Heading South

So where were we when I left last time off?

Ah yes, that's it - getting my new wheel hub. I'd ordered the replacement hub I'd desperately needed before Christmas and returned to find that not only was the hub not at the shop, but that it hadn't even been ordered yet. Customer service was definetely not this guys forte but as his was the only half decent shop in Vientiane I was pretty much stuck and he said to come back tomorrow and he'd try to weld it.

He didn't show up.

I went back the next day: 'Ah yes, leave the wheel now and come back tomorrow'.

On the 4th morning he finally reappeared only to tell me the welding hadn't been a great success, that I would have to tread lightly to Phnom Penh and that 'You won't get the hubs or the inner tubes (I needed some replacement tubes) outside of Bangkok round here'.

Happy just to be leaving Vientiane I set off on the wobbly wheel, accompanied by Jean and Francoise, a father and daughter cycling together around South East Asia whom I had met in Vang Vieng and with whom I'd hoped to cycle to Phnom Penh with.

This didn't last long as 6 kilometres out of Vientiane my back tyre blew, and as they dissapeared off into the distance I was left to trudge back to town, check back into the hostel and, with tail firmly between the legs, head back to the bike shop to get a replacement tyre.

True to form, he didn't have one. But I did manage to get a fairly worn out tyre off of a pile of old ones - it looked in terrible condition but in truth I had no choice so on it went, and the next morning I was off into southern Laos - the first flat land I'd seen in pushing 3 months - and here I was on a broken hub and a rubbish tyre. Going painfully slowly with other cyclists flying past me, the closest thing I can liken it to is being behind the wheel of a fast car but not being able to quite reach the accelerator.

Putting on the dodgy tyre

I thought I'd lost my French Canadian friends because of the extra day lost, but after meeting some Dutch cyclists coming the other way I was told that they'd taken a day off in the next major town along so I pushed on, caught up with them and although the hotel was fully booked Jean and Francoise were kind enough to let me sleep on the floor of their room that night. However all my effort seemed in vein the next morning as we set off together on the road to Cambodia, only to find that with these guys, carrying around 30kg less weight than me, were a hell of a lot faster! They'd dissapeared over the horizon twice before I admitted defeat and we arranged to meet in Seno, the next town, later that day.

Once again, it didn't happen.

28 km short of Seno the hub finally bit the dust entirely. The realisation that I hadn't ridden a fully functional bike since mid November set in and I was left to flag down a truck to take me to the next town.

An all too familiar sight by now

But I didn't stop there - knowing I couldn't get the parts I needed in Laos I went right on a further 28km Savannahket, the border town with Thailand. This was easy to do as visas aren't required to enter Thailand, so I figured I could enter here, order in the parts I needed from Bangkok and be on the road maybe in a weeks time and head in 'the back way' to Cambodia and Siem Reap. It turned out however that like most of the things the Frenchman who owned the bike shop in Vientiane had told me, his idea that I wouldn't be able to get the parts I need outside of Bangkok was, for want of a better word, bullsh*t. The town I crossed to had not one, but 2 quality bike shops where I was able to not only select from a range of hubs, but also pick up some much needed inner tubes and in the blink of an eye I was back on the road.

Putting on the new hub

Let me make this clear - I have never wanted to visit Thailand.

I know you should always travel with an open mind but for me this was difficult: we all know the stereotypes, particularly about the type of 'tourist' that Thailand attracts and some of the behaviour that goes on in this part of the world. As opposed to trying to form a coherent opinion on it all based on experience, in planning I'd simply preferred to stick my fingers in my ears, shout 'lalalala' and not go.

But now here I was - in Thailand. And to my surprise I really liked it! Yes, I did meet some unsavoury characters from different parts of Western Europe, and yes I saw a fair few Western men in their 40's, 50's and even their 60's with young Thai girls on their arm - particularly painful to see was some of these western men doing their utmost to avoid contact with a fellow westerner; crossing the street when they see you coming, avoiding eye contact, doing their utmost to avoid conversation - read into that the level of pride these men have in what they're doing out here.

But when you get past that I had a great time - the food was great, the people friendly and there was even paved roads, so with a full stomach and functioning wheel I was back on the road.

As I said earlier I'd hitched 56km to the border in Laos - and so with that when it was time to start cycling again I went back to the border, cycled 28km the wrong way and then the 28km back to the border (no-ones going to accuse me of cheating on this!) and then off on the flat roads of Southern Thailand.

Of course by now I'd given up on the idea of cycling with Jean and Francoise, but in the middle of my second day on the road in Thailand I got an e-mail:

"Hi Matt, How's it going? We got lost and couldn't find the border between Laos and Cambodia so we've decided to head into Thailand and cross the back way into Cambodia. Maybe see you on the road"

Apart from asking the obvious question (In a country that only has one road how the hell can you get lost and not find the border?) I was delighted - with my new wheel and good roads I was now flying and doing over 100 miles a day so reckoned I could give them a run for their money on keeping up this time. However they had e-mailed 2 days previously and hadn't planned where they were going to stay - my calculations had them at either 40 km ahead or 40 km behind me. With that in mind I pushed on and after another day of over 100 miles I stopped to check my e-mails to see if they'd been in touch to tell me where they were. They hadn't but I lost track of time and when I finally left the internet cafe it was pitch black - in need of a place to sleep I cycled out of town (I was 30km from the Cambodia border) and sat down in a countryside bus stop.

I thought I hadn't been seen but soon someone came over - I lied and said I'd be carrying on soon but I knew she didn't believe me, and when she said she was a police officer I knew that any say in where I would stay that night had just dissapeared. I feared being taken back to town and forced to pay for a hotel but to my surprise I was taken to the Police Station.

Hastily, a make shift bed and a mosquito net were erected on the balcony, I was shown where the shower was, offered a cup of tea and as such my last night in Thailand was spent asleep on the balcony of Pursat police station! Fair enough, the service wasn't quite as good as the Police Station I'd stayed in in China (kidding!) but when I woke up I was greeted by a breakfast of Thai Green Curry, Rice, Dried Fish, Marinaded Boiled Eggs - even Nescafe!

Breakfast Thai Style

I made my way to the border, surprised at myself that for a country I'd never wanted to visit, I was a bit dissapointed to be leaving.

The border at O Smach

The Cambodian border at O Smach is famed for corruption, so I was amazed at how I'd managed to get through without any problems in just 20 minutes - until a further 20 minutes down the road when I realised I had infact got my exchange rates wrong and had just conned myself out of $13. Hmmmm.



The Cambodian side was a different world: the road dissapeared, replaced by a dirt track, it was obvious for all to see how poor and how little the people on these back roads had and most harrowing of all was the constant reminder that you shouldn't stray from the footpaths due to there being anywhere between 4 - 6 million land mines still in the countryside.

I got the impression they didn't see many foreigners on the back roads in Cambodia

Another day, another struggle through bad roads before arriving at the highway. The National Highway was the last 50km to Siem Reap and the famous temples of Angkor - I thought it would be plain sailing - I was wrong. I later found out that one of the worst kept secrets in Cambodia is that a certain airline pays certain Cambodian Authority figures to keep the road in bad condition so people would fly instead - welcome to the way Cambodia functions.

