Monthly Archives: November 2015

Tibetan Plateau Pt. 1 – Uphill To Cloud 9

One of the things I enjoy about keeping this blog is getting to experience parts of my trip all over again as I sit down to try and make som kind of sense of it all in written form. Flicking through photos and glancing in diary entries from weeks back in an attempt to recall what I’ve actually been up to.

I tend not to not always notice it on my own, but these flashbacks really make it obvious how fast things are moving, in terms of everything from changing landscapes and cultures to shifts in my head and gut.

Last time I checked in with you guys I was in Golmud. Hopeful – but nervous like Professor Quirrell – and just about to head for that magic military checkpoint situated 30 something km south of town. The one that supposedly isn’t to let foreigners through it’s gates. But unfortunately also my only option for ever getting up the majestic Tibetan plateau, and the one that I so desperately wanted to pass.

This was a situation made to – if nothing else – at least create a good story. And it did. Unfortunately one that’d be a bit too long for me to jot down here, so I guess I’ll just save that one for my grandkids.

I’ll brief you with the short version though:

In full disguise, I left Golmud late afternoon hoping for the best. Reaching the checkpoint I snuck up behind a truck giving me cover from the controllers’ booth. All according to plan. But only until 5 minutes later when I got too curious too fast and ended up super-caught as I tried to sneak a peek of what was going on in front.

Caught and terrified to have ruined my own chances on the mountains I was dreaming of, I pulled out my best poker face and went for it. Being the stupid tourist or the briber, go for kissing up or acting out. There are so many ways to go about these stuff, and I had no plan.

What I ended up doing? Well. Equally horrified and amused, I watched myself kind of play… the girl card.

The one thing that shocked me more than my own creepiness and parodic fake laugh, was that it actually worked. It sure took it’s time, but after a long questioning, a few phone calls and some lengthy discussions amongst the earlier so stern guards – I was let through. Just like that.

??!!??!

So. With my pride left at the gates, the rest of me made a mental victory dance, jumped up the saddle and hit the road before giving anyone the opportunity to decide they’d made a mistake.

I was through. And this was going to be epic.

First thing up to reach the actual plateau is an enormous mountain pass on close to 5 000 meter ASL. As Golmud is situated on 3 000 meters, I was already decently acclimatised, but obviously still needed to keep a slow pace in order not to rise to fast.

Apart from comfortable and gorgeous riding, these days included some lovely hospitality. Nights were already starting to be quite a bit below freezing and when the opportunities of sleeping inside presented themselves, I gladly accepted.

Now, sleeping wise I did just as well camping in that storage room of a gas station as in the temple I’m showing you here. But obviously some places are more made to be shown off in a blog than others. This Taoist temple being one of them.


At first glance this place didn’t feel very welcoming…


But it quickly turned out to be run by the sweetest people ever!


My first ever temple overnight – check!

I was about to make way up my highest mountain pass to date, but it never really felt like such a big thing. Gradients were always mild and the roads flawless. So instead of focusing on a beating heart and complaining legs, I got to enjoy the surroundings and blue skies full on.


At 4 000 meters. Snowcapped mountains AND sand dunes?! Why not, I guess…

Even if I had had to work remarkably little for it, reaching the top of Kunlun Pass was amazing. Once again I was now standing on the highest point of my life, after which I knew the actual Tibetan plateau would be awaiting me.

Coming down from the pass I got a good night’s sleep in the last village on the ‘highway’ I was on, and then started off the next day by taking a left. A turn that in my mind symbolised the beginning of the plateau that would now be my home for the upcoming weeks.

From having shared the road with a bunch of loud and stinking trucks, everything went silent. As if from nowhere, I now again got to ride with that magical feeling of having the world all to myself. The cold combined with me not being able to wipe the smile of my face left me with a more or less permanent brain freeze – and all was good.

Very, very good.

I had been ready for scenic landscapes and stunning views, expecting what I guess could be described as a 2nd Pamir experience. And I was far from disappointed. What I hadn’t been ready for though, was the wildlife I’d find up there. Crazy! Hundreds upon hundreds of wild animals, everywhere and every day.


