Portrait of an LBX

A group of men gather outside a newly reconstructed home in the earthquake-stricken area north of Chengdu. In contrast to entire towns that are being reconstructed, cookie-cutter-style, by state-owned construction companies from faraway places like Hunan and Guangdong, many of the individually reconstructed homes feature traditional styles as well as intricate woodwork and colorful designs.

. . . . . .

By Andy

2010/06/10 — 117 km

Little Weirdo, by Andy

This time we get out of our tents and packed up an hour earlier, although we still get on the road half an hour later than we would if we were in a hotel. Before we climb down from our plowed, planted perch, I check the altitude and find we’re at 2,390 m (7,841 ft). By the time we get on our bikes and climb to the top of the pass, we’re over 2,400 m (7,874 ft), the highest we’ve climbed on the trip, and possibly the highest we’ll get until we’re climbing up onto the Tibetan Plateau in Sichuan province.

We find breakfast 18 km later in the valley, and I’ve already gotten my head in a steam about the insane traffic that still plagues us. Fortunately, when we pull into the restaurant I notice that the long strand of trucks, buses and SUVs is originating from the expressway exit in town, and breathe a sigh of relief that we’ll be free of the awful traffic and numerous near-death encounters until the next time they decide to close off the expressway in one direction for a hundred kilometers or so.

The day turns out to be fairly easy and uneventful, consisting of long cruises through green, rice-covered valleys and the occasional climb over into the next.

We stop for lunch around two, but Evan doesn’t eat. We’ve got metabolisms about as opposite as they come. When we continue after lunch, we find the Yunnan architecture that we’ve been marveling at so much (and which I’ve failed to mention to this point) has grown even more interesting. (more…)

. . . . . .

By Andy

2010/05/26 — 119 km

It’s still raining when we groan awake at seven, so we decide to sleep for another hour. The rain is fizzling out as we crawl back to consciousness, and by the time we finish a breakfast of fried noodles and wantons at the restaurant attached to the hotel, it’s sun and blue skies as we shove off for Yunxian.

Did I mention it’s my birthday? We had originally planned to take three days to go from Gengma to Yunxian, but I was hoping to celebrate with something other than 3 kuai (44 cents), 600ml bottles of headache-inducing Kingbeer or baijiu, and requested we push the whole way in one day. The goal is to find a bottle of just about any foreign-produced whisky and some mint to make some semblance of mint juleps. With the late start, it’s going to be a challenge.

The first part of the day is a breeze. After a little climbing, we descend for nearly 20 km on long, graceful switchbacks for which we don’t evan have to hit the brakes, into a valley where we run into Devi waiting in front of a checkpoint for me to show up with her passport.

This is our second checkpoint (the first was on top of a mountain on our way to Lüchun (綠春縣), and we still haven’t quite figured out what purpose they serve. When we asked at the Lüchun checkpoint, the young, nervous guard in jungle camo had told us, “You’re not supposed to know that.” I guess it’s along the same lines of the state-secret of how to make faux-aged pu’er tea (普洱熟茶) that kept us out of the tea factory in Menghai (勐海). Perhaps they’re to keep the Burmese from moving into Yunnan’s the non-border counties, or maybe they’re to prevent drug smuggling. Regardless, after about ten minutes of careful passport checking and computer entry, we’re back on the road.
This time it’s a climb.

When we finally reach the town at the top of the mountain at lunchtime, Devi is nowhere in sight. Due to a communication mixup, she’s continued on to a small village where our road splits. After confirming that there’s a restaurant where she is, Evan and I push through another 10 km of ups and downs and eventually find Devi at a small, signless restaurant off the main road.

Scorpion in your tea on your birthday: sign of fortune or calaminty? by Andy

It’s here that one of the oddest events of the trip occurs. After ordering from among the sad collection of vegetables, the waitress seats us at a table and pours us each a glass of tea. Before taking a sip, I pull out the iPhone to check the route ahead and find out how many kilometers we have left. There’s a flash of movement out of the corner of my right eye and then the sound of a tiny splash. I look over to find that a scorpion has fallen from the ceiling and right into my tea!

“If this were Romance of the Three Kingdoms (三國演義),” Evan offers, “this would be the point where everyone at the table would jump up and stab you to death. That would’ve been the signal.” Fortunately for me, Cao Cao is nowhere in sight. The scorpion appears to be dead, and I decide it’s a sign of good fortune. When the waitress returns, Evan asks if there are many scorpions in the area. (more…)

. . . . . .

By Andy

2010/05/25 — 42 km

Devi, you're looking particularly Yi (彝族) today, by Andy

I wake up to the sound of a pitter-patter on the overhang outside the hotel window and the swish of car wheels on wet pavement outside. It’s raining. Evan, Devi and I all meet up in the hotel lobby to do some post writing and picture uploading, hoping the rain will let up.

