Dust roads south to Qilushanzhen - My Not So Long Ride in China - CycleBlaze

Dust roads south to Qilushanzhen

down the X446

The future of the Reds was very uncertain as the leader of the Chinese Nationalist Army (Kuomintang), 'Generalissimo' Chiang Kai-shek, AKA Chiang Chieh-shih, had embarked on a series of ‘encirclement and annihilation’ campaigns to throttle the life out of the communist-run Soviet. The first four had been unsuccessful, but the 5th was massive and included some 500,000 Nationalists troops. Four rows of concrete blockhouses had been constructed around the town to make sure nothing could enter or leave.

Chiang Kai-shek, leader of the Chinese Nationalist Army
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The Red’s leader, Zhou Enlai, had known the end was nigh and had been making secret plans for a mass escape from Ruijin and Yudu since May 1934. He’d ordered most of his troops to evacuate Ruijin and trek west to neighboring Yudu, and the whole leadership and organization was told to move, including their equipment such as a hefty printing press.

In October 1934, the first of the 86,000 Reds started crossing over two pontoon bridges which had been set up across the Ganshui River, each fashioned from the 50mm-thick wooden doors of local houses. Around 16,000 were left behind. Lanterns strung across glowed in the dark. The leaders either rode horses, or were carried in litters. Mao had his specially made, one with extra-long poles so as to be more stable, and with a canvas roof to protect him from the elements.

Just before the March was to begin, Mao had got malaria and Dr Fu was whisked in to help him recover. At the time Mao lived in a house on a side street in Yudu, not too far from the river, and is said to be felt ostracized. I don’t bother checking it out, although it is possible.

Yudu is on the right as I cross the river, which the Reds did on pontoons in October 1934
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The sun is strong, but there's a distinct nip in the air at around 9.30 when I cycle over the long bridge. The river is much wider than I’d imaged and those pontoons must have been quite something to walk along.

I ride along the S323 on the lookout for the small road on the right which will keep me more or less on the Marcher’s route. It's ironic that what had appeared to be the start of getting off the beaten track turns out to be the exact opposite, with a tremendous amount of traffic. It seems China is on the move. 

Fish
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A side road looks like the right one, but after about a kilometer a sign says it's the S218. This is the worst section of road I’d cycled on, much, much worse than the X roads I’ve ridden. Yet this is a main route. The surface is rubble and mud. After that, my sense of direction deserts me and the screen-shots don’t align with the situation on the ground. 

For about an hour I just try to ride south. I'm on a proper main road for a few kilometers, but it isn’t clear what road it is and the turnoff I took has me bouncing and swerving potholes, the narrow route often jammed with cars and scooters, with dust permeating the air. Nevertheless, after 90 minutes and 15km on my Cateye,  the fiasco comes to an end and I arrive in a village marked on my map: Xingbai. 

It's literally gridlocked, with cars and scooters unable to go anywhere, so I opt to take a break from it all for a few minutes and observe, and hopefully allow me and my equilibrium to get reacquainted. The Marchers must have had an easier time.

Some older men at the street market point me in the right direction, to a place called Xiaoxixiang. Initially it's quite a few more kilometres of bumpy mud roads jammed with traffic, but eventually the cars and scooters thin out and the landscape takes on a rugged look, with low hills of reddish rock looking like drumlins rising up not far from the smooth concrete road surface.

The better concrete road heading to Xiaoxixiang
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Noodles for lunch in Xiaoxixiang
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It's around noon when I wheel into Xiaoxixiang, a busy place with more street stalls lining the road. I find a simple place to have some noodles and get talking to the owners 24-year-old son, who has majored in Business English. He escorts me to buy some more of those small, sweet kumquat - my new go-to fruit - and tells there's a hotel of sorts around 20km ahead, in a place called Qilushanzhen. That's good news.

It's just as well I pull in to buy a drink at a remote petrol station. There 's yet another English speaker – this time a young woman – who points out that the side road to Qilushanzhen is directly across from us. She writes down the name of the hotel and after a kilometre of steady descending and bit of wandering around the one-street village, I find it.

It's far from salubrious, with rudimentary beds and bare concrete floors, but any port in a storm. What can you expect for only 80rmb – 8 quid?

Where I'm staying in Qilushanzhen - up on the top floor
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The ground floor has portaits of Zhou Enlai and Mao Zedong
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Now early in the afternoon, there's still time for me to do some washing and get it on the roof to hopefully dry before morning. The merino top I've worn for a week still didn't have a whiff, but the dust from the riding on some shitty roads means it, as other items, need at least a good old swill in soapy water. I do that in the bathroom, using a plastic bucket. And the bike gets hosed down outside and the panniers get given a good wipe down. 

Hopefully the exceptional weather continues as I could get to Xinfeng tomorrow.

Today's ride: 60 km (37 miles)
Total: 477 km (296 miles)

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