The Last Post

And so it come to this. The final entry in a year and a halfs worth of rambling. First things i first i must say thank you.

Thank you to the hundreds of people who have helped me out in some way. Those who fixed the bike, those who fed me, those who put me up. I ditched the lonely planet long ago when i realised that these expereinces were the ones that i will most cherish from the trip. The deapth of kindness shown from the very begining of the trip to the end has been incredible and the trip would certainly not have been possible without it. There is no way i can ever repay my grattitude other than to offfer thanks and similar help to those in need.

Thank you for the letters etc i have received over the course of the trip. Traveling solo has it pros and cons but lonelyness on the road can be one the latter. The words of encouragement and even just news from home ( good and bad) was a huge help.

Thank you to those reading this. I have tried to keep it interesting ( and without too many sware words). I has been nice to receive your comments.

Endings and Begingings
The last few days of the trip were in fact quite uneventful. The bike held up to his pasting on the Oodnadatta track very well. The puncture count still stands at less than 20 for the whole trip. I mannaged to get a new trailer tire in Clare in the nick of time as i had worn the old one down to the tube. Whoops! I Met my Mum and Grandpa in Clare, north of Adelaide and we spent the night there which was great. I was joined the following day by my brother and we cycled to the last 98km from the Barrossa valley to Stirling together.

After 4 days of sleeping in a bed ( the longest in several months) i am slowly getting used to the idea. When i could get to the bed that is. I arrived home to a year and halfs worth of mail and other junk piled on the spare bed at mums' place. Not waking up and feeling like i have been hit in the legs with a cricket bat is also super.

And from here? The bike will not go rusty as it will become my shopping trolly back in Alice Springs. The next trip is brewing: A traverse of the James Range, round the world by rotary hoe, africa, south america, Lada adventures ( i can ask to get it repaired in Russian now) But i think it may be time to spend a little bit of time in the one place



Cheers


Emrys

A penultimate post

I will save the reminising for what will be my last post in a day or two. In the meantime its time for a rant....

This time it is roadhouses that need to incur some roth and, quite frankly, they really can all follow the lead of the one in Larimah and burn themselves down!. Its not for the lack of beutiful suroundings, most are very well placed, it's for the universally appalling level of service at almost of them. Perhaps i should make a special t shirt that says "I always feel so welcome in your shop when you grunt and scowl at me when i walk in, it really makes me feel like spending money in your store" OR "mmmm the food tastes so much better when its sat in the warmer for a week" The list (in no particular order) goes something like this....

Wyclife Well- no mater how many aliens you paint on your buidling you really can't disguise the fact that it looks and feels like a bombshelter.

Frans' pie shop in Larimah- The only reason she is still in busniess is thanks to a kind lonely planet listing. $17 for a soggy microwaved pie and a glass of red cordial. I almost regurigitated it on the spot wqhen she gave me the bill. It's hardly so remote you cant get fresh food when a dozen refridgerated trucks go past a day.

Renner Springs- Even the staff working there thought the manager was a rude prick. Now that says something.

Ti Tree- Just for the shear number of very strange people both in front of and behind the counter quote "when i lived in timber creek we always new whgen the cops were coming to raid our dope crop coz they came to see Parks fiorst" ( worrying when that was the guy who will try to make your food)

Cober Pedy- not a roadhouse but a camera shop where the guy couldn't bear to pull himself away from the telly to even serve me.

William Creek- for such an iconic pub to be run by someone with such an unfriendly attitude is a shame. This was in fact a discussion i have had with several people since passing through.

Now at the risk of sounding like a misery guts i must give credit where it's due.

Adelaide river does have one of the most profundly beautiful and moving war memorials in Australia and is a credit to those who so lovingly maintain it

The Wauchoupe hotel. Far from the bessa block roadhouse, this place actaully has a history and more importantly service that would actaully make you want to return.

The Beltana Roadhouse. Wedged between the Prarie hotel to the south and Leigh creek to the north this place survies mainly because the people than run it are nice and, strangly enough for that reason, people keep coming back!

The list could be augementd but i shall leave it at that for the time being. My time on the Jamestown library computer will shortly expire and so it seems will my time on the road. I will head to Spalding tonight and then onto Clare tommrrow. Hopefully i will be in Adelaide on Saturday night. Who knows i might even be there in time to watch the final episode of The Bill.... or maybe not!

Mt Agung

My final two days of cycling in a foreign country have been a relatively easy affair. From one of the most abysmal, roach infested hovels I have ever stayed in in Banyuwengi it was a short ferry trip across the straights to Bali. Denpassar was an easy two days ride from here.

Kuta barely deserves a mention in this story. A place for overweight Australians to behave appalling badly. "You are in a foreign country, show some respect you muppetts!" "And put a shirt on you beer swilling yob, nobody wants to see you beer gut, REALLY!" 'nuff said

So now there are two of us. I met Guy when I surfed his couch in Vientiane and he has met me here in Bali and we are off to Climb Mt Agung, at 3142m the 50th tallest volcano in Indonesia but the highest on Bali.

Despite my reservations (“I reckon I can find my way") we have hired a guide for the exercise. We pick him up on the way to the temple that marks the start of the trek. Soon after we pick him up the battered old Kijiang (the same weight as a land cruiser with 1/4 of the engine capacity) splutters and stalls on the brutal gradient. We finally get out and walk the last five hundred meters and I am quite glad to get away from the smell of burnt clutch.

