Choose to live.

“Just choose one, Moseman…both will you lead you somewhere”. At a crossroads where I don’t have a legal permit to be, only 2 buses passing a day, 1 liter of water remaining, eating emergency food rations, and extended time at that altitude was causing horrendous physical effects, I was predicting my demise…you don’t have time to sit at a crossroads examining the paths to see which seems to show a history of more travel or kicking dirt around trying to forsee what will be at the end of each road. It’s not about the path we choose in life, it’s about making a choice and then cycling through with conviction, passion, dedication, free thought, and open heart. It’s not what route you choose that matters, it’s how you live through the journey that you felt was the “right”one at that moment. People say they are “lost”, no, they aren’t…they have chosen not to choose…they haven’t yet begun their journey. How can you be lost in life when you aren’t even living? This ain’t the gospel…just the inner-ramblings of a long-distance-lunatic-cyclist on a saga with skies in the eyes and a fiery heart that rules my journey.

Eleanor Moseman is a photographer and storyteller that cycled solo around Asia and Tibet.

Guess what ya’ll?! I’ve decided to hunker down in late winter/early spring to write the book. Yes…it’s ready to be spilled and chapters written that never graced this blog.

Tibet and Xinjiang

Until Friday, April 18th 2014, I am making a newly published eBook available for free! It’s an electronic version of “Life on the Tibetan Plateau”. This e-version has an added bonus of the text that was printed in the Brooks Bugle.

You can download from here: Life on the Tibetan Plateau

Also, last week a collection of 139 Uyghur photographs were published into an eBook as well. You can download by visiting: Uyghur

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New Print Available

On January 21 2014 I board an airplane for Dhaka. From there I will be working on another self-funded project. During my off days of working I plan on doing some motorbike trips around the country on a local bike. At this present moment, I don’t want to give away too much information but the planning is in the works.

There is a new print listed on Etsy and all profits will help go to the funding of this trip. A perfect holiday gift for anyone that’s lived on the road, or needs inspiration for 2014. I just can’t bare to do another Kicstarter at this moment, or rather, save it for something I’ve got brewing up on the back burner.

Happy holidays everyone, and I hope to get the rest of the Uzbek writing completed as I anxiously await my new China Work Visa. It’s been a very consuming process. Special love and thanks to those that have helped me with it, whether mailing items or allowing me floor space to sleep as I had to exit China to resolve the matter. New strict regulations. I guess if it was easy to obtain, everyone would have one. And of course, why should I expect anything “easy” or simple, ever.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/171865510/a-very-windy-road-along-the-border-of?

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Uighur work published online in The Atlantic

CLICK HERE to be directed to The Atlantic

Three years ago I set out on a journey and exploration of myself and China. Now I sit here, seeing the greater purpose of my life, direction, and vision. It was never just a bike ride for me…it was something so much more.

Day 8: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – April 1 2012

Okay, so here I go, recounting the worse April Fool’s Day joke yet. And, the second most fearful time of my life. (The first being a pretty bad car wreck, where I saw my life flash before my eyes…before being thrown into the backseat headrest from the front passenger seat.)

I shove my head outside around 8am and exclaim to the tent next to me, “Oh my god, this may be the most beautiful sunrise ever!” I race out of my tent with my camera and tell the boys to chill for a little while, I’m working.

View from my tent at around 8am:

Campsite, around 8:30am:

Other images won’t be posted here, sorry. Also, no more large res images loaded – too much download activity on this site.

When I put on my frozen socks and take a walk outside. My boots are so stiff from the water freezing in the soles. This is going to be an awesome day!

The boys push off about 15 minutes before me. We can see the pass winding up the hill, black speckles (the trucks) coming down the pass.

We are estimating about 15km to the pass.

The wind begins to kick up. The sun is bright, beautiful clouds to our West.

There is a new hand signal from the drivers today. They continually make a throat cutting gesture from behind the driver’s wheel. What, death? Do you mean “death” as you slice your throat?! Okay, whatever, lets move on.

The roads are getting worse and worse. The wind picking up. Big clouds moving through the sky.

10:43 AM

11:31 AM

We sit on the side of the road before ice wall’s so the traffic can pass. Then we hustle the best we can over the ice to get to a clearing.

11:45 AM

I distinctly remember this driver. He was expressing to Matt about the skies and the road ahead and urging us to go faster. He did the same thing to me and pushed my bike past his truck. He showed a genuine concern for us and kept pointing at the clouds looming ahead.


To the right of the truck, you can see the pass leading up the hill. We have about 10km left.