Around 30km from Siem Reap I heard a voice from behind me - after 4 days of wondering where they were Jean and Francoise had caught me up. They were still faster than me but we all rode to Siem Reap together, found a hotel and had a well earned rest.

New friends - Jean and Francoise

After the day off we were off to SE Asia's main tourist attraction - the famous Temples of Angkor (where Tombraider was filmed, for the younger readers out there). Although impressive enough, you get the feeling a day here was more than enough and that the whole experience would have been more rewarding were it not for the thousands of other tourists stood around saying 'oooh look how beautiful it is' and the following day it was off on the road to Phnom Penh.

My Dad had arranged a friend for me to stay with in Phnom Penh and we'd set a time of 11 am to meet - this gave me 2 and a half days to cover the 300km. This would have been a push anyway but just at the end of the first days riding, just as the light was about to go and I was looking for a place to camp, the dodgy, worn out wheel I'd put on in Vientianne blew. I tried to sneak out of the town it happened in to find a place to camp and fix the problem in the morning but I'd got barely 50 metres before a local came over and pointed me to follow him.

He took me to his house, where I met his wife and 3 children and between us we fixed the puncture and put part of an old tyre inside the broken tyre to cover up the hole in there. I wasn't sure if it would work, and when I went to test it he told me to wait for the morning as it was to dark.

Attention now turned to where I could sleep - I was laughed at when I asked if I could camp in his garden and with that a 3rd mosquito net was erected up stairs and that night I slept in the same room as the entire family, enjoying a raw fish dinner and even acting the English Teacher for the cheeky little scamp in the picture below!

The next morning it was up and out, and it wasn't long before the tire blew again! This time the locals I was with decided instead of one, to put two old tyres inside and hope for the best. It held for the rest of the day, but after pushing it to hard I was once again left to look for a place to sleep in the dark.

How the tyre looked when I finally made it to Phnom Penh

My luck was in when I spotted a barn under construction about 50 metres back from the side of the road with a hammock already erected in. My time in China, where camping had been hard, had taught me how to not only find places to sleep in urban areas, but also how to get to them without being spotted: I pulled over to the side of the road under a tree, waited for the car headlights to dim and walked along the darkened wall to the hammock.

I was sure I hadn't been seen and duly fell asleep.

I was wrong - half an hour later someone (I don't know who) came over and woke me up and shone a torch in my eyes, at which point I learned another valuable lesson - the importance of looking weird. After the torch had shone I bolted up right, he took one look at the foreigner, who hadn't shaved in months, wearing only cycling shorts and socks, asleep in a hammock by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

He stopped, rubbed his eyes, muttered what I can only assume was the Khmer for 'I need a lie down' and left me to my new home.

So there we have it - the next morning I was up and out - the tyre held and I rolled into Phnom Penh with 10 minutes to spare and to be fair to John there are fewer better sights than arriving to see a QPR shirt in a far away place (pictures up when I get my card reader working!).

Note to anyone who anyone who is considering hosting in the future - this is how to dress!

I'm here for a couple of weeks so the next up date may be a while, but enjoy the snow I hear you've been having back home and I'll enjoy the 30 degree weather out here.

More pictures to follow

Watching as the wheels come off

Greetings and a happy 2009 to all!

After realising I hadn't written for so long when I wrote the last blog an early New Years Resolution was to get more writing done - unfortunately that ended up coinciding with a 2 week lay-off from cycling (but we'll come to that in a bit) so here we are, 1 month down the line and finally the next blog is here!

But where were we last? Ah yes, Kunming - a strange place for a Chinese city; clean, relatively quiet, friendly and multi-cultural - like none of the other places I'd seen in China and for once I was meeting local people who spoke English and weren't trying to sell me things.

This was great for me as I finally got the opportunity to pick the locals brains on certain issues and as over the journey I've perfected the art of getting people to talk about their local communinites and issues without giving too many of my own opinions away I was able to find out what the young people I was sharing the Hostel with thought of their country and of the current situation in China.

I have to admit I was slightly surprised by the ecclectic mix of responses I got but a few things stood out more than other and the three main topics people wanted to talk about were:

1) Learning English - Why do Chinese people want to learn English? Based on the people I spoke to it was so they could leave China. Why did they want to leave China?

2) Parents - Thanks to the 'One-child' policy that used to be in place you have a fair few who are desperate to escape the view of their parents. I met people who had been told they couldn't visit certain countries, wouldn't be allowed to go on 'dangerous' cycling trips and some people who were still having to call home at certain times of the day to let their parents know where they were, even though they were into their 20's.

3) Tibet - Now here is the one people love to talk to about. 'China deserves so much credit for what we have done there', 'Without us Tibet would be nothing', 'For what the Chinese have done in Tibet, we are heroes' and 'You shouldn't shop at Carrefour because of what Sarkozy said about Tibet'.

You get sick of it very, very quickly.

Nationalism is ingrained into people in China from such a young age (anyone who disagrees only needs to look at a Chinese school and see the massive murals of military personnel saluting the Chinese flag towering over every set of school gates) and it was dissapointing to see that the Chinese Propoganda machine had seemingly had such a high success rate in the average people I met in China.

I foolishly did try to offer an alternative (ie a Tibetan) point of view on the whole situation and it took all of 2 seconds to realise this mistake and I decided it was best not to get involved in a discussion with people who's minds were largely closed and instead I got back to my plans for the ride to the Laos border.

I'd heard a lot about the hills of Yunnan but I thought it would be simple enough - I'd taken on the sandy deserts and the snow-capped mountains so how hard could a few hills be? Well it turns out very, very hard and after 6 days of covering barely 40 miles each day I was still 4 days away from the border and it's here we need to travel back through time to the last blog and talk about the chain tool.

One of the less glamorous places I've stayed

A chain tool is a small tool which takes out links of a chain, enabling you to swap chains etc. The chain tool I had left home with had broken in Chengdu. The problems I had had previously were because I didn't have a chain tool with me. Therefore you'd think the common sense thing to do in Kunming at a bike shop would be to buy a new chain tool, yes?

It would be hard to disagree with that logic, however I knew that in Vientiane I had a package waiting for me which had in it a brand spanking new chain tool and after looking at the meagre ammount of money I had in my wallet, the cost of the repairs I had already had to have done, the likelihood of the chain breaking again and finally, the plummeting pound (the exchange rate dropped 20% during my 3 months in China) I decided to go against splashing out on a tool I would theoretically never use.

Clever me.

Some days in cycling the world can't get any better - the sun is out, the birds are singing and even the drivers don't seem to be aiming for you as much as usual. My sixth day out of Kunming was one of those days, and then in the space of 5 minutes my front gear mech fell apart, my chain snapped and I nearly broke another rear derailleur.

When researching quotes for this trip I'd always liked the one of "It's scary when there's no-one else to blame" and as I walked the 3km uphill to the next town this was ringing in my ears, only with the word 'scary' replaced by 'frustrating'.

Once there I was lucky enough to find a local mechanic who managed to put the link back together using a hammer and chisel but I knew it wouldn't hold and I was now treading on eggshells until I got to Laos.

After this I'd realised how desperate I was to leave China as I hadn't stopped to talk or get a photo with the guy who'd fixed the chain and I'd left without saying much more than thank you - I was now very, very ready to leave China.

