Today we cycled on a long, straight, flat road. Our goal was 145km distant Preah Vihear. We left at dawn and arrived in the late afternoon after moving quite quickly through the kilometres in the bright light and heat. Reward was 2 smoothies and 2 mixed fruits with coconut ice. Nothing else to report.
Davide and I eating lots of fruity deserts
To escape the wind. Today I changed my route, leaving the freeway to what I suspected was a road through farmland with the accompanying wind protection. My mind was focussing on how to avoid the wind. And I have it – tomorrow I will be cycling at night! Night rider!
The long road
The road south to Yumen town looked on the map like it was through farmland (any roads on the map leaving the freeway with occasional side roads are usually farmland). Well, it climbed 500m across a desert plain to a ridge with a massive oil refinery. I was happy though – with almost no wind in the morning, I rocketed up the 500m, and had that altitude to ‘spend’ cycling down against the wind to Jiayuguan. No farmland though.
Police
I passed the 17000km mark from Eindhoven.
17000km
A rest day is planned visiting the Great Wall and then I’m turning nocturnal!
Happy dolphins, wobbly boats, bike washes in the middle of the 200m-wide river and rejoining with an old cycling companion – Davide. Not much cycling, though..
Bike cleaning
Dolphin viewing was on the menu today – in the early morning before it got too hot. After travelling for about 30 minutes, we reached a broad, calm spot in the Mekong. And there they were, blowing out air, diving majestically – circling the boat at about 100m. I counted five, playing with us – always faster than us as we rotated the boat to see them.
Coming back from seeing the dolphins
I returned to the boat place on the opposite side of the island. There was no apparent activity. I asked some locals when the boat was leaving, pointing to the other side of the river.
‘No.’
Well, that was clear.
‘When? How long? How many hours?’ I ran it through Google translate.
I got a stream of Khmer language.
‘How many minutes?’
Laughter.
The guy wrote down what he was saying – in Khmer script.
‘One o’clock?’
No – I gathered from their Khmer.
‘Tomorrow?’
No.
Finally, the woman there pointed to a little rickety old boat and went down with her 15 year-old and 5 year-old sons. After almost capsizing when putting the bike on the boat, we made it across, for which I am grateful.. ☺ Thanks to the lovely Cambodians who helped me out!
My humble mode of transport across the Mekong
After some contact on Facebook, I realized that Davide was in town. We had cycled together in Iran, and met up briefly in Luang Prabang. We’ll cycle together to Siem Reap. While sitting on the banks of the Sekong River, we saw a curious site. A parade of motorbikes riding into the middle of the river for a clean. Time to do the same.. ☺
Motorbike wash
There are spots of green in this desert. Trees, Corn and sunflower crops. And protection from the wind. Then the desert continues and the wind hits like a wall. With a small side component to the gale-force headwind, my non-aerodynamic luggage slams on the brakes. OK. OK. 7km/h it is.
Wind in the grass
I have read about cyclists who have taken busses to cross this vast desert. I have read how dejecting it is to get nowhere slowly with the terrible winds, and how they step onto the bus. I have always wanted to cycle all the way to Australia, without busses or other forms of transport (except when water makes cycling impossible). I can understand this dejection.
The weather forecast is for the same as far forward as it goes. Gentler winds (about 17km/h headwind) are in the morning. Stronger headwinds (30km/h+) are in the afternoons. There are still hundreds of kilometres to go. Cycling into the wind is not like normal cycling where you pedal, and have regular pauses from pedalling as you just roll along. With this wind, the moment I stop pedalling, the wheels stop turning and I have to step off the bike. It is a mind game. I still intend to cycle tomorrow. Let’s see if and when the bus beckons.
Exhausted after another windy day
‘You come and sleep at my house.’
He had returned now for the second time. The rest he said was in Khmer which I didn’t understand. I was staying at the official ‘homestay’ on the island. He looked quite insistent.
‘What did he want?’ I asked my host after he left.
‘Oh. He’s crazy,’ she replied simply.
The beautiful road to Koh Preah
It was a lovely cycle next to the Mekong and on a boat across to the palm-lined island. I arrived by 11, and realised that I quickly get restless. On the tropical paradise island, I went for a swim next to the water buffalo. I listened to a podcast in the hammock and then slept. I walked up and down the island village, waving ‘hello’ to all the ecstatic kids. I had dinner, not with the host family, unfortunately. I was showered with gifts of a block of rock salt and a shell from Mr Crazy. I realized I had exhausted the island’s activities for a non-local who doesn’t speak a word of Khmer. A nice little break, but time to return to cycling.. ☺
Before the river crossing
Drahtesel (my bike) is ready and waiting
There are not enough hours of light and I am not strong enough to clock-up 100km with a wind like this. Sometimes I just stop. In the middle of the desert. In the sun. And just drop my head over my arms on the handlebars. This wind is relentless and, at this speed, the desert is infinite.
Strong wind
Sometimes I take the freeway. Sometimes I take the parallel road. I change between the two (often acrobatically due to the fence that follows the freeway) when there is a shop of some kind. It means a well-earned break from the wind. Sometimes I duck into a water drainage passage under the freeway. The wind is also less there.
