Self Portrait from August 2011, Amdo/Kham Tibet

The moment, I knew, it was going to be a very long and cold winter. Watching snow flurries fall to the ground during the first week of August, as we ride from the Tibetans we had spent the night with.

Sunrise near Amnematchen (Amdo/Kham Tibet). One of the most beautiful mornings so far.

The evening before, sleeping with the nomads, we had been shoved in a corner together. I was in the worst pain of my life from my stomach problems and got no sleep, Brandon told me he didn’t sleep at all either.

When getting ready for bed, the Tibetan girl and I were giggling with each other for about an hour. There was a language barrier and we would just communicate with laughter and giggles. We were watching each other, curious of the other. One of us would do something, and catch the eyes of the other, and we would both burst out in laughter. Old cranky pants that I was sharing my “personal space” with was probably confirming in his head that I’d lost my mind.

That girl was absolutely beautiful and I have about 3 dozen photos of her. I can still hear her laughter and giggles, while adding a white powder/flour to her traditional Tibetan hat. What I would do to visit her again…………………..well, it’s not that far away?

Dinner, my only meal that day, in U-Tsang, Tibet (near Nima, September 2011)

It was a long day, but every day in Tibet was a glorious long day – and this would prove to be a very long night.

When I finally found an area where I could get some wind shelter, I pushed the bike off road and up towards some rocks jutting from the ground. Taking notice of the Yak foot prints, I was aware I could have some friendly visitors in the morning. I’m not worried, I’ve woken a few times with the clomping and the heavy breathing less than a meter from my tent. Hell, I’ve had a dozen of dogs howling and barking next to my tent. No, I’m not hardcore – I’m stupid.

Anyhow, I push the bike towards the wall of stone and begin to clear some stones out of the most level area of the ground. I hate slipping through the night, but I can tell I’m going to be rolling down…a little.

I haven’t eat at all. I’m now camping at +4900m, highest camp so far, and I’ve lost my appetite. I’ve been at high altitude for over 2 weeks now and I’m noticing some things changing. My ears are ringing, my feet and hands are beginning to take on a purplish hue, and inability to sleep.

Before I set up camp, I try to figure out how and what I’m going to eat. I have no alcohol for my stove. I’ve got chilled water and I know that if I let my instant noodles (pangmian) soak long enough, it will be close to noodle soup. I also dig out my can of “fried sardines with black beans”. This can was meant to be split, as they are super salty.

Wedging the bag in a Pipa (the rodent that lives in Tibet) hole, I pour my water in to let soak while setting up camp.

This is the night my tent pole splinters. Yep. Again, not a peep from my mouth except in my mind I “say” – “oh shit”. The wind can get crazy up here at night and I just pray it doesn’t blow down.

I nestle into my home for the night and begin my meal fit for Kings.

The fish is too salty. I can only take half the can before I walk a half a km down the hill and chuck it far enough in hopes to keep any wild animals away. (I’m constantly warned of wolves from people, but have yet to have an encounter.)

I fall in and out of sleep throughout the night. As soon as the wind picks up, I listen for more cracking of the pole. Luckily, it is still standing in the morning. Needless to say, at this point, the tent is holding up a lot better than I.

9am blazing sun

Near Nima, Tibet (U-Tsang) September 2011

I heard a crack the day before while riding. The bike didn’t stop and didn’t really notice anything different – so I continued on.

The previous night I had stayed with a Tibetan family in a very very small village. This morning she filled my bottles with tea and sent me off with a plastic bag of tsampa!

A few hours of riding there was another loud “crack” and I immediately felt my new Brooks saddle change under my booty.

I had just thrown out my old Selle Italia saddle and replaced it with a beautiful double rail Brooks B72 in Xining. This gorgeous beauty only had about 1000km on.

Dismounting and without skipping a beat I look directly at the double rails of the saddle. Both broken…snapped right behind the saddle clamp. Shit.

Really? I’m literally in the middle of nowhere. YES. LITERALLY!

There is no point in shouting or crying and actually maintain a very cool and collected demeanor. Gently setting Nelly on her side, I step a meter back and think about this situation.

This is exactly the point where I set the bike down and what I also had to decide on – which road?

First things first. I take out the multi-tool and skootch the saddle forward so the jagged breaks are in the seat clamp. This will hopefully get me somewhere for a shitty weld. I’ll have to take my weight off the saddle while riding, especially over this terrain. It will prove to also be the noisiest saddle ever.

I plop down in the fork of the road, feeling a little proud of myself for resolving this problem so quickly and not a peep of frustration coming from me.

Looking ahead, which road should I take. Again, the only map I have is a horrible tourist map of China with only main roads shown. It doesn’t even have Chinese written on it.

After gulping down some tea…wait…does this tea make me even thirstier? What is with this Tibetan tea?…and eating some tsampa I stand up and examine the road to the right.

It heads into the hills. There is a good chance it actually heads more Northeast, where at this point I want Northwest. I walk about a quarter of a kilometer down the road, closely…CLOSELY…examining the path. How fresh do the tracks look? Are there jeep tracks or just motorcycle tracks? How is the gravel thrown about?

After looking down near 16,000km of tarmac, gravel roads, cow paths, fields, I feel extremely competent of road judging skills.

I walk off the road to cross to the road to the left. Ahead, I can see that the road is pretty damaged from ice melt run off. This part of the road becomes about 3 meters wide from automobiles and motorcycles veering off the road and even another road has been made to the left. Further beyond, the road seems to wrap to the West around some large stones.