Elephants - renowned for drink driving

And as such, treading on my pedals as lightly as possible I was able to cycle very slowly, all day, everyday for the next 4 days and after a mountainous 140km day I finally arrived at the border town of Boten in the dark. It was getting late when I arrived, and with barely a penny to my name I spent my last night feasting on my last pack of biscuits before falling asleep in a shop doorway. It somehow seemed fitting.

The last night in China

Just like my last border crossing I was up early and the first over the border and after encountering what must be the most laid back border in the world on the Laos side (1 guard, no weapons, no blockade and your ushered through this as the part where you get your visa is 50 yards further on) I was free to enjoy what was a personally big moment from me - I was in Laos! That's Laos - In South Asia!

It took a minute to settle in that when I'd planned my original trip that SE Asia was pretty much the end point - and here I was - it felt good but at the same time I was very happy I'd decided not to stop here!

And then I was off into Laos and all I can say is wow - what a difference, the place is amazing! The contrast to China in just the 10 miles over the border was mind boggling. People no longer stood at the side of the road shouting 'foreigner' at me, instead they were waving! Shouts of 'Sabaiiiiiiiideeeeeeeeeeee' (hello) came from all around, people took an interest in the bike and in turn I got the pleasure of their company. Children no longer stood dumbstruck at the sight of foreign man with a different colour skin, instead they were all running after waving and lining up for rows of 'high fives' as I sailed through their villages!

The carnival atmosphere stayed throughout all the little villages as over the next 2 days it seemed you couldn't pass through a small town without seeing another gathering somewhere or other - however it wasn't just the locals that were different, I was meeting other cyclists too! Laos is full of them - on my first night in the country I met The Velomads in Oudomxai, with them even helping me find a great place to camp outside the local monastery and I've lost count of the number I've met since then.

Some of the better Laos sleeping spots

However back to the ride and the one thing Laos was not is flat, and on my 3rd day in the country the inevitable happened. The broken link was put under to much strain again and this time it wasn't just the link that snapped.

The link snapped, went into my derailleur, which in turn went into the spokes, which in turn ripped my hub apart. Woops!

It had happened 110 km north of Luang Prabang and I was now left with no choice than to hop on a Sawngthaew to get there. I didn't find what I was looking for there (although I did bump into Matt and Mary again, a couple I'd met in Kazakhstan) so after a couple of days rest I had to hop on to a night bus to Vientiane, only to find that the only shop selling good quality components was closed for the next 5 days due to the Laos national games! Great!

After a 5 day wait I was able to get the bike road worthy again, only the hub couldn't be replaced as one had to be ordered in from Bangkok, and with that I asked the guy to order one in and hopped on a bus back to where I'd left my luggage in Luang Prabang.

It just so happened that this had co-incided with Christmas Eve and with the inevitable delays I then arrived back in Luang Prabang at 11.45 pm and I then woke up at 7 am Christmas morning - in a bus station!

Christmas Dinner

A fairly quiet Christmas which mainly consisted of continuing my Cornetto-Beer diet came and went and the day after Boxing Day I was back on the road - taking 2 days to cycle the 110km back to where my bike had broken, and then the 110km back to Luang Prabang (This more than made up for the small cheat section in China!) and then it was on towards Vang Vieng for new years.

After 2 frustrating weeks off the bike it felt good to be back riding again, and on the 29th of December, exactly 8 months to the day since leaving home I had the satisfaction of watching my odometer hit 10,000 miles and in turn, my high spiritis hammered back in to place with 3 different climbs of 16km, 20km and 18 km as I slaved my way towards the New Years I deserved.

Vang Vieng is a place that had been slated by pretty much everyone I met: A hole full of people who had flown half-way around the world to get as drunk as possible and sit in a bar all day watching Friends.

Any other time I really wouldn't have gone, but arriving at 6 o'clock on New Years Eve when I hadn't had a proper night out as such since my first day in Kazakhstan I was ready! The night came and went (I think) and on the 1st of January 2009 I woke up, decided not to cycle and spent the next 8 hours in a bar watching Family Guy.

I hadn't had a hangover in nearly 5 months, I hadn't had a proper cheeseburger in longer - I felt I'd earned the veg-out day but I have to be honest, I couldn't have stayed for longer - it really isn't a nice place to travel (and it's depressing that at the age of 22 you see people getting wasted in the street and think 'I'm too old for this') so the next day I moved on and coasted the 150km to Vientiane - which is where I'm writing from now!

So there we have it - welcome to 2009! I promise to try to keep the blog a bit more up to date over the next year (and I've set a target of £5,000 to raise by the end of the year so any help with that is appreciated!) and also thanks to my Bulgarian friends I've also got a shiny new website on the way (with more and better pics too) - so please keep reading and keep the e-mails coming in as I'm enjoying the ones I've got so far!

Ok, signing off now so a happy new year to all - here's hoping the best of last year is the worst of this.

More Pics!

Above and below - Cyclists everywhere




Painting the town in Luang Prabang

No idea what this is, saw it at a Temple and liked it!

10,000 miles - satisfying!

You can call me Jonah

Before we get going a quick thank you to my Uncle John for this months blog title and for pointing out I know have the following proud record:

Leave Belgrade - 1 week later rioting spreads through the city
Leave Istanbul - 1 week later terrorist attacks on the US embassy
Leave Georgia - 2 weeks later a war is in full swing
Leave Osh - 1 week later the city is hit by an earthquake measuring 6.6 on the richter scale

So watch out China!

But back to the trip - sorry for taking a while to write another blog but it's been difficult, particularly as my website is banned in China! But the last time I was in contact was in Kashgar: the 4 days I spent there were excellent. Having come in from laid back Krygyzstan to be in a proper city, with the hustle and bustle was a culture shock and the moment the sun went down the city transformed with the Uighur influence coming out in the form of the nightmarket.

An Uighur man makes pastry parcels stuffed with minced lamb at Kashgars night market

The market offered all the usual kinds of fruit and vegetables you'd expect - but the real treat was the freshly cooked food: Fish grilled and served on skewers, boiled eggs in a rich spicy sauce and other Central Asian dishes with an Uighur blend such as stuffed meat dumplings with that extra bit of flavour - all served on the amazing backdrop of the liveliest night market I've ever seen. Me and Alvaro both agreed that coming here from Krygyzstan felt like stepping off a plane, and the closest thing we'd ever seen to what lay before us was the main square in Marakesh.

But after a couple of days of eating far to much food whilst my body recovered fromthe Krygyz mountains and my behind recovered from the Krygyz roads I was left to square up to the task in front of me. I hadn't planned to go through Central China, in fact the original purpose of the trip was to go to Tibet, however a combination of the Chinese government and the weather meant that central China was my only choice. With a 2 month visa and 5,500 km to cover a part of me had hoped to do without having to extend my visa, however this idea quickly died as 20km out of Kashgar, having just said my goodbyes to Alvaro aswell as the other cyclists I'd met in there I was hit with the first serious illness of my trip.

