Hello to one and all from Pokara, really very little to report from the last three weeks and a meager 300km travelled. After waiting in Kathmandu for two weeks for adequate tyres to arrive for Rocanante sent specially from Bangkok my feet were as itchy as they can get to hit the road once more. Having been under a rigorous and some times brutal get fat plan in Kathmandu my energies were high and my lungs full to the brim with the comparitively large amount of oxygen at 1000m so it was with great spirits that I delved in to the Kathmandu traffic on a rainy Monday morning. Despite a few skin burning hours of sunshine which reminded me how nervous I am about how devishly hot the plains of India are going to be the rain followed me with a commendable taunascity so rarely seen in monsoon showers. It did little to dampen my mood as I followed an impeccably paved road through lush valley after lush valley with gushing rivers heavy with the monsoon cascading over every available rockface to accompany its brethren in the raging torrents racing towards the plains to add to the local's miseries.
I took my time on my way here taking a few side trips to Gorkar and Bondipor including a rather eventful camping beside bulging paddies which in retrospect was not the smartest idea but if you saw the view from my opened tent door you would understand the risk. So I arrived here a very damp boy and with a rather nasty dose of dysentry which in the last four days has destroyed what my 2 weeks of the costly get fat plan had achieved, serves me right for drinking well water during the monsoon, I might have to penney pinch in a more intelligent manner in the future.
There are many viable reasons for me to stay here in Pokara for an extended amount of time, the floods, the 40 degree heat in the plains at the moment and the vast amount of time I have to get to Delhi a mere 2000km away but I think the main reason is how much I love it here. Yoga every morning, followed by a swim in the lake (my first since Sydney), great cheap restaurants and an amazing family guest house tucked away at the agreeable price of a euro a night with some very interesting neighbors as only a place like Pokara can provide, viva las hippies! My plan at the moment is to pass another week here and then make my long awaited return to India and Varanasi, about 700km away.
I will finish with a quick ode to the Nepalese people. They are without doubt one of the most genuinely friendly people I have met on my travels to date with an unbelievable knowledge of the English language from large town to small complimented by manners that only close proximity to a commonwealth country can provide. Though never one to condone colonialism any institution which promotes the use of referring to me as "sir" by all and sundry has to have its good points, at last some bloody respect!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Kathmandu
This particular computer will no allow me to upload any of my photos, I believe it is a personal affront as I have seen it do so before, rather than be discouraged by its flipant disregard to my readers visual pleasure I will carry on regardless and attempt to entertain you without any bright colour aids.
I arrived in Kathamndu about 5 days ago, a shadow of my former self. The unseasonal dryness which the himalayan gods offered me on my route to Lhasa was replaced by a persistant 10 day deluge, maybe a little exagerated but one must allow for poetic liscence, which left my spirits a little low and my need for civilised comforts at an all time high, which this city of plenty has duly catered for amply.
Despite having an amazing time in Tibet, by the end I was a very happy chappy to be leaving it, its idea of a fond fairwell are very different to my idea of polite goodbye, but then again it seemed fitting in a country that abides by no conventianal rules of courtesy. But courtesy has no place in such a harsh enviroment, the places where these people live and beat out an existance boggles the mind, children throwing rocks at me and pooing outside my tent seems more suited up there then if they were to invite me for afternoon tea, its nature versus nurture, both of which in Tibet would contrive to make any individual wild. I would hate to give off the impression that Tibetans are not nice people and inevitably the reaction you get from most is one of friendly inquisitiveness but they are like no other race of people I have met, there is a vacancy in there eyes and a coldness about there person that makes it very hard to engage in any sort of interaction. I have no idea if this is an historical trait of their race or a reaction to being ruled by the same regime which turned their most sacred temple in to a pig sty and exiled their spiritual leader. Despite trying to delve in to the subject on numerous occasions with both sides of the story, inane blankness was the usuall reply or if I am lucky a speal of chinese rhetoric, very entertaining, the propanganda machine, though losing some weight in the past decades is still in great use in china today.
The road from Lhasa to Kathamndu passes turquise salt lakes, lunar landscapes, plenty of 7000m + mountains and offers on five occassions spectacular views of Mt. Everest. I saw the lake but the rest I will just have to take other peoples words for it, glimpses of vast glaciers which herald the base of something huge are all I got to glimpse between the huge grey clouds which were constantly getting blown about by the prevailing southerly gale, which turned out to be my great nemesis of the last leg. A nemesis which brought me to tears on my last double pass in Tibet which were both horrifically exposed peaks of over 4900m, the horizontal hail battering my face was nothing compared to the foe who forced me to dismount and tackle the last kilometere by foot which still was no easy feat, much to my dismay this foe continued to blow for the next 140km, taking away any pleasure from the worlds biggest vertical descent which would of been hard to take anyway considering the quality of the road. A section of road to the Nepalese border was described in a guide book as "1600m vertical descent in 33km, you are going to fly", the particulars were correct and the flying part could well of come true aswell if I did not hastily redirect my bike in to a pile of sand instead of departing off the side of a cliff. The road was under construction which meant it was a bomb site, I had to sit and watch as they blew up a cliff over the road only for a piece the size of the road to depart from its perch crash in to the road and take the road with it down the side of the cliff, on two occasions i had to carry my bike over huge boulders with falling rocks narrowly missing my cranium, on a particular powerfull river crossing my front paniers took a bit too much pressure and toppled my bike, dunking me rather uncerimoniously in the river, the worst of it was the rapid erosion of my brake pads leaving me by the end virtually brakeless for the 200km to Kathmandu. what I optimistically proposed as taking me less then an hour to pass, this particular section of road took me a little less then 4 hours.
