We made it!-12th November 2008

We made it!
We cycled into Beijing in a convoy, dodging the usual bikes and other traffic - to arrive at a busy but cold and overcast Tiananmen Square. Quite a moment-and we felt close and very connected to each other, However - after the required photographs infront of Chairman Mao's larger than life picture- the policeman started to get edgy and wished to move us on. It was too cold to hang around anyway. On to our hotel where celebratory food and drink was waiting, and I then put on a slide show of our journey. It evoked the full range of emotions and we were overwhelmed anew as to just how much groung- literally and figuratively we had covered.
It has been very hectic since arrival with bike packing, changing hotels, dealing with clearing up - and trying to get from A to B by taxis which invariably get lost! So today we are escaping from the hordes and will be cavorting along the Great Wall.
Will get last photos taken in Beijing later....
It is just now time to rejoice and give thanks for life itself
Joan

95 Kilometres to Beijing

Billboards show proud folk
China's power and might will rise
To reach toxic skies


In 24 hours we will be cycling into Tiananmen Square after a journey which started in Istanbul on 26th July and has taken us over about 9000km. This is infact shorter than anticipated, as , although we have been through 7 countries , we were expecting 8, but Georgia was denied to us because of war.
It has been an astounding adventure and I feel humbled but invigorated by all the new experiences. We have been through deserts in searing heat. We have huffed and puffed over mountains in pinching cold. We have battled myriads of people, but also been through areas where a single vehicle has caused a stir. The overwhelming impression however of travel across Central Asia and the huge land mass of China on the Silk Route is that it is FLAT!
This last leg from Xian to Beijing - about 1200 we have covered at a rate of 120 - 140 km a day, riding 5 to 6 days on end. It has been flat, but has demanded a very different kind of mental strength and endurance. It is almost urban and semi-urban the entire distance and the fields and the green lies out of site behind dirty strip developments and huge cities. Some cities have been larger than Cape Town -and I have never heard their names. Cyclists have zero status on the roads - along with any other moving object with less than 3 wheels. So we have had to contend with busses, cars , trucks, going the wrong way down streets, wrong way around roundabouts, stopping with no warning, and blatant cutting off while maintaining eye contact. All this while dodging pedestrians who often choose to stop and chat mid street. There is no point in claiming rights or getting angry. It is a waste of good emotional energy. Everyone seems to remain impassive and cool.
There is no road rage - if there was the roads would be littered with dead bodies...
However- I had to devise some tricks to retain sanity. I tried to find something new to look at every day - and I must admit the "sameness" of these conditions verged on being boring. The roads are often lined with masses of trees- rather dirty and battered - but still green and these encourage the ever present mossie ( house sparrow to non Saffers)
As these little birds tittered and fed on stray bits of corn, they gave me great pleasure. There are also plantings of roses, and other flowers, along with strange statues - all rather grey due to the all pervasive pollution which prevents the sun from lifting the gloom. But I appreciated the attempt at beauty. The air quality has proved a challenge - many of us are coughing, and sniffing- and wondering how this can continue...
My cycling companions as always saved the day. We became masters of "bullshitting"- and covered every conceivable topic while keeping eyes on the road.
So I think at last I have got my head around the fact that China has 1,3 billion people. The impact is mind blowing. Every resource is stretched. Every shop is full. No one has personal space - or respects it. Even weddings seem to be going on continuously -and dont last too long, because someone else is waiting in line. It seems hard even to show compassion when life is so hard for some individuals. Animals take their chances and learn survival tricks.
As I read this it sounds a little negative. Not so. What a country this is and as I ride through I have a feeling that it is very definitely a 'Work in Progress" and the rest of the world must keep watch.

I will cycle very carefully tomorrow. I will write again in Beijing.
Thank you again for coming along with me on this journey


Tree planting en masse
Gives beauty and a green lung
Which sadly still coughs.

China facts

China invented-

Paper
Printing
Dynamite
The compass


The Rose is indigenous to China


Excesses in China- ( in my opinion)

Smoking
Spitting
Shouting

Mao Country

The end of this epic adventure is hurtling fast towards me - and very soon I will be contemplating normal life again ( what ever that may be)
We have only 7 riding days left and on Wednesday 12th November- we will be cycling onto Tiananmen Square in the heart of Beijing. I have been able to ride every single riding day and I am so grateful for such good health and robust psyche!
It is so often that, as the end of a demanding task approaches, it is easy to relax and forget the usual precautions. However, in these last days of cycling, we are acutely aware of all the dangers facing us and we are being super careful. Each riding day now - still about 120km- seems like a hard day at the office. It is not particulasly enjoyable , but getting to the end of it well gives a great sense of achievement and satisfaction.
I have resorted to using my head a little more, thinking and imagining, as all I really see is the road ahead and all the traffic. Distant views are a thing of the past due to the pollution. Today I reflected on Mao and his extraordinary political career. This is because we are cycling through the Province in which he was born - Hunan Province. He was born into a poor farming family in 1893 and he taught in the 1920's in a peasant training institute. He was very sympathetic to the farmers' plight, and being heavily influenced by Marxist thought - he soon began advocating that the only way to replace the old order, was by mass armed uprising. I can now appreciate why he gained a following so quickly. This area is intensively farmed. No land, no crops, no animal dung even, is wasted. Corn cobs and nut shells are dried for fodder. The peasant farmers are tough as nails, reed thin, and seem to work endlessly. Their strenghth seems way out of proportion to their diminutive size. I am sure that they look far older than their years. Modernisation has helped no doubt in many ways - but life still seems tough, dirty, cold and somewhat joyless. And there seems an unfairness to it as it is their foodstuffs which feed the nation. So I escape the harsh reality of this scene into my thoughts knowing that at the day end - I will be comfortable. How tempting Mao's movement and the benefits thereof must have seemed.
Today also was the very first riding day when I took no photographs. Indeed, there were interesting things to record - like the bamboo workshops, but I was in survival mode. It also made me realise that I am so much more drawn to take photos of the natural world - rather than the man made world. So I include alongside a few photos taken yesterday - while the sun was briefly penetrating the smog and the fields were being worked.
I remain continually amazed at the diveresity of crops and the intricate detail with which they are farmed and prepared.
When I next write - I hope I will be very close to Beijing. Thanks again for giving me the excuse to record my wanderings, and thanks as always for the wonderful feedback.

10 Days to Beijing

This IS the hard part.
The noise on the roads is deafening at times with the honking of horns of all tones and decibels, the penetrating 2 stoke engine noise, construction drills, dynamite explosions, drones of trucks, - and the happy sound of fireworks blowing up to wish the newly weds a happy and long life together!
Villages are a frenzy of activity and extreme concentration and caution is needed to avoid collisions. The police and taxi drivers are sometimes the worst culprits in the dangerous driving stakes.
There is little open space- but what there is is cultivated right up to the road side.
The old folks sit beside their houses in the sun and watch and rest for a while , as they too must push carts and toil to make ends meet. My heart goes out to them. Life has never been in their favour. They survived Mao to now have the benefits they enjoyed with Communism stripped away.
The air is hazy and I cannot take good photos although there are mountains towering to my right.
But still - there is a great pleasure in seeing all this, to really experience and smell it from the seat of a bicycle. I remain astounded by this China and there is still a lot of beauty around - it just needs to be carefully looked for and marvelled at for it has survived through centuries of millions and millions of people

Xi'an-ancient capital of China

Our entry into this massive city of millions of busy people, was seriously hazardous to say the least. There are road rules - on paper only - and anything goes. Cars, trucks, busses, bikes, 3 wheelers, scooters and pedestrians vie for the available gap. The trick seems to be to keep a steady forward pace, make no sudden moves, avoid eye contact- and pray. An even temper must be maintained at all times- there is no point in claiming any rights.
It was a relief to reach our rather seedy hotel and we celebrated with a good few beers on the steps. Amazing how all seemed right with the world thereafter.
Xi'an was the nucleus of Ancient China. There is evidence of a settlement here in 11th Century BC. It was shot to archeological stardom in 1974 with the discovery of the Terracotta Army of the 1st Emperor of the Qin Dynasty.(More of this World Heritage sight later as we are visiting it tomorrow) So now it is a tourist city of note and a large industrial centre, and boasts 5 star hotels and massive shopping malls.
We set out to explore last night. As we headed into the main thoroughfare to hail a taxi, I noticed that scattered over the pavement were scores of small fires which the locals were feeding with what looked like money! Incredible - but I was to learn that this is a ritual which happens around Halloween time and it is fake money, but the gesture is to ensure riches in the life here-after. Ancient traditions indeed - and within a few minutes we were in downtown Xi'an with its flashing neon lights, its McDonalds, its KFC's and a Starbucks. Towering above all this - richly illuminated are the Drum Tower and the Bell Tower constructed in 12th Century, and now a focus for tourists. In days gone by, the bells heralded the dawn and the drum announced the dusk.
Today it is raining and the grey, sombre, polluted sky is heavier than usual. It is impossible to appreciate the magnificence of the city wall and gates -so I may just have to go shopping! Steaming dumplings for lunch could also be a good idea..

Lanzhou to Xian

And I was dreading this section ?
I thought it would be all people and trucks- but as luck would have it, we took some detours and saw some of the most beautiful scenery that China has to offer! Also we went into rural areas where Westerners are almost never seen - so there were many rounds of photographs - especially for our young , tall, blond and blue eyed Dutch lady. She is over 6 feet tall and looks like a veritable giant next to the diminutive Chinese.
This is the hilly, terraced part of China which is almost familiar from the many images which we have seen on paintings and photographs. What is not portrayed is the ancient feel it has . The terraces are still hand tilled with the use of wooden ploughs and animals and hand carts, and I am in awe of the physical strength and industrious nature of these farmers.
The cycling has been tremendous fun with good long climbs and exhilirating downhills. Passage through a 2,4km tunnel was also an exciting experience. Needless to say , hands and feet are frozen most of the day. Our early morning departures are often in temperatures just above freezing. Frost covers the ground and our saddles crack with ice at the first perch.
We also had the good fortune of seeing an old Taoist Monastery high on the Kong Tong Mountain. It is a place of great serenity and has pilgrims flocking to feed here off its peace. Taoism is regarded as the only truly Chinese religion and was founded in the 7th century BC .It promotes oneness and harmony between all living things. It has now also incorporated elements of Buddhism which was imported from India just a little later in history. Confuscianism is not really regarded as a religion in China - it is more a philosophy. What does make me smile though is that in the time of Mao and the Cultural Revolution - religion was banned and there was wholesale destruction of all symbols of religion. Now, anything ancient and with religious significance has been restored, upgraded - and promoted to pull in huge tourist dollars!
We are now in the Shaanxi Province - often regarded as the ancient heart of China and where the Communist Party truly took root. Intensive agriculture is all pervading but so is industrialisation - and the smog is horribly noticeable and forever in our nostrils. Many riders are choosing to wear masks over nose and face - a practice which we have seen done by the Chinese locals increasingly. It does make me feel uneasy though - some serious moves have to be made to keep our global air clean....

My birthday indulgence

I turned into a dimly lit, but pleasing massage palour, and attempted to explain with very explicit sign language, that I wished to have a massage. What I did not realise was that this massage palour was one which specialised in foot massage and reflexology. I felt a bit like a lamb being led to the slaughter as a young man escorted me into a room with 2 reclining couches and indicated that I should remove my jeans. I gazed around me.
The room was designed for comfort and exuded a calm and serene atmosphere, so I sunk back into the chair and sighed deeply.
A cute little Chinese lady cautiously entered and turned on the TV. I tried to indicate that I really did not want it on, but the message did not get through. She simply made it louder, obviously thinking that my frantic nodding of my head was because I could not hear ir. I resigned myself to watching the latest in Chinese Soapies which was an education in itself. Lots of stares, sighing and dramatic music.. The gentleman then returned with a tray tastefully arranged with cookies and fruit juice, while the lady filled a bucket with boiling water and indicated my feet were to be immersed there-in. Horrors! It was so hot but she seemed unconcerned and kept pushing my feet back, and proceeded to massage my hands and arms, as I surreptitiously raised and lowered my feet until all nerve endings were deadened.
I started to relax and enjoy this luxury and self indulgence. The little lady started on my feet- and a look of utter disbelief appeared on her face. What she did not appreciate was that I have been cycling in sandals for the past 3 months and my heels are cracked and layered with dirty dead skin. She resolutely set to correcting this sorry state of affairs.
She tried once more to communicate with me and when I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, she wrote an sms on her phone and presented it to me. I thought perhaps she was writing down the cost - but it was a message in Chinese! So she really did think I was deaf!
The entire experience was wonderful. From the elbows in my back muscles to the deep pressure on my calves; from the bags of scalding stones rolled along my spine to the cracking of all my toes and finger joints. And on departing, to protect my uncared for feet she gave me a pair of socks and inner soles for my shoes!
I staggered out, smiling , happy and knowing that my birthday in Lanzhou would forever be one to remember

Winter

Icy grip squeezes
Life from fingers, nose and toes.
Pale sun dabs with hope

Contrasts?

One of the never ending aspects of China is its glaring contrasts.
I should be accustomed to this - coming from developing Africa - but perhaps here it is all so new and therefore more obvious.
This city Lanzhou has over 2 million people. It is situated on the Yellow River - and we rode 75 Km along the river to get to it - and we had industrial developement the entire distance. The skyline is punctuated with high rise buildings under constuction and I counted at least 30 obvious huge cranes. Yet just off the highway, there is intense rural agriculture, and even the servitudes of the expressways are carefully cultivated.

There was one blatant example of this contrast.

It was a glorious morning . Colours were luminous and the air crisp and clear. I had stopped endlessly to capture images of the ongoing harvest. In the distance, there was a rumbling which as we proceeded, grew to a cacophony of ear bashing sound - shattering the peace of the countryside. The source soon became clear. In the air, were at least 10 MIG 21 Fighter jets, with their distinct Delta wing formation- all doing circuits and bumps from a nearby Airforce base. And this went on for at least 3 hours.
A haiku began to form-

Peasants till the soil
Fighter jets plough the sky-
Food for man or war?

From Lanzhou - on 23rd October

It does feel rather weird to have a birthday where no-one really knows this- and to be in this huge, bustling Chinese city in contrast to the vast, magnificent open spaces we have been riding through. So I am digging deep into my adaptability resources and doing my best to cope with the sensory overload. Thankyou for all the kind birthday greetings and blog comments - very much appreciated, I assure you.
For reasons known only in cyberspace - my blog has been out of operation for the past 10 days or so - and it seems today it wont accept photos, but we have had some wonderful times and sights which I will try to paint for you.

Chinese Harvest
We have had some of our best cycling days as we progressed from Jiayuguan to Wuwei. The fields we have passed through have been a hive of activity. Every man ,woman, child and beast has been involved in the autumn harvest. There have been piles of corn, haystacks, sugarbeets, green tea, cabbages, celery, flower seed heads, onions, herbs and a few unknown fruits and grains-all being lifted from the soil or processed from the plant. All this action with a backdrop of high snow covered peaks - huge to the south where Tibet lies, and smaller to the north. The millions of poplar trees are a rich yellow gold and interspursed we catch glimpses of deep red Chinese Maples. There is an urgency in the air to batton down the hatches before the onslaught of winter- and for very good reason. A few days ago we climbed up to a pass of 3030m in clear crisp, but very cold weather- and that evening the snow started to fall. Great excitement for me- but as we set of the next morning, with the snow falling, with 150km ahead- the mood was not so joyous. Riders came into lunch wet and frozen. I was on lunch duty - so after a few hot drinks, hot noodles, and sizzling fried eggs and bread - and the fact that a watery sun was attempting to break through- things looked up. Max, our young French Canadian got so cold that he stopped at a gas station, managed to get a pair of worker uniform pants and then bought gloves, and towels in which to wrap his feet - and he arrived, looking rather an odd apparition, but smiling smugly.

Our Last camping night
This was indeed an occassion. We had a magnificent site- far from the highway, so no rumbling trucks, and we were right up against remnants of the Great Wall, which stretched far into the distance east and west.
We had a massive bonfire on which did a few ceremonial burns - like the toilet shovel and greasy bike rags, but we also had procured a few marshmallows and a fair Chinese vintage of red wine.
I did an " Informal awards Ceremony"- a lot of fun and laughs and leg pulling but resulted in a good feeling of solidarity that we had made it this far.
I will miss the camping. I love the feeling of self sufficiency, and I am often filled with a great surge of well being.
But it is certainly getting cold now - and population pressure is noticable so I guess I will have to adapt to a shower every night and the city noises.

Through the Gobi Desert to Jiayuguan

( My second attempt - the first one disappeared)

Cycling through the Gobi Desert has been the realisation of a childhood dream. I was in Junior School in Zimbabwe when I read a book about a prisoner of War who had escaped and had to spend many months of suffering crossing the Gobi Desert to safetry. It is reputed to be the driest desert in the world and this poor man had to meat snakes to survive. I had scuttled off to the atlas and noted that the Gobi was in a part of the world totally unknown to me. Would I ever see and feel that desert? I now have had the privilege to see it, smell it, eats its dust, sleep in it and curse its icy winds!
Our route travelled along the Hexi corridor,with the Gobi to our north and east, and with the lofty, snow capped Qilian mountains to the south. We are now in Jiayuguan which has had a settlement since the 2nd century BC but is reputed to be the last western outpost of the Great Wall. For desert travellers along the Silk Route it marked the end of known territory and entry to the unknown. Its main attraction is a splendid Fort built in 1372 and from here the Great Wall can be seen extendeing North and South, far onto the distance over rocky mountains and desolate plains.
We were able to climb up to a look out tower and allow our imagination to run riot. We had made it here across the desert by leg power only. Perhaps not as impressive as Marco Polo and the boys - but still a good feeling.

Through the Gobi Desert to Jiayuguan

A tourist day in Dunhuang

I am usually a rather reluctant tourist but one day can be a treat.
So we paid our money, jumped on a bus and set off to the Mogao Caves - which are also called the Caves of a Thousand Buddhas. I had learned that these are infact a World Heritage sight - but I really did not know what to expect.
I was totally blown away. Hundreds of caves have been carved into the side of sandstone cliffs- between the fouth and fourteenth centuries by folk wishing to pay homage and give thanks, and hopefully to gain blessing, by Buddha. Inside there are a variety of paintings, carvings, sculptures - depicting hundreds of Buddhas and his followers and disciples, and the entries to the caves are then enclosed by intricate woodwork. The largest Buddha was at least 3 stories high. ( Sorry - no photos allowed inside) The survival of these caves has been miraculous - pehaps due largely to the fact that this area was taken by the Tibetans in 781AD. Even the Monguls did not manage to wreck them.
Relatively recently, they have been threatened by treasure seeking archeologists - and so many of the treasures and scrolls and silk paintings can now be found in the British Museum, in France and even St Petersburg.
It is obviously a major tourist attraction - but mainly by Korean, Japanese and Chinese tourists, often as part of a pilgrimage. We were informed however, that this year has been a very bad tourist year due to the Olympics, and also the recent devastating earthquake which was in the adjacent province. However - the massive bus park, huge trinket shops,acres under concrete and generally regimemted feel to the place made us realise that we were lucky to have viewed these wonders in relative peace.
It was then off to the Sand Dunes. This was for me all very amusing as the Chinese Tourist Board have managed to exploit these and yet still give the tourist a thrilling experience. They are magnificent dunes - and you can walk up them, slide down them on sleds, slide down on tubes in a special shute, go on a camel ride, fly over them in a microlight, go on a 4x4e jaunt, and ofcopurse but Cowboy hats and trinkets at any number of stalls. Just for walking on the dunes - a fastidious tourist can hire a set of leggings- bright orange just in case of getting lost-to prevent the sand from entering ones shoes!
Again - demand for all these activities was low and I thoroughly enjoyed wandering around the hundreds and hundreds of camels and marvelling at the scale of this venture.
What a relief that I am only a real tourist occassionally though!

A tough 6 days cycling

We are at last in Dunhuang after a tough 6 days of cycling where conditions were far from ideal.
Granted - the road is relatively flat - in fact boringly so, but the wind was evil and temperatures are plummetting.
Each day was in the region of 130- 140km and what awaited at the end of each day was a rocky campsite close to the noisy highway. Hence we are delighted to be in a hotel now with the prospect of two whole rest days. The beers have been flowing - and the Chinese make good beer - and serve it in BIG bottles!

Dunhuang once marked the extreme western point of the Chinese Empire and marked the end of the Great Wall. Of relevence to us is that it was the last stop for Silk Road caravans before they crossed the dreaded Lop Desert. This is the desert we have been steadily cycling through. Not too much to tell - but some great photo opportunities which I have included alongside. Dunhuang was also an ancient Buddhist centre and tomorrow we are off on a bit of an easy tourist jaunt- by bus- to see Caves of a Thousand Buddhas which are a World Heritage Site.
The rhythm of cycling sometimes takes over and it is easy to miss some of these amazing pieces of history which make China such a puzzle. Dunhung is also well known for its gigantic rumbling sand dunes. These we will also see and I will report back as to whether or not they compare with those magnificent specimans at Sossus Vlei.
Our days of camping will soon be over as population density and freezing temperatures make it a bad option.
We have four more days in our tents and we will mark the end of this phase with a party at our campsite at the Great Wall.
I will miss my familiar tent and cozy sleeping bag - but may welcome the hot shower at the end of a long and cold day.
Will let you know....

A very windy cycle day of 138km

With great effort, I lift my head and gaze up to the barren, purple mountains to the north.They do little to raise my spirits, as my every fibre is involved in propelling my bike and myself forward against a vicious wind, blowing head-on, with powerful side gusts intermittently. Slip streaming is out of the question as none of us can keep a straight line- at best we are trying to avoid being blown down the steep road embankment. Massive trucks grind past and add to the physical danger. The air turbulence they cause tugs and pulls at us, like an invisible pillow beating from every angle, endeavouring to force us into the wheels, or headfirst into the tar.
The sky darkens and the air temperature plummets.
" Enough" yells Knut the Norwegian, as he disappears down the embankment, curls up in a sheltered spot and embarks on one of his well known snoozes. I am in awe of this magical ability he has.
I take a break sitting on the tarmac, adding another layer of protective gear. Suddenly an apparition comes into view on the road ahead. It is a tall Western looking being - but he is pulling a Chinese type handcart! He pulls along side and we exchange travel stories. He is a German fellow called Chris and he was a student of photography in Beijing for the past 2 years. Having completed his course- he needed to return home - so he decided to walk- all the way to Germany!He has set aside 3 years to do this- and he appears to be having a lot of fun.
We bade farewell and he disappears, walking jauntily into the distance.
This proves to be my turning point. From here on, every inch I cycle , he has walked. A front end loader chugs past me affording some wind protection. Suddenly I feel I can pedal harder and keep up with this mechanical giant. My speed increases from 8km per hour to a heady 24km per hour as I ride tucked in at a safe distance next to mammoth wheels. What a steal -I smile to myself And it comes into my head - how sweet the unexpected pleasures that emerge in the midst of seemingly unending adversity!
It is growuing late and cold. Only 10km to camp - but that may take over an hour. A very large startling white object looms up on the side of the road. I laugh out loud. It is a lifesize cement dinosaur. It is part of a series of bizarre cement animal statues which we have been passing along this desert road- camels, cows, even giraffe and kangaroos. Some road builder obviously is trying to prevent sense of humour failure on this desolate windy stretch.
Camp at last. Erecting tents proves yet another challange and our wishes of a dying down of the wind for the night are not met. It howls and buffets all night, pulling at fly sheets and causing a deafening racket within. Mike comments that sleep proved almost impossible as he felt he was sleeping in a subway tunnel.
A watery dawn breaks - and the wind is still whistling through our ears.
Can this go on for yet another day? We have another 140 km to ride today and 4 days more after that . Will we survive?
It is a very quiet group of cyclists seen leaving , heads down, legs straining, each privately hoping for some small reprieve.

China First impressions

I visited China almost 3 years ago, and I vividly recall the words of our guide.
He said wisely-
"When you have been in China for a week - you feel like you could write a book; after a month, perhaps only a chapter- and after a year, it feels impossible to write anything accurately about the enigma that is China"

I am going to risk a few first impressions.....

Colour
RED - everywhere, day and night. Red signs, red paint , red lights, red lanterns, red shoes, red trucks. Get into the business of selling RED and you are made.
It is associated with luck and prosperity

Walls
I guess it is stating the obvious to say that the Chinese have an obsession with walls - given that they are the owners of the most famous wall of all time!
But it feels more than that. Walls line roads, they enclose compounds, they are often gated and they lend an air of secrecy. I am often left wondering as to the activities behind those intimidating structures..

Smells
My children will tell you that I have almost zero sense of smell - an attribute they think is ideally suited to my profession of medicine. However - here in China I am constantly accousted by strong odour.
In the country - animal odour fills the air, along with smells of chillies which lie drying in the sun. We pass beehives and honey smell fills the air. Next the unmistakable whiff of human excreta, mixed with heavy cigarette smoke, but we pass ladies in a town and perfume wafts into our nostrils.
Even hotels smell different. Is it the suspect plumbing, or kitchen smells wafting through the air conditioning?
Garlic, cabbage, fish, liver, - I seem to have smelt them all.
And a seasonal smell right now- melons of every type and their unmistakable smell as they age and rot.
The smell along the roads is often of diesel fumes and other pollutants - and I am sad about that.

Children
Definately fewer than are seen on African roadsides- and boys do predominate, although I suspect many of the girls are hard at work with their mothers. Toddlers while being potty trained have slits in the crotch of their pants- hence you often have to mind your step in towns.

Order juxaposed with disorder
Uniformed bank employees all out on the sidewalk in neat rows, doing Tai Chi to music while the traffic around them seems to obey no rules. Even the pavements are not out of bounds to motorised transport.

I am illiterate
I can neither read or vaguely decipher the simplest of signs. Town names remain a mystery. Warnings are meaningless, even writing down a name in Chinglish meets with blank stares. I feel like a dumb, rather slow child, totally at the mercy of those who know better than I do...

Smiles vs reserve
I meet both. Often there seems a pleasure at the meeting of a westerner - at other times distinct hostility.
I do wonder that if in this predominantly Muslim area, there is a suspicion of Westerners - seen as Americans, who may harbour anti muslim sentiments

Massage

The Chinese are the absolute masters. I had an hour long massage- every muscle in my body, face and head was beaten, pushed, rubbed, thumped - and I staggered out- almost gasping, but next day I felt like a new being!

Environment
Atrocious air pollution, but a national recycling programme. Scrap metal is all re- used and every last tyre seems to find a use. Many earn their living from scavanging recyclable items - makes for a trash free highway

Perhaps by next month I may have revised all of these!!

From Turpan

I am at the lowest point of my life - only literally speaking as Turpan lies 156metres below sea level.
It also holds another honour- that of being the hottest town in China. The highest recorded temperature is 49.3 degrees C and average summer temperatures are 38 degrees C. They say it only rains once every 10 years - and remarkably - we got caught in that rain on our bikes.
It was incredibly exciting as strong winds buffetted us as we were on a 50km downhill into the Turpan depression, and dark, ominous looking clouds collected overhead. The air grew heavy and humid and suddenly - the rain and that magnificent post rain smell. It was short lived- and we soon stripped off the rain gear, and were sweating again, as the clouds lifted, wind died, and all felt fresh and light.
Turpan is a laid back, easy going place that survives on a system of underground water channels. These are called karez- and the idea is thought to have originated 2000 years ago in Iran. The underground network covers a distance of 3000km and taps the water from the snow melt of the Tian Shen mountains.Wells tap the water at regular intervals and miles and miles of agriculture are dependant on this source. These channels have all been dug by hand and the locals are justly very proud of the system.
Were it not for this ingenious water supply - the Turpan depression would be dry as a bone, windswept and featureless. Now its boulevards are covered by leafy, cool grape vines and the towns folk while away the hours sipping cold drinks, and playing cards while watching the world go slowly by. We have easily slipped into this commendable past-time.
Turpan is also famous for its dried green grapes. At the town's edge there are many square brick structures with aeration walls. Herein the grapes are dried and as they are not exposed to direct sunlight, they remain a gorgeous green colour. They are very high in sugar content, due to the conditions of extreme heat and plentiful water in which they grow.
Now the vines are turning brown slowly. This week is a week of celebration as National China Day was 1st October, and it also marks the end of Ramadan. Winter looms, and so now is a time for outdoor celebration and feasting.
Tomorrow our rest ends as we climb out of this low point of the world, back to the vast exspances of desert.
I know we will have thoughts of those cool leafy boulevards, as we huff, puff and sweat or way up, on our journey eastwards to Beijing.

Cameos along a hot, flat, straight, highway through the Taklamakan Desert.

Cotton Road?
We are cycling the Silk Road. However- as we progress Eastwards, I do wonder if it should infact be called The Cotton Road as there is more evidence of that fibre than silk. All through Central Asia we cycled through miles and miles of cotton, saw the cotton pickers, had the cotton laden trucks thunder past us, and saw all the irrigation dedicated to that crop.
Evidence of silk was only in the rows and rows of deformed Mulberry trees along the route which over the years have been stripped every season to feed the hungry worms.
In the heart of the desert- I came across an old, sad-looking poor Chinese man pushing a hand cart. I stopped and engaged in sign language conversation. His cart was packed high with bags of empty plastic bottles and scraps of raw cotton which he had scavanged along the highway.
What a difficult, harsh way to make a living.
I cycled away slowly- wondering how he must view this new China- with its 1.3 billion people all entering the world of consumerism and leaving him caught in a time from a different era.

Campsite between the trucks and trains
Thunderous racket at night as I lay warm and snug in my sleeping bag.
Trucks to the right- and trains to the left - but above a silent brilliant sky with more stars than I felt I had ever seen.

Rain in the Desert
We have only been rained on once while cycling- and beyond belief, it was in the Taklamakan desert. We cycled 175 km that day and it was cold, miserable and we arrived besmeared with filthy road dirt.
But the next morning was washed clean, dust free and I even managed to record a photo of a reflection of the sky in a road side puddle

The Livestock Market in Kashgar

Dawn is breaking and we are headed at breakneck speed in a rickety taxi, to the Animal Market in Kashgar.
I notice all along the freeway in every form of vehicular transport- animals-bundled up together- sheep with donkeys, with goats, in the back of trucks, on 3 wheeled bicycle carriers, on animal drawn carts- all facing the same fate- new owners, or the pot.
We approach a rising cloud of dust with shards of sunlight feebly trying to pierce through the haze. Below is a milling mass of men and animals, and the air is filled with bleating, whinneying, stomping and yelling. Loud shouting erupts to the left. A donkey cart going at full tilt has overturned and the donkey performed an almost perfect cartwheel, in full harness. I am shocked. A dead donkey for sure I think - but no- a few kicks here and there and the donkey strains to rise, head comes up and he is resigned to his fate of hauling the heavy load again.
A scuffle behind me alerts me to a huge onerary Bactrian Camel, pulling at his harness and wheeling around in anger. I quickly move away- to some more action. A magnificent black stallion is pawing at the dirt and letting fly with back legs. As he does this- his harness bedecked with bells and ornaments jingles merrily.
The energy is contagious. I love this working market where the vendors are hauling out huge wads of cash and arguing with potential buyers as they feel, stoke, prod and sniff the available merchandise. The smaller animals like the goats and sheep stand quietly as they are virtually spliced together at the head. They are sold in " rope lengths". Greater numbers are crammed together in movable camps.
My heart goes out to the larger animals - the cows and bulls who are brought in the back of lorries - and then have to make a wild leap to get to earth. There is very little concern for their safety or suffering.....
I wander off fromthe main animal section and bump into a few pale and dazed looking tourists - all clicking away furiously. This is indeed an unrepeatable, if not exhausting experience.
My final action is to purchase a part of a donkey harness- highly decorated and with bells. It is all in preparation for the donkeys I am hankering after for my Harmony in Knysna.
Well - one has to start somewhere!!!???

Check out the photos

My faithful blog followers-
I have been able to post quite a few photos today - but they are a bit out of order with the text - my apologies.
The China photos are first and then the Uzbek ones - and the text is the other way around
Sorry!
Hope you enjoy seeing a bit of my world now/
All is well and the mob remain healthy - fortunately!

My Ode to Autumn in Uzbekistan

This update is a little out of sequence due to our being out of communication. Just to mention that from Samarkand , we headed through the bountiful countryside of Uzbekistan, then briefly into Tagikistan, again into the fertile Fergana valley of Uzbekistan and finally into the hills of Kyrgestan. Here ended our flat riding which covered over 1500km from Turkmenbashi in Turkmenistan.
I loved the autumn countryside and had a lot of wonderful contacts with the local farming folk. I have condensed my feelings into the following Haiku and will post photos to complete the picture.

A veil screens the dawn light
Autumn stalks, padding softly
Air is tight and cool.

Bountiful harvest
Shining scarlet apple piles
Reflect vendors smiles.

Bright pales of plump grapes
green orbs tight with honeyed juice
Gift from a sister.

Cosmos dances wild
In fringes and in ditches
The world's autumn bloom?

Bees have made magic
Their labours measured in jars
Of gold and amber.

Potatoes, garlic
With tomatoes,hebs and chives
Swing thoughts to fireside meals.

The patient donkey
Helps move his winter fodder
With bleak thoughts of snow?

And so the land slows
Succumbing to the rhythm
That always renews.

High in China

We have made it to Kashgar (1200 metres) - the most western city in China and also the city in the world which is furthest away from any sea! China also means hugely improved internet comminication and as we have a rest day tomorrow - I will fill in a few details as to where we have been for the last 2 weeks. For now - a short piece composed in my head as we cycled through the Irkestam Pass between Kyrgestan and China.

I am high in China- high in every sense of the word- elevation, mood, spirit.
The climb on the Talgit Pass in Kyrgestan, up to our highest elevation of 3650metres, was fairly gruelling. It consists of 14 massive switchbacks - and the road is shared with a myriad of trucks, some with as many as 22 wheels, all headed for China. As a result the gravel road is churned up and rendered a dust bowl, interspursed with rough boulders. The air got noticeably thin and in between gasps, the views took even more of my breathe away! Quite indescribable and exhilirating but chasing us up the pass was a snow storm so temperatures were rapidly dropping . The race down the other side was freezing and luckily we were able to stay in a yurt( nomad style felt tent) that night, so were pretty cozy.
Next morning as I crept out in all the foul weather gear I possessed, the temperature read 4 degrees C and wind chill factor was added once on the bike. But my mood was untouchable by mere physical discomfort. Towering above me were snow covered peaks of the Pamir Range reaching up to more than 6000 metres- and they seemed to stretch interminably into the far distance. Shepherds were herding their sheep, goats, cattle and horses down to lower altitudes for the winter, and generally there was an air of urgency to get battened down for the pending snows. Silver ribbons of water snaked deep in the valleys as we climbed again to our last high campsite in Kyrgestan, 20 km from the Chinese border, and as I lay tucked deep in my down bag that night, listening to the howling snow bearing wind - I felt distinctly privileged /
The border crossing for now will go unrecorded. Suffice to say - it was an exercise in hurry up and wait - and having to endure officiousness and beaurocracy taken to new heights.
Into China. The mountains here- the Tien Shen, have an arid starkness and made me think a little of the Kaokoveld. I was in my element, and as the road downhill was now a superb paved one, my spirit soared, I gave thanks for good health and strong legs, thought of my wonderful family and friends- and clocked 75km per hour. Whew!!!

Samarkand - The Fourth Paradise

"And I have not told the half of it"
These are the words of Marco Polo on his return from his epic Silk Road travels - and it is just how I feel about Samarkand.
This city reached its zenith under the famous, notoriously cruel ruler, Tamerlane (1336-1405). He is now, needless to say revered and given almost saint like status - but it must not be forgotton that during his reign, when he ruled over an area that extended from Constantinople, to India to China and up into Russia, he was responsible for the deaths of 17 million people. That is more than Hitler or Stalin could be held to.
However- he was determined to make Samarkand the "Centre of the Universe" and he brought in artisans and architects from all over the world, and he encouraged the arts and scientific learning. The result is a huge central square in the old city above which soars magical feats of architecture in the mosques and medrassas surrounding it. Many have been damaged badly by earthquakes and mans warring stupidity, but even Lenin saw the value in restoring them and began work in this direction in 1922.
Tamerlane's grandson was Ulagh Beg who was a famous astronomer whose star chart done in the early 1400's served as the basis of all navigational charts in the 17th Century.He also calculated the length of the year to within a minute of what we use today. Unfortunately - his scientific leanings went contrary to the religious zealots of the time - so he had his head chopped off.
So I have been seriously educated in Samarkand.We have also eaten well and savoured all the local dishes. The average (male) Uzbeki goes out for lunch and eats Plov- washed down by vast quantities of vodka. Not surprising that afternoons dont seem very productive. The evening meal consists of huge quantities of meat cooked on an open fire on a skewer, and known as Shashlyk. There are always piles of fresh bread, obtained from the female vendors who sell from converted baby carriages which are pushed along at high speed by the youngest boy in the family.
The young students all look very disciplined and respectable in dark trousers and ties and all school kids throughout the country wear the same uniform- and it is always immaculate. It had me wondering if this is the stern, disciplinarian, Russian influence. A group of western schoolkids and students would definately show more individualism and open rebellion. But then Uzbekistan is not known for allowing much freedom of political or philosphical thought - and has insencenced the world over police violence and supression of dissidents.
So my eyes are opening ever wider and my head bursts with all this new knowlege. I am also so enjoying the rural days on my bike- and look forward to heading east tomorrow - into Tajikistan

Bukhara

Our ride into this,Central Asia's holiest city, was an ordeal, but the reward was great as it offers a true glimpse of gracious pre- Russian Usbekistan.
Our border crossing from Turkmenistan into Uzbekistan meant that we started peddalling at noon, with still 100km to go - and the head wind was vicious. As the sun was starting to set, on the outskirts of the city, we spied blue domes and minarets. It had a magical, mysterious feel accentuated by the fading light.
Daylight, and a quick taxi ride into the Old City, revealed sights quite breathtaking. The centre of the city is crammed with medrassas, mosques, royal fortresses and a once vast market complex which served the travellers and traders of the Silk Road. It was also a centre of learning and of the arts, and despite being bombarded by Monguls and Russians amoungst others- its magnificent architecture has survived and is being lovingly restored.
Tourism is in its infancy - but there is unfortunately evidence showing of all the bad aspects - like being hassled by vendors and folk demanding money for photographs.
The Kalon Minaret built in 1127, probably (then) the tallest building in Central Asia, is an incredible piece of work. Despite numerous earthquakes it has needed only cosmetic repairs. Its strength is reputed to be in the mortar which was made from blood and camels milk. Even Genghis Khan was so astounded by it that he ordered it to be spared as he laid waste the remainder of the city.
However- amidst all this spendour lies a violent and bloody history. Criminals were hurled to their deaths from the top of the minaret and the evil Emir Nasrullah Khan was responsible for beheading Colonel Stoddart and Captain Conolly in 1842. They were even made to dig their own graves and they met their doom in front of the Ark ( Emirs Palace) and crowds of rowdy onlookers. The two British officers were players in "The Great Game"- which was the name given to all the exploration and spying in Central Asia-that went on between England and Russia as they fought to secure/extend their empires.England was particularly anxious to keep Russia as far away from the Indian frontier as possible - so there were lots of pacts, promises and lies and battles in the areas which are now Afghanistan, Iran, and in all the massive mountainous areas between.
The colour was also stiking in Bukhara. Streets are lined with carpet vendors and there are also beautiful hand embroidered clothes and clothes. Exquisitely dressed puppets are also an old tradition. Metal work is also an ancient art which is passed down the generations and proudly practiced.
This was a wonderful respite and left us all with a feeling of grace and beauty. The images from "1000 and 1 nights" are real.

Desert camping haiku

EVENING
Dry, hostile desert
Lifted by red setting sun
To peace and splendour


NIGHT
Pinpricks of sparkles
In a dome of ebony.
Woundrous night sky thrills

Into Uzbekistan

It is late on a Saturday night. I am sitting in an Internet cafe in Samarkand, Uzbekistan. The place is packed with teenagers playing computer games and there is very loud Uzbeki music blaring. We cycled 128km today into a potent headwind- so my creative juices are just not up to much.
However- I know it is many days since I updated this blog so briefly wanted to explain.
Turkmenistan is unbelievable - and although there are no internet cafes we were warned that the hotel internet was "Bugged"- as were our rooms - and my cell phone was blocked. We were forced to have a police escort for the entire time we were cycling - and as I was sweep rider - I often had them creeping up my tail, playing discordant music through their loudspeakers - or gesticulating at us to hurry up. Taking a pit stop was a stressful business as often they trailed after one - and in the desert there is very little in the way of decent cover.
I did enjoy the desert riding although 6 days of totally flat cycling gets to the brain a bit.
The city of Mary was a highlight due to an excursion we took to Merv- which is an ancient site where no less that 5 different cities were built over the ages, starting in 300BC. It is a World Heritage site and has contributed greatly to knowlege of early Islam architecture and learning. In its heyday it had a population of 100,000 people and rivalled Baghdad and Constantinople. It was ravaged time and again by warring factions - the Mongols in 1220 slaying every last inhabitant.
It was a moving experience standing on a windswept ridge and knowing that the ruins that lay before me were an important crossroads of the Silk Route that I was now exporing so many centuries later.
We managed to get out of Turkmenistan in a few less hours that it took to get in, but it was still a tedious, irritating experience. We fared better than a poor Belgian motorcyclist who, when we came through had been camping in "no mans land" for the past 3 days. There was something wrong with his Turkmenistan visa - and Uxbekistan would not let him back. A horror story.
Tomorrow I will write about the delights of Bukhara - and try to get some photos posted.

Turkmenistan - has to be seen to be believed

Our hotel in Turkmenbashi, was an aging Soviet Gem- but anything was a relief after our Ferry experience. It was tatty, threadbare and the water was an extraordinary brown colour out of the taps - but I should have known to be grateful, as after a few hours - there was no water at all.
For me though- with its Babuskas peering at your every move and its gaudy gilted, relief ceilings, and having to dip into a 44 gallon drum of water for a shower-it had a certain quirky charm.
Another bus ride was needed to get to Ashgabat to keep on our schedule and I was very disappointed to miss the 3 days of HOT desert riding. A fascinating trip though, with the Balkan mountains to the North, a desert of bossies and then sandy dunes with camels and scraggly goats, then changing to massive irrigated fields of cotton.
Our lunch stop was a on shaded stoep reclining on a thick felt carpet , consuming grilled chicken washed down with chilled yougurt.
I wish I could write a full and detailed description of Ashgabat - but the computer here - is snail slow- and there are no internet cafes.
Just know that the late president of this country - which is a virtual police state and has the second worst press freedom record in the world- set about to build a shining white marble city with some soaring symbol of his magnificence at every turn. There are Ministerial buildings which seem uninhabited - but they are magnificent archiectural feats- created by the President's french architect. Larger than life billboards of Turkmenbashi - " Lord of Turkmenistan" as he chose to call himself - appear on nearly every street corner and there are Arches of Neutrality and Ministries of Fairness and tributes to a range of subjects - especially anything to do with him. He died suddenly in Dec 2006 and his successor has yet to show his colours.
I did smile at their Public holidays - they have more than we do in SA - even have a Cat Day and a Horse Day and a Melon Day!!
There is so much more I want to tell you - but there is a queue for this old steam driven computer - so hopefully in Uzbekistan I can tell you more. Will post photos - but as Internet is not readily available in Turkmenistan - it will be about i 6 days.
Know that I am well and happy and love sharing this with you.

A Caspian Cruise- aka. A Diabolical delay

This was an experience never - hopefully -to be repeated.
I remained bouyant and positive after 2 nights of camping on the dock amidst the squalor and wild cats on Baku dock. The third day dawned and there simply as no action. Finally at midday a train and its wagons appeared and were loaded. Still no official word.
The sun started its downward track and suddenly we had to get everything on the ferry. Much exchange and scrutiny of passports and luggage - and then once on board a Russian woman from hell, kept up a tirade and again our passports disappeared from sight.
We were hearded into the cabins but soon realised that if we were to survive the night - sleeping on deck was the only option. My problem, was that in the scramble to board- I had only managed to extricate my sleeping sheet and Thermarest - so with the wind around my ears but the magnificent stars above my head, I spent a night to remember- slightly chilled but vey invigourating.
We awoke to a magnificent dawn - but no sound from the engine rooms. And there, anchored in the middle of the Caspian sea - we sat for another 24 hours.
There was almost no food or fresh water on board- and a few folks had major sense of humour failures. We managed to get the odd pot of tea and 2 glasses and lots of sugar lumps from the galley- so with playing Gin Rummy reading and sleeping - and not listening to our overactive stomaches- we made it to the night. Ater endless negotiations with obstuctionistic Russians we were allowed into the hold - so my second night was with a sleeping bag and I thrilled at the number of comets and sattelites and shooting stars visible in this unfamiliar Northern Hemishere sky.
And the engines were spewing black smoke as we awoke- so there was hope.
The proximity of land was no clue. We had seen it for the past day as we allowed at anchor.
What I did observe was the paucity of sea birds and the rather dead feeling of the ocean. It is heavily polluted and very shallow and soon the famous Sturgeon, which can grow to the size of a Tuna in its 50+ year life- will be extinct. It is on the endangered list - but Tukmenistan totally disregards this fact.

We docked at 8.00am.
We disembarked at 11.00am
We sat in the sun- attempting to duck under derelict railway carrriages- at the customs of Turkmenistan until 4.00pm when they took pity on us and allowed us to enter the building.
We were finally all processed by 6.00pm. - and all many dollars poorer.

Can you believe a worse waste of an entire day?

A

Baku-still here----

Africa is a breeze to travel though compared to this Central Asia!
Not only is it entirely unpredictable - but any attempt at enquiry is met with a stern authoritarian face, a loud retort- and no worthwhile information at all. At least in Africa - there sems a greater capacity for joy and fun.
We are still stranded on at the dockside in Baku. Ferry is docked but not going anywhere fast.
Ferries at the Turkmenistan end are doing circles in the Caspian Sea - they are reluctant to dock as that costs money. Trains are backing up there also - but until the trains arrive from Georgia - nothing leaves this end.
This information has been gleaned by me over numerous cups of tea and tasty Baclava with the truckers who have also been lined up for days. Some of them have been lined up waiting to get OUT of the dock. They say - the authorities ALWAYS make it dificult and bribes are ALWAYS needed. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that all the Police and customs officers here at the dock drive Mercedes.
So - we wait- and fall behind schedule which may mean another bus trip when we finally make Turkmenistan!!! Miles( the tour leader) and the van is patiently waiting for us - he had to divert through Iran to get there.
But I did have a treat last night.
We went for a bite to eat at a nearby restuarant and were treated to being spectators of an engagement party - complete with traditional Azerbaijan live music and dancing. I even got serenanded by the saxaphone player! Then it was back to the dockside to our sleeping maps and a wash off under a convenient hose - if you could escape the eye of the ever present cops.
I never fail to be amazed by the contrasts that can be experienced in a mere 24 hours!

The adventure rolls on-

Ok - for some this may not be considered an adventure. It could be cause for getting grumpy.
We waited all day yesterday in temperatures above 40 degrees C at the grubby dock side along with queues of unwashed truckers playing Backgammon.
The ferry was leaving at 1.00pm, 4.00pm or 6.00pm - and infact it never left at all. It seeems explanaitions are not really necessary - but a story drifted through that it was not full enough- the train cargo from Georgia had not got through because of the war - so they were waiting to fill the ferry.
It is leaving today - for sure- maybe, at a time not yet disclosed. Any attempt to get close and view loading operations are met with a stern face from a policeman and a gesture implying -
" Push off". It all feels rather Russian.
I will be sleeping on the dock tonight if we do not leave as we are taking turns to guard the luggage and bikes.
The best part of this is - if seen in a positive light- it is a gift of a day. No agenda, no commitments, just time to use reading, observing, snoozing- all in an environment of anomnity.
Naturally - I am itching to get going but I have done justice to the Azerbaijan guide book.
One fascinating snippet. It is these that for me makes travel so addictive and fills in gaps of knowlege.
The Nobel brothers - one of whom was the founder of the famous prize- came to Baku, Azerbaijan in search of Rifle butts. On arrival they saw the opportunity of establishing themselves in the oil business - in1910, Azerbaijan was producing more than 50% of the worlds oil. They prospered and much of the wealth needed for the Nobel prize originated from here. They also saw what a dismal desert dry place Baku was and they wished to have familiar trees of their Swedish homeland. So they persuaded the government of the time to impose a tax on all oil tankers returning empty - if they came back with topsoil, they were not taxed! This topsoil was then used to create the gracious gardens of Baku which still shade the streets today. The first irrigation system for these gardens was from the condenswed water emitting as steam from the oil plants. Later a canal was built from the high country in Russia.
When I read things like this I am overwhelmed at how truly remarkable the world and its peoples are!
Here's hoping that the next time I write - it will be from Turkmenistan.
Thanks for the emails and comments - please keep them rolling - it makes me feel closer to home

The Good , the Bad and the Ugly of Azerbaijan

Situation vacant - experienced road engineers....

A magnificent caravanserai built 1600's in the hill town of Saki

Situation vacant -Meat inspectors....

Sorry - this is too hard to do on the blog- will just post the pictures along the side as before - with captions
Joan

A route map?

Many people have asked for a routemap of our wanderings.
Graeme - an English rider who now lives in Australia - and is a bit of a computer boff- has one on his blog site. I hope to do this too on mine- but in the meantime - take a look at his and hone in on the area which interests you. He has actually ridden from Paris - so part of it does not apply.
Thanks
Here is his blogsite address
http://whereisgraemescrivener/blogspot.com

Azerbaijan

It is an odd feeling to be cycling in a country which was previously part of the mighty USSR.
I am in Central Asia!
I have a little photo essay in my head which I will post on my blog as soon as I get more time on the internet - which is far from easily available here- and in the meantime , a few impressions.
This country does seem to be in need of a helping hand. It apparantly has massive deposits of oil and natural gas, but many of the rights have been sold to massive Western companies such as BP and the profits seem to have made the fat cats fatter and the poor folk remain eeking out a living.
We cycled on the main road from west to east and saw an amazing change of countryside.
It was a spectacular sight to have the Greater Caucasus mountains to the north and the Lessser Caucasus mountains to the south. The flat area between them seemed very fertile and well wooded with deciduous forests and every kind of nut tree. Animal husbadry is also a prevalent pastime and we shared the road with goats, cows. water buffalos, sheep horses and donkeys.
As we moved futher east the country became rather arid and desolate and very very hot.
The roads seem in a constant state of repair and the going was quite tough. The drivers are reckless and love their hooters, but generally folk are freindly and generous and I was often treated to a pear or an apple along the way. Cars are 90% the Russian made Ladas and they are used as bakkies- often loaded to the roof with melons, cabbages, lucerne - even sheep.
The approach to Baku is horrible.
Dry, dusty and dangerous and the last 20km we rode in a convoy. We are staying in an very ropey hotel far from the city centre- an aging, delapidated soviet' gem' Trash blows around continuously and I am so pleased that Louise and I made the effort to visit the Old City which is gracious, and elegant and being well restored ( partially I understand by UNESCO as it is a World Heritage site. ) So Baku did live have its heyday , and it was an important port along the Silk Route.
We hope to leave on a ferry tomorrow - but it seems that in this part of the world - even reservations do not secure your passage - and the ferry goes only when it is full. If there are storms at sea it is cancelled for days/
So we may have more days yet to enjoy Baku!

The week off the bike--

Give me my bike anyday in preference to busses - especially on Turkish or Azerbaijani roads!
I apologise for the rather long delay in news but we have survived a trying and exhausting week and have just traversed Azerbaijan and are in the steamy, rather grubby city of Baku on the Caspian sea.
After hoping anxiously that we may have the chance to bike across Georgia - it became obvious that it was not to be. The entire party complete with bikes and huge bags were bundled onto a small, rickety bus- and we headed south to Ankara. It was a 20 hour journey and to say that it was uncomfortable is a massive euphemism. The only good part was that it was like seeing the country again on' fast forward' and thereby make a more lasting impression.
We arrived exhausted and filthy at 1.00 am and fell into bed in a rather comfortable Ankara Hotel.
A days respite - and then the dismantling and re- packing of bikes into boxes and the chucking out of anything vaguely redundant, as we were then to board a plane and fly- via Istanbul to Baku. Shuttling of goods and people in a small van followed , and then lots of waiting to catch the 'red eye' to Baku.
Our arrival in Baku was unpleasant and unceremonious. We arrived at 4.30am/
A mob of drunken Georgians made immigration and customs more unpleasant than usual and for reasons quite beyond me - my visa was not recognised. So out with the cash and the docile attitude and I finally emerged a legal visitor.
The sun was just rising as we boarded yet another bus and as we drove through a sleepy Baku - the first impression was of a smelly garbage strewn, grey disorderly city cloaked in a grey mist of pollution. And all around, the small oil pumps moving in apparant perpetual motion.
In a semi coma - we were driven to the most westerly town in Azerbaijan - Saki- where we were to resume riding, and so get back on track.
Anything to just get off the bumpy bus struggling through road constructions and battling up steep inclines.
But there was a point of wonder. I was shaken awake at one point and under my nose was stuck a small basin of freshly picked, glistening blackberries. Our kind local contact had taken pity on his load of exhausted, hot hungry Westeners and stopped aloing the side of the road and purchased the blackberries form locals who earn a bit of extra cash picking the berries which grow in profusion along the side of the road. I enjoyed every juicy mpothful- andmomentarily forgave the fact that on my Harmony in Knysan - blacxkberries are noxious weeds which I spend time and money sparaying with herbicide!

In my next lıfe.......

In my next lıfe - I am defınately coming back as a Turkısh male!
They lead a lıfe to be envıed. As we have been traversıng the Turkish country sıde - ıt ıs obvıous that the males take the limelight, and as a result seem confıdent, relaxed and frıendly .
In the course of a day - the male Turk wıll-
1. Drınk tea wıth hıs mates about 10 tımes
2. Play back gammon at a corner cafe, sıttıng on the stoep watchıng the world go by.
3. Fıll the ıntervenıng tıme chattıng on a cell phone
4. Eat grılled meat - usually done outsıde and ın the presence of more frıends - male only - so no need to restrıct topıcs of conversatıon. ( Turks may rıval South Afrıcan as the Braaı kıngs of the world - grıllıng meat ıs a natıonal pastıme and forms the basıs of thıer cuısıne)
5. Pıously pray 5 tımes a day to redeem all other daıly actıons
6. Return home at hıs leısure to the good wıfe or wıves and have a tasty evenıng meal ready on the table.
7. Never have to worry about hıs wıves strayıng out of wedlock - they never even have a chance to speak to other males - let alone flirt.
8. Go to bed wıth a clear concıence knowıng that he has been a good Muslım and adhered to the 5 pıllars of Islam.

What a lıfe !!!

In limbo in Ani

Today I stood on a triangular windswept plateau and gazed across a deep gorge along the edge of which ran an ugly,vicious looking, towering barbed- wire fence. On the other side lay Armenia marked by two massive, sombre- grey manned sentry posts. I was standing in Ani, once a thriving city of 100,000 people and the capital of Armenia; now a rather vacant meloncholy set of ruins.
Armenia and Turkey have a long and painful history of conflict and to date there is no open border beween them. However, Ani has the remains some of the most amazingly beautiful ecclesiastical and military architecture of its time, but up until about 10 years ago it was a "no go" area, traversed only by military personel. Turkey has not been too interested in the ruins of its age old enemy- no matter how archeologically unique- but tourism is starting to change this. The Seljuk Palace has been meticulously rebuilt. It is the only indesputably Islamic building at Ani and is therefore an example of "ultranationalistic archeology"
I spent a wonderful few hours here gazing in wonder at the fine stone work, and detailed frescos and stone carving adorning the remains of churches, cathedrals, and also mosques, as this ancient city, established in 961 AD, has been resident to Armenians, Byzantines, Seljuks and other clans. At one point Ani even rivalled Baghdad and Constantinople, and it was a major trading point of the Silk Route The Mongols raided in the 13th century, causing great damage and then a major earthquake in 1319 struck the final blow.
The remains of the Kale or castle is perched at the highest point and there flies a massive Turkish flag - just to remind the Armenians who is in control..
I walked slowly back to the bus, quite moved by the magnificence of buildings, some constucted one thousand years ago, and how hostilities between nations have resulted in their neglect. I also paused to think of the bloodshed and violence erupting a mere 200km to the north in Georgia. I understand that 2000 folk have been killed and refugees trying to get back to Russia are the worst hit- and I find it very difficult to understand the real reasons for this new unleashing of military force. And life here in Northern Turkey is totally unperturbed.
So we head off on a 14 hour bus trip to Ankara tomorrow. It feels very odd not to be mounting my bike.
Pictures of Ani to follow soon
PS My jamfam@telkomsa.net email address seems to be having problems.
I can be contacted via blog or at jonoloza@yahoo.com
Thanks to you all who send comments on the blog - will try to answer soon. May have time on my hands in Ankara.
Stay well and take care in this crazy world.

Back tracking.......

Modern communication can be a blessing - and a curse - but also a necessary tool .
While I am on cycling expeditions I rather revel in being on the fringe ofthe world- choosing to be immersed in the very here and now, and allowing the woes of the world to pass me by.
So - while we were hurtling on into North eastern Turkey, marvelling at the change of countryside to that of a pastoral people, admiring age old farming traditions -just a few hundred kilometres north of us, an old political grudge was flaring up into ugly open war fare. South Ossetia which is part of Georgia- somewhat reluctantly, was being subjected to the rumble of Russian tanks, and bombings in retaliation for an act of aggression by Georgia - the shooting down of 2 Russian Fighter jets. I am sure it has hit your papers and all the major players are now getting into the fray.
It seems that the situation is rapidly deteriorating to a point where a bunch of 16 cyclists would not be allowed passage through, or would be in possible grave danger from escalating violence. Refugees are also said to be pouring into Turkey and being on an adventure expedition amidst their anguish seems horribly wrong.
So - we are off on a new adventure. We made a south easterly turn and are now in Kars waiting to catch a bus to Ankara from where we will fly to Baku in Aberbijan - and hopefully continue from there. The truck will attempt to get to Turkmenistan via Iran, and after crossing the Caspian Sea - we will rendezvous. The logostics are a nightmare and the boss man from Tour dAfrique - Henry Gold- is flying out to assist. Travel insurance seems destined not to fork out for the new airfare and our bags and bikes will be overwight but we are determined to remain bouyant!
In a moment of reflection - it struck me that this is the second time in my life when a planned overland trip has been truncated by political upheaval. Pete and I in 1978 were stopped short at the Nicaraguan border on route to South America- and we had to do some really underhand moves to get back through Mexico. It seems that we dont learn from history.
But there are a few bonuses. Tomorrow sees us on an excursion to some ancient Armenian acheological sites, we will get to experience more of Turkey - and tonight I am sleeping in a bed!

Backroad delights and other things

The last few days have found us very relieved to be off the main truck drags and onto little used country roads where my old Chariot of Fire Mountain bike really comes into its own.
Eastern Turkey feels much more desolate, poorer, more conservative but has the towering mountains, wide open spaces and big sky which delights my soul.
Along with increasing poverty comes a few negatives- folk begging from these strange white folk on bikes who just by virtue of being there must be very affluent. It is an experience I have had in any emerging country and when it is woman and children who are stretching out their hands - it saddens and discomforts me, and leaves me with a feeling of helplessness to reach a solution.
At a lunch stop we were approached by a young friendly man whose manner was a little disquieting - but I presumed it was just my being sensitive. His wife and a bunch of scraggly kids hovered in the background and on their departure- to our dismay, we discovered that Theresa- our driver- had her bag stolen from the seat of the van. Disaster as it contained money cards passorts and all those difficult to replace travel items. The police proved to be efficient and sympathetic but on showing them photos of the young man - they immediately identified him as a gypsy. " A good Turk would never do such a thing" they exclaimed.
But my moments of wonder continue. I have discovered White Mulberries which the locals dry to make a delightful snack. Beehives abound all over the countryside - and are ofcourse very necessary to supply enough of the golden stuff to drench all those Baclava. Breakfast also usually comes with a saucer of honey and piles of fresh crusty bread with which to mop it up.
Apricots also lie drying in the sun as the farmers harvest walnuts and almonds, apples and pears.
We have a bunch of very dedicated cyclists and although many days have been long and hard- only one rider so far has not completed the distance.
The oldest guy is a wonderful ornithologist Dutchman called Joost and he and I spend a lot otf time riding together as he is slow but very dogged and determined and amazing. Needless to say - I am the oldest woman.
We are at present on a well deserved rest day in an ancient town called Yusufeli which is situated deep in a valley where the river Coruh hurtles through. It is a stop off point for backpackers who wish to river raft. Only a few more days in Turkey until we cross the border to Georgia.
I think that communications may taper off a bit from here on - but please keep the comments rolling and I will reply as I can. I love the idea that I am able to share with you a little in all these wonderful thoughts and experiences.
Medically - so far so good...... ( that is apart from my old arthritic hip! Luckily no problem on a bike)

Travel Haiku

DUBAI AIRPORT

Moving mass of man
Money units- then divides
As we fly to dreams


ISTANBUL

Layers of history
Shimmer off ancient waters
As God gazes down

RURAL CYCLING

Wheels revolve,
thoughts spin.
Natures bounty rises up
Gratitude unfurls

A day in rural Turkey

The road wound easily along a rapidly flowing river which in parts was being harnessed for hydroelectic power and also irrigation. Conifer covered hills rose loftily skywards. I sped down, wind whipping at my smiling face.
I was riding sweep - so plenty of time for educational stops. I could get used to this easy style of cycling.
Densely green leafy trees with a hard green fruit caught my eye. I plucked one, scraped off the hard green covering - and a perfect walnut was revealed!
I stopped on a bridge. Below me were 4 men using very large throw nets - to net trout - a practice I learned later is illegal.
I noticed a family with three beautiful, brightly clad women plucking plants in a field. I scrambled down to find that they were picking a yellow and dark red flower which, with smiles and sign language I was told, was an edible item. Memorising the Turkish word they used - I was able to confirm later that it was Okra- the very young and highly prized variety.
To the left a man hewing grave stones with the crescent moon in place of a cross; to the right tobacco drying on racks in the sun.
I came to a "Tomato stop" Truck after truck, carts and trailers, groaning under the weight of blood red, plump tomatoes, skins stretched tight over juicy innards. The road was almost awash with tomato pulp.
Fruit stalls beckon. The peaches are bigger than fist size and honeyed juice pours out at the first bite
Families eeking out a living selling home made brooms, clay pots, the inevitable tea, but all done with a smile and a friendly greeting.
Right here and now - all feels right with the world.

