Tour of the Dragon, 2nd Sep 2017

I realised I never finished my last blog on completing the London-Paris 24 hour race… fear not, I won’t bore you with it now, but I made. So here I am, writing to you 4.5 years later. You must be thrilled! I hear chairs across the planet creak under the pressure of everybody’s asses moving to the edge of them, eagerly awaiting why I have come out my self-inflicted 4.5 year hibernation. Well. I wanted to write up my experience of the most physically & mentally challenging event I have completed to date; The Tour of the Dragon in Bhutan (www.tourofthedragon.com). Dubbed the “Toughest Mountain Bike Race in the World”, it starts in Bumthang at 02:00 and finishes in Thimphu whenever you’re able to drag your mind, body and spirit (as well as your own body weight in mud) across the 255km and 4 x Himalayan mountain pass route. I first heard about this race in February 2011 when I visited Bhutan and it’s been on my radar ever since. Now that I’ve been living in the country for 1 year, there was really no excuse for not participating. I tried my hardest to fabricate an injury to pull out, unfortunately my body refused to comply. So I had to train…

Tour of the Dragon, 2017

Training:
For those who know me, training is not something I enjoy. I would rather spontaneously turn up at events and see how my body fares in that moment in time. However, having talked to a few riders who had completed the tortuous race, this approach was undoubtedly too cavalier. Luckily I live at 3,050m in Gangtey, with terrain more undulating than the Baywatch teams bodies, the perfect place to train for such an event. For 8 weeks leading up to the race I went on the first diet of my life, to remove the 10kg that my summer of indulgence had added to my body. I lifted a 10kg sack of rice and decided it would be a terrible idea to carry this half way across Bhutan. My diet consisted of no alcohol (except a Gin & Tonic binge 2 weeks before the race in Singapore), no carbs and no snacking. The diet had the desired results, but I have decided that never again in my life will I consciously remove beer and spaghetti bolognese from my life. Ever. Aside from this self-inflicted torture, training included numerous rides in and around Gangtey valley, trying to push myself rather than taking leisurely rides. It is always tough to motivate yourself to train when it is raining outside, but such is life in the rainy season in the lead up to the ride. What was even worse is that whilst it was raining, I knew the roads on the route would be getting progressively worse… 8 weeks was probably not enough, but it’s never really enough. Nevertheless, on Wed 30th Aug I travelled with Passang (fellow Gangtey Lodge rider) from Gangtey to Bumthang for the 3 day lead up to the race. The journey took 9 hours due to the rain, mud, stupid lorry drivers and landslides – none of this boded well knowing that I would be peddling back through it all in 72 hours.

Pre-race:
I arrived battered and bruised in Bumthang at 21:00 on 30th Sep, with my bike fortunately in 1 piece hanging off the trailer. The saving grace was being welcomed into the reassuring Amankora Bumthang bosom and being met by John Reed (Amankora Bhutan General Manager), Guy, Jason, Christian & Peter – a group of 6 reprobates who had been nervously bantering via e-mail about the race in the lead up, and who also foolishly signed up to the Tour of the Dragon. Guy & Jason had been coerced to travel from abroad, whilst John, Christian & Peter all had prior experience of the ToD from the previous 7 years of the event. Hearing their stories induced nervous excitement and “shit your pants” thoughts in equal measure. The next few days consisted of the following:

• Getting blessed at multiple monasteries around the valley, taking all the good fortune I could get.
• Private blessing at Amankora Bumthang by Rinpoche, who also blessed our bike
• Cycling and chatting with His Royal Highness Prince Jigyel Ugyen Wangchuck up to the Burning Lake for another blessing.
• Chatting with riders for hours about riding tactics, sleeping before the race tactics, snacking tactics, clothing tactics etc. These conversations would always result in everybody realising how woefully under prepared they were, as somebody else’s tactic seemed superior.
• Someone who know something about bikes (pretty much anybody but me) realising that my break pads had worn down to metal, rendering them useless. A good thing to realise before cycling across Bhutan in the mud.

The camaraderie between the riders over these few days was something I won’t forget. Knowing that we were going to be in this together, experiencing the same pain, tackling the same roads, was reassuring and comforting, especially as they were such a formidable bunch.

BBQ dinner at His Royal Highness’ palace

The Team

Travelling by bus to be blessed

The Riders

Guy, Me, Christian & John

Being blessed by Rinpoche at Amankora before the race

THE RACE:
Trying to go to sleep at 19:00 is not the easiest thing to do, especially with butterflies in your stomach about the following day. Fortunately I got a few hours shut eye, woke up at 00:45 after multiple wake up calls (love a good snooze), got changed into my biking gear, grabbed some heavy carbs and rode out with the Amankora Tigers, in the dark of night, to the town square. Despite it being 01:00, the whole town turned out at the start line, including His Royal Highness Prince Jigyel Ugyen Wangchuck, his entourage, 100’s of cheering school children, 8 of the King’s personal bodyguards on motocross bikes (to guide us through the mud pits in the dark) and the 35 crazy riders nervously pacing about, wondering what the hell we were all doing here. Surprisingly the hour of standing around flew by and the 02:00 start was upon us. 10 seconds before the starter gun, there was a flurry of GPS beeps switching on, lights powerful enough to guide a Boeing 747 flipped on and final tiny packets of disgusting goo being consumed. We were off towards the first pass of the race, Kiki La at 2,883m. As the roads were beautifully paved, it allowed riders to warm up their bodies, have casual chats with whoever was around them and enjoy the night ride. The chatter slowly quietened down when the switchbacks up the pass began, leaving only the whirring of the wheels and the heavy breathing of the riders as noise. Cresting any pass is always a sense of accomplishment and this one, despite it being the “easiest” of the tour, was no different. After spying the Chorten and prayer flags from a distance, the first whoop of the day escaped my lips, safe in the knowledge I could enjoy a fast downhill. Caution was still needed, as travelling at 45-50km/h in pitch black with the road strewn with sleeping black cows and cow pats can be treacherous.

As soon as the downhill began, it ended, with the second pass, Yotong La at 3,416m (the highest point on the race), looming ahead in the darkness. Having never cycled up this pass, only driven down it, I had no bearing of where I was and how far was left. This is always a tough physiological battle, especially with no riders around me at this point, constantly thinking the next corner is the last corner. Due to the darkness, I couldn’t read my Suunto watch for the altitude either. I just had to peddle on, hoping the top would come soon. Encouragement came in the form of road side volunteers cheering you on, support cars driving past and His Royal Highness personally encouraging you at various points. Not many races gets personal encouragement from royalty, a real treat. Only 39km (of 255km) into the race and at 04:50 I arrived at the top of Yotong La. I took my first few minutes off the bike to prepare for the mammoth downhill in extremely muddy conditions we had been warned about, as well as drink and eat as much as I could in 3 minutes. The next 100 minutes were spent cycling from 3,416m down to 1,894m, over 35.5km of the thickest and sludgiest mud you can imagine (approx. 5km of this was paved road). Bhutan is going through a stage of widening the main highway from 1 lane to 2 lanes, which means everything is being dug up. Combine this with the tail end of the rainy season, you get 35km of sludge, with a healthy doss of cow shit mixed in. Advice to keep my mouth shut on the descent was well heeded. Along with the 8 motocross riders escorting you through the worst bits (they had the best job!), large sections of the downhill were lit up by volunteers and diggers working on the road. The race organisers really did try and make it as palatable and safe as possible, but the odd tumble was to be expected. Half way down the ascent the sun began to rise, which was a breath of fresh air and made riding in the melted chocolate ice-cream a tad easier.

Me, Guy & John

Riding through the mud

06:30 / 75km in and I reached the bottom, which is nice, but knowing that you now have 60km of thigh-burning uphill (from 1,894m to the top of Pele La pass, 3,402m) is not the most comforting thought. Cycling through the mud going downhill was bearable thanks to the momentum, but uphill would prove to be a whole different animal – at some points feeling like you are cycling on a running machine; putting in the effort, but moving nowhere. At this stage of the race, my bike was making all sorts of un-bike like noises with mud and grit covering every inch of my bike and lower half of my body. Despite riding for many years, my mechanical skills remain below par, and all I could think of is spraying water at my break pads in the hope the grit would magically fall away. At every aid station there were incredible volunteers, who would clean your bike the best they could, service it, hold your helmet and ply you with snacks and water. Without them, nothing would have been possible. The first 30km of this climb, which was quite mellow to begin with, was truly tortuous. Remnants of mudslides to your right, sheer cliff drops to your left and nothing but mud and cow shit ahead. It took every ounce of mental strength to convince my mind that I should continue and that it would get better. The breathtaking views across the valleys did help alleviate some of the pain and take your mind away to a better place. When I commit to difficult stretches like this, my mind enters an almost trance like state, concentrating on the simple things such as not falling over, finding a rhythm and simply not stopping for anything. I also become strangely emotional in this trance, with a simple act of a little boy handing me a lukewarm bottle of water from the side of the road enough to make me well up. I can’t explain it, it just happens. Finally, about 105/110km in, and halfway up the climb to Pele La, the sludge eased off. This felt like a minor victory getting this far, but a firm slap in the face was required to make me remember that plenty more was to come. The rest of the climb up Pele La consisted of; riding with His Royal Highness for 10 minutes and getting plenty of personal encouragement from him, remaining in my trance state of plodding on and thinking of the whole Gangtey Lodge team and my dog, Bagheera, waiting for me at the top. These 3 things kept me going, especially up the very steep end of the climb.

Cresting Pele La

Cresting Pele La

Cresting Pele La

Cresting Pele La

Stuffing my face

I reached Pele La, 134km (approx. halfway), at 12:23 and was greeted by the whole Gangtey Lodge team and a very enthusiastic Bagheera – this was a true delight and one that I wish I could have relished for longer (i.e. forever and snuck off to the lodge for a hot stone bath and bottle of wine). However, a mechanic was on hand to tune up my bike after the worst of the mud, I shovelled food, electrolytes and water into my gob, changed some items of clothing, plugged in my tailored ToD playlist (full of the good stuff; Foo Fighters, Avicii, Pendulum, Eminem and for course…my girl Beyonce) and set off on the 55km downhill. As this pass is my home turf I knew every corner and pothole, allowing me to fly downhill with renewed energy and fervour for 2 whole hours. At one point I thought I had channeled the powers of Moses as cars and lorries ahead of me were parting like the Red Sea as I motored down. Sadly it was not superhuman powers, it was one of the motocross riders behind me beeping his horn and waving the oncoming traffic to make way – I was too busy singing along to Bruce Springsteen to notice the hullabaloo behind me. Despite the downhill being immensely fun, it did take its toll on my hands and upper back due to the rigid position I was holding for most of the time. A few impromptu back stretches were due whilst descending at 40km/h – not something I’d recommend and something the motocross rider commented on at the bottom, wondering what the fuck I was doing. We parted ways once I hit the bottom (1,226m, the lowest point of the race) at 14:35 after 190km of riding. I thanked him, stripped down to just 1 top for the first time in the race, gobbled up more calories and carried on.

Cycling along the “flat” to Lobeysa

Cycling up Dochula

Cycling up Dochula

From here on in, the road was completely paved (or Black Topped, as they say in Bhutan and I have embarrassingly adopted). This brought its own psychological challenges. I’m used to cycling a road bike with paper thin tyres, not fat-tyred mountain bikes, which was the equivalent to driving a tank instead of a Ferrari (in my warped state of mind) due to the extra friction of tyre on the road. The next 10km were relatively flat (by Himalayan standards) until the final ascent to Dochula (3,113m) began. 7km into the easy part of the climb I took 1 last major stop at Lobeysa. Here I are dumped my rucksack I had been carrying the whole way, changed shirts into my lucky pink Breast Cancer Care top, devoured a hamburger (only food food I’d had all day) kindly prepared by Chef Tshering from Uma Punakha, slammed as many dense energy bars, Snickers bars and goo packets as humanely possible, plugged back into my kick-ass playlist and kicked on feeling energised, fuelled and enthused for the final climb. For the first time all day I cycled standing out of the saddle, such were my energy levels, seemingly enjoying life and my current situation. I was buzzing. I was naive to think this could last 39km / 1,600m of ascending, and unsurprisingly my boundless puppy-like enthusiasm began to wane, and wane fast. I passed Guy, who had been ahead of me since the first 20 minutes of the race, who had also hit a physical and mental wall. He was an absolute trooper though and continued no matter what, true grit. I found it hard to find my rhythm and trance state climbing Dochula, nothing would work. My mind tried everything from counting sheep and dreaming of the finish to trying to empty it completely – nothing worked, except being really fucking stubborn and continuing to prove to myself that I could. That and Eminem shouting abuse in my ear, along with the odd primal scream from me to kick me into action. 10km from the top the heavens completely opened and darkness enveloped me once more. I thought this would mentally effect me even more, but it surprisingly had the opposite effect. It injected me with inspiration and motivation to get to the top of this bastard pass, which by 19:28, after 232.75km of riding, it did and I summitted.

 

Despite everybody (volunteers, supporters, tourists, monkeys and dogs) having disappeared, except my driver Sonam Dorji, to attend the award ceremony at 19:00, this did not detract from my sheer joy and elation of reaching the top of the final pass. It was an incredible feeling, interrupted by Sonam trying to coerce me to get into the car to drive to Thimphu. I look at him perplexed and amused at the implication of me not rolling across the finish line on my bike. I rummaged around the car to find any layer I could wrap under around my body to keep me warm on the 23km / 750m descent to Thimphu, inhaled 2 more Snickers bars and set off on the most liberating (and freezing) downhill of my life, with Sonam tailgating me with his full beam lights for added safety. Apart from nearly running over a sleeping dog in the middle of the road, I powered through to Thimphu and arrived at the clocktower square at 20:17; shivering, smiling and shattered. The award ceremony had finished, everybody was slowly packing up, but seeing the familiar faces of John, Jason, Christian & Rishi at the finish line made my day. Although I didn’t make the official cut-off time, the race organisers couldn’t deny me a medal and a firm handshake, which is all I wanted. Not long after me Guy flew over the finish line, looking as bewildered but elated as I must of done. However, he had some colourful language to throw into the mix, which made everyone laugh, hoping it was tongue in cheek 🙂 We embraced, we made it.