Do you know these fellows?


Curious, but always ready to rush down their underground tunnel systems

Also, there was more or less constant presence of animals giving away that there (despite the lack of villages) were people around. Occasional yurts dotted across the grasslands told me the same thing.

On this trip there are few things I’ve enjoyed as much as the big highlands. This time surely was no exception, though at the same time it was the most demanding one yet. Not because of the cycling itself. The roads were constantly smooth as silk and winds were not at all an issue in the way it has sometimes been in the past. There was really only one challenge here. The cold.

As soon as the sun was out, days were nice. Not warm enough to start peeling layers, but never with temperatures making the cold an issue. Though on days when the sun decided never to show up, things ended up a bit on the chilly side.

Really didn’t stop this place from being totally gorgeous though.

And obviously – sun or not – the nights on 4 000 – 4 500 meters ASL in November are freezing. With night time temperatures hovering around -15 °C I generally crawled down my sleeping bag wishing for the morning to hurry up. And the space in mentioned sleeping bag I was sharing with everything from batteries to food and bottles of water that also needed protection from the cold.

It’s not like they’re comfortable, but I still really enjoy these things. Anything (well, most things) that add to the feeling of adventure are more than welcome in my book.

There is one thing I enjoy even more though! Something that also tend to come more frequently as the conditions become harsh. Frequent readers of this blog might already know what I’m referring to. Homestays. Despite barely having a population, my ride across the plateau of western Qinghai would turn out to consist of many.

The whole thing was a bit like experiencing Persian hospitality with Pamir views. Food, shelter & amazing company came in from left and right, and thanks to the incredible people along my way I was always taken care of in the very best of ways.


One of the first families that invited me (with Dad behind the camera)

As most kids don’t give a crap about things like language barriers, they quickly tend to become my best friends and teachers when staying with families. In nomadic Tibetan families they tend to have lots of little ones running around, making these evenings the best ones ever.


Morning goodbyes – a completely useless part of the day…

Already beforehand I knew I would love this ride. But by this time I had more than actual proof for it. There is simply nothing like riding mountains. This whole adventure is about freedom. But the feeling of it never gets nearly as intense as when I’m up there, soaring among the clouds.

Best part about this though, was that I still had just only gotten started.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |November 30th, 2015|Asia, Travel Logs|

An Unexpected Friendship

However monotonous and eventless my desert and plateau ride was – it still wasn’t. Of course there are a lot of stuff I skip when sharing this journey with you. Partly due to me wanting to still have a few gems to tell when I get back, but in all honesty mostly due to my sometimes quite overwhelming laziness.

Here’s one I’d like you to know about though. One that turned from being a funny detail one day to an ongoing source of joy through the Chinese nothingness.

Here’s A Qiang!

(And no, I have no idea how to spell his name correctly)

One of those days when the headwinds were doing what they could to throw me all the way back to Sweden was when I first found him. The little guy with that everlasting smile on his face.

Thanks to the perfectly straight road and his high-vis pannier covers, I had seen him already from a far. Or I had seen something. After the better part of a year on the road I’ve had time to see the most bizarre things on and along the road, and by now I tend to accept pretty much anything as reasonable road-decoration.

By the time I reached him, I had had time to consider the possibility of that bright yellow thing over there being everything from an uncommonly extrovert local motorcyclist to a spaceship. I was even kind of suspecting that the whole thing might just be a mirage.

But a cyclist? No, that would just be too out of there.

Turned out however, I was very much in luck.

Because sure enough – there he was!

As with most Chinese people I meet, A Qiang didn’t speak a single word of English. And unfortunately his understanding of my pretty sad Chinese efforts were next to none as well (I really can’t blame him though). This however didn’t stop a new, and highly comical friendship to start taking shape.

So what if you can’t really speak to one another? If two cyclists bump into each other on the road (especially if this road happens to be situated in the middle of a huge desert) – you will camp together. Having company for dinner is nice, regardless if you can discuss local politics or not.