Scrubbed clean ın Amaysha

A rest day ıs also a clean up day and ı am cleaner now than I wıll ever be agaın ın my lıfe! We are ın a wonderful town called Amasya where the layers of hıstory abound ın graceful elegance.
We decıded that we needed to experıence the local custom of the hammanı - the Turkısh baths and how amazıng ıt was. It was a fırst for me but the Kumancık Mammanı we went to has been around sınce the 1400's. It ıs a rıtual whıch I now realıse ıs all ımportant to the maıntaınance of good mental health for the Turks. The procedure ıs that men and women are allocated separate tımes durıng the day. One enters- strıps completely and then enters the bath house whıch ıs hıgh domed and marble lıned. A thorough dousıng wıth water follows and then there ıs a sessıon ın the sauna where sweat flows freely. Then ıt ıs face down on the marble slab and a lady clad only ın underwear rubs you wıth a rough mıtt untıl the skın lıterally peels off ın dırty layers. Buckets of cold water over the head feel lıke shock therapy and then there ıs a short respıte outsde the steamy bath hall ın a cooler temperature. Thıs prepares you for the soapy massage all over- every ınch of the body. Achıng muscles are pummelled and kneaded and any groans of agony are totally ıgnored. Feelıng completly draıned but extraordınarıly mellow- the process ıs completed wıth a haır wash. Thıs epısode took about 3 hours - but there were four of us somewhat gıggly ladıes and only one stong armed masseuse. The grand fınale ıs copıoıus tea under the dappled shade of a grape vıne. Blıss!!
But on a more serıous reflectıon - I can only ımagıne that for the average Muslım woman - a vısıt to the baths must gıve such a sense of freedom and lıberatıon ın theır usually clossetted and guarded lıves- a tıme to sıt back- be nutured- be naked- and be ın the company of other woman enjoyıng the same prıvıleges.
I can only be thankful that I have enjoyed much greater freedom ın my lıfe but to spend tıme here ıs ındeed an educatıon and a humblıng experıence and one that has engendered a much greater respect for the lıves of my Muslım sısters.
I also had the opportunıty of enterıng an enormous mosque - barefoot and head covered and I felt rather lıke a trespasser-but the men prayıng and medıtatıng were totally oblıvıous to my presence. The muezın was then called and from every corner of the town men approached- washed theır feet and submıtted theır thoughts to Allah. And thıs ıs how ıt has been for centurıes. I am overwhelmed by the constancy of thıs relıgıon.
Tomorrow back on the bıke for 134 km as we head towards Georgıa.
Thanks for comments and encouragement. I love hearıng from you. Check out the web sıte for Tour dAfrıque - www.tourdafrique.com there are some great photos. I wıll send some more of mıne when computer facılıtıes allow.

Tremendous Turkey

It ıs delıcıously hot, people are extraordınarıly frıendly and generous and ın the last 6 days I have gasped at the changıng terraın( also on some of the massıve hılls as I chug ever upwards}
We have made our way, from Istanbul, averagıng 110km per day ınıtıally along the Black Sea Coast lıne where the hılls are huge and well wooded and the rural vıstas fılled wıth folk at work ın the fıelds and tendıng massıve hazelnut plantatıons. Decıduous fruıt abounds and we are spoıled for choıce - apples, plums , peaches melons, pears, quınces, grapes watermelon and fantastıc blood red juıcy tomatoes.
The standard drınk ıs tea - also grown along the Black Sea coast [Turkısh coffee was only somethıng common at the tıme of the Ottoman Empıre - sadly so I am havıng wıthdrawal symptoms} It ıs served ın tıny tulıp shaped glasses and ıs almost a form of greetıng.
We are now ın a town called Osmancık whıch ıs on a hıgh, dry plateau through whıch runs a large rıver along whıch rıce ıs cultıvated. Such contrasts- and thıs holds true ın so many thıngs ın Turkey. It ıs a secular country but almost all ıts people are devout Muslıms and object to not wearıng the headscarves whıch the government does not allow ın schools and offıces. There ıs a strong sense of communıty and carıng for one another - but anımals are neglected. Alcohol ıs sold ın any corner cafe- but you cannot be seen to be drınkıng ıt ın sıght of any publıc. I am fındıng ıt so fascınatıng and we have a hıstory boff wıth us who ıs educatıng me.
As far as my dutıes - I have had work every day so far - medıcally speakıng and have also seen the workıngs of a Turkısh hospıtal as our tour leader was knocked off hıs bıke by a truck. The most tıme consumıng part of the exercıse was the completıon of the polıce report - rıght down to the patıents Mothers maıden name! But ıt all came- Xray ıncluded at no charge, and no waıt and we got served tea ın the bargaın.
My rıdıng dutıes are to be the sweep rıder - so I am learnıng a new style and thoroughly enjoyıng the tıme to stop, take photos and mıngle wıth the locals.
We are lookıng forward to our fırst rest day and I may progress - wıth help to postıng photos on thıs sıte. Masterıng the Turkısh keyboard has been a challenge ın ıtself
Lots of love to all and know that ı do mıss you
Joan

Istanbul =andhow to get ripped off in Turkish

I knew I was in for a run around after my arrival in this very beautiful and vibrant city = but not this badly! I tried to keep a cool head as I cruised from airport to cargo to government office to freight company dishing out cash at evry turn= all with a willing but very reckless taxi driver.
Fimally with my bag in sight I was instructed to return to the very first office
as I had to pay the freight= again! This despite me providing written proof of payment in SA/
No logic prevailed and I also grew stubborn and even tried the tearful option. No luck/
Phone CapeTown = they said. I refused as I had the printout of my electronic payment/
Suddenly = OK pay storage only/ What I cried = bag has only been here less than 24 hours/
You MUST pay for 2 days = Lira 99
Please make it one
OK = Lira 98
I knew I was beaten and I left with a dry mouth an tachycardia after forking out the required bribe/
So I am smiling again and tomorrowthe sun will be shining and I will go on a ferry across the Bosphorus and know that I am a little more travel wise and lucky to be seeing all this/
Stay well and thanks to all those who have sent words of encouragement

Blast off!

I write this in a state of high anxiety. Flight leaves for Istanbul in a few hours - and luckily-I am clutching my passport with Chineses visa in my paw! The attempts of shutting down my life for a 4 month absence have been exhausting and at times unsuccesful- like trying to shut a hyper-active cat into a cardboard box. When you think you are done - it is still mournfully howling.
Thanks to all my friends and Family and especially Estelle from whose house I depart, having used her studio as a pack shed.
I will give this my best shot, will keep my eyes, heart and brain wide open, will try to avoid obvious obstacles and not look for trouble!
I hope to return with many more points of wonder to marvel at and give thanks for this incredible life we have.
I will think so often of home, South Africa and all the people therein whom I love
Au Revoir and Tot siens

Route information

I do realise that my route through Central Asia is a mystery to most - How do we avoid being caught in the crossfire in Afghanistan, abducted by renegades in Iran. freeze solid in the Karakorum Mountains in Pakistan? My recent readings has made it clear to me that the "Silk Route" is not a single road. Over the centuries trade has flourished and waned, often due to political stresses and warring, and the routes taken by merchants with silk, jade, amber and even rhubarb have had to alter accordingly. Our route in 2008 is no different and we are endouvouring to avoid all the potential hot spots. The details are displayed on the website of the Tour d'Afrique website at www.tourdafrique.com
It has loads of information - just click on the top heading of Silk Route and get very jealous!!

6 days to go!!

Life certainly has a way of stretching one to the limit.
I have returned from a week in Cape Town which was to be an orderly arrangement of my business in preparation of my absconding from normal responsibilities for 4 months. It was not to be. My dear Mother -in-law Chenda Haw died peacefully at aged 90 and the week was spent paying tribute to her abundant and admirable life and gathering all 9 granchildren from all corners of the world for her funeral celebration. She was afforded a rousing and emotional send off.
I, when time permitted packed my bag for the 4 months ahead and sent it off airfreight to Istanbul wondering if I should ever be so lucky as to be re-united with it. It was jam packed with camping gear and bike spares and the barest essentials in the clothing line.
My battle to procure visas continues but my passport has emerged from Cental Asia complete with visas from Azerbijan, Uzbekistan, Krygystan and Turkmenistan. China wants me to produce R1000 for each day that I am in China --- and I am in China for 72 days --- so negotiations are still in progress.
It is at anxious times like this when I gaze around at the peace of my beautiful Knysna surroundings, that I have to remind myself that this will all be worth the effort and that the most incredible and wondrous experiences lie just ahead of me---- and a little bravery is needed to just get there.

Preparations

Preparing to traverse the Central Asian landmass with its many "-Stans" has proved a frustrating and tedious business. We will be travelling through eight countries ( Turkey, Georgia, Azerbijan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tagikistan, Krygystan and China) and I require a visa for every one. If you have had the experince of acquiring a Shengen visa recently - multiply the level of bureaucracy and red tape by a factor of 10 and you are approaching the process in which I am still immersed. As I write, my passport is with an "agent" in Ankara, Turkey doing the rounds of all the previous USSR countries. A legacy of paranoia exists still, as visas for these countries require "Letters of Invitation" which have to be approved by the Ministries of Foreign Affairs. I have resigned myself to the fact that I may well have to set off without all the required documentation and hope that somewhere en route I can be legalised. China ,too, is being very awkward due to the influx of foreigners for the Olympics and they are prepared to give me a visa for 3 months which means it will be expired by the time I reach Beijing. Oh well- so I may be extradited- but at least I will have arrived!!

The new adventure

My dear friends-

I have been stable in Knysna, feet on the ground for a year and a half ( except for a little side trip to Marion Island..) so before the wanderlust dims and fades, heaven forbid, I am frantically preparing for the next adventure. But this time I have slightly more credibility as it is a - sort of- job. I am the Medic on a cycling expedition from Istanbul to Beijing, starting on the 26th July and ending in a chilly Beijing on 12th November when the city will still be reeling from the Olympic hype. The expedition company is well known to me - it is Tour D'Afrique who first lured me into trans continental bike travel in 2006 when I rode Cape to Cairo and achieved EFI status. ( EFI ? --every f-----g inch )

Being a member of staff brings with it a new perspective and new challenges. Thankfully, the group is small - about 22 members, so hopefully, less chance of medical emergencies.