If you've ever had either a migraine or giardisis, you can imagine how pleasant it is having both at the same time but that's exactly what happened and perhaps more frustratingly help wasn't on hand. I spent the first night in a ditch being sick hoping to get it out my system, before limping towards the next town the following day - however it soon became apparent my body was in no condition to stand up right, let alone ride a bike. I tried talking to locals but the language barrier was too much so I took a more straight forward option of going for the sympathy vote by lying down as pathetically as I could by the side of the road and letting passers by see the sick mess I was. This didn't work either and it was 18 hours before any of the people who had watched me all day came over, and even then the man in question simply put his hand on my forehead, felt my high temperature, shook his head in sympathy and then walked off and that was the last I saw of him! I realised I needed to move and spent the next 3 days to cover the 65 km to the next town where I took another 3 days to recover - not a great start to my time in China (for those of you wondering why I didn't go back to Kashgar please note that common sense isn't something that's overly welcome on this trip).

But fully recovered and rested it felt good to fly off on the less travelled southern silk road - a 3,000km long road to Xining with the first 1,500km in the Taklamakan Desert. I have to say I loved cycling in the desert: Good roads, sunshine beaming down on me all day every day, flat as a pancake meaning I could cover 130km upwards without breaking sweat and best of all weather good enough meaning I could sleep at night without the tent - giving me the best view of the stars it's possible to have.

Sleeping in style

And with only one road to follow it should be impossible to get lost, right? Oh if only it were that simple - in the town of Cherchen I'd had to come off the main road to stock up on supplies and when trying to get back on course I'd trusted the 2 things I really should know that I can't trust by now - locals directions and Chinese road signs - and pretty soon I'd gone 40km in the wrong direction into a dead end in the desert. Not fancying cycling back to where I needed to be in a strong headwind I hitched back to the town, sneaked past the shop where I'd been given the wrong directions (I didn't want to hurt the guys feelings) and was back on my way - more frustrated at losing half a day than anything else - and heading towards Charklik, the last stop in the desert before the mountains began.

A common theme of whereever I've been since leaving Europe is that seemingly every shopkeeper will try to rip you off upon seeing your not local. As someone who's been described by a previous employer as 'someone who wouldn't say boo to a goose' I have to say I was getting pretty fed up with it, whilst trying to be as courteous as I can but in Charklik I finally snapped. A local baker charged me double what I'd been paying for a loaf of bread and the following scene I made was neither big nor clever - I am not proud. But worse was to come as it turned out he hadn't been ripping me off - locals couldn't understand my complaints and as I watched them part with the same ammount of money I'd been charged I was left to feel thoroughly embarrassed, offer my apologies and be left to slink out of town with my tail between my legs - woops!

But back on the road, and with one right turn I was out of the desert and without a word of warning I hit a 50 mile climb into the mountains where I spent the next day discovering another Chinese tradition - starting road works whilst having no intention of finishing them. Whilst this left for some frustrating riding the mountains a further problem was emerging - the cold. I've met some sadistic people on my trip, people who have camped in -25 and enjoyed it, people who have cycled through Siberia in the winter and people who have waited till mid-January before going to the furthest outreaches of Tibet - I am not one of these people so I needed a motivation to tackle the cold and it wasn't long till I was in luck. Whether we admit it or not we all have our vices in life, the little self-indulgent pleasures we try not to share with others and I'll freely admit that one of mine is KFC, so finding out there was a KFC in Xining was all I needed and I was back in the saddle flying.

But life is never that simple - upon leaving the desert I'd punctured two of my spare tyres - nowhere sold the spares I needed but this should not have been a problem but when I got to just an agonising 150km from Xining my front tyre got a puncture and I found that the spare I had had a broken valve - not for the first time I was indebted to a local who's skilled hands fixed the valve enough to get me to Xining - even if it did mean stopping every 10km to pump the tyre back up again.

The chinese man who somehow managed to fix my broken tyre

Xining was the first proper Chinese city I'd arrived in (for those of you who don't know the history of Xinjiang province China basically has no historical right to the area, the Chinese are a minority, and the current status as part of China is due to the area declaring independence as Turkestan in the 50's, only for their leaders to all die in a suspicious plane crash on their way for talks in Beijing - oh how cynical it is of anyone to suggest that the Chinese government were involved in this in any way) and how to describe Xining, hmmm I think 'hole' is the word. A very ugly city, over crowded, ridiculously noisy and with pollution that was at times unbelievable so after 2 days I was glad to get back on the road.

And back into the mountains. Except by now the weather really was beginning to change - the first couple of days were ok but after this the next week was spent at an altitude above 3,500 metres and past -10 at night! Upon leaving the town of Hazuo I slept the night only to wake up the next morning to look out the tent and be greeted by the images below:

Above shows a nights snow fall on the bike and below shows a nights snow fall on the road!

As you can imagine camping in this weather was about as fun as it seems but I was soon facing up to further problems I hadn't even considered in planning. The first was cycling in snow: the above picture was taken just before setting off for the day and there was just 8 seconds on my odometer before one of my frequent trips to the ground that day - the sheet ice proving spectacularly difficult to ride on in the mountains. The second was my gears freezing: With the wind chill factor terrible and with the blue sky meaning the sun turning much of the snow to slush it soon meant that everytime I went down a hill I was left with a fresh layer of ice on my gears, meaning they wouldn't work - the solution to thaw them out? I'll give you a hint - it's a liquid that usually comes at around 37 degrees and is made by pretty much everyone everywhere (and is also a damn sight quicker than boiling the kettle every 20 minutes).

So with the problems sorted I moved onto Zoige, a mostly Tibetan town in Northern Sichuan where I spent 2 days at a Tibetan run guesthouse. In China I have consistently struggled with the people but I have to say the Tibetans I met were consistently a pleasure to be around. Unlike the Chinese, who's first action will be to shout 'Laowai' (literally 'foreigner') at you at the top of their voice before staring repeatedly at you as if you've just fallen out of a space ship, the Tibetans would stop to talk, invite you into their home, ask you questions and make you feel genuinely welcome. For a group who have suffered so much persecution over the past 50 years to still be as bright, optomistic, friendly and welcoming as the Tibetans I met were was something truly humbling and something that will stay with me long after this trip is over.

Another posing pic after leaving Zoige

And with that warm feeling inside I left back out into the cold where I began to descend (thankfully) and was soon even out of the snow, much to my pleasure and on the road to Chengdu. The descent was as fun as ever (I'm not sure if it's possible to ride a bike from an altitude of 4,000m to 2,000m in a day and not enjoy yourself) and after a couple more days I was 100km north of Chengdu, riding through the area that was the epicentre of the 2006 Earthquake. I think in England we sometimes forget how lucky we are to live where we do - away from fault lines, tornadoes and other natural disasters - the fact that we still talk about Michael Fish's incorrect prediction of there being no hurricane over 20 years ago shows how little suffering we've had - so seeing the destruction Mother Nature can create when she wants was yet another eye opener and the effect it's had on the people was also noticeable, with people warning me about rocks falling on me or landslides happening no matter where I camped.

Unfortunately my pictures of the earthquake zone didn't come out as I would have liked, but hopefully you get the idea

But of course I was ok, and after seeing the destruction Mother Nature could cause when she wanted to it was time to move onto Chengdu - home to a species that no matter how hard she tries Mother Nature simply can't seem to get rid of: The Giant Panda.

