Thursday, November 27th, 2008 at Whole Wheat and Honey Coffee Shop (corner of 100th and 100th). Please come at 7:00 if you want coffee and snacks. The show will start at 7:30.
There will be a donation jar at the door just to help cover the cost of the show (keeping the coffee shop open late) so please bring some spare change.
Come one come all! Please pass this info on to anyone you think might be interested.
See you all on Thursday night.
Christine & Jodie
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
In Numbers
Some stats from the trip:
Total kilometers: 1900 km
Total elevation gain (over large passes only): 9540 meters
Highest pass: 4282 meters
Available oxygen in the air at 4282m: less than 1/2 of at sea level
Days riding: 33
Days spent dealing with central asian bureaucracy: 6
Rest days: 7
Sick days: 11 (ick!)
Riding-in-the-snow days: 4
Coldest night: -14C
Kilograms of Nutella consumed: 3
Flat tires: 0 (we love schwalble!)
Real stand-up hot showers: 2
Total kilometers: 1900 km
Total elevation gain (over large passes only): 9540 meters
Highest pass: 4282 meters
Available oxygen in the air at 4282m: less than 1/2 of at sea level
Days riding: 33
Days spent dealing with central asian bureaucracy: 6
Rest days: 7
Sick days: 11 (ick!)
Riding-in-the-snow days: 4
Coldest night: -14C
Kilograms of Nutella consumed: 3
Flat tires: 0 (we love schwalble!)
Real stand-up hot showers: 2
Oh Canada!
We made it! We are in Vancouver and have already taken warm, stand up showers, enjoyed some non-stop tap water along with a nice COLD beer from Boston Pizza, and slept in beds with clean sheets... ahhh the luxury! It seems like a bit of a shock to the system and the details of the trip already seem to be fading into a story from the past...
We are on our way up to Fort St John tomorrow and will soon be working on a slide show. We are planning to show it this Thursday evening. The details are still in progress, so keep watching for updates.
We are on our way up to Fort St John tomorrow and will soon be working on a slide show. We are planning to show it this Thursday evening. The details are still in progress, so keep watching for updates.
We got a great big convoy, aint she a beautiful sight...
We had this and every other trucker song in our heads as we rattled over the last leg of our journey with the convoy of Tajik transport tucks.
With low energy from being sick and only a few days left, we decided that we had to start hitching. The first day out of Khorog, our bikes got a nice ride in the back of a highway crew's dump truck for about 100 rattly kilometers. That night we stayed in a little roadside hotel and woke up to a parking lot full of trucks. In the morning, I started asking about rides to Dushanbe. Their loads were all tagged so they couldn't open them to load bikes, but they were more than willing to take us anyway and ended up cramming all of our dirty gear in the cabs. With our bikes and bobs in four different trucks, we made sure that we had our money, passports and plane tickets on us in case we never saw that gear again. We hopped in with 'John Rambo' and 'Morog' to start the adventure. We were told that it would take 15 hours to Dushanbe. The 550 kilometers ended up taking a total of 32 hours and was an adventure and a cultural experience to say the least!
We had a lot of laughs with this group and as we got to know them, soon came up with a list of nicknames. I wont go into detail about them, but use your imagination... They included John Rambo or Joey from friends, The Prophets, Lola, Che Guevara (the Tajik version), and Ole Dad. It was great to watch their interactions, they are just like family and are constantly bantering back and forth and laughing. We often weren't really sure if they were arguing or just talking, but these loud discussions would often end with boyish handshakes, high fives or fake punches.
The road quality is probably best described as treacherous. It's hard to believe that a road connecting two of the country's major cities could be a single lane boulder field for most of the distance. We clung to the edge of a cliff as we wound our way along the Panj river that is the boarder between Afghanistan and Tajikistan. We would stop to throw freshly fallen boulders off of the road while carefully watching above for anymore that might be falling down. Around corners, we would honk to let traffic know that we were coming. When we could meet another big truck, one of us would back up to a slightly wider section, fold the mirrors in and hold our breath as the other would inch by. When Christine and I were sure that we were going to go tumbling over the cliff at any moment, she asked to get out and our driver Morog burst out laughing saying, "Normal! Normal!"
It might be because of the rough road, the quality of the tires, or the fact that our bad luck seems to be contagious these days, but we had THREE flat tires on our truck alone! Each time, the whole convoy would stop to help with the process. It went like this: put rocks under the tires so the truck can't roll, put on 'work clothes,' take a chew of raw tobacco, jack up the axle with the flat, remove the tire, pry the tire off the rim, use random tools (different every time) to chisel the tube off of the rim, pull out the tube and toss it over the bank, clean the rim and cover it with dirt, put the new tube in, start the air flow, smash the pieces of the rim back together and put the tire back on, wash your hands and face, change clothes, remove the rocks from the tires and get on the road (not that you were ever off of it in the first place- the whole time you are watching for other vehicles passing by). This is even more interesting in the dark and when all of these steps have been completed only to find that the tire itself is blown and will have to be replaced. At this point the tools start to fly and we do our best to decipher the Tajik cuss words...
We were very amused with the level of personal care that our driver displayed. After a flat he would have us pour water for him as he washed with soap (not so common in this here). He would change his entire outfit, fix his hair and get back into the truck to spray Hogo (not Hugo, Hogo) cologne and to finish the process, he would spend five minutes moisturizing his hands. Who knew a Tajik trucker could be so concerned with his look? He also often sprayed air fresher everywhere, leaving us coughing and gasping for air. The dash and the floor were wiped when we were waiting for others and everything was always neat and tidy. When you live in your truck, it's nice to keep it clean.
And live it it we did! At two am and another 165 kilometers to Dushanbe, we stopped for sleep at a truck stop. We were on asphalt at that point so it seemed crazy to be stopping so close to our destination, but what we didn't realize was that the road would soon go back to single lane dirt and would be another eight hours the following day. We were happy to sleep in the seats and let the Morog have the bed but he insisted that we take it. Not feeling like arguing all night we gave in and Chris and I shared a two and a half foot wide bed - yet another bonding experience! Five hours later we were back on the road, listening to our favorite four song Russian cassette tape.
We arrived in Dushanbe with some great memories and a better understanding of Tajik culture. Despite the fact that we had to turn down a few marriage proposals, this was a safe and amusing way wrap up our trip.
With low energy from being sick and only a few days left, we decided that we had to start hitching. The first day out of Khorog, our bikes got a nice ride in the back of a highway crew's dump truck for about 100 rattly kilometers. That night we stayed in a little roadside hotel and woke up to a parking lot full of trucks. In the morning, I started asking about rides to Dushanbe. Their loads were all tagged so they couldn't open them to load bikes, but they were more than willing to take us anyway and ended up cramming all of our dirty gear in the cabs. With our bikes and bobs in four different trucks, we made sure that we had our money, passports and plane tickets on us in case we never saw that gear again. We hopped in with 'John Rambo' and 'Morog' to start the adventure. We were told that it would take 15 hours to Dushanbe. The 550 kilometers ended up taking a total of 32 hours and was an adventure and a cultural experience to say the least!
We had a lot of laughs with this group and as we got to know them, soon came up with a list of nicknames. I wont go into detail about them, but use your imagination... They included John Rambo or Joey from friends, The Prophets, Lola, Che Guevara (the Tajik version), and Ole Dad. It was great to watch their interactions, they are just like family and are constantly bantering back and forth and laughing. We often weren't really sure if they were arguing or just talking, but these loud discussions would often end with boyish handshakes, high fives or fake punches.
The road quality is probably best described as treacherous. It's hard to believe that a road connecting two of the country's major cities could be a single lane boulder field for most of the distance. We clung to the edge of a cliff as we wound our way along the Panj river that is the boarder between Afghanistan and Tajikistan. We would stop to throw freshly fallen boulders off of the road while carefully watching above for anymore that might be falling down. Around corners, we would honk to let traffic know that we were coming. When we could meet another big truck, one of us would back up to a slightly wider section, fold the mirrors in and hold our breath as the other would inch by. When Christine and I were sure that we were going to go tumbling over the cliff at any moment, she asked to get out and our driver Morog burst out laughing saying, "Normal! Normal!"
It might be because of the rough road, the quality of the tires, or the fact that our bad luck seems to be contagious these days, but we had THREE flat tires on our truck alone! Each time, the whole convoy would stop to help with the process. It went like this: put rocks under the tires so the truck can't roll, put on 'work clothes,' take a chew of raw tobacco, jack up the axle with the flat, remove the tire, pry the tire off the rim, use random tools (different every time) to chisel the tube off of the rim, pull out the tube and toss it over the bank, clean the rim and cover it with dirt, put the new tube in, start the air flow, smash the pieces of the rim back together and put the tire back on, wash your hands and face, change clothes, remove the rocks from the tires and get on the road (not that you were ever off of it in the first place- the whole time you are watching for other vehicles passing by). This is even more interesting in the dark and when all of these steps have been completed only to find that the tire itself is blown and will have to be replaced. At this point the tools start to fly and we do our best to decipher the Tajik cuss words...
