CHINA (1) 2009
2 665
Km – 75 Days
14
September – 27 November 2009
14
September – Nateuy, Laos – Mengla, China – 72 Kilometres
A
short 20-kilometre ride led up a moderate hill to the Laos-China border
followed by a smooth crossing into China. Once across the border, the ATM required
more guesswork than anything else, as the machine never gave English options.
In the end, it spat out a few Chinese yuan, and I was bursting with excitement
to discover China.
A
brand-new highway, sporting bridges and tunnels, ran to Mengla through an exceptionally
picturesque countryside. Bike problems made biking increasingly tricky, and
stomach problems placed a damper on my newfound excitement. Thank goodness, the
path descended to the first town in China.
At
first glance, China was nothing like I envisaged and Mengla was a modern and
fast-growing border town and not very "Chinese". I'm not sure what I
had envisaged as "very Chinese". Sadly, my first day in China wasn't
a good one and I was extremely relieved to locate accommodation to lie down. The
evening was spent shivering under a blanket, suffering from a high fever and
stomach cramps.
16
September - Mengla
The
following day was spent in Mengla to recuperate and to get a feel for this new and
vastly different country. It was a good thing I drew money as there appeared no
ATMs accepting Visa or MasterCard. I bought a SIM card but couldn't phone,
although I could send text messages. Facebook was offline, which could've been due
to recent political unrest in the province or Facebook was blocked in China. Also,
blog sites were blocked, but at least there seemed a way around that problem.
Ernest
tried to fix the bike, but the damage done in Vietnam would remain forever. Later
he was brave enough to buy meat at the market, a surreal place, which made one
realise you were indeed in China. Noodles could be found in all shapes and
sizes, and rice was, of course, plentiful.
16
September - Mengla (Meng La) - Menglun – 75 km
After
a leisurely start along the new highway, Ernest had a flat tyre, which barely
took a few minutes to fix. The road north was lovely past untouched rainforests
and past Dai ethnic communities.
Halfway
to Menglum, a pavement eatery lured us in; not because I was hungry but to
experience the cuisine. An abundance of food consisting of sticky rice and various
exotic dishes of unknown origin (including chicken feet soup and pig ears stew)
appeared. As soon as one bowl was finished, another immediately replaced it. Although
all were delicious, eventually, we could eat no more and signalled as much. Almost
the entire village had gathered to watch this unusual occurrence. Though uncomfortable,
I guessed the scrutiny came with the territory. Being the sole customers and
the owner not wanting any payment, it dawned upon us that the place was, most
likely, not a restaurant but a private home! Embarrassed, the two foreigners
slinked away, waving and bowing profusely.
I
wasn't feeling my usual energetic self. Still, I struggled onto Menglun, where accommodation
was discovered minutes ahead of a massive thunderstorm.
17
September - Menglun - Jinghong – 75 km
A
short, scenic, and relaxing ride led to Jinghong, along the Mekong (Lancang) River.
After a few kilometres, I had enough highway cycling and turned off onto a minor
route, past typical Chinese settlements untouched by commercial tourism. Two other
cyclists were encountered on their way south - they hailed from Austria, had
been riding for nine months, and planned to end their journey in Malaysia.
Jinghong
was a large, modern and bustling city. Even if European-looking from a distance,
the main difference was that everything was written in Chinese, making locating
accommodation challenging. Moreover, only a few people spoke English, which added
to the confusion. Enquiring about a hotel (indicating sleep by putting our hands
together and placing them under our tilted heads), a man pointed to a sign
above our heads. A situation that could make anyone feel stupid. Still unwell, I
had a peaceful and quiet evening, wandering around the night market and
nibbling on street food.
18
September – Jinghong
The
day in Jinghong was spent searching for a guidebook and road map. All in vain,
though, as the only maps were (obviously) in Chinese. Jinghong was not a
tourist area, and I saw neither a single foreigner nor Ernest the entire day.
The way curious locals inspected me, I guessed not many "long noses" ever
stopped in Jinghong - not that I could ever be described as having a long nose.
Hahaha!
Even
though not feeling well, I was intrigued by the food as there were exciting vegetarian
eats. I especially liked the dried, spicy mushrooms one could eat like jerky or
mixed with noodles. Pig's nose and ear salad was popular but useless to
vegetarians. Bread and cheese were unheard of, and you ate Chinese food or
nothing.
19
September - Jinghong – Puwen – 105 km
Ernest
never showed up and, unsure if he was around, I pedalled out of town. Without a
map, following the highway was best, but 20 kilometres further police kicked me
off the motorway and I continued via the old road. The path led through tea
plantations and rice paddies, roughly in a northerly direction, or so I hoped.
The route hugged a nature reserve most of the way, making it a breath-taking
ride, albeit not knowing where my path led. I understood this was the only
tropical rainforest nature reserve in China.
The
best part of the day was spent pedalling uphill, a slow and tedious task. By 5
o'clock, I slinked into Puwen, a small hamlet that mercifully had basic accommodation.
Once in a room, I smiled when listening to the village sounds. An old man was wailing
in the backyard, chicks chirped, children laughed, and it wasn't long until one
started crying. It could've been anywhere (apart from the wailing man that is).
October
1 was China's National Day. At the time of my visit, the country celebrated the
60th anniversary of the PRC. TV mainly showed preparation for a weeklong
festival and featured pro-China documentaries and speeches (like any other
country).
20
September - Puwen – Unknown village – 90 km
Without a map and no means to read road signs,
all one could do was follow the road. Occasionally, I checked with villagers if
I was on the way to Kunming, but people only stared blankly. It took getting
used to the constant attention - this was only day five in China and the
scrutiny was already getting to me.
Without an inch of flat
land, an additional day was spent peddling uphill. The road led past vast tea
plantations, as the area was home to the famous Pu'er tea. I thus found myself firmly
along the ancient Tea Horse Road. The Tea Horse Road dates back roughly a
thousand years and was used as a trade route between Yunnan, China, and India
via Myanmar. Horses and people transported tea, and tea porters carried
anything from 60 – 90 kg, far more than their body weight. Upon reading this, I
stopped complaining about the hills.
Eventually,
I reached a reasonably large town. After locating a hotel and rinsing my
cycling clothes, the next challenge was finding a supermarket and food. Again,
I was gawked at to no end, all the way to the shop and back. While shopping, my
every move was watched, and each item placed in the was basket discussed. At the
hotel, my bag was eyed with great curiosity.
The
hotel staff was accommodating and understood I was searching for a road map. A
few minutes later, the lady arrived with a map of Yunnan province, all in
Chinese; as a result, the name of the town still eludes me to this day. Even in
Chinese, it was better than nothing and at least indicated cities and villages.