Receiving medal

Medal

Medal with Bubbles

Post-race:
The first question I ask myself when I complete these events/challenges is, “Why did I do it / why do I put myself through this misery / what am I trying to prove?”. I wish I had the perfect Sky Sports-esque interview answer that you could sew on a pillow, but I don’t. All I can say is that I think it’s a mix of testing my body, but more interestingly my mind, and seeing how far they can be pushed and how they react under extreme situations. But also, the camaraderie and laughs surrounding these events, and the bonds you form with people you would not otherwise have met. It’s these connections with like-minded, slightly unhinged, people that make it worthwhile and memorable. I will remember the conversations at the pre-race BBQ dinner at His Royal Highness’ palace and the laughs at the post-race BBQ at John’s house, more than the pain my ass endured and the amount of cow shit I accidentally ate descending Yotong La. Will I compete in 2018? I don’t know, but for now I will savour the memories of the 2017 Tour of the Dragon.

Post-race BBQ

What a spread, thanks John

WOW

Thank you team!

A few stats:

• Total Distance 255.11km
• Total Ascent 4,701m
• Total Descent 4,940m
• Lowest point 1,226m
• Highest point 3,416m
• 15,740 Calories burnt
• 14 km/h average speed
• 53.5 km/h top speed
• 129 average bpm (heart rate)
• 179 highest bpm (heart rate)
• Ascent time 12h07m30s
• Descent time 5h07m40s
• Flat time 1h02m06s
• TOTAL time 18h17m25s

London 2 Paris 24 cycle

Many of you were kind enough to donate towards my cycling adventure from London – Hong last year, for which I am extremely grateful. I was really touched by the amount of people this journey reached out to and the personal stories people had about breast cancer. Thanks to everyone’s astonishing generosity we managed to raise a staggering £20,160.63 for Breast Cancer Care, and the money is still coming in from the various talks I’m still giving.

I got immense enjoyment from cycling nearly every day for 180 days and my cycling fitness & passion has benefited tenfold because of it. Therefore it will come as no surprise that my next challenge will also centre around cycling. I thought it might be time to test my cycling capabilities against like minded people in a full on race; the London2Paris24 race. This will be a physical as well as a mental test. The physical test comes in the form of cycling further in 1 stint than I have ever done before (280 miles / 450km) and the mental test is staying awake for 24 hours whilst keeping up a gruelling pace to reach the finish line in Paris. I’m quietly confident I will reach the finish line, but my personal goal would be to come in the top 20 (out of 300), testing my body & mind to its limit. The plan will be to give hourly progress reports as well as updates on my physical & mental health (deterioration) for you guys to follow.

As a group of 300 cyclists, we are aiming to raise well in excess of £350,000 for Scope by raising at least £1,200 each. I am thrilled to be part of such a positive adventure for Scope and with such a great group of guys & girls. To help me reach my £1,200 target, please donate as little or as much as you can at http://www.justgiving.com/markwrightlondon2paris24. Thank you so much!

Scope works with disabled people and their families at every stage of their lives. From offering day to day support and information, to challenging assumptions about disability and influencing decision makers – everything they do is about creating real and lasting change.

They believe that a world where all disabled people have the same opportunities as everyone else would be a pretty incredible place for all of us. Together we can make it happen. To learn more about their work, please visit http://www.scope.org.uk.

Donating through JustGiving is simple, fast and totally secure. Your details are safe with JustGiving – they’ll never sell them on or send unwanted emails. Once you donate, they’ll send your money directly to the charity. So it’s the most efficient way to donate – saving time and cutting costs for the charity.

So please dig deep and donate now.

On the road again…

Donkey: on the road again..I can’t wait to get on the road again.
Shrek: what did I say about singing?
Donkey: well can I whisle?
Shrek: no!
Donkey: well can I humm?
Shrek: Alright.
Donkey: hmmm hmmm hmmmm hmmmm hmmm.

Or for those who like the visual: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Myb-eAt_RxY.

Yes, I’m back on the road. Yes, I will be Zac’s annoying little donkey all the way back up to London. Yes, I am as unprepared for this 7 day / 1,020km cycle as I was leaving Buckingham Palace back on 14th April 2012. Why should I change a winning formula? More on my lack of preparation and Zac’s utter dismay (what were you expecting buddy) at my ineptitude later. You may also be wondering why I’m writing another blog, which would be a very reasonable question! Part of me misses writing to you lovely people, part of me enjoys putting my erratic thoughts down on ‘paper’ and the biggest part of me can hear Zac furiously typing away next to me about his adventures from Faro to here and I wanted to be part of it again! If you’re already bored, click here to read his, most likely more interesting, stories – he is currently laughing at my futile attempts to try and make a train journey sound riveting. I will give it my best!

Before that, let me briefly bring you up to speed… Since my return to London 4 months ago I have thoroughly enjoyed regaling my tales from the road to whoever cares to listen, or at least feign interest. This has included my talk to friends & family at St George’s Church back in November, my old prep school Yardley Court to a very inquisitive bunch of 7-13 year olds, Breast Cancer Care headquarters in London, the Savile Club in Mayfair, London and in many pubs & bars across the land, with a few more schools lined up. My good pal Paul Nugent even got me into Off Track Planet, an online travel magazine, in a feature called ‘This Guy’. I think I get the biggest kick out of these events as I get to re-live my journey through the photos & videos I share with people, remembering all kinds of highs & lows from those moments captured on camera. Despite constantly returning to my time on the road last year, I am also looking forward to future adventures in life and on the road. I would like to be able to tell you what these are, but even I’m not 100% yet… The idea of Polar adventure is being sown in my mind and Zac brought up Race Across America last night after lots of red wine (an 8 day cycling dash from east to west coast). Whatever it is, you will know in one way or another.

Back to the present now, as who likes to dwell on the past… I am sitting in rural France in the most idyllic country house in Saint-Matré, just west of Cahors in the South of France, where I am being hosted exceptionally kindly by Richard & Fiona (Zac’s family). I have travelled here in order to keep Zac safe & sound for the remainder of his around-the-world-cycle, or as he puts it: ‘ you are here so that if my bike collapses on the last leg I can use yours as a back up’. Charming! My journey to Saint-Matré may not have been as adventurous as his cycle across Australia, New Zealand, the United States of America, Portugal, Spain and a supposedly nippy ride across the Pyrenees, but it did have its hiccups. You would have thought I learnt a thing or two from cycling from London to Hong Kong last year. It would seem I hadn’t. I haphazardly threw some clothes & kit into my panniers without looking at the weather forecast or terrain in France and set about the gruelling 12km cycle from Balham to St. Pancras at 06:00 to catch my Eurostar to Paris. One would think that I would know a thing or two about travelling, since it is my day job, but I guess I still haven’t learnt that taking a 3 inch blade through x-ray machines and customs is not a good idea. My favourite camping knife is no more. My clumsiness continued upon disembarking from the Eurostar; I left my money wallet, with my passport, money & credit cards, on board the train only to realise its absence 20 minutes later. My dumb luck has remained with me, as a very kind family returned it to me whilst I frantically searched for it. I plodded out into Paris with 2 hours of free time before my train left for Cahors, so I did what any other sane British tourist would do: I cycled to Notre-Dame, had an espresso and a cigarette, had an argument with the waiter about tipping, listened & sang along to Edith Piaf whilst cycling along the Seine, had steak tartare with a Kronenburg, argued with another waiter, ate a chocolate eclair, looked suitably arrogant, stepped in dog shit and made my train with 5 minutes to spare. And what did you do Zac…cycled 190km through the freezing cold?!? Pffff. The train journey to Cahors was uneventful, apart from getting off at the wrong stop. I can be such a plonker.

The ‘tough’ journey was worth it to be reunited with Mr Clayton. His youthful good looks and ear-to-ear smile made me think how jealous Sophie must be that I’m here and she’s not 😉 The car journey back, however, filled me somewhat with dread with Zac telling me how insanely cold it has been in the mornings with tent poles and gear systems freezing up and asking me what the route looks like to Calais. He looked at me and said “you’ve come prepared right?”, “you know the route right?”. Alas! My silence said it all. I was greeted with mocking laughs and the expected insults as my panniers consisted of cycling shorts, light summer gloves, a mediocre jumper, a game of Bananarama and no maps or GPS whatsoever. What I thought might be a leisurely jaunt is already making me shudder in my 2mm thin summer socks. Despite the taunting, the frost lingering until mid-morning and the fear of being grossly unfit compared to Zac, I couldn’t be more excited about hitting the road tomorrow for the daily 150km grind for the next 6 days. The camaraderie, the camping, the quality time spent with my forgotten friend/teddy Rocco, the painful thawing out of fingers & toes, the punctures, the French food, the slipstreaming and coming up with the next botched adventure to get me through 2013. I am so not ready, I am ready. Bring it on…all over again!

Zac writing blog

Waiting to board the Eurostar

Richard & Fiona’s idyllic French country house

Paris

Videos from the road

I trust that you all had (are still having) a festive Christmas with your bellies full of Turkey, pudding, cheese and chocolate as well as wine, port, brandy and ale. The chances are that your gluttony has resulted in you being enveloped in a warm and cozy couch watching Jingle All The Way or Ice Age 3. Should you want a time-out from those classic films, you should have a browse through some of my recently uploaded videos from my cycle.

The whole catalogue can be found here http://www.youtube.com/user/markhedleyful/videos?flow=grid&view=0 … or you can click on them individually below.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all!

Love,
Mark

View of Trieste, Italy – 2nd May 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkzQmWo609E 

Waffling along the Croatian coast – 8th May 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FENBdKkdDOE 

Bay of Kotor, Montenegro – 11th May 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RE-4DSaR7pU 

First glance of Aman Sveti Stefan, Montenegro – 12th May 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lho2UBfGOzs 

Losing the plot in Turkey – 5th June 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86YVoqb44sk 

Tour of my campsite in central Turkey – 5th June 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HemW-RXBOrE 

Peaceful morning in Turkey – 17th June 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSg0-mOTQdc 

Arriving in Tabriz, Iran – 11th July 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXkgHZtnpOM 

Toughest climb in Iran – 14th July – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nbg749gWjoM 

Night before Caspian Sea, Iran – 14th July 2012  – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOLCKALn3S0 

Super tired in Iran – 23rd July 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZ5Vyrzv2eE 

Mini twister in Iran – 31st July 2012  – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmf3-wyEJZU 

Pamir mountain range, Kyrgyzstan – 20th August 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfqCEHgwOUI 

Slipstreaming with Zac, China – 26th August 2012, Part I – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjy9dxA3wvA 

Slipstreaming with Zac, China – 26th August 2012, Part II – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gh-u7nQsVn4 

Zac showering in the Taklamakan desert, China – 28th August 2012  – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jR4TDBz0JM 

Feeling blue in the desert, China – 31st August 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PUPLxDm99I 

Zac blasting it in China – 16th September 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mytnEYofxNk 

Labrang Monastery in Xiahe, China – 17th September 2012 – Part I – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HH2wXK8hfcs 

Labrang Monastery in Xiahe, China – 17th September 2012 – Part II – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJ4CGbTRgGc 

WHOOP downhill, China – 18th September 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1Tp5eSHZXU 

Low point in China – 28th September 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqFNvrhkPH8 

‘Rainboo Road’ in China – 28th September 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSJE3mH18uo 

Shit day in China – 2nd October 2012 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=187aezcUIeA 

 

28th November – time for a giggle :)

Hello gang,

How I have missed writing to you on a regular basis! I can only hope the feelings are mutual in you missing reading my waffle. If you do miss it, I can now offer you the next best thing … me waffling in person with a whole host of bad-ass photos and raw video footage seamlessly edited together to create a cracking night! Cheap cash bar of alcoholic & soft drinks (all proceeds going towards to Breast Cancer Care) as well as nibbles will be supplied. Facts for you to know:

Date: Wednesday 28th November 2012

Time: 19:30 meet – 20:00 kick-off – finish when you stop asking questions

Location: St George’s Church, Aubrey Walk, London, W8 7JG*

Cost: £0.00. Raising money for Breast Cancer Care

Who can come?: ANYONE** – spread the word…

RSVP: markwright_2@hotmail.com or via Facebook event

*Getting there: A short walk from Notting Hill Gate and Holland Park Tube stations, and also on the 94, 31, 148, 390, 70, 27, 28, 52, 328 and 452 bus routes. No excuses really.

** If you have a dinner party planned for that evening, cancel it and invite everyone along instead!

I look forward to seeing many of you there. There might even be the odd surprise thrown in 🙂

Love,
Mark x

For those not involved in the Facebook page, here a few articles I managed to squeeze into:

• South China Morning Post, Whim and a prayer
• TimeOut Hong Kong, The Wheel Deal
• Ampersand Travel blog
• Old Tonbridgians website
• And my favourite, the local Sing Tao paper

Local paper ‘Sing Tao’. I believe they said nice things.

p.s. something to brighten up your weekend and with no relevance to any of the above whatsoever. Possibly my favourite YouTube video of ALL time. More for the guys, but I hope the ladies appreciate it too …

Is this the end or the beginning?

“Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing” – Mohammed Ali

If I ever have the pleasure to meet the great man himself, I would like to question him on one minor aspect of this exemplary life mentality that I’m trying to instil in myself: “Mr Ali, I’m finding one thing immensely difficult at present, verging on the impossible – how do I shake this Godfather of a hangover I currently have? I don’t believe I will ever get over it, therefore some things surely are impossible?!”. I would like to imagine he would reply with these 4 words that have served me so well over the last 6 months: “man the fuck up!”.

I will do my very best to sum up the last 72 hours (what I remember anyway) in what happened and how I felt. The latter is naturally more difficult to put into words and more reflection over time may be needed so go easy on me.

My time at Harrow International School was fantastic. The school meals were delicious, the kids (and teachers) bombarded us with questions and wanted us to sit on their table for lunch – having a 7 year old come up to you and asking very politely “Sir, could you please sit on our table today” broke my heart – and our presentation to the school went surprisingly well. As we were the first outside talkers at the school, the kids had no idea what to expect. So when we cycled into the lecture hall in full lycra and laden bikes to Bright Side of the Road by Van Morrison, they looked a bit baffled. We quickly settled into our thoroughly rehearsed and well planned intro’s (cough cough) before talking about recurring themes of our trip with the aid of some kick-ass photos. The kids seemed suitably engrossed and there was no shortage of questions at the end, some were very funny indeed. That night we celebrated the fact that we didn’t embarrass ourselves in front of 300 kids & teaches with a few beers.