With a wind like this, I don’t really notice the surroundings – a lot of glare and a lot of sand. I focus on some podcasts I have downloaded, and stay inside my mental cocoon.
Dry desert
My goal of Yumen was just too far. Off my planned route was the town of Shulehe – and from where I was, it was perpendicular to the wind. That’s where I wanted to go! The road had lots of trees blocking the side wind, and it was magic easily passing 10 km/h, and even hitting 20! Straight to the expensive tourist hotel. Tonight, I deserve it!
Sunflower drying
‘That will be $2.’
‘Can I have a receipt please?’
‘You can have the stamp for $1.’
‘Can I have a receipt please?’
‘OK. You can go.’
Border crossing in Laos.
My first glimpse of Khmer script on this trip
I have left my favourite place in Laos – Don Det. It just exudes ‘chill’ and I love it. On my day off I explored the islands of Don Det and Don Khon, ate, and hung out with a group of Belgians, and also with a German and Australian (from my home town Adelaide).
Little path on Don Khon
Sunset on Don Det
Kids playing at sunset, Don Det
Today I visited the largest waterfall in Asia (by volume), bribed my way through the Laos/Cambodia border crossing famous for its corruption, and sped along an often dusty road to the Cambodian Mekong town of Stung Treng (passing 23000km on the way).
Phapheng waterfall
My lovely frangipani
23000km
The dusty road
Crossing the bridge to Stung Theng
Tomorrow a change of plan. A detour to a secret homestay on a secret island in the Mekong. The marketing people haven’t done a good job at spreading the word. I’m very excited about it.
For the record: Bribery and crossing from Laos into Cambodia.
– Laos exit stamp. They wanted $2, but on insisting I get a receipt, I got the stamp for free.
– Medical check. I was tested for malaria by having a little machine pointed in the vague direction of my head, and waiting for it to beep. I don’t have malaria, and was able to reduce the bribe amount from $2 down to $1 by smiling and acting stupid (not too hard for me).. ☺
– Cambodia visa. I paid $35 (it should have been $30). No receipt was possible, and no discussion was possible. It costs $2 more if you don’t have a passport photo. No further bribe for the entrance stamp.
‘Mei you.’
There is a chatter of ‘weiguoren’ (foreigner). No hotel room for foreigners. Only the (4 star) official foreigner hotels are ok. After an hour of looking, I left Guazhou and off into the windy desert to camp.
The wind blowing the Chinese flag
It was slim pickings along the road regarding food. Not the restaurant every 10km I was used to. I left with enough water, ate some snacks on the way, and stopped at multiple melon stands to eat a melon or two. More than that was not on offer. Big town Guazhou was the first restaurant, and a multitude of hotels. Having travelled with Achun (who officially also needs to stay in foreigner hotels, being from Hong Kong) I was ready for an early evening and a long rest before the long slog into the desert. It was not to be.
The long desert road
After a further slog into the wind, I find myself in a dry creek bed near a little oasis village, only accessible from the road parallel to the freeway. I don’t think they get many people outside of the village here.. ☺
I lie windbattered and a bit confused in a tin shack at a parking spot on the freeway between Dunhuang and Guazhou. I am safe, and alone inside, listening to the wind howling outside. The headwind was dramatic as Achun and I crawled forward through the sheets of sand and dust to the first sign of life since leaving Dunhuang. And then Achun said that he was leaving, and didn’t want to cycle with me.
A windy melon stand
I am at a loss, and sad that Achun has left. I don’t understand why. He was a bit distressed yesterday evening when I really couldn’t eat what I had taken at the all-you-can-eat buffet. A ‘food-wastage’ fine hung over my head, but my western stomach couldn’t eat what I had foolishly taken. Was it my irritation when fixing a flat tyre just after we were about to leave this morning? I may never know. Anyway, I’m cycling alone again..
We stayed for 2 days in Dunhuang, resting and visiting the famous sand dunes. And they are huge! They rise hundreds of metres above the town – just the right thing for me. I’ve always loved running up and down sandhills.
The vast sandy expanse
The top of the sandhill
On the way up
Before us the road was infinite, to all sides the desert was vast. Grey pebbles and sand, the odd tiny scrubby bush. Grey below the horizon, blue above, and a scorching white sun burning us from the heavens.
The dusty road
Huang left before us when there was no obvious sign of movement from Achun’s tent. Several hours later Achun and I departed, and made our way along this often sandy, bumpy road, plied by massive road-work trucks. Away from the road-works, the desert was all encompassing. I love this barren landscape – this piece of parched earth – void of people. Just us, the sun, the earth, and the heat.
The dusty road
The dusty road
Arrival in Dunhuang – quite high on the Chinese tourist-Mecca list, was a jolt back to reality. Crowds of people perusing over souvenirs of polished rocks, bangles and bracelets, cards and t-shirts. A whole street of touristy restaurants at inflated prices. Dusty, sweaty (and probably smelly), we joined the masses, oozing past people as we slowly crept forward. We realised that we both don’t like this.
‘Food! Food! Sit down!’
A menu was thrust in our faces.
Whisk us away. Take us to a place where the wind, the sun and the clouds are our only companions. To a place where we are part of nature – not just observing it, consuming it, with thousands of others in a protective bubble of civilization. Take us away.
Bubble tea
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