We were very amused with the level of personal care that our driver displayed. After a flat he would have us pour water for him as he washed with soap (not so common in this here). He would change his entire outfit, fix his hair and get back into the truck to spray Hogo (not Hugo, Hogo) cologne and to finish the process, he would spend five minutes moisturizing his hands. Who knew a Tajik trucker could be so concerned with his look? He also often sprayed air fresher everywhere, leaving us coughing and gasping for air. The dash and the floor were wiped when we were waiting for others and everything was always neat and tidy. When you live in your truck, it's nice to keep it clean.
And live it it we did! At two am and another 165 kilometers to Dushanbe, we stopped for sleep at a truck stop. We were on asphalt at that point so it seemed crazy to be stopping so close to our destination, but what we didn't realize was that the road would soon go back to single lane dirt and would be another eight hours the following day. We were happy to sleep in the seats and let the Morog have the bed but he insisted that we take it. Not feeling like arguing all night we gave in and Chris and I shared a two and a half foot wide bed - yet another bonding experience! Five hours later we were back on the road, listening to our favorite four song Russian cassette tape.
We arrived in Dushanbe with some great memories and a better understanding of Tajik culture. Despite the fact that we had to turn down a few marriage proposals, this was a safe and amusing way wrap up our trip.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Afghanistan
It was a crazy feeling when we first looked across the Panj River that divides Tajikistan and Afghanistan. We were almost speechless, just thinking, "Wow, that's it..." That scary place that we hear so much about in the western media. Yet across the river, in the small villages full of simple mudbrick homes, miles of hand-built stone fences and deciduous trees in a full palette of fall colors, there were no bombs flying, guns firing, buildings burning. There were just people going about their daily lives - herding livestock, moving along footpaths between homes and between villages, playing soccer on the flats by the river. Many of the people on the Afghan side in this area would have been Tajik enthnicity and I found it crazy to think of how different their lives must be from their neighbors; how their fates were sealed by the arbitrary drawing of a line on a map by politicians so far removed.
On the Afghan side of the river, there were no roads. For hundreds of kilometers, as we rattled and bounced along Tajikistan's main highway, we looked across at the footpath in Afghanistan. I was completely fascinated by it and found it hard to take my eyes off of it. In flatter areas (of which there aren't many), the trail was paved by hundreds of years of donkey caravans, sheep and cattle herds and pedestrians moving back and forth between villages and towns. The small villages were spread about a day's walk apart and we never did see a large town where one might buy supplies. We did see a few small donkey caravans carrying heavy loads, probably walking for several days in each direction to the nearest market. Along the cliffs that ran alongside most of the Panj, wood and rocks were used to build narrow bridges between ledges in the cliff and headspace or extra width was chisled out of the rock by hand. The entire length of it that we followed was an incredible feat of engineering, made all the more impressive by the knowledge that it was 100s of years old.
We couldn't help but think of what an amazing trip it would be to travel along this network of paths by foot but don't worry, we won't be buying tickets to Afghanistan anytime soon!
Christine
On the Afghan side of the river, there were no roads. For hundreds of kilometers, as we rattled and bounced along Tajikistan's main highway, we looked across at the footpath in Afghanistan. I was completely fascinated by it and found it hard to take my eyes off of it. In flatter areas (of which there aren't many), the trail was paved by hundreds of years of donkey caravans, sheep and cattle herds and pedestrians moving back and forth between villages and towns. The small villages were spread about a day's walk apart and we never did see a large town where one might buy supplies. We did see a few small donkey caravans carrying heavy loads, probably walking for several days in each direction to the nearest market. Along the cliffs that ran alongside most of the Panj, wood and rocks were used to build narrow bridges between ledges in the cliff and headspace or extra width was chisled out of the rock by hand. The entire length of it that we followed was an incredible feat of engineering, made all the more impressive by the knowledge that it was 100s of years old.
We couldn't help but think of what an amazing trip it would be to travel along this network of paths by foot but don't worry, we won't be buying tickets to Afghanistan anytime soon!
Christine
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Finish Line: Dushanbe
We made it! We're in Dushanbe and just have to box our bikes and do some Christmas shopping before our flight home.
Unfortunately, we did't make it on our bikes. It only took us about 40kms from Khorog to decide that we still weren't up to riding and so we started hitching. It was quite an adventure and cultural experience in itself, joining a 5-truck tajik convoy for 32 hours (which will be the topic of a blog in the next day or two).
We're still not healthy, but happy to be in the capital and soon to fly home. In the meantime, we'll be taking good care of each other.
Watch for an announcement for our slideshow in the next day or two as well - it'll be next week sometime in FSJ, we just have to book a room somewhere.
Unfortunately, we did't make it on our bikes. It only took us about 40kms from Khorog to decide that we still weren't up to riding and so we started hitching. It was quite an adventure and cultural experience in itself, joining a 5-truck tajik convoy for 32 hours (which will be the topic of a blog in the next day or two).
We're still not healthy, but happy to be in the capital and soon to fly home. In the meantime, we'll be taking good care of each other.
Watch for an announcement for our slideshow in the next day or two as well - it'll be next week sometime in FSJ, we just have to book a room somewhere.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Speaking of the Loo...
Jodie and I have been way-laid in Khorog for several days now, battling a bout of giardia. We managed to track down some drugs yesterday and are on the way to recovery. We've been very lucky to have a comfortable place to stay with a very nice hostess cooking for us and flushing western toilets! If all goes well today, we'll hit the road again tomorrow for 3-4 more days of riding before making a beeline for Dushanbe (the capital city) and our flight home.
Fingers crossed for good strong stomachs and sunny skies for our last few days on the road, please!
Fingers crossed for good strong stomachs and sunny skies for our last few days on the road, please!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Loo, Loo, skip to the Loo
Ok, the toilets in Central Asia deserve their very own special mention here. They're a pretty big part of our day (some days more than others!) so we don't always appreciate the sheer variety of them....
~ The ultimate is the classic western toilet with a seat and everything. Bonus if it's actually indoors and double bonus if it flushes! We've only seen 4-5 of these gems on our trip.
~ Mid-range is the classic western toilet without a seat or the outdoor sitter. Also fairly uncommon.
~ The classic is the outdoor squatter. Usually placed far enough from the house that you need to bundle up before every night-time excursion and usually have to dodge a snarling dog en route. The hole is usually diamond shaped and there are raised foot-holds on either side. Aim is a bit of an issue in these. Now for a bit of a rant. Jodie and I have only been here for 2 months, and we've more or lessed mastered the art of aiming at a squatter.... WHY CAN LOCALS NOT DO THIS?!?!?! I mean they've grown up with these and they still seem to get more crap around the hole than in it.
~ The icky-yucky, bottom of the barrel option is the public indoor squatter. Same aim problems as with outdoor sqatters, but maybe it just seems worse because it's on a white ceramic squatter rather than a brown wood one. I don't know, but these ones make me feel like I need to use hand sanitizer up to my elbows. Oddly, they're the ones you have to pay for. At every entrance, there's a woman collecting about 20 cents per person and handing you far too little toilet paper*.
* A note on toilet paper: All but the public squatters are BYOTP so we usually tote a whole roll around with us every day. In Kyrgyzstan, the toilet paper is more like sand-paper. In Tajikistan, it's a little softer but flimsy so you need to use a lot to make sure at least some layer in there holds together!
** Finding a toilet (of any kind) with walls AND a door is a treat. In many cases, there are 2-3 holes in a row. Even in co-ed bathrooms! I wasn't sure if anyone actually used the toilet side by side (we're talking like 2 feet apart with nothing between you) until the night in Jelandy. After I waited for a man to finish smoking and squatting in the women's (awkward), I went in to do my business. On the other side of the thin wall, I could hear at least 3 men smoking and talking...and grunting and flatulating!
I hope nobody was reading this over dinner and sorry if anyone finds it in poor taste. But really, don't most of us appreciate a good toilet story?!
Christine
~ The ultimate is the classic western toilet with a seat and everything. Bonus if it's actually indoors and double bonus if it flushes! We've only seen 4-5 of these gems on our trip.
~ Mid-range is the classic western toilet without a seat or the outdoor sitter. Also fairly uncommon.
~ The classic is the outdoor squatter. Usually placed far enough from the house that you need to bundle up before every night-time excursion and usually have to dodge a snarling dog en route. The hole is usually diamond shaped and there are raised foot-holds on either side. Aim is a bit of an issue in these. Now for a bit of a rant. Jodie and I have only been here for 2 months, and we've more or lessed mastered the art of aiming at a squatter.... WHY CAN LOCALS NOT DO THIS?!?!?! I mean they've grown up with these and they still seem to get more crap around the hole than in it.
~ The icky-yucky, bottom of the barrel option is the public indoor squatter. Same aim problems as with outdoor sqatters, but maybe it just seems worse because it's on a white ceramic squatter rather than a brown wood one. I don't know, but these ones make me feel like I need to use hand sanitizer up to my elbows. Oddly, they're the ones you have to pay for. At every entrance, there's a woman collecting about 20 cents per person and handing you far too little toilet paper*.
