Posts Tagged ‘Cycling’


‘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

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

Before the river crossing

Drahtesel (my bike) is ready and waiting

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

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

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

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

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

Little path on Don Khon

Sunset on Don Det

Sunset on Don Det

Kids playing at sunset, 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

Phapheng waterfall

My lovely frangipani

My lovely frangipani

23000km

23000km

The dusty road

The dusty road

Crossing the bridge to Stung Theng

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

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

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

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 vast sandy expanse

The top of the sandhill

The top of the sandhill

On the way up

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

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

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

Bubble tea


This place is chilled. The boat took me and my bike across the wide expanse of still water and green tropical islands to a place where time flows slower – it loses meaning. The reggae beat, the cool breeze of the fan, the hammock, the heat, the river. Don Det island.

Arrival on Don Det island

Arrival on Don Det island

Fate brought me here. It wasn’t my original plan. On this trip I have learned to go with the flow, and the flow brings you to the coolest of places and experiences. This hippy, twenty-something hangout is about going with the flow. Here I can practice not sticking to strict timetables and burning kilometres. My body needs it.

From Vientiane I was going to cycle directly to Bangkok before embarking on my Bangladesh/India/Burma side trip. With unrest in Bangladesh and mandatory noisy police escorts for cyclists, I cancelled that. I rejoined with Mark who was cycling down the length of Laos and then to Siem Reap in Cambodia. Why not join him? So now I find myself in the 4000 islands in the Mekong River on the Laos/Cambodia border. Unfortunately I am now without Mark, who is still recovering from Dengue fever.

I left before sunrise this morning to avoid the heat, and enjoyed the empty road. There were few villages and few people. There was some farming, but more wooded plains. It feels I have left the populated part of Laos, on the road to the border. There is only the backpacker chill hangout left before the Mekong slides over the border into Cambodia.

Cycling in the morning light

Cycling in the morning light

Cycling in the morning light

Cycling in the morning light

The boat to Don Det

The boat to Don Det

The bridge from Don Det to Don Khon

The bridge from Don Det to Don Khon


Bickle up people. I’ve entered Gansu with English on the signs. I’m looking forward to the statae class an xi extremely – I’m not sure if I’d recognise it if I saw it though. In the mean time, I drank a lot of ice tea in the ice zone and watched out for the traffic in the harmonious society. Chinglish at its best.

Extremely

Extremely

Welcome to Gansu

Welcome to Gansu

Smooth Communication

Smooth Communication

The Ice Zone

The Ice Zone

Harmonious Society

We set of after the other cyclist Huang today, who was waiting at the hotel reception long before we had even thought about breakfast. With his eyes set of the 220km distant Duanghuan, we thought we would not see him again.

A flat tyre broke up the everyday existence of cycling along the main road through the desert, stopping every 30km or so at the parking area shops.

Puncture

Puncture

All this cycling had brought Achun and I closer and closer to a first possible split in our paths. Dunhuang. A beautiful town, set in the desert, with massive sand dunes as a backdrop. A tourist mecca. And about 130km off our way. I was undecided on whether or not to go there. Achun was undecided. Both wanted to continue parallel to the freeway in Gansu afterwards for a few hundred more kilometres. Both also wanted to continue cycling together. I feel a real rapport with Achun.
It was approaching evening when we reached the turnoff to Dunghuan – a gravel road that stayed that way the whole 130km to Dunghuan. We were still undecided. And then Huang appeared. It became clear we had a companion no matter what our decision was. As the sun sunk lower in the sky, the three of us set off along the dirt road into the desert to set up camp in a beautiful place in the desert lunar landscape.

Sunset

Sunset


The crowds were flocking to Wat Phou in the heat– in busses, on motorbikes, in the back of shared vans. I went there too, but also to Wat Phou Ngoi – a real temple, being used, perched high above the Mekong. The still expanse of water and islands lay presented below me. Beside the monks, I was the only one there.

Wat Phou Ngoi

Wat Phou Ngoi

Wat Phou Ngoi

Wat Phou Ngoi

Wat Phou Ngoi

Wat Phou Ngoi

Wat Phou also sits above the plains with a steep staircase running to the top. At the base they were busy slicing rocks and hammering as loudly as possible.

Wat Phou

Wat Phou

The towns around Champasak along the Mekong were lovely, with beautiful views over sandy beaches on the opposite shore. My destination lay on the other side, and a bit closer to tomorrow’s destination of the 4000 islands.

Crossing the Mekong

Crossing the Mekong

Returning to Route 13

Returning to Route 13


Hitler got the thumbs up. My improving Chinese was used to explain the contrary. My wallet was shamelessly investigated for foreign currency. We acquired another cyclist. All on the way to Xinxinxia.

En route

En route

Why is Hitler so popular so far from Germany? Where are you from? Germany? Hitler! And then the thumbs up. I heard that in the stans, and now in China. Is that the only thing they know about Germany? I used my ever-improving Chinese to explain why I did not like Hitler. I don’t think I changed his opinion.

Our days are cycling through the endless rocky desert and stopping at the parking spots with little restaurants. We arrive and make our way to their fridge to inspect the cold drinks on offer. We sit and drink our purchases while our bikes are gazed at, the tyres are tapped, cables pulled and my carbon drive (chain replacement) is inspected. This time my wallet was also picked up from the table and checked out. My one US dollar was extremely interesting. They wouldn’t let me go until they had exchanged it for yuan.

At one of our stops we picked up another cyclist who was going in our direction. What makes people click? What makes someone like being with another? I don’t know. Something just feels right. Looking into their eyes there’s an understanding. We’re on the same wavelength.

Achun and I looked at each other – we could read each other’s thoughts. We did not have a click with our new fellow cyclist. The three of us cycled together through the desert to Xinxinxia. Our conversations were clipped. Tomorrow our paths are the same too. There is just one road.

The river bed

The river bed

Looking out over the flats

Looking out over the flats

Evening

Evening

Evening

Evening