South Yunnan. Rainy season. Permanent drizzle and rain. Thick, grey, mist hanging in the tropical air. The hillsides seem like they are slowing falling apart, exposed to the elements. Piles of rocks and deep red earth splayed across the road. We witness mini landslides and some generally small rock falls, causing us to drive an occasional slalom course.
The mood in the front of the car is quiet but concentrated. In the back it’s slightly different: Lun, our guide, snoozing contentedly on the back seat.
C L A N G – B O I N G
A stone had hit Bruce’s front wing! Not just tapped and bounced off, but seared a gash in the metalwork and the thick plastic of the air filter. The errant rock jolted Lun out of his doze and startled us all. What are the chances of being hit like that?!
Welcome to China, Part Two, Day Two!
We were beginning another mammoth adventure of 6,800 km of discovery and mishaps.
Amanda (Spanish), Andrea (Italian), Jens (German) and I (British), had enjoyed the final days of SE Asia in Laos and were delighted to be back in there, even if only for a short interlude, our favourite of the four countries in that sub-continent. The final evening before China, the others found us setting up camp on the roadside, not too far from the customs border: Tim from Switzerland, Anja from Poland and Jeff from France and we celebrated a spontaneous, introductory party evening. For the next 26 days we’re a group of 8 different nationalities: Europe enters China!
Customs and immigration procedures were uneventful, if exceedingly long-winded on the Chinese side, being told to stand in an orderly queue and be quiet at passport control (!) then waiting two hours for a non-existent customs check: not a single door was opened or pocket investigated, but there was a small, unexpected MOT on all the cars in the first town, 40km away.
Needless to say, Bruce passed without a hitch, but with Polenta, the 35-year-old Grande Dame of the group and Fred, her 25-year-old toyboy, things took a little longer as they each failed the brakes test not once but twice and despite being adjusted at the designated mechanic around the corner, also the third test! After an innocent conversation about our plans and the age of the cars, the official finally waved us through and told us to be careful, totally ignoring the fact that Fred’s handbrake wasn’t working at all! Lun had proven his powers of persuasion at the first post. He’d need them a few times on our trip.
The first half of our voyage weaves its way northwards through Yunnan, Szechuan and Gansu provinces and quickly we are surrounded by Tibetan culture and the most stunning landscapes. From the British racing green hillsides with rusty-red soil sheltering tobacco and rubber plantations to the bright, virginal green rice fields in the valleys, with ethnic minorities forming the principal inhabitants, also found in neighbouring Burma, Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. Every day, really, every day of our 26-day passage, we are all agog at the beauty and variety of nature we experience. How can we travel so many kilometres and through so many areas and far from being bored with what we see, we are in awe and elation at everything around us. Every. Single. Day. Amazing, incredible, crazy and fabulous are adjectives that are iterated many times a day between all of us.
Short video of a stop at a river confluence
There are alpine valleys, pine forests, boulder landscapes that arrived from the moon, highland grass plateaus over 4,000m high, clover-filled pastures for the yaks, golden yellow rape fields and the barren landscapes of when you’ve gone higher than the tree line. And on one particular day, we witnessed all of them within 12 hours! We christened that day, “The Day of the Ten Landscapes.” Of course we can’t forget the numerous high passes we crossed over 4,000m and one even over 5,000m. Anything over 3,500m we quickly stopped counting: too insignificant in this monumental area of highs.
The trip afforded a much better chance to acclimatise to the altitude than our first tour and though Andrea was quite sick on the first day and Jens suffered from a bad headache and a restless sleep, the ten days at over 3,000m were medically case-free for all of us.
Don’t forget you can enjoy the photos more if you view as a slideshow: click on the first photo and use the arrows to move right and left. Click x at the top left to return to the blog
After glimpses into ancient Chinese culture in Dali and Lijiang, picturesque but very touristy, with happy memories of our trip there in the year 2000 with Phil, Liz and Laura for us, we were in Tibetan terrain by the end of the first week and were thrilled at the prepossessing people and striking buildings we encountered.