21
September - Unknown town - Unknown village - 80 km
Map
in hand, I set off, up and over mountains. The kilometres on the map and the
distances cycled didn't add up. Comparing the squiggles on the map to those on
signboards wasn't successful either.
Atop
one of the mountains, a small settlement featuring accommodation lured me in. The
time was barely three o'clock, but according to my estimates, a further 45 kilometres
led to the next town and over yet one more set of mountains. The fact a faded
signboard indicated 71 kilometres to an unknown location made me stay put. The
accommodation was basic, but what can one expect at $1? Used condoms and
cigarette butts covered the floor, which I kicked aside and settled in.
22
September - Unknown town – MoJiang
In
the morning, I discovered another cyclist had arrived late the previous evening.
He was Chinese, riding around Yunnan Province. Without speaking, we rode
together the rest of the day. Unfortunately, I didn't feel well and was plagued
by the stomach problem I picked up in Laos. Little did I know my problems would
persist for a further two weeks.
Still,
it was good to have company and to realise I wasn't the only one moving along at
a snail's pace up the long, winding mountain passes. Regular stops made for admiring
the landscape, and he tried to relay what was being said. On top of one of
these passes, a lady invited us in. We sat in her humble home enjoying tea and
cucumber, dipped in chilli powder, and it appeared the only food she had,
except the corn drying in the sun.
Along
the descent into MoJiang, my cycling partner had a flat tyre and waved me on.
MoJiang was a reasonably large and bustling city sporting reasonably priced,
modern lodging but without internet access.
I
was sick all night and decided to stay the following day, which I spent in bed,
only leaving to see if I could get an internet connection. I discovered an
internet café where hordes of kids were playing computer games. From what I
understood, I needed a prepaid card, but their hand signals indicated they
couldn't sell me one. How strange. This confusion made me feel I had just landed
on Mars! Nevertheless, shops along the street were happy to let me use their
computers without any cost - how kind of them.
24
September - MoJiang - Xingcheng - 75 km
Upon
waking, I felt weak from a lack of food but preferred to move on. This choice was
probably not the wisest, and I could hardly get up the first hill. Creeping
along, thousands of flies buzzed around my head and got into my ears and nose which
was not something I could handle right then. Luckily, reaching the crest of the
first hill, the route descended to the next city. The way was uneven and rough,
and the descent was slow, but easier than going up.
Xingcheng
signalled the end of the day's ride and I booked into a hotel and ate plain
noodles, hoping the food would stay down. Getting to Kunming City could be a
timeous affair at the rate I was going.
25
September - Xingcheng – Yang Wu - 60 km
Each
morning I woke, convinced I felt better than the previous day but anything
consumed came straight out. Finally, and with no solution to my problem, I got
on the bike and churned my way up the mountain. Thirty-five kilometres of
climbing took four hours and left me utterly exhausted. By lunchtime, it dawned
upon me that there would be no reaching the next place as I was drained of all
energy. I was thus happy to spot a roadside room.
The
room turned out one of the worst places imaginable. Still, I flopped onto the
bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Surely, by morning I had to feel
better. Still, I couldn't eat anything, and drinking water made me nauseous. The
day remains one of the worst cycling days ever. A strange set of circumstances
played out as, a few hours later, the lady of the house woke me and stated the
bus would be there in 30 minutes. The establishment was, most likely, not a
place to stay overnight, but maybe a rest stop where people waited for the bus,
or a place not licensed to house foreigners. Whatever the reason, I had no
energy to argue and sheepishly packed up and followed her to the highway, where
she flagged down a bus. The bus took me to Eshan, approximately 65 kilometres
further, where a comfortable hotel was located. What was that all about? I
guess I’ll never know.
26
September – Eshan
The
day was spent in Eshan, mainly staying in bed and trying to get internet, to no
avail. At least I came across a supermarket and an ATM.
27-28
September - Eshan - Kunming
In
the morning, I emerged feeling even more nauseous and with a sore throat and
snotty nose. I decided to take the bus to Kunming where, hopefully, there would
be a chemist where the staff could understand English.
The
ride to Kunming was less than 100 kilometres and inexpensive. Once in Kunming,
the city was considerably more substantial than anticipated, featuring flyovers,
highways and heavy traffic. Finally, I found the place I was looking for. A lovely
backpacker's hostel with all facilities (free internet, Wi-Fi, a restaurant and
laundry). I took a bed in one of their spotless dorms.
The
following day was spent trundling around all the fancy shops, supermarkets and well-stocked
outdoor stores. Parks were plentiful and real havens, especially early morning
when elderly ladies exercised.
29
September - 4 October – Kunming
Cloudland
Hostel was a great place to meet interesting travellers. Albeit weak, I managed
to shuffle to Green Lake Park which housed the 1000-year-old Yuantong Temple,
and tried to eat at an excellent vegetarian restaurant but it was a waste of
money. At the hostel, I discovered Ernest there as well. I couldn't say I was thrilled
to see him but was pleased to hear I wasn't the only one who took forever to
arrive at Kunming and found biking extremely challenging.
Suffering
from severe stomach cramps and a hugely bloated stomach, I was listless and
desperate to get better. A visit to the pharmacy came with a pregnancy
diagnosis (I guess indicating a bloated stomach and nausea, one couldn't blame
them!) Eventually, I gave up trying to find a solution to my problem. Waiting
it out seemed my best option as eating anything without stomach cramps and
nausea remained impossible. Feeling increasingly weak my ailment continued for five
more days, by which time I weighed a mere 48 kg.
In
the meantime, more than enough drama prevailed to keep me occupied. Two of the
lockers in Ernest's dormitory were broken into. He was the only other person,
and he was suspect number one. Luckily, one guy's alleged stolen goods were
recovered in his locker. With a whole list of different circumstances, he
became the prime suspect and Ernest was cleared. Still, he was a witness and
had to provide lengthy statements to the police.
5
October - Kunming – Unknown town – 80 km
Wow,
how time flies! It was definitely time to move on, and though still not 100%, I
could at least eat without getting stomach cramps.
The
plan was to investigate Shangri-La situated further north. We followed a
secondary route out of Kunming which headed in that direction. As bicycles weren't
allowed on the highway, Ernest and I followed a potholed rural path, making the
journey slow and frustrating. I had no energy but pushed onwards until a town sporting
accommodation and food rolled into view.
In
the countryside, rooms were inexpensive but came without any frills. As usual,
Ernest went to the market and later prepared potatoes to be eaten with a fresh
salad. The meal was greatly appreciated as I couldn't face anything fried or
oily.
6
October - Unknown town - Lufeng – 38 km
I
felt weaker than expected; my legs didn't want to do the job required. The road
was terrible but ran through a beautiful rural area where corn hung from balconies
and rafters; some had a better crop than others. With dogs snapping at our
heels, we pulled into Lufeng, known as the hometown of dinosaurs. Lufeng was a
fair-sized town, offering suitable accommodation in the city's centre.