We’ve been dealing with ice wall’s for awhile now. Today is the worse day. Traffic is stopped and we try to help one another throw our bikes up onto the snow…digging in the best we can. We stick close together, one will throw their bike in and then run to assist – usually me. Again, my bike weighs considerably more.

This is an example of the ice wall. Again, continually getting truck drivers cutting their throats at us.

Around noon, we are still on the 8 and half incline up the pass and the trucks are passing through the single lane. Lucas is well ahead and it’s just Matt and I.

I pull my bike out of the snow, as it’s about a half meter up the ice wall from the previous truck. I had climbed the wall and Matt had shoved the bike on top of me. I had snow in my boots and mittens but I was a safe distance from the truck.

Not 5 minutes later there is another truck coming towards us. Matt runs up with his bike and throws it up in the snow. I don’t have time. I press bike against the ice wall and then me.

Matt: “Are you sure you want to be there?”
Me: “It’s ok, I haven’t got a choice.”

The next place would of been exactly where I had been.

I make eye contact with the driver, at nearly eye level. I’m watching the tail end of the truck. It’s coming closer and closer and closer AND CLOSER…I’m in between the bike and the truck. The truck is a couple centimeters from my handlebars and bags and I envision myself getting pulled in with the bike under the wheel well….

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The second loudest scream on tour as I envision my bowels being cut open by the truck. Or the bike being clipped and pulling me into the wheels, with me in between.

Lesson Learned: When a riding partner doubts your decision in life or death moments…DOUBT YOUR DECISION.

12:41

We take a break after the death ice wall, Matt shares the story with Lucas and the decision has been made to have lunch at the top of the pass…about 3km away.

12:46

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

1:00 PM

Something strange is beginning to happen. You can see the ice begin to fly from behind me. I had jumped over an ice wall to block the wind and get out of the way.

I begin to bundle up but then realize my zipper is broken on my jacket and my mittens are shoved with snow. Ducking into the ice wall, Matt comes back and tells me we have to get going…there’s a storm coming in.

Within seconds it’s a complete white out. The pass is about a kilometer away. I’m slipping in strength and I look back at Matt, “Just go on without me, I can’t keep up” as I’m blinded by blowing snow and ice. “Don’t be stupid, Ellen”, was stated very calmly and with a bit of love and concern.

We make it to the peak, a little over 3700m high, in the midst of a storm. Pressing our bodies against an ice wall, we have no idea what we should do. We are all silent. Waiting, freezing…knowing this is really bad.

A car comes by, after a couple of minutes arranging prices, they say they will take us to Sary-Tash for 100USD. No one has USD on them so we convince them to take 100 Euros. Little do they know they are getting more money out of it.

1:54 PM:
Bikes loaded.

As we were preparing to get in the car, I brushed my hand against my face. Something felt very weird. I touched my face again…what’s going on with my skin? (Later in the car, the boys would tell me my face was frozen and it was the scariest thing they had seen in their lives. My skin was beginning to turn blue, according to them. Ever since this day, I go by the nickname, “Ice Face”. Tough…eh?)

We load into the tiny car and as the seat in front is lowered, I can feel pressure on my frozen toe. We all begin screaming to get the passenger up. I didn’t nearly lose my toe from the storm, but by an old car seat being lowered onto it.

They begin towards Sary-Tash. There are a few trucks pulled over and everyone waving around the “X” symbol. The road is closed. We can’t continue. They tell us we have to go back to the town on the border.

SHIT! 3 DAYS AND WE ARE GOING BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED. No choice. No option.

As the car turns around and we head back, the driver points to the left. Lucas and I gasp as there is a frozen horse upside down, hooves mid air – in the midst of a run. What is going on?

The blizzard lasts for close to 2 hours, complete white out. The passenger will get out to help the car around. Sometimes both getting out to help oncoming traffic get through.

We have all moved our boots and socks. I’m repeatedly told I’m going to have to have my toes cut off. The boys shove theirs in their sleeping bags and mine are shoved in my hat…heels exposed.

It’s a tight fit in the car, and I’m sitting in the middle. I can see the gas gauge, nearly empty.

The driver is miming to us that we may have to sleep in the car. Every time both of them leave, the 3 of us are trying to figure out if it means we are sleeping there for the night.

I start my prayers of “oh mani padme hum”…the sky begins to break…I see sunshine…….I shove my head out the window with the loudest “Hallelujah” you’d ever hear.

The storm is over after nearly 2 hours. It takes us 6 hours to make it to their home. Where will be fed and cared for.

This will be an unforgettable April Fool’s Day, uniting the brothers of North East South West by Bike and the Wander Cyclist for ever.

April 2nd,
The driver will give us a ride to Sary-Tash. Where from there, we are able to hire a van to Osh. We are exhausted…we are on time lines…we nearly died – and me twice.

The daughter of the driver is attached to me. She loves having her photo taken and even struts as if she is on a catwalk at one point. She’s darling and also really wants my ring. I let her play with my eyeglasses instead. She stayed by my side during most of the visit and during our breaks on the car ride.

My mom recently asked me, “What were you thinking before the car picked you up?”

Honestly, I don’t know…nor do I remember. I just know I was really concerned about my soaking wet, cold feet. The boys and I did a tally on how many toes and fingers would of been lost if we hadn’t been picked up. We are pretty sure there would of been at least 3 lost – probably all mine.

I love you Matt and Lucas. Really.

Day 6: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 30 2012

March 30 2012

We get to the Exit Entry Bureau, I receive my passport and the boys get their stamps, a day before expiration.

It’s around 9:30 and we won’t be on the road until close to noon. Why? Let me share the story…

So, we have our stuff and we are ready to go. They wave us on and say something along of the lines of “go ride”. (Did you just hear the needle skip across the record too?)

No. This is not what is going to happen today. We begin discussing it through broken English and they tell us there are no empty trucks. Okay, I’ve lost my shit once before in China with authorities…it’s about to be my second.

In retrospect, it kind of weirded out the boys…and I DO NOT SUGGEST YOU DO THIS unless you’ve lived in China long enough to know the games. People always scream at each here, there is no shame…husband to wife, local to official…whatever. I know there is ALWAYS something that can be done.

I raise my voice, borderline shouting…okay, maybe I was shouting…in Chinese. Explaining how the guy up the mountains said we could get a ride back and now we are stuck. We didn’t know the rules, as they are new…blah blah blah…and then I storm out of the Bureau and let some tears roll down my face. A crying foreign girl usually helps the matter too.

The offer one bike to be put on the back of an unhitched big rig. No way in hell.

After 3 hours we finally paid a pick up truck to get us there. The officials even helped us get his price down. He wanted close to $150 USD but we got him a little under a $100. Those officials were trying their best to help us…and not to get ripped off.

Thank you Chinese officials…and foreigners…be careful when shouting at them. It’s a fine line and you really need to know what you are doing.

While loading the bikes in the back of the pick up truck, which is much safer than a truck…Lucas shows me something horrifying. His top tube had been against something in the truck and had been shaved away. As a member of the “Church of Steel”…I gasp looking at the aluminum shaved down. I drop the F bomb…dear god. It’s bad.

We are on the road by noon…we are racing the clock.

The roads are clear, considering we are ahead of all the trucks. The roads are still somewhat flooded and nearly a half dozen times all the passengers give a “Yae!!!” or “Whooo!” after successfully making the crossings. My jaw hurt from gritting so hard and the stress.

We make it to the border in about 4 hours. This is amazing. It was worth every penny.

I see my flirtatious buddy from the day before, but he’s not really as friendly as the previous day.

Riding through the border, I hit my 19,000th km. Of course this is an under approximation as my previous computer broke. I’m excited…this is my first ride over a border crossing. Exciting! There are a few border/passport checks and 7km later we are in Kyrgyzstan!

Black market exchange rate sucks.
Everything is muddy and slushy. It’s bleak. Trucks pulled over everywhere. Trailers spotted on the hillsides, selling SIM cards and food. We see a lot of snow ahead. A lot.

It’s going to be a short day of riding, with only a few hours left. We go on.

At Nura, about 3km from the border, all…let me say again…ALL the trucks are putting chains on their tires. They keep giving us hand signals of an “X” and pointing up to the pass. The tarmac still looks pretty damn good, and dry, and we just assume they don’t realize that we know what we are doing.

Ha! (Take note because we will be back in Nura in 3 days).

Within just a few kilometers this is our road conditions.

We are going up a mountain and I lose site of the boys around the corners. At a straight away, the traffic has been backed up. No traffic can pass. But what worries me is the boys are on the side of the road, bikes thrown over the ice walls, talking to locals. I see them looking at the bikes. Shit, what’s happened.

I push up and Lucas’ front left pannier had been ripped off by a passing truck. The truck did not stop. It’s just the clips that have been ripped. The brain child I am…I give them zip ties later to make the repairs and share the knowledge with them that these pieces can be ordered off the Ortlieb site. Yeah…German engineering.

We make it up the first tiny mountain and decide to call it the day. The sun is setting and we just want to set up camp. I boil up the water for noodles and the day is done, in Kyrgyzstan. With only one shitty thing happening today.

I would love to hear from you!