On the whole it was a very enjoyable leg of the voyage although I have only mentioned doom and gloom, it just makes a better read then another composition on the picturesque beauty of the Himalayas and how brilliant bicycle touring is, I believe I have mentioned that before. I will be in this city for another week while I wait for the lethargy of Indian Beaurocracy to sort out my visa and then it is to the west or maybe east or maybe south, who knows.
I arrived in Kathamndu about 5 days ago, a shadow of my former self. The unseasonal dryness which the himalayan gods offered me on my route to Lhasa was replaced by a persistant 10 day deluge, maybe a little exagerated but one must allow for poetic liscence, which left my spirits a little low and my need for civilised comforts at an all time high, which this city of plenty has duly catered for amply.
Despite having an amazing time in Tibet, by the end I was a very happy chappy to be leaving it, its idea of a fond fairwell are very different to my idea of polite goodbye, but then again it seemed fitting in a country that abides by no conventianal rules of courtesy. But courtesy has no place in such a harsh enviroment, the places where these people live and beat out an existance boggles the mind, children throwing rocks at me and pooing outside my tent seems more suited up there then if they were to invite me for afternoon tea, its nature versus nurture, both of which in Tibet would contrive to make any individual wild. I would hate to give off the impression that Tibetans are not nice people and inevitably the reaction you get from most is one of friendly inquisitiveness but they are like no other race of people I have met, there is a vacancy in there eyes and a coldness about there person that makes it very hard to engage in any sort of interaction. I have no idea if this is an historical trait of their race or a reaction to being ruled by the same regime which turned their most sacred temple in to a pig sty and exiled their spiritual leader. Despite trying to delve in to the subject on numerous occasions with both sides of the story, inane blankness was the usuall reply or if I am lucky a speal of chinese rhetoric, very entertaining, the propanganda machine, though losing some weight in the past decades is still in great use in china today.
The road from Lhasa to Kathamndu passes turquise salt lakes, lunar landscapes, plenty of 7000m + mountains and offers on five occassions spectacular views of Mt. Everest. I saw the lake but the rest I will just have to take other peoples words for it, glimpses of vast glaciers which herald the base of something huge are all I got to glimpse between the huge grey clouds which were constantly getting blown about by the prevailing southerly gale, which turned out to be my great nemesis of the last leg. A nemesis which brought me to tears on my last double pass in Tibet which were both horrifically exposed peaks of over 4900m, the horizontal hail battering my face was nothing compared to the foe who forced me to dismount and tackle the last kilometere by foot which still was no easy feat, much to my dismay this foe continued to blow for the next 140km, taking away any pleasure from the worlds biggest vertical descent which would of been hard to take anyway considering the quality of the road. A section of road to the Nepalese border was described in a guide book as "1600m vertical descent in 33km, you are going to fly", the particulars were correct and the flying part could well of come true aswell if I did not hastily redirect my bike in to a pile of sand instead of departing off the side of a cliff. The road was under construction which meant it was a bomb site, I had to sit and watch as they blew up a cliff over the road only for a piece the size of the road to depart from its perch crash in to the road and take the road with it down the side of the cliff, on two occasions i had to carry my bike over huge boulders with falling rocks narrowly missing my cranium, on a particular powerfull river crossing my front paniers took a bit too much pressure and toppled my bike, dunking me rather uncerimoniously in the river, the worst of it was the rapid erosion of my brake pads leaving me by the end virtually brakeless for the 200km to Kathmandu. what I optimistically proposed as taking me less then an hour to pass, this particular section of road took me a little less then 4 hours.
