Buh Bye Boys!

We celebrate our last day together, in Osh Kyrgyzstan, with ice cream! Until our next adventure together….

April 18th

Matt

Lucas

Yes, Team Windbraker Carrots were supposed to continue on into Uzbekistan for a few weeks. What happened? We walked into our host’s apartment in Osh. Louis and Karen’s apartment walls are covered in maps. They had a route from Tajikistan into Uzbekistan…it was literally 2 minutes and the route “clicked”. I am too close to the Pamirs to NOT GO. So…here I go…Kyrgyzstan -> Kazakhstan -> Uzbekistan -> Tajikistan (Pamir Highway) -> Kyrgyzstan -> China.

They were saddened to see me go, I was a little apprehensive to leave them behind but I’m saccustomed to being alone. Someone recently asked if it’s quicker for me to adapt to being with partners or alone. Honestly, I think I adapt quicker when solo. It’s just what I’m accustomed to…you know, ain’t nothing personal!

I did get short with them one day, as I was feeling very emotionally fragile. As a team of 3, 2 being family…it was 2 vs 1. Usually we can shoot the shit and pick on each other with no problems…but there were some days I was just kind of…”absent”/”fragile”/just not all together. I need the days of solo to figure stuff out.

Don’t worry, they cared for me well after I let them know I was very fragile.

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 7: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 31 2012

What the hell can I say?

Morning camp, Matt eating breakfast.

Beautiful view, of course.


The road you see above, that’s frozen ice with the track marks cut through. Cold water will run through the tracks, soaking our feet, and then everything re freezing.

The day started off well, along with the first 5 km or so…then it’s just worse and worse.

Because I travel solo, my load and gear weighs considerable more than the boys. We traded off our bikes every now and again to split up the power consumption. Chivalry IS NOT DEAD!

We do try and make the best of the situation.

But we are losing patience and beginning to grow extremely tired.

Truck drivers are continually giving us hand signs of “X” but also pulling over and giving us food. If they hadn’t given us an extra supply of food…we would of starved.

We got cookies, chocolates, breads, and even a can of tuna. We sat on the snow and stuffed our little bellies the best we could.

One truck offers to give us a lift, but everything would have to be placed on top of the truck cab. The trucks are all locked because of the border control.

We are absolutely beat. Absolutely exhausted. I think we may have made a whopping 30km today…and I…look absolutely shameful. Not many women, especially me, would share something like this online, on their blog…but sometimes…when I man demands to help you, you just accept. My load is probably close to 20kg heavier. Also, the size, height of handlebars, and set up makes my bike very difficult to push. The brothers hate my bike…I still love her. She’s just a real c*$t to push up iced roads.

Now, to make up for this, I have been cooking for the boys. My stove works better and as they rest in their tent after this hard, cold, and wet day…I get to work boiling water for food (my food, to get rid of my weight) and water to drink.

(I’ve been meeting a lot of mid 20 something fellas…and the nickname “Auntie” has been sticking well. I guess it’s better than a “crazy cat lady”…but I’m still quite fond of “Ice Face”. That’s the story from the next day, April 1st.)

After dinner I snuggle into my tent and have 5 pairs of soaking wet socks hanging from my tent.

What have we gotten ourselves into?!

Day 7: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 31 2012

What the hell can I say?

Morning camp, Matt eating breakfast.

Beautiful view, of course.


The road you see above, that’s frozen ice with the track marks cut through. Cold water will run through the tracks, soaking our feet, and then everything re freezing.

The day started off well, along with the first 5 km or so…then it’s just worse and worse.

Because I travel solo, my load and gear weighs considerable more than the boys. We traded off our bikes every now and again to split up the power consumption. Chivalry IS NOT DEAD!

We do try and make the best of the situation.

But we are losing patience and beginning to grow extremely tired.

Truck drivers are continually giving us hand signs of “X” but also pulling over and giving us food. If they hadn’t given us an extra supply of food…we would of starved.