I was in the city for 5 days (I got ill again so didn't see much though) but I've been looking for a way to summarise just how bad the pollution is in China and Chengdu offers that opportunity. I was to stay with a friend named Tasha and she'd told me to go to the airport to meet her. This should have been simple enough but the hardest part was finding the airport because whilst I could hear the planes coming in, with the pollution as bad as it was I simply couldn't see any of them come into land. Blue sky is something you simply don't get in China's cities, whilst rubbish, noise and litter are everywhere. And don't get me started on the spitting - it's bad enough when someone spits in the street but out here its in restaurants, internet cafes, shops - you name it and the locals will be spitting in it - even hotels, and don't think it's just a man thing either - women are some of the worst offenders - lovely!

But the 5 days in Chengdu were fun, not least for learning about Chinese University. To any (lazy) students reading this let me tell you about Chinese University - everyone lives on Campus - ok, fair enough, but you don't get a room, you don't share a room with another person, no the average room has 8 people to it. But don't worry if your worried about waking each other up at different times as everyone has to be in bed by 11, when the lights go out, and I mean physically go out as the power is turned off. And don't worry about who'll be cooking breakfast as you're all up at 6.30 the next day for group exercises, which everyone has to attend. And if you don't? Why then you get a massive fine! So in short you go to bed when your told, get up each day to exercise and have, well, who are we kidding, you have no freedoms - and all this 7 days a week!

Southern Sichuan

From Chengdu it was on to Leshan to extend my visa and it's at this point I'd like to go on a little rant about the Chinese people. To be quite honest, dealing with a lot of the Chinese people who are over the age of 30 is nigh on impossible.

In China, a lot of the time I've found that if your not a persons direct problem then they don't care about you. Over the last 2 months I've had to deal with so much rudeness you would not believe - if you ask a Chinese person for directions etc and they don't want to answer you they won't apologise or say they don't know, they'll simply turn their back on you and walk away, more often than not whilst laughing (I've given up speaking to women over the age of 25 as it's a pointless task). People will go out of their way to avoid helping you, when it would be simpler to give the advice you need and don't get me started on the drivers.

There's a historical theory which goes something along the lines that China's 'One child per family policy' created a generation of spoiled children, and after having come through areas populated by these 'children' I fully support the theory that suggests a lot of the people in China are used to getting their own way: On my way into Leshan I had a small accident, nothing serious but I was sprawled in the middle of the road - what help did I get? None. Not a single person stopped, but 3 motorcyclists rode around my splatted body with one helpfully shouting 'Laowai' at me, whilst a bus that arrived on the scene seconds later simply drove up to me, stopped and repeatedly used his horn again and again until I picked up my sorry body and heaved myself off the road. By this time I was thoroughly sick of the attitude of this generation of Chinese people, who I have to say have soured my time in China. (But I have to say the refreshing thing that gives me optomism for the future, as it has done whereever I've been, is the attitude of the young people, who are looking to the future and embracing the outside world).

The pollution in China really is disgusting - this shows where a natural spring meets the polluted river - you can see how quickly the colour changes

After extending my visa in Leshan I embarked on what should have been a simple enough ride to Kunming - unfortunately once again the word 'simple' proved to be the wrong word to use as first of all I embarked down a road that wasn't on my map for 50km before being kicked off to a road that also wasn't on mine, or any of the other maps I've managed to find since. I eventually found out where I was (100km out of the way and going further wrong) and was forced to take a 2 day detour through the mountains and this is where the problems really began - first my chain snapped. This shouldn't have been a massive problem except that my chain tool had broken in Chengdu and the replacement wasn't being posted out till Christmas, but this was soon fixed (with yet more help from some legendary locals) and I was soon back on the road, only to hit more snow and for the weak link in the chain to snap again 2 days later. I was now really in trouble as I could only manage a partial repair job and with no help available for 300km I was treading on egg shells and going as slowly as possible. However my carefulness soon became even more irrelevant as with 180km to go to Kunming my rear derailleur snapped in two!

Snapped in two - Impressive

This was impressive, even by my standards and whilst I knew it would be satisfying to walk into the bike shop in Kunming and see the look of horror on the mechanics face as he wondered 'How the hell has he done that?' (a question I can't answer), the problem had left Tullulah looking severely like a domestic violence case: battered, bruised and now immobile, and had left me with the problem of actually getting to Kunming in the first place to get her fixed.

But help was at hand: In China the police presence is ridiculously big. Every village's largest building will be a fully staffed police station and throughout my time in China I'd learned that the authority figures in this country come in one of two forms: the first type of Policeman is the level-headed man who realises how pointless it is having a Police Station staffed with 20 full time officers in a village of 2,000 people where everybody knows everybody else, and will let you get on with your business. The second type is 'The Little Man', the type of person who's been given the smallest bit of authority and must show others that he has it by telling you you can't walk your bicycle down this street despite the fact theres 20 Chinese people doing the exact same thing (Undermining him by pointing this out doesn't help) or by telling you can't go through a Checkpoint the way you have and you have to go back 50 metres to walk round the side gate (In this case undermining him and refusing on the grounds of common sense actually worked as he pushed my bicycle the 50metres for me whilst I hopped over the barrier).

Luckily the Police Station I went to for help was filled with the former type: I was told that there was no bus to Kunming until tomorrow, but not to worry as I could spend the night with them: Over the following few hours I was treated to a tour of the Police Station, shown the cells, the supplies cupboard and even the unlocked cabinet in the unlocked room where the guns were kept, before being taken to a slap-up dinner with the entire force and then given my own private room on the third floor for me to sleep in - the whole time I was told by my new Police friends how bored they were in this job as no crime ever happened here and there was nothing to do, so it's fair to say we got on well and were both happy at the break from our routines. The police it has to be said have consistently been some of the kindest people I've met in China, and the next morning I was sent on the bus (they even paid for me) with a brand new Police thermos flask to boot!

Me with the local Police Officer

I arrived in Kunming with another 200km to add to the 'cheat' list that currently contains the other cheating part of my journey in Kazakhstan and that's where I'm writing this from. The bike's fixed and raring to go, whilst to be honest I can't wait to get out of China so hopefully I'll be back in contact again soon from Laos - sweet, laidback Laos! This is of course if the bike doesn't fall apart in the meantime.....

For anyone wondering what I think of the political situation in China I would love to write my opinions on it, and I will in the future. However as I have to come back to China to get to Korea and taking into account that this website is blocked out here, coupled with the fact my original visa application was rejected I think it's for the best I keep my mouth shut until I'm in a position where I don't need to come back.

Back in the groove

Leaving Almaty still highly frustrated at having to spend over a months budget on a simple Chinese Visa I found the perfect cure: A day and a half back on the road towards Krygyzstan I hit the last hill, caught a tailwind and spent the next two hours flying at an average of 25 mph as within no time at all was at the Krygyz border - a massive smile on my face that you can only get from riding a bike down a hill very fast!

Entering Krygyzstan was a big moment for me - there is a lot of conjecture on where continental boundaries lie and speaking to different travellers only seems to fuel the debate, so I've simply decided to use FIFA and their confederations as a guideline, and as such for the first time I officially considered myself out of Europe.

Out of Europe and within a further hour to Bishkek, the Capital of Krygyzstan, located just 20km south from the border and my home for the next 10 days as I had to post my passport back to the UK to get my Chinese Visa. The first impressions were good - friendly people, a vibrant city and best of all cheap, good food! I spent the first 2 nights staying with a guy named Kemo, but unfortunately he had to leave Bishkek for the weekend so I ended up for the next 8 days with the wonderful David and Jennifer, American newly weds who had just moved to Bishkek to work at the American school. I had a great time with these guys, enjoying their banter, talking American politics (for hours of entertainment with American travellers wherever you go simply mention Bush and sit back for the next 2 hours and listen) and also learning that if your staying with Americans for free it's probably best not to refer to the NFL as 'Wimps rugby'.