On the whole it was a very enjoyable leg of the voyage although I have only mentioned doom and gloom, it just makes a better read then another composition on the picturesque beauty of the Himalayas and how brilliant bicycle touring is, I believe I have mentioned that before. I will be in this city for another week while I wait for the lethargy of Indian Beaurocracy to sort out my visa and then it is to the west or maybe east or maybe south, who knows.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
This was one of the most impressive roads to look at but one of the most disastrous roads to descend. White knuckles clenching the brakes the whole way over loose rocks and silty sand, if the speedometer read more then 20 you were happy and then suddenly petrified at the impending quarry you had to pass and the seemingly inevitable buckled wheel.........good photo though.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
This isme struggling in to a headwind on my first 5000+ pass ( I say plus because it sounds more substantial than 5011m), the second of the two 5000+ passes which stood in my way between Kunming and Lhasa bizarely peaked at 5013.25m, there was even a large marble plaque to boast of the fact. I concluded that there must be a pass standing at 5013m in Japan or someother historicaly rival nation, not to call the chinese petty but it somehow fits in with their mentality on all things past. The second pass was a much easier affair thanks partly to paved roads, me being alot more acclimatizd to the altitude and most importantly safe in the knowledge that in two days time I would be safely installed in the western comforts of Lhasa. The first on the other hand was on semi-passable dirt roads, it was the first time at being at said altitude since getting appallingly altitude sick in Peru and being daunted by the knowledge that I stil had over 1200km to Lhasa, the last 3km of the climb took about an hour with anti-fainting breaks every 100m or less. My 50kg of bike and bags never felt heavier, nor my matchstick legs weaker.
I will try and be brief about the last month but there has been so many memorable experiences it may not seem so to the reader. The first three days from Dequin deserve special attention as these were the boarder crossing days, a time for cloak and dagger carry on. There were and to the best of my knowledge still are three main checkpoints which the independent traveller must be wary of, one could be passed at day the other two to be passed at night. So from Dequin it was 117km to our proposed campsite just outside Yinjian the site of our fist night crossing. It was to be an easy day with a 1500m vertical descent before a gradual climb up a river gorge. This was my first lesson that there is no such thing as an easy day in the Himalayas. The road was a mess, with punctures galore and kept us at best at a frustrating 12km an hour meaning we cycled from 8am to 12am with a quick nourishing noodle soup as our only sustanance. The day checkpoint provided an adrenaline rush, cycling by the police station in the middle of the village as nonchalantly as possible trying to make out we belonged as much as the wallowing yakswe hear shrill whistles and shouts coming form the direction of the station, our nonchalance turns to fightened haste quite quickly as we drop a gear and cycle like Lance " uh-oh a barrier, never mind we will go around through that shallow puddle, bugger not so shallow, damn stuck in the mud, push push, I'm free, go go". 2km later, muddy and sweaty but free. Was never quite sure if they were shouting and whistling at us, maybe they were inviting us for tea and biscuits, it will just have to be one of lifes mysteries that I will never discover. As the sun set and we switched to headlight reliance we turned a corner and heard a commotion, as my headlight is of the cheap chinese market variety its brilliance leaves alot to be desired we trudged on in pitch black ignorance to find a mass meeting of Tibetan horse people removing supplies from the back of a truck, as surprised as we were by this chance encounter we exchanged a warm "hello,ok,goodbye" (the tibetan staple) for umpteen times then decided it was time to push on. Unfortunately this was the start of 200km of roadworks so unbeknownst to western tarmacadamed Will roads could actually get worse and by golly they did. We concoled ourselves witha dusty building site hole on the side of the road to prepare our noodle soup and try to obtain a restless two hours sleep before continueing up along the cliff edge 3km from the first danger checkpoint. Leaving at 3am under the glow of the clearest noght sky I have ever seen we etched on lightless so as not to draw attention to ourselves. After nearly falling off the side of the cliff a couple of times we decided rather astutely that maybe one headlight might not be such a bad idea. Reaching the first lighted checkpoint we snuck by like burglar bill, climbed aboard our bikes and proceeded to get hopelessly lost in the back streetsof Yinjiang. Monty Pythn could not have done it better, two western fools trying to play espionage, oafing about for a couple of hours untill finally finding the way passed the second checkpoint before dawn. I think I can strke international spy off my potential employment possibilities.
The day before the second night crossing in Markham was noteworthy because of the appalling weather which turned the road in to a rocky, muddy ice rink, which my road tyres were no match for, coming off the bike twice and getting close countless other times was quite appealing in comparison to the hail stones lashing my face and the two torrent river crossings which left my person in a frozen state. At the camping spot still 20km from the checkpoint crossing the temptation to get a little closer was strong but the two ice blocks attached to my ankles refused to move. After a bountiful 4 hours sleep we left our camping spot at 2.30am and blindly went along in 1degree heat on went partly constructed roads, my fearless companion missed a turn went off the road but happilly collided witha pile of sand, we semi-heartilly laughed off the rediculousness of the situation. Only one more trial awaited that night in the form of a calf hungry dog who was out for a midnight treat, a quick rap on the head with our dog fighting sticks prompted him to look elsewhere.
After safely arriving in tibet the time just flew by with the passing of awe-inspiring scenery, glacial river bathing, tibetan festivals, stone throwing kids, near brushes with the police, sampa induced sickness, yak tribesmen, snow showers and torn achilles, oh yes and a hell of alot of cycling. Perhaps if I was a better typer I would delve in to these topics but I am not so I wont. I have to save some stories to bore my grandchildren with on winter eves.
