many of the domestic helpers who live and work in Hong Kong's wealthier households, gather in the city's parks and on the pavements to enjoy their designated day off in the company of fellow migrants - mostly from the Philippines and Indonesia. There are approximately 300,000 domestic helpers (or 3% of Hong Kong's popultion). Last Monday, according to the New York Times, "the highest court in Hong Kong ruled unamimously that a woman from the Philippines who had lived and worked there for nearly 27 years as a domestic helper was not entitled to permanent residency, ending an acrimonious legal fight over the immigration rights of migrant workers."

Last Sunday was Cordillera Day where campaign groups in the mountainous regions of Luzon in the Philippines raise awareness of human rights abuses and the threat that activities such as mining and logging are having on the indigenous communities there. Some of the Filipino's working in Hong Kong also took to the streets with banners and music, dancing down the cordoned-off streets.

After following the parade for a short while we headed for the hills and hiked around the Peak overlooking Hong Kong harbour and Kowloon, amidst hundreds of Scouts running the trails.

We spent ten days in Hong Kong and our warmshowers host, Phil, who had first hosted us 18 months ago on our first visit here, very kindly put up with us again, fed us, navigated us and also brought us in to his school one day before they closed for the Easter holidays. In between doctor's visits we got to explore the mega-city some more and also got some bit and pieces for the bikes that are hard to come by in China (like a new crank set for Ellie's Long Haul Trucker) and had a good rest too. We returned to Chengdu with a (fingers crossed) clean bill of health on Wednesday and hope to be back on the bikes at the weekend, northbound for the mountains and Lanzhou, after a long month off our saddles.

Chengdu, China

110. Pandas and the People's Park

I somehow managed to delete the photos that were meant to accompany the last post on our ride from Kunming up to Chengdu (No. 109) and I am too lazy to upload them once again - including the impressive ones of the snow and ice - but here's a few of Ellie's pictures from the morning we visited the panda breeding centre here in Chengdu. The centre has both endangered giant pandas as well as the much smaller red pandas and both were incredible to watch as we arrived early in the morning before they chomped down their bamboo breakfast and promptly fell asleep again. They tumbled around one another and lay in very undignified positions as they stripped the bamboo. Some of the enclosures were quite impressive - large and spacious, whilst their indoor accommodation is rather bleak and prison-like. Normally in the wild, older giant pandas are solitary and use a 5 to 6 square kilometre area for their subsistence. Wild population estimates are between 1500 and 3000, mostly in the bamboo forested hills of Sichuan and a couple of neighbouring provinces. Needless to say, their habitats are continually threatened by rapid development, deforestation and pollution and the breeding centre sees itself as filling this gap. There is also a huge market in all-things-panda which makes one feel sometimes that its commercialisation is more important than its conservation. The other photos were taken at the People's Park, including a long-spouted brass tea pot and the sugar art. Ellie's camera died (again) a few weeks ago and she just replaced it here in Chengdu with a swashbuckling Canon G15...

 

Chengdu, China 

109. Across the Yangtze and into Sichuan

Our route north from Kunming took us through the drought stricken,

sepia landscape of Songming county and up to Qiaojia, where a youthful

Yangtze meanders among the high hills and deliniates the provincial

border between Yunnan and Sichuan. This is the homeland of the Yi (or

Lolo), one of the largest ethnic minority groups in the region who

number almost 8 million and are spread across the southwestern

provinces but their political enclave is Liangshan prefecture in

southern Sichuan. We stopped at a roadside guesthouse one evening and

after getting a bed for the night, the daughter of the establishment,

'Little Snow', a 21 year old arts student in Kunming, invited us to

the family table for dinner. The extended family cater to the passing

motor trade with regional specialities including fried pototoes. Her

aunt stood out at the table in her wonderfully colourful and elaborate

traditional dress after playing the ethnic stereotype for the day to

passing Han tourists - one common form of an attempt at cultural

survival or perhaps, less pessimistically, as an expression of the

minorities newfound respect and tolerance in the country.

On our last day into Liangshan's capital, Xichang, we were soaked in a

downpour at a high pass before dropping over a thousand metres to the

relative warmth of the city. We found a place and took a rest day

there and having failed to make contact with some foreign teachers

whom I had been told by a friend are working there, settled on having

a dinner of astonishing artery clogging capacity - a type of deep

fried pig fat served in a spicy oil sauce. Amazingly I managed to

mistakingly order the same dinner the following night in another cafe.

We left town in a more sombre mood, having learnt from a friend of the

death of a Guernsey cycling couple, Peter Root and Mary Thompson, in

Thailand a couple of day's previously as a result of a road accident

there. We'd never met Peter and Mary, who had just cycled out to Asia

from the UK this past year, but in the small cycling world we'd met

the sister of a Swiss cyclist in Kunming who had cycled with Peter and

Mary through a tumultous summer in Tajikistan's Gorno-Badakhshan

region where they were caught up in the skirmish in Khorog and filmed

the event (see their website: http://www.twoonfourwheels.com) and I

had their email in my notebook to drop them a line.