* A note on toilet paper: All but the public squatters are BYOTP so we usually tote a whole roll around with us every day. In Kyrgyzstan, the toilet paper is more like sand-paper. In Tajikistan, it's a little softer but flimsy so you need to use a lot to make sure at least some layer in there holds together!
** Finding a toilet (of any kind) with walls AND a door is a treat. In many cases, there are 2-3 holes in a row. Even in co-ed bathrooms! I wasn't sure if anyone actually used the toilet side by side (we're talking like 2 feet apart with nothing between you) until the night in Jelandy. After I waited for a man to finish smoking and squatting in the women's (awkward), I went in to do my business. On the other side of the thin wall, I could hear at least 3 men smoking and talking...and grunting and flatulating!
I hope nobody was reading this over dinner and sorry if anyone finds it in poor taste. But really, don't most of us appreciate a good toilet story?!
Christine
Saturday, November 08, 2008
From Barn Yards to Border Guards
We often find that the hardest and most uncertian part of our day is between four pm and eight pm. Around four we begin looking for somewhere safe and comefortable to sleep; we are usually settled in and happy with our choice by around eight. We are never really sure where we might end up and it is really an adventure every time. Here is a list of some of our 'campsites' over the past two weeks:
-> Kyrgyz Customs Building - private room, hot water heated, and protected by Customs Guards
-> Homestays - these vary from having our own room to a room shared with the entire family
-they are always decorated with beautiful rugs and lots of warm blankets
-provide hot chai and lots good food
-> Roadside Tent Site - hiding in the ditch trying to get some shelter from the wind
- waking up to a blanket of fresh snow
-> Hotel Room - Private, locking doors, BEDS, and a hot springs connected to the building
-> Abandoned Barn - 4230m, on a nice thick layer of sheep poo, -14 degrees
-waking up in the night to a rat chewing on Christine's BOB
Where are you sleeping tonight?
Jodie
-> Kyrgyz Customs Building - private room, hot water heated, and protected by Customs Guards
-> Homestays - these vary from having our own room to a room shared with the entire family
-they are always decorated with beautiful rugs and lots of warm blankets
-provide hot chai and lots good food
-> Roadside Tent Site - hiding in the ditch trying to get some shelter from the wind
- waking up to a blanket of fresh snow
-> Hotel Room - Private, locking doors, BEDS, and a hot springs connected to the building
-> Abandoned Barn - 4230m, on a nice thick layer of sheep poo, -14 degrees
-waking up in the night to a rat chewing on Christine's BOB
Where are you sleeping tonight?
Jodie
Christine! Get in here - I think we're making felt!
We were camping in the yard of some wonderful people after a long day on the bikes when they decided that it would be a good idea to give us a cultural experiance and put me to work.
I had been 'chatting' (as much as you can chat with someone who speaks a different language) with one of the women when another came out of the house, grabbed my arm and drug me inside. She was laughing and motioning for me to roll up my sleeves. Not sure what I was getting into, I followed the orders. We went into a room where there was a tarp covered in a thick layer of sheep wool. Three of us got onto our knees and began gently rolling up the tarp and wool as another poured boiling water through a strainer and onto the wool. Once it was rolled in the tarp, we secured it tightly with twine and the real work began.
We took the roll onto another mat, got back on our hands and knees and began rolling it back and forth. With each roll, we would flop all of our weight onto our forearms and the roll in order to compress the wool. It was actually quite hard work, but a lot of fun! The woman on my left kept flopping over and hitting me with her hips, laughing all the while. We counted in Kyrgyz and then in English, and then there were a bunch of words that I didn't understand...
We unrolled that, pulled off clumps of hair that were not matting properly and then removed the tarp. Again more boiling water was added and then just the felt mat was re-rolled. We covered it in plastic and went back to work with our forearms. Of course, the laughing and pushing continued with the work. We unrolled, re-rolled from the other end and worked it again and again. The last time we unrolled it, it was folded up, wrapped in twine, soaked in boiling water and set outside to dry and cool.
They showed us one of the coulourful traditional felt rugs that they had made in the past so we could see what a finished product would look like. What an incredible, yet simple process! It has given me so much more appreciation for all of the beautiful rugs and felted products that we are seeing everywhere! It is also wonderful that they realized what a great experiance that it would be for us and let us take part.
Jodie
I had been 'chatting' (as much as you can chat with someone who speaks a different language) with one of the women when another came out of the house, grabbed my arm and drug me inside. She was laughing and motioning for me to roll up my sleeves. Not sure what I was getting into, I followed the orders. We went into a room where there was a tarp covered in a thick layer of sheep wool. Three of us got onto our knees and began gently rolling up the tarp and wool as another poured boiling water through a strainer and onto the wool. Once it was rolled in the tarp, we secured it tightly with twine and the real work began.
We took the roll onto another mat, got back on our hands and knees and began rolling it back and forth. With each roll, we would flop all of our weight onto our forearms and the roll in order to compress the wool. It was actually quite hard work, but a lot of fun! The woman on my left kept flopping over and hitting me with her hips, laughing all the while. We counted in Kyrgyz and then in English, and then there were a bunch of words that I didn't understand...
We unrolled that, pulled off clumps of hair that were not matting properly and then removed the tarp. Again more boiling water was added and then just the felt mat was re-rolled. We covered it in plastic and went back to work with our forearms. Of course, the laughing and pushing continued with the work. We unrolled, re-rolled from the other end and worked it again and again. The last time we unrolled it, it was folded up, wrapped in twine, soaked in boiling water and set outside to dry and cool.
They showed us one of the coulourful traditional felt rugs that they had made in the past so we could see what a finished product would look like. What an incredible, yet simple process! It has given me so much more appreciation for all of the beautiful rugs and felted products that we are seeing everywhere! It is also wonderful that they realized what a great experiance that it would be for us and let us take part.
Jodie
Friday, November 07, 2008
Snowin' and Blowin'
For much of our ride across the Pamirs, I was reminded of the Canadian Arctic and quite appropriately had lines from a Robert Service poem in my head:
"To speak of the cold through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
Till at times we could not see...
It wasn't much fun but the only one
To whimper was...Christine!"
We pushed our bikes up the steep, rough road to the top of the Kizil Art pass that marks the border between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Everyone we talked to assured us that there would be snow on the Kyrgyz side, but as soon as you cross into Tajikistan and descend onto the Pamir Plateau, there would be none. The plateau is nearly a desert and in the fall, it should be clear and cold.
We were coughing and sputtering as we reached the top of the 4250m pass (there's only 1/2 the available oxygen in the air at 4000m as at sea level), and stopped only long enough to take a few victory pictures with the "Tajikistan" sign and to bundle up against the cold wind. The clouds had been brewing all day, but we were relieved to see that, indeed, there was no snow on the south side of the pass! We were home free!
We pitched our tent next to the road that night, using the steep ditch as a wind break. Crawling into bed that night, we were cold but happy to be free of the snow and rain that we had run into in Kyrgyzstan. As we lay there writing in our journals, the wind even died down and we fell into a deep sleep, tuckered out from a long climb...
When we unzipped the tent fly the next morning, there were 2-3 inches of fresh snow on the ground, and more was falling so that the white of the sky and mountains merged and the entire landscape was nothing but snow. As much as we love snow, it was an ominous start to our trip across the Pamirs and we worried that we might not be able to cross some of the passes. As we had several weeks before in Kyrgyzstan, we rode slowly and carefully, following a set of truck tracks as best we could until they disappeared beneath more snow.
Riding to the top of the next pass kept us warm and the road was always discernable despite the storm. The ride down was more treacherous than the ride up and we sqeezed the brakes, afraid of our tires losing traction and making us crash. Eventually, the wind came up, the clouds started to break and the snow on the road became slush. Soon the descent was no longer slippery, but wet and the spray and dampness in the air had us shivering in the cold wind.
We cowered in the shelter of a culvert opening for lunch. When we stood up and turned around, we were shocked to see that the sky had opened up so that we had an incredible view of Karakol Lake. It was a surreal carribean blue, studded with freshly snow-covered islands and incredibly beautiful. The wind continued for the rest of the day, but at least it was blowing the storm away and so we were happy for it....
But wind wasn't always our friend. After spending 2 beautiful sunny, calm days off in Murgab to recover from a head cold, the wind started to blow again on the day we set out. At first, it was bearable and we were so excited about the beauty of the mountains and valleys that surrounded us that we were able to ignore it. Well, the wind of the Pamirs doesn't like to be ignored. So it blew harder. And harder. And harder. And always against us. The first night, we were lucky to find a home that would accept guests near the top of the pass that we were climbing and took refuge there for the night. The next day, the wind continued to blow in our faces so hard that despite being a 'net downhill' day, we crawled along at speeds half of what we would normally do on the same roads. This day, we actually crawled right inside on a culvert to eat lunch and escape the constant and mind-shattering noise of the wind in our ears. On the wide open plain, there was nowhere to take refuge and we didn't think that our tent would hold up in such a raging wind, so we pushed ourselves to keep going to the next town where we could find a sheltered place to sleep. It was the longest day that we spent in the saddle so far: 7 hours 11 minutes. Seven very difficult hours... But at last we were warm and fed in the comfort of a local family's home.