Just a quick note about a remarkable 22year old student from Xi'an whom I met along the way. It was not just the fact that he was cycling to lLhasa that made him remarkable as that would be rather blowing my own trumpet but the fact he was doing it on a single speed bike the type of which you would be hard pushed to find in rural parts of India due to its antiquity. He is also planning to return by such a vehicle, the mad man. On the same note I was also impressed by the pilgrims I regularly passed on the roadside whom every step they take they fall flat on their face in salutation to Budha I suppose, I never asked. These people I passed more then 1000km from Lhasa and I hold nothing but the highest admiration for people who contain such devotion. These people also made me realise that if you compare your personal achievements with those globally you will always end up dissapointed and probably then turn rather bitter and twisted, a quite important minefield to be avoided.
So that is all from this inspiring town where I will pass the next week to rest my aching bones and chaffing ass before heading on via Everest base camp to Kathmandu where I should be by mid August.
Monday, June 25, 2007
I have posted a few photos of the last few days to try and portray the variety of landscapes I have cycled through from Lijiang to Deqin but they dont seem to do them justice but then again photos rarely do, on that same note here is a picture of me. This was on top of my first 4000 metre pass, 4267 metres to be precise after 2 nights of camping in torrential rain and a 52km (20 of which were on cobbles), 2300 metre vertical ascent from the gorge of the youthful Yangtze river which unfortunately due to its force there were no cormorant assisted fisherman, nor cormorants, nor fishermen so maybe my childhood books were telling me lies, best not to think about it. Excuse the rambling I believe only the members of my insular family will have any idea what the hell I am talking about so back to the importancies. The Himalayas of this particular region seem to go up in very different phases of climate and flaura, not wanting to over simplify this immence natural beauty I believe it the best way to describe:2000-3000- arid desert like river gorges with very little greenery to note but towering walls of varying dusty browns surrounding you at every angle.
3000-4000- depending where you are this altitude is either huge plains inhabited mainly by yaks, lucky blighters (that is unless they are dried then they are very tasty blighters) aswell as a beautiful collection of wild flowers and the inevitable grass. the other option is Alpine slopes covered in various types of pine trees but also with a plethora of different coloured wild flowers, I believe this to be your favourite altitude mum, also the campers due to the large amount of desirable pitching areas.
4000-5000- Coming out if the Alpine reaches and in to big mountain stuff, I have seen mountains today the colour of which nearly rival those of the Andes, bright copper reds, oranges and for the first time metallic silver alot of them look straight from Mars, or perhaps Mars looks like it comes straight out of the Himalayas, a rather pointless argument.
4500-6000- Finally reaching the white stuff, glaciers, glaciers and more glaciers, they make the Tignes glacier look like something that fell out of my freezer.
These last descriptions are all a little blazee and I am sure anyone who has been to this area before can nit pick a fault in every single altitude category but I am rather rushed for time and posess a limited capacity for the english language so by no means is this descripion gospel.
I have so much more to tell of the past week besides the scenery but I will finish with a farewll for the timebeing as I am about to cross the border in to unchartered waters well illegal waters to be more precise so like some kind of western fugitive i have to avoid towns during day for the next week or so, so the federales (PSB) dont catch on to me. I am sure it is not that bad but it adds a bit of excitement and saves the hassle of being sent back to Kunming with a fine lightening my pockets. So my last night in a bed potentialy untill Lhasa so it shall be enjoyed. If you want to conclude this e mail by humming "man on the run" by wings I believe, by all means do so, because it is what is going through my head at the moment.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Unfortunately my camera battery has given out so no photo on this belated report but judging by the himalayan scenery I have already encountered you will be sick of the sight of specacular mountains by the time i reach the plains of India in a few months time. Patience is after all a much sought after virtue!
Kunming reminded me and my trusty 2 wheeled steed of all that we have forsaken on my quest for the holy Dubh Linn. A comfortable city life with a great collection of friends complimented by a not too shabby night life and adding to this the bewildering process of how the Chinese manage to get anything done with such a flipant attitude to deadlines and you may begin to understand how difficult it was to tear myself away. But torn I am in Lijiang safe in the knowledge that I will return to this fascinating country for a concerted time sometime in the not so near future. Now is not a time in my life I care to stagnate so onwards and with the route in mind very much upwards.
"But wait" I hear my cultured reader remark "surely you are in China until you cross in to Nepal", how very astute of you to notice, though indeed I will be in china for a further two months in a poetic and bohemian manner I will from hence forth consider myself in Tibet. I am writing this with with one eye over my shoulder because if the communist party caught wind of the last sentence I could promptly be lying in a Lijiang jail having bamboo trees being grown through my naked torso!. I am nearly sure that does not go on any more but it adds some dramatic affect to this rather mundane paragraph. It is rather hard to keep this free thinking view of a Tibet when every inch of historical cobbled streets are infested with massive camera toteing Beijingites willing to steam roll over any unfortunate soul who gets between him and his flag waving tour guide. Up to now I believed the middle aged french tour group to be the plague on all places of natural and historical beauty but it seemed the devil had another card to play on the unsuspecting traveller.
