Cycling 100 kilometres: Weather permitting

October 30, 2014

SPOT THE MONK! And the winner of the 'Spot the monk' competition is Chris Dutcher who correctly spotted NINE monks hiding on the previous page. Now Chris, I know I promised that the winner of this pointless competition would recieve a monk as first prize, but unfortunately it turns out that monk trafficking is both illegal and difficult, and so as an alternative I hope you will be good enough to merely accept my heartfelt congratulations. Well done for being able to count.

With many people quite justifiably beginning to question my sanity I've made a decision that perhaps it is time to bring an end to the 'Spot the monk' shenanigans and try to direct this journal, and in many ways my life, back towards its main focal point, that being my quest to ride a bicycle around the world. Having once again failed to get anywhere near the required daily distance because of stopping in Langmusi I was now facing up to the reality that I was behind schedule to make it to Laos on time and the whole quest was, not for the first time, hanging by a thread. With that in mind I decided that I absolutely had to cycle one hundred kilometres this day, and not one metre less.

What I like about this sign is that the cow wins

With uncharacteristic vim and vigour I left the hostel early, and made unusually light work climbing up a pass that ended with a tunnel and then, as luck would have it the road finally did flatten out for a stretch as I passed through an area advertised as a 'Wetland National Park' although it looked like pretty dry grassland to me. It actually was looking worryingly like Mongolia by now, thankfully minus the empty vodka bottles.

I caught a double-overtake on camera! And involving two big trucks! Worth a few bonus points

According to the pdf 2007 Lonely Planet that Suzy and Dino kindly sent me, this area is home to the nomadic 'Golok' people, although in my opinion if they've been here seven years they really need to rescind that 'nomadic' title

All the villages I'd passed through for the past few days had basketball courts. Here was one in the middle of nowhere

Yaks and prayer flags were both still very frequent

I was making good progress as I approached the town of Zoige, and with 85 kilometres done by half past three the plan was to resupply quickly here and push on gloriously past the hundred mark. But as I got closer some really nasty looking dark clouds blew in and I saw them bearing down on the town with almost as much ferocity as me. I realised that this could really be a problem, because I was now at a head-splitting altitude of 3,500 metres and the only way I could survive camping out in such cold was by wearing all of my clothes. And if my clothes got wet, which they might in a storm, well, then I'd be in trouble. So I raced into town as fast as I could. I was surprised to see lots of other people out and about, seemingly not bothered about the gale that was by now throwing big clouds of sand around. Amongst these people I was almost stunned to see a few rickshaws. The first I'd seen since Europe and quite what in the name of sanity they were doing in this tiny little crossroads town I did not know.

Battling into the wind... going where?!?

I sought shelter in a hotel lobby to wait out the storm, watching as those rickshaws battled about in the wind under those charcoal black skies. But the deluge I was anticipating didn't arrive, and so I headed back out myself. At which point, naturally, it started to snow. This time I took refuge in a shop where I purchased the food and beverages needed for the onward push to Songpan. The family that owned the shop looked worried for me when I indicated that I was on my way to Songpan, most likely because of the blizzard and the fact that I was traveling by bicycle, and before I left a phone was passed to me with an English-speaking girl on the other end of it. "My mother says you cannot go to Songpan today. You must stay here tonight, and go tomorrow."

Frankly speaking I couldn't see any harm in a little blizzard and if I'd only had a proper sleeping bag I'd have shot off back out in the thick of it like Ryan Gosling, but the truth was if I'd gone and got my clothes wet and then tried camping out in my thin little sleeping bag I'd have died. On the other hand I was still 15 kilometres short of that 100 kilometres I'd promised myself I was going to do. It should also be noted that the "you should stay here tonight" statement was not exactly an invite, although the woman across the road that was waving me inside her hotel seemed keen to ensure I avoided a hypothermic end. Following her direction I pushed the bike into the warmth of the lobby. "I'm not staying, I've still got 15 kilometres to cycle. But thanks for letting me stay dry in your lobby. How much is a room by the way?"

She indicated that it was 40 yuan, only four pounds. I figured I might take a look at the room, just to kill time while the storm blew over. It was quite nice. And there was a hot shower. And wifi. It was a very good deal. But, no, I was determined to do 100 kilometres, and 100 kilometres I would do. I went back to the lobby and pointed at the sky and said I needed to keep going once the weather cleared. The woman was very keen for me to stay, and suggested it was going to rain more. Then she got distracted by a monk on a motorcycle who arrived wanting a room, and his bike joined mine in the lobby, and the two of them disappeared up the stairs.

The snow stopped and the skies began to brighten. I had to go, I had to do 100 kilometres. So I pushed the bike out of the lobby and just as I was in the middle of doing so the woman came running down the stairs and shouted "30 yuan!" and I looked at her and said "Oh, it's not really about the price, I have to cycle 100 kilometres you see and I really, you know what, no, you're right, that really is quite cheap, with the hot shower and the warm bed, yes, okay, I'll stay."

So I didn't cycle 100 kilometres but it was probably for the best because the road was wet from the snow and seeing as my front mudguard was in a Kyrgyz dumpster I would have probably got wet from the spray off the road anyway. And when I went out to get something to eat later that evening I was amazed by just how cold it really was, with much of the water having turned to ice. 'I probably would have died' I thought, as I ducked into a little restaurant run by a Muslim family. In all there were 52 images of different dishes covering an entire wall of that establishment and precisely two of them were vegetarian. The one I chose was delicious and, with great credit to the staff who anticipated my chopstick-naivety came with a spoon, but my thoughts were turning to what I was going to do the next night. I knew that ahead of me lay the highest point of my journey through China, at almost 3,900 metres above sea level, and I also knew that this pinnacle lay approximately 100 kilometres away from where I now was, with no hotels anywhere near it. Even though I would undoubtedly fall just short of cycling 100 kilometres I was nevertheless going to have to spend the next night camping up very, very high, with just my cheap summer sleeping bag. 'I'm going to die,' I thought.

Today's ride: 85 km (53 miles)
Total: 31,902 km (19,811 miles)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	1
Comment on this entry	Comment	0