We begin the climb, past the temple and into the forest on the lower slopes. The trees eventually give way to smaller shrubs and then finally to rocks and lichen. Guy is doing a sterling job, given this is the first time he has been above 1000m. We are three quarters of the way up when he starts to really struggle. There is no track now and we are following our guide as he hops over rocks and boulders. Despite 5 weeks of training he finally reaches the point where he can't climb anymore and still make it down in one piece.

I face a somewhat awkward decision. Instinct tells me that we should all stop and not leave anyone behind. I also look at the conditions though. There is no snow, or extreme heat (it is the middle of the night) we have plenty of food and the guide and I can make it to the top in an hour. The guide suggests this and I trust his judgement. He has, after all, done this climb 15times in the last month alone.
And so we leave a cheerful Guy on a bed of branches with three jackets and three pairs of thermals.

The sunrise on the top of Mt Agung is incredible. As the sun rises I see the 300m drop off the lip of the caldera to the bottom of the crater emerge from the mist. The moon and stars slowly disappear from sight. To the west I can see Lombok and the second highest volcano in Indonesia rising out of the ocean. And to the east I can see as far as Java with Mt Bromo (another volcano) dwarfed by her two larger sisters. Below me I can see the run of the lava as it headed north to the Ocean. Mt Agung last blew her top in 1963 and still steams occasionally.

We have hot coffee and cake made by the guides' wife on the top. He teaches me much about Bali, mountains and life in Indonesia generally. Later on the way down he also becomes the first Indonesian man i have ever seen to pick up rubbish. An extra ordinary young man in many ways.

We find Guy where we had left him, sound asleep between two rocks. He wakes, a little cold but much refreshed and we begin the decent back down to the temple. When we finally reach the bottom we are both exuasted and even the guide looks a little tuckerd out. We had begun climbing at 1am and it is now 11am so it perhaps not so surprising.

Iggy's 6th and penultimate boat trip

And so it has come for the mad dash from the bottom of Sumatra, across Java to board my Bogan air flight from Bali. First there is the matter however of a rather deep stretch of water between Sumatra and Java know as the Sunda Straight.

I tried my hardest to get onto a cargo boat from Bandar Lampung but after several attempts i resolved to riding the hundred or so km to the very tip of the Island. I eventually arrived late in the afternoon and, after giving a rather aggressive homeless man my fried banana i had just bought, i rolled down to the ferry terminal.

1st, i try to get on the wrong ferry, without a ticket. Bad move! I find the correct terminal and pay the princely some of 10 000 rupiah for me and the bike. I look up and wince as i go through the turnstile- stairs. Lots of them. Thankfully one of the rather amused gate staff moves towards the trailer and pics up the wheel. We lurch, somewhat unsteadily up the stairs, up another set and then down the gangway to the hold.. Iggy is on board and i didn't even have to dismember him. Things aren't going to bad.

Igor catches the last of the Sumatran sun on the boat to Java.

Ramadan has started the day before. For those unfamiliar this is the month of dawn to dusk fasting from most things- water, cigarettes, food and sex. There are lots of hungry faces watching the beautiful sunset as Sumatra fades from view. When the sun finally dips below the horizon the food appears and so do the smiles.I soon meet a man and we begin to chat. His English out strips my meager Indonesian so we make do as best we can. He is an Engineer from South Sumatra on his way to Jakarta for business. He also has a van.......

(later)
I roll my thermarest out on the floor of the condo my engineer friend and his two colleagues have rented for the week. It is under the aircon and i sleep blisdfully until 2am when i wake to put more air in the slowly deflating mattress, every silver ling comes with a cloud i guess.

A 17% downhill gradient is not a nice thing to do to your brakes or your rims!

Bread vendors' van, Bandar Lampung

Fisherman casting his net, West Sumatra

Music to my ears

Music

I am now up to my third Mp3 Player for the trip. The first was stolen by some drunk Kazak women in Aqtube. This one contained most of the "pop" music, if you can call it that.

The second was stolen by one of the Orphan kids i was meant to be helping in Bishkek. Ironically this was my "classical" one and also had my teach yourself russian lessons on it. Ah the little blighter that stole that was in for a treat- there was no way to change the tunes anymore! I hope you enjoy your Bartock string quartets, you little runt!

And so i am on my third, very cheap one that i bought in China. It is cheap, really cheap. There isn't even a way to pick the tunes so i have to have the music in the same order everytime. As such things can get a little repeative so once in a while i have to wipe it and start again.

Even though i wipe it once in a while some artisits seem to make fairly regualar apearences .

• Tom waits seems to always wangle his way in there in some form or another.
• Strangley the Haydn cello concerto has also made several appreances.
• Paul Kelly, when i can find him, has been a regualr too.
• Rufus, Martha and Loudan Wainwright are all fairly regular attendees though this is mainly because everytime i ask Matthew to send me music that is what i get! Great stuff though and eminently cycleable.
• Luansa's crazy Irish fiddle playing and Bela Fleck's Banjo goodness to take the cake for cycleability though.

There are those who have been and gone but may yet return...

• Demis Russo and Nana Muskoori. Not sure what on earth possessed me to download them but it ( wince) wasn't so bad
• Soursob Bob. Comic genius though go a little overplayed at the start of the trip
• The Idea of North. Wiped, alas, and nobody puts them online.
• Slim Dusty and Chad Morgan. Slim in small doses, Chad even smaller doses.
  
• Chet Baker. If i ever need reminder that trupet players need teeth ( Chet lost his in a bar fight and a nasty heroin habbit) then this is it.
  