This town like the last (Dali) are indeed beautiful but they bring to mind that if you got lost between "Thunder Mountain" and "Sea World" you may stumble upon Walt Disney's impression of what Olde China looks like, though I dont think Mao had his wicked way on these towns during the cultural revolution, I am sure they are not in their original state, I have even been told that the women in the indiginous Naxi tribe dress who perform the traditional dances are actually actresses brought from cities to the east. How deliciously irreverent this country is.
Back to the basics of this voyage, though as before mentioned I was dubious to leave Kunming getting back on the bike quickly reinserted the joy of the road in to my soul. I camped my first night last night feasting on home made noodle soup surrounded by fledgeling fir trees and forrested slopes reaching up to the dizzy heights of 4000 metres, an aperitif of whats to come.
A recouperation day tomorow before passing through "Tiger leaping gorge" on the way to Zhongdian where my intrepid cycling companion Vince will have his first run in with the law as he pleads his case for a visa extension. My mind boggles with the thought of crossing check points at night, camping for 2 weeks straight during the monsoon and cycling passes of up to 5200 metres but right now I would not be happier sitting anywhere else in the world.
Kunming reminded me and my trusty 2 wheeled steed of all that we have forsaken on my quest for the holy Dubh Linn. A comfortable city life with a great collection of friends complimented by a not too shabby night life and adding to this the bewildering process of how the Chinese manage to get anything done with such a flipant attitude to deadlines and you may begin to understand how difficult it was to tear myself away. But torn I am in Lijiang safe in the knowledge that I will return to this fascinating country for a concerted time sometime in the not so near future. Now is not a time in my life I care to stagnate so onwards and with the route in mind very much upwards.
"But wait" I hear my cultured reader remark "surely you are in China until you cross in to Nepal", how very astute of you to notice, though indeed I will be in china for a further two months in a poetic and bohemian manner I will from hence forth consider myself in Tibet. I am writing this with with one eye over my shoulder because if the communist party caught wind of the last sentence I could promptly be lying in a Lijiang jail having bamboo trees being grown through my naked torso!. I am nearly sure that does not go on any more but it adds some dramatic affect to this rather mundane paragraph. It is rather hard to keep this free thinking view of a Tibet when every inch of historical cobbled streets are infested with massive camera toteing Beijingites willing to steam roll over any unfortunate soul who gets between him and his flag waving tour guide. Up to now I believed the middle aged french tour group to be the plague on all places of natural and historical beauty but it seemed the devil had another card to play on the unsuspecting traveller.
This town like the last (Dali) are indeed beautiful but they bring to mind that if you got lost between "Thunder Mountain" and "Sea World" you may stumble upon Walt Disney's impression of what Olde China looks like, though I dont think Mao had his wicked way on these towns during the cultural revolution, I am sure they are not in their original state, I have even been told that the women in the indiginous Naxi tribe dress who perform the traditional dances are actually actresses brought from cities to the east. How deliciously irreverent this country is.
Back to the basics of this voyage, though as before mentioned I was dubious to leave Kunming getting back on the bike quickly reinserted the joy of the road in to my soul. I camped my first night last night feasting on home made noodle soup surrounded by fledgeling fir trees and forrested slopes reaching up to the dizzy heights of 4000 metres, an aperitif of whats to come.
A recouperation day tomorow before passing through "Tiger leaping gorge" on the way to Zhongdian where my intrepid cycling companion Vince will have his first run in with the law as he pleads his case for a visa extension. My mind boggles with the thought of crossing check points at night, camping for 2 weeks straight during the monsoon and cycling passes of up to 5200 metres but right now I would not be happier sitting anywhere else in the world.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
This is just a recap photo of Vietnam, I stopped between villages to lube my chain. Within 5 minutes all these people just materialised from nowhere and stood around drinking from my water bottle and staring at the bewildering process of a westerner oiling his chain. I was going to start offering my autograph but noone seemed interested so I parted the crowd and headed on my way. It is not the best photo but it sums up how curious the Vietnamese were in a cycling Irishman.
Now I am safely installed in Kunming where everyone could not care less even if I was a flying Irishman. Annonimity is very much appreciated for a while, I was starting to get a bit of a rock star complex!
This is a fantastic city, where at 2000 metres the climate is continually spring like, hence the name "the spring city" and is surprisingly relaxed for a Chinese city of over 5,000,000. I have found a beautiful old park, where for an entrance fee of 10 cents you can drink all the green tea your bladder can handle. It is set around an ornate old pagoda, with lilly ponds with Koi carp swimming about, blossomed trees, flowers of all sorts and what I suppose to be bonsa trees, poplar trees and bamboo bushes but with my horticultural mind they could be anything. The best thing about this park are the people, practicing tai chi, martial arts and the many tables dotted about where the elderly enjoy their retirement by playing ma jong, cards and chinese chess. Having played a few games of chinese chess and not particularly liking (probably because I am rubbish) I stick to the western kind. Sitting under this pagoda on a wicker stool is how I have spent about 80% of my time here only leaving to feast on dumplings, dog or whatever else the roadside food stalls have to offer and at 40 cents for a meal I am considering taking early retirement here.