At
the time of our visit, Lufeng was well known due to the discovery of more than 110
dinosaur fossils, the location with the highest number and most complete
skeletons in the world. More recently, the earliest collection of fossilised
dinosaur embryos was discovered, dating back 197 million to 190 million years
ago! That's a seriously long time ago!
7-8
October - Lufeng – Chuxiong – 83 km
The
stretch of road between Lufeng and Chuxiong offered gorgeous scenery. While the
way was poor, the day was enjoyable as our path followed a narrow and deep
river gorge. The many narrow, dark tunnels made it tricky riding in the company
of trucks and traffic. However, budget accommodation was discovered in the city
centre near food shops. Afterwards, Ernest returned from the market with a large
bag of food, including rice and four vegetables, all at a reasonable price.
Chuxiong
turned out a fascinating place. Being the Yi Autonomous region's capital, the
town was home to Yi Ren Gu Zhen (an Ancient Town of the Yi People). The Yi is
one of China's 55 ethnic minorities. But by then, practically all the villages biked
through resembled ancient towns with low, tiled-roof houses and narrow, cobbled
streets.
The
day was spent in Chuxiong to extend our Chinese visas and, in the process, a
better room was located close to the Foreign Affairs office. The fact that one
could purchase delicious vegetarian food around every corner was a bonus. The best
part of the day was spent stuffing ourselves with rice and vegetables.
9
October - Chuxiong - Shaqiao – 61 km
Feeling
stronger following a day of rest and food, we followed a rough path out of
Chxiong. My assumption that conditions would improve was, clearly, incorrect. The
hills made it sweaty work, but one could feel winter approaching on the descent.
I had to dig out my windbreaker from the bottom of my pannier, something I hadn't
needed in more than a year and it was not weather I was particularly thrilled
about.
The
Chinese were big tea drinkers, and one seldom saw a Chinese person without a
jar from which they sipped all day, clutched under their arm. It reminded me of
the mate drinking in South America. Like in South America, hot water was readily
available almost anywhere.
10
October - Shaqiao - Xianyun – 95 km
The
ride from Shagiao to Xiangun was challenging as the road was in an appalling state
of disrepair and extremely uneven, which tested my mental strength to no end. In
addition, steep hills and a headwind hampered our efforts, making for a late
arrival in Xianyun.
Once
in Xianyang, the usual procedure of locating an abode around the food lanes
followed. Supper was a delicious meal of rice and crispy wok-fried vegetables. Feeling
exhausted, I had an early night.
11
October - Xianyun – Xiaguan (modern-day Dali City) – 71 km
Still
tired in the morning, I wondered how I would fare. The route out of Xianun
started along a mountain pass but, once over the top, the path descended into
Dali City. The way led past numerous small communities, where crop harvesting
was in full swing. The roadside was used to dry all types of conceivable grains
- everything from rice, corn, chillies and beans was spread out in the sun. Winter
was fast approaching, and what wasn't dry would soon rot.
Although
early, we decided to take a room and get more tasty Chinese food. I was slightly
disappointed as prices were significantly higher and the food was not nearly as
good as in the countryside.
12
October - Old Dali – 14 km
Departing
Dali City was at a leisurely pace as the distance to Old Dali was scarcely 15 kilometres.
We discovered a budget room, just outside the walls of the old town and close
to the South Gate. The gate has a history dating back over 600 years and is the
oldest building in the area.
Dali
Old Town was a major stop along the Ancient Tea Horse Road, or Southwest Silk
Road, and dated back more than 1,000 years when Dali was the region's capital
and one of the world's largest cities.
Finding
the old town tremendously touristy was thus not surprising. Of course, it included
stacks of tourist buses pulling in throughout the day. Nevertheless, Dali
remained a laidback and easy-going village, graced with traditional
Chinese-style buildings with tiled roofs, plastered brick or white-washed
walls, and along cobbled streets.
I
couldn't wait to explore the busy pedestrian lanes, with their lively touristy
trade where shops and mobile carts lined the narrow streets. The area around
the square offered food aplenty as well as numerous clothing and jewellery vendors,
all offering overpriced items to the busloads of tourists (mainly from other
parts of China). Many restaurants provided pizzas and Western-style food, which
I wasn't going to complain about right then.
13-14
October - Dali
After
three days in Dali and many pizzas later, the time came to move along. As we proceeded
north, I believed the weather would become even colder. Thus, I bought warm
clothes and spent money buying a new pair of pants as the old ones kept falling
down. The Chinese were such tiny people, the pants fitted but I found the
length barely three-quarters.
15
October - Dali – Songgui – 99 km
The
day started with a comfortable flat and tailwind-assisted cycle along the lake,
followed by a 15-kilometre, scenic, winding uphill ride. Luckily, the route was
in fair condition. The landscape was magnificent and offered vistas into deep
valleys below. A few snowy peaks were spotted further north and I was thankful for
the warm clothes purchased.
To
our surprise, a 12-kilometre descent led us into Songgui, which offered all the
necessary facilities. A brand-new hotel with modern fittings, snow-white
bedding and towels, at a remarkably reasonable price, sealed an enjoyable day of
riding.
By
evening, our nightly adventure to locate something to eat was fun as it was
always surprising what would be discovered. The typical street-side restaurants
had ingredients on display from which one could choose. The chosen ingredients
were then cooked in a wok and usually served on a bed of rice or noodles.
16-18
October - Songgui – Lijiang – 74 km
The
weather was perfect, sunny, and with a mild tailwind, all conditions which
helped ensure a pleasurable cycle. The vistas were outstanding as we biked up
and down hills through traditional settlements. (Darn, those hills were sharp!).
Lunch
consisted of rice accompanied by a side serving of beans and cabbage, all fried
in a wok. Then, with full bellies, we proceeded up the pass, reaching the old
Lijiang in good time where digs were found in this ancient city's narrow,
cobblestoned streets.
Lijiang's
Old Town was a well-preserved old city that can be traced to the Warring States
Period (476-221 BC). During the Tang Dynasty (618-907), Lijiang's economy peaked
with the development of the Ancient Tea Horse Road. During that time, the town was
an important trade centre between Sichuan, Yunnan, and Tibet due to its
location at the junction of the Southern Silk Road and the Ancient Tea Horse
Road.
Old
Lijiang was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site and was the most visited old
town in China and, understandably, crowded. I understood the city received eight
million visitors a year. The ensuing two days were spent exploring the ancient town
and its maze of cobbled streets and canals. Becoming lost and finding my way
back to the popular budget Ma-Ma's Naxi Guest House was part of the fun.