And then there are those that made a hasty exist......

The Mars Volta- talentless aurual masturbation!
Bartok string quartets- Beutiful, just not on a bike.
Lady GaGa- as per the Mars Volta. Though in an interesting twist my malfunctioning mp3 player cut her songs after 3 seconds, replacing her with Bach Chorals. Nice move Mr Mp3 player!
Mahler 9th Symphony. Likewise beautiful, if i was cycling in a coma!


Surf Dudes

As so it comes to how i am sitting and writting this from the west coast of Sumatra. Yesterday had some of the most brutal grandients i have had in a long time. I even snapped a chain trying to get up them! A nice camp on the beach last night turned into an abosolute deluge this morning which lasted much of the day. Stopping in the first town, Krui, i met an Australian surfer. The thought of my first decent conversation in a month and the torrential rain was more than enough to convince me a day off was in order. And so i am off to enjoy an icecream and a Beer, if i can find one. (Ramadan starts tommrrow) Volcano Swim, Central Sumatra

Volcano Swim, Central Sumatra

A Batavian Adventure

My time in foreign lands is fast drawing to a close, at least for the time being. In deciding to go to Indonesia i had to make a choice. There was the easy way- through the center of Sumatra and then to Java. Or the harder but much more interesting way over the mountains to the west coast of Sumatra meaning i would have to miss cycling most of Java. With a fairly high population density and, by all reports some seriously manic drivers and traffic, i decided i wouldn't mind "cheating" a bit through Java if it meant a nicer experience in Sumatra. Indonesia wasn't initially on my radar anyway but it seemed to tempting to miss. 

And so it is that i sit (almost) on the coast of West Sumatra. Gone are the calm waters i had in Malaysia and Thailand. It's a big heavy Indian ocean swell here. Even the water has a temperature less close to urine and something to actually cool off in.   The last 7 days have been quite a contrast. At 2500m i actually slept in my sleeping bag for the first time in months. Camping on the beach yesterday and listening as the breaker thundered i was rolling in my own sweat!  

I have until the 20th of August to make it to Bali. There i must give Igor and Bobbie and really good scrub and put them in a box. They will travel by freight ( hopefully) and i will meet them in Darwin. I then have a few days to climb some volcanoes and give everything i posses a though clean. I can sense the Quarantine dogs at Darwin airport as i write and i know the 2nd the inspector sees where and what i have been up to for the last year i am going to be in for a grilling. The plane arrives at 3am so hopefully its goes for long enough i can walk out into the daylight! 

What a beast! 

10000km from Bishkek
Ever wondered where cinnamon comes from?

FOOD

And it's time again for an edition of " what is that weird stuff you are putting in your mouth, Emrys?"

China definatly raised the weirdness quota a few notches. I think perhaps the duck tounge or the sheeps udder and mint soup take the cake, so to speak. The yak butter, yak cheese yak tea weren't to bad. Though the yak cheese did give me a dose of the runs.

Laos threw up every possible combination on the cooked bannana. Roasted, fried, curried and with coconut.

Almost every petrol station in Thailand has a 7/11 shop. In each of these is an ice coffee dispenser. Its amazing how well a litre and a half of cafine and sugar can make you cycle. It becomes slightly addivtive though as the only way to avoid "coming down" is to keep drinking the stuff!

Malaysia with its mix of Malay, Indian and Chinese certainly had choice. Though the choice was great it was all somewhat santised, rather like the rest of Malaysia. Good, flat roads but kind of boring too.

And now i am about to have another dose of Indonesian fried goodness. Last night my hosts ( a young man and his family) gave me Redang- kind of like beef jerky in Tamrind juice. The was also the ubiqutus chilli fried fish. Its slightly disconcerting when the catchfish looks at you!


Bon Appetite

Update:

I have just crossed the Equator which runs thorugh the middle of Sumatra. I am headed for Bukatingii, some volcanic lakes and a day off. From there i will head to the west coast and down towards Bandar ampung on the very southern tip of the Isaland. I will catch a ferry from there to Java and some more manic traffic. There is cycling in Indonesia and there is death....so far i am staying on the right side of the line!

A year on the road

The 16th of July 2009 was a fairly uneventful day according to the font of all wisdom ( wikipedia), nothing happened. It was however a rather monumentus day for master bike builder Georg's landlord as he nearly brained himself trying to help me and my horrendously overloaded bike down the stairs. He did, however, compose himself enough to wish the crazy Australian farewell as i lurched down the hill towards the Danube.

On the 5th of July western China erupted in violence. Shops were burned by Uygurs venting their frustation at Han Chinese. China responded by cutting the internet and sending in the troops. Meanwhile i arrived in Vienna to find locals sunbaking naked on the banks of the Danube while over weight mean rollerbladed in G Strings. Welcome to Austria!

On October the 2nd the international Olypmpic commitee decided to award the Olypmics to Rio de Janiro. I, meanwhile, was waiting to see if i would be awarded the right to enter Uzbekistan. As i turned out the ferry came first so i never did the chance to test the power of instanteus detnention on the Tahskent Subway.

My 27th birthday on the 12th of November was a somewhat lonely affair. Stuck in freezing cold Almaty waiting for a Kyrgz visa. The 19hour train trip to Bishkek did little to lift my spirits but the copius vodka that followed when i met Tim, my soon to be housemate did!