12:30 , Thursday 11th October 2012 – I woke up at a leisurely time of 09:00 with butterflies in my stomach, which I quickly dispelled by telling myself to treat this day like any other. Zac & I spent the morning drinking coffee, eating Nutella, shooting shit (for those of you that English is not your first language, this is not literal!) and generally lounging around Mr Maynard’s flat. I did not want to be late for the 16:00 party, so we decided to leave at 12:15 to cycle the last 35km and hopefully have a leisurely dim sum lunch on Hong Kong Island. Well, that was the plan… We lugged our bikes to the grand entrance of Harrow International School, took a few photos and began the baby cycle towards Hong Kong Island with plenty of time to spare! Within 5 minutes my chain slipped off. No biggie. We calmly stopped, told each other that something had to go wrong and continued on. 1km later, another slip. 3km later, another slip. Give…me…a…fucking…BREAK! This had to be fixed so my panniers were taken off and the bike assumed the position upside down so I could shift the rear wheel back a few millimetres in order to tighten the chain. Nervous laughter was shared between us, wondering if 3.5 hours would actually be enough to cycle 35km (this would normally take me less than 1.5 hours). Due to the short distance and our shocking naïveté we weren’t carrying any food or water. With my chain fixing stop, the midday heat of Hong Kong and there not being a shop for 8km, we were parched. You would have thought that I would have learned a few things on the road. I have, but apparently not to ALWAYS carry water with you. We arrived in Kowloon at 14:30. This gave us 1.5 hours to cycle the 6km to the Star Ferry harbour through a dense urban environment and having only a vague idea where the harbour was, cross from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island on the Star Ferry, have our relaxing 1 hour lunch then cycle 4km up to The Peak Tower at 350m above sea level. Challenge accepted. We darted through Kowloon skipping way too many red lights (sorry Mum) and having a few closer than close shaves with buses, pretending we were bike couriers on nimble fixie’s not sweaty bike tourers on lumbering (but beautiful) touring bikes. We found the Star Ferry crossing and were ushered on with the skivvies below deck. Time was tight but I knew that the ferry stage was the time to relax as there was nothing I could do to make it go quicker. From the ferry I could see the Peak Tower. It seemed so close but yet so far, and high! The thought that my friends and family were most likely already there , sipping ice-cold champagne made the butterflies re-surface.

Needless to say, the relaxing 1 hour dim sum lunch did not occur. Rather, we frantically peddled around looking for the Peak Road that would lead us to glory. As soon as we did, a momentary sigh of relief was taken so we decided to compose ourselves for 5 minutes and to prepare for the ridiculously steep climb up the peak. This preparation took the following shape; inhaling a road side BBQ pork and rice dish, eating a Snickers in 2 bites, downing a Red Bull, drinking plenty of water and choosing the correct music for final climb. I chose the outrageously awesome In Your Honour (Disc 1) album by the Foo Fighters. It must have been extremely unhealthy to have had my blood pumping and heart beating as fast as it was at this stage. To say I was pumped would be a severe understatement, I was chomping at the bit to climb this sucker. What was I feeling at this stage? I think my overriding emotion was excitement. Excitement at being so close to having a glass of champagne with my Mum, excitement at the last 4km up a tough hill with barrel loads of adrenalin coursing through my body, excitement (and a little dread) of the night ahead. But there was also sadness. The journey is about to have its final chapter, I am 4km from hopping off my bike for the last time. No more strangers inviting me into their homes, no more 04:30 alarms to witness the world awake from its slumber, no more roads leading me to the unknown, no more many things I’ve fallen in love with from this journey.

All of these feelings soon fell away when Zac & I began the climb, which began straight way with no mucking around, and were replaced with one simple feeling, why the hell did we inhale a giant bowl of pork & rice seconds before cycling uphill! I was very very bloated. Not ideal on a gradient of 15-20%. The Foo Fighters were on full volume though, offering encouragement for every rotation of the peddles and allowing me to block out all else. The higher we climbed the more stunning the view became, the more I sweated, the more adrenalin was being released. About half way up we met a road cyclist who lives in Hong Kong, a barrister called Yang. He very kindly cycled with us for the final bit and joined us for some bubbles on The Sky Terrace of The Peak Tower. Thank you for making sure we didn’t get lost for the last 2km Yang! We arrived at the bottom of The Peak Tower at 16:01, not bad timing me thinks. I might ask Rolex to sponsor me next time. If you must know, my iPod was serenading me with Purple Rain by Prince for the final 100m. Before I was allowed to see everyone on the Sky Terrace, Mark had organised a bit of press coverage (TimeOut (already out, click here) South China Post and a few other local publications) so some cheesy photos needed to be taken. Zac & I then squeezed our bikes into the miniature elevator to the top. Half of the Sky Terrace was closed off for the party, so when the tourists saw 2 cyclists with their touring bikes going up the final bit on the escalator surrounded by security and photographers, they must have thought we were of some worth. Little do they know, we are not. But the experience was fun!

I cycled the 4 metres across the finish line and I was done. For the first time that day I allowed the butterflies to have free reign and flutter wherever they pleased. Even more so when I saw Sophie & Steve (two of my very best friends from London) who had flown all the way to Hong Kong without my knowledge. Behind them were Mark, Steph, Jack, Nick (brother), Dad (it was his birthday that day) and my dear Mama. These moments were beyond special and are beyond words. Champagne flowed, interviews were given, hugs & kisses were everywhere and the view from The Sky Terrace was one of the best of the trip. I felt like a very lucky boy. We remained on the terrace for 3 hours having a fantastic time with the sun setting behind the world renowned Hong Kong skyline. I should have employed someone to pinch me every minute.

What follows on from the Sky Terrace should and won’t ever be written about, mainly because no-one remembers what on earth happened over the last 60 hours. But here is a little snapshot: Zac & I cycled down from The Peak to the hotel in the dark and post champagne – best downhill of my life! – and I got a puncture 2km from the hotel, of course, turning respectable hotel rooms into places no cleaner would dare enter, multiple bars being drunk dry, multiple dance floors being worn thin by our shape throwing, toilets being pushed to their limits, the odd bit of hotel bed swapping (FYI, there were 2 girls, Sophie & Steph. Steph is in a relationship), room service was abused, McDonald’s shares were increased, my facial hair metamorphosed from night to night and from strength to strength, 8 of us had as much sleep over 3 nights as 1 person should have in 1 night, tourist sights were avoided like the plague apart from the Star Ferry harbour tour which at least half of the gang slept through (the clock tower is 44 metres high, the only fact I remember from the cruise) and the laughter was beyond relentless. I think I can safely speak for everyone present in Hong Kong that we had more than a good time. I certainly won’t forget a second of it – well the few seconds I remember anyway.

I am receiving a whole bunch of questions at the moment ranging from feelings, best & worst moments from the trip, but the most interesting, difficult and common so far is, what’s next?? I’m not exactly sure myself, but I know I’m only scratching the surface of what I want to learn about myself, about other people & cultures and the world. Many ideas are bouncing around my head, as well as perhaps teaming up with my new partner in crime, Zac. Our minds are scarily linked and tuned into the same wavelength, is it love? Who knows… Before I worry James, my boss, too much, I am fully committed to Ampersand Travel. I guess my definition of adventure is slightly different to the Oxford English Dictionary’s one. Adventure to me is breaking the daily routine that all of us have got caught up in at some point in our lives. It doesn’t have to be spending 6 months cycling from London to Hong Kong, it can be going to the Lake District for a camping weekend with a mate or by yourself, signing up to do a triathlon even if you can’t swim, walking home from work as opposed to taking the dreaded tube, asking a boy/girl you’ve always fancied out for an ice-cream (or 3 for me!) or simply changing your breakfast routine, why not shower before breakfast or vice versa. Change that shit up! All I can say for now is watch this space. Will ‘The Wright Way …’ become my personal reckless brand? Who knows….

The End (of the beginning…)

Love,
Mark

Some stats: 16,531km cycled, 19 countries, 180 days exactly from 14th April – 11th October 2012, many punctures and £11,791 raised for Breast Cancer Care so far.

Thank you all so much for reading this blog with such enthusiasm and being actively involved in writing back to me. It has reached more people that I could have ever imagined. For those that have donated to Breast Cancer Care, I am eternally grateful. For those that still wish to do so, please do at www.justgiving.com/thewrightwayeast. It would be fantastic to raise more money than kilometres cycled. I am yet to donate myself, as is a certain Mr Walliams (hint hint… :-). For those that wish to know more about the trip, see some more photos and watch the premier of my amateur video compilation, I will be hosting a few talks & charity events upon my return to London. Dates, locations etc. will be published plenty of time in advance knowing my planning skills. So again, WATCH THIS SPACE and the space on my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/thewrightwayeast. Unless, of course, you have had enough about hearing about it all.

I’ve never done one of these before, but I consider it extremely necessary and I already apologise in advance for missing anyone out. If it’s any consolation, everybody who has contacted me over the last 6 months needs to be thanked, but that would simply take too long. Here are the people who helped me on the road and made my life so much easier and richer in the process:

Celia & Phil – for making sure I survived the cycle to Amsterdam
Emile & family, Amsterdam – for being wonderfully generous hosts
Frank, Yvette, Robert (an adventurer in the making) & Brigitte, Maastricht – for helping me dry out from the rain, buying my first map and being incredibly welcoming. See you all soon!
Joachim Wolbert, Munich – for the delicious dinner, red wine and Haribo!
Mitch, Waldi & Papi, Munich – for giving me my first hangover of the trip
Aman Sveti Stefan, Montenegro – for treating me so well in your haven of tranquility
House Hotel Bosphorus, Istanbul – for your enthusiasm in promoting Breast Cancer Care and hospitality
Abdullah & team at Kale Konak, Uchisar – for literally picking me up off the street and re-defining the meaning of hospitality towards strangers for me
Kemal, Fatma & Penny, Malatya – for letting me stay at your flat for 8 nights whilst waiting for my passport and allowing me to fall in love with Malatya
Dogan, Elazig – for trusting me with your flat keys having only met me for 3 hours, thank you.
Poorya & gang, Miyaneh – for inviting me to a great party and introducing me to your amazing friends
Mohammad, Caspian Sea – for looking after me for 5 days in your incredible seaside villa
Ali , Gorgon – for not hitting me with your swinging chain, but inviting me into your delightful home instead
Amin, Bojnurd – for collecting me from the park and inviting me to stay the night with you
Vali, Mashhad – for your eccentricity, lust for life and selling me my first Persian carpet
Jon & Sarah Maynard, Hong Kong – for being my final host and giving us the freedom of your flat. See you again soon hopefully
Harrow International School, Hong Kong – for feeding me for 2 days and being extremely hospitable
Dave McCann, Hong Kong – for treating me, my friends & family to not only the best meal I’ve had in 6 months, but arguably the best steak I’ve had in my life
Everyone who came to visit me in Hong Kong (Steph, Jack, Steve, Sophie, Nick) – for ruining me and yourselves. Thank you!
Zac, World Cyclist – for keeping me sane in China and being one of my heroes (jokes 🙂 good luck for Australia and beyond! See you in Africa, France or somewhere else. Zac is cycling around the world, visit his website at www.zacplusbike.com
Anthony (little brother), London – chief joke writer and morale booster
Nick (older brother), London – editor in chief of this blog, ensuring there aren’t too many spelling & grammar mistakes to annoy you
Mark, Hong Kong/London – not only did you fly 10,000 miles to see me cross the finish line and nearly kill me on 11th October, you made this come alive. Without Mark, over half of my blogs would not have been posted, hardly any photos would have been seen by you and the videos would have been a mere pipe dream. Thank you does not cover it, but thank you is all I can offer right now! See you soon buddy.

Mum & Dad, Kent – for being my loving parents and for supporting me no matter how crazy my ideas are. I bet you can’t wait for my next one…

Photos:
Rocking the lecture hall before the kids arrived, Zac & I proud of our professionalism, photo with the kids, about to leave Harrow International School at 12:30 11th October, Harrow International School Hong Kong, crossing from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island on the Star Ferry pointing at where I would be sipping champagne in an hour, Mum sneakily taking a picture of Zac then me as we slogged up Victoria Peak whist holding up all of the traffic, welcome banner on the Sky Terrace, Sophie & Steve? – is that you…, Zac & I sharing a giggle before crossing the finish line, putting on Union Jack pants courtesy of Sophie, Zac & I taking it all in, me with my parents, me with my parents and brother and finally the last moment we were all sober for the next 72 hours. No photos from those 72 hours, although some may make there way onto Facebook soon…

Will I ever make it…

Things could not have begun in a smoother fashion leaving Yangshuo on 6th October. We woke up leisurely at 06:30, packed up the panniers and hit an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet. AYCE buffets are normally seen to quite seriously, but on this quiet morning it was a clinical destruction, leaving nothing for the guests sleeping in beyond 07:00. Hash browns we’re hoovered up not leaving a single one, the crepe lady,hoping for a quiet morning, was put to non-stop work, coffee and juice were guzzled down and they even had pizza that they cutely cut up into inch by inch squares. This was a waste of time on their part as we literally took every last crumb of pizza making the tiny squares redundant, they might as well have plonked a full 12″ on our table along with the rest. Bellies satisfied, we wobbled down the empty pedestrian street of Yangshuo to begin the search for the correct road out of town. 650km to go until Hong Kong, spirits were high and surely nothing else could go wrong. That was until I glanced down at my rear wheel spotting something that I thought was an innocent leaf flapping in my spokes. I stopped and much to my dismay a spoke had broken, the first of the trip! No biggie, just replace it and move on. Wrong! The socket around the hub had snapped, making it impossible to insert a new spoke. For those of you with even less bike mechanical knowledge than me, cycling with one less spoke can be potentially hazardous. It puts the remaining spokes under greater pressure, especially on a touring bike with the added weight you are carrying on the back. The wheel does not run as true (straight) but more like a Pringle, albeit at the beginning not that noticeable, which in turn begins to rubs against the break pads and potentially continues to worsen until ultimately the wheel buckles under the pressure. All-in-all, terrible news 5 minutes into the final stretch. On top of this, I noticed a small bulge in my rear tyre where the tread was fraying and another exploding tyre was not too far away. We had no more spares. Double shit! And I still had the sniffles, triple shit. The only thing that relaxed me somewhat was that there was absolutely nothing that could be done to fix either bike problem, both were irreparable. They would either make it to Hong Kong or my rear wheel would buckle, explode or at worst, both. Zac & I came up with a whole host of contingency plans should something happen. Taking any form of public transport or not cycling in some form was simply out of the question at this stage. With a few plan B, C & D’s in mind, we continued cautiously. Plan A was to ride smooth tarmac all the way, avoiding any bumps and gravel tracks like the plague.