Ma-Ma's
was a great place to hang out. Besides the cosy courtyard, Ma-Ma looked after each
guest and fed us fruit and copious amounts of tea (all free of charge).
I
decided to play backpacker/tourist and take the bus north to the highland town
of Shangri-La (formerly Zhongdian) and, on the way, hike the Tiger Leaping
Gorge. After that, the plan was to return to Lijiang as no roads ran from
Shangri-La to Lugu Lake, our next destination.
19
October - Lijiang - Shangri-La (by bus)
Ernest
joined in on the bus ride to Shangri-La but took his bike, enabling him to
return by bicycle instead of hiking the gorge. I was excited about the bus ride
and thought it was quite a novelty. Shortly after departing the town of Lijiang,
the bus headed up a mountain. Soon, one could see Lijiang in the valley far
below. The bus slowly snaked up and down near-vertical mountain passes and I
was thankful not to be on the bike.
Following
more than four hours of bouncing, the bus arrived in Shangri-La. The name conjured
up images of a mythical paradise; instead, I found the town over-commercialised
and, at an altitude of 3,300 metres, icy cold. Albeit immensely touristy, Shangri-La
had an old town area featuring a strong Tibetan influence. In ancient times, the
area was the fiefdom of three sons of a Tibetan King. Today, the majority of
the population is still Tibetan. With its fascinating ethnic culture, it's an
interesting place to explore.
20
October - Shangri-La
Accommodation
in Shangri-La was well equipped for cold weather, making getting up hard. But eventually,
I braved the weather and set out to the square where hawkers sold BaBa (fried
flatbread served accompanied by chillies) a Shangri-La Tibetan favourite. Around
the corner from the square were the ever-present steamed rice dumplings. This
time they served a vegetarian version containing veggies or mushrooms. I was in
seventh heaven and scoffed quite a few.
Ernest
and I wandered around the old town, along narrow alleys and cobblestone
streets, dodging hordes of Chinese tourists. Unfortunately, the nearby
monastery's entrance fee was rather excessive. So, we gave it a miss and instead
returned to town where we walked up the hill to a picturesque temple
overlooking the old city.
21
October - Shangri La – Qiaotou
Reluctantly,
I crawled out of my warm bed, and it was late before I eventually donned my
little backpack and headed to the bus station and Qiaotou. The bus took approximately
two hours to reach Qiaotou.
Once
there, I wandered around the small town before starting my trek. The entrance
fee to the gorge was 50 yuan and, once past the ticket office, signs to the
High Trail were visible. In addition, mountainside guesthouses advertise
themselves on large stones along the trail. I came upon the first Inn roughly
an hour and a half later. The scenery was exceptional from the start, and I
felt thrilled and privileged walking along the trail without a soul in sight.
According
to my info, a three-hour trek remained to the next inn and I opted to stay at
Naxi Family Guest House. The guest house was a traditional Naxi home run by an
amicable Naxi family. The rooms had excellent vistas, were wonderfully
comfortable and offered electric blankets.
22
October - Tiger Leaping Gorge - Naxi Family Guest House – Tina's Guest House
I
surfaced to excellent views of Jade Dragon Mountain from my bedroom window. What
a privilege! Breakfast consisted of fried noodles with veggies and a walnut
pancake. By 9h00, I was ready to start the hike and strolled along the path sporting
high mountains along both sides and the river far below. The day's hike took me
past small settlements high up on the hill, where people went about their daily
chores, feeding livestock and collecting wood for the fast-approaching winter.
Now
and again, one came upon a lodge where trekkers could stop and have a cup of
tea, provided free of charge.
High
waterfalls spilt over the trail requiring careful manoeuvring not to be washed
away over the edge. With a sigh of relief, I made my way across and proceeded along
the track. The sight of the gorge with the river far below was excellent. In no
time, I wandered into Tina's Guest House, located at the junction and, as a bus
was about to leave, I hopped on and were in Lijiang at around 21h00. I should've
walked much slower as the walk was over far too quickly.
23
October - Lijiang
I
couldn't wait to head to the baba and fried potato stand; it was oily and
greasy, but yummy. I spent the day lazing in the sun, eating and chatting with
other travellers. I had, by then, picked up a large amount of the weight lost during
my illness and felt strong and healthy (thanks to the fried babas and fried
potatoes).
I
loved China, mainly because there were many ethnic groups, all with their own customs.
Besides the Han majority in the southeast, there were regional minorities such
as Dai, Bai, Naxi, Yi, Mosu, etc., all with different looks, clothing, food and
architecture. Many places I stayed at were part of family homes, and one got a
peep into their daily family lives. The restaurant area was usually the family
kitchen/lounge where they ate, watched TV, kids played, and pets lazed about.
Sadly,
just as one came upon something nice to eat, the dish would completely disappear
as one moved into a different region. Lijiang was situated around a lake and
had an abundance of fish. Piglets on spits were barbequed at virtually every
corner. The custom was to sit at low tables fitted with wire mesh in the middle
and coals underneath, allowing guests to barbeque their own food.
24
October - Lijiang
The
plan was to leave this day, but Ernest drank too much rice wine the previous night
and an additional day was spent at Ma-Ma's Naxi Guest House. I spent much of
the day talking to other travellers in the courtyard while continuously being
fed fruit and tea by Ma-Ma. Ma-Ma was, obviously, in charge and consistently
busy organising lifts to the bus or train station, or organising bus and plane
tickets for travellers. Ba-Ba did the driving or dozed in front of the TV.
Amazingly,
Lijiang was a great place to hang out, given how immensely touristy it was. I
loved not being stared at, something I became a tad tired of in the countryside.
At least, in Lijiang there were thousands of tourists (albeit primarily
Chinese), and one could easily blend in.
25 October - Lijiang – Mountain Camp – 61 km
Following being fed coffee
and banana pancakes by Ma-Ma (all free of charge), she sent us on our way with
a bag of fruit. Then, back on the bikes, we resumed our journey in Lugu Lake's
direction, home to the Mosu. I believed the Mosu was the last practising
matriarchal society in the world. After reading "Leaving Mother Lake",
a fascinating account of the author's childhood memoirs growing up in that remote
part of China, I was keen to investigate the area.
Following a long descent, the
path crossed the Yangzi River from where it climbed 40 kilometres up a mountain
pass. The climb was 1,700 metres to an altitude of over 3,000 metres, along a
rough, cobblestone road. Heavens, who still paves using such rocks? Not a cyclist!
A plain, old dirt road would've sufficed. The going was dreadfully slow, and halfway
up the hill, I called it quits and set up camp.
Being a mountainous area,
trucks and busses frequently stopped to fill their water tanks required for the
water-cooled brakes. These places made for suitable camping, as there were
usually toilets, water and, at times, basic food. It, however, came with loads
of bus passengers all wanting to chat and with invitations to pose with them. One
passenger laughingly pointed out they thought they were roughing it on the bus!