Along the winding country roads, as we rounded each bend, we were presented with another village built in a different architectural style, but all very obviously Tibetan. It was fascinating to see these mini-fortresses, some of them even in Ushguli style (see the photos on our Georgian blog) with Swiss or Austrian alpine tops . And the verdant valleys were a deep green, dotted with wild flowers, far more aesthetically pleasing than the barren landscapes of the first trip to Tibet.
The opportunities to interact with the locals also seemed more present than the first time around. They smile and wave and we can curiously inspect their garb and hairstyles. Unfortunately, they’re more camera-shy than they seem and we have to suffice with the experience and hope the memory remains lucid for a long time to come.
The monasteries we visit are colourful and absorbing and we listen enraptured to the monks chanting and tapping the drums. We even get to play something akin to a singing bowl: seven times round the metal cauldron with a hammer-like stick to bring you a long life. Andrea managed to achieve the most and deepest reverberations, which resonated right into your heart.
This was the monastery with the dead, “Living Buddha,” a high, holy being appointed to one, or maybe more, monasteries shortly after birth. This was a grotesque, bizarre encounter with a dead man, sitting in all his religious get-up and embalmed with something that retains his uncannily lifelike appearance. In the hushed, empty prayer hall atop his ‘throne’ it took several minutes before we were certain he was dead and no, he had not just blinked while staring straight ahead in deep meditation and no, we had not just seen a breath of air emit from his mouth. It was the most macabre, bordering on scary, thing we’ve ever witnessed before.
Underlying our Chinese expedition is an entrenched feeling of pressure: time to get up, time to put in as many kilometres as possible, time to progress somehow. Every day the same discussion: how far should we try to get, what time should we leave, how good will the road conditions be? The latter is particularly important as many times we drive the same number of hours, but on one day that might mean 250km and on another it will be over 500.
Polentas feel most pressurised driving the slowest vehicle with only 70 HP and we would also not be too happy if we had to get up at 6 or 7am like them each day. Fortunately on this trip we don’t have to drive in convoy and at one point we discover the best routine is for Polenta to leave an hour to an hour-and-a-half ahead of us, and Fred somewhere in between. Even then we still often arrive first, but all of us are weary after many days of 12 hour driving stints.
Driving video 1 // Driving video 2 // Driving video 3
Another excellent aspect to this tour is the fact we can camp the majority of the time. Unlike our young guide, Tony, last time, Lun, at twice his age, is more than happy to camp and has a tent and sleeping bag with him. In fact, he is so kind that on the city occasions he rents a hotel room and lets everyone have a shower and use his internet, while paying next to nothing to camp on the hotel car park. For Jens and I it’s a fair way to offset the number of times we stayed in guesthouses in sweltering SE Asia.
This flexibility also allows us to make an impromptu overnight stop at Sesu monastery, which will be inaugurated in four days’ time. An imposing Tibetan construction with a ‘city’ wall surrounding the small, one-storey abodes for the monks – there must be space for at least 1,000 of them. The only jarring element is the enormous, open plaza in front of the monastery entrance, complete with sculptures of elephants, lotus blossoms and pillars of Chinese carvings – totally out of place, along with the multi-coloured night illuminations of the monastery. Still, nothing detracts from the horn musicians as they blow through these magnificently, deeply resounding instruments, followed by phrases with the higher, ‘hunting’ horns and we’re mentally transported to some holy place in Lhasa in the Middle Ages: mesmerising.
The festival atmosphere is apparent in the fields before the monastery, with at least 200 traditional tents erected and awaiting the visitors’ arrival. The main road is lined with hip-high flags, each in one of four or five colours. Behind them, awaiting starter’s orders, at least 50 horses, riders sitting astride, high pendants attached to lances in their hands. After half an hour they gallop passed our spot. Terrific!
