The Complete Story - Part 2

Another fact that was a pleasant surprise for many in our group was the fact that most of Yunnan Province receives excellent mobile phone coverage. For me, I was not so sure that it was such a welcome change. The experience of walking through an old rural village of mud brick homes with their archetypal Chinese architecture, then seeing the proliferation of huge satellite dishes on the roofs and the high number of people clutching their ubiquitous mobile phones to their left ears, always left me feeling a little sad. Others apparently thought that this was just progress and that I should “get used to it”.

After our memorable night in the shadow of the mountains it was time to hit the road again. With the sun obscured by the towering peaks we set off in rather freezing conditions, but the initial steep climb out of town soon got our temperatures rising again. Each bend in the road revealed new wonders with serpentine that snaked their way around the hills (but somehow always seemed to be climbing upwards). By now I was starting to develop my mountain bike climbing skills by utilizing the wide range of low gears and climbing with a higher than normal cadence.

As well as the ever changing scenery, Cathy was always a welcome diversion at the head of the peloton as we laughed and joked over her new English word for the day. With both her parents working as teachers, Cathy had been enrolled in a B.Ed degree course, but she now told me that she knew that her real interest was in cycling – both in racing and in leading cycle tours.

The first new English word I decided to teach her was OXYMORON. I don’t know why I chose this word, but somehow it just happened. This led to a very long explanation as to what the meaning of this word was, with and to a lot of fun thinking up some examples – “a bad Cannondale”, “a good head wind”, “a welcome puncture” were some of the suggestions we came up with.

Although almost everyone in China seems to own a bicycle, for the vast majority it is simply a means of getting from place to place. Cathy was one of the few that had discovered the thrill of cycling for it’s own sake. She obviously enjoyed the thrill of riding fast and competing in races. With her brightly coloured lycra she even looked like a real cyclist. With her tiny structure it is little wonder that she seemed to be able to climb hills without any effort whatsoever.

Speaking of climbing hills, one of our riders made the decision to apparently forsake common sense by refusing to change gears on his bike. Martin Delich from New Zealand belongs to that unique group of mountain bikers who believe that all riding should be done on a single gear. After the first introduction to his allocated bike, he selected the gear he was to use for the rest of the trip. No matter how steep the climb or how fast the descent, Martin never once resorted to touching his gear selector. I am not sure whether this earned him the respect of his fellow riders or whether it just served to reinforce our opinion that all New Zealanders were a little crazy in the head.

There were also some who thought there might have been another reason why Martin seemed to prefer riding at the back of the peloton, but it is probably better to leave that topic alone.

The continuing series of climbs from Bai Shui He were to bring us to the highest part of our ride at approximately 3500 metres. Each time we crested a summit we were reluctant to lose altitude as we all knew that we would only have to climb back up again to yet another even higher point just around the next bend. When we finally rounded the last bend and were told that we could go no higher I was almost a little disappointed. Amazingly enough I was actually beginning to enjoy grinding my way up those hills. Maybe this was just because the surroundings were so special that they took our minds off the pain we were fighting.

It seemed a logical thing to do to stop at the summit to pose for series of group photos. Cameras were passed around while shutters clicked and mouths ached with broad smiles. This moment reflected both an individual and a collective sense of achievement so no one was in too much of a hurry to move on. By comparison, the descent we were now faced with would seem to be something of an anti-climax by comparison.

We had been warned that “whatever goes up must also come down” and we were all about to see just how true this was. In order to cross the mighty Yangtze River and enter Tiger Leaping Gorge we first had to drop at least 1500 metres in altitude. Whilst this might normally seem like a lot of easy fun, in this case “fun” is not really the first word I would choose to describe what followed next. In fact, the descent manifested itself in a 35 km continual downhill on a rough cobblestoned surface. Even after the first few kilometres, you begin to feel that every bone in your body is being shaken to pieces. With my video camera precariously perched in my front pannier I started to imagine just how hard a time it must be going through. I wondered if it would it ever work again.

I spent some time trying different strategies – riding in the centre of the road, riding on the edge, riding fast, riding slowly. Nothing seemed to work. The front suspension of the bike pounded fiercely as it fought to carry my 95 kg weight down the hill. I started to wonder whether the bike was ever intended to take this kind of abuse.

As I looked ahead I noticed that some of the others who had less inhibitions than I obviously had, had simply abandoned all restraint and just let gravity take it’s course. Soon our riders were stretched out over many kilometres and I was once again riding in splendid isolation. Talk about the “road less traveled” – it seemed like the rest of the world was an eternity away as I gradually progressed down towards the valley floor so far away below me. It was hard to believe that I could go on downhill for such a long, long way, surely it felt so much further than the familiar 1100 metre descent from the summit of Mt Donna Buang in Australia.

I finally came to the realization that, if I continued with my current rate of progress, it would take hours to reach the bottom. Trying not to think about the consequences of a crash, or about the wellbeing of my precious video camera, I finally let go of the brakes and pushed down hard on the cranks instead. The speed quickly built up so that I was almost flying along. At this point I made an interesting discovery. If I allowed my speed to increase it reached a point where the shaking actually reduced in intensity. Maybe at this speed the wheels did not follow the bumps, but sailed over the tops of them. In any case, it certainly made for more efficient progress.