And on the 16th of July 2010... Our 1stm ranga prime minister and 1st shelia in the job sends us to the ballott box. And i celebrate a year on the road with a famous Penang Indian Curry!

After a year bobbie is starting to rust so its time for a paint job

To any English Teachers....

A lesson in the un-logic of the Englese language.

I have the oportunity to muse upon many things as i cycle along. The last day i have been wondering the following. What is the rule for changing country to a nationaility i.e I am from Australia therefore i am Australian. The logic for this one seems to be there- if the word ends in an A you just add an N. This works fine America- AmericaN, Bolivia- BoliviaN. Until you get to China that is.....

If i am from a country that ends in D the logic starts to get hazy. Iceland-Iclandic, Poland-Polish New Zealand- New Zealndish?????

If i am from France i am French but if i am from Greece and i am Greek and if i am from Venice then i am Venitian.

The stans start to get intersting too. Someone from Kygrzstan is Kyrgz likewise for Kazakstan and Uzbekistan. Try calling someone from Pakistan a Paki though and you will cause great offence as George Bush found out.

If it ends is L- Senagal- Senagalese but Isreal- Isreali

And as for Denmark and Holland.......

Update
However enough of my musings. I am now about 5 days from the Malaysian ( or should that ish. ese or ie) border. I enjoyed a swim at 6 in the morning yesterday when the water was slightly below the usual pee temperature. I am about to head back down to the coast and have another one having been inland for most of yesterday. My wrist is still a little sore from coming off the other day but is slowly getting better

Iggy nad bobbie get a facelift

Today has been a rather expensive day- a visit to a bike shop can sometimes do that. Iggy ( Igor) and Bobbie are now look so much hotter for it though. Iggy has a new rear tire and tube. I have had more flat tires in Thailand than the rest of the trip so i though it might be time for a new one. The previous one has just clocked over 7000km. He does still have the original front tire though.

He also got some very flashy new handle bar tape- aqua and black. After crashing into a parked motor bike the other day my wrist has been quite sore. Hopefully the extra padding on the new tape will stop the jarring a bit. The new front brakes may also help me to stop in time. I did notice the serious grove forming in my rim when i changed them though. I went for the " it'll get me home" option on that one though.

Bobbie now has a spunky new tire and tube as well. The tire is monstrusly fat kids mountain bike tire, way more heavy duty than i will ever need but will hopefully save me a few flats. I have had far more punctures in the trailer tire than in the main wheels.

I also have new gloves as the old ones, like most of my clothes have more or less rotted away.

now all i am looking for are some rear derailer pulleys but, as i have a 9 speed gear set, these are a little harder to come by.

Saunas and Massage

Sauna

Most people that visit Vanvieng are unlikely to remember it. This is not because it is a particulalry forgettable town. It is just that the majority of time that tourists spend here is done so under a haze of opium, Marajhuana or Lao Lao ( homemade Lao paint thinner come drink). Or a combination of all three. Vanvieng is famous for tubing which invloves the occsionally fatal mix of booze, drugs, rubber tire tubes and a fast flowing river. ....

It was with some trepidation then that i had arrived on a hot afternoon and looked for somewhere to stay. I finsih up sharing a room with a new zealnd guy. He arrives in at three in the morning blotted. He turns on the light and starts searching the top of the cubboard in the room. "What are you looking for" i ask. He tells me his mates left half a joint there the previous night. He goes out to smoke then comes back in and procedes to sleep naked, sheetless in the bed next to mine. I move hostels the next day...

My gear is in rather desperate need of a clean ( the bag smells like a dead animal) so i need somwhere to spread everything out. Finally I pick another hostel that looks like it has some space that i can clean my bike ( always important). I dump my gear and meet of few of the other travelers. The three Aussies in the group have a decidedly bogan edge. I cringe at there notions of "box ticking" travel- must always travel in a group, only eat food i would have at home and only socialise with other travelers and most importantly get the picture to show to your friends.

I spend the day washing anything and everthing. The bag is almost yellow again! The day ends on awesome note with a lemmon grass sauna with all the staff from the hostel.

Sauna Time!

It is without much sadness then that i leave Vanvieng early the next morning. The locals are hard at work, cleaning up from the previous night shenaigans. Being a bit over the hostel scene but needing to stay in Vientiene for a few days to sort my visa i have teed up a couch surf.

Massage

The Lao capitial Vientiene has the same laid back, easy going feel as most of Laos. Guy, my host for my stay, is a bit like the city he lives in, laid back, easy going with an off beat charm. He was born in Laos but spent most of his life in LA. He does an awesome job of showing me around the sights and sounds ( and eats) of Vientiene while i wait for my Thai visa. He also introduces me to Glee, a very trashy but very funny show about kids in a choir in the US.

The day after i arrive we head off for a massage. I have been a bit cautiuos to try this as i haven't been sure i won't get something "else" with the massage. Guy, however, assures me that this place is very professional and stays strictly above the belt.

2 hours later i feel like i have been beaten with the phonebook and then run over by a car. The dude took my poor hips joints to places even i havent taken them yet! And he seemed to get some kind of grim satisfaction from each wince that i gave. I spend the next hour or so wondering if the pain was worth. When i can actaully bend squat using my thigh muscles, however, i decide that maybe it was.

"Who is emrys, where is he? "

And so after a wodnerful 4 days in Vientiene i have now hit the road again. I have blasted through some rather falt and boring country in central Thailand and am about to hit the coast. The swim that i will have ( in the ocean) means i will have crossed the eurasian land mass and am starting to get a little bit closer to home....