A rare stretch of near flatland and tailwind had us reach Mianning

rather effortlessly before we encountered another of the ever-higher

passes. It took over six hours to reach the 2600 metre summit after 55

km from Mianning with a very cold headwind keeping progress pedestrian

and our extremities frozen. When we finally began to descend at 6 p.m.

with less than an hour's light left, it tried to snow but to no avail

with so little moisture in the air. With just enough feeling to clasp

the brakes we dropped down and reached a roadside hotel in Liziping

where we took the heatless room (they always are) and after a scalding

shower continued the thawing process in our sleeping bags and down

jackets. Only a day or two earlier I'd been wondering aloud whether

we'd actually ever use all the cold weather gear we have with us. Yes

is the answer and so I got to wear my new best investment that night -

flourescent pink thermal leggings from Kunming.

The downhill to Hanyuan that I promised Ellie turned into a

rollercoaster ride along the scenic Dada He river, where less than 24

hours after being frozen in the mountains, we were able to buy oranges

by the roadside - fresh from the orchards we were passing and sit

basking in the sunshine that we are taking a little less for granted

now. It was all a ruse however, designed to lull us into a false sense

of sunshine as we set off the following morning for our final pass

(2200m) before descending into Ya'an and the Sichuan plain where the

provincial metropolis of Chengdu lies. Initial progress was good out

of Hanyuan, largely because I'd overestimated the distance, and after

noodles in Jiuxiang we set off towards the mountain pass, with

ancient-looking irrigated onion terraces and blossoming peach trees

fluttering in the breeze. The breeze soon resumed its cold fierceness

and strength that we had experienced a couple of days previously and

the mountain pass lay in an ominous cocoon of dense, angry cloud. As

the road snaked up the mountain, we struggled forward in the exposed

sections of the climb while catching our breath in the leeward shelter

of a turn in the road. Two young guys from Chengdu with their

day-packs bungeed to their racks were coming down the hill and were

able to tell us that the road was clear although there was snow at the

top. They were shaking with the cold and after a round of

photographing we quickly carried on our separate ways. We got our

thermals and rain gear on as the guys reckoned we had about 15 km left

to the top of the pass although fortunately it was only 8 km as that

alone took us almost two hours through an impenetrable fog that

reduced visibility to a few metres. It wasn't clear either that we'd

reached the top as we dodged the rocks that littered the road and the

odd truck that emerged from the fog. Then in an rather unjust turn the

misty drizzle became heavier rain once we began descending and down we

flew, losing body heat rapidly. We had to stop a couple of times on

the descent to get some feeling back into our hands as we couldn't

grip the brakes. Finally we arrived at a little village, 20 km down

from the pass and huddled around the large boiling pot of stock that

is used for the noodes, as our noodles were hand-battered, spun, wrung

and then chucked into the pot, whilst the village spectated. With

night arriving we opted for the little guesthouse across the road with

a friendly family and hot shower.

Two days later we pedalled into Chengdu. After one night with Dhane,

an American warmshowers host in the south of the city (he was

relocating to Nepal the next day) we pedalled downtown and have been

holed up in Sim's Cozy Garden hostel for the past two and a half

weeks. Whilst we've seen quite a few things here in the city, made

some friends, watched some bad movies, read some good books and made

an excursion to hike up Mount Qingcheng, most of our time has been

spent in various clinics and hospitals trying to diagnose and resolve

some gut rot that I've had since arriving in China a few weeks ago.

There's plenty of scope for some humorous stories relating to seeking

medical treatment here and my miming skills relating to volumes,

quality and texture of poo have been well-honed but perhaps I'll save

that for another time. After a battery of tests and exams here we're

leaving our gear and bikes and flying to Hong Kong tomorrow morning to

see some more poo specialists. Stay tuned!

Chengdu, China
Pedalled: 68,228 km

108. A second New Year in Kunming

We had entered China before we'd even left Laos. Boten special

economic zone straddles the border and was built by the Chinese. It

looks like China. The street signs, the shops, the policemen, the

concrete apartment blocks. Chinese truck drivers were already forming

a queue before the Lao immigration windows opened for the day. By nine

thirty we were through both Lao and Chinese immigration and apart from

a cursory inspection by a serious young Chinese customs officer of our

passports, we were waved into China's Yunnan province.

We followed the main highway to Mengla, the road so wide at times it

resembled a runway. Laos is small scale. Little of small-scale China

remains. Agriculture is a serious business this side of the border.