This retirement can not come in to practice untill the 10th of June, having to wait here until i meet a friend to carry on to Lhasa at that time with, I have found gainful employment by the Chinese Department of Commece, no honestly I have! There is a fair between the 5th and the 10th of June in Kunming to promote tourism in the area, and enthusiastic tourism graduates from Kunming universities are in great demand, oh and westerners, I at least tick one of these boxes so I am in. I have a meeting with some of the head honchos tonight at 8 which I have been reliably informed in true chinese style is a test of how much alchohol you can consume without passing out, finally a job interview a sink my teeth in to, maybe Chinese future domination of the world is not so bad after all! The best thing about this job is I will recieve a certificate at the end of it stating I have aided the Chinese government, now if that is not worth framing and sticking on the wall I dont know what is.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Vietnam
At last I have found a computer that will let me update my blog, unfortunately uploading a photo is still beyond it so no colourful pictures to attract the readers attention. I am updating this from the garage of a house in a village 60km from Son La in the North-Western corner of Vietnam. Internet cafes are everywhere in Vietnam but are so infuriatingly inept at accessing anything you want off the internet I usually leave them a very unsatisfied and slightly irrate customer. As a result of this I have alot of goings on to narrate to you my distinguished reader.
I was more then happy to leave Vientiene after 4 days of doing next to nothing, in fact that city has at most about half a days of activities to do in it, and applying for a Vietnam visa is included in that estimation. So I hit the road on that hazy Saturday morning with a determination to do some serious un-adulterated cycle touring(it sounds more rebellious in my head) and sitting here 12 days on and 1100km under my belt I can sleep easy knowing I have achieved what I set out to do.
The last 5 days in Laos continued the way they started, quite roads, smiling children, amazing scenery and lung busting climbs. I hate to be blazee about it as it was very enjoyable but there is really nothing much else to report.
After the inevitable border crossing beaurocracy and the officials unsuccessful attempts at getting a few dollars out of me Vietnam welcomed me with a most appreciated present........a windy 25km descent through rainforests all the way down to a gushing river lined by luminous green paddies. This scenery followed me till I found a bed to rest my weary legs, which after following 3 wrong directions I finally found. This first day in Vietnam was far from over, trying to find a place to eat in this small town a stumbled across a bar and decided to whet my whistle and sample some Vietnamese brew, which is very tasty. It was not long untill I was eating a feast with the owners family, while he continualy offered me one of his three daughters who were conservatively aged from 16 - 21, I politely declined. After stumbling back to my guest house, I tucked myself in to my bed only to be woken by a knock on my door, some army personelle wanted a quick word! Hastilly putting on some clothes and joining them for some green tea they inspected and copied every piece of writing on my passport, shook my hand and let me finally conclude my first day in Vietnam.
Deciding I wanted to see the sea one last time before Europe, a daunting year away I headed for the coast. Finding a nice isolated hotel somewhere north of Vinh in a small village on a particularly filthy stretch of the South China Sea I said my sad goodbyes to saline air. Heading down to the hotel restaurant for a bite to eat in the evening i found out the restaurant was closed and being 3km to the nearest one I reluctantly went for my bike. As luck would have it two very beautiful hotel employees were more then willing to take me out for a meal, so off I went sandwiched, a very delicious one I might add, between the two girls on the back of a motorbike, as we were departing a loud rumble was heard and the heavens opened. It will be a long lasting memory of flying along this country road, avoiding farmers frantically collecting their peanuts which they left drying on the side of the road, fork lightning lighting the sky around and getting thouroughly drenched, these are the reasons that one travels.
I am rambling on a little bit now and am getting more and more inarticulate as I go so to keep the high standards of this blog continuing i will try and finnish off. Though the above experiences were certainly memorable I think my favourite part of this country is the numerous times I have been invited by old men to drink green tea and smoke 2 foot long bamboo water pipes, they chatter away, smile at me every now and again, pour my tea fill my pipe as I sit there in a contented daze pondering how wonderful life is. The scenery in this country has been the best so far with the kasrt mountains thrown about amongst the contasting greens of rice paddies, tea plants, corn and sugar cane, but this does not compare to the hospitality of the people who in the majority take it upon themselves to welcome you warmly as a guest of their country.
Unfortunately I have to cut this Vietnamese leg of my journey short as lying on my bed this afternoon I luckily glanced at my Chinese visa and realised I have to enter the country in 3 days and being 400 mountainous kilometres away from the border I am praying that public transport services the back roads between here and there. So fingers crossed the next entry to this blog I will be safely in China.
I was more then happy to leave Vientiene after 4 days of doing next to nothing, in fact that city has at most about half a days of activities to do in it, and applying for a Vietnam visa is included in that estimation. So I hit the road on that hazy Saturday morning with a determination to do some serious un-adulterated cycle touring(it sounds more rebellious in my head) and sitting here 12 days on and 1100km under my belt I can sleep easy knowing I have achieved what I set out to do.