Rain brings down our pace and our moods. Until today, the rain in Yunnan has come only in the form of monsoons — quick bursts of intense rain that drench us if we get caught in them, but which we can easily wait out without affecting our schedule if we can find shelter. It’s been a far cry from the weeks of steady, depressing downpours we were subjected to in the winter in Fujian province. To go back to the statistics spreadsheet that I’ve mentioned before, the rain in Fujian caused us to average a mere 33 km per day during our roughly one month in the province. In Yunnan, we’ve averaged 52 km per day over nearly a month and a half — and the mountains in Yunnan are much taller! Thinking about it makes the weather today seem all the more gloomy.

But it’s no longer winter, and Yunnan is warm. So when the steady rain turns to a drizzle, we pack up our gear and head out to breakfast. After a meal of noodles at one of two Muslim restaurants in town (which also serves at the only mosque in town), we make our way up to the town’s Buddhist temple where Evan has discovered a study session of monks from six counties is being held.

How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat, by Andy

Unfortunately, after our late start, we arrive just as the monks are breaking for lunch, but as luck would have it, they invite us to join them for lunch. We’re immediately surprised by the lack of discipline in the monks — when we arrive at the monastery, a group of them is standing outside the entrance smoking, and the majority of the dishes at lunch have meat in them. The meat is explained to us as a difference between the local Dai (傣族) style of Buddhism versus the Han (漢族) style, but the smokers outside are just being bad monks. From what we’ve witnessed on this trip, it seems that China has managed to water down the conventions of all its recognized religions — Muslim women don’t wear headscarves, Buddhist monks can get away with smoking, the bond between Catholics and the Pope is basically non-existent, etc. In China, it’s Religion Lite. (more…)

. . . . . .

By Andy

2010/05/23 — 90 km

The view climbing out of Danjia, by Andy

Right away Devi gets to witness our interminable stupidity. After another noodly breakfast, we climb 10 km out of town up cobblestone roads. The laoban at breakfast had told us to “just keep going straight” while motioning wildly to the right when we asked her how to get to Mengsheng (勐省), the halfway point on our trip to Gengma. So when at the top of the 10 km climb we get to a fork in the road, we head right and down the bumpy, cobblestone path for 4.5 km. When the disappears on the other side of a small town, I ask an old man the way to Mengsheng. I’m not exactly surprised when he points back up the hill and tells me to go the other way at the fork.

Half an hour later, we’re at the top again and taking the proper turn, which leads us down a few sit-bones-busting kilometers of cobblestones before finally spitting us out on the provincial road, which to our surprise, is completely torn up and under construction. The biggest reason we decided to take this route of crazy mountain roads was to avoid massive stretches of torn up provincial roads with trucks kicking dust up into our faces.

Good old construction for endless kilometers!

But here we are, and at least it’s downhill. In fact, we finally get to cash in all the elevation karma we’ve built up over the past few days in the mountains as we clamber down the uneven slope, descending for a full 20 km into the valley where we hit Mengsheng for lunch.

On our way out of Mengsheng we ask five or six times how to get to Gengma, each time receiving different answers. Some have never even heard of the place, which is the county seat of the next county over. Others tell us to head back up to the torn up provincial road high above, while others tell us to head down the hill and out of town. Eventually enough people tell us to go out of town until we get to a bridge that we figure that’s probably the way to go. (more…)

. . . . . .

We've been riding through some real mountains lately. In order to avoid the under-construction national road (國道) from Lancang (瀾滄縣) to Lincang (臨滄市), we decided to take some back roads through the mountains. On this particular day, we rode on a ridge at elevations from 1,400 to 2,000 meters (4,600 to 6,500 feet), never dropping down into the valley. There was also not a restaurant to be found before our starting point in the morning and our ending point at night. Fortunately, we each pack a healthy serving of trail mix for such emergencies.

. . . . . .

By Andy

2010/05/22 — 83 km

After a breakfast of (you guessed it) noodles, which Devi forgoes, we shoot out of town on a newly paved road, flying down the mountain a top speed and slowing down only to work our way through packs of cows walking down the road. We hit flat land and then some uphill, but something doesn’t seem quite right.

“We’re not going in the right direction,” Evan says, tapping the compass mounted to his handlebars. We ask the next person we see on the road, and sure enough, we’re on the road heading to the Burma border to the west. We call ahead to Devi to get her to turn back, and then begin the climb back up the mountain to Xuelin. Nearly back to the village, and now 7 km into our ride, we see a sign and a turnoff that we failed to notice while flying down the mountain. It’s good Devi gets to see how unfailingly stupid we are.

Our new road is no longer paved. Thankfully it’s not cobblestone either — just a sandy, dirt road, washed out from the massive rainstorm the night before. Why China would build a newly paved road straight to the Burma border but leave the road between Chinese towns a washed-out mess is beyond me. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that logging is illegal in China, but Burma has abundant rain forests that are strangely disappearing and being replaced by bare, clear-cut mountains. I’m no expert.