After about 2 hours of this torture I turned the final bend and was greatly relieved to see the support van waiting for us by the side of the road. At this point the road could go no lower since we had reached the floor of the valley.

When all the riders had survived the descent we were directed to a local inn for lunch. This involved an intricate series of turns down narrow lanes, across creek beds and over loose rocks until we finally entered a garden courtyard where we were told to stop. The abundant flowers hanging from the buildings and the beautifully curved lines on the buildings made me feel like I had stepped straight into a willow pattern.

The only problem was that a head count revealed that we had two riders missing! Whereas in Australia this would be regarded as a par for the course, in a foreign country where none of us could speak the language, the prospect was a frightening one. Fortunately Marysia, one of the missing riders, soon arrived but Kathleen was nowhere in sight. Various search parties were sent out looking for her, but 30 minutes later she was still missing. It was not until over 45 minutes had elapsed that she was eventually located in another nearby village. It had been a distressing and unfortunate mishap, caused in no way by any of our own crew, but by relying on a local to point out the way for our riders. It turned out that he preferred to sit and have a smoke than to do the job he had been asked. We immediately discussed procedures to make sure that such an event would never occur again. Once our missing friends were located we were much relieved, thinking of how frightening it would have been for anyone in that position.

After lunch, a short ride took us to the top of the steep bank of the Yangtze River, where a group of locals were already gathered to carry our bikes down the steep and slippery bank to the ancient ferry waiting at the bottom. This path demanded all our concentration, if we did not want to slip and end up cascading down into the raging torrent a couple of hundred metres below us. The sound of the nearby rapids made a continuous background roar that echoed up the gorge.

The last 50 metres or so were particularly difficult as we had to slog thorugh deep black sand that had us sinking in up to the ankles. It was a relief to finally be safely at the bottom, although a glance at the prehistoric ferry and at the rapids about 300 metres downstream did little to settle the nerves. The ferry looked like it would make Humphrey Bogart’s African Queen look like a jet boat by comparison. With a narrow rusty deck and two struggling old engines it was the only thing that stood between us and oblivion.

The bicycles were stacked on board and we followed them on, struggling to find any leftover space to stand up in. The motor struggled to life pulling the ferry from the shore and out into the current. There was a collective silence as we held our breaths and willed the motors to keep chugging away. A couple of bravado comments from the comedians in our midst did little to ease the tension.

I looked across to the opposite bank, where there was not only no obvious landing point, but also no discernable path back to the top. Never the less the aging “Captain” seemed to know where he was headed – straight into the opposite cliff face. Ahead of us lay a daunting scramble back up to the top of the bank, towering at least 200 metres over our heads. In many respects this was the most difficult part of this very long day’s exertions. We were not used to walking, let alone climbing ap such a steep slope carrying our back packs. The climb seemed to go on forever, with each upward step followed by a slide back down again. With our chests heaving and our hearts pounding we just survived any way we could.

What a blessed relief it was to see the small van at the top which was to transport all our packs on to Tiger Leaping Gorge. It was an even bigger relief to find our familiar bikes also safely waiting for us. Our day’s work was still far from over. Although it was after 5 pm we still had a considerable ride ahead of us in rapidly fading light.

Since Tiger Leaping Gorge was to be the undoubted highlight of this trip we had all been eagerly looking forward to our first glimpse of this natural wonder of the world. With it’s towering, almost vertical, cliff faces reaching 4000 metres above the thundering Yangtze River it is certainly a spectacle with few equals. As we began our long awaited entrance to the Gorge our expectations were certainly not disappointed.

With its incredible vertical dimensions the Gorge challenges your normal perceptions of space. Michael Palin, in his recent Himalaya book, says that Tiger leaping Gorge gave him a overwhelming sense of vertigo, almost convincing him that he could fly. It was indeed an “otherworldly” feeling that accompanied me on the final few kilometres as we climbed up to Sean’s Guest House which was to be our home for the next 2 days.

Each turn of the road revealed a new vista to be awed by. It was tempting to stop every 100 metres or so to take photos but we needed to be at our destination before nightfall, so there was no alternative other than to keep pushing on. Finally I turned a corner and Cathy told me that I had arrived. All that remained was for me to carry my bike up the steep stone steps to the courtyard in front of the guest house, where I would finally be able to rest. Over the next 30 minutes or so the rest of the riders arrived and made their final stagger up the stairs. By 6.45 pm we were all safely at the end of our day’s efforts, very glad that we would have a rest day tomorrow to recover and explore the Gorge.

Sean, the owner of the lodge, is an interesting character. With his long pony tail and his Australian (ex) wife I suspected that he was something of a Chinese hippy. His guest house is a welcome destination for the steady stream of backpackers that come from all over the world to hike the gorge. Apparently he is also one of the finest experts on all the walking tacks that are available for the ardent explorer.