The last 5 days in Laos continued the way they started, quite roads, smiling children, amazing scenery and lung busting climbs. I hate to be blazee about it as it was very enjoyable but there is really nothing much else to report.
After the inevitable border crossing beaurocracy and the officials unsuccessful attempts at getting a few dollars out of me Vietnam welcomed me with a most appreciated present........a windy 25km descent through rainforests all the way down to a gushing river lined by luminous green paddies. This scenery followed me till I found a bed to rest my weary legs, which after following 3 wrong directions I finally found. This first day in Vietnam was far from over, trying to find a place to eat in this small town a stumbled across a bar and decided to whet my whistle and sample some Vietnamese brew, which is very tasty. It was not long untill I was eating a feast with the owners family, while he continualy offered me one of his three daughters who were conservatively aged from 16 - 21, I politely declined. After stumbling back to my guest house, I tucked myself in to my bed only to be woken by a knock on my door, some army personelle wanted a quick word! Hastilly putting on some clothes and joining them for some green tea they inspected and copied every piece of writing on my passport, shook my hand and let me finally conclude my first day in Vietnam.
Deciding I wanted to see the sea one last time before Europe, a daunting year away I headed for the coast. Finding a nice isolated hotel somewhere north of Vinh in a small village on a particularly filthy stretch of the South China Sea I said my sad goodbyes to saline air. Heading down to the hotel restaurant for a bite to eat in the evening i found out the restaurant was closed and being 3km to the nearest one I reluctantly went for my bike. As luck would have it two very beautiful hotel employees were more then willing to take me out for a meal, so off I went sandwiched, a very delicious one I might add, between the two girls on the back of a motorbike, as we were departing a loud rumble was heard and the heavens opened. It will be a long lasting memory of flying along this country road, avoiding farmers frantically collecting their peanuts which they left drying on the side of the road, fork lightning lighting the sky around and getting thouroughly drenched, these are the reasons that one travels.
I am rambling on a little bit now and am getting more and more inarticulate as I go so to keep the high standards of this blog continuing i will try and finnish off. Though the above experiences were certainly memorable I think my favourite part of this country is the numerous times I have been invited by old men to drink green tea and smoke 2 foot long bamboo water pipes, they chatter away, smile at me every now and again, pour my tea fill my pipe as I sit there in a contented daze pondering how wonderful life is. The scenery in this country has been the best so far with the kasrt mountains thrown about amongst the contasting greens of rice paddies, tea plants, corn and sugar cane, but this does not compare to the hospitality of the people who in the majority take it upon themselves to welcome you warmly as a guest of their country.
Unfortunately I have to cut this Vietnamese leg of my journey short as lying on my bed this afternoon I luckily glanced at my Chinese visa and realised I have to enter the country in 3 days and being 400 mountainous kilometres away from the border I am praying that public transport services the back roads between here and there. So fingers crossed the next entry to this blog I will be safely in China.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Hello to one and all from sunny Vientiene. Not much to report I am afraid I just really want to post this photo of some monks crossing the top of a waterfall up near Luang Prubang, I ended up talking to them about girls, money and what they are going to do when they finish their time in the temple. Not the most pious and deep conversation I have had with a monk on my trip but I suppose 16 year old boys are the same all around the world.
I have to hang around Vientiene untill my visa for Vietnam is processed then it is direct east for about 6 days untill I get to Vietnam and then direct north in to China, through the mountains of vietnam, I hear this is one of the best routes in South East Asia. From the boarder the route is up to Kunming by mid June and then start on the Yunnan Highway to Tibet. Yes as I am sure it is no surprise to people who know me, I have had another oh so common change of heart and am reverting to my proposd plan, so no turning soft with the idea of plane travel, it is me and my bike the whole way.........hurrah!
Just a quick ode to my bike. After over 1600km and only one puncture my bike showed its first sign of fatigue, at the beginning I waved it off as nothing but a mere superficial wound, nothing a little spin wouldnt fix, but given a closer inspection on the morning before the my last leg I believed it to be something far more serious, maybe serious enough to have to amputate the rear hub, a suspected broken bearing. But surely not I thought, not in such a sprightly young bike, such ailments only happen to old, tired bikes? After easing her gently over the last 100kms in to town, I quickly sought out a much esteemed French cycle doctor renowned amongst the asian cycle community , he quickly assured me it was not serious, removed the sprocket, tightened some nuts and after applying some ointment to help her move more easily she was mine to discharge and take her home, as good as new. Now compared to most of the bikes people are touring on my bike looks quite old style, skinny and weak and does not look like it could handle any particularly rough roads or adventures, granted the true test is yet to come in China and beyond, but I believe she can do it. So after much deliberation I hereby call my bike "Rocacante" after the greatly underestimated steed of Don Quixote, I believe this calls for the 2nd hurrah of the post.........Hurrah!
