Wet and in Tibet

May 11, 2019

So what do I do now?

11/05/2019

Patience is a virtue I'm still struggling to perfect...

Yesterday started out wet and I started out the day resigned to sit it out, but my resolve didn't last. By about midday I had had enough and started busying myself and the bike for a ride in the rain to Tibet. The border is only about 30 km from town, or so says my OSM map, so that would be a 60 km return trip. By my reckoning I had more than enough time to get there and back well before dark.

This town, like the whole valley is under construction and although on the map there is a road leading from town down to the river road and one is being built, it's better to backtrack out of town and down to the main turning to the Yunnan - Tibet river road. You drop about 500 metres in a few km, so it was a fun & speedy, if a bit wet, descent.

Passed one of these on the way. A new village constructed for ethnic villagers in an effort to get them out of the hills and more closely serviced (controlled?) by the central government.

Once out there, pedalling in the rain, I started to enjoy the ride and the scenery. Everything gets very dramatic once you pass the outskirts of town and the road traffic drops to almost nothing. It's been fairly wet, so there were numerous rockfalls and debris on the road. Some of those rocks were rather large and my helmet wouldn't have made any difference had I the misfortune to be struck by one, but I wore it anyway. I have known too many people who have been seriously injured or killed from traumatic brain injury when riding without a helmet. I spent over 10 years wearing a helmet, mesh visor and earmuffs 10 hrs a day when tree felling, so wearing just the helmet is nothing to fret over.

Most of the rockfalls were small fist to bowling ball sized rocks, not big boulders like this - either way, you're just as dead if one gets you.

The scenery was dramatic. You ride along the raging river, Jiang means river in Chinese and Nu means angry, so it is literally a raging river. The volume and speed of the river as it crashes down the gorge is "invigorating," especially when you are pedalling 100 metres above it without much of a guardrail. Sheer cliffs rise up on both sides of the canyon and with all the rain we have had there were numerous waterfalls, a few of them just spontaneously gushing/spouting out of the side of cliff faces.

I did see a couple huts on the opposite side of the river and very dramatic side valleys that appeared as if by magic only once you were virtually alongside them - and the zip lines that provide access to them, but unfortunately saw no one zipping across the river on them. And there was the Tea Horse Road. It was part of the ancient great Silk Road network moving the tea of Yunnan to the world. It's worth looking up and there is a fantastic documentary on the internet showing it in use not more than 30 years ago. Ponies on zip lines, flailing wildly as they pass over the river...

Just a few kilometres from the Tibet border, this is the first working zipline I saw. It linked a small steep valley on the other side of the otherwise unpassable river. I'd like to think there are more of them further up the river...

Part of the ancient Tea Horse Road, chiselled out of the hillside over centuries.

Rockfall damaged and severly bent Tea Horse Road sign at the other end of a suspension bridge across the river.

Bike on Tea Horse Road. One horse wide, it's a straight unimpeded drop into the river below.

About 10 km from town there is a major police roadblock and checkpoint, as I knew there had to be - this is a road into Tibet afterall. They were stopping and interrogating all traffic and it seems taking extra time with the indigenous population, especially those Tibetans. I too proved a particular nuisance for them. Only when dealing with the police here do I find not speaking Chinese an advantage. How do you seriously interrogate someone when you can't communicate with them. I smile and act dumb, they look very serious and ask short sharp grumpy questions and I respond with a stupid smile... It can only go on for so long before they let you go on your way. Using the translation app the boss man had on his phone, they told me travel in Tibet was forbidden. Yes, of course I replied with a smile, but could I please just pedal up to the the actual border, just to say I had done it? In the past two weeks my poor brand new Australian passport has had about 10 years of wear and tear from all the poking and prodding it has endured at the hands of the Chinese police. I doubt if any of them could read English any better than I can read Chinese. But after 30 minutes of fumbling about, they let me pass on the solemn promise that I would soon return. I was travelling light with just one lightly loaded pannier; had I been fully loaded with tent and supplies I think they would have quickly turned me around. With all of the electronic surveillance and now 24 hr checkpoints and CCTV over the roadway at frequent intervals continually taking happy snaps of all road traffic, it is now pretty much impossible to sneak through Tibet on a bike, even in the dead of night in the middle of winter, as some cyclists have done in the past.

It was about another 20 km of fantastic pedalling in the rain to get to the border. There is no manned checkpoint, just a few strings of worn Tibetan prayer flags, a roadsign or two and a plaque in Chinese. A small roadsign states, "foreigners are not allowed in." I took many pictures, some with my Sony mirrorless camera, and I will backfill this journal with more photos once I get back to OZ. For now mobile phone snaps will have to do.

Prayer flags fluttering in the breeze, that is the border to Tibet.

That's me - smiling at the border, one foot in Tibet.

The pedal back was uneventful, including an additional 30 minutes with the border police as we went through the entire process yet again.

Every business on the mainstreet has a tap and hose out front and I used one of these to hose off my bike and bag before I got to the hostel. By the end of the ride, I was wringing wet with sweat from the waist up. I have a fantastic pair of expensive goretex rain pants that kept my lower half dry and mud free, but only a cheap rain jacket for the top half.

Aluo's hostel, though friendly and welcoming, has seen better days. Apart from the bunk rooms it is open to the elements and a trip to the squat toilets involves a raincoat or umbrella when it is raining. The roof in the common area leaks when it rains hard and there is no heating. There was no hot water when I got back, so it was a cold shower and warm up in the bed with the supplied electric blanket before a quick dash to the local noodle shop for a 20 yuan bowl of noodle soup.

So, the question is, "What do I do now?"

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Ken CochraneYou are amazing Victor that's all we can tell you just totally amazing.
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4 years ago

Victa CalvoHeadstrong, pig headed, high pain threshold - yes to all of those.
Amazing? Nah, just too dumb crazy to know better.
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4 years ago

Scott AndersonWhat to do now is the question, alright. What else is left, after sneaking across the Tibetan border? Can’t wait to find out.
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4 years ago

Victa CalvoTo Scott AndersonScott,
Thanks for reading. Your journals are a treat to read. Right now I have a very short term focus, just getting out of here will be an achievement.
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4 years ago