The accommodation, although basic, was comfortable and clean and I think we all had one of the best night’s sleeps of the entire trip. We awoke in high spirits to watch the rising sun progressively illuminate the towering cliff behind us. It would be hard to imagine a more impressive place to sit and enjoy a meal, especially once we discovered that the kitchen at Sean’s could produce a staggering array of mouth watering dishes – all at a very modest cost and with a minimum of fuss. I was thrilled to find that they even made cappuccinos! What more would a cyclist ever need ?

After a delicious morning breakfast we disbursed in different directions on our individual journeys of discovery. Although the road was of a very high standard we found that almost no vehicles passed along it. We were therefore able to walk back through the Gorge with no interference from passing traffic. The only noise came from the river so far below us. This was truly a special place, which I suspect touched every one of us in a slightly different way.

The rest day proved to be a most enjoyable chance for all of us to unwind and recharge our batteries after the days of hard cycling which were now behind us. We well knew that we would probably never be back at this spot again and wanted to make sure that we could all soak up as much of the experience as possible. For some it provided an ideal chance to just sit in the sunshine while enjoying great food, drink and conversation.

After another good sleep and a breakfast of hot oat porridge, it was back on the bikes again to complete the second half of the Gorge. Somewhat surprisingly, after the rest day, we were all very keen to get back to pedaling again and see what new sights awaited for us. We were not disappointed, if anything the second half of the Gorge is even more spectacular than the first, although we soon discovered why the traffic had been so sparse.

In this part of the Gorge the road is still in various stages of construction. In many places we rode along precarious rocky ledges, trying not to look at the landslips and rockslides all around us. We even had to ride under a succession of small waterfalls that cascaded down onto the road from the cliffs above.

It was while riding under one of these that we suffered our only accident of note on the entire trip and unfortunately I was the victim. In an attempt to provide a good photo opportunity I decided to ride closer to the falling water than common sense should have dictated. I soon realised the folly of this maneuver when I found the bike going one way while my body went the opposite way. The next moment I was sitting in the water feeling rather stupid. It was not until a few moments later that I noticed that the little finger on my right hand was no longer pointing in its familiar direction. I quickly popped it back in place but for the next few days a blackened and swollen digit reminded me of my stupidity. Fortunately it did not stop me riding.

Further on along the Gorge we met the other section of the main road where the Chinese tourists come to see the site of the mythical tiger’s famous leap across the river. What concerned us most was the preliminary works that were being started to construct huge dams across the river in this region which would result in a large section of the gorge being changed forever. Surely this would be environmental vandalism on a colossal scale.

Once out of the gorge we followed the mighty Yangtze (more correctly called the Jinshu River at this point) further upstream to the key town of Shigu. This location has special significance for the Chinese as it is the location where the river makes almost a complete U turn from its southward journey to head back northwards into the heart of China. Many Chinese make this a special place of pilgrimage and the town contains large monuments to the Red Army to commemorate the crossing by Mao Zedong in 1936.

The road led us through a series of rural villages before we reached a long straight section of high quality bitumen. After struggling with my lack of mountain bike skills for the past few days it was a good chance to be able to crank up the speed with some tight team riding. For 20 km or so Cathy, Lothar and I were able to maintain a speed of over 30 kph to arrive early for lunch. Along this section were many obvious signs of growing prosperity with new estates, underground power and fancy new petrol stations.

Another feature of this region was the incredible strawberries that we saw being sold at numerous roadside stalls. Freshly picked, bright red and succulent, we were to discover that they tasted as good as they looked. In fact I cannot remember ever having a strawberry that tasted as good as these. If only we could get them like this back in Australia.

At Shigu we spent some time wandering the town and walking down to the actual bend in the river. I guess that many towns all over the world have their own “colourful local identities”, and we found that Shigu was no different. We soon met a local whose sole claim to fame was that she carried a trussed live duck about on her head. As soon as she saw us approaching, she proudly put the duck on her head to pose for our pictures. Apparently she thought this was quite a clever skill and put out her hand for a donation for her efforts. Another example of private enterprise I guess.

After leaving Shigu we parted company with the Yangtze by turning on to the old main highway from Lhasa to Kunming. With an ancient history dating back to the old Silk Route, this road has played a key role in trade for thousands of years. Although a busier thoroughfare than we had previously been riding on, we found that the vast majority of the Chinese drivers were most considerate to us. Every kilometre along the road there was a stone marker showing the distance from Lhasa. These mile posts provided a convenient way to chart our progress.

We were to continue almost due South along this road to our next overnight stay at Jian Chuan. After an initial steep climb we were able to enjoy more relaxed conditions as we passed through a regular series of small rural villages enabling us to observe everyday rural life taking place before our eyes.

One aspect of these villages that I found particularly fascinating was the fact that each village obviously specializes in a specific trade. We passed through villages where everyone was working in stone and others where the streets were full of coal fired kilns making roof tiles and pots. The skills were presumably passed from generation to generation, although with the technological revolution taking place we wondered whether these old skills will survive the next generation. Outside the villages, the surrounding landscape was rich and green, bursting with abundant production from the family farms.Read more