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Spectacular is the only way to describe the road from Luang Prabang to Viang Vieng, I really dont think cycle touring can get much better then this. 230km of perfectly sealed roads, three 1600 metre passes, 2700 metre of vertical ascent and descent all of which are very gradual so as not to work the legs or the breaks overly. Thankfully rainy season is on the way so mainly overcased conditions certainly help on 20km climbs.
The scenery was breathtaking with the karst mountains and cliffs shooting jaggadly up all around with dense jungle and villages clinging to the side, I have much better photos to demonstrate this but this being the only photo with me in it vanity got the better of me. The difference in wealth between here and Thailand was evident in Luang Prabang but once you left that tourist mecha it really hits you, the villages are mostly made of bamboo and leaves perched on the side of mountains with smiley mostly naked, filthy children running up to you shouting greetings, waving like maniacs and offering high 5's. No matter how tired you are, passing these villages never fails to plaster a smile from ear to ear on your face, that smile turns to a rather serious expression when passing one of the many army/guerilla pesonelle(it is had to tell which is which) strolling about with a kalashnikov round his shoulder, there being some trouble of late with tourists on this road so I usually bade them a cordial greeting dropped a gear and off I went as fast as my noodle legs could take me.
So safe and sound in Viang Vieng it is time for a day off before facing the 2ookm to Vientienne. Long live cycle touring!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Day 27 - 31 - 126km
After a perfect two day cycle from Chiang Rai to Chang Saen and then to Chang Khong along the hilly roads hugging the shores of the Mekong. There is nothing quite like cycling in the morning mists sweeping from the Mekong and being serenaded by the gibbons in the surrouding jungle, it makes you feel very far away from the N11. These were my last few kilometres in Thailand and though I would not like to say my best they certainly reminded me of how much I enjoyed the past 5 weeks touring through this beautiful country.
After a night in Chang Khong I took a boat across the river and in doing so entered in to Laos. From here I decided to take the "slow boat" down the Mekong to the world heritage town of Luang Probang. Throwing my bike on the roof of the river barge and paying an extortionate amount for this privilage I embarked upon the two day and 15 hour journey down the Mekong. This, as I had hoped, was a stunning journey through gorges, jungle lined mountains and small fishing villages, by the time I arrived in Luang Probang yesterday evening I was quite sad to be saying goodbye to that leg of my journey. That feeling was soon overshadowed by the beauty of this very touristic town, decaying 19th century French architecture splashed with a large amount of intricately detailed golden temples and wats and all lined by tall palm trees, quite unlike anything I have ever seen.
This morning from the vantage of a golden temple on a hill, I watched the rising sun peel its way slowly over the surrounding jungled mountains and clear the valleys bellow of their shroud of mist. After strolling through the bustling morning market and munching on some succulent ripe mango I breakfasted on noodle soup (which unbelievably is better then in Thailand), baguette and wonderfully thick, strong local coffee. Why yes I thought to myself, it is very good to be in Laos.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Change of Plan
After huffing and puffing, humming and hawing, deciding and redeciding I have finally come to the conclusion that me, my bike and the climate are not fit for my proposed route.
Due to monsoon season starting in a couple of weeks the roads from Kunming to Lhasa are subject to close for weeks at a time due to landslides. If for some by some chance I get to Lhasa unscathed the friendship highway between Lhasa and Kathmandu again due to too much water is not pasable untill late September, with my visa finshing at 20th August and extensions hard to get its another spanner in the works.
I am nearly sure my bike would have trouble as I have been informed by other tourers that you need a mountain bike for the friendship highway and the amount of new gear I would need to buy for the climate would not be cheap.
Although these are all viable excuses, excuses are what they are and with a bit of grit and determination I am sure I could overcome them, but I dont feel confident sneaking passed police in the dead of night to get in to closed areas of China and to deal with the factors above mentioned.
So my new route will bring me across to Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, and then back to Bangkok where at the end of August I will fly to Kathmandu and then continue with my proposed route. I should change the name of the blogpage to wills odd way round.
Due to monsoon season starting in a couple of weeks the roads from Kunming to Lhasa are subject to close for weeks at a time due to landslides. If for some by some chance I get to Lhasa unscathed the friendship highway between Lhasa and Kathmandu again due to too much water is not pasable untill late September, with my visa finshing at 20th August and extensions hard to get its another spanner in the works.
I am nearly sure my bike would have trouble as I have been informed by other tourers that you need a mountain bike for the friendship highway and the amount of new gear I would need to buy for the climate would not be cheap.
Although these are all viable excuses, excuses are what they are and with a bit of grit and determination I am sure I could overcome them, but I dont feel confident sneaking passed police in the dead of night to get in to closed areas of China and to deal with the factors above mentioned.
So my new route will bring me across to Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, and then back to Bangkok where at the end of August I will fly to Kathmandu and then continue with my proposed route. I should change the name of the blogpage to wills odd way round.
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