We were making our way the only way we knew how.
'beat all we ever saw 'till we got in trouble with the law and they made us return.
Tibet or not Tibet. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the stings of outrageous misuse of uniform......
Copious snow and confounding officials led us to backtrack a way and try a more southerly route. Anja’s handlebars tired of the journey on a real rough stretch. They were loyal enough to snap at a low speed causing no spill, and submitted to being splinted with wood and string for the short hobble into the nearest town.
A replacement was not to be had but my rummaging around in the back of a few metal workshops produced a stainless pipe of the right diameter. Comically, the boss would not sell it to me for any proffered sum and invited the street in to laugh at my ludicrous idea of replacing handlebar for straight pipe. Foolish foreigners. I had little choice but to ride off, bar in hand to the cackle of laughter and shaking of heads. I got it cut to length in a different shop. If it wasn't back up a big hill I would have rode back to show off my finished handiwork and got the neighbourhood back to eat their words, whatever they were.
We spent some days with a pair of adventurous Spanish cyclists. Alberto and Alicia, who had also been on the road for a year. Rough roads, waiting for landslides to be cleared, talking two wheeled talk and swapping tall tales of high times. An un-awaited pleasure to ride with company. It was sad when we parted ways and Anja and I headed S.West into deep-red, goat-scoured hills and towny dusts which, with gaining altitude turned to leafy rain and pine-needle camps by watery falls.
Once again we were clambering over the garden gate into Eden. This time Eve ruled the roost. Each river cut a deep valley now as we followed ever decreasing flows to passes that divided climates, vegetation, head wear and house-stiles of the natives.
In two days we had descended from chain gangs of trucks wallowing in snow, slush and ruts to harvest time in golden, winnowing valleys. Almost all was reaped by hand and often laid on the road to be threshed by the tyres of passing cars. The next valley grew enough onions for everyone in China. It smelt a sweet pleasant smell and a few found their way into our kitchen bag.
Back in prayer-flag land we came one morning to Lu Gu Hu. A Lake up high. Bluer than blue. Bigger than small with boats dug out from trees. Pined hills, Willowed banks, log and earth built dwellings. Floating islands where princesses preside over one of the last great matriarchal societies. The hats are good too. This will be a hard place to leave.
The only others showing pale faces around this blue and green patch of paradise were Mike and Adam, a cyclist and a hitch-hiker equally enamoured with this part of heaven. A great evening was spent grilling our food over charcoal, drinking beer and chatting until what for us was relatively late. Good luck guys.
Tomorrow we delve into Yunnan. To Lijang, the Leaping Tiger Gorge and other tantalising touristic delicacies. Well, its a few hundred miles of hard terrain but we are promised a road with a friendly surface. The friendliness of the people here seems to run a little deeper.
'beat all we ever saw 'till we got in trouble with the law and they made us return.
Tibet or not Tibet. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the stings of outrageous misuse of uniform......
Copious snow and confounding officials led us to backtrack a way and try a more southerly route. Anja’s handlebars tired of the journey on a real rough stretch. They were loyal enough to snap at a low speed causing no spill, and submitted to being splinted with wood and string for the short hobble into the nearest town.
A replacement was not to be had but my rummaging around in the back of a few metal workshops produced a stainless pipe of the right diameter. Comically, the boss would not sell it to me for any proffered sum and invited the street in to laugh at my ludicrous idea of replacing handlebar for straight pipe. Foolish foreigners. I had little choice but to ride off, bar in hand to the cackle of laughter and shaking of heads. I got it cut to length in a different shop. If it wasn't back up a big hill I would have rode back to show off my finished handiwork and got the neighbourhood back to eat their words, whatever they were.
We spent some days with a pair of adventurous Spanish cyclists. Alberto and Alicia, who had also been on the road for a year. Rough roads, waiting for landslides to be cleared, talking two wheeled talk and swapping tall tales of high times. An un-awaited pleasure to ride with company. It was sad when we parted ways and Anja and I headed S.West into deep-red, goat-scoured hills and towny dusts which, with gaining altitude turned to leafy rain and pine-needle camps by watery falls.
Once again we were clambering over the garden gate into Eden. This time Eve ruled the roost. Each river cut a deep valley now as we followed ever decreasing flows to passes that divided climates, vegetation, head wear and house-stiles of the natives.
In two days we had descended from chain gangs of trucks wallowing in snow, slush and ruts to harvest time in golden, winnowing valleys. Almost all was reaped by hand and often laid on the road to be threshed by the tyres of passing cars. The next valley grew enough onions for everyone in China. It smelt a sweet pleasant smell and a few found their way into our kitchen bag.
Back in prayer-flag land we came one morning to Lu Gu Hu. A Lake up high. Bluer than blue. Bigger than small with boats dug out from trees. Pined hills, Willowed banks, log and earth built dwellings. Floating islands where princesses preside over one of the last great matriarchal societies. The hats are good too. This will be a hard place to leave.
The only others showing pale faces around this blue and green patch of paradise were Mike and Adam, a cyclist and a hitch-hiker equally enamoured with this part of heaven. A great evening was spent grilling our food over charcoal, drinking beer and chatting until what for us was relatively late. Good luck guys.
Tomorrow we delve into Yunnan. To Lijang, the Leaping Tiger Gorge and other tantalising touristic delicacies. Well, its a few hundred miles of hard terrain but we are promised a road with a friendly surface. The friendliness of the people here seems to run a little deeper.
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