Personally the main reason I don’t like dirt roads is that I have to go slowly when going downhill. The whole fun of climbing a mountain for me, besides the incredible view from the top, is the rush of careening down it on the other side. Nevertheless, we hit the bottom far too soon, and it’s time to begin climbing.

Today is a climb like we’ve never had. The small, dirt road, barely more than a path really, shoots straight up the heavily wooded mountain, like whoever dug it out in the first place had never heard of a switchback. My legs, with all the power and discipline of eight months on the road, strain to keep me moving forward. It’s not a particularly hot day, overcast in fact, but within minutes my jersey, shorts and socks are heavy with sweat and I’m trying to blink the sting out of my eyes. I have to pause every kilometer or two for a breather. (more…)

. . . . . .

By Andy

2010/05/21 — 47 km

Having arrived so late in Fubang the night before, we opt for a “natural wake-up” (自然醒) rather than the usual alarm. It’s the best night of sleep I’ve had in a week. We frequently wonder why we don’t get better sleep considering the physical trials we put ourselves through daily. The night before took it out of me physically, but I think the mental exertion involved in the snails-pace climb up 15 kilometers of cobblestone road alone in the dark jungle was what finally brought me to the point of true exhaustion and thus a good night’s sleep.

We walk down the street to what looks like the only restaurant in town for a breakfast of noodles, which Devi is already tiring of. Since Henan, baozi and jiaozi have been scarce, and breakfast has been noodles just about every day.

After breakfast, we leave behind the concrete road in Fubang for the cobblestones again. To my surprise, the mountain keeps going up! As if 15 km of climbing wasn’t enough! A kilometer later we reach our turnoff, just as the sky once again starts to look like it wants to pick a fight with us.

Waiting out one last bit of rain after lunch, by Andy

Our new road is cobblestone as well, when it’s not mud, and it quickly dashes my hopes and dreams of an easy descent for the first half of our ride. It also seems to fork into two directions every few kilometers, and we keep having to stop and wait for another passerby on a moped to make sure we stay on the right route. China doesn’t bother making signs for most things, probably because the roads are traveled almost exclusively by locals who have no use for signs. (more…)

. . . . . .

By Andy

Note: With Alexis having moved on to do his own thing, there’s now no one keeping a diary of daily events, in English, French or any other language. I’m going to attempt to pick up some of that task, but being as unreasonably wordy as I am and only having so many hours in the day, I’m going to have to limit it to some of my more memorable riding days. This is one such day.

We set out from Lancang late in the morning as has been our habit lately after two days of rest and a woefully low-budget celebration of Devi and my four years together. In the dreary city of Lancang we’re unable to find even a restaurant with four walls. Fortunately, my mom has sent over a bottle of Cuvaison 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon for my birthday, and after finding a couple wine glasses at the local supermarket, we manage to make a memorable evening out of it at a Sichuan restaurant down the street from our hotel.

We hear from numerous people that the road from Lancang to Lincang is torn up and under construction for the entire 267km. The willingness of the government here to inconvenience people on that sort of scale continues to amaze us. I just try to imagine heading onto the road from Harrisburg to Philadelphia back home and seeing a sign that says, “Construction next 100 miles.” But in China, there’s no sign, no detour markers, and the road is under construction for 165 miles. Having gone nearly insane a few weeks previously on a similar, 60km stretch of under-construction national road through the mountains a couple weeks previously, we decide to take a radical route through the mountains, even though the thought of the switchbacks on Google Maps make our stomachs curl.

The road starts out pleasantly enough as we move out of the rather miserable county seat of Lancang and past about a dozen fish farms selling tilapia fry (there are also shops in town selling expensive fishing gear for those who want to go dangle a line in one of the small ponds). We hit the first construction just as the sky begins to turn an ominous dark gray and the wind picks up worrying notch, and we seek shelter under a gas station that has been converted into a rebar-welding depot for the construction work. After 15 minutes or so there’s still no rain in sight, and we continue on our merry way.

It turns out the road is not nearly as bad as we imagine, as most of the construction of the new highway is being done high above on the mountain while we crank along on the old two-lane road far below. I start thinking, “If it’s going to be like this the whole way, we might as well just keep going and skip the crazy mountain route.” But not wanting to jinx things I keep my mouth shut. (more…)

. . . . . .

During my two rides through Yuanyang I have only been fortunate enough to see the areas directly adjacent to the S214 provincial road. There are many other beautiful vistas, but I think Tiger Mouth (老虎嘴) is certainly one of the most impressive! So impressive, in fact, that I had to make an extra-large version of this HDR shot of the valley to show all the detail! Click the photo to see it. The white dots are the tiny huts in which the farmers live during the planting and harvest seasons.

. . . . . .