The mornings ride out of Yangshuo, despite the continuous bike issues, was beautiful. Flat roads, dramatic limestone karst mountains popping up everywhere and a breakfast finally worthy of not having to stop for a pack of Oreo’s within the first hour. At our first drinks stop we were both baffled when we glanced at our speedometer’s that read 42km, as it felt like only 20km had been cycled. This was a good sign, and the bike had not yet deteriorated further. Lunch was eaten in Zongshan before the afternoon stint. My feelings at this time of the day and this part of the journey were mixed. I was loving the days ride and the fact Hong Kong is firmly in my sights, but every time a minor bump appeared I slowed down and held my breath expecting the worst to occur to my rear wheel. My nerves were shot. At the end of the day the road began to disintegrate once more, but a lifeline was thrown to us in the form of the highway running parallel to the secondary road. I had hoped to cycle the remaining distance without the worry of being yet again caught by the police on the highway. But the choice was simple; broken bike or risk the highway. That night we camped 10 yds from the hard shoulder having eaten a can of beer and a bag of sweeties for dinner, ready to hop over the barrier and onto the oh-so-smooth surface of the highway.

05:50 on 7th October, highway barrier hop success and we began flying along the smooth road. I swear I heard my bike whisper “thank you” to me… Our targets for the day were to cycle 200+km and to not get lost. Both were achieved with unsettling ease. The minor issues of the day were; tyre tumour expanding, wheel running a little bit less straight, sniffles gone but replaced with violent coughing and the stifling heat. On this day we crossed the Tropic of Cancer and it definitely felt like we were in the tropics! Temperatures eased past 30C and the humidity was ever present. The heat was draining us of our normal bounding energy, making every kilometre just that little bit more difficult than normal. My energy is also slightly depleted due to the very tough and strenuous cycle from Chengdu. We did have a rest day in Yangshuo but lots of admin had to be done whilst nursing a hangover, so not as restful as I would have liked. By 16:45 I had cycled 199.24km, 760 metres short of 200km. This was going to be my 10th 200+km day, so quite a landmark. Annoyingly Zac had already reached 200km as his speedometer ‘gifts’ him an extra kilometre per day. Even more annoyingly we found a place to camp exactly where we had our end of day beer, so while he was setting up camp I pootled off down the road for 380m before returning to clock up the vital 10th 200+km day. This felt both ridiculous and great! The night was a nightmare. For the first time in China the heat was so intense in my tent that no sleeping bag was used all night, my body was on sweat over-drive all night and I slept perhaps 1 hour all night. I got beyond grotty, literally bathing in dirty sweat all night. If you have never bathed in 2 day old dirty sweat, I don’t recommend you try. The upside (as there is an upside to a EVERY situation in life, sometimes you just have to look harder than normal) was that my ‘sauna’ tent had cured my sniffles by steaming my sinuses clean. The cough remained as violent as ever, adding to my all round feeling of eurgh.

8th October was navigating mega-city day. We were about to somehow approach Guangzhou and avoid entering it. Once you enter a Chinese mega-city and it has you in its grasp , it will not let go, ever! My ridiculously scaled map was of no use, showing only hundreds of unnamed highways in a mess of blue lines around Guangzhou. Wits and quick decision making were needed, not before we fell upon a delightful little Dim Sum restaurant for breakfast. We arrived just as trolley’s full of freshly steamed Dim Sum were being wheeled out, yes! Without going in to too much detail of the complete shit-show of navigating Guangzhou, we completely dominated it! We had metamorphosed from a drunken Christopher Columbus to an astute and wily Vasco da Gama, compass at the ready. We had no plans to use the highways, but somehow we ended up on many with even more flying above and below us going in every possible direction. My heart was racing for the entire afternoon, especially when you have to cycle straight and thousands of cars want to exit at the slip road. Eventually a sign to Shenzhen (the mega-city north of Hong Kong and the wealthiest city in China) was spotted – LAND AHOY!!!!! Somehow we made it through and the next sign even gave us a mileage marker, 138km to Shenzhen. A smile plastered itself across my face, finally a glimmer of hope that the finish line is in sight and my bike was still in one piece. This fact surprised both of us. I was fully expecting it to crumble and to go to plan B. Not there yet though…

We ended the day in Dongguan in a cheap and cheerful inn. Mainly due to our grotty state, but also because the following day would see us cross the border and cycle to Harrow International School, Hong Kong to give a presentation, so some form of decorum was needed. That evening we ate Pizza Hut (very naughty but brilliant!) and found a tub of Nutella after searching high and low for one since Turkey! No second thoughts were required, the tub was bought and would be devoured the following day. My feelings at this time were still not as euphoric as they should have been. A border still had to be crossed, my bike still needed to survive 100km and Victoria Peak still needed to be conquered. We left Dongguan at 07:30, after a luxurious lie in until 06: 20, with the British flag flying patriotically from my rear pannier. There was no time to relax for the 70km to the border as the road was scarier and busier than when I entered Istanbul back in late May. Multiple mental buses nearly ended not only the trip but our lives and kamikaze cyclists and motorbikes rode up the wrong direction heading straight for us – IDIOTS! By 11:00 we reached the Hong Kong border at Shenzhen bay. It was very busy indeed. We found the customs hall, essentially an airport terminal with winding queues to the bored looking customs official, looking like two lycra-clad fish out of water winding our crumbling and laden bikes through the maze like queue to stamp ourselves into Hong Kong. This was achieved. We then peddled towards the 2km long bridge stretching across Shenzhen Bay to cross it. This was not achieved. As the bridge was a highway, a lone policeman stopped us. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had a gun, we would have ignorantly and arrogantly cycled on. Being busted by the only policeman on duty was slightly annoying, and being shoved onto a public bus to cross the bridge even more so, but by 12:30 we were in Hong Kong. Still 30km from Hong Kong Island and Victoria Peak, but very close to Harrow International School.

We reached the school at 1300, just in time for school lunch, perfect! We were greeted with open arms by Mr (Jon) Maynard (aka Sir), my old squash mentor/guru and all-round legend from Tonridge School, and his wife Sarah. The school itself is a very impressive and grand building perched on a hill overlooking south Tuen Mun and the coast. The doors to the school have just opened, only 6 weeks into their inaugural Michaelmas term. Mr Maynard informed me the talk would be in front of about 50/60 keen and willing students. This swiftly turned into 350/400 students and attendance is compulsory. I can’t tell you how the talk went, as I’m still writing it (procrastinating in writing it, as per usual…) to deliver it in T-220 minutes. Last night Zac, Mr Maynard and I enjoyed a few pints of San Miguel, some Cafe Creme cigars and a Twix and a Mars Bar. Life could not have gotten much better, but I’m sure it will soon…

16,486km have been cycled, but tomorrow there are 35km and a 350m (approx.) climb to go. I have unwavering faith in my bike making it, but you will have to wait until tomorrow to find out…

I will reach the peak and my family and friends at 16:00 tomorrow on 11th October (09:00 London, UK time). Keep your fingers crossed and join me in a celebratory champagne (or perhaps a breakfast Bloody Mary) if you fancy.

Until tomorrow 🙂
Mark

The quote on my travelling ‘business’ cards:

“A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step” … [and end with a climb up Victoria Peak in Hong Kong, a beer and a cigar] – Lao Tzu [and Mark Wright]

For some updated photos from China please visit my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/thewrightwayeast

Police vs Ray Charles & Tin Cup

I really wish that I could simply write the following: The last 9 days has been a doddle. Everything went to plan, we reached our daily goals and the weather was gorgeous. Nothing else to report really, until next time. Lots of love……unfortunately that is not the case, and never will be. Good for you the reader, not for me.

This morning has been marvellous! Despite my head pounding from one too many White Russians from last night and playing some hectic games of 20 man rock, paper, scissors, I had my first piece of toast with strawberry jam & butter for breakfast. It is difficult to put into words how beautiful this moment was, watching the butter melt onto deliciously  crisp & warm bread before heaping on mounds of sweet strawberry jam. Especially considering the bland & painfully repetitive breakfasts I have on the road, sitting hunched over in my tent at 0430 in the morning, munching on terrible cupcakes & other sorry excuses for cheap baked goods chatting with Zac doing the same in his tent, neither wanting to be the first person to emerge from our home away from home. Enough about my orgasmic breakfast experience this morning, time to relay some tales from the gruelling leg from Chengdu to Yangshuo, where I am now. Since arriving in China many have been writing to me saying “you’re on your last leg” or “you’re so close now”. In some ways this is true, but in many others it couldn’t be further from the truth. There are SO many unforeseen obstacles on the way that I simply can’t let myself think about the final 7km up Victoria Peak in Hong Kong until I’m at the bottom of it in one piece with a functioning bicycle. The calender tells me I’m close, the map tells another story…

Zac & I planned to leave Chengdu on 24th September to begin our cycle to Yangshuo, my eyes did not concur. That morning they decided they didn’t want to see anymore. I couldn’t open my eyes for the first hour of being up, which was slightly worrying to say the least. When they did crack a millimetre, the dim lights that entered caused excruciating pain. Initially this amused myself and Zac, until 3 hours later and the situation had not improved. Cycling was off and I lay in a dark room with sunglasses on like a 15 year old with the weight of the world on his poor teenage shoulders. Alarms were again set to depart on 25th September, but again my eyes refused to co-operate. Action was needed, so I booked a Dr’s appointment for the afternoon to put my mind at rest. I needed to hear from a professional that it wasn’t serious and I wasn’t going blind. Zac guided me to the centre by allowing me to hold his shoulder to cross the frantic Chengdu traffic. A lot of trust is required when you can’t see.* Wearing my sunglasses in the glum & grey light of the metropolis and glancing towards the ground, passers-by must have thought I was a real prima donna/D-list celebrity trying to seem important. After a thorough exam from an American GP, the diagnosis was Chemical Conjunctivitis with photophobia symptoms. I asked him to translate this for me, which he did – a bad infection resulting in becoming allergic to light. Not great news when you have 1,500km to cycle. He said to have at least 2 more days rest (not possible), gave me numerous drops and creams (applying cream to your eyeball is not pleasant!), prayed for me at the end for 2 minutes whilst holding hands (slightly awkward) and didn’t charge me a penny for the consultation, calling this his sponsorship towards my cycle. I was touched by this gesture. That night Zac went to watch the new Spiderman and I did not. Alarms were set for 0600 on 26th September and my eyes opened 35% – good enough for me, so the road out of Chengdu was hit.

Zac, the king of working out routes and the altitude of any given road, assured me that our setback was no problem and Yangshuo would be hit by 4th October with 9 days cycling “no problem”. Lies, so many problems! He now had the added role of guiding me out of the city whilst I was simply concentrating on following his rear wheel and nothing else. We made the conscious decision to take the main ring road out of town then onto the main highway** as this is the most direct route. The only problem is that bicycles, like any other country, are not allowed on highways. This hurdle was overcome by using a truck as cover and going through the toll booth. Once off the ring road we stopped for a rest in the hard shoulder of the highway for Skittles and Oreo’s, already glistening with sweat due to the extreme humidity. Mid Oreo crunch a police car slowly approached us, busted. They wanted to put our bikes in their trailer, which was too small so we refused point blank. Instead we cycled the 7km to the next exit with them tailing us and they showed us the right secondary road. They were very amicable, but we knew this would not be our first run in with the coppers as we would return to the highway again and again and again, hoping we wouldn’t get caught by the same policemen so we could continue to play the role of ‘silly/ignorant tourist’. 

The annoying thing about my eye issue is not being able to put my contact lenses in. This means I either have to wear my prescription glasses resulting in losing my ‘cool’ edge and being blinded by the bright daylight or wearing my scratched sunglasses with no prescription resulting in retaining my ‘cool’ look (more important than you think!) and wobbling around hitting every pothole and obstacle in the road – difficult choice! For those who don’t know, my eyesight is rather bad. Somehow we managed 100km by midday – this landmark is a sign of a good mornings ride – and stopped for lunch. The afternoon went down the shitter very quickly. No sooner were we on the bikes, than we got seriously lost for the first time since entering China. My 1:4,000,000 map was of no help anymore and the compass was pointing North, bad sign. We tramped on though and the road disintegrated into the quality of a British tractor track. Our successful morning was being exchanged for an unsuccessful afternoon. As if this wasn’t enough, Zac’s Rohloff gears suffered a major setback. We both have the Rohloff system, built to withstand anything and incur minimum issues whilst touring. The actual hub located in his rear wheel axle was fine, but the gear cable had frayed badly, not allowing him to move up or down gears via the shifter on the handle bar. If he wanted to change gear, he would have to stop and do it manually with a spanner. In flat countries like Belgium or Turkmenistan this would have been a minor issue, but in the undulating mountains of south-west China and no specialised Rohloff mechanic until he reaches Perth, Australia this was a slight concern to say the least. He placed it into 8th gear (out of 14) and soldiered on. At 1800 we found a camping spot probably in the bottom ten of my trip. Humidity was through the roof, the mosquitos were hungrier than us and we were on a slope. End of day 1 stats: 154km cycled (maybe 110km in the right direction), NO idea where we are, sweating my bollocks off in my tent killing mosquitos, Zac’s gears are bust, my eyes are still only 50% and the police are onto us. Great start! Ray Charles (me) and Tin Cup*** (Zac) had to sort their shit out.

Up at 0530 to eat our uninspiring breakfast,  put our wet & dirty lycra on, as nothing dries in the humidity, and pack up camp amidst a swarm of morning mosquitos. Goal number one was to hit a town and find our bearings, which took 25km of below average bumpy roads. The one saving grace of being on this minor country road is the sheer beauty of it. I constantly had to remind myself to calm down, relax and enjoy the ride. Watching the countryside wake up is quite magical; the mist hangs mystically above the immaculate rows of the rice paddy fields, elderly men and women are practicing Tai-Chi in their front yard, cockerels are cock-a-doodle-dooing, kids are walking to school and murmurs of ‘wow’ or ‘phoargh’ can be heard as we emerge from the fog, enter their lives all too briefly with a swift wave or smile, before blasting past them. Some of the younger kids just stand their dumbfounded not really understanding what is going on. It always makes me smile how the adults gawp in an identical fashion as the children when we approach them. I do wonder what goes on in their head for that split second. The true magic of living my life by the sun is that after watching the wonders of the world wake up you get to experience the energy of it crescendo into full flow, which in China is quite a fast pace! As the buzz reaches it’s elastic limit, so do my thighs and they are flying up and down like pistons fearing nothing. Eventually, after hours of the world rushing by, the world begins to slow down and unwind as it gets ready to go to sleep; the kids return from school, mouths still ‘fly catching’ due to our momentary passing, livestock are being herded back to their shelters, farmers are retuning from the fields and the light begins to dim. This is the time my iPod normally gets plugged into something mellow, to experience these moments which have been with me for 174 days of the trip so far. 