What a month or two of cycling in the heat will do to your hands...

The politics of Aid

Laos is by most standards a poor country. Ridding through many of the smaller villages as i have been doing for the last few days this has been more than apparent. Even in some of the more touristy towns the realities daily life for many Lao are never more than a block away.
It is also one of the most incredibly friendly countries i have been to thus far on my trip. Rather than an expensive SLR camera jammed in your face on a sometimes hourly basis ( as occurred all too often in China) i instead have a stream of children running after laughing and screaming and trying to push me up the hill. Their parents and grandparents while not as active never the less show there encouragement with a genuine smile and a wave. Money in seems bears only a token relationship to happiness....

And so here is my dilemma i have been having the last few days. Almost all of the villages have aid projects of one kind or another. AusAid and World vision Australia work hard on water and sanitation projects but other governments, Italy, Germany, Japan to name a few also run a range of projects that in the villages from Eco- tourism to food relief and sustainability initiatives.

AusAid Funded water fountain in village

Several of the other countries i have been through have similar levels of poverty ( albeit more localised) None (that was as clearly sign posted at least) however have the degree of foreign aid that poors into Laos.

Why is that?

Having only been here for two weeks i am not entirely sure but i suspect some of it has to do with the aforementioned hospitality of the Laos people. In short Laos is an easy country to apply aid money too. And smiling, happy children make great photo shots. This is not to deny the fact that there is a clear need in many areas. It does however make me wonder about countries who have a similar or greater need but socially ( and politically) get put in the too hard basket. The generally relaxed nature of Laos society means that foreigners coming to the country to implement aid projects, with some basic cultural understanding, can get by pretty well. In other countries the range of social conventions ( behavior, social structure etc) that must be understood can make this much more difficult.


The other reason may also have to do with Laos' strategic position. While "western" countries are pumping money into aid, China is busy building Laos' roads but that is really a story for another day...

A brief update

I am now in Vieng Vang. I feel slightly old among the pubesect 18-20 year mobs of Brits and Aussies getting smashed while floating on tubes down the river. There is even an Australian bar here ???? Come to another country to talk to people from home and drink beer that is more expensive than you would find at home? Funnily enough i went for beer Lao and noodles for dinner instead. I will have a day here tomorrow ( the town may be horrid but the surrounds are quite nice) and then head to Vientiane ( the capital). I will spend a day or so getting my Thai visa and then head across Thailand. Looking forward to my first swim on the beach in almost a year!

Swim Time!

Welcome to Loas

I roll Igor up the ramp into the presusired, vacum sealed, HUGE, chinese border depature building. There is no one there, except a chain smoking German waiting for his car. The young man behind the counter looks suitably unimpressed at A. flithy bike and B flithy me. I try to keep things light by smiling politly. He snarls and scans my soggy passport through the machine.

The previous night i had made sure to back up some of the photos i had taken incase the serached my bag and camera. I had hardly had the chance to take any photos in the nuclear missle base before i was deported from so there i wasnt really too worried but who knows.

I has expected a similar type bag search to when i had arrived in the country 2 1/2 months earlier. The security gaurd had given up half way through as my gear smelt so bad. I hadn't washed in this time either.....

Some tooing and froing with his boss. " Can't we just let this dude go, he smells" i can hear the younger one saying. ( I had in fact showered that morning but my clothes, unfortunatly, didn't get the same treatment.

Bang, stamp. Goodybye. " Sweet" i say and roll out the other side.

I cruise down the hill to the Shed that is the Loas border crossing. I mill around for a bit ( like everyone else including the gaurds) waiting for the dude to come back from lunch. 10 mins, a piece of paper in my passport and $32 bucks later i am in Loas. I like this place aready. "muana" means fun in Lao and it has to be in everything if its to get done, bring it o n!


Power cable installation- Xinajiang Style

Sometimes you win, sometimes you loose.

I am sitting in a hostel in Shangrilla trying to respoke my wheel. My new hub has arrived ( eventually) on the bus from Kunming and the rest of my day is going to be spent fitting it. My concentration is broken by a middle aged man with long hiar. In a strong spanish accent he tells me he is also a cyclist and has been traveling for 7 years.

He proceedes to give me pieces of advice that i don't really want or need. He has been traveling for 7 years and apprently knows everything there is to know about bikes and travel, yada yda yada.

I've heard it all before and i start to zone out. He trys to flog me a new rear tire for $50 but i decide to ride the ones i have into the ground ( litterally and methphrocially). I try and give him what little advice i have about the way he is going but he only wants to lecture me ( and try to flog me his tire, again)

It never a good sign when you remove the casing over the hub and chunks of metal come out in your hand.....

(2 day later)

And so i stand at an intersection, about 250km south of Shangrilla. Of the advice the guy gave me the one bit i did take on was that one of the two roads i could take has some really bad road works. "dammit Emrys" i think to myself " the guy might have been a tool but you could have listen a bit more carefully". I only have a few days left to run on my visa and a kind of need to make the right descision. I mentally flip a coin.........My chosen method of transport for my next round the world trip...

(3 days later)
Maybe the coin should have listened more carefully too. The gamble hasn't paid off. I have lost a full days ride, am covered from head to tow in dust, mud and sweat, and my hands hurt from hammering over rocks the size of small dogs. My first serious tropical downpor greets me as a pshcyo dog latches onto my trailer wheel as i pass. Welcome to China!