Nevertheless, the water point owner was super kind and supplied us with a flask
of hot water and a spade of coals to keep us warm. This was all much appreciated
in the arctic conditions.
26 October - Mountain Camp -
Ninglang – 74 km
I lay rolled up in my
sleeping bag, waiting until the sun rose over the ridge. Soon, tour buses
arrived and time was spent trying to explain where we were from and where we
were going. Again, we were invited to pose for pictures with them - an
invitation repeated many times during our visit to China.
At a snail's pace, we moved
up the mountain, slipping and sliding along the cobblestones, and dodging
stones rolling from the sheer mountainsides. Landslides seemed a regular occurrence
and, now and then, the path was blocked leaving merely a tiny section cleared allowing
traffic through. Eventually, the cobblestones gave way to an excellent paved
road after which better progress was made.
Upon reaching the top (3,100
metres), a good descent awaited. By the time our shadows had grown long, we
coasted into Ninglang, the long climb (nearly) forgotten. A room in Ninglang
provided a luxuriously hot shower and plenty of nearby food vendors.
27 October - Ninglang –
Mountain Camp – 59 km
The mornings were,
understandably, freezing, making getting out of bed a struggle. Following an unsuccessful
ATM search, we departed and immediately encountered a mountain pass, not the
only one that day.
The route to Lugu Lake was
narrow and in a dreadful state but exceedingly picturesque. Whoever referred to
Lugu Lake as "remote" sure wasn't exaggerating. Rural China provided loads
of colourful mountainside communities and folk going about their daily
business. Upon reaching the second mountain pass of the day, we discovered, to
our dismay, one more cobblestone path. Our pace slowed, once more, to a snail's
pace as we snaked our way up the winding route. So narrow was the way, encountering
busses or trucks, we had to jump off the bike, allowing them to pass instead of
being flattened or forced over the sheer edge into the ravine far below. Along
the stony road, the bike tended to jump in all directions, especially when
crawling up the near-vertical hills and one had to be extra careful.
As night fell, the only
piece of level ground seen the entire day appeared. The spot was a tiny patch
bordered by the road's curve, a homestead, and an animal shed, barely big
enough to accommodate our tents. More importantly, there was a stream from
which residents supplied water to the passing trucks and busses. At 3,000 metres
the temperature plummeted as soon as the sun set, which meant donning all our
warm clothes. All our activities were strictly observed.
Not only by people but also by the pigs, dogs, and chickens in the makeshift
shed a metre or two away.
28 October - Mountain Camp –
Lugu Lake – 21 km
The sun never rose over the surrounding
mountains and it was, therefore, past 11h00 before we got going. The pass
continued for six more kilometres before peaking at 3,350 metres. There was no
mistaking the top for all the prayer flags and the excellent views of the long-awaited
lake, the land
of the Mosuo people. The
sight of the bright blue lake surrounded by mountains and tiny settlements was
worth each slippery stone. I was more than happy to see the
downhill, cobblestones and all. The narrow, wet, stony path was tricky, and I feared
slipping off the edge and disappearing into the gorge.
The border between the
province of Yunnan and Sichuan ran through the middle of the lake, signalling the
end of our ride through Yunnan.
Luoshui was the first community
along the lake and we took a room as I understood shops and guesthouses could
give a cash advance on a bank card. Nevertheless, if understood correctly, the
phone line was off and I was to try in the morning, a significant risk but our
only option.
29 October - Luohui – Lige –
10 km
Thankfully, in the morning, the
machine accepted the card, and I could pay for the room as well as get cash.
Phew, what a relief. A dirt track led around the lake, and hardly 10 kilometres further, another
picturesque settlement appeared. I couldn't justify coming such a long way and riding
right past such a beautiful spot. A room with floor-to-ceiling windows and
views over the lake was a perfect choice. No one would get me away from that
window with its bench windowsill, complete with cushions where one could sit in
the sun and look out over the lake.
The lake may not be as
remote as earlier but stunning. Curio shops sold colourful embroidered
clothing, long-stem pipes and animal skin clothing. New guesthouses were going
up fast and furious. I didn't think it long until the whole area was developed.
Still, I didn't see any other foreigners.
30 October - Lige – Wuzhiluo
– 27 km
The route proceeded around
the lake past many small communities, where
villagers still fished for a living and lived a traditional lifestyle, including
practising "walking or visiting marriages". Traditional Mosuo women didn't marry
in the traditional Western style but, instead, met at night at the woman's
house. At dawn, the man went home to his own maternal family. Couples didn't start
up a new family and didn't share property.
We went pretty slow and ambled
into the tiny hamlet of Wuzhiluo at around 15h00. Wuzhiluo was peaceful and tranquil
and we stayed the night. Wind's Guesthouse even had food and such large
quantities were served that I thought I would burst.
Over the previous few days,
Ernest had developed a nasty cough. The owner made and delivered a unique
remedy to soothe his chest (steamed pears in honey). Here we encountered the
first Western tourists, Marie and Robert from France.
31 October - Wuzhiluo –
Yanyuan – 124 km
I was sorry to leave the
lake, but China was vast with a great deal to explore. The day started
promising as we followed the river's flow, a stunning ride through a steep gorge.
Sadly, the road soon started climbing out of the valley, a climb which lasted for
the next 80 kilometres.
My legs were tired, but the
ride was stunning, past small and remote communities where houses clung precariously
to the steep mountainside, and past rivers and waterfalls. Still, I was happy
to come upon YanYuan, which sported rooms with showers.
Ernest and I walked out and discovered
a restaurant where one could go into the kitchen and point at the ingredients
you wanted to be prepared. Then, with a bag of food, we returned to our abode.
1
November - Yanyuan – Yalong River – 77 km
Departing
Yanyuan, our path immediately started climbing up the mountain. We wheezed up
to 3,200 metres, while a freezing headwind threatened to blow us over the edge.
In addition, the lack of railings made the ride nerve-racking as a sheer drop plunged
into the valley below.
Once
over the high point, the road sped 45 kilometres downhill. We raced down the
mountain in bitterly cold weather to 1,200m - descending 2,000 metres in the
process! Halfway, an eatery provided much-needed warmth after which we further descended
until reaching the Yalong River.
Along
the other side of the river, one could see the path zigzagging up the pass and we
thought it an excellent idea to bunk down and continue in the morning. Thank goodness,
a conveniently situated hotel was spotted shortly beyond the river.
2
November - Yalong River – Xichang – 79 km
The
following morning, the going was extremely slow as the path climbed higher and
higher. At each turn, one could catch a glimpse of the river from a higher
altitude. However, the landscape remained magnificent, with terraced communities
high up along the mountainside with seemingly no link to the outside world
except the river. Eventually, the top of the pass was reached, and we descended
into Xichang.
