My body is used to the heat of the desert. At 3500m there is not much desert heat left. My attempt at making lots of kilometres today was foiled by a flat tyre and lack of motivation to cycle into the cold without a destination with a roof over my head known. 94km it is.
Wrapped up bike inspection
I had a welcome surprise cycling into a little village. Paro and Dwayn were there waving. They had seen me from the bus and had got out to see me.
Me, Paro and Dwayn
The high plains
The bats were late. They were meant to start at 5:20.
‘Maybe it’s the first sign of the apocalypse,’ said Mark, the Scot, next to me.
Then it started. They poured out of the hole in the mountain like water pouring over a waterfull. A constant stream accompanied by the high-pitched squeal. The bats of Battambang.
The bats of Battambang. The stream lasted an hour.
‘Can we meet up a day earlier?’ I asked my Dutch cycling friend Bernadatte who is currently in the outer suburbs of Bangkok. ‘I’m ahead of schedule.’
She couldn’t, and sent me a list of things to do in Battambang. One by one I ticked them off – a ride on a bamboo train (a bamboo platform on two dismountable axles, run by a lawnmower engine), a temple, a ‘killing cave’ from the Pol Pot era, and a bat cave.
The bamboo train
Me and Mark (the Scot)
Phnom Banan
The Khmer Rouge killed about 30% of the Cambodian population. It was a dreadful part of this country’s history.
The killing cave
View over the Cambodian plains
Siem Reap was an oasis of luxury on my trip. Cakes, oil massages and temples abound. After 5 days there, I left for the distant (by road) Battambang on the straight, flat and boring main road. I left at dawn, and arrived shortly before dusk. In between I cycled, cycled and cycled.
The flat road
Mark had been in Siem Reap for 3 or 4 days already, frantically sending me luscious photos of the cakes he has been eating. Just after I arrived, a whole battalion of his friends from Hong Kong arrived for the half marathon, and together we explored Siem Reap, Angkor Wat and the Tonle Sap lake.
Tonle Sap lake
Tonle Sap lake
Lynda and I on the Tonle Sap lake
Angkor Wat
Bayan Temple
Ta Prohm temple
Siem Reap offers services to dream of. Just imagine – free WiFi while having a massage. The pinnacle of customer service!
WiFi and massage
After not having run for 8 months, I ran in the Angkor Wat half-marathon. I discovered running muscles are different to cycling ones. I could hardly move the next day. ☺
The Angkor Wat half-marathon
The Angkor Wat half-marathon
Angkor Wat
The two young monks in front of us stood then dropped to their knees, then rose again. One was fast, the other (the one we saw yawning) was slower. The fast one was relieved from this praying duty by the head monk. The slower one continued. At six o’ clock in the morning, I am not surprised he was yawning.
The high plains
My new friends Paro and Dwayn and I braved the early-morning rain to watch the monks. Then we had a nice breakfast of eggs, porridge and more. I don’t know what the monks ate. By eleven o’ clock I could procrastinate no longer, and I headed out into the drizzle.
Dwayn, Paro and me.
‘Is the road flat?’ I ask the hotel manager who knows the region well. ‘Yes.’ Well, I discovered over again, what looks flat from a car is not necessarily flat. I was climbing or falling most of the day, but on excellent roads with little wind or a tailwind. My highest point was 3500m. My endpoint is 3100m. The scenery was grey and drab. I bet it looks stunning in the sun, but, with this weather, its head down and onwards. I will continue to take main roads until the weather improves. There are places to stay on the main roads, and bad-weather cycling is best on good roads.
Time for a break and time for a new video. This stretch – a kilometre rich stretch – was dry, hot and windy. It was a lot of fun! I hope you enjoy the video. 🙂
They continue coming. Up the dirt path as I head down. Monks in red gowns. Old men and women in their simple clothes, propped by walking sticks. Wizened faces and old gowns. They have come a long way to walk this path, walk along the prayer wheel wall, and spin the wheels, symbolizing countless repetitions of prayers. The Labrang monastery.