A very short update

I have spent the last 2 days in Shangrilla in northern Yunnan province. The longer stay was somewhat unitntional but neccessary as the rear hub on the bike ( the one that powers the wheels) had completly shattered from the inside.

I was however able to get one sent up on the overnight bus from Kunming. I spent the best part of yesterday re-spoking the wheel- not the worlds easiest or most exciting job. It is now fitted however and i will be on the road to Litang this morning.

I only have 11 days eft to run on my Chinese visa so it is going to be a crazy run to get to the border in time. It will be a $50 fine for each day i am over which i dont really want! Hoprefully i can be a little less rushed once i get to Laos. The wet season has started hear and i think it will only get better ( or worse) as i head south. At least it will be warm......

9 days to get to Chengdu, easy!

I am in xixing, the capital of Qinghai province in western China. I have been incredibly fortunate to find a wonderful family to stay with. They are from Paraquay ( but german is thier 1st language) and they also speak Chinese. It is time to work out my route for the next couple of weeks. The easy option is to folloow the highway to Lanzhou, a ( by all accounts) rather grotty city to the east and then head south. The not so easy option ( but less kms) is over the edge of the tibetan plateu to Sichuan....

Manfred, my host, makes my descsion easier with his comments on Lanzhou and the possibilty of yak butter tea going over the mountains. On paper the roads are sealed.........

It is day two. It is late in the afternoon. I can see that the road is heading to a very steep pass. I have the option of staying at the bottom, This however means i start the morning with a brutal climb, Never a good idea. Once i start hopwever i really need to get over the other side to find somewhere sheltered to camp. I fill my bottle with titianium dioxide laced Tang and decide to go for it.

Looking down over the valley

At 8:15 ans in the dark i finally make it too the top. The buddist prayer falgs are falpping wildly in the fury of the wind the greets me as i get there. I swing around the bend and wince. ! 2 meter trench has been cut right through the midddle of the road . This may explain the lack of traffic further down! I unpack Igor and finally manage to get him around the ditch only to find the road now a a dirty track. I guess it was better on the way down. I ride a few kilomters downhill in the dark. Not having to worry about traffic in the morning i pitch my tent ion the closest patach of flat grass i can find next to the road, boil some vegies and noodles and collapse into bed.

The riad downhill. Its a fine life being a yak.

Time passes and i now have three days to reach Chengdu beofre my visa expires. I have crossed the edge of the pleteu and had tsmpa ( barley meal porridge) with yak butter and cheese. Looking at the map it is a couple of cruisy days, and all downhill. I come to the first big town......the bitchmen disapears to be replaced by......mud.

The power of Tsampa and Yak butter....

3 days and 300km of dirt road later i roll in Chengdu.

Delinqa

(another post added by Mum!)

I am cycling into Delinqa. It looks like a pretty interesting place. It has a large Mongolian and Tibetan population. On the road in I have seen several groups of people prostrating themselves (a Buddhist form of dedication) climbing the road up to the mountains. The town is surrounded by wheat fields too (I think) the first I have seen in China.
I ask at the first hotel if they accept foreigners. Technically we are only allowed to stay at 3 star and above which kind of blows my budget a bit. I get a very definite NO. I walk out, try a few more, to no avail. The chances of my first shower in two weeks are diminishing each time I get rejected. What kind of town is this???

I notice a police car is following me. Here we go I say to myself, and sure enough I get pulled over. This differs from the usual passport shenanigans however as I am hauled off to the station. I am informed in no uncertain terms that I must leave, by bus, now!
"I can't just ride out of town and have you forget about the crazy Australian on a bicycle???"
" We could lock you up and fine you, or you could get on the bus"
"OK, bus it is then............."

Now I am in Xining, having missed much of the province I wanted to see but hoping to try some Yak cheese tomorrow! The following perhaps may explain the paranoia of the police......

from Wikipedia
Delingha (Tibetan:??????????) is the capital of Haixi Mongol and Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture in Qinghai, China approximately 200km southeast of Da Qaidam. It is closed off to foreigners due to nuclear testing. It is the missile headquarter for Qinghai , and houses DF-4s with four associated launch sites. Delingha is one of five locations where anywhere between 10 and 20 DF-4's were deployed in 1998. The facility is the headquarters for one of launch brigades.

From here I will either head to Lanshau in Gansu or back of the mountains to Sehcuan and onto Chengdu. I hope, however, to find a map here in English as translating from the Russian one I have has not been going so well........

Welcome to Qinghai

(typed by Mum - Emrys can't access his blog in China - it is blocked)

It is late in the afternoon and I have just crossed the border in Qinqhai province in the far west of China. I have had a pretty good run with a tail wind for a good part of the afternoon. I am thinking about pushing on a bit to take advantage when the wind swings around. I am now riding into a dusty headwind with spots of rain............blow this.
I start to look for a campsite. It has been pretty desolate with very little cover for much of the afternoon. I am passing a lake off in the distance and I spy some pretty tall looking reeds on the lake shore. I hurl Igor down the slop off the edge of the road and head off down the embankment.
It is about 700m by the time I get there and the reeds are a good 3 meters tall and thick. I clean the grit from the gear using a pepsi bottle with petrol, make my bed an snuggle down.

Bang!

It seems the wicked witch of the west that I was protected from hast just had a house land on her. Glinda is back with a vengeance!!

I sit in my tent and listen in the dark and the wind accelerates. Sleep becomes impossible so for the next four hours I try to stop the tent from disintegrating around me. To her credit she holds up remarkably well, unlike my nerves. At about 1 I finally drift off, waking periodically as the gusts thump against the fly. Dust storm number two, welcome to Qinhai!