I like to think that life will only throw as much at you as you can handle and life must have realized how close to our limits we were with the winter weather in the Pamirs because our last two days up on the high plateau were clear, calm and beautiful - absolutely perfect riding conditions for the most spectacular part of the highway!
Christine
"To speak of the cold through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
Till at times we could not see...
It wasn't much fun but the only one
To whimper was...Christine!"
We pushed our bikes up the steep, rough road to the top of the Kizil Art pass that marks the border between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Everyone we talked to assured us that there would be snow on the Kyrgyz side, but as soon as you cross into Tajikistan and descend onto the Pamir Plateau, there would be none. The plateau is nearly a desert and in the fall, it should be clear and cold.
We were coughing and sputtering as we reached the top of the 4250m pass (there's only 1/2 the available oxygen in the air at 4000m as at sea level), and stopped only long enough to take a few victory pictures with the "Tajikistan" sign and to bundle up against the cold wind. The clouds had been brewing all day, but we were relieved to see that, indeed, there was no snow on the south side of the pass! We were home free!
We pitched our tent next to the road that night, using the steep ditch as a wind break. Crawling into bed that night, we were cold but happy to be free of the snow and rain that we had run into in Kyrgyzstan. As we lay there writing in our journals, the wind even died down and we fell into a deep sleep, tuckered out from a long climb...
When we unzipped the tent fly the next morning, there were 2-3 inches of fresh snow on the ground, and more was falling so that the white of the sky and mountains merged and the entire landscape was nothing but snow. As much as we love snow, it was an ominous start to our trip across the Pamirs and we worried that we might not be able to cross some of the passes. As we had several weeks before in Kyrgyzstan, we rode slowly and carefully, following a set of truck tracks as best we could until they disappeared beneath more snow.
Riding to the top of the next pass kept us warm and the road was always discernable despite the storm. The ride down was more treacherous than the ride up and we sqeezed the brakes, afraid of our tires losing traction and making us crash. Eventually, the wind came up, the clouds started to break and the snow on the road became slush. Soon the descent was no longer slippery, but wet and the spray and dampness in the air had us shivering in the cold wind.
We cowered in the shelter of a culvert opening for lunch. When we stood up and turned around, we were shocked to see that the sky had opened up so that we had an incredible view of Karakol Lake. It was a surreal carribean blue, studded with freshly snow-covered islands and incredibly beautiful. The wind continued for the rest of the day, but at least it was blowing the storm away and so we were happy for it....
But wind wasn't always our friend. After spending 2 beautiful sunny, calm days off in Murgab to recover from a head cold, the wind started to blow again on the day we set out. At first, it was bearable and we were so excited about the beauty of the mountains and valleys that surrounded us that we were able to ignore it. Well, the wind of the Pamirs doesn't like to be ignored. So it blew harder. And harder. And harder. And always against us. The first night, we were lucky to find a home that would accept guests near the top of the pass that we were climbing and took refuge there for the night. The next day, the wind continued to blow in our faces so hard that despite being a 'net downhill' day, we crawled along at speeds half of what we would normally do on the same roads. This day, we actually crawled right inside on a culvert to eat lunch and escape the constant and mind-shattering noise of the wind in our ears. On the wide open plain, there was nowhere to take refuge and we didn't think that our tent would hold up in such a raging wind, so we pushed ourselves to keep going to the next town where we could find a sheltered place to sleep. It was the longest day that we spent in the saddle so far: 7 hours 11 minutes. Seven very difficult hours... But at last we were warm and fed in the comfort of a local family's home.
I like to think that life will only throw as much at you as you can handle and life must have realized how close to our limits we were with the winter weather in the Pamirs because our last two days up on the high plateau were clear, calm and beautiful - absolutely perfect riding conditions for the most spectacular part of the highway!
Christine
Since our last blog....
We've climbed over 5000 vertical meters on our bikes, ridden through a snowstorm and fought to maintain our sanity through 2 days of strong headwinds....so we're exhaustend! But the Pamir highway was even more remote and beautiful that we imagined and we've got a lot of great memories and pictures from our time "up there". The pictures are already up, and the blogs are on their way...
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Osh Bazaar
The lively Jayma Bazar in Osh, Kyrgyzstan is supposed to be one of Central Asia's most diverse. Situated at near the borders of three countries (Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan) along the historic Silk Road, has been a central trading area for people of all three nationalities for centuries.
The produce section was full of colorful and healthy-looking vegetables and fruits, all displayed in either large plastic bowls or woven grain sacks with the tops rolled down. The spices were fragrants and huge varieties were for sale in smaller woven bags, all in seed form to be mixed and then crushed into powder. We bought a delicious smelling mix, which the man wrapped up for us expertly in newspaper so that none could spill out. Steaming warm bread was for sale in one area, displayed on bright red table cloths, which mobile hawkers sold the same out of steel carts. Outside a small teahouse, men churned out samsas from a deep clay oven and outside others, cooks fanned the long barbeques where shasslick is grilled atop coals. In the meat section, all types of cuts and meats were hanging on display and the fattiest cuts were most expensive. Among the more exotic items on sale were sheep and cow heads and horse feet! In one area, heaps of nuts and dried fruit were for sale out of plastic-lined cardboard boxes and nearby were heaps of cookies, all for sale by weight.
The usual array of designer jeans, sweaters and footwear were displayed aisle after aisle beneath colorful tarps and the electroics and housewards sections ere stocked with cheap chinese goods - radios, flashlights, plastic buckets, large thermoses, and teapots.
We grazed on our favorite local snacks - fried dough stuffed with potato and samsas- and tried some things that we'd never seen before.
Since we need to be self-sufficient on our bikes and carry all of our own food, we get to do more than just browse through these exciting bazaars. It usually takes us several hours to track down everything on our shopping list, but we always enjoy it. It's wonderful to buy things straight from the producer and a great chance to interact with locals in each town we pass through.
Christine
The produce section was full of colorful and healthy-looking vegetables and fruits, all displayed in either large plastic bowls or woven grain sacks with the tops rolled down. The spices were fragrants and huge varieties were for sale in smaller woven bags, all in seed form to be mixed and then crushed into powder. We bought a delicious smelling mix, which the man wrapped up for us expertly in newspaper so that none could spill out. Steaming warm bread was for sale in one area, displayed on bright red table cloths, which mobile hawkers sold the same out of steel carts. Outside a small teahouse, men churned out samsas from a deep clay oven and outside others, cooks fanned the long barbeques where shasslick is grilled atop coals. In the meat section, all types of cuts and meats were hanging on display and the fattiest cuts were most expensive. Among the more exotic items on sale were sheep and cow heads and horse feet! In one area, heaps of nuts and dried fruit were for sale out of plastic-lined cardboard boxes and nearby were heaps of cookies, all for sale by weight.
The usual array of designer jeans, sweaters and footwear were displayed aisle after aisle beneath colorful tarps and the electroics and housewards sections ere stocked with cheap chinese goods - radios, flashlights, plastic buckets, large thermoses, and teapots.
We grazed on our favorite local snacks - fried dough stuffed with potato and samsas- and tried some things that we'd never seen before.
Since we need to be self-sufficient on our bikes and carry all of our own food, we get to do more than just browse through these exciting bazaars. It usually takes us several hours to track down everything on our shopping list, but we always enjoy it. It's wonderful to buy things straight from the producer and a great chance to interact with locals in each town we pass through.
Christine
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
A day in the stomach of a cycle tourist in Kyrgyzstan
Breakfast: Oatmeal with fresh or dried fruit (we change it up), cream and sugar; and tea. When we're in hostels, we sometimes treat ourselves to eggs, friend sausage and bread.
Lunch: Bread (the breads here are absolutely wonderful when you can get them fresh. Unfortunately, when we're a few days between towns, we end up eating a lot of stale stuff. But even stale bread tastes alright with nutella (we've polished of 1.5kg of it so far!), honey and jam (or favorites are apricot and barberry). We also eat some sausage and cheese for the protein more than the taste (we miss canadian cheese!!).
Dinner: We've done a much better job at keeping some variety in our diets here than we did on our last trip. It's different every time, but some typical ingredients include: potatoes, carrots, soup mixes, rice, bulgar wheat, some other grain we can't identify but really enjoy, pasta (but the only sauce is really more like ketchup than tomato sauce) and fried sausage. Sausage is the only protein that we've found here that we can actually carry on our bikes. One night we tried canned beef, or so we thought but there wasn't actually any beef in it at all, just barley and a picture of a cow on the label...another night we tried canned chicken, but we suspect that it may not have been intended for human consumption :-S
Snacks: There are endless possibilities for snacks in the local markets - a hundred varieties of cookies, many with fruit fillings and all delicious, lots of dried fruits (apricots, kiwis, raisins, pineapples, etc.) and nuts. We also stocked up on banana-chocolate granola bars that we found in Bishkek :) In cities, we love to treat ourselves to samsas (like samosas), piroshki (deepfried dough filled with potatoes, a personal favorite) and russian ice cream (mmmm! good!).
