Portrait of an LBX

One of our last sights in Inner Mongolia was yet another coal-fired power plant, of which we saw a few. Like the U.S., China has vast domestic coal resources, and dirty, coal-fired power plants generate most of the country's electricity. Inner Mongolia is China's coal capital, and a nearly-two-thirds increase in coal truck traffic from 2009 to 2010 was blamed for the 120km (75 mile) traffic jam on G110 that broke up just a few days before our ride into Beijing on the same road.

The central government is trying everything to wipe out "backward" practices such as nomadism. Previously, we showcased the odd nomad-relocation developments we found in Qinghai. In Inner Mongolia, animals are not allowed to be set out to graze outside of certain, fenced-in areas. Hence, most cows are on leashes.

In the countryside everyone works, even if they need a crutch and a cane to do it.

A crowd forms to watch the foreigners eat at the window of a restaurant in Inner Mongolia. Not being able to blend in was one of the more frustrating aspects of the trip.

Fields of sunflowers at sunset stretch to the horizon on our way into Wuyuan (五原縣), Inner Mongolia.

There's tough terrain out there, even in the flats. Making our way through the Inner Mongolian "grasslands" of Bayannur, we found ourselves in a flood drainage canal frequented by herds of sheep that had softened the earth into a dust through which we often had to push the bikes.

We finally got off of G110 in Bayannur, Inner Mongolia, and headed into the countryside again, where we zig-zagged our way through alternating fields of corn and sunflowers. It was a bit disappointing to see that what we assumed would be a vast grassland had been thoroughly cultivated, but we were happy to see that it wasn't already an endless field of coal-fired power plants. Here my dad and Evan pass through a small village in the late afternoon before we set up camp between the road and a field of sunflowers.

National Highway G110, which runs from Beijing to Lhasa, is not a fun road. We were forced to ride it for several days for lack of other options out in the desert, and we regret almost every moment of it. On our second day in Inner Mongolia, the pavement disappeared and we were left with dust, trucks and a driving headwind. Here, a masked Dave struggles with the final stretch before our expensive lunch in a concrete imitation yurt.

Sometimes the ride just grinds you down, down, down and right into the sandy desert ground. We fought a driving headwind all morning on our second day in Inner Mongolia, making progress at a snail's pace. In the afternoon, the pavement on the national highway disappeared, and we were left with desert dust, rocks and coal-carrying trucks. The headwind of course, never abated. Suffice it to say, it was a bad day. Photo by Pete.

When Pete's chain popped off, got caught on the pedal and ripped his rear derailleur apart, we were fortunate to be within striking distance of Wuhai (烏海). There we searched in vain for a bike shop with some spare parts, only to be mobbed by the largest gathering of looky-loos we've seen in a long time. Most people scatter when we turn the tables and point our cameras at them, but not this guy, whose hat reads "Wuhai Jewelry Shop." Fortunately, on our way out of town after MacGuyver-rigging the bike ourselves, we passed a Giant shop where we were able to switch out the part.