The Road To Osh is paved with good intentions....

Farewell to Bishkek

I am running late as per usual and by the time i arrive in front of the post office there is a posse of people waiting. Tim, Margreete and Laura are putting on a brave face after the previous nights drinking and dancing session went to 6 a.m. I had wisely or not declined the invitation!

The Bishkek posse: L/R Tim, Laura, Margreet, Berhardte, Ragula and Veronica

Also there are fellow cyclists Veronica and Mathius who are heading the other way and have given me a heads up on the road. Lastly there are my traveling companions, Berhardtte and Ragula. Swiss, they have put there respective maths and computer carreres on hold for a year and headed out around the world on a mean looking tandem they have called Sprinter.

An hour later we are lost on the way to the airport......things can only go up from here.

Later that evening we are invited to stay with a nice family. All is going well until the guy wants to borrow my bikу to go and buy vodka and cigaretes. While i am more than happy to let people ride my bike i am not so keen on the idea of someone ridding it in thee dark after several shots of vodka. He instead sits on the frame while i ride, safer i'm not sure but at least i will know where my bike goes this way!

Weightlifting, Kyhrgz style.

The Climb begins.

We are back on the road again after the midnight vodka run. The climb start somewhat gentlly in rather idelic conditions. Alas, "fool" say the gods of hills and weather.....

Accent number 1

Does altitude affect atibiotics?

When we left Bishkek i had still been getting over a rather nasty chest infection that i couldn't shake. It may have been from the half course of antibiotics i tried ( it was all i had, not coz i got better and stopped!). I now have some more hardcore stuff. As we climb my chest is still hurting though, i try vzaugly to recall at what height altitude sickness kicks in. I really don't fancy going back down the wrong side of the hill so we push on. Thankfully it doesnt get any worse and we soon hit the dreaded tunnel at the top of the hill.

We stop and cook dinner in the ambulance driver's house. His name is Gengis, a Kyrgz Christian from Karabalata. He has a facinaticing story to tell i think if i could only speak better Russian. We bid him farewell and I done one of Berhardtes surigcal masks as we hit the unveintilated tunnel. I dont tell Ragula about the deaths the previous year from when a car broke down мешдд after we are through...

100 meters from the end my bike begins to shake. This can either mean a broken фчуд or broken drawbar on the trailer. Either way its not the best place to stop. I managaged to haul Igor out of the tunnel eventaully to find it was simple the quick realse had worked loose.

The Decent:

Rugging up for the decent.

As we emerge from the the tunnel we look out over the Sussmeyer valley. It is a crystal clear day and from 3200m we look out over a white alpine valley. Due to the meters of snow we decide that the ski resort just below the pass is a good option.

The next day this doesn't seem like such a good idea. An blacnket of snow covers the bike and we spend 45m pushing the bikes uphill to the main road. The decent that, yesterday, seem so easy now becomes an arse brusing 3 hr slog to cover the 7 km to the bottom. Later Berhardte attempts to use tea to unfreeze his derailer. The water however, sets inside the mechanism soon after and he is reduced to 3 gears! I manage to bald Igor's back tire as the snow freezes inside the mudgaurd.

Trying not to fall on my arse again!!!

I am now however in the spring city of Osh. A days rest and will once again head to moutains. This time to Sary tash and then to the Chinese border. All before the 25th of March.

The Waiting Game

The sun is shining and it finally feels like springs may be on the way here in Bishkek. The temperature has cracked above the zero mark and the two weeks of accumalated ice and snow are melting fast.

My case of near pnuomonia is likewise clearling with the weather ( and a good dose of antobiotics). The waiting game is now on.....

Waiting for another kyrgz extension. Done! Have another month to go.

Waiting on Chinese visa. This goes on till next week after the end of Chinese new year and the emabassy reopens

Waiting on the weather to clear. It seems this may be on the way. Though we have had at least one false spring in Janurary where i was walking aorund in a Tshirt in anticipation only to get blasted by a week of snow and ice.

Waiting on a few bike parts from Holland.

Waiting to get back on the road. It has been nearly three months and the feet are starting to get rather itchy!

Where do ants sleep and other useless facts....

It’s the big night. I have decided to hang my limp reputation on the line and try to get the Alpine Fund kitty looking a little less battered. My choice for such an event, well what else does a guy with a mind for useless information (and not much) else do……. A quiz night of course!

Frieder, the master of Bishkek’s social networks and pseudo boss of the Alpine fund has been busy emailing for the last week. Richard the owner of the Metro Bar who is hosting us has likewise been harassing his clientele. Now it’s just a waiting game to see if anyone turns up.

Tim, my slightly crazy (former) housemate and I do a final check of each other questions. He is convinced that my music questions are impossible and I am likewise skeptical of anyone’s ability to compute his maths and engineering head-wreckers. Master Judge, Magreet ( who is in fact a judge in real life), puts on her sternest face and prepares to do battle with anyone that challenges her authority. The judge’s decision will defiantly be final!

Richard and Frieder have clearly done a good job of harassing anyone and everyone as the turn out is great!

Round 1 begins……… then it stops………then it begins again…then it stops…….Finally we coax the rather temperamental microphone into life and its game on.

There if good sport between all the teams with Team Canada drawing to an early lead.