Local foods: Lots of mouth-watering things to look forward to in the towns and cities... shasslik are kebabs and though fatty mutton ones are most popular, we opt for the cheaper lean beef (you can also get horse, donkey or chicken)... plov is rice pilaf strings of carrot or squash and hunks of mutton (my personal favorite).... lagman is thick noodles, mutton and peppers in a slightly spicy soup.
Food is such an exciting part of travelling and one of the great things about travelling by bike is that you can indulge even more!!
Christine
Lunch: Bread (the breads here are absolutely wonderful when you can get them fresh. Unfortunately, when we're a few days between towns, we end up eating a lot of stale stuff. But even stale bread tastes alright with nutella (we've polished of 1.5kg of it so far!), honey and jam (or favorites are apricot and barberry). We also eat some sausage and cheese for the protein more than the taste (we miss canadian cheese!!).
Dinner: We've done a much better job at keeping some variety in our diets here than we did on our last trip. It's different every time, but some typical ingredients include: potatoes, carrots, soup mixes, rice, bulgar wheat, some other grain we can't identify but really enjoy, pasta (but the only sauce is really more like ketchup than tomato sauce) and fried sausage. Sausage is the only protein that we've found here that we can actually carry on our bikes. One night we tried canned beef, or so we thought but there wasn't actually any beef in it at all, just barley and a picture of a cow on the label...another night we tried canned chicken, but we suspect that it may not have been intended for human consumption :-S
Snacks: There are endless possibilities for snacks in the local markets - a hundred varieties of cookies, many with fruit fillings and all delicious, lots of dried fruits (apricots, kiwis, raisins, pineapples, etc.) and nuts. We also stocked up on banana-chocolate granola bars that we found in Bishkek :) In cities, we love to treat ourselves to samsas (like samosas), piroshki (deepfried dough filled with potatoes, a personal favorite) and russian ice cream (mmmm! good!).
Local foods: Lots of mouth-watering things to look forward to in the towns and cities... shasslik are kebabs and though fatty mutton ones are most popular, we opt for the cheaper lean beef (you can also get horse, donkey or chicken)... plov is rice pilaf strings of carrot or squash and hunks of mutton (my personal favorite).... lagman is thick noodles, mutton and peppers in a slightly spicy soup.
Food is such an exciting part of travelling and one of the great things about travelling by bike is that you can indulge even more!!
Christine
When life gives you lemons....Make your own gaddamm mittens!
In a place where people LOVE to warn you about the cold, it's incredibly difficult to find warm clothes! So we had to get creative and losing 1/2 of my stuff actually turned into an excuse to have some fun...
To market, to market... first on the list was something water and wind-proof to replace my gore-tex. A very friendly local who was excited to practice his English and French led us on a whirlwind tour of the market, touch-testing jackets (mostly adidas track suits) to see if they might work. No go. I wasn't in any position to be picky about fashion, but I absolutely have to have something waterproof. His next idea was a wonderful one: the section of the market where they sell military clothing. There amid the black boots and camoflage overcoats (Sorry Tavis, nothing waterproof in camo or I would have done it just for you!) was the perfect rain jacket. Made for someone my height (it reached right down to my toes) and twice my girth, there was enough rubber there to have my rain jacket and use the rest to make waterproof overmitts and rain chaps for my legs!
Strangely, there were no mittens to be found and I needed some extra warmth for my hands. Hmmm... Also needing a warm upper layer I opted for a very fuzzy lime green pyjama set - the top would at least partially replace my down jacket and our heads were just spinning with possibilities for how to use the bottoms (Jodie couldn't resist how fuzzy they were and opted for her own hot pink set).
A quick stop at the thread-and-scissor man and we were on our way back to our guesthouse. Soon pink and green fuzz was flying everywhere and our fingers were busily stitching up new mittens, neck warmers, leg warmers and slippers! I even lopped the tops off my moccasins to use the leather as another layer for my hands.
For less than $100, I'm completely decked out with warm stuff and ready to take on the Pamir mountains! And I even learned a bit of a lesson from all of this.... as an outdoorsy type at home, I've gotten to be quite a snob about having the 'right' clothing for the activity that I'm doing. Here I've managed to piece together enough to keep me warm from basic materials that I could find anywhere in the world. What I originally feared might be a trip-ending tragedy has just turned into yet another fun part of the adventure!
Christine
To market, to market... first on the list was something water and wind-proof to replace my gore-tex. A very friendly local who was excited to practice his English and French led us on a whirlwind tour of the market, touch-testing jackets (mostly adidas track suits) to see if they might work. No go. I wasn't in any position to be picky about fashion, but I absolutely have to have something waterproof. His next idea was a wonderful one: the section of the market where they sell military clothing. There amid the black boots and camoflage overcoats (Sorry Tavis, nothing waterproof in camo or I would have done it just for you!) was the perfect rain jacket. Made for someone my height (it reached right down to my toes) and twice my girth, there was enough rubber there to have my rain jacket and use the rest to make waterproof overmitts and rain chaps for my legs!
Strangely, there were no mittens to be found and I needed some extra warmth for my hands. Hmmm... Also needing a warm upper layer I opted for a very fuzzy lime green pyjama set - the top would at least partially replace my down jacket and our heads were just spinning with possibilities for how to use the bottoms (Jodie couldn't resist how fuzzy they were and opted for her own hot pink set).
A quick stop at the thread-and-scissor man and we were on our way back to our guesthouse. Soon pink and green fuzz was flying everywhere and our fingers were busily stitching up new mittens, neck warmers, leg warmers and slippers! I even lopped the tops off my moccasins to use the leather as another layer for my hands.
For less than $100, I'm completely decked out with warm stuff and ready to take on the Pamir mountains! And I even learned a bit of a lesson from all of this.... as an outdoorsy type at home, I've gotten to be quite a snob about having the 'right' clothing for the activity that I'm doing. Here I've managed to piece together enough to keep me warm from basic materials that I could find anywhere in the world. What I originally feared might be a trip-ending tragedy has just turned into yet another fun part of the adventure!
Christine
Monday, October 20, 2008
The Long Way Around
We arrived in Kazarman on a beautiful sunny afternoon after riding through some spectacular countryside - rolling hills where cows and sheep grazed against the backdrop of tall snow-capped mountains and through steep twisty canyons, then cruising along the Naryn River, past homes where women wash clothing and carpets outside, children play in the yard and herders drive their livestock along the roadsides. It was a wonderful day on the bikes, made even more enjoyable by the fact that we looked forward to a homestay in Kazarman, sleeping in a bed and enjoying a warm-water wash.
Our homestay in Kazarman was everything we'd hoped for. While not as special as the night we were invited to stay as guests in Emil's home (as this was a paid for service), we still got to wash up and enjoy the comfort of soft beds and heavy quilts and a breakfast of bread, jam, cream of wheat and tea.
The woman who owned the home where we stayed warned us that the pass that we hoped to cross to Jalalabad had been closed a couple days before because of snow. In the fall, tractors clear the road after the first few snowfalls until too much piles up and they can no longer get through, then the pass closes for the winter. When we woke up the next morning to stormy weather (rain in the valley, but snow on the pass), we knew there was no sense riding that way and so we took a real rest day and spent the afternoon knitting and playing cards. The next morning, we asked about taking a taxi over the pass to Jalalabad. It sounded hopeful for a while, but in the end, the drivers decided that the road was most likely closed (though they would happily take us for a look for $50). Not wanted to waste more time or money that necessary, we decided to bite the bullet and take the long way around....
Despite being only 200km from Jalalabad, we had to drive 1250km to get there! We figure that's sort of like driving to Grande Prairie via Prince George and Jasper. It was a hectic and expensive couple days but we made it in one piece and once again have reaffirmed why we prefer to bike that drive in developing countries (I think my knuckles are still white!).
Unfortunately, not all our our gear made it with us. In keeping with the what-can-go-wrong-will theme of this trip, somehow in the mad rush of unloading in Jalalabad, one of my bags didn't make it out of the taxi (I'm saying it all generally because I honestly don't know if it was intentional or not). Anyway, in this bag was about $700 of outdoor gear including my down jacket and goretex and our water purifyer. Ouch. Most of it (aside from some sentimental items) will be replacable here in Osh before we head into Tajikistan and the Pamir Mountains. Although it's a tough one to swallow, the show will go on!
Christine
Our homestay in Kazarman was everything we'd hoped for. While not as special as the night we were invited to stay as guests in Emil's home (as this was a paid for service), we still got to wash up and enjoy the comfort of soft beds and heavy quilts and a breakfast of bread, jam, cream of wheat and tea.
