Archive for the ‘Cycling’ Category

Day 177. 54km. Near Kazakhstan Border – Kegen

Posted: November 5, 2015 in Cycling, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan
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The border wasn’t as near as I thought, and once I crossed it, the rain, which had abated briefly, really set in. With a wet tent, and no hotels in sight after Kegen, I stopped at about 13:30 for lunch, and stayed for the night.

Tenge

Tenge

This is a remote part of the world. The only road is rocky, and bumpy. I saw one shop in about 50km of cycling. I saw lots of yurts. Lots of bee-keepers. Lots of wide open spaces.

Rocky descent

Rocky descent

Shop
Road to the border

Road to the border

I also met two other travellers – a French motorcyclist and a French cyclist – both coming from Kazakhstan. They gave me tips for the road ahead. I had no idea of what this part of Kazakhstan has to offer – it was just something between Kyrgyzstan and China. Let’s see now what I can find here.

Day 248. 146km. Lak Ha Sip – Luang Prabang

Posted: November 4, 2015 in Cycling, Laos
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I wasn’t expecting it, but, today turned into a head-down and burn the kilometre day. Cycling along the ‘Sabai dee’ valley of little kids waving in excitement, we made it to the beautiful jewel of Laos – Luang Prabang.

River

River

With Luang Prabang 140km away, and with the limited daylight hours, and evening spent on the way seemed inevitable. After an early start, and a quick 1000m descent along improved roads, we started out eating the kilometres to our distant goal. The mountains got pointier, and we hit the languid river that would follow us into Luang Prabang. Beautiful.

The river

The river

River

River

Day 176. 63km. Karakol – Near Kazakhstan Border

Posted: November 3, 2015 in Cycling, Kyrgyzstan
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Karakol meant late nights for me, and people that speak my language (so interesting conversations). Late nights meant a late start today, and a stress-free amble towards the Kazakhstan border.

The steep climb

The steep climb

I soon realised I would not make it before 18:00 when the border closes, so I took my time, and was able choose a camp for the last time in Krygyzstan high horse and yurt country. I had my last Kyrgyz yurt invitation, where I was given fresh milk, bread and honey, and my last view out over Kyrgyzstan.

View from my campsite

View from my campsite

Day 247. 53km. Oudomxay – Lak Ha Sip

Posted: November 3, 2015 in Cycling, Laos
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Hit by a truck. Torrential downpour. Muddy road. Result: we didn’t make it over the two passes we wanted to today, but rather to a lovely new hotel/restaurant at the top of a pass. Very pleasant!

Sunset at the top of the pass

Sunset at the top of the pass

BANG! The whole bike bolted forward, almost hitting the cement water barrier. The truck behind me stopped, and the driver got out. He was very apologetic. We looked at the bike, and, amazingly, nothing seemed to be damaged at all. The wheel was straight, no spokes broken. He hit me directly from behind, and I just bounced off him like a ball.

The other excitement today was the amazing downpour. The heavens opened and it bucketed down. I went under a small bamboo motorbike shelter, and felt bad when Mark couldn’t fit and insisted on continuing in the pouring rain. It continued to teem down for an hour as I huddled under my tiny shelter, getting quite cold. Mark sheltered a few kilometres further along under a shelter for fruit sellers.

Mark in a village

Mark in a village

Day 246. 53km. Na Mor – Oudomxai

Posted: November 2, 2015 in Cycling, Laos
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The positions of the passes are dictating our itinerary. Today was a short day to the bottom of the big double pass tomorrow. Time for Mark to pull out the Polaroid and take photos of the kids. Lots of excitement was had by all.

Mark with the polaroid at the kids

Mark with the polaroid at the kids

The passes seem short when you’re deep in conversation about anything and everything. It is good catching up with Mark, and being able to converse at full bandwidth with no language barrier. With Bangladesh looking quite dangerous these days, my forward plans are being reshaped. Borneo (side trip) – here I come!

Rice fields

Rice fields

Day 175. 0km. Karakol

Posted: November 1, 2015 in Cycling, Kyrgyzstan
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“Chu, chu, chu!” This horse-speak for ‘go’. My horse wasn’t going anywhere, and the horseman guide indicated that I should hit the horse even harder with the stick he had given me. Finally we ambled along, up the valley, walled with stunning red rock faces, all the way to the hot-springs. A relaxing day off in Karakol.

Up the valley

Up the valley

The red valley

The red valley

Up the valley

Up the valley

Trying to go fast

Trying to go fast

Day 245. 69km. Luang Namtha – Na Mor

Posted: November 1, 2015 in Cycling, Laos
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The closer to real-time posts will start, now that I am in Laos, and have left China. The daily posts through China will continue until January until I reach Luang Namtha. 🙂

It’s been nearly 8000km since Mark and I cycled together in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. We are now back together in Laos, while Will and Kim – the other 4 of our central Asian party – are together in Bishkek. The tropical rolling hills of Laos are a stark contrast to the dusty, windswept high altitude plains of Tajikistan. Also, in Tajikistan, we couldn’t pig out on unrecognizable tropical fruit and delicious smoothies. Laos!