David and Jennifer on the left, Pauline and Camille at the front and myself with Patrick, who'd been picked up by Camille and Pauline at the back!

I also began to learn just how small the world is inside the traveller network and also that I was far from being the only cyclist in Bishkek! On my arrival at David and Jennifers I'd been told that there were other guests staying - entering the room to see the familiar faces of Camille and Pauline, who I'd met in Tbilisi, wasn't something I'd expected! And then the next day, when I'd arranged to meet my friend Danny, another cyclist I'd met back in Georgia, it turns out they knew him aswell! So it seems wherever you go there's always a familiar face - and more cyclists!

I met Danny at the guesthouse he was residing in and the last thing I expected was to be confronted by not one or two but 6 other cyclists: Danny from Switzerland, an Austrian couple on the road for 3 years and heading back, Andie - an Austrian heading the same way as me (albeit a bit faster), Coreen - a French lady out in Krygyzstan for her summer holidays and Alvaro - AKA the Biciclown - who's on the road for 10 years (he left in 2004 and has already gone from Spain to South Africa and back up via Turkey to Central Asia) and performs as a clown for local children as he travels - a truly inspirational individual (although probably a few screws lose to attempt something like this!) - remember the name as there'll be more on him later!

The Cyclists (And on Motorcyclist) in Bishkek

But after a week in Bishkek, a day at the circus, a horrendously failed attempt at dating a local and enough local cuisine to mean I needed to get back on the bike just to get some fitness back I finally got the e-mail to say that my passport had arrived at the delivery company. Like an excited child who's spent the last week grounded, I rode as fast as I could to collect it, too fast in fact, as I rode into the wing mirror of a taxi nearly smashing it right off - the driver found it hilarious for some reason and ushered me on way even whilst I was still trying to offer my apologies - and with the ink wet on my Chinese Visa I was free to leave the next morning.

Never too old for the circus

At 6 am the next day I said my goodbyes and hit the road. With all the faffing around I'd only cycled 2 days in the last 20 and the lack of exercise showed as the next few days I huffed and puffed my way up to Lake Issykol. On Alvaro's recommendation I'd decided to take the long route down to Osh, which involved 2 passes over 3,000 metres and 3 more of over 2,500. The first few days we're ok but each pass contained no roads, just dirt tracks - a nightmare as everytime a lorry came past (and with a gold mine locally there was a hell of a lot of these) it raised the dust and meant I couldn't see more than 10 metres and would invariably spend the next 5 minutes coughing my guts up.

But there was a saving grace - the Krygyz food. I've been trying to restrict myself to a budget of US $5 per day - in Krygyzstan this meant I lived like a king and if, like me, you don't know to much about Krygyz food let me fill you in - it's basically fat cooked in different ways. Fat in dumplings, fat in noodles or just fat served still attached to the bone. There was 2 types of traveller I'd met in Krygyzstan - those undertaking exercise, eg trekking or cycling, and those who were just travelling around: the latter type of traveller unanimously hated the food - whilst those, like me, who needed the fat, could not have been happier. And with the average plate costing around 90p life was good!

Arriving in Naryn (a big tourist spot in Krygyzstan yet still with a population of just 15,000) I sat down to eat in a local restaurant - 2 main courses, a large pot of tea and a litre of beer (yep, litre is a standard measure out here!) came to a little over $4 - I was in heaven!

I left Naryn the same day and headed on the road to Kazarman. I'd heard the route was difficult this way and the road was bad - but what I got I was in no way prepared for. Road conditions were terrible, meaning even on the flat I couldn't go faster than 6mph and up the hills I was crawling along at 3 mph - and this was steep! The pass was only 2,800 metres - I'd scaled higher - but this was by far and away the hardest days ride by a long way - and worst still whilst my map showed only one pass - it turned out there was three - all over 2,500 with long descents and hard climbs on each.

Better view from the top

Worse still, on a day where 6 hours on the bike had yielded barely 50km, I ran out of food. Camping for the night on an empty stomach I was lucky in the morning to find the village I'd banked on making the previous day and then, when I finally arrived I was confronted by another problem consistent in Krygyzstan - the shops. I arrived in a village of a good 200 houses - after asking around I was told there was only one shop and that I'd have to find the owner to open it before I could buy anything. After tracking her down, she opened up the shop and bearing in mind this was the only shop for 50 km, I was surprised to see she sold only 4 items - biscuits, pick & mix, super glue and vodka. I say 4 things, what I actually mean is the first three items, aswell as about 50 different brands of vodka.

It's unfair to generalise, but its no understatement to say that by 11 o'clock in the morning about 75% of Krygyz men were drunk - a breakfast of 20 cigarettes and a bottle of vodka (about $2 if you were wondering) seeing them through till about 4 o'clock where you'd then see the same men passed out anywhere and everywhere: on the roadside, in horse carts, under cafe tables - on that kind of diet it doesn't pay to be fussy about accomodation.

Leaving with a kilo of biscuits and a kilo of pick & mix the descent to Kazarman was surprisingly easy. Furthermore, for the previous 2 days in the dusty road it had been pretty apparent I'd been following the tracks of other cyclists. I'd wondered if it was any of the guys I'd met in Bishkek and 10 km from Kazarman I found it wasn't - it was 2 Germans - Ewald and Ingrid.

Ewald and Ingrid

I liked them instantly, not least because Ewald told me he'd cycled Tibet and the roads here were a lot worse. We rode together into Kazarman, enjoyed lunch and the more we spoke the more I enjoyed their company - they were both 71 (71!) and had both travelled the world extensively, with some amazing stories to tell and on this trip they were just spending 6 weeks in Krygyzstan doing the circular route from Bishkek. However with time ticking on my Krygyz visa I knew I had to leave that afternoon and after speaking to Ewald and Ingrid they decided to take a taxi for the next stage, another 3,100 metre pass (I liked Ewald even more after he gave it the macho 'I could cycle it but my wife wouldn't make it') and I was left to leave town on my own.

I wasn't alone for long however - as after another 2 hours I could see a cyclist in the distance - it was Alvaro! I caught up with him, said hello and was again reassured that the first conversation exchange was simply looking at each other and saying 'these f**king roads'.

We decided to ride together and for me this was great. I'd never ridden with anyone before so to do so with someone who's already been on the road for 4 years was great as not only did it give me company, it gave me the chance to pick his brains on my route and get some general tips. He didn't dissapoint, giving me all the information I needed for Africa, helping me fix my stove and even giving smaller hints like how it can help to flag down cars on dust roads to ask irrelevant questions, as this way you don't get a face full of dust for every car that passes.

Alvaro on the road

3 days later and we arrived in Osh for a well earned rest day. The first night we strolled down town for a meal when a voice came from the darkness, "My friend".

Figuring it was an annoying salesmen we carried on walking - it came again, getting louder - "My friend, please stop".

We ignored again and strolled a further 20 metres to the safety town square before being tapped on shoulder by the now out of breath man - "When I say stop you stop!", he yelled.

