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.
By Evan
Glorious landscapes of... Hebei! by Evan
Just two days ago when I woke up at 11:00am in my top bunk sleeper train berth, we were rushing past tranquil scenes of rolling green hills and high rice paddies. In fifteen short hours of much-needed repose coiled up in less space than corpses get in coffins, I had been passively sped back to the enchanting South and its rice, a sight that previously required two months of hard cycling across the Mad Max landscapes of the North China Plain. More than any moment in Beijing during the few days prior, it was those paddies that made me violently awaken to the fact that the all-consuming trip of my lifetime (up to this point), the one where the scenery changed gradually and pedal by pedal, is now over. As I now recall the last week up to the finale, all the events have taken on blurred edges as if part of a dream.
Without further ado, I should relate some of the details of that last week. To our dismay, the forecast called for up to six days of rain across all of central Inner Mongolia, and for once did not deceive us. The first bit out of Hohhot had us push up the longest, hardest hill we’d face for the rest of the week through a steady rain. The driving rain and gusty wind on the downhill robbed my body of all its heat and forced us to take shelter and change clothes in the first crappy restaurant of the town after the descent. I had gotten so chilled that Andy could in no way convince me to finish the day — it was still raining — to our goal, especially since the patron had cheap rooms to let. Then said patron did himself the disservice of attempting to double the cost of our fare on account of our having “cleaned up in the bathroom,” and so anger propelled me the last miserable 20 km. (more…)
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.
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