The woman who owned the home where we stayed warned us that the pass that we hoped to cross to Jalalabad had been closed a couple days before because of snow. In the fall, tractors clear the road after the first few snowfalls until too much piles up and they can no longer get through, then the pass closes for the winter. When we woke up the next morning to stormy weather (rain in the valley, but snow on the pass), we knew there was no sense riding that way and so we took a real rest day and spent the afternoon knitting and playing cards. The next morning, we asked about taking a taxi over the pass to Jalalabad. It sounded hopeful for a while, but in the end, the drivers decided that the road was most likely closed (though they would happily take us for a look for $50). Not wanted to waste more time or money that necessary, we decided to bite the bullet and take the long way around....
Despite being only 200km from Jalalabad, we had to drive 1250km to get there! We figure that's sort of like driving to Grande Prairie via Prince George and Jasper. It was a hectic and expensive couple days but we made it in one piece and once again have reaffirmed why we prefer to bike that drive in developing countries (I think my knuckles are still white!).
Unfortunately, not all our our gear made it with us. In keeping with the what-can-go-wrong-will theme of this trip, somehow in the mad rush of unloading in Jalalabad, one of my bags didn't make it out of the taxi (I'm saying it all generally because I honestly don't know if it was intentional or not). Anyway, in this bag was about $700 of outdoor gear including my down jacket and goretex and our water purifyer. Ouch. Most of it (aside from some sentimental items) will be replacable here in Osh before we head into Tajikistan and the Pamir Mountains. Although it's a tough one to swallow, the show will go on!
Christine
Thursday, October 16, 2008
On a somber note
This isn't meant to worry anyone, but we have faced yet another challenge that has left us thinking of everyone at home. Riding out of Naryn we witnessed a car accident. We were the first people on the scene and did first aid. Drinking and no seatbelts were both factors that seemed to make a small incident turn into something terrible. We just want to ask that everyone please be careful and make safe decisions on the road. We are thinking of you all. Big hugs.
Jodie and Christine
Jodie and Christine
Friday, October 10, 2008
Jodie and Christine VS. Naryn
And we thought that days off were for relaxing! It wasn't to be in Naryn, though...
Arriving in the city, having frozen our butts off and not washed properly in a week(our nightly 'showers' use 2 face wipes each!), we decided to splurge on a 'Lux' room at the Ala-Too hotel with our own toilet and hot water shower! Looking forward to washing, but even more to eating and enjoying a cold beer, we opted to hit up a restaurant first.
I should try to explain here how much food means to us when we've got 'biker' appetites. It occupies much of our thoughts each day and we're always looking forward to the next meal. One night last week, I had 2 dreams: in one, a giant roast beef and cheese sandwhich was just flying around taunting me and in another, Jodie and I were trying to decide which breakfast buffet to hit up because there were so many and they all looked so delicious. But in Central Asia, that is the stuff of dreams and dreams only. In South America, we could count on a hamburger and fries in every city, and even McDonalds chicken nuggets now and again...but here we ride into town salivating at the thought of burgers and pizza and are handed a menu in kyrgyz or russian (we can't even tell the difference, which makes decoding quite difficult!) that we stare at until something familiar pops out at us. And familiar means something that we've tried here before, not something familiar from home! The food's not bad at all, but it's just not what we crave after a week or more of one-pot wonders on the camp stove.
Dinner and a few beers later, we weren't overly concerned when we got home and discovered that there was no water at all in our room - we were content to sleep and clean up in the morning. When there was still no water in the morning (we couldn't even flush the toilet), we started to get concerned. The water will be on by 1:00, they said and so we donned bandanas to hide our greasy hair and went into town.
Back in the afternoon, there was still no water. I tried to communicate that I wanted a bucket so that I could go to an outside tap and at least get water to flush the toilet. Although the woman I was asking had a bucket in her hand, she looked at my like I was nuts to think I could take it. And so we headed to a store to buy our own bucket! By the time we were back, there was water and again we got excited about the prospect of a hot shower. How naive!
Of course the hot water heater doesn't actually work. Well, it feels hot, but no water comes out when you turn the hot tap on. So off in search of help. Three women and one repair-man later, all we get is this sign-language message: the woman pointed at the water heater and said, "ka-pow!". Ok, we get it. But we paid double the regular price just so we could have a shower. Smelly and rather grumpy, we tried to communicate that we wanted some money back. But of course, we have to wait to talk to the director. On October 30. Ok, ok, tomorrow. At 1:00. Nope, at 5.
Incredibly the director fixed the hot water (a bit to our disappointment since we'd already heated water in the kettle to wash with and would have preferred some money back...)
And then the banking. We tried all 4 of our cards in the towns only ATM and no deal. So off to a bank with a huge exchange rate sign on the door. Will you chnage dollars? No. To two more banks...Will you exchange dollars or give us a Visa or Mastercard advance? No. Back to bank #1. Oh, no, we don't take MC, only Visa. Ok, we've got a Visa. Oh, we can't to Visas until Monday. Ok, will you change dollars? Yes, ok (yep, the same ones that said no 2 hours ago!). Baffling, but we've got enough money to make it to Osh.
And so it went on our days 'off' in Naryn. All part of the experience I guess but it sure does make us miss the comforts of home!!
Christine
Arriving in the city, having frozen our butts off and not washed properly in a week(our nightly 'showers' use 2 face wipes each!), we decided to splurge on a 'Lux' room at the Ala-Too hotel with our own toilet and hot water shower! Looking forward to washing, but even more to eating and enjoying a cold beer, we opted to hit up a restaurant first.
I should try to explain here how much food means to us when we've got 'biker' appetites. It occupies much of our thoughts each day and we're always looking forward to the next meal. One night last week, I had 2 dreams: in one, a giant roast beef and cheese sandwhich was just flying around taunting me and in another, Jodie and I were trying to decide which breakfast buffet to hit up because there were so many and they all looked so delicious. But in Central Asia, that is the stuff of dreams and dreams only. In South America, we could count on a hamburger and fries in every city, and even McDonalds chicken nuggets now and again...but here we ride into town salivating at the thought of burgers and pizza and are handed a menu in kyrgyz or russian (we can't even tell the difference, which makes decoding quite difficult!) that we stare at until something familiar pops out at us. And familiar means something that we've tried here before, not something familiar from home! The food's not bad at all, but it's just not what we crave after a week or more of one-pot wonders on the camp stove.
Dinner and a few beers later, we weren't overly concerned when we got home and discovered that there was no water at all in our room - we were content to sleep and clean up in the morning. When there was still no water in the morning (we couldn't even flush the toilet), we started to get concerned. The water will be on by 1:00, they said and so we donned bandanas to hide our greasy hair and went into town.
Back in the afternoon, there was still no water. I tried to communicate that I wanted a bucket so that I could go to an outside tap and at least get water to flush the toilet. Although the woman I was asking had a bucket in her hand, she looked at my like I was nuts to think I could take it. And so we headed to a store to buy our own bucket! By the time we were back, there was water and again we got excited about the prospect of a hot shower. How naive!
Of course the hot water heater doesn't actually work. Well, it feels hot, but no water comes out when you turn the hot tap on. So off in search of help. Three women and one repair-man later, all we get is this sign-language message: the woman pointed at the water heater and said, "ka-pow!". Ok, we get it. But we paid double the regular price just so we could have a shower. Smelly and rather grumpy, we tried to communicate that we wanted some money back. But of course, we have to wait to talk to the director. On October 30. Ok, ok, tomorrow. At 1:00. Nope, at 5.
Incredibly the director fixed the hot water (a bit to our disappointment since we'd already heated water in the kettle to wash with and would have preferred some money back...)
And then the banking. We tried all 4 of our cards in the towns only ATM and no deal. So off to a bank with a huge exchange rate sign on the door. Will you chnage dollars? No. To two more banks...Will you exchange dollars or give us a Visa or Mastercard advance? No. Back to bank #1. Oh, no, we don't take MC, only Visa. Ok, we've got a Visa. Oh, we can't to Visas until Monday. Ok, will you change dollars? Yes, ok (yep, the same ones that said no 2 hours ago!). Baffling, but we've got enough money to make it to Osh.
And so it went on our days 'off' in Naryn. All part of the experience I guess but it sure does make us miss the comforts of home!!
Christine
Downhill, Snow and... Bicycles?!?!?
The last couple hours of pushing up and over the pass were snow covered and beautiful. However, as soon as we got over the pass and down to our campsite (at 3500m) we thought that we'd escaped the snow and were back to dirt roads. We had our dinner and went to bed - only to wake up to a fresh blanket of snow covering everything! Of course when I first crawled out of the tent I squeeled with excitement - as I do every year when I wake up to the first snowfall. The morning was sunny and beautiful but soon dissappeared and more of the white stuff started to fly... for the next three hours.
In the winter I live for snow and mountains, but because I love sliding down them on a snowboard. Sliding down on a bicycle is another story completely... it turned out to be a lot of good fun that was not without a couple of good crashes. Biking is very similar to driving a car down a really icy road,you can use your brakes but only until you feel a bit of a slide coming on and then you just have to correct it. Most times we came out lucky but there were a few that seemed like BOB had already commited to the fall and there was nothing you could do but go for the tuck and roll.