Me and Alvaro looked at each other: This guy wasn't in uniform, we hadn't done anything wrong and we had our documents to prove who we were - I was too tired to talk but Alvaro took the lead.

"Who are you? What is your job?"

"My job is to protect the tourists in this town" he panted, flashing a card that looked like it must have cost 6 tokens off the back off of a Rice Crispies box.

"So you try to take us to a dark alley and then run after us and shout at us?"

The man was getting visibly annoyed but sitting back to watch Alvaro, who'd had a lot of practice at dealing with beauracratic people like this, it was impressive to see the angry man leave 5 minutes later, tail between his legs, apologising to us and not having seen any of the documents he wanted to.

The hotel room 5 minutes after we arrived

Leaving Osh was a difficult manner: Alvaro wanted more time but with time ticking on my Krygyz visa and having heard of yet more bad road conditions between there and the Chinese border, coupled with horror stories of people not being allowed through I made the difficult decision to leave a few hours earlier - the plan being to meet on the Chinese side of the border.

The ride started easily enough - 180km on patchy asphalt to the town of Sary Tash, going via a 3,600 metre pass (the highest point of the tour to date) and all set to stunning scenery.

Entering Sary Tash

The next 80 km to the border however were back onto the ridiculously bad roads - crawling at 5mph along flat boring roads. The weather also began to turn - as the darkness set in my stove failed and with the temperature plummeting to -10 I left the half cooked pasta and water in the pot over night - the photo below shows how I found it the next day!

The pasta I'd left in a pot, -10 degrees took it's toll on it!

Battling the bad roads and occasional snow, I made it to the border where I was offered free accomodation to stay and settled in for the night glad to be inside. I'd been offered to stay with the owners of a local cafe because in their words 'You cycle here from England, we don't make you pay' (maybe I should be milking this more) and that night I was treated like a king - and the culmination of my time in Krygyzstan? At 11 at night the carcus of a sheep was bought in - the next 2 hours I was treated to watch (and occasionally help) 3 men and 2 women take knives and axes to the meat, as over time the animal went from being recognisable to starting to look like the next days lunch - it wasn't for the squeamish and with one lightbulb illuiminating the whole room was reminiscent of a horror film - but nonetheless it was spectacular to observe and is something that'll stick with me for a long time!

The next morning I was up and out (no lamb for breakfast though) and was the first person over the border. Given how hard it had been to get a Chinese Visa, the horror stories I'd heard of people being refused entry and learning of other cyclists having all their kit taken out of their bags, their luggage scrutinised and their Lonely Planet books thrown in the bin I was surprised at how lax the security was - my bags weren't checked, I was simply asked what books I had - I got through without even taking my hat off.

I crossed the border in under an hour and was free to enjoy something I'd been missing for a long time - proper asphalt. I waited for Alvaro but had no idea where he was so pushed onto Kashgar - the next two passes which were both 50metres short of 3,000 really hammering home how fit I was and how much easier cycling is on good roads!

I arrived 2 days later to Kashgar (Alvaro showed up just 2 hours later and we'd missed each other several times by mere minutes) and now it's time for some rest!

First impressions of China? It's a culture shock! For a start there's people - something scarce in Krygyzstan. And unlike the morons I met at the Chinese Embassy everyone seem's friendly, warm and helpful - even the border guards. The foods good and spectacularly cheap (50p for a bigger plate of noodles than it's possible to eat) and best of all everyone cycles - although it's easy to see how theres 300 road deaths a day with the way people drive.

The laws unclear on the legality of cycle touring in China so it'll be interesting to see if I have any problems with the PSB but in the meantime that's it for this leg of the journey - the next 2 months is a mad dash of 5,500 kilometres in 55 days across the mountains to Laos - I'll be in contact then but in the meantime I'm just hoping it doesn't get to cold!

Extra Pictures

An improvised meal when low on ingredients

A better meal - presentation isn't everything

Krygyz kids helping me get water

Repairs on the Dolon Pass

Testing Times In Kazakhstan

In the last blog I felt I'd been a bit hard on Azerbaijan. Then on my last day in the country I was again hassled by the Police for money (The Baku constabulary are little more than uniformed beggars) and was charged 3 times the price of what I should have paid for my boat ticket to Kazakhstan - the lady in the ticket office even kind enough to use a calculator and a botched exchange rate to show just how much of my money she would be pocketing for herself.

She had the boat tickets, she also knew I had the money and as such my bargaining power was below zero and I got on the boat dissapointed to leave a country where it was impossible not to feel at times that the majority of people were 'on the take'.

After boarding the boat however, my losses were put into perspective when I ran into teams from England and Spain competing in the Mongol Rally - an annual race/leisurely drive in the aid of charity from either London or Madrid to Mongolia. The teams I had met had encountered even more corruption than I had and most reported being stopped twice a day - with the worst off having been left out of pocket by up to $500 (and of course no paperwork to go with the fines).

So it was fair to say I was with a group of people who, like me, were just happy to be on the boat and heading for Kazakhstan. As we left the harbour the beers were cracked out, music was played on a guitar and as the sunset on the party atmosphere it was easy to sit back and remember that times like this are exactly why we travel.

A celebrational atmosphere as the boat leaves Baku

Waking up the next morning conversation turned to when the boat would arrive in Aktau. I'd heard 18 hours, the Spanish had heard 20 and the English teams just hoped for somewhere in between: I don't think it surprised anyone when we finally docked 38 hours later. It was another 2 hours before we were finally let off the boat only to encounter more problems: It had been difficult enough dealing with the Azeri Police who went out of their way to break to the rules but in Kazakhstan they didn't even know them. And as such I had to wait another 2 hours while 3 guards talked furiously, checked rule books and argued with each other before deciding that, like I had pointed out 2 hours previously, my bicycle didn't need registration papers.

Me, Marie, her father and Roi at Aktau Port

As I headed through customs I met Roi, Marie and her father. Marie and her father had cycled from Thailand and were headed back to their home in Brittany, whilst for a real hard luck story there was Roi. (Edit - it turns out I was completely wrong about Roi - to read his story check out his comment at the bottom of the page!)

I was upset for him when I heard about his troubles, he was a good guy and had even kind enough to swap books with me as I travelled so I could get the Lonely Planet Central Asia. Upon recieving this book for some unknown reason I'd felt the desire to look up the passage on the boat from Azerbaijan to Aktau: ' There are irregular boats every week to 10 days between Baku and Aktau. One of these ferries sunk in 2002 killing all 51 people on board'.

I really must do more research!

Finally being free I was left to consult my map. I had already spent 3 days of my alloted 30 day visa simply getting here and given that I had to get visas in Almaty this realistically left me with just 21 days to cover the 3,700 km between Aktau and Almaty....hmmmmm.

This unlikely task became an impossible one the moment I met Slava. I had originally gone to the beach to try to find somewhere to sleep but we soon struck up a conversation and before I know it I was invited to stay and that his friend ran a bar in downtown Aktau - what happened next I couldn't tell you but given that I woke up the next day with a splitting headache and with the ammount of money gone from my wallet suspiciously correlational to 3 rounds of the local vodka I can probably just about work it out. Worse still I then had to leave the comfort of a nice cosy house for what was one of the biggest challenge yet - the Ustyurt Desert.