Watch the galloping horses here
Tibet proper on our last visit was highly controlled, as expected, but here we are surprisingly subjected to even more police checks. Sometimes they are easy and those ahead of us just have to show their passports, and perhaps their driving licences and number plates, too. But now and then they have to wait for Lun’s arrival in our car, with his package of permits, proof of itinerary and his own personal presence. There’s a strange feeling of mistrust and suspicion in the air, which began earlier one day when we discovered that not only was our SIM card not working, but that the whole area was subject to a month-long ban on internet and SMSs. Big Brother’s Regime of Fear is never far away.
On BBC World, one of the few non-blocked websites in the country, we read of clashes and deaths between ethnic minorities and the ruling Han a little further north in Xining and Lun explains the issue they have there of the sleeping army. Later, we see these small towns and villages in Xining for ourselves, cut off from the rest of their surroundings by barriers and wire-fences and walls: is it to keep people in or out?! Lun, of Han origin, is also obviously nervous to be camping in his tent at night. Tracks in the dunes harbour suspicions that there are military vehicles crossing in all directions. For 2,000 years the Han Chinese have occupied this “frontier” region at strategically important spots, and maintained their Territorial Army-like inhabitants to be trained to ‘protect’ the territory. They were given enough land to be self-sufficient, to irrigate the fields, to have enough resources to survive, etc. The Uighurs, the original inhabitants were also “allocated” territories and land to live and work and given a parallel system of local government. But behind it all sits this “sleeping” army. Whenever the Uighurs try to revolt, rise up or re-take their own land, the sleeping arming is immediately on hand to ensure it stays Han Chinese. These days it’s trickier to keep the peace, with a vicious circle of Uighurs unhappy about the increasing number of Han Chinese, leading to protests and more need for protection and an increasing number of Han Chinese. The army gains constantly in strength and the Uighurs have increasingly less power. It’s only in the larger cities where you can see them living together in ‘harmony’ with soldiers standing on every corner, 4 people back to back, ‘observing.’ Rather disconcerting for the locals and so the spiral grows.
Lun again proves he’s a true, persuasive diplomat at the first strict checkpoint, when he notices Jens and I are travelling on ‘scholar’ visas. It’s the difference between an ‘F’ and an ‘L’ in the corner of the visa, which we never even noticed when we picked them up in Phnom Penh, but sends alarm bells ringing to the policemen. What are we doing here and what are we studying or teaching? We’ll have to drive back! Lun is quick-witted enough to ask where we should return to. Laos? Germany?! Still, there’s nothing to be done but be escorted to the nearest police station 20km away, for them to take down all our details and check with the boss, and he with his boss, that we might proceed. The visa question re-occurred several times on the trip, but Lun always talked his way out of it in his friendly, amusing but deferential manner.
The late lunch stop in Baiyu was a perfect example of such police ‘terrorism.’ We enjoyed a couple of hours wandering up and down this one-street Tibetan town, hardly a Han Chinese in sight; slipping into shops, perusing and purchasing, mainly Tibetan souvenirs on offer, but also some typical Chinese plastic and homewares.
A tasty lunch of noodle soup and a saunter back to the welder, where Polenta is getting a touch-up. We’re not soo surprised to see the “customers” from the soup shop talking to Lun already: plain-clothes policemen. After noting our details, we are stopped and checked again 20km down the road, where we turn off to a monastery and have to go through the same rigmarole. Feigned surprise, like they didn’t know we were coming or who we were… Plain old ‘terrorism.’ Of course, it’s not only directed at us, the locals are also liable to the same checks. In two days a new “Living Buddha” is being ordained and anyone who can, will be descending on the town and the surrounding villages for the celebrations. Too bad we won’t be able to participate, too much under pressure to complete our tour with not too many days’ delay, so we have to make do with the colourful, new flags and bunting being erected and suspended all around.