After finding our bearings on day 2, the road remained terrible and my lack of mudguards was adding all kinds of dirt & grit to my bike and my back (as well as Zac’s front :). We had had enough of shit roads by now, so when we spotted the highway entrance our eyes met and agreed that another chance encounter with the police was necessary. We lingered around the toll booth waiting for the right moment to slip by. When it finally did we were cycled through furiously, I was in the lead and had opted for the ‘cool’ and scratched sunglasses look meaning I could read no road signs. There were several directions to choose from so I shouted back to Tin Cup, who was building up speed in his solitary high gear, “WHERE DO I GO???”. Directions were issued and km’s began to fly by again. That is until we stopped at a petrol station for a break and the police stopped us again and ushered us off again. The cat and mouse game continued, with the cat leading the (blind) mice ever so slightly. That night we slept in an abandoned barn just off the road with a giant spider guarding the entrance to it. I wanted to camp ‘sans’ tent due to the heat and not wanting to enter my sauna tent again, but the presence of the colossal arachnid forced me to sweat it out. The most annoying thing about the sauna tent is not the fact that I sweat more than cycling up a hill in a woolly jumper, but that I can’t read my Kindle as my glasses steam up. So I just have to lay there, sweating, waiting for sleep to whisk me away to dreamland, which can take hours. Needless to say, my mind wonders in all kinds of directions during this time, along with the odd severe cramp.

Day 3 – the rain decides to join the party. It began with a light drizzle, then by the time we reached Luzho the buckets of rain came and the full waterproofs were called into action for the first time since Europe. Annoyingly it was still swelteringly hot and there were still numerous climbs, which meant sweating profusely in clammy waterproofs on top of 2 days of sweat and filth. The smells we were producing can not be written about as it is simply too heinous and you may well be eating something while reading this. Suffice to say, pigs would have fainted in our presence. At some point after Luzuo we crossed the Yangtze River – 3rd longest in the world – but the rain was coming down too hard to appreciate it and my vision, although better, was now impaired with rain & steam on my glasses as contact lenses were still not being trusted. My bike now resembled a jet-ski shooting up giant streams of dirty rain water from both tyres and our hysterical laughter at our predicament turned into gloomy despair and misery. The only creatures enjoying themselves were the ducks playing in the paddy fields, not a care in the world. I suddenly got a craving for crispy duck! A giant bowl of garlic infused egg fried rice brightened the mood, and even the skies. The mornings torrential rain ended up producing one of the top 10 roads of the trip. We hit a valley going slowly upstream with sheer rock cliffs on either side, swathes of bamboo plants growing everywhere and an idyllic train track running along the other side of the river. The heavy morning rain produced spontaneous gushing waterfalls from the cliffs. If felt like we were riding through a Norwegian fjord or Milford Sound in south New Zealand. I dubbed this the ‘Rainboo Road’ due to the rain and bamboo forests. These roads remind me of how lucky I am to be cycling and the unbeatable benefits of cycle touring. This valley would be in no guide book as there is no designated tourist spot here, no respectable restaurant or hotel, no stand out attraction apart from its raw natural beauty. If I were travelling in any other way I would not see this, but being on a bike, travelling from place to place in the open air i get to experience everything. Of course you cycle through some hideously ugly places, but it’s moments and unexpected roads like this that make it all worth while. The road then took a turn for the worse – of course – so it was time to hop back on the highway. This time we found a not yet open slip road and were on with no problems. We reached Xiyang and had to come off as we had no more food or water and petrol stations have become places to avoid due to the traffic police stations there. Quick bite and power power hose of the bikes before being declined entrance back onto the highway, fuck. Instead the last 20km of the day were spent climbing up a very steep section of non-highway. Possibly the worst way to end a day, in a giant ball of sweat. Our climbing has also dramatically increased in speed due to Zac’s gear situation. He now stands up in gear 8/9/10 (he managed to trim the frayed gear cable, somewhat masterfully, allowing him minor movements in the shifter) while I peddle furiously in gears 4/5/6 sitting down. This furious sit-down cycling has the knock on effect of creating more bottom problems. I don’t want to complain too much as his predicament is far less desirable. His ability to do this is nothing short of heroic, but I don’t want to massage his ego too much, just yet anyway… Camp on night 3 was another complete sweat fest with the smell of our bodies, damp lycra and socks plunging to new lows.

The first 3 days was a kaleidoscope consisting of different shades of grey; foggy grey, misty grey, rainy grey, cloudy grey, smoggy grey and plain grey. However, if you peel back the layers and look really hard, you will discover some amazing sights masked by the dull colour. At this point I must mention that I’m sitting in a chilled out cafe 3 floors above the manic & narrow pedestrian West Street of Yangshuo eating an ice-cream sundae – with tomatoes in it, how bizarre! – getting fits of hangover giggles reminiscing about the last 9 days, with Zac pounding out his blog opposite me. Everything is funny in hindsight.

Day 4 – complete shit show. 0530 up, 0630 road was hit in the dark and the steep climbing began from the get go. No easing into to it, just POW, uphill. I don’t like this. The highway is running next to us but is not yet open as it is apparently still under construction. To satisfy our curiosity we had a quick glance over the barrier. It was completely empty and the tarmac was already laid, it seemed rude not to take advantage of this golden opportunity so we hopped over with our bikes and enjoyed cycling along a deserted highway. The benefits of being here also include less climbing as the highway just blasts through the mountains with bridges and tunnels instead of going up and down the valleys like a yo-yo. One stretch of highway was so foggy we couldn’t see further than 4 metres ahead of us. This was very eerie on an empty highway but kind of cool, like a scene from a horror movie. Little did we know we were about to enter one. The highway slowly began to show signs of why no-one was on it, 3km tunnels appeared with no lighting whatsoever – spooky places to be – and the road became patchier in quality. We persevered though, naively assuming things would improve again. They did not. We were soon cycling through teams of road work crews looking at us wondering what the hell we were doing, but not stopping us, and slipping all over the place in the mud. A bridge appeared in the distance connecting the provinces of Guazhou and Guangxi, with lots of scaffolding around it. Deep down we knew what was coming, but we hoped beyond hope that it wasn’t so, especially as the secondary road was now nowhere to be seen. The highway was ploughing its way through untouched countryside with nothing around. Somehow we got onto the bridge under construction without anyone even blinking an eye and 100m further up we were faced with the inescapable fact – the bridge was not complete. There was a 10m gap with nothing linking it and only a bit of rope separating us from a very very long drop down to oblivion. We felt stupid, wreckless, amused, bemused that we got this far on a major bridge under construction and most importantly, at a loss of where to go from here. Returning the 15km we had come from was out of the question, going backwards is beyond soul destroying. We were pointed in the direction of a town called Chishui on my map, 20km east along the river. This was a beautiful stretch but the road was abysmal for the whole 20km which took us 100 minutes. Half way along Zac’s rear left pannier came off as a screw had been loosened and lost by the constant bumps. Magic masking tape to the rescue once again. Everything is crumbling!! 1300 and 68km cycled, not the kind of statistics that will get me to Hong Kong in time, especially when the lunch stop was followed by a 750m climb of epic proportions. The smaller the road the steeper the switchbacks, and this was a small road. Again, stunning though! It began by cycling through vast orange groves before the corn field began on ridged sections of the mountain side, interspersed with lines of chilli plants and pumpkin rows. The road was also partly used to dry corn, peanuts and chillis and the sun was cooking our skin for the first time since the Tibetan plateau section. 

In my view there are 3 main roads we have encountered on this leg; 1. The highway, which, much like a bullet, whistles through the landscape. No mountain too big, no valley too deep. It just shoots through. 2. The secondary road goes as the crow flies. Normally close to the highway and still relatively direct but the odd thermal would momentarily blow the crow off course before returning. 3. The tertiary road which idly flutters like a butterfly. It has no real urgent agenda and is happy bumbling this way and that. It will get to its destination, sure, but in its own sweet time. We were on a butterfly road for this climb, far more beautiful than a crow or bullet, but sometimes you need the efficiency of a bullet. This particular butterfly seemed to have got a serious fright, perhaps from my 2 year old niece, Isabel, chasing it, and ascended very rapidly from 650m to 1,400m. It was no doubt a tough climb, but our fitness is quite obscene at this point and we were barely out of the breath upon reaching the top. We remained at the height of 1,400m for a while with little ups and downs, passing through towns and villages where we caused a bigger stir than normal. Clearly no tourists have ever been here and many photos were taken. To amuse myself, when hundreds of kids were standing around us and not one of them daring to initiate the conversation, I suddenly spun around and shouted causing them all to jump. Amazing. End of day 4 stats – despite the broken bridge, mud road, butterfly climb we knocked out a semi respectable 109km. Good considering the circumstances, but way short of the 160km daily average we need to be hitting. Especially as 20km of that was not going in the right direction, but returning to the road from the unfinished bridge. Not really a bridge then, as it bridges nothing to nothing.

Day 5, will keep it short as I’m getting tired. Managed to reach Bijie after 40km. Here the rain returned and a ridiculously muddy road appeared. Fresh tarmac, just covered in very muddy rain water. This all got transferred to me and my bike rather swiftly. There was not one inch of my body, clothing or bike that was not covered in dirt. You would have thought I was dipped into a mud pit. My mood, not wanting to dwell on it, was very dark. In the afternoon we were kicked off the highway twice, luckily the second time was for the exit to Qianxi, a town we had ear marked for a potential hotel stay. 150km cycled and we found a hotel for £26 (£13 each) which had a warm shower, wifi in our room, a bell boy who carried our now brown bags to the 10th floor, the friendliest staff ever, scales in the bathroom to reveal how much weight I’ve lost and a turn down service which included rose petals in the toilet.  After showering for 1 hour and attempting to hand wash the clothes it was time to check the distance to Yangshuo, which we had 4 days to reach. It was 800+km. This would be tough in normal conditions, but the last 5 days had been so full of setbacks that no single kilometre is easy anymore. This lowered my spirit, knowing that my initial plan of cruising into Hong Kong now needs drastic measures. First of which, alarms were now pushed forward to 0430. Mainly to get the mileage done, but also to get through the highway toll booths under the cover of darkness.

Day 6, in the saddle by 0525, ouch! The morning in the hotel was spent laughing while putting on wet and partly clean clothes and wondering what will go wrong today. For once, not a lot. We managed 205km mainly riding the highways and taking the ring road around the mega city of Guiyang. We had now become smarter in avoiding the police by always hopping over the barriers and not risking sneaking through the toll booths and hiding ourselves and our bikes during our snack breaks. Once we even dared enter a petrol station to eat by hiding our bikes in the bushes, putting on ‘civilian’ clothes over our lycra and waltzing in trying to stifle our laughter at what we were actually doing. It worked though 🙂 The mice were outsmarting the smug cat, ha! When I woke up I had very little hope of reaching Yangshuo by 4th October. However, after a near faultless day and 200+km in the right direction, hope crept back in. There was one minor hiccup, my front tyre exploded 5 minutes before pitching tent…no exaggeration, big explosion, like a firework. The tyre had run so thin that my inner tube began to hit tarmac causing it to pop. This gave me quite a scare. I am very lucky this happened on an uphill section and not whilst free-wheeling downhill at 40-50km/h. I tried not to think about that ‘what-if’, as all turned out OK. But it does make me think that literally anything can happen at any time. Fate is not bothered about me reaching Hong Kong by 11th October, it’s going to make it difficult to the end I’m sure. New inner tube in and Zac’s spare tyre on. Now neither of us have a spare tyre anymore.

We managed another 200+km on day 7, however there was no satisfaction in this one. The majority of the day was spent in tunnels on the highway rather than fresh air – no joke, it was relentless. The up-side is that we cut off 100km by escaping the secondary ‘crow’ road which has no tunnels. We also cycled 160km before lunch at 1330, very very stupid indeed. For those that know me, my mood deteriorates when I’m hungry. When I cycle 160km on 3 packs of Oreo’s, an apple, a Snickers and a shite breakfast I lose the plot completely. Perhaps Zac will touch on my mood more in his blog, but it was dark, very very dark. I cycled harder and faster than I have done in a long while, wanting to feel pain in my legs rather than in my stomach. I was going uphill faster than I would have been on a straight 5 months ago, shouting and cursing at everything and anything that dared get in my way. The reason the mileage was so high is that the highway had no food rest stops, just tunnels. 160km done, petrol station sign spotted, reached petrol station, petrol station empty. I go silent with fury. We head into neighbouring town and eat 2 packed noodles and 3 boiled eggs each as it was the only town in the country without a working wok. We decided to come off the highway as our diet was verging on the diabolical, and considering 160km had been cycled by 1330, we could take the afternoon easier. Little did we know that the slip road between the highway and the town of Congxiang was a 20km dirt track with a mini-pass thrown in for good measure. Zac joined me in the dark place and no fits of hysterics were had now. Now was the time to get the job done and reach town hoping we don’t explode with anger. We reached Congxiang by 1800, darkness was approaching and we promised ourselves we would treat ourselves to a hotel. This idea was soon squashed as it was National Holiday in China for a week, the whole country is driving everywhere and all the hotels were fully booked or not able to take in foreigners for some ridiculous reason. Instead, we found a dark spot on a spot of grass off the main road in the centre of town, collapsed and slept without tents. Forgetting about spiders and snakes we have seen over the last couple of days. We just wanted to put this day behind us!

I forgot to mention that my sleeping mat has now also completely had it. It has developed an inoperable tumour. Any air I blow into it goes straight into a football sized lump directly in the middle. Will any kit make it to Hong Kong I wonder? We left Congxiang at 0530 on day 8 and we both craved another 200+km day to make it a hat-trick of 200+km days. The morning went to plan, a beautiful ride along the river to Sanjiang for lunch after 110km. In the afternoon my poor bottom was beginning to ache, but this was no time to complain, it was time to man up. We reached Longsheng by 165km and we knew we would be leaving the valley to climb up and over to the next valley, we just didn’t know to what extent we would be climbing. It was by no means the highest, in fact it was probably the smallest ‘pass’ at 650m, but starting at 150m still made it considerable in height difference and it was continuously very very steep. This is the point where I have to give credit where credit is due. Zac cycled this whole section in 9th gear in one stint! Not being rude to people reading this, but to put this into perspective most of you would have struggled in 3rd gear, with no luggage and 3 breaks on the way. I was behind him all the way, but having the luxury of flicking through my whole range of gears. I wanted to keep up with him as there is nothing worse than knowing that someone will get to the top before you and therefore have a longer rest! I was in complete awe of what he achieved on this section and witnessing his stoical efforts filled me with huge amounts of British pride for some reason. We passed 4 Chinese lyrca clad cyclists with no panniers PUSHING their bikes up the hill – pansies! I know I should be pushing my chosen charity of Breast Cancer Care, but for no other reason than Zac’s single outrageous achievement on this pass please donate what you can via his website: www.zacplusbike.com. He is raising much needed money for a great charity, Water Aid. That’s all the praise you are getting Tin Cup, back to the day job of cycling. Harden up boy!