This road shows slightly more signs of travel BUT I notice multipele sets, and obvious, jeep and truck tracks. Yes, this is the choice.

(I want to state that the Brooks saddle was repaired by Brooks for free. If you use a Brooks B72 you MUST use an old style seat post or a “seat sandwich”.)

Moments of the past

Camp in Qinhai on the way to Tibet, with Brandon Wallace, under the Qinghai/Tibet Railway.

Taking a break along Namucuo, highest salt lake water in the world. 2nd day solo in Tibet, heading West.

Tibet at 5280m altitude. Physical ailments are beginning to become noticeable. Hungry and tired.

Moments of the past

Camp in Qinhai on the way to Tibet, with Brandon Wallace, under the Qinghai/Tibet Railway.

Taking a break along Namucuo, highest salt lake water in the world. 2nd day solo in Tibet, heading West.

Tibet at 5280m altitude. Physical ailments are beginning to become noticeable. Hungry and tired.

The End of Part II

I thought it would only be fitting to post images from the end, last month, in Tibet.  This was the most awful bus ride I’ve ever experienced – besides the fact that I couldn’t eat, I was vomiting, and…

You get the point, it was rough.  Day 1 took 13 hours to travel 150km.

 

 

 

…and 3 Months later. Yunnan, Western Sichuan, and of course Tibet!

I rode along the “Roof of the World”!


View Tibet in a larger map

Blue is cycle, Red is police escort.

Please check back soon for an update of the craziness of the last 3 months.

Ever since…

…Mongolia I have been wrestling with myself.  (Mongolians like to wrestle too).

A half a kilometer before crossing from China to Mongolia, it had been difficult.  One thing after the next.  It seemed THAT NOTHING went the way it was suppose to.  I know you should prepare for incidents like this…but seriously, never in my life had there been days after days of everything just down right sucking!

(I would have more photos but since that camera was stolen I’m missing some stuff).

We tried to ride North from Zamyn Udd but the road disappeared – literally.  I had been warned to NOT FOLLOW jeep/motorcycle tracks as they can lead you nowhere, or your death.  After attempting to talk to two truck drivers (from big Russian-wheelers), one woman, and a young girl in a pink silk dress – we asked them about the roads and he just pointed towards Zamyn Udd spreading his arms back and forth horizontally. (I understood this as saying the roads are everywhere).

This is where we tried to hitch hike.

Looking South towards China:

Looking North towards Ulan Bator (where we wanted to go):

This little girl was spending the afternoon before the Sand/Wind storm blew in throwing rocks at a horse.

We met some great people.  Thank god this little fellow could speak Mandarin and Mongolian.  We may actually owe our lives to him.

They make ’em stronger in the North.

We did finally make it to Ulan Bator, which was a complete fiasco and nightmare.  And where I killed my  budget getting back to China.

After a couple of days of finding maps, talking with people, weighing the pros and cons.  We did set out on a very cold and windy morning.  We passed truck after truck coming from the West, loaded sky high with dog? pelts.

It was so windy, barely making it at 8km/hour.  I was extremely sluggish (I ended up getting really sick that night).  It was gorgeous but I was freezing, slow, and just feeling really dogged.  Jason rode ahead of me but returned when he noticed I was not near.

We stood on the side of the road and watched a storm roll in.  Storms on the plains are amazing…this isn’t an uncommon experience.  You can see it in the distance and time it for duck and cover.  You can also get an idea how long it’s going to last.  This is where I sat, looking out, and made the decision to head back to China.  And this is the exact place where my dreams fell apart.  Take a note of the road conditions…um, I mean jeep tracks.

I’ve longed for Mongolia for years now.   There is something about the stories, the photos, everything…that has drawn me to this land.  Well, needless to say, it gave me a really good ass kicking.  Jason built his bike frame so I was also concerned about his bike holding up, along with his 25kg limit aluminum racks.  Do I regret turning back, probably not…but I regret trying to go North West when I would be face to face with wind.  And I’m talking about a wind you probably have NEVER experienced.

I think of Mongolia AT LEAST once a day and it’s usually when I’m lying in bed recounting my rotations and playing the “what if” game.

So, I threw out the idea to my pen pal, Ed, of the Torugart Pass from China into Kyrgyzstan.  I’m playing with the idea of just heading out of China and pass through the K’stans to get back into the North West side of Mongolia.  I could at least have a hell of a tailwind to Ulan Bator.  Can I handle eating all the boiled lamb…probably not.  But I think I could handle the non existent roads, and it will be a hell of a lot easier to hitch hike as a solo cyclist.  I just can’t be defeated and maybe I’ll get to see Lake Baikal after all.

One of my ideas was to catch a train in China to get to Lhasa.  But yeah, sounds like a super touristy place.  If you know me in the bit least…you know I go in the opposite direction of tourists.   So, what would I do once I get to Lhasa?  Go to India…then where?  I’m kind of getting stopped in those tracks…so it’s to the K-stans.  From there…I don’t know.  That Russia Visa is a pain in my butt!!!!  I may have some guanxi to use for this.

So now I’m thinking of doing a circuit into Ulan Bator or heck…just go to Europe.

Please stay tuned as I’ll be back on the saddle in about 2 months.  Just got my Visa renewed for another year…that’s the most important thing right now.

I would love to hear from you!