I accidently left my riding t-shirt in Baku - Slava was kind enough to give me one of his

The next 5 days weren't fun, and as if sweating vodka wasn't bad enough conditions were made worse by so many different factors: There were no roads, just dirt tracks. Towns were randomly dotted every 100km or so, meaning everytime I wanted water I had to flag down a truck. There was no cover anywhere so I was having to sleep in drainage ducts below the road, oh, and the headwinds. Dear god the headwinds. It was tough. Very tough. But at least in my mind it confirmed a few things: Struggling to travel 80km a day I now knew I had to get a train for part of the journey in Kazakhstan and a quick bit of maths told me that whilst I could no longer cycle the entire journey, I could at least climb the mountains.


At least Kazakh road signs are honest

I arrived in the town of Benieu, with the destination of Janaghorkan in my mind as this is where the contours on my map started. With no direct trains I hopped on the first train for 8 hours before swapping in Makat: I've often found it difficult to work out if I could call myself an adventure traveller or not, but in Makat I earned my stripes and had something happen to me that no travel story is proper without - my wallet was stolen!

Worse still it coincided with being a Saturday and also the first day of the football season: Depressed at the loss, I was left to sit in the train station alone, looking at my watch and thinking about what would be going on at home right now: 12 o'clock - I'd be cooking the bacon sandwiches for me and Dad. 1 o'clock - set off on the drive for Loftus Road. 5 o'clock - leave ground complaining about performance regardless of result. 8 o'clock - meet up with friends with a few beers in the same bars. Every week without fail.

The routine I'd been so desperate to break free from, even if only for a year or two, now sounded so beautiful, so fun, so much better than sitting alone, walletless in a place where nobody speaks the same language as you: For the first time I didn't just miss home, I wanted to be there.

One of the problems I've still not solved is how to tell people I don't like their food. These lovely ladies served me what seemed like raw sweetcorn in sour-milk - as tasty as it sounds. However not wanting to offend and

only knowing the Russian word for good I was able to leave not only without hurting their feelings, but also with a fine stomach ache to boot.

But here I was and the next 24 hours were spent on a train to my destination (£10 for a day on a train with sleeping facilities for all - take note British Rail!) and it was back into the heat and headwinds on the road to Almaty.

After a few more days riding I happened to pass an Internet Cafe. It was interesting to see a comment on the last blog about how I wasn't really spending much time in the destinations I was travelling to - logging on for the first time in 12 days to find the place I'd been just 2 weeks previously was now a full on warzone I suddenly felt pretty justified in this! There had been a strong military presence when I was in Georgia, but none of the people I had met expected this and all I can do is hope that the scores of good people I met in the country are ok.

I met this family at a truck stop on the road to Almaty - they insisted on buying me dinner but refused to eat with me!

3 days later, having survived several attacks from moronic drivers (I'm not surprised they didn't understand the words I angrily shouted in their direction but I am surpised they couldn't work out the hand signals) I arrived in Almaty - which to be honest is a strange place. Its beautifully set in the shadow of snow capped mountains, with some stunning views of the city available and some wonderful architechture to boot. But for some reason the people didn't seem happy: people walking round with their heads looking at the floor, never smiling, never saying hello to each other and in many cases doing their best to avoid conversation all together.

The people I did meet I asked (as I do wherever I go) if they like living in their city. The only person I met who said 'yes' did so as he was filling out forms to move to China for the next 2 years. Others who said no gave varying reasons; the generic 'its too expensive' and 'there's nothing for young people to do' were responses I was used to hearing, but it didn't stop there. 'There are to many Asian faces' may not be the politically correct opinion but when coupled with the view of a Kazakh girl I met who told me 'I was born in the early 80's. At that time we had our own culture, we were proud. Now everybody is just trying to be European, we are not European. I don't like it.' and it could offer insight into some of the underlying social problems facing Almaty in the future.

But in truth whilst I was in Almaty I had one thing on my mind - with already a Krygyz Visa in my passport and a Pakistani Visa being processed I went to the Chinese Embassy to apply for the missing link in my route. On my first visit there I arrived at 9 o'clock only to be told that I would need to arrive earlier if I wanted to get inside as the queue was now 130 people and anyway I could not apply for a tourist visa without a letter of invitation and could not get a transit visa without an onward visa. I half expected this so I went away, sent some e-mails which confirmed what I had already known: that it was currently impossible to get the letter I needed as there was a ban until after the Olympics and that nobody would ever issue one for a transit visa anyway as you didn't need one. 2 days later, with the ink still wet on my Pakistani visa I returned to the Embassy to apply for my transit visa. This time, after queing for 6 hours I was refused because my application was in written ink as opposed to on computer - there was a man with a business opposite the embassy who made his living by writing peoples applications out on computer but he'd refused to serve me because I was English.

I was angry. Very angry. But after an embassy guard literally stood over and watched to make sure the man in the booth served me, I was then told that with the computerised document I now had everything I needed to apply and to come back early Monday morning.

By now I'd learned quickly that the organisation here was shambolic and the Embassy were doing their best to make it as difficult as possible for people just to get inside the building - let alone obtain a visa.

I wasn't taking chances. Half 3 on the Monday morning I arrived (and was still only 10 in the list!). By 5am the list was at 30 (only 28 people had gotten inside on the Friday), by 6 it was 65 and by 9, when the embassy opened 126 names were on the list waiting to come inside. But I was one of the first inside and what happened next will gaul me for the rest of my trip.

I entered, sat down and gave the clerk my application.

"Ok, you are from England. I don't think you can make this trip"
"Why not?"
"You have no letter of invitation"
"It is impossible to get a letter of invitation for a transit visa"
"I know"
"I also have proof of onward travel"
"I know"
"So what is the problem?"
"You have no letter of invitation"
"I don't understand the problem"
"I know"

There was a pause before he spoke again:

"But just so you know, it is not me who decides, it is this man"

He pointed behind me, I turned around and my heart sank.

A man of about 5 ft 8, pencils tucked into top pocket alongside a 15cm ruler, not a hair out of place and his name badge at exact right angles to his top pocket, the kind of man who had never been in love but whose heart had never stopped beating since the day he first held a clipboard: I knew from the first moment I set my eyes on this Chinese version of 'Rimmer' that I would not be getting my visa.

He rejected the 2 people in front of me, both of whom had the required Letter of Invitation and then took great joy in having one of them removed from the building because 'we cannot have any more than 8 people in this room at one time'. Deflated I handed over my application - he took one look at it and laughed, directly into my face before smirking the word 'nyet' as if asking for something I had everything that was required for was the worlds most ridiculous request.

I could've taken politeness: a 'we are very sorry Mr Blake, but you cannot make this journey at this time', or a 'It is a regretful situation but there is nothing I can do'. To be laughed at by a jobsworth I couldn't.

I left heart broken, but I did however have an ace up my sleeve. As I write this I've had to send my passport back to Britain - and what will I recieve? A 2 month Chinese Visa courtesy of a British tourist agency.

I wonder if the irony would be lost on my friend in the embassy: The Chinese don't want me to be there. If my friend at the Embassy had issued me the transit visa I wouldn't be there. Personally I want to be in Pakistan.

But after all of this I'm going to make sure as hell I enjoy my 2 months in China!