Reaching the top with my iPod in, I began to well up with tears. I’m not quite sure why, but this feeling has been occurring more frequently in the last few days. I am trying to suppress these feelings and emotions (which is difficult for me as I prefer to just release emotions), mainly because I don’t want to get carried away just yet. Still a way to go! At the top we also met a Chinese cyclist with 1 leg who did the climb, putting those other cyclists further to shame. This man put our achievements firmly into place, he is a true hero and inspiration! I can’t even imagine the pain and hurdles he goes through. Watching him, with a smile plastered across his face, got me thinking about life, dreams and goals. He clearly let nothing stop him from achieving his dream, nothing would stand in his way and that’s the way it should be! If there is something you want to do in life, whether it’s going on an adventure, setting up a company or simply asking a boy/girl you like out for a coffee, just do it. No excuses, it’s as simple as that, doing it. DO IT!

We reached our third consecutive 200+km day and felt rather chuffed with ourselves. We had a feast, a cold beer then set up camp. For some reason, unbeknownst to us, we set our alarms for 0400 the next morning to be on the bikes by 0500. This was just silly. I think our minds were subconsciously trying to push our bodies to the limit, seeing how much they could take and our bodies had no say in the matter. By 0630 we had cycled 30km. I’m not boasting about this, I’m writing this to tell you how absurd it was, especially as Yangshuo was now only 120km away. I guess we wanted to get there as quickly as possible so as to have an extra half days rest. This worked. We reached Yangshuo by 1230, handed 7kg of filthy & smelly laundry to a lady I felt very sorry for and were eating a burger and beer by 1400 on 4th October. The only mishap on the cycle in to town was Zac being smashed into by a motorbike causing some scratches and some wheel misalignment. I was more upset about it ripping my shirt he was wearing at the time, so I told him to man up for the last 25km into town. I’m kidding, it was quite serious and he was very lucky not to have come off worse. As with my front tyre explosion, there is no point in dwelling in the ‘what-if’s’. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been and that’s that, although it was quite bad. It’s just another wake up call that literally anything can happen.

This could well be my longest blog, but I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and re-living the highs and lows of the last 9 days. I do hope you are still getting some enjoyment out of reading them. I know I don’t dwell too much on the places we visit, especially here in Yangshuo, which is gorgeous by the way, but there is so little time to write about everything! I have been learning more about China and it’s long & confusing history through various books on my Kindle, but I won’t bore you with the fascinating facts I’ve been learning, Zac gets an earful of that every morning during our inter-tent chats over rubbery bread and cold coffee. 

I will be leaving Yangshuo tomorrow, 6th October (NOT at 0400!), for what will be the final leg to Hong Kong. I’m not calling it the homestretch, as I’m sure there are some surprises left in store, but there are now no more rest days. I’m going to do my best to enjoy every last second of it; the last days of camping, stove cooking, smelling rancid, pushing my body to newer and higher limits and trying not to well up until I’m sitting in a bath by myself with a beer and a cigar. Then I might let some emotions escape. Until then it’s stiff upper lip and all that.

Thank you for reading and I will see you in Hong Kong, where pictures from Chengdu – Hong Kong section will be posted.

Love,
Mark

p.s. I’m nearly there 🙂
p.p.s. I have developed the sniffles today, with wild bouts of sneezing and Zac is showing no compassion or sympathy. Man the fuck up Mark!

* haha, made you look
** I know highway is American and I should be writing motorway, but they are called highways here so it seems easier. Apologies.
*** if you haven’t seen Tin Cup, I pity you. Kevin Costner plays a golfer who dominates a round of golf with a 7-iron. Zac is dominating the terrain in one gear.

Cycling in the Clouds

Words can not fully describe the magnitude of the hangover I am currently nursing. I have no doubt I have had greater in the past, but this one has the added effect of having cycled 306km in 1 day 2 days ago. The nursing of this hangover is taking place in a Starbucks in Chengdu drinking a Caramel Macchato watching the 14.4 million population of this vast city buzz around me on a pollution hazed Sunday afternoon. At this moment in time, the energy & frantic nature of the city are not rubbing off on me, I’m as docile and sleepy as an old sloth with Macchiato froth resting idly on my moustache and not caring what the world thinks about it. The 5 day / 791km cycle from Xiahe to Chengdu was one hell of a ride; freezing cold weather, breathtaking plateau scenery, giant herds of yaks, multiple 3,600m mountain passes culminating in the high point of the trip at 3,850m, inexplicable fits of giggles between Zac & I and finishing with a 306km ride into Chengdu reaching our goal at 21:55 looking more dishevelled than I care to describe, but will try. Where to begin….probably from the beginning!

Walking around Labrang Monastery in Xiahe was incredibly serene & special. I’m not a very spiritual person myself, but you could feel a very unique aura in the crisp morning air. Locals were plodding clockwise around the 3km Kora spinning the beer barrelled sized prayer wheels muttering prayers to themselves and I hypnotically joined in, you couldn’t avoid it. About 1km into it we turned off right into the small alleys where the 2,000 odd Tibetan Monks reside and are going about their daily chores. Around every corner appeared another little or large temple with more monks chanting & prostrating. At random moments of meandering through the vast complex I would simply stop, look around and take in the peaceful & sacred vibe of the Monastery or gaze at the crystal clear blue sky with the pine covered mountains framing it. These mornings spent off the bike are such a blessing, as for an instant I feel like a normal tourist and completely forget about the bike, my aching body and the kilometres to go and simply enjoy the sights. Slowly, after another delicious Tibetan Milk Tea, it was time to gear up and prepare to cycle on. Rather than return to the main road by the same way we reached Xiahe, we had heard of a minor road that continues up into the mountains and cuts of a chunk of the main road saving us 40km. Knowing full well that shortcuts normally end badly, the decision was taken, in the spirit of good old fashioned British adventure, to give the unknown a go and have a mini-adventure within an already large adventure. By 13:50 we were continuing up the valley from Xiahe towards Sangke and the road was a decent enough 5/10 and the skies were still magically blue, as only they can be at 3,000m high. Before Sangke we hung a left and the road immediately deteriorated to 2.65/10, if you can even call it a road. It was more like a dust path littered with potholes of varying sizes, still crawling uphill as we had entered another valley going upstream. The dust was so fine at points that it was as if we were cycling on pure cocaine, which on our road tyres (Zac’s are even thinner than mine) is very tricky. The lack of suspension on our bikes caused some serious jolts resulting in fits of laughter or cries of pain. Despite all of this, I was strangely enjoying the experience. It felt like a true adventure, cycling into the middle of nowhere not even sure we were going the right way at times (Nick, your compass came in very handy here!). The road kept on gradually getting steeper and steeper, culminating in a 3,595m pass, again signalled by the prayer flags waving at us from the top. This pass felt more special than others due to our isolation from the world and the fact it was cycled along a dirt road. After a quick Snickers and some posy photos we began our descent along the cocaine dust, which is even trickier than the ascent! We had hoped to reach the main road by the end of the day, but after only 50km we called it a day and set up camp on a gloriously perfect grassy plateau. Herds of yak were being shepherded back to their villages in the distance and we then had the entire plateau to ourselves. I was in heaven and that campsite immediately entered the top 10 of the trip.

One problem with enjoying clear skies in the mountains all day is that the subsequent night and morning after are deathly cold! We awoke at 0515 in the pitch dark and freezing temperatures and went about the painstaking task of packing up camp in the dark and cold. This adds about 15 minutes to the normal routine as we both curse our fingers fumbling around the more fiddly bits of this task. After another 3 hours the main road was discovered and we thawed ourselves out in a Petrol Station, content with the success of our mini-adventure and daunted by the day ahead which would include many 3,600+ m passes. Looking back at my diary of this day, 18th September, to gain inspiration of what to write for this blog, all I find is “cycled up, then down, then up, then down, then up…”. Not that inspirational but essentially that is what happened. Zac has an altometer, which can be a blessing as well as a curse, as sometimes you simply don’t want to know how much higher you have to climb. I remember feeling like a female model in St Tropez on this day (hear me out here …) due to the amount of times I changed my clothes. As I began an ascent I would be wearing a few layers, which would slowly be shed as the sweat began, resulting in nothing but my cycling shirt and shorts by the time I reached the top. At this point, with my Mother’s voice of reason in my head, the multiple layers would be re-applied along with a hat and gloves for the descent. This was repeated 4 times as we managed to push 4 x 3,600+m passes in one day. At the end of the day, when we were deciding whether to treat ourselves to a guesthouse in Langmusi or cycle on past it, a group of Chinese, en route to driving to Lhasa, invited us to their roadside BBQ. Zac and I looked at each other and simultaneously whispered: “we’re staying in Langmusi”. They showered us with many kebabs of expertly spiced beef (even asking how we would like our meat cooked!), mushroom and cauliflower, followed by a couple of shots of ‘grow some serious hair on your chest’ alcohol. Stomachs full and heads light we rode on into Langmusi, found a place to shower, eat & sleep, completing all 3 activities with relish.

Being in the mountains is far superior than desert cycling for many reasons. Despite complaining about the cold, there is something delightfully pleasing about putting on all of your clothes, 2 sleeping bags and schnuggling down for the night inches away from a plastic bag full of bakery goodies that will be savoured for breakfast in bed at 0530. I also thoroughly enjoyed the sight of thousands of grazing yaks crossing the road back & forth, seemingly also thinking that the grass is greener on the other side. The little dumpling yak calves have possibly become my favourite animal, bounding like deer behind their woolly mothers, full of life. However, the thought of these dumpling calves in actual dumplings is sometimes far more appealing. The plateau grasslands were also filled with fields of bluebells (I think they were bluebells, my horticultural knowledge is limited at best) giving the grass a gentle shade of dark blue. Occasionally a massive shadow would cast itself on me spanning about 3 metres. I would glance up and spot a majestic eagle soakring above, hovering above the plateau searching for its next meal of a field mouse, a dumpling yak calf or a weary cyclist. All of these sights, and more, are far more preferable than the bleakness of the desert. And for that, I am happy.

Day 3, 19th September, saw us climb very steadily all day, pop many pills and begin to feel the effect of high altitude cycling. We knew a 3,850m pass was on its way, so our plan was to get as close as possible to it today and complete it tomorrow, as you should not camp more than 300m higher than the previous night at these altitudes. At 14:00 we had only cycled 100km and both of us were already whacked! My stomach was making noises again, and both of our energy levels were down to 30% having been sapped by the altitude. The thought of stopping there and then briefly crossed our minds, but we pushed on until 16:45 with another 37km under our belts and at an altitude of 3,620m – the highest camp of the trip. These 37km were literally squeezed out. Our muscles were aching all over and each rotation of the peddles was a great effort. Not due to the steepness, but rather the altitude and minor illness. We stopped twice on this 37km stretch to eat and lay down horizontally laughing at our predicament. When we did painfully set up camp, we both collapsed and napped for a while, Zac rather more heavily than me. He could feel a temperature coming along, so after both popping a host of pills, I went about cooking us both dinner, leaving Zac to moan & grown in his tent. We were both wrapped up in our sleeping bags by 19:30 and pushed our alarms back to 06:00 to give us an extra 30 minutes in bed, what a luxury!

Despite the altitude, the morning was not as cold as we had expected it to be and our energy levels had fortunately picked up to 85% rather than plummet over night. Now to the small matter of reaching the 3,850m high point… This was not as difficult as we expected as the road continued at the same shallow gradient for 40km all the way to top, with no sudden increase in steepness. Thank you mountain! The sign read 3,840m but Zac’s altometer read 3,850m. For obvious reasons the altometer was trusted above the sign, unless of course the sign would have been more 🙂 A victory Snickers and cup of coffee were had, patting ourselves on the back for the highest point of both of our trips. Some layers of clothing was re-applied before the impending descent (over the next 1.5 days and 420km we would be slowly descending from 3,850m to 500m in Chengdu) and we were off. After a short tunnel, the view that lay in front of us was magnificent, a real masterpiece in road construction, and it was downhill. We thanked our lucky stars that our approach to the peak was far easier and whizzed down screaming louder than 50 kids on a bouncy castle. Soon we were in the Min Valley cycling along the Min river, which would lead us all the way to Chengdu. Upon reaching the valley we decided to return to our 8 x 10min slipstreaming stints, as these were not beneficial when in the mountains. We stopped in Songpan for lunch and to close down another bakery by buying everything they owned. If only we could carry the baker and his/her oven with us… Songpan is a beautiful little town with the west gate of the town walls being an original structure from the Ming-dynasty. We stopped to camp after 157km as the clouds’ darkness threatened rain. Tents were flung up and the rain never really materialised, should have known. The wind was howling though, so we prepared dinner in the porch of Zac’s tent with me crouched up like a Chinese contortionist. Dinner was inhaled, as normal, good nights were exchanged and I retreated to my ‘bedroom’ to read my book on my Kindle – perfect escapism and an amazing gift from my amazing friends!