The next morning when we started off cycling together and rather quickly got separated, is when you would have thought this anecdote had come to an end. Where A Qiang turned into another micro chapter that would probably never be spoken about with anyone. But as I’m writing this, you already know this wasn’t the case.

I don’t know how likely or unlikely this was, but in the end we came into and left each others lives a bunch of times during the upcoming week and a half. And let me tell you it was fun! As we couldn’t really speak, and didn’t really have the same way to go about our days – we never really rode together. But in the end we still met and had lunch or camped anytime one managed to catch up with the other.

I still don’t know much about A Qiang. And he doesn’t know much about me. Our ways of communication – which generally needed support from maps, photos or hardcore charades – surely limited the possible topics of conversation. I think it’s sure to say there were a lot of ‘Me, Tarzan. You, Jane’-type of conversations going on there for a while.

Still. After spending a few nights cooking, relaxing and star gazing together with someone – even if most of it is in silence – a friendship will take form. This one was a particularly odd, but yet such a nice one.


A Qiang showing his around China route…


…of course with a chopstick for extra stereo-typicality!

Somewhere up on the plateau, we one evening ended up getting invited to stay the night at another one of those industrial areas that I wrote about in my last post. An evening that like others of it’s kind included some great people, and we were both falling asleep smiling, happy to be saved from another freezing night outside.

What made this overnight unique though was the morning. The breakfast, to be exact.

Chinese breakfasts are a lot different than anything I’ve stumbled upon before. But as I was quite used to them by now, that was not the thing. These guys had a little add on to theirs that kind of stood out to me.

A shot.

Yeah, that was one shot for me an A Qiang. Three or four for themselves. As some kind of fatherly gesture they were very strict with us not taking another one (as if any of us was even remotely tempted) – considering that we would soon be off on our bicycles. That they would just as soon be jumping into their tractors to start of today’s work didn’t seem to cross anyones’ mind.

Crazy world.

In the end, this particular morning would turn out to be mine and A Qiang’s last one together. And in all likelihood the last time we’d ever meet. Of course we didn’t know it then, but in hindsight I have to say that if there ever was a perfect morning to start off with a horribly strong shot of Chinese liquor – it was this one.

Cheers!

(Or as A Qiang would say – Ganbei!)

Fredrika

By |November 16th, 2015|Asia, Travel Logs|

Birthday, Plateau & A Right Turn

This post starts off where the last one ended. On a chilly but beautiful morning by the edge of the Chinese Taklamakan desert. A morning where I finally got my first glimpse of these.

The last bunch of days in the desert I had been longing for them more and more. I knew that in time China would give me more than my fair share of mountains, and that it could be wise to enjoy the easy cycling my days still consisted of. But by then I was kind of done with easy. And definitely done with sand.

Up was a couple of days climb to my first ever Chinese mountain pass. 3600 meter ASL might sound like a lot, and I guess by all means it is. However getting up there was remarkably easy. Coming in from Central Asia – used to climbing the dirt road Kamikaze passes of Tajikistan – surely played a role in what a breeze I experienced the whole thing to be.

‘Does it even count as climbing, with easy gradients, air full of oxygen and smoothly sealed roads like this?’

After a day of slowly gaining altitude I set camp just a couple of hours from the pass. Next day I would for the first time wake up as a 24-year-old, and figured that saving the pass would be a suitable birthday present to myself.

What my first on the road birthday was like? Different! And awesome.

Though however odd the day might have been – I didn’t have to miss out on too many things of what I remember my childhood birthdays at home to have consisted of.


Breakfast in bed (bag)


I’m an October kid – it’s supposed to be cold!


The sun soon brought some nice temperatures…


…and I got to cash in my present with a clear blue sky!

To top the day off, I crossed my first province border, leaving Xinjiang for Qinghai. Finally I really got to feel some sense of progress, and in other words – this was a good day.

Now one might think that things would really be changing from here. But to tell you the truth, they really didn’t. At all. Once up on the mountain plateau (around 3000 meter ASL), I was hit by just the same monotony I had had company for the last weeks. The only real difference being that most of the sand was exchanged by some kind of gravel, and naturally that the temperatures were now considerably lower.