21000km

21000km

I passed my 21000km at the top of a little climb. Tomorrow is a short day over a pass, and sleeping at the bottom of the next pass.

Day 174. 92km. Tosor – Karakol

Posted: October 30, 2015 in Cycling, Kyrgyzstan
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Summary of today? Well, I made it alive, for which I am grateful. I have a lovely soft bed to sleep in, for which I am grateful. I had a cool night out on the town, inclusive dancing and music. And I am in Karakol. I have seen the YouTube clip ‘The Road from Karakol’ so many hundred of times. And now I am here – and really am stoked.

Entrance to Karakol

Entrance to Karakol

It is a shame that I have only seen the magic stretch of Issykul shoreline in the grey rain. I can imagine that the sandy beaches would be dazzling, and clear water might look blue with a bit of sun.

Issykul

Issykul

The last 30km into Karakol was dangerous – such maniac drivers.
I cycle concentrated.
My eyes are fixed to the road. When can I give the next pedal-stroke? Can I accelerate, or bump over the next pothole or mound of bitumen?
My ears are pricked. I hear a car. From in front? Behind? How far? What speed? What is the driver’s asshole factor (volume of motor and tyre noise)? I hear a horn. This means I am to steer straight for the soft sand on the side of the road. A horn means ‘I am coming through, and running over everything in my path.’ A horn is used in one of three circumstances:
1. I am approaching you (the cyclist) from behind, and another car is overtaking me. There is not enough space for everyone, so, you should head into the sand.
2. A car is coming from the opposite direction. There is not enough space for everyone, so you should head into the sand.
3. I am a complete wanker, and, even though there is no other car within hundreds of metres, I hate cyclists in general, and so you should head into the sand.
I made it to Karakol. Several people I have cycled with have been hit in Kyrgyzstan. I can see why.

While cycling through the undulating landscape, the mind wanders, and ponders some weird things. I have a question for readers of my blog. Can you explain the following? When the road leaves the lake shore, it undulates over the plains leading from the mountains to the lake. Crossing these plains, the road passes over little streams and rivers running from the mountains to the lake. Over and over again, I find myself climbing to the top of an undulation, crossing a stream, and then descending again. Why, oh why, are the streams running along the top of the undulations, and not the bottom?
Well, there. That is what keeps my mind occupied on these long trips. ☺

Day 173. 103km. Kara Talaa – Tosor

Posted: October 28, 2015 in Cycling, Kyrgyzstan
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I am lying in the tent, again on the Issykul lake shore. I am listening to the crashing of the waves just metres away, and the patter of rain on the tent. Today was grey with the odd drop of rain, and the standard afternoon headwind. It kept the swimmers away – and so I could bathe alone in the clear waters of the lake.

Sandy beach

Sandy beach

When the road nears the lake, there are little dirt tracks that head to the shore. Sometimes populated with a car, today they were often empty. It was too grey for some. Today, the road also left the lake, and climbed over 300m – not something you expect on the lake shore. Still, I also got some downhill speed.

Cooking at Issykul

Cooking at Issykul

Update 23:00
I didn’t expect this. The noise is incredible as the tent is being ballooned in gusts by the wind. Lying stretched out in my tent, my left arm is anchoring the front right hand corner of the tent, and my right arm is vertical, holding the central arch. The wind is howling and the rain is pounding down. I can’t turn or move, lest the tent implode in a gust, sacrificing my little spot of dry earth. I can’t hear the thunder for the rain, but see the flickering light outside the tent. Repeatedly.

Day 172. 98km. Kzyl Choo – Kara Talaa

Posted: October 26, 2015 in Cycling, Kyrgyzstan
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My tent is set up at the end of a sandy road, metres from the water lapping the shore of Issy Kul lake. The sun has just set, and I see the silhouette of the mountains behind the opposite shore of the lake slowly fading to grey. Today is the day of the lake.

Sun bathing on Issykul

Sun bathing on Issykul

Today has been a repeat of my trip to the lake with public transport. I saw the familiar town of Balychy, and even saw my train arrive.

The train to Issykul

The train to Issykul

I went for a swim behind the old soviet sign that we also saw earlier. I ran into a group of kids that cycled around the lake last year to raise money for the poor in Kyrgyzstan. This year they were playing football.

Soviet monument

Soviet monument

The group of footballers/cyclists

The group of footballers/cyclists

It was hard to get away from the masses to camp. I investigated the whole little sandy peninsula, including the massive pile of cars and swimmers near the yurts, before deciding on (what I thought) was a remote, secluded place. Unfortunately some more campers arrived and have just started their loud music. Oh well..

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