21st September – what…a…day! We woke up at 05:30, just like every other day, ate breakfast, just like every other day and packed up our tents, just like every other day, completely unaware about what we were about to do to our minds and bodies. We had skirted around the topic of a 300+km day in passing before, but decided it would need immaculate planning and everything would have to be in our favour. At 06:30, in the pitch black, we began our day along the Min Valley doing our slipstreaming stints trying to make the most of the quiet road. As dawn began to creep up on us, the beautiful valley revealed itself to us once more. The majority of the time the width of the valley was around 500yds with the mountains coming down very steeply at either side. Every 10kms, or so, there would be a tiny village with cute little farmhouses, part Alpine and part Chinese in style. As the valley is so narrow, EVERY inch of available space is used for growing their crop, no patch is wasted – the type of gardening my Uncle Stewart would be proud of. In between the villages the morning mist was rising, leading me to believe I was on a set of ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’. It felt beautifully mystical and peaceful…until the dreaded trucks and buses slowly began to increase in numbers, making it more difficult to appreciate the natural splendours. After a faster than normal first 40km we stopped for a our first mini-break and a pee stop. As with many people I’m sure, my mind tends to wander while peeing and some stupid ideas pop into my brain. Zac and I were standing side by side enjoying the calls of nature whilst nature called us and I turned my towards Zac (just my head!) and said: “If I’m thinking it, I know for damn sure you are!”. Like all good partnerships in life, your brains are intrinsically linked thinking the same thoughts at the same times. He replied: “It’s on!”. Our plan was to reach Chengdu the following day, but as our crazy eyes met during our morning pee, seeing that slightly wild glint in each others’s eyes, our plans had suddenly changed. We would push for Chengdu in 1 day. We weren’t sure of the exact distance, but we knew it would smash our previous P.B. of 209km and with the majority of it going ever so slightly downhill along the Min Valley we fancied our chances. With the decision made we gave our bikes a thorough check, got changed out of our morning gear, ate a few snacks, tried to focus on the task ahead and began cycling once more. We planned to eat lunch in Wenchuan, which we reached at 11:55 after 130km. The cycle there was fast & furious with minimal stops. The stops which were had were simply to re-fuel and relieve ourselves before continuing. The scenery remained breathtaking and the villages idyllic with one stand out moment. After passing through one particularly long tunnel (tunnels are not a cyclists favourite place to be!) we emerged to face an almighty downhill of 8-10 perfectly crafted switchbacks leading to another tunnel way down below. We took the obligatory photo and free-wheeled our way down, cycling through the low lying clouds – cycling IN clouds, It was a perfect moment!! Lunch in Wenchuan was a delicious but swift affair, being back on our bikes by 12:40. I had spent the morning without music, opting instead to enjoy the sounds of mother nature and the blissful truck horns. After lunch I needed a pick-me-up other than our 2nd Red Bull of the day, this came in the form of the one & only Mr Phil Collins – what a hero. With Phil serenading my ear drums, nothing could go wrong. Leaving Wenchuan we came upon another barricade, this time the army not the police. However, just like with the police, we smiled, waved and hammered our way through the barriers resulting in a delightfully empty road. This lasted for about 30 minutes before an army convoy, about 100 trucks & jeeps strong, came up behind us travelling around 35-40km/h. People were lining the streets of the villages to witness the spectacle and giggled when they saw 2 British cyclists weaving in and out of the trucks trying to remain in their military slipstream. The foot soldiers in the back of the jeeps found this hilarious and were giving us the thumbs up and taking photos, the more senior members of the army in the front of the jeeps and trucks were less amused. They were waving their hands for us to pullover and generally get the hell out of the way and stop being a nuisance. We politely waved back and overtook these mean trucks instead. This continued for about 40km of wild and fast-paced cycling before our (mainly my) legs simply refused to go any more. Going downstream is mainly a down gradient, but there are still the odd uphills going around the valley bends which are quite tough. We pulled over, 170km down, and deigned the army convoy to pass us. I was sweating profusely and stripped down to the bare essentials. Once we caught our breath and downed some Skittles, we continued along our merry way.

Between 170-235km things got a bit hazy. A host of tunnels seemed to come out of nowhere sapping our energies further, as we always cycle furiously through them to get it over and done with, and the traffic was getting heavier and heavier along the little 1-lane valley road. At one point there were 3 lanes of cars overtaking us (on a 2-lane road!!!!), oblivious to the fact a truck could be coming up the other way any second. We thought we were about to pop out of the mountains, but the mountains had one more surprise up their sleeve; a monumental climb of about 300m over a very very short distance. Our hearts sunk at the sight of it and we were drenched from head to toe in sweat & filth from the trucks already. We avoided truck surfing as we wanted this epic day to be pure (not that we’ve done a lot, more the odd bit for a touch of fun) and began slogging, panting and dying up the hill. We were already below 1,000m and the humidity had already picked up considerably. The top of the climb resulted in another long tunnel, which opened up in to what can only be described as hell! Normally the sight of a long & snaky downhill would have me wagging my metaphorical tail, but the sight of this one made me crap myself. Every inch of tarmac was taken up by a vehicle overtaking an even slower vehicle in both directions in 2 lanes. Watching the chaos ahead of us was somewhat comical until we realised we too had to join this shit-show. We mumbled some prayers, said we would meet at the bottom and delved in. I never imagined my London cycling skills coming in useful in the Chinese country side, but they did. My mind was already beginning to fry at this stage of the day, so 150% concentration was needed. Fear had to be thrown out of the window and I approached it as a game of Mario Kart instead, the main difference being I only had 1 life and not 3 balloons circling my go-kart and having the option of restarting at any point. Banana skins were being lobbed all over the place, red turtle shells were being hurled around willy-nilly and I used more expletives than I thought I had in my vocabulary. The strange thing was….I was having a lot of fun 🙂 At the bottom, with adrenalin flooding our veins we swapped near death experiences from our separate descents before continuing along the busy road. After that adrenalin rush I could feel a downer coming on, and I began to feel very light-headed and on the verge of light hallucinations. I motioned to Zac that we needed to pull over at the next possible place, so we did. Here, 225km into the day, we finished off the last of our food and water rations leaving us with nothing. We even spooned the jam pots dry to increase our blood sugar levels once more. After 5 minutes of rest, life returned to my body, and more importantly my mind, and we had an almighty fit of giggles about the fact we were still miles from Chengdu, we have no more food or water and we are not even celebrating smashing our P.B. of 209km by 16:30. The laughter was intensified when we looked at each other and realised what a mess we were: whole bodies glistening with sweat and splattered with dirt, our clothes filthy &,smelly and deep & dark bags under our eyes as if we were trendy Shoreditch residents wearing eye-liner but our eyes themselves were still hungry, hungry to reach Chengdu. So we continued.

At 235km we were finally out of the mountains and onto a beautifully flat road with 4 lanes going each way. Huge sigh of relief! It was 17:30, the time we would normally be setting up camp and darkness would be upon us in 2 hours. Soon we found ourselves on the main highway towards Chengdu (although the toll gate assistants really didn’t want us to be there) and a sign reading 30km to Chendgu was spotted, the light at the end of a very long tunnel. Zac’s energy levels were going through a slight decline whereas I was experiencing an out-of-body type resurgence, ready to attack the highway. I therefore led the slipstreaming 2 man cycling convoy for about an hour, punishing my body to travel at 33km/h as we wanted to get as close to the city before darkness set in. During this hour I tried to immerse myself into a tranquil trance like state, concentrating simply on keeping the pace high and all other distractions to a minimum. Zac would occasionally ask if I’m still OK to lead, to which I replied with a simple thumbs up. My mind raced through many things during this hour, trying various techniques to stay focused, most of which are too embarrassing to repeat to you here. It did the trick though and by 19:30 we had hit 270km. we prepared ourselves for the final leg in the darkness and in to the city. We knew Chengdu was big, but little did we know that it was MEGA. 14.4 million inhabitants and 4 major ring roads, each equalling the ferocious traffic levels of the M25. Our end goal was a Warm Showers host (Couch Surfing for cyclists) named Dhane who lived in the south-east of the city, we were approaching from the north-west…Where we were getting the energy from at this point I simply can not say as I don’t actually know, but more mental than physical energy was required for the last 30km. We were back to playing Mario Kart, this time at 150cc not 50cc. It wasn’t too dissimilar to cycling in London to be honest, but unlike cycling to work in the daylight along a route I know off the back of my hand, we were cycling in the dark in a city neither of us know without a map, having spent 10 hours and  270km in the saddle already. We made our way to the 2nd inner ring road before turning right and going anti-clockwise around it before hitting Wanda Plaza where we should turn right for the last 8km to Dhane’s flat -simples. This we managed with intense traffic, multiple giant intersections, empty minds and even emptier stomachs. We reached Wanda Plaza at 21:00 and 298km cycled whereupon our eyes fell upon a smiling colonel with an immaculately sculpted goatee, guarding the doors to the exquisite culinary delights of KFC. Upon entering all eyes glared at us, for once not because we were white British but because we looked & smelt like we had just been dragged through the Mumbai sewers before riding a wild roller-coaster for 5 hours straight listening to Slipknot. A cheeky Zinger Tower Burger meal was eaten before it was placed on the tray at the counter before cycling the last 8km to Dhane’s. When the 300km appeared on our odometers we roared, as if the Rugby World Cup had be won again. The crazy thing is that we physically could have probably kept going, but our mental states were on the unhealthy side. End of day figures: 11hrs 45mns in saddle, 306km, in the shower by 22:15, beer in hand at 23:00 and head on pillow at 01:10.

It is now 23:00 on 23rd September and I’m getting ready to get back on the road tomorrow morning. Our time in Chengdu has flown by, but has been fun. Most people try and escape the big cities to enjoy the countryside. We, however, crave the big cities so we can indulge on things that we simply can’t find on the road . Simply wandering around a shopping mall knowing that I’m not going to buy anything is oddly quite fun, eating the odd bit of junk food because it’s there and feels naughty and last night we went out until 04:30 in the morning, testing to see if we still possess the conversational skills to allow us back into civilisation and making sure that Jack Daniels tastes the same in China as it does in the UK. After countless glasses of it on the rocks, I can safely confirm that it does.

Hong Kong does seem to be creeping closer on the calender, but it’s still an alarming 2,200km away and lots can potentially go wrong en route. Achieving that monumental day of 306km day has gifted us an extra day to play with, but things could still go down to the wire. I do hope they don’t though… Time for me to get some much needed shut eye now, so I shall bid you all a good night and I wish you all a very pleasant week ahead!

If you do decide to write to me via e-mail or comment on this blog, do include a joke or a riddle. This would be hugely appreciated.

For some new photos from China, please visit my Facebook page here: www.facebook.com/thewrightwayeast . If you wish to read Zac’s account of the last 5 days (I know I do!) please visit his website: www.zacplusbike.com.

p.s. in other groundbreaking news, we have managed to raise a whopping £10,000 …so far! Thank you to everyone who has helped us reach this fantastic milestone. If you would like to donate for the first time (or second time) to the very worthy cause of Breast Cancer Care, please do so here: www.justgiving.com/thewrightwayeast 

p.p.s. if you know of anyone who lives in Hong Kong and would like to join the welcoming party on 11th October, please contact Mark Chalmers here: mark_chalmers@hotmail.com.  I plan to arrive at The Peak Tower on top of The Peak (residents of Hong Kong will know this) at 16:00. For more details of the welcome party please ask Mark. Anyone is more than welcome to join, don’t be shy! It’s going to be quite an evening 🙂

2 Wise Seamen sail the G30 and up to 3,000m

Granted it has been a while since writing since Toksum, but a great deal has happened resulting in very little time to do my ‘homework’. But here I am now, sitting in a cafe at 21:04, coffee in hand, just shy of 3,000m above sea level in Xiahe getting ready to visit Labrang Monastery at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Over the last 2 weeks Zac and I have cycled through every kind of condition from Toksum to Xiahe except snow, which we believe is a very real possibility over the next 4 days. Our bicycles have pushed our collective amateur mechanics to the test, the weather is doing its best to slow our process and illness has always been around the corner…but we are alive, the bikes are still moving and our bellies our full of Yak meat, so all is fan-daby-dozy right now.

Leaving Toksum, the morning was spent dipping down into the Turpan basin where we were approximately -50m ‘above’ sea level, which was strange and cool but there was only one way out and that was up. It wasn’t long before the G30 highway was reached to see us all the way through to just west of Lanzhou. The road was immediately surrounded by ripening vines with lush grapes (this made me think of Valentin, the French cyclist who I cycled to Kashgar with and haven’t heard from since as he is a wine master), the wind was blowing from the side causing our sweat to dry instantly  and the temperature was around 34+ degrees (hard to imagine from where we are now). It was so hot at the end of the day that we decided to camp ‘sans’ tent once again, but this time in style. We found a row of vines with our names on it, ducked under them and rolled out our sleeping mats & silk liners. I got to relax and slowly prepare dinner whilst watching Zac fix a puncture in his rear tyre that seemed to appear out of nowhere. When the sun finally set, I lay down and could see a sky blushing with stars through the vines – it was perfectly idyllic and the kind of open camping I had dreamed of. This was made even better by eating a Dove chocolate bar AFTER brushing my teeth. There is something so naughty but so right about eating chocolate after cleaning ones teeth! Dove bars – as we would soon discover – are a luxury above luxuries and one of the only western chocolate bars to have made it China, along with the odd Snickers.

Since Kashgar my diet had mainly consisted of noodles, but as we sailed along the G30 we began to find rice (the Lonely Planet on my Kindle does not offer the word for rice in Mandarin…IN CHINA, how ridiculous) and all other kinds of stir-fried goodies; tofu, beans, mushrooms, pork, beef etc… all in sauces to die for. A few climbs begun to rear their heads over Toksum, with the first being a mid-range on the difficulty scale. It was made slightly more difficult by a front puncture and a very frustrating fly buzzing around my slipstream that I simply couldn’t shake. This caused Zac to laugh and fall behind, ha. Along the climb we saw a 50/60 strong herd of wild camels proving to us that we were still very much in desert territory, and would be for some time to come. To the left of the highway the Tian Shan mountains rose mightily in the distance, behind which lay Mongolia. I could picture the chains of caravans carrying their goods across the Silk Road 2,000 years ago wary of the Mongol warriors ready to descend upon them and ransack everything they carried. The thought sent a shiver down my spine and I rather hoped they wouldn’t ransack my worldly goods, although all they would find would be a deflating sleeping mat (still!) and a very sooty stove.

The reason I said we sailed the G30 is due to the huge factor the wind played along the way. It would either ease us along our merry way, bash us violently from the side or the worst, howl directly into our faces grinding us to a halt. Fortunately the former tailwind was predominant, but it’s definitely the headwinds you remember. Once it was so hard that I was convinced the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost had just had a fiery curry night (with the Holy Ghost having had a particularly spicy Jalfrezi) and they just let us have it. With a strong headwind comes the dust in your eyes – which has been reeking havoc with my contact lenses – and the fact that you are crawling along the desert, barely getting closer to nowhere in particular even slower! On day 3 from Toksum we pushed out another 200+km day which always feels like a job well done but is never easy. We cruised our way into Hami for lunch having demolished 110km and found a shop not only selling Dove bars, but Skittles, Oh the joy! We set our sights on a big day so before our food had properly digested, we laboured on. I don’t want you to feel like we are rushing our way through China missing everything, as at this stage of the trip there is simply NOTHING to see but tarmac, shops selling cold drinks and nothing. At 135km we found a perfect irrigation channel for a much needed wash…in the nude, the only way. At 1600, and 190km cycled, we stopped for another giant meal of rice and wok-fried deliciousness. We were discussing the ease at which we would reach 200km, when as we hopped back on the bikes Zac had received an unwelcome visit from the puncture monkey. Cheeky little bugger. There is no such thing as an easy 10km! Every kilometre must be cycled just like the last, and you never know what is going to come your way. That night we open camped again, partly out of laziness of not wanting to erect our tents, partly due to the heat and partly as I wanted to catch a shooting star whilst sleeping in the open air. I didn’t, but it was beautiful nonetheless. We ate boiled eggs and Oreo’s for dinner, the perfect nutrition for hungry cyclists 🙂  The following morning our alarms went off at 0445 as per usual but I managed to persuade Zac that another hour would be beneficial, listing a whole host of wishy-washy reasons. Not much persuasion was needed and the extra hour was savoured.