Cold
and hungry we crawled into Xichang late. We hadn't eaten since the previous
evening, apart from a few sweets I had in my bag and it was past sunset by the
time we located a suitable room.
Ernest
immediately set off to the food shops and returned with a huge bag containing fried
rice, noodle soup and dumplings - he must've been starving. At least all rooms had
hot water and a tea flask, and I downed a cup or two before jumping in the shower.
3
November - Xichang
We
slept in, and it was late when we set out to the nearest dumpling and rice bun sellers.
Street food was inexpensive and delicious, and one couldn't get enough of it. After
doing the much overdue laundry, we made our way to the PSB to renew our visas. The
process was easy and the people friendly and helpful, nothing as I had foreseen.
The extension was processed while waiting, and I felt our request might've been
granted if we'd asked for more than a month.
4
November - Xichang – Mountain Camp – 47 km
The
next place on the map looked nearly 65 kilometres away, and there was no rush. However,
riding in China always offered a few surprises and our path led us up yet one
more mountain on this day. I don't know why it came as a surprise.
In
increasingly cold weather we slowly crawled higher and higher. By the end of
the day, we still hadn't reached our destination, and feeling almost frozen we decided
to camp. A minor roadside restaurant provided camping (at least they had water
and a basic toilet). Being bitterly cold, we set up camp above 3,100 metres and
hurriedly cooked food before crawling in.
5
November - Mountain Camp – Unknown town – 85 km
Staying
tucked in our sleeping bags until the ice on the tents had melted came
naturally, and only then did we emerge to defrost ourselves in the morning sun.
Unknowingly, our spot was almost at the top of the pass, as shortly beyond our
camp the route started descending.
The
day turned out fascinating as we rode past settlements with pigs, goats, and
chickens munching on garbage. The mountainside was thick with moss and ferns as
we biked along rivers offering high waterfalls. Now and again, we came across peasant
folk herding goats to better pastures.
Eventually,
a hamlet offering basic rooms emerged. It appeared a rarity to see foreigners
as we were stared at to no end. The two scruffy-looking cyclists were
undoubtedly the topic of conversation as we unloaded our heavy bikes and carted
our bags up the stairs to the room. Our every move was watched, and every item
purchased was discussed at length. What a spectacle we must've made.
6
November - Unknown town – Roadside Camp – 93 km
Under
scrutiny, we loaded the bikes, waved goodbye to the onlookers and took a reasonably
obscure path, which followed the river in the direction of Leibo. Though mostly
downhill, the way was in terrible condition and the going slow. The ride
nonetheless remained stunning and little headway was made due to frequent stops
to admire the view as the gorge became deeper and steeper.
The
weather worsened as we descended into the Jinsha River valley and heavy fog engulfed
the entire area. There were plenty of settlements along the river, none of
which I'm sure has ever seen a Western tourist. However, being Friday and
market day, we spotted plenty of folk on loaded horses. Others carried large
baskets piled high with noodles and plastic basins on their backs – en route
from the market to their mountainside villages.
As
usual, a surprise awaited at the end of the day! The descent abruptly ended, and
our route left the gorge and snaked up the mountainside to Leibo. This was
orange country and along the way there weren't just orange orchards but also
stalls, selling delicious oranges. At least that part of the road looked brand
new, making riding more comfortable. In fading light, the tents were pitched at
a truck stop (to the villagers' great amusement). We were given bottled water,
bananas and, of course, a flask of hot water and they pulled up chairs and
settled in to watch our nightly routine. I kid you not! We could’ve been
mistaken for the circus.
7
November - Roadside Camp – Leibo – 7 km
We
emerged to fog so thick one could hardly see the river in the gorge way below. Leibo,
a large town, was found following a short but near-vertical ride. We spoiled
ourselves, took a luxury room (by our standards), had a much-needed shower, did
the usual housekeeping, and stocked up with supplies.
Ernest
spent the day fixing punctured tubes, spraying the bikes using the hotel firehose,
and sampling the local brew. All I did was fill my stomach with wholesome
Chinese food, from fried noodles to steamed buns and fried potatoes, all served
accompanied by loads of chillies and a dash of soya sauce. The food was tasty,
and I couldn't stop eating. But, of course, it might've been due to the large MSG
quantities which seemingly went into all dishes.
8
November - Leibo – Ma Hu – 50 km
Reckoning
Leibo was at the top of the mountain, we looked forward to a good descent. That
was, however, not the case and from Leibo the road climbed and climbed to a
devastating height where small settlements clung to the cliffside, barely
visible through the thick mist. Toothless old ladies sat on their haunches,
smoking thin long-stemmed pipes, wrapped
in cloaks of blanket-like material.
A
heavy mist hung over the area, and one could barely see the valley floor or the
top of the mountain; maybe it was a good thing. At times it's best not to know
where the path was heading, but spotting kids on go-carts flying down the hill,
we reckoned we were over the worst of it.
Still,
it took 33 kilometres of climbing until we reached the descent and flew down
the mountain for the next 20 kilometres. Finally, we came to a screeching halt
in a small village offering food, welcoming inhabitants, and basic rooms. As has
become the norm, we rushed to the vendors selling steamed buns, fried potatoes,
grilled vegetables and rice. The entire community followed in our wake as we
strolled from shop to shop. Each shop owner eagerly wanted to sell us what he
had on offer and I felt sorry I couldn’t support them all.
9
November - Ma Hu – Bridge junction town - 58 km
The
day dawned misty and hazy as we prepared for an additional day of climbing over
high mountains. But, instead, a pleasant surprise awaited as the road descended
even further.
Leibo
Lake popped out of the mist, and it became a relaxing ride along its misty
shores. From the lake, a downhill ride ran to the Jinsha River. Up to that
point, the road had been
good but once along the river, it again deteriorated. Mercifully, it took only
a short time to come across a brand-new highway running way above the river along
the cliffside, consisting mainly of tunnels and bridges. The Chinese sure did
things on a grand scale.
Our
route reached the end of the remote areas and spat us out at a junction town
where construction of a huge bridge, which dwarfed the town, was in progress. Though
still early, the town was of a decent size, making it an excellent place to
spend the night. This was clearly not a touristy area as hotel staff became
extremely shy, giggled, and pushed each other forward to deal with their unusual
visitors.
Half
the town had gathered when a room was negotiated, all trying to help with the
bikes while jabbering in Mandarin. The unusual part was, realising we didn't
speak Chinese, the staff painstakingly wrote everything out. What were the
chances of being able to read Chinese characters if unable to speak Mandarin? I
subsequently learned the many different dialects varied to such an extent they didn't
understand each other, but all could read the Chinese characters.