Polythene wrapped fields, valley floors covered with protective

netting, along with prolific use of the latest modern wonder

chemicals. Bananas grew cocooned in large blue plastic bags and were

kept insulated from the winter chill with white foam wrapping. All of

which gathered in small mountains of rubbish piles along the roadside.

For many centuries Yunnan lay beyond the reach of the feudal states

and then empires of the Middle Kingdom. Thant Myint U describes Yunnan

as "China's wild southwest. It was a land of outlaws and miscreants

and exotic religious sects, a place where musket-slinging Han settlers

battled bow and arrow-wielding tribesmen and aliens from beyond the

pale. Its jungle-clad mountains teemed with fearsome animals and its

torrential rivers, thousand foot cliffs and deadly miasmas deterred

all but the hardiest of frontiersmen." The jungle has for the most

part been replaced by cash crops and plantation trees and many of the

rivers have been dammed for hydropower to feed the nation's insatiable

appetite for energy. Still some pockets remained and we spent several

days following the quiet backroads northwards from Mengla to

Jiangcheng, through the Dai villages - now a hotch-potch of

traditional wooden houses and generic concrete boxes. The road wound

mercilessly over the mountains that dominate the province. This is

China's most ethnically diverse and biodiverse region and home to some

of Asia's major rivers - the Irrawaddy, the Mekong, the Yangtze and

the Pearl rivers all pass through the province on their way down from

the adajacent Tibetan plateau.

Occupying a pivotal position with its international borders to south

east Asia and in particular Burma and a coveted supply route to the

Indian ocean, the province has become of prime importance in the

country's development policies. The old city of Kunming where we

arrived a couple of days ago has been razed to the ground in the past

twenty years and replaced with a modern skyline and yet remarkably

devoid of inhabitants. It's the Spring festival - the Chinese New Year

- and the largest annual human migration is taking place. Over 200

million Chinese are returning home - mostly migrant workers from the

cities to their rural homelands, often a trio of father, mother and

child on a motorbike. Most businesses are closed and fireworks blast

away in fresh nighttime air. Strong winds blow away any pollution and

visitors from northern smog-bound cities are astounded that they can

see the stars in this 1900 metre high metropolis of 6 million people.

Kunming, Yunnan, People's Republic of China
Pedalled: 67,188 km

Thanks to more donations, we're almost at the first thousand - 992
euros have been raised so far for the Peter McVerry Trust. Donations
can be made via my webpage on mycharity.ie -
www.mycharity.ie/event/julian_bloomer_the_slow_way_home

107. Last days in Laos

 Our wonderful hosts in Luang Prabang - Pierre and Annette

After several wonderful days with Pierre and Annette in Luang Prabang we said goodbye reluctantly and set off on the last stage to the border. A couple of short days to Pakmong and then we retraced the same hilly and bumpy 100 km section to Oudomxay that we'd done almost a year ago to the day. The road is still broken up and the villages still look as poor as they did a year ago. We decided then to ride up to the provincial capital of Luang Namtha and have a couple of days rest before the Great Chinese Endurance race begins. We've been here the past couple of days, mostly staring at maps and getting giddy looking up elevation gains on www.bikeroutetoaster.com. On either of the two main route options through China's southwestern province of Yunnan and up to Sichuan's capital, Chengdu, the elevation gained is approximately 50,000 metres in 2000 km. Or five and a half Mount Everests.

Somewhat surprisingly the route through the higher mountains via Dali, Lijiang, Lugu lake, Liangshan and up to Chengdu actually comes out at less overall elevation gain than if we stay lower down and go via Kunming to Liangshan. Either way we've got plenty of hills to keep us warm in the cooler weather coming up.

Google won't be accessible for the most part in China, so I can't update the maps and blog directly but I'll publish posts on the blog by email, so they'll appear unedited.

Stay tuned!

Once again thank you for more recent and very generous donations that have brought the fundraising up to 967 euro! Anyone wishing to contribute to the work of the Dublin-based Peter McVerry Trust can do so on my webpage at mycharity.ie: here. Many thanks...

 Boyz in the wood

Ellie's fan club gather at the roadside for their morning wave

 "SAIBAIDEEEEEEEE!!!"

The owner of this guesthouse in Pakmong had been a Buddhist 

monk and later a soldier during the Second Indochina War. 

He trained as a paratrooper in California in the early 70s.

 Misty mornings

Dusty riding near Ban Song Cha on the main highway to Oudomxay and the Chinese border

Petrol station

Pigs on the run

Playing hide and seek: anyone see a little boy?

There he is!

Ellie gave these kids her catapult that she'd bought in Thailand

 

Hill village

 

Seen several of trucks that overturn on the bends. 

This was a Chinese lorry heading for the border with bananas.

Villagers had come along and carted off most of the bananas to their homes nearby.

Luang Namtha, Laos

Pedalled: 66,311 km