We loved the novelty of the snow ride, but were certianly ready for the freedom of dry roads when we hit them. The next couple of mornings (at -10C) we were reminded of the wet snow when our cables were frozen solid and we were unable to shift gears.
Maybe I should do my best to save the snow for the snowboard?
On second thought, I did just read a great quote, "The only difference between an ordeal and an adventure is the attitude." - bring on the adventure!
-Jodie
In the winter I live for snow and mountains, but because I love sliding down them on a snowboard. Sliding down on a bicycle is another story completely... it turned out to be a lot of good fun that was not without a couple of good crashes. Biking is very similar to driving a car down a really icy road,you can use your brakes but only until you feel a bit of a slide coming on and then you just have to correct it. Most times we came out lucky but there were a few that seemed like BOB had already commited to the fall and there was nothing you could do but go for the tuck and roll.
We loved the novelty of the snow ride, but were certianly ready for the freedom of dry roads when we hit them. The next couple of mornings (at -10C) we were reminded of the wet snow when our cables were frozen solid and we were unable to shift gears.
Maybe I should do my best to save the snow for the snowboard?
On second thought, I did just read a great quote, "The only difference between an ordeal and an adventure is the attitude." - bring on the adventure!
-Jodie
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Up
Riding up over the 3900m pass between Tosor and Archali was definitely the most physically demanding thing that I've ever done and the hardest I've had to push myself to 'just keep going'. All day the road zig zagged up and up and up, much of the way too steep or rough to ride and so we pushed. To break down the 24 kms that we rode that day, approximately 4 of them were ridden downhill at the very end of the day, another 4 were ridden uphill where the road allowed and the remaining 16 were pushed... and pulled, and heaved and ho'd. On the steepest and roughest sections, the process was to take one step forward, find solid footing, then pull your bike up a few feet, squeeze the brakes hard so that it didn't roll backwards and repeat. This is how we inched forward toward the top of the pass, often moving less than 2kph!
As we rose higher and higher, it was impossible to see where the road would go next and so we were constantly guessing. The lesson for the day: if your guess "doesn't look so bad," you're wrong!
Two vehicles passed us going up over the pass and it absolutely baffles me how they made it, but seeing them gave me hope. "If a truck can do it, then a bike can do it!" I have to admit, though that there were times today that I was questionning that and wondering just how long I could keep going. My legs, arms and back were all cramping from the exertion and my heart was pounding because of the altitude.
The weather was constantly changing and with it my outlook. When the wind was scouring us with dry snow and the peaks weren't visible, I had to fight to stay optimistic about making it to the top but when the sky cleared to reveal the 5000m snowy peaks that surrounded us, my mood and energy soared and I knew we could do it.
When we finally did top out at 3900m, we were both all smiles. What an amazing sense of accomplishment! We shouted out loud and took some victory pictures and a few minutes to catch our breath. We didn't spend long up there, though - it was getting close to sun-down and we had to descend lower than the snow to camp.
Christine
As we rose higher and higher, it was impossible to see where the road would go next and so we were constantly guessing. The lesson for the day: if your guess "doesn't look so bad," you're wrong!
Two vehicles passed us going up over the pass and it absolutely baffles me how they made it, but seeing them gave me hope. "If a truck can do it, then a bike can do it!" I have to admit, though that there were times today that I was questionning that and wondering just how long I could keep going. My legs, arms and back were all cramping from the exertion and my heart was pounding because of the altitude.
The weather was constantly changing and with it my outlook. When the wind was scouring us with dry snow and the peaks weren't visible, I had to fight to stay optimistic about making it to the top but when the sky cleared to reveal the 5000m snowy peaks that surrounded us, my mood and energy soared and I knew we could do it.
When we finally did top out at 3900m, we were both all smiles. What an amazing sense of accomplishment! We shouted out loud and took some victory pictures and a few minutes to catch our breath. We didn't spend long up there, though - it was getting close to sun-down and we had to descend lower than the snow to camp.
Christine
Experience cycle touring at home!
With this simple cycle touring simulation you, too can experience cycle touring - without even leaving town (We'll make it a downhill day so you don't even have to work too hard)! Here's how:
Soak your shoes in water and freeze them overnight. When you wake up, put them on and wear them until they thaw. If it's zero or colder, have your breakfast (oatmeal and tea) outside. If it's warmer, sit in your car with the AC cranked.
Get out a puzzle, duct tape over the picture on the box and start to piece it together. Every 1/2 hour, take it apart, put it back in the box and shake it up (this is like trying to find your way when your map isn't accurate). If you want help with the puzzle, you may only ask someone who doesn't speak your language and may or may not have any idea of what the picture on the box looks like.
Eat stale bread, cold hot dogs and nutella for lunch...eat enough that you feel quite full. If the fair is in town, go get on the zipper. If not, do 20 jumping jacks, slide down a flight of stairs on your butt and then spin around with your head down on a baseball bat 10 times. Try not to barf.
Work on the puzzle some more.
Oh, and don't foget to keep a collection of the most beautiful picture postcards you can find and look at the often throughout the day :)
See, now don't you understand why we love cycle touring so much?!?!
Soak your shoes in water and freeze them overnight. When you wake up, put them on and wear them until they thaw. If it's zero or colder, have your breakfast (oatmeal and tea) outside. If it's warmer, sit in your car with the AC cranked.
Get out a puzzle, duct tape over the picture on the box and start to piece it together. Every 1/2 hour, take it apart, put it back in the box and shake it up (this is like trying to find your way when your map isn't accurate). If you want help with the puzzle, you may only ask someone who doesn't speak your language and may or may not have any idea of what the picture on the box looks like.
Eat stale bread, cold hot dogs and nutella for lunch...eat enough that you feel quite full. If the fair is in town, go get on the zipper. If not, do 20 jumping jacks, slide down a flight of stairs on your butt and then spin around with your head down on a baseball bat 10 times. Try not to barf.
Work on the puzzle some more.
Oh, and don't foget to keep a collection of the most beautiful picture postcards you can find and look at the often throughout the day :)
See, now don't you understand why we love cycle touring so much?!?!
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Pictures
We're having a terrible time tyring to upload pictures here in Karakol so there are only a few...hopefully we'll have a lot more for you from Naryn, where we plan to arrive on October 11th.
Chris & Jodie
Chris & Jodie
Canadian Moma, Kyrgyz Moma!
Our first night away from Bishkek we were both very tired and really ready to find somewhere to camp for the night. We decided to look around the houses in Kemin and hopefully find a safe spot to set up out tent.
The first two attempts to ask about our tent failed miserably - maybe they didn't understand, maybe they just thought that there was no where for us to camp, we weren't really sure... so we headed back towards the highway. A man on the side of the road said 'Hello' - we immediately jumped on this opprotuntity, asking and half signing to find out where we could camp. "No No. Come to my family house, my mother, my father, my grandmother, my grandfather all there!"
Once we were introduced, we were given soap and water to wash our hands and were shooed into the kitchen where his mother began madly preparing food. Emil got his sisters notes out from an English course she had taken and we flipped through the pages having great conversations! Emil's family didn't speak english, but between him and his friend and a lot of sign language we were able to communicate and have fun.
The family seems quite well off. The mother is a doctor and is running for 'parliment' in the area. The grandparents used to be teachers and his sister is working in Moscow in business (she speaks 5 languages!). Emil works for the government in Bishkek and is just home for the weekends.
I thought my mom was bad for making way too much food and for making people eat much more than their fill - she's got nothin on these guys!!! Tomato salad, soup, bread, jam, cookies, tea, chocolate, MORE, MORE MORE! You would barely take a break and they would be filling your cup or placing more food in front of you! It was all very good and much of it was homegrown. The father actually made the soup and seems to be the one at home looking after the animals and all of the gardening. It was very cute sitting around the dinner table having the parents trying to speak english; pointing at different things around the table and repeating after us, always laughing...
We were not allowed to help clean up but were sent outside for a tour of the place with Emil and his friend. They live on a small property and it is simple but provides a lot. They have a small herd of sheep, chickens, apple trees, apricot trees, strawberries, potatoes, onions, tomatos, and pears. They have just an outhouse, and then a bathhouse/sauna that is seperate from the house. The kitchen and eating area is also seperate from the house. Our bikes were tucked away for the night and locked in a another little shed. Oh, and mom, there are beautiful flowers planted everywhere!
They have a big stove / fireplace that they use to hear water and to cure their sheep in. They were so kind as to start the fire and give us plenty of hot water for a 'shower.' It felt SO good - it was the first warm wash since Canada! It was quite the bonding experience, Christine and I washing in this little room with dippers and pots of hot water. She couldn't even stand up in there!
Tired and ready for bed, we went into the house and set up our beds in the guest room. Emil and his grandmother came in for some more visiting. She is so cute - ooing about where we are going and what we are doing. Wanting to chat, she kept inviting us back again (translated through Emil), and then giggled as she taught us how to count in Kyrgyz.
We also met the grandfather earlier. He is not as mobile as the grandmother so he stays in a room and they tend to him. It is great to see how well both of them are looked after by the family instead of just being stuffed in a home and forgotten.