Prayer wheels
Prayer wheels
The road continued, past the factories and the holiday yurt colonies. The guesthouses are perched directly opposite the monastery – on the road with its constant symphony of the honking of horns. Directly behind the pilgrims spin the prayer wheels. Pilgrims that have not been swept up in the materialistic tsunami, they seem from a different existence. In moments of quiet, they can hear the groaning of the wheels as their heavy weight rotates inside the prayer-hut. Then a cacophony of horns shatters the pathos. Angry and impatient drivers press to move forward. ‘I am here. I’m in a hurry. I am more important. Let me through!’ And one is returned to the ‘real’ world.
Labrang Monastery
Today I passed 18000km. Tomorrow I rest.
18000km
It was grey and the road climbed slowly. I am ready for my planned rest in Xiahe – a break from cycling and the endless honking of horns.
My camp spot
Busy town
I am in the mountains. The signs also have Tibetan script. I was surprised to see similarities with the Hindi Sanskrit script. I hadn’t noticed that before.
Today was a day of tunnels (forbidden for cyclists), of a new bike pump (given to me for free from the lovely people at the Giant shop in Linxia) and my first super-cheap hotel found all by my little self – 3USD.
The Giant bike shop in Linxia
Fully loaded
I have mountains from close-up. I have lakes. I have (very) steep roads. I have tunnels. I have the Yellow River. I’m away from the cycling to eat the kilometres. From here the road goes up – on to the Tibetan Plateau.
A small mountain road at last
It was time for another good-bye – this time with Wendy. She gave me a postcard with all the vocab (and Chinese characters) I need on my trip forward. All the ways of saying hotel or room as well as restaurant and ice-cream.
Farewell to Wendy
Today was all about the Yellow River. I saw it brown. I saw it blue. I left it’s valley twice on very steep roads, only to return later. I also saw the Yellow River as a lake, and cycled along the brand new road skirting its shores, complete with some massive tunnels. The road is so new, there are no villages, and so nowhere to stay or eat. Time to roll out the tent.. ☺
The Yellow River
The Yellow River
The Yellow River Lake
The main road with lots of trucks. There was a climb over a pass of 3000m, but I didn’t feel immersed in the nature. The Tibetan Plateau is approaching – there was a village with Tibetan script – but I’m not there yet.
Tibetan script
‘This is the Silk Road’ said one of the Chinese cyclists that we met on the way. I have been on the Silk Road since Turkey, although this corridor through northern China is the climax. It is now a corridor with big freeways and roads and fairly bland villages. We are now less than 100km from Lanzhou – the capital of Gansu province. I intend to avoid it. Wendy will be going through to Langzhou tomorrow to catch her train. Our paths will diverge then.
They stood at the freeway exit with their SLR camera taking photos of us. Only this time, it as the police who had instructed us to leave the freeway. I was holding my breath.
Fixing the flat tyre
They drove right past Wendy and told me to leave the freeway. She thought we could just continue on until she realised they meant business waiting for us at the freeway exit with their lights flashing. I acted dumb (not difficult) and let Wendy do the talking. I felt like their tone was different to me, the Weiguoren (foreigner). To Wendy, they acted like her (and our) guardian angel. There is no place ahead to sleep for many kilometres so you should leave the freeway here. Acting all innocent and grateful, we left the freeway. They now have some great snaps of the Weiguoren and the Zhongguoren (Chinese person).
I have some great snaps of the mass of people that looked over my shoulder while I was looking at Facebook on my phone. Every time I lacked my privacy, the camera went on. I might have irritated some of them. Damn. ☺ Actually, it all became a bit of a joke, and I took photos of the whole village looking over my shoulder.
Looking at Facebook over my shoulder
The morning was spent in Wuwei fixing my Chinese mobile internet, getting some money and finding a bike shop to fix Wendy’s brakes. We both felt a bit stupid when the person at the bike shop fixed the problem in 10 seconds in front of our eyes. A brake cable had come out of its holder and needed to be put back in.
My flat tyre later in the day took about 30 minutes to fix. I was amazed to learn that Wendy did not have anything to fix a flat tyre, and had not had one. She watched on in interest as I fixed the problem. It is kind of weird to think that I was being looked on as the technical expert (!).
Our evening ride turned a bit problematic when we realised we had misread distances and altitudes and it got dark a long way from anywhere. Luckily, the cluster of shops called Shibalipu (= 9km shop in Chinese) popped up. It has a little hotel. It is not 9km from anywhere I know of..
arctic-cycler.com 