Luckily, the slap-in-the-face camp spots also joined up the plateau.

I guess everyone has a limit where you’ve just had enough. By now I think I was getting closer and closer to mine, and the cycling started feeling more like a chore that anything else.

No matter how many hours I put into it, I could barely see myself moving on the map, and China slowly started to feel just as overwhelming as it’s supposed to do when you’re stupid enough to go at it on a pushbike.


Waiting for tired cyclists to throw in the towel?

Then – just like always when I need that extra push, life heads straight out to give it to me.

Now this sign might not tell you much. But really, this one made all the difference. This was my first real finish line since starting my Chinese ride. This was…

A turn.

The first actual turn since starting off in Kashgar. Weeks – and thousands of kilometers – ago.

Right for Golmud. Gosh.

No matter what logic would tell me – this was all I needed. That the turn itself was something like a one second event, and that the sign clearly stated that I then had another 359 km before anything else would happen, was completely irrelevant. I was in fact making progress, and this another proof of it.

The last few days into Golmud were good ones. Nothing revolutionary happened, but my head was back into appreciating things by default – and I no longer had to make an effort in order to have a good time. I guess at least some of you know what I mean?

I enjoy my own company a lot more when my mind is set like this. When I unconsciously look for the good stuff. They’re always there of course. But it’s so nice to see them also without necessarily be looking for them.


My first proper prayer flags!


Now this is a menu even a foreign cyclist can understand! (It’s a whole wall)


Even the views started to show up again

Daytime temperatures were still comfortable, but as the nights started getting colder and colder, the prospect of camping got less tempting as time went on. What good does the views do if you’re not out to see them?

There was still no civilization to speak of, but as my ‘sleep inside radar’ went on, I ended up having a couple of really weird – and absolutely hilarious – ‘homestays’ with people working at the industrial areas occasionally popping up along the road.

I consider one of my strengths on the road to be communicating with the people I bump into along it. It was long ago since I generally had a language in common with the locals, but it all tends to work pretty well with some basic vocabulary, body language and a lot of will power.

In China however. It’s so difficult. Never before have I had so much trouble with this, and daily I fail miserably with the most basic stuff you could imagine. Nothing works! At times this is obviously frustrating. But it can also be so much fun. With the right people the lack of communication becomes communication in itself, and when everyone just stops bothering with making themselves understood, the good times comes naturally.

These guys spoke Mandarin with me. I spoke Swedish with them. And it was great! Luckily laughter is universal.

Coming into Golmud I was exhausted. Like really, really tired. From home, I had gotten the best birthday present imaginable at the time – money to stay in a fancy hotel.

I mean. The kind where you have your own shower, are treated to a breakfast buffet (the weird Chinese one, but still!) and someone comes to clean your room every day like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Even my bike got it’s own bed, I think that if anything proves that this place was the real deal.

So what do you do? When you finally get inside, after weeks of working for it?

Damaged as I am. I set up the camera…


Me. For the camera.


Me. In reality.

Then, my friends. I spent the upcoming days the only way I knew how.

I spent them resting.

Hard.

Take care,

Fredrika

By |November 10th, 2015|Asia, Travel Logs|

A Desert Photo Bomb

After a few touristy days in Kashgar I was now comfortably settled into my new country, and it was high time to hit the road. Apart from a few days here and there, I had basically spent 3 weeks off saddle, and I couldn’t wait to start pushing those pedals again.

In hindsight – knowing what was up ahead – having that overflowing motivation to cycle would prove to save me a lot of misery the upcoming weeks. Headed East from Kashgar I was taking on the Southern route through the Taklamakan desert, a ride that is far from being made justice by simply being described as… lengthy.

The Taklamakan is the 2nd largest sand desert in the world. I think that sums the whole thing up pretty well.

My previous desert ride through Turkmenistan have among cyclists gotten the witty name ‘The Turkmen Desert Dash’ – which is as suiting as it could be. Now this ride doesn’t have a name like that, mostly since people generally don’t even consider going here. There are many reasons for this, with maybe the main one being that it in many ways is a rather stupid idea.