There is a challenge to one of my questions. The successor to Julius Cesar as head of the Roman Empire? I concede and accept any of Octavian’s plethora of pseudonyms. Everyone is fallible even my Wikipedia source material!

After 9 rounds the scores are incredibly close. It the end it is a lack of knowledge of anatomy- name the body parts- that loose Team Canada the crown.

I kick back for a rather expensive beer afterwards- the metro bar is the main expat hangout in Bishkek and it therefore usually out of my price range. I savour the one beer i can afford before heading home for a good sleep!

Itchy feet

Emrys has now been in Bishkek for two months. He has been enjoying the trips to the mountains as welll as the teaching and generally making a nusisence of himself. 

He was however sittting at the kitchen table in his shed of a house the other day and noticed Igor sitting rather forelornly in the corner- his tires flat and a growing layer of dust from the festy coal fire growing over his once shiny gear changes. His companion, Bob, is likewise growing rust of welds as she waits paitently to recconect with the road. 

His body is now well and truly rested and he has even put on a kilo or two. It is very definatley getting time for him to be moving again! Alas the snow will once more decend on bishkek this fine day and he shall resume the waiting game. 

He has been stuying his new maps of China in close detail ( well as close you can at 1 to 6 million scale) and doing his darndest to find someone else stupid enough to cycle with him for some of it. 

The Itchy feet might just been the tiniea as a result of infrequent showering...... 

Surviving Almaty

I have just been to the national musem of Kazak instrument in Almaty. I am here to chase visas so figured i would make the most of it an see some sights while i was here. I emerge from the warm building and step back into the snow. Across the way is the war second world war memorial. It is a stricking momument with all off the nations of the former USSR represented. Set someway in front of this is an eternal flame. I take a rather arty picture of the monument through the flame and then decide to take a walk through the park behind....

I here a voice call out and see a policeman beckoning me over. This will be the second passport check in two days as he asks for my papers. My visa is in order so i dont really anticipate any trouble. He keeps my visa and motions for me to walk with him. He takes me back to where i had just taken the photo. Apparently there is a porblem because i put my foot on the base of the monument to take the photo. I appoligise profusly for my mistake but he wont buy it. He wants to take me to the police station. Now i start to drag my heals.

He takes me and points to a CCTV camera implying that he has evidence. The camera points the wrong way i and i severley doubt it still has the ability to rotate to have filmed me accidently placing one foot on the monument. He wants me to walk with him but i want to keep this in the open. He asks me if i am carry narcotics or a rifle. I smile and say no. He wants me to open my bag. Now i sense that he really has nothing and that he is just fishing. I hold my ground, saying i cant give him the money now starts demanding as i dont have any.

I am starting to shiver now from standing around in the cold. The same questions, the same answers. He has nothing on me and he knows that i know this. Its rather like a poker game- whose is going to call bluff.

Eventaully he tires of my bad Russian and decides i am not worth his effort. I somewhat cheekily offer to shake his hand as he lets me go. Crooked cop nil Emrys one!

The New years visit to the Dacha

It is Sunday morning in Bishkek and the week of New years Shenaigans has begun to draw thankfully to a close. I am meeting with Salavat, one of the interns from the Alpine fund and we are off to go food shopping. We have 11 children and 2 adults to feed so i am glad when i spot the director in her car. I wasnt't looking forward to cramming it all on a bus!

The food looks enough to feed a small army- 24 loafs of Lipioshka ( Kygrz bread) 4 blocks of cheese, 2 dozen eggs, 1 kg of potatoes, salted capsicum, dill and assorted other bits and pieces- but i am sure it will be devaoured in short order. When we are done i leave Salavat to go and pick up the children while i jump on a packed marshrutka and head up to repair a few things at the Dacha before the kids arrive.

The previous weekend Tim ( my housemate) and I had made one of the windows into a fire escape. When i arrive i note the butchering job we did on the window frame and try to make a mental note to buy some putty to cover it up. I nail some of the loose planks on the front deck and soon after hear voices. 7 girls and 3 boys plus Abdibek (my english student) decend on the Dacha.

The next two days are a riot of excitable children. On the first afternoon i watch as they make tobbogans out of anything they can find ( plastic bags mostly) and hurtle down the slope a short walk from the Dacha. The following day they return to the dacha battered and bruised- nothing malacious- just the result of a day spent ice skating.

Monday night is a games night. I rack my brains for ideas that will work in the confined space of the Dacha. The kids have a ball trying to circumnaviagte the table, trying to move a box of matches while supporting themselves with one hand and playing coin soccer. Salavat also has a host of games which i hope i can remember for the next time i am there.

On their second night, exausted from the absence of sleep the night before, the kids sleep soundly. I am the first up and have said i will cook pancakes. They are all done and it is 930 and the kids are still sound asleep! I send the one awake boy down to the spring to fill up the buckets with water. They eventaully emerge and scoff the rather heavy (you cant't but Self raising flour in Kygstan) pancakes in short order.

The weather has turned a bit average and so we do some more games inside. Soap hockey nearly ends in a brawl so we end that rather qucikly. Refelcting i dont think it ever did not end in a fight whenever i played it either! Note for next time. A blindfold obsticle course in the garden and another run of tobogoning and its time for me to leave. I am off to the Kazak emabssy to pick up my visa. The joys of visa's in ex-soviet states in a story for another day...

"Thank you (for) making us smile" says the poster that the kids have hung on the wall in the Dacha. "Thank you for making me smile" i say to myself as i look at some of the crazy pictures the kids have taken with my camera.

www.alpinefund.org