10
November - Bridge junction town - Shuifu – 90 km
What
a confusing day. With limited visibility and an inadequate map, it felt
like we were heading in the direction we had come from. But, aided by Ernest's
GPS and all pointing in the same direction, we kept going. In the process, our
path crossed the Jinsha River into Yunnan province (completely unexpected). The
best part of the day was spent biking along a dusty track, made worse by
quarries and construction sites.
By
late afternoon, while searching for a suitable campsite, the road passed
through a long tunnel. On the opposite end, instead of camping, we discovered a
massive city with gigantic skyscrapers! Shuifu was thought far smaller and a
further 30 kilometres down the drag. This was clearly "New China"! Dusty
and sweaty, and in great need of a shower, the first convenient hotel had to
do.
11
November - Shuifu – Yibin - 22 km
Upon
leaving Shuifu city, a brand-new highway took us toward Yibin. A signboard
indicated 30 kilometres - significantly closer than anticipated. Unfortunately,
our joy was short-lived as soon a tollgate appeared, which prohibited cyclists
from proceeding. I much preferred rural China. Our presence was clearly a
problem for the authorities. They couldn't send us back along the highway, and
there was no nearby exit to an alternative route. Eventually, a vehicle was
requested to come from Yibin, load us up, and drop us at the entrance to the
city - a round trip of roughly 40 kilometres!
We
had difficulty locating a room in Yibin, a large modern city with predominantly
brand-new buildings. Moreover, the budget hotels didn't cater to foreigners. Nonetheless,
the hotel staff were helpful and walked us a few blocks to a hotel excepting foreigners.
Yiban was where the Min and Jinsha rivers merged to form the Yangzi, and an
easy saunter led to this major confluence. Sadly, the visibility was too poor
to see anything. Nonetheless, the abundance of tasty food kept us occupied.
12
November - Yibin
During
the night, the weather changed, and we emerged to a cold and rainy morning and stayed
tucked in until breakfast,
as a scrumptious buffet was included in the room price. It's always a pleasure not
to pack in such weather; instead, we spent a lazy day lounging about. The rain
had cleared the air, and the visibility improved from the previous day, allowing
us to take pictures of this major confluence.
At
first, I thought Yibin a soulless city, but the more I walked through the backstreets,
the more interesting the area became. The narrow lanes were lined with dumpling
and noodle vendors, and portable barbeques sold skewers of veggies, tofu and,
of course, the ever-present tea eggs (boiled eggs soaked in tea and soy sauce).
I
tried to improve my appearance by colouring my hair, but it all went horribly
wrong as it came out bright orange! That's what happens if you can't read
Chinese. Eeeek, orange sure wasn't the colour on the box. Maybe it was a good
thing I couldn't locate the hair removal cream I was looking for.
13-14
November - Yibin – Zigong – 107 km
Hallelujah,
at last! A day without a mountain pass! The route was mainly in good condition.
The weather was mild as the way led past dense bamboo areas and typical Chinese
cities. The old part still lined the river bank and a new, modern city rose directly
behind it.
We
finished the day's ride in Zigong just as the sun set, and found the town considerably
larger than envisaged. Following searching around in the dark, a good enough
room was discovered. After settling in, the usual hunt to fill our bellies was
on, but it was not as simple as in Yibin. All places tended to have different
specialities, and we were likely not in an ideal area to find good eats. Our
takeaways contained largely meat - at least one of us went to bed with a full
stomach.
An
additional day was spent in Zigong as there were reportedly several interesting
sites to see in the city.
15
November - Zigong
Freezing
weather set in and an additional day
was spent in Zigong, exploring the museums. Following a breakfast of steamed
rice buns and hot soya milk, a taxi took us to the Dinosaur Museum along the city's
outskirts. Over 100 dinosaur skeletons were discovered in the area (apparently
washed down by a flood and then covered by silt at this spot). Their sheer size
impressed me, and to think they lay buried for 160 million years! It is difficult
to get one's head around such a period of time.
Then
onto the Salt History Museum, which wasn't as impressive, but the building housing
it was gorgeous. It consisted of a unique old Chinese building featuring fascinating
nooks and crannies, constructed in 1736 by one of the salt merchants.
16
November - Zigong - Rongxian – 48 km
The
ride from Zigong to Rongxian was in freezing weather, with wind and rain. My
friends from the frozen north may think: What is this woman on about? It's only
three degrees C! I'm sure my South African friends would agree that three degrees
C is darn cold! Ernest kept reminding me I was a baby in cold weather, and I
didn't feel sorry when his gear cable broke into Rongxian. Why pass a perfect
town offering hotels and restaurants, when you've long forgotten you have
fingers or toes?
After
a steaming bowl of noodle soup, I got into the wooden spa-like tub in the room
and stayed indoors for the rest of the evening.
17
November - Rongxian – Leshan – 92 km
Loading
the bikes, the hotel staff presented us with a neatly written note, stating the
weather was unusually cold and that we should dress warmly and eat the apples
they packed. How sweet of them.
While
bitterly cold, it was thankfully not raining. The way was good and led past
temples, pagodas, rivers and valleys until reaching Leshan, known for its Grand
Buddha, which I was keen to get a glimpse of. Once again, I was struck by the
friendliness and honesty of the Chinese people. Cycle rickshaw drivers were eager
to show us to a popular budget hotel (in other places this is usually done at a
fee). Once there, we offered to pay, but he refused and merely waited to see if
we were happy before quietly disappearing.
18
November - Leshan
There's
nothing like a Snickers Bar and coffee breakfast on a cold and windy morning. Being
bitterly cold outside we stayed tucked in until reasonably late. Eventually, I
ventured out and was delighted to come upon a small corner shop, where through
a cloud of feathers, I could barely make out the busy owner sewing and stuffing
down coats. I invested in a half-length coat, to keep the worst of the cold at
bay. Where I was going to store my purchase was a mystery.
I
donned my new purchase and we set off to the sightseeing ferry to the Grand
Buddha. Even though pricey and touristy (Ernest and I were in the company of many
frozen Chinese tourists), the trip remained worthwhile and the only way to see
the total statue at once. Carved out of the riverside cliff in AD 713 it took
90 years to complete. The carving was impressive at 71 metres high, with 7-metre
ears and big toes of 8.5 metres long. History tells the Buddhist monk Hai Tong was
concerned about the many fishermen killed by the Min and Dadu Rivers'
confluences’ turbulent waters. Hai Tong decided to carve a Buddha statue beside
the river and believed this sculpture would appease the river gods and keep the
locals safe. He begged for over 20 years to accumulate enough money to build the
statue and refused all official help. He believed the parties who offered support
wanted to gain personal profits from the project. He gouged out one of his
eyeballs in protest against the local authorities, so adamant was he in his
refusal. Gosh, what a thing to do! Fortunately, Hai Tong's disciples continued
his work after he passed away and finally completed the sculpture in 803 AD following
90 years of hard work. Interestingly enough, the many stones that fell into the
river during construction calmed the waters. No drownings have been reported
since.