If the Turkmen Karakum is the sprint – the Chinese Taklamakan is no less than the marathon.

I do agree with that traveling this route on a friggin’ bicycle is stupid. There is no way around that. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not also a completely dreamlike experience incomparable to any other. And even if it wasn’t, I’d go for it anyways. I’m the first one to admit that I’m one of those twisted people who can enjoy a stupid stunt (heading out to cycle around the world, for one) from time to time.

Sitting by the keyboard, I’m hesitant as to what to write about this ride. There is so much to be said, but at the same time I have nothing. I mean – what happened, really?

‘Once upon a time, there was a road. A dead straight and never ending one. And then there was a girl slowly cycling it. The End.’

True story.

But yet again. As always. There was a lot more to it.

In many ways, I feel like this entire ride took place inside my head. Being both the most meditative and (when the winds hated me too much) frustrating experience imaginable. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s sure interesting what happens with ones mind when it’s given the opportunity to do its own thing, without any real input from the outside.

I guess some people come out of prison talking like this. And for others it’s enough with a big ass desert.

When setting off like this, the days quickly blur into each other and the whole thing becomes more like one constant flow of time and one single experience rather than chopped up happenings and different occasions.

And in opposite to the Turkmen desert, this one really treated me like a lady. Temperatures were always comfortable. Winds were many times pushing me on like never before. Road smooth as silk. There were never any real difficulties, and the whole thing was more about patience than anything else.

Even though some consisted of more camels than people, and others the other way around – the days were in many ways just repetitions of each other. In the very best of ways. It all quickly came down to the very basics, and soon the only thing that mattered was making sure to get enough food and sleep, all the while slowly but steadily making my way forward.

Super monotonous. And I loved it.

Maybe you get it, maybe it just sounds weird.

Either way – here you have a big photo splurge from my time in the Taklamakan:


Headed out of Kashgar. Still clueless of what was coming.


‘Are you sure you want to do this..?’


Soon it was just me and… a whole lot of nothing

The top highlight of this time was no doubt the evenings. To get off the road, with tired legs decide on a camp spot and make dinner just in time to watch the spectacular show the sun was giving each night. That’s just magic.


Mornings weren’t too bad either

But then of course. And this you can apply to any post I’ll ever put up here. All camp spots are not glamorous enough to make you guys at home jealous.


Still had a decent view though!

And what about the road? Well. You know this by now. It was… straight. And very long. These photos are taken with days apart:


I can really understand why they need these signs


Luckily I daily had friendly people stopping to cheer me on

Every now and then I reached one of the oasis towns popping up like if from nowhere. Perfect for stocking up on food, making sure that civilization still exists, and of course, checking up on the cotton harvest.

I really enjoyed those days with some more greenery. Or well – colors. Fall was definitely arriving in high speed, setting the trees on fire.

…And before you know it, you’re always back in the sandy nothingness of Taklamakan. A place I really grew more and more fond of as time passed. Writing this, I do miss the simplicity of life out there.

Many times I felt like the desert simply would go on forever. But as always, things do eventually come to an end. At least if you keep pedaling for long enough. And as I was riding into the sunrise one morning, they were there. At first the light was too bright for me to see them, but it didn’t take long before I realized that they (or I) had actually arrived. I had found the mountains.

Two weeks & 1 500 km. It’s weird how quickly something can go from feeling so permanent to suddenly just end. On one hand these weeks are so easy to describe. You know? I was cycling a straight road from Point A to Point B. Sometimes I had headwind and sometimes I didn’t. That was it.

But like always, and I’ve told you thing one too many times by now, it’s the small things that does it. The details that my diary entries are overflowing with, but that rarely make it to this blog.

Stuff like what real silence sounds like. How good it feels to brush a days worth of sand off your teeth. What it’s like to live purely off of the walnuts you find along the road when you’ve completely run out of food. The feeling of wanting to keep peddling, but only as long as it’s without risk of ever reaching the finish line.

Someday and in some way, I will tell you about these things as well. But when and how, I’ll leave for time to tell.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |November 5th, 2015|Asia, Travel Logs|