August is also a month for celebrating for our group: one week in particular: 2nd for Jens, 4th for Amanda & Andrea leaving home a year ago and 6th for Anja’s birthday. We were fortunately a day behind schedule and ended up on the Great Wall, the most westerly section there is. Well-taught a year ago by Janna & Peter (China, part 1), we decide to sneak up on to the Wall on the night of the 1st, in time for midnight and Jens’ birthday and surprised him with a gift of a quiet candle lantern from me, which unfortunately nose-dived, and a set of fire-crackers from Andrea & Amanda.
Imagine! We’re alone on the Great Wall of China, surrounded by desert countryside and few inhabitants save the nearby military base; the sky is pitch black but dotted with hundreds and thousands of stars above and all of a sudden we’re toasting with rice wine, the gift from Tim, Jeff & Anja, and a birthday cake of snickers and tealights reminding Jens how old he’s just turned. Then CRASH, CRACKLE, BANG, CRACKLE PANG, CRASH, CRACKLE the fireworks explode into chorus and the peaceful silence around us is shattered and we sing “Happy Birthday.” Giggling like school kids we crouch down between the walls and await sirens and arrests. Poor Lun will have had the fright of his life, already safely ensconced in his tent and will have jumped out of bed, ready to warn off predatory policemen or soldiers. Fortunately they never appear and we feel safe enough to run back downhill and scramble over the barbed wire fence to continue the party on the safety of the car park.
Our almost 7,000 km hike north through China can be clearly divided into Tibetan culture and Silk Road history. After more than nine days over 3,000m, at least three of which are over 4,000m, we descend rapidly from the Tibetan Plateau into the Tarim Basin and begin a similarly long trek across and beside the Goshen Gobi and Taklimakan Deserts. The contrast couldn’t be greater. The vegetation thins, then disappears completely, as we are fully surrounded by endless sand, sand hills and sand lakes.
Along with the change in scenery we are plummeted out of China and headlong into Persia, before we even notice. The facial features of the typical Han Chinese disappear, heads are always covered and we now have difficulty seeing the ladies. There are mosques all around and there is a bazaar atmosphere in the dusty, sandy oasis towns.
Last remnants of Chinese culture, video
As the days go by, we are aware of the luxury of travelling in Bruce air-conditioned, speedy, comfort and the hardships the caravaneers had to endure travelling along the Silk Road begin to dawn on us. We ourselves need over a week through the desert. I wonder how many weeks they needed. It’s terribly hard to imagine how they survived, or indeed how someone would choose this way of life: barren, life-threatening, blistering heat, monotonous enough to drive you crazy and without natural pointers to aid their navigation. I, for one, would certainly spend my life going round in circles.
But there’s one oddity: I thought I had learnt at school that deserts are dry, without much precipitation and hot by day. We had the honour of being there when it was cold (below 20°C) and drizzly! Though not enough water to bring the desert to the momentary burst of bloom and colour it’s apparently also capable of.
We continue to marvel at the feats of the Silk Road travellers as we left Kashgar, its bazaars and animal market, and Khotan with its Jade Bazaar, and climbed up the red, arid sand of the Torugart Pass and over to Kyrgyzstan. Absolutely incredible how they faced the forces of nature, the heights of the mountains and the depths of the deserts.
We begin to get excited about Tajikistan and the Pamirs and believe the second half of our Chinese quest has provided some good training ground for us!
WOW. If this was China, I have no idea which country we visited in October 2013; not only geographically miles apart but physically antithetical in the landscapes, the peoples and the interactions. This was the better China for the tourists and cultural Tibet was more Tibetan than Tibet proper. A M A Z I N G !
Thanks to our fellow travelers for sharing their photos to make a complete set for us all: Amanda, Andrea, Anja, Jeff, Tim.
Sorry there is no German any more, the translator has unfortunately gone on permanent strike, no cajoling or amount of persuasion was going to change his mind. Hope it’s still understandable for you!
Tripline is up to date and you can see our continued plans here.
WanderWheels' Asia Tour 2013-14 
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Were so lucky to be there! Polenta left Fred because of no interest anymore, start to fall in love with Bruce probably
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Beyond believe! I guess you need a nice St. Tropez vacation after you come back, and than retire….
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