Day 4 was a bitch! The wind was relentless slapping us in the face whenever we dared exceed 15km/h. Put back in our place by mother nature, we plodded on. Today, more than others, offered us a stunningly bleak landscape and many rest/service stations that turned out to be empty and not yet completed. I can’t quite describe the let down this is. When you are cycling through pure emptiness and you suddenly happen upon a sign that reads: Parking and a knife & fork cross-crossed (still the knife & fork as opposed to chopsticks, which is what you’re given and I am now the grandmaster in using) your heart skips a beat, as if you have just met the girl (or boy) you simply know you are going to spend the rest of your days with, and you cycle like crazy to reach it dreaming of chocolate, cold & fizzy drinks and perfectly sticky rice, but all you get is a giant empty building with a dead pig rotting on the side. Let down of the highest degree!

We were then 3km from Xinxinxia and the border to the next state, Gansu at 1,795m. We were so tired from our spin-class of a day – an 8 hour relentless spin-class with the instructor screaming encouraging but mean words into your ear – including 90mins of night cycling up a mountain crawling at 14km/h with all the lights we could rustle up before sleeping/collapsing 3 feet from the hard shoulder just on the other side of the barrier (that lane was not being used, don’t worry) in the gutter, literally. Night cycling is quite fun, you don’t know how fast you are going, it’s brilliantly cool and you don’t notice the bleak landscape. Again, no tent was used that night, just all the clothes we owned and tightening the sleeping bag up to the hilt. It was a surprisingly blissful sleep, very cosy indeed. We woke up and were excited at the prospect of a new state and a new challenge. This excitement soon dissipated as Xinxinxia turned out to be a petrol station and a run down truck stop and the first sign we saw read (word for word, hand on heart): Dry Baron Desert Nature Reserve – whoop-dee-fucking-doo! It’s as if they were rubbing it in by including the adjectives dry & baron . We know that already!  At least the sign was in English, and they would continue to be, mostly… This at least provided some very funny ‘Chinglish’ with signs making no sense whatsoever. The dry & baron were soon proved oh-so-right as the first few towns on my map – which is a 1:4,000,000 scale so any town is normally of significance – turned out to be nothing but unfinished petrol stations, shit. Punctures are now becoming a more regular occurrence as well, not actually punctures, more previous patches beginning to break/leak. When the new inner tube is in, or the old one patched up for the 100th time, we let it sit for 10 mins to check that the pressure holds in the tyre. If it does a jubilant shout of: ‘It’s hard! It’s remained hard!’, can be heard. A chuckle normally follows for obvious reasons, but as we all know, like all good things in life, in does not remain hard forever!

We were now not too far from Jiayuguan, the city where ‘real’ China should begin and the desert should end. Only 180km to go, a stroll in the park with normal conditions! As aforementioned, there is no easy kilometre and this stint was no exception. Suddenly, Zac received another rear puncture and we had run out of decent spares, patches and glue. We spent 3 hours trying to fix this hole in many ingenious ways, we even applied the fix-it-all masking tape. This worked for 2km before this too failed. Reality hit, a truck was needed for Zac. I was then faced with a tough decision; do I  a) get in the truck with him for 180km and have an extra night in the hotel or b) cycle this by myself continuing through a wind farm that we have been cycling through for 30km, the biggest in the world I imagine! I must not have been thinking straight as I opted for option B and watched Zac glide away in the truck, what a dunce! Fortunately the never-ending wind farm did eventually end and I took a sharp right out of the powerful headwind and into the beginning of the Hexi corridor, where for the first time in a LONG time there was actual farmed land: countless chillis drying in the sun, corn fields stretching into the distance planted with such precision that imagine Andy MacLeod himself planted them and many other vegetables. I pushed on into the night by myself as I wanted to reach Jiayuguan my midday the following day. At 2120, 80 minutes after sunset, I called it a day and open camped once more. This was my first night alone in China. Something felt wrong so I called Zac for a good old natter as if we were long lost friends separated at birth, rather than having waved him off 6 hours previously.

I awoke super early for 1 hour of morning darkness cycling and climbed up until Jiayuguan lay before me with 40km of downhill to come, with the wind up my arse! I downed my red bull, ate some cold rice, plugged into some inspirational music and of course…puncture o’clock! Poo, bum, willies! With no spare and no patches I nearly lost my temper in a big way, but as before, there is no-one to help me now but myself. I therefore pumped it up every 8km all the way into town, and the last 2km of every stint I was essentially peddling with no air in the tyre. Dangerous stuff downhill. But I made it and met my long lost compadre Zac for lunch. The next 24 hours in town were spent eating chocolate, getting an old man to fix all of our inner tubes and making it look annoyingly easy, going for a wander through an actual city – this felt very novel, we even found a bakery and had delicious cake with coffee reminding me of Germany – destroying the food market, watching Batman in English with popcorn and sweeties and visiting the impressive Jiayuguan fort. This fort marks the beginning of China, where the Hexi corridor is at its most narrow and the Great Wall of China begins. Our fist real tourist site and it was swarming with Chinese bus groups wearing matching Burberry caps. Many hours were spent laughing at them and their antics as much as learning the fascinating history of the fort and beginning to properly immerse ourselves into China!

Before leaving, naturally another coffee & cake was in order and we had an easy half day of 80km before setting up camp, allowing ourselves a relaxed camp including a nap and a brownie 🙂 Whenever we go shopping in a big town or city we tend to buy lots of sweets, chocolate and baked goods to last as a while as luxury goods. But as you can imagine, they do not last long. That’s if they are not eaten 5 minutes after being bought! The day after I was hit by another evil tummy bug that made me vomit violently along with other side effects. There is nothing I wanted to do more than set up camp at 1000, crawl inside and die peacefully, and there is no good reason why I didn’t. I wrapped up warm, as the temperature was beginning to drop, and ploughed on feeling very sorry for myself. We did have an 80 minute nap on the highway which was great but I needed more. The one saving grace was that the wind was behind  us and I somehow managed to eek out 125km. The strong over-the-counter antibiotics kicked in throughout the day, easing the pain by the end. Still, I was all wrapped up by 1820 and Zac had lovingly prepared me a breakfast bag that I ended up eating halfway through the night when my appetite returned with a vengeance having eaten very little all day. This ill day was one of the toughest of the trip, wanting it to be over from the very beginning. However, the bad must be taken with the good and a pair of big boy pants were needed (or big boy nappies!).

The bad has also come in the form of the a ridiculous cold snap 5 days ago. One day we were cycling in shorts & shirts in 25+ degrees, the next morning the condensation on our tents had frozen and it was -4 degrees. Mental Oriental, literally! Socks were on hands, pants on head, laughter was masking our pain until shouts were proving our pain. My fingers and toes began to thaw from their numbness and I had to stop cycling and release an almighty roar from the shooting pain – ow! All of this and we were only at 2,000m. We had to prepare ourselves for the road ahead which would consistently cruise at 3,500m. We therefore stopped in Wuwei to panic buy as much warm clothing as possible. This turned out to be not a lot! We didn’t find a proper camping shop for what we needed, so we made do with what we found. 2 giant pairs of gloves, a thermos flask and Zac bought an extra mediocre sleeping bag, that is all! We did eat tremendously well in town though, got our laundry done – result! – and again munched on as much chocolate as our greedy little mits could handle. If I haven’t mentioned it so far, Zac has decided to join me to Hong Kong as opposed to going east to Beijing. This is either due to my infectious & joyous company or him wanting to make sure I survive the final 24 days / 3,000km.

One major thing that needed attending in Wuwei was my chain. It has been slipping off every 10 km’s resulting in much frustration. I had to break the chain, take out a link and re-attach it. If this makes no sense to you, then you are pretty much in my shoes! I had the tool to do this, but not the faintest idea where to begin. Naturally I did botch job, which had to be done properly again the following day with our 2 heads and 4 hands needing the precision and steady hands of a world-class brain surgeon to re-attach the chain. We dominated! It felt great having a fully working chain again and this is now one of the only pieces of equipment that isn’t held together by masking tape or cable ties. It would seem that bikes do begin to crumble slightly after 13,500km and lots of little bits of maintenance are constantly needed.

Just before Lanzhou, we came off the G30 which we had been on and off since Toksum. It was an emotional moment, but one which instantly rewarded us with delicious steaming hot dumplings and tea, yes please! More of this on the back roads would be greatly appreciated. It took us a while to find the road we wanted to take us up and into the mountains, but a few dirt tracks, wrong turns and gesticulating with locals later we found it and the climbing commenced! Proper climbing now, none of this pansy-arsed slugging up hills, real snakes slithering up & into the gargantuan mountains. Our first major climb took us to altitudes of around 2,400-500m along one of the quietest roads I have ever experienced. Throughout the whole day we must have encountered no more than 100 vehicles, most importantly no trucks or buses violently honking their horns as they overtook us, which is the norm everywhere else. It was a road designed for cycling and made our jaws drop to the ground with its natural beauty. The scenery consisted of many peaks around 2,500m all with man-made terraces sliced into the mountain side for agriculture, a truly impressive sight. This part of the valley is also predominantly Muslim, so the mountain tops would often be romantically decorated with Chinese-style architecture mosques, the roof curling upwards at the edges with the unmistakeable half moon shining its beacon on the roof. I had never seen mosques quite like it, sprinkled around the landscape. When we camped on one of these terraces – a real peach of a spot! – we could hear distant calls to prayer from all corners. It felt like I was in a scene from a Discovery Channel programme. The people along the 2,400-2,500m ridge, which continued to bob up & down for 30km, were predominantly Muslim with the old men donning their skull caps, elongated wispy grey goatee beards and John Lennon style dark circular sunglasses. Each looking like they could appear on the front cover of the Chinese Lonely Planet. I envied their style, knowing I could never pull if off. The Han Chinese are trying to coerce many of the villagers to move to the big cities like Linxia, which is expanding exponentially. I do hope that the slow and peaceful village life does continue here! Finally we dropped off this stunning ridge and down into Linxia. During the descent my front rack began to wobble due to a bolt snapping, needing to be botch repaired with cable ties for the moment and Zac’s Rohloff gear system began to jam in the shifter, needing some oil to loosen it up. Hold it together bikes! The downhill was a thing of beauty, switching back countless times and dodging a few pot holes.

We stopped in Linxia for a quick noodle soup lunch – whenever we have noodles in China, we can see them preparing them freshly, stretching the dough and cutting it into long slivers to the required thickness, all done at blistering speed – then continued up the valley that would take us into the eastern reaches of Tibet and eventually onto the road that would be 3,500+m for approximately 400km. There was a road block as we left town with a very strong police presence. We weren’t going to let anything stop us, so we innocently cycled thought the blockade smiling and waving as they were shouting and waving us down. We were through and onto an eerily empty road along the river running upstream. We looked at each other smiling, then wondering why the hell the blockade was there; had there been a factory disaster? Were they about to blow up part of the road? Were some wild animals on the loose? Had their been another Buddhist protest in Xiahe? No – just 5 bus loads of local dignitaries needing the whole road to themselves with a ridiculous police convoy. As soon as the road opened again, a plethora of honking trucks and wild driving descended upon us making it tricky to enjoy the changing scenery. Luckily the traffic died down and the landscape could be enjoyed. There was a giant arch in the distance, by which I could see our first Tibetan prayer flags fluttering in the wind. I was getting very excited, as my trip to China & Tibet back in 2002 was one of the first trips that really got me into travelling. As soon as we passed through the arch, everything changed dramatically. Skull caps were immediately swapped for dark red rob clad monks, minarets for Tibetan style architecture and monasteries and the smell of burning Yak butter was lingering in the air. All these old sensations & memories from 10 years ago were flooding back and a wide smile was plastered on my face. In the morning we were cycling along a ridge at 2,500m and we were the highest thing around, in the afternoon we were climbing up a valley to an end of day height of 2,920m surrounded by peaks that must be pushing the 4,500m barrier and it’s only going to get bigger. Instead of the mountains being ridged for agriculture as they were in the morning, here the mountains are covered in swathes of thick pine trees. The change in 8 hours could not have been more different in landscape, religion and culture… at least it’s not bloody desert!

We finished the day in Xiahe and I’m finishing this blog at 0630 on 17th September enjoying a warm cup of Tibetan tea with heaps of milk and sugar about to explore the vast Labrang monastery – one of the six major Tibetan monasteries. I will be walking the 3km Kora spinning countless prayer wheels and stopping off at many tea houses for warm drinks and yak filled momos (dumplings), trying to forget about hitting the road this afternoon in the freezing weather and the high possibility of rain (it’s now 1005 on the same day and the sun is shining – GLORIOUS), continuing to climb to 3,500m. Before we reach Chengdu in 5/6 days, at the end of the very high road, we will reach a high point for the trip, higher than in Kyrgyzstan. Unexpected but exciting, almost as exciting as hitting the state of Sichuan in 2 days and devouring the famous Sichuan cuisine 🙂

So much more has happened over the last 14 days that I simply have not been able to include in this blog, such as: more bike problems, more instances that make me smile from ear to ear, the odd victory cigar, some amazing camping experiences with a hearty ‘home-cooked’ stove meal and some pretty wild truck surfing (hanging onto the back of trucks and allowing them to glide you along for a stint, very naughty but lots of fun and a good work out on the left arm!) I have been getting a few emails asking me what it feels like to be just over 3 weeks away from Hong Kong, what does it feel like and what I expect arriving in Hong Kong to feel like. These are very difficult questions, mainly because I’m trying not to allow myself to think about it and whenever I do something happens to shake me back to reality, telling me to concentrate, 3,000km to go! Suffice to say it will most likely feel incredible with emotions running high and trying to make sense of the last 6 months. No doubt I will be letting you know when I arrive. For now (cheese alert) I’m trying to live in the moment and savour these awesome moments. Time to go and send some prayers up to the heavens via these prayer wheels and put some warm food in my belly.

Love to you all and will write again from Chengdu in less than a week, hopefully being able to go into more detail about the road and the altitude, and fingers crossed I’ll see a Giant Panda 🙂

p.s. a huge congratulations to Paul & Rachael, you are now married! WHOOP!

p.s.s. our Mandarin is coming along very slowly, halting at; hello, thank you, rice, a few food types and other pleasantries. All I need to learn now is “get your filthy mits off my bike, otherwise I’ll sock you one!”. They like touching and playing with our bikes, sometimes rather roughly.

Here is a link to Zac’s blog – www.zacplusbike.com