Emil is very smart and so keen to improve his english that he got out his notebook and got us to translate as he wrote down words that he wanted to remember. He also brought out his photoalbum to show us pictures of his friends and family.
Ok, now it must be time for bed - NO, back to the kitchen!! The mom (our Kyrgyz moma as she called herself laughing) had cleaned up from dinner and started preparing Kyrgyzstans' national food 'Mante' for a snack. Mante are dumplings with a spicy meat filling and are of course served with more tea! We ate what was on our plates and when we declined more, it was ONE MORE! We were so full! These normally do not sit well with me and tonight was no exception. So it was two Pepto Bismo pills, a few trips to the outhouse :) , more visiting and at last sleep.
What a wonderful cultural experiance! Exhausting, but wow, they were such incredible hosts! It is hard to describe how it feels to be taken into a warm home when you are so far away from anything familiar and be treated like family....
-Jodie
The first two attempts to ask about our tent failed miserably - maybe they didn't understand, maybe they just thought that there was no where for us to camp, we weren't really sure... so we headed back towards the highway. A man on the side of the road said 'Hello' - we immediately jumped on this opprotuntity, asking and half signing to find out where we could camp. "No No. Come to my family house, my mother, my father, my grandmother, my grandfather all there!"
Once we were introduced, we were given soap and water to wash our hands and were shooed into the kitchen where his mother began madly preparing food. Emil got his sisters notes out from an English course she had taken and we flipped through the pages having great conversations! Emil's family didn't speak english, but between him and his friend and a lot of sign language we were able to communicate and have fun.
The family seems quite well off. The mother is a doctor and is running for 'parliment' in the area. The grandparents used to be teachers and his sister is working in Moscow in business (she speaks 5 languages!). Emil works for the government in Bishkek and is just home for the weekends.
I thought my mom was bad for making way too much food and for making people eat much more than their fill - she's got nothin on these guys!!! Tomato salad, soup, bread, jam, cookies, tea, chocolate, MORE, MORE MORE! You would barely take a break and they would be filling your cup or placing more food in front of you! It was all very good and much of it was homegrown. The father actually made the soup and seems to be the one at home looking after the animals and all of the gardening. It was very cute sitting around the dinner table having the parents trying to speak english; pointing at different things around the table and repeating after us, always laughing...
We were not allowed to help clean up but were sent outside for a tour of the place with Emil and his friend. They live on a small property and it is simple but provides a lot. They have a small herd of sheep, chickens, apple trees, apricot trees, strawberries, potatoes, onions, tomatos, and pears. They have just an outhouse, and then a bathhouse/sauna that is seperate from the house. The kitchen and eating area is also seperate from the house. Our bikes were tucked away for the night and locked in a another little shed. Oh, and mom, there are beautiful flowers planted everywhere!
They have a big stove / fireplace that they use to hear water and to cure their sheep in. They were so kind as to start the fire and give us plenty of hot water for a 'shower.' It felt SO good - it was the first warm wash since Canada! It was quite the bonding experience, Christine and I washing in this little room with dippers and pots of hot water. She couldn't even stand up in there!
Tired and ready for bed, we went into the house and set up our beds in the guest room. Emil and his grandmother came in for some more visiting. She is so cute - ooing about where we are going and what we are doing. Wanting to chat, she kept inviting us back again (translated through Emil), and then giggled as she taught us how to count in Kyrgyz.
We also met the grandfather earlier. He is not as mobile as the grandmother so he stays in a room and they tend to him. It is great to see how well both of them are looked after by the family instead of just being stuffed in a home and forgotten.
Emil is very smart and so keen to improve his english that he got out his notebook and got us to translate as he wrote down words that he wanted to remember. He also brought out his photoalbum to show us pictures of his friends and family.
Ok, now it must be time for bed - NO, back to the kitchen!! The mom (our Kyrgyz moma as she called herself laughing) had cleaned up from dinner and started preparing Kyrgyzstans' national food 'Mante' for a snack. Mante are dumplings with a spicy meat filling and are of course served with more tea! We ate what was on our plates and when we declined more, it was ONE MORE! We were so full! These normally do not sit well with me and tonight was no exception. So it was two Pepto Bismo pills, a few trips to the outhouse :) , more visiting and at last sleep.
What a wonderful cultural experiance! Exhausting, but wow, they were such incredible hosts! It is hard to describe how it feels to be taken into a warm home when you are so far away from anything familiar and be treated like family....
-Jodie
"Christina, I LavYou"
Words you don't care to hear outside your tent door at midnight...
We thought we had chosen a nice hidden campsite, far from the highway and a ways between villages. It turned out that the nice little foot path that we followed to find our little spot was a well-travelled route between villages and so several people passed by as we sat outside our tent and had dinner. Everyone was all smiles, though and gave us the thumbs up when we gestured as if to ask if it were ok that we camp there.
While we ate, a man came to join us for a few minutes and although he seemed strange (simple, shall we say...), he was nice enough and asked our names and where we were from. And then he went on his way...
Or so we thought. As we settled into our sleeping bags for the night and turned off our headlamps, we heard footsteps approach and then stop right outside the tent. Our 'friend' was back. We heard, "Christina, Jodie" and so unzipped our tent to tell him that we were sleeping and didn't want to visit. He pretty much tried to crawl right in and we had to more or less shoo him away so that we could rest.
Or so we thought. An hour later, he was back, this time standing right outside my tent door saying over and over, "Christina, I lav you!" I'm pretty sure these were the only english words he knew and I'm sure that he would have been coo-ing Jodie's name too if only Russian speakers didn't have such a hard time remembering it!
We frantically flipped through our phrasebook, looking for the words "stop" and "go away" and repeated them over and over to him (he was being pretty persistent). We knew that this man was harmless and just didn't understand that we wanted our privacy and in the daylight, such an encounter wouldn't have been a big deal at all. But oh how things change when the lights are out... When he finally left, we both laid wide awake and alert, trying to disern between noises in the wind and human noise.
Finally, we both had to pee and so opened the tent...and there he was, perched up on a small hill looking down at us. "Christina, I lav you". I'll be forever grateful to Jodie for being the brave one that night, standing up outside in her down jacket (extra intimidation) and yelling at him to "go home".
At last he finally did and after an hour or so more of straining our ears against the flapping of the tent and a final look outside to see that we were alone, we fell asleep.
It was an uncomfortable night and a good example of the different levels of privacy that we expect at home and that we get when we're travelling. From now on, though, I prefer to meet my crazy people during the day :)
We thought we had chosen a nice hidden campsite, far from the highway and a ways between villages. It turned out that the nice little foot path that we followed to find our little spot was a well-travelled route between villages and so several people passed by as we sat outside our tent and had dinner. Everyone was all smiles, though and gave us the thumbs up when we gestured as if to ask if it were ok that we camp there.
While we ate, a man came to join us for a few minutes and although he seemed strange (simple, shall we say...), he was nice enough and asked our names and where we were from. And then he went on his way...
Or so we thought. As we settled into our sleeping bags for the night and turned off our headlamps, we heard footsteps approach and then stop right outside the tent. Our 'friend' was back. We heard, "Christina, Jodie" and so unzipped our tent to tell him that we were sleeping and didn't want to visit. He pretty much tried to crawl right in and we had to more or less shoo him away so that we could rest.
Or so we thought. An hour later, he was back, this time standing right outside my tent door saying over and over, "Christina, I lav you!" I'm pretty sure these were the only english words he knew and I'm sure that he would have been coo-ing Jodie's name too if only Russian speakers didn't have such a hard time remembering it!
We frantically flipped through our phrasebook, looking for the words "stop" and "go away" and repeated them over and over to him (he was being pretty persistent). We knew that this man was harmless and just didn't understand that we wanted our privacy and in the daylight, such an encounter wouldn't have been a big deal at all. But oh how things change when the lights are out... When he finally left, we both laid wide awake and alert, trying to disern between noises in the wind and human noise.
Finally, we both had to pee and so opened the tent...and there he was, perched up on a small hill looking down at us. "Christina, I lav you". I'll be forever grateful to Jodie for being the brave one that night, standing up outside in her down jacket (extra intimidation) and yelling at him to "go home".
At last he finally did and after an hour or so more of straining our ears against the flapping of the tent and a final look outside to see that we were alone, we fell asleep.
It was an uncomfortable night and a good example of the different levels of privacy that we expect at home and that we get when we're travelling. From now on, though, I prefer to meet my crazy people during the day :)
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Our personal security guards: Abdul Karim and Azamat Ali
It was nearing 5:00, two hours before dark and the time that we normally like to start looking for a place to camp for the night. We were on a long stretch between villages and saw what looked like a promising spot hidden in the trees on the shore of Issik Kul lake. As we scoped out our potential site from the highway, we were waved over by a Abdul Karim.
I'm going to be very honest here, even if I don't like to admit this about myself, but if we were to judge a book by it's cover, this would have been a man who made us want to turn and run. Decked oun in camouflage, dark skinned and with a sgraggly beