Monthly Archives: November 2015

One of the things I enjoy about keeping this blog is getting to experience parts of my trip all over again as I sit down to try and make som kind of sense of it all in written form. Flicking through photos and glancing in diary entries from weeks back in an attempt to recall what I’ve actually been up to.

I tend not to not always notice it on my own, but these flashbacks really make it obvious how fast things are moving, in terms of everything from changing landscapes and cultures to shifts in my head and gut.

Last time I checked in with you guys I was in Golmud. Hopeful – but nervous like Professor Quirrell – and just about to head for that magic military checkpoint situated 30 something km south of town. The one that supposedly isn’t to let foreigners through it’s gates. But unfortunately also my only option for ever getting up the majestic Tibetan plateau, and the one that I so desperately wanted to pass.

This was a situation made to – if nothing else – at least create a good story. And it did. Unfortunately one that’d be a bit too long for me to jot down here, so I guess I’ll just save that one for my grandkids.

I’ll brief you with the short version though:

In full disguise, I left Golmud late afternoon hoping for the best. Reaching the checkpoint I snuck up behind a truck giving me cover from the controllers’ booth. All according to plan. But only until 5 minutes later when I got too curious too fast and ended up super-caught as I tried to sneak a peek of what was going on in front.

Caught and terrified to have ruined my own chances on the mountains I was dreaming of, I pulled out my best poker face and went for it. Being the stupid tourist or the briber, go for kissing up or acting out. There are so many ways to go about these stuff, and I had no plan.

What I ended up doing? Well. Equally horrified and amused, I watched myself kind of play… the girl card.

The one thing that shocked me more than my own creepiness and parodic fake laugh, was that it actually worked. It sure took it’s time, but after a long questioning, a few phone calls and some lengthy discussions amongst the earlier so stern guards – I was let through. Just like that.

??!!??!

So. With my pride left at the gates, the rest of me made a mental victory dance, jumped up the saddle and hit the road before giving anyone the opportunity to decide they’d made a mistake.

I was through. And this was going to be epic.

First thing up to reach the actual plateau is an enormous mountain pass on close to 5 000 meter ASL. As Golmud is situated on 3 000 meters, I was already decently acclimatised, but obviously still needed to keep a slow pace in order not to rise to fast.

Apart from comfortable and gorgeous riding, these days included some lovely hospitality. Nights were already starting to be quite a bit below freezing and when the opportunities of sleeping inside presented themselves, I gladly accepted.

Now, sleeping wise I did just as well camping in that storage room of a gas station as in the temple I’m showing you here. But obviously some places are more made to be shown off in a blog than others. This Taoist temple being one of them.

At first glance this place didn’t feel very welcoming…

But it quickly turned out to be run by the sweetest people ever!

My first ever temple overnight – check!

I was about to make way up my highest mountain pass to date, but it never really felt like such a big thing. Gradients were always mild and the roads flawless. So instead of focusing on a beating heart and complaining legs, I got to enjoy the surroundings and blue skies full on.

At 4 000 meters. Snowcapped mountains AND sand dunes?! Why not, I guess…

Even if I had had to work remarkably little for it, reaching the top of Kunlun Pass was amazing. Once again I was now standing on the highest point of my life, after which I knew the actual Tibetan plateau would be awaiting me.

Coming down from the pass I got a good night’s sleep in the last village on the ‘highway’ I was on, and then started off the next day by taking a left. A turn that in my mind symbolised the beginning of the plateau that would now be my home for the upcoming weeks.

From having shared the road with a bunch of loud and stinking trucks, everything went silent. As if from nowhere, I now again got to ride with that magical feeling of having the world all to myself. The cold combined with me not being able to wipe the smile of my face left me with a more or less permanent brain freeze – and all was good.

Very, very good.

I had been ready for scenic landscapes and stunning views, expecting what I guess could be described as a 2nd Pamir experience. And I was far from disappointed. What I hadn’t been ready for though, was the wildlife I’d find up there. Crazy! Hundreds upon hundreds of wild animals, everywhere and every day.

Do you know these fellows?

Curious, but always ready to rush down their underground tunnel systems

Also, there was more or less constant presence of animals giving away that there (despite the lack of villages) were people around. Occasional yurts dotted across the grasslands told me the same thing.

On this trip there are few things I’ve enjoyed as much as the big highlands. This time surely was no exception, though at the same time it was the most demanding one yet. Not because of the cycling itself. The roads were constantly smooth as silk and winds were not at all an issue in the way it has sometimes been in the past. There was really only one challenge here. The cold.

As soon as the sun was out, days were nice. Not warm enough to start peeling layers, but never with temperatures making the cold an issue. Though on days when the sun decided never to show up, things ended up a bit on the chilly side.

Really didn’t stop this place from being totally gorgeous though.

And obviously – sun or not – the nights on 4 000 – 4 500 meters ASL in November are freezing. With night time temperatures hovering around -15 °C I generally crawled down my sleeping bag wishing for the morning to hurry up. And the space in mentioned sleeping bag I was sharing with everything from batteries to food and bottles of water that also needed protection from the cold.

It’s not like they’re comfortable, but I still really enjoy these things. Anything (well, most things) that add to the feeling of adventure are more than welcome in my book.

There is one thing I enjoy even more though! Something that also tend to come more frequently as the conditions become harsh. Frequent readers of this blog might already know what I’m referring to. Homestays. Despite barely having a population, my ride across the plateau of western Qinghai would turn out to consist of many.

The whole thing was a bit like experiencing Persian hospitality with Pamir views. Food, shelter & amazing company came in from left and right, and thanks to the incredible people along my way I was always taken care of in the very best of ways.