19
November - Leshan – Meishan – 89 km
Being
close to zero degrees departing Leshan, the day offered little in the line of
scenery as practically the whole way was through built-up areas. To add icing to
the cake, it rained the last 30 kilometres. At least the path was generally in a
fair condition and there were no significant hills.
We
arrived in Meishan drenched and frozen, and not looking our usual stunning
selves. Ernest (still in his wet and muddy cycling clothes) went off to the
fried potato stand to get snacks as we were starving but returned empty-handed.
The old lady at the stall didn't want to serve him and chased him away,
threatening to hit him with her ladle! The tramp-like, bearded monster must've
put the fear of God into her. Although, I must admit he did look a tad like a
villain from a Shakespeare play in his long cycling pants, knee-length black
raincoat and beanie.
Ultimately,
I donned my coat and cassock hat and headed to the corner to pick up the fried
potatoes. At least I already had a shower and, I'm sure, as a woman, didn't look
as threatening.
20
November - Meishan – Chengdu – 98 km
Slightly
warmer than the previous days, we set out anew in the direction of Chengdu.
Chengdu was a vast city with a population of 13 million, and the entire way was
through built-up areas. Still, riding into the city and finding the city centre
was straightforward, but locating the well-known Sims Guesthouse was more problematic
than expected.
Sims
Guesthouse was located after navigating the city for over an hour in peak-hour
traffic and darkness. The place seemed nice, but expensive in comparison to
other accommodation. We nevertheless booked in as I had had enough of pedalling
along busy, multi-lane roads in the company of thousands of cars, buses,
bicycles, motorbikes, and dangerous silent electric scooters.
21
November - Chengdu
Our
Chinese visas were only valid for two more weeks, and it was time to start
heading south. Following much deliberation, we concluded it best to take a
train to Kunming from where busses ran to Jinghong as we had already biked that
stretch.
I
had to plan to get to Bangkok before the end of December to take care of urgent
business which I could only do at a South African embassy, and the closest one was
in Bangkok. The day was spent organising train tickets to Kunming and wandering
Chengdu's crowded streets and alleys.
22
November - Chengdu – Kunming (by train)
Taking
the train was quite a performance as the bikes were booked in at a different
location from where one boarded the train. Nevertheless, our compartment was
comfortable as our sleeper had bedding and it was a heated carriage. Food
trolleys came by often, a good thing too as there wasn't a great deal more to
do than eat and stare out of the window. Although the train was packed, each person
had a seat. It's a great pity one couldn't talk to the other travellers as the language
barrier remained a problem.
Ernest
had a great party all by himself with his bottle of moonshine.
23
November - Kunming
The
train got to Kunming at around 9h00. Getting the bikes cleared out of the cargo
section took forever. Finally, I found a hotel close to the Thai consulate. I
wanted to apply for a Thai visa the following day and Ernest proceeded into the
city. Unfortunately, the Thai visa issued at the border was only valid for two weeks
and afforded insufficient time to get to Malaysia.
Kunming
felt like home as I seldom visited a place twice and I sauntered into town searching
for a Laos map, as the plan was to take a different route than the one followed
to China. The search was, however, unsuccessful. Even though a Lonely Planet
was for sale, the book was a little too pricey.
24
November - Kunming
In
the morning, I sought out the Thai embassy but was told one needed a flight or
bus ticket to apply and that one could get a 30-day visa at the border. I guessed
it was a "wait and see" situation, and armed with this info I bought
a bus ticket on an overnight sleeper to the Laos border.
At
the bookstore, I ended up purchasing a South-East Asia Lonely Planet. At least the
book covered the whole of South-East Asia. I also bought a novel as I reckoned
I would need something to read on the long bus ride.
25
November - Kunming
The
bus departed at 17h00, and as I had the whole day to kill I roamed around
Kunming, which I knew pretty well by then.
One
more surprise awaited me as I got to the bus station. The cargo section of the
bus was full, and they couldn't take the bike. At least they refunded the
ticket, and I pedalled to the Cloudland Hostel.
The
hostel was cheaper and more social than the Camilla Hotel, where I had stayed
the previous two nights. Shortly following my arrival, Ernest, who had also been
booked on a southbound bus and discovered the cargo section full, slinked into
Cloudland Hostel.
26
November - Kunming
I
couldn't believe I was still in Kunming. After a leisurely start, I cycled to
the bus station to see if I would be in luck this time. Ernest
decided to tag along as he didn't have money, and we were fortunate as a bus offering
cargo space was ready to leave for Jinghong.
The
incredible thing about the bus was that the driver had a TV he could watch
while driving! But, of course, not even the bus came without a hot water
machine - there is no chance the Chinese will go anywhere without their tea.
I
was coming down with the flu, which made the bus ride even more tedious, and I
wondered how backpackers did it. I would much rather cycle, even though it's far
slower. But, I felt ill and following the nine-hour trip was happy to spot The Bus
Station hotel. The hotel's convenient location saved us from re-loading the
bikes and biking around searching for a hotel in the dark.
27
November - Jing Hong
In
the morning, we left the Bus Station Hotel to find a better location closer to
the city centre. However, suffering from a headache and body aches, I decided
to stay one more day. Seeing they were strict at the border during the N1H1 flu
virus (taking your temperature and all), I didn't want to risk being kept in
quarantine for goodness knows how long.
CYCLING
LAOS (2)
28
November – 4 December 2009
28
November - Jing Hong, China – Na Teuy, Laos (by bus)
Still
not feeling well, and as I had previously cycled the route on the way north, I set
off to the regional bus station, searching for transport to the Laos border. Luckily,
a bus could take me and the bike, and it became another long and tiring day on public
transport.
As
things go, border rules change all the time. Approaching the visa office, a new
sign on the window listed all the countries not being issued visas at the
border any longer (mainly African countries). With a sigh of relief, South
Africa wasn't spotted among them. (What a time to inform you, as by now one had
already been stamped out of China but would be unable to enter Laos). This reminded
me of the importance of checking border crossing details beforehand.
Nevertheless,
crossing into Lao was straightforward. It was simply a case of filling in a
form, presenting them with a mug shot, paying the money, and a few minutes
later you had your visa.
Returning
to Laos was good - the difference was immediately visible. Chickens were sold
in woven baskets by the side of the road. Stilted homes lined the streets, and children,
ducks and goats all wandered across the path freely. Things were generally much
less organised than in China, which I liked. As the time was already past 5 p.m.
I bedded down and prepared myself for the long cycle south to Bangkok.