We got cookies, chocolates, breads, and even a can of tuna. We sat on the snow and stuffed our little bellies the best we could.

One truck offers to give us a lift, but everything would have to be placed on top of the truck cab. The trucks are all locked because of the border control.

We are absolutely beat. Absolutely exhausted. I think we may have made a whopping 30km today…and I…look absolutely shameful. Not many women, especially me, would share something like this online, on their blog…but sometimes…when I man demands to help you, you just accept. My load is probably close to 20kg heavier. Also, the size, height of handlebars, and set up makes my bike very difficult to push. The brothers hate my bike…I still love her. She’s just a real c*$t to push up iced roads.

Now, to make up for this, I have been cooking for the boys. My stove works better and as they rest in their tent after this hard, cold, and wet day…I get to work boiling water for food (my food, to get rid of my weight) and water to drink.

(I’ve been meeting a lot of mid 20 something fellas…and the nickname “Auntie” has been sticking well. I guess it’s better than a “crazy cat lady”…but I’m still quite fond of “Ice Face”. That’s the story from the next day, April 1st.)

After dinner I snuggle into my tent and have 5 pairs of soaking wet socks hanging from my tent.

What have we gotten ourselves into?!

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.

December 2nd 2011 – Mario Bros to Mori

I woke up to a quite cold and dimly lit room. Still, complete silence except for the faint sound of ice cracking in the trees in the back.

Without getting out of bed to look out the window, I can make a weather assessment. Being raised in the Blue Ridge/Appalachia Mountains, I can already tell what it’s like outside by the light coming through the window and the silence with the faint “crack”.

I pack up, eat the remainder of the bread, and drink the last bit of hot water (“kai shui”) in my instant sugar coffee. Again, it’s great staying in places like this because it’s super fast and easy to pack up in the am.

I vow to not take anymore photos with my point and shoot (quit being lazy) unless they are snapshots of me suffering in the elements or I have no option because of situation (i.e. police). Only for video, from now on, Jan 20, 2011.

It’s going to be a very white and cold ride today.

As I exit the building, I see Mario and Luigi taking care of the daily chores. Cow feeding and milking. Yep, I think Mario and Luigi may be a couple. This, I find, AWESOME. They get extra thanks and smiles from me…world love, dudes.

It’s about 10 am’ish. It’s foggy – frozen fog. Not too bad with a few kilometer visibility ahead. Once I get going, I’ll warm up and it won’t be too much of a problem.

10:42 am

The trees all have silver icicles on the tips of their limbs. I am doing okay at this point and enjoy passing the lone cowboy on his horse and my eyes dashing around the landscape. There still seems to be a bit of an incline, or my eyes are just giving me that “false” appearance. (I hate it when I have a false flat and barely pushing 15km, way to make me feel like a baby.)

Little girl’s potty break, although I didn’t use the structure for privacy. I nearly didn’t make it off the saddle in time. (Nothing like wet cycling shorts and an additional odor to add the lovely potpourri I wear around). You can gawk at this if you want, but any one that rides, especially women…one second off the saddle and that’s when it hits with full force.

When there is no traffic, I really just take care of business anywhere. Ladies, don’t be shy when nature calls. Tuck the head down and keep your face from traffic to keep the attention off of the fact that you aren’t “physically” a man. I really have lost any sense of shame. What happened? I guess, you just quit giving a damn and morphed into a true womanimal.

12:30, losing visibility. It only gets worse and worse from this moment on.

Boys get ice beards girls get ice braids. (How fitting for the nickname I picked up years ago, “Ice Princess”)

The balaclava got used after this, and I’m not posting a photo of that because I look like a monster.

I eventually end the day on about 3 meter visibility. Turning on my red blinky because of the fear of getting taken out by a car.

It’s an early day to Mori.

I finally have my gear loaded on my bike so if I take the back rack bag off, I can carry the bike fully loaded up stairs. Yes, I’m a g.d. beast. Well, beastly skills up 3 EXTREMELY LONG and narrow flight of stairs, nearly breaks my neck. I regained my balance before taking an awesome tumble down steps with bike in hands. (Mental note: save beast skills for at least a meter wide staircase, without white sheets covering the carpet, and a larger landings…and just not so many.) Christ! Laziness and short cuts are going to be the death of me. There was a naughty influence with me this summer and some bad habits have stuck.

(The beastly womanimal needs some sleep as I had a delightful 4 hours last night. Jan. 23, 2011)

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”.)

December 1 2011 – HongKaiZi to The Super Mario Brother’s zhusu

As soon as there was rustling about and the room was lit with sunlight, little sister and I went out back to the “cesuo” (toilet). I hate this type of morning, when my sides ache from the pain of holding my bladder. It feels as if it gets all blocked and takes a few minutes for my body to realize it’s time…to relax.

I can’t help but gazing towards the mountains during these few minutes. It’s cold and I can see the peaks of the little mountains. Damn, if it wasn’t so cold, and I was a little more insane, I’d ride my bike up there to take a look. Disappointed, as I imagine what that range looks like in the Spring – probably a fairly easy day ride with a nice camp. Not now, on December first.

Little sister and her husband wash up for the morning. Afterwards I’m led back over to her in laws for tea and hard breads. As she and I get ready, I get a couple of “how much did that cost?” Please, please…lets not play that game. It’s such a typical Chinese thing and I don’t find it among the minorities so much…please, don’t do this.

Her brother in-law is asleep in the corner. Three additional Kazakh men enter to join us for breakfast. They are quite nice and we go through all the basic questions and comments again. I still can’t get over how adorable her father in law is. Just adorable…in his thick army green pants.

The bread chunks are hard and you have to let them soak in the tea. The tea is different here. They add a yogurt to the milk tea. So there are little chunks of yogurt floating on top of the tea. Watching little sister, I see her scoop up the yogurt with the hard bread. I mimic, delicious.

We all head out, as it’s time for the family chores to be taken care of. Her husband heads out on his motorcycle, father is moving the sheep out of the stable, and mother begins her milking duties.

There is a litter of puppies behind the house. I can’t get over how adorable they are, with their snorting and crying. It’s hard for me not to ask if I can buy one. It’s too cold and they are too young…just would be cruel.

I spend some more time with little sister and I get a few more “how much did that cost?” questions. Okay. I can’t do this anymore.

She asks me if I’m going to stay another day and I just get a strange vibe that maybe I should go on. I know I’m welcome to stay but decide to tell her I will leave and see how she reacts. “No, I really should get going, it’s getting late.”

Not receiving a response that I sometimes get when people REALLY don’t want me to leave. I pack up and set out around 12am. With one final “how much did your bike cost?” Please, little sister…don’t do this to me……..

I give her a hug good-bye and push off. The mama dog decides NOW she wants to attack me. Hearing the barking getting louder I stop in my tracks and see her running towards me. Little sister runs to hold her back.

A wave from the tarmac and I’m off. Within a kilometer I pass her husband on his motorcycle, after putting the sheep to pasture, and I wave goodbye. Good-bye Mr. Handsome!

It’s a long day of riding up. Cold. Very little traffic.

I see the first sign of life around 3 in the afternoon. It consists of a tire fixing place and a restaurant.

Pulling the bike up to the restaurant, removing my sunglasses, and sliding my hat off, I make eye contact with the little toddler in the doorway. I say “Hello!” in my cute child voice for her. She smiles and goes in.

Two older Kazakhs walk out and they are very friendly looking at me and the bike. Harmless, wonderful, people.

I enter into a very old room with a small table and 4 chairs. The cooking area takes up half the space. There is a room to the right that has about 8 Kazakhs and children around a large table. The t.v. is on and some are sitting on the old iron framed bed.

The color palette of the place is browns, reds, dark yellows, and greens. Just a very dark place but I feel warm and the people seem welcoming.

I have a hard time communicating with the woman that’s cooking. I order fried noodles. The folks in the other room ask where I’m from. “I’m American”.
“Ohhhhh, American!” With smiles, nods, and just a feeling of acceptance.

The toddler and I are playing hide and go see around the table and other general child games of looking at each other.

A young man enters and takes a large tray of beef into the small room. When I say “tray of beef”..I mean…it’s basically broiled/roasted whole cow with the skin and organs removed. It actually looks and smells quite delicious.

About 5 minutes later he brings a big chunk out, about 12mm x 12 mm, sets it on a clean plate and drops it in front of me. He smiles, “Chi!”

The cook turns around and smiles while handing me a knife. Well, I guess I just go at it. I’ve had some training in Inner Mongolia and I try not to destroy such a beautiful hunk of beef.

As I cut into the meat, the juices drip down my hands and steam rising from the fresh cut. It may be one of the most delicious meals I’ve had.

My noodles are served with chunks of beef and hot green peppers.

I try to converse with the woman but there is a language barrier. She tells me that the road is mostly flat to the next city. I know to never really believe this stuff completely.

The place is warm and the people are kind. I take a deep breath and relax for a moment. Then filling up my water, I say thank you and head on my way.

From the km count she gave me, I will not be making it to the city unless it’s all downhill.

It’s not. I have a pretty damn good mountain pass to get over. Is it the cold? These climbs just drain me, not like when the weather is fair. I think about how this would of been nothing 4 months ago…but maybe the weather really does drain someone more than you would imagine. I push Nelly the last kilometer.

I’m holding the top of the pass for the remainder of the day…once again, as usual, racing for light.

I don’t know why I do this. Sometimes I think I should just set up camp in the snow but there is a part of me that just says, “keep going keep going, you’ll find something”. At the top of a pass, a nice 20rmb room sure does sound nice.

There is a truck stop on the side of the road. The only “zhusu” has all the windows broken out. I avoid staying where there are truckers like that anyhow. I take a little road down a hill towards a village. No luck. Power back up the hill, past a police station, see 2 officers taking a stroll and I pull clothing over my face. Less trouble.

The pass is a good 15km and I’m not really enjoying it. “Keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize”

Towards sunset I begin the descent. I hate descents in the winter and at sunset. It’s just so damn cold, although the sky is always the most beautiful. I’m trying to get to somewhere warm, take photos, and just not freeze. It’s quite a balancing act.

I’m freezing, it’s near dark and there is no traffic. Luckily, this helps me hold onto my night vision.

With about 10 minutes left of residual light, I spot a hand painted sign with something about “zhusu” and “1.5km”. Oh hell yes!

I pick up the pace and I see a restaurant with “zhusu” attached to it. It’s tucked into a wooded area with only an outhouse and some cows.

Of course they see me and greet me at the door.

“30rmb!? Really? Well, I guess I don’t have an option. Okay.”

We roll my bike into the room and they reassure me it will be warm, safe, no other company…and the sheets are clean. Okay.

In the restaurant, I order a couple of dishes. As I’m sitting there and I notice that these two men are not typical Chinese men. They remind me of 2 people, with their mustaches. Oh, it’s Mario and Luigi! of the Super Mario Bros. fame.

They don’t have rice so I’m given some breads. Cold bread. I only eat one but they insist that I take all the breads, “a gift”, for breakfast. I’m beginning to think that these men have a relationship – they are not brothers.

Sure, not going to turn down free breads.

Back to my room, it’s dark, I have only one candle to last me the night.

I curl up on top of one blanket and cover with 2. It’s silent. For the past couple of nights, all I hear is silence. I love it. The light begins to flicker, as the the flame extinguishes I can hear the sizzle.

Goodnight.

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