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