One of the first families that invited me (with Dad behind the camera)

As most kids don’t give a crap about things like language barriers, they quickly tend to become my best friends and teachers when staying with families. In nomadic Tibetan families they tend to have lots of little ones running around, making these evenings the best ones ever.

Morning goodbyes – a completely useless part of the day…

Already beforehand I knew I would love this ride. But by this time I had more than actual proof for it. There is simply nothing like riding mountains. This whole adventure is about freedom. But the feeling of it never gets nearly as intense as when I’m up there, soaring among the clouds.

Best part about this though, was that I still had just only gotten started.

Until next time,

Fredrika

This post starts off where the last one ended. On a chilly but beautiful morning by the edge of the Chinese Taklamakan desert. A morning where I finally got my first glimpse of these.

The last bunch of days in the desert I had been longing for them more and more. I knew that in time China would give me more than my fair share of mountains, and that it could be wise to enjoy the easy cycling my days still consisted of. But by then I was kind of done with easy. And definitely done with sand.

Up was a couple of days climb to my first ever Chinese mountain pass. 3600 meter ASL might sound like a lot, and I guess by all means it is. However getting up there was remarkably easy. Coming in from Central Asia – used to climbing the dirt road Kamikaze passes of Tajikistan – surely played a role in what a breeze I experienced the whole thing to be.

‘Does it even count as climbing, with easy gradients, air full of oxygen and smoothly sealed roads like this?’

After a day of slowly gaining altitude I set camp just a couple of hours from the pass. Next day I would for the first time wake up as a 24-year-old, and figured that saving the pass would be a suitable birthday present to myself.

What my first on the road birthday was like? Different! And awesome.

Though however odd the day might have been – I didn’t have to miss out on too many things of what I remember my childhood birthdays at home to have consisted of.

Breakfast in bed (bag)

I’m an October kid – it’s supposed to be cold!

The sun soon brought some nice temperatures…

…and I got to cash in my present with a clear blue sky!

To top the day off, I crossed my first province border, leaving Xinjiang for Qinghai. Finally I really got to feel some sense of progress, and in other words – this was a good day.

Now one might think that things would really be changing from here. But to tell you the truth, they really didn’t. At all. Once up on the mountain plateau (around 3000 meter ASL), I was hit by just the same monotony I had had company for the last weeks. The only real difference being that most of the sand was exchanged by some kind of gravel, and naturally that the temperatures were now considerably lower.

Luckily, the slap-in-the-face camp spots also joined up the plateau.

I guess everyone has a limit where you’ve just had enough. By now I think I was getting closer and closer to mine, and the cycling started feeling more like a chore that anything else.

No matter how many hours I put into it, I could barely see myself moving on the map, and China slowly started to feel just as overwhelming as it’s supposed to do when you’re stupid enough to go at it on a pushbike.

Waiting for tired cyclists to throw in the towel?

Then – just like always when I need that extra push, life heads straight out to give it to me.

Now this sign might not tell you much. But really, this one made all the difference. This was my first real finish line since starting my Chinese ride. This was…

A turn.

The first actual turn since starting off in Kashgar. Weeks – and thousands of kilometers – ago.

Right for Golmud. Gosh.

No matter what logic would tell me – this was all I needed. That the turn itself was something like a one second event, and that the sign clearly stated that I then had another 359 km before anything else would happen, was completely irrelevant. I was in fact making progress, and this another proof of it.

The last few days into Golmud were good ones. Nothing revolutionary happened, but my head was back into appreciating things by default – and I no longer had to make an effort in order to have a good time. I guess at least some of you know what I mean?

I enjoy my own company a lot more when my mind is set like this. When I unconsciously look for the good stuff. They’re always there of course. But it’s so nice to see them also without necessarily be looking for them.

My first proper prayer flags!

Now this is a menu even a foreign cyclist can understand! (It’s a whole wall)

Even the views started to show up again

Daytime temperatures were still comfortable, but as the nights started getting colder and colder, the prospect of camping got less tempting as time went on. What good does the views do if you’re not out to see them?

There was still no civilization to speak of, but as my ‘sleep inside radar’ went on, I ended up having a couple of really weird – and absolutely hilarious – ‘homestays’ with people working at the industrial areas occasionally popping up along the road.

I consider one of my strengths on the road to be communicating with the people I bump into along it. It was long ago since I generally had a language in common with the locals, but it all tends to work pretty well with some basic vocabulary, body language and a lot of will power.

In China however. It’s so difficult. Never before have I had so much trouble with this, and daily I fail miserably with the most basic stuff you could imagine. Nothing works! At times this is obviously frustrating. But it can also be so much fun. With the right people the lack of communication becomes communication in itself, and when everyone just stops bothering with making themselves understood, the good times comes naturally.

These guys spoke Mandarin with me. I spoke Swedish with them. And it was great! Luckily laughter is universal.

Coming into Golmud I was exhausted. Like really, really tired. From home, I had gotten the best birthday present imaginable at the time – money to stay in a fancy hotel.

I mean. The kind where you have your own shower, are treated to a breakfast buffet (the weird Chinese one, but still!) and someone comes to clean your room every day like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Even my bike got it’s own bed, I think that if anything proves that this place was the real deal.

So what do you do? When you finally get inside, after weeks of working for it?

Damaged as I am. I set up the camera…

Me. For the camera.

Me. In reality.

Then, my friends. I spent the upcoming days the only way I knew how.

I spent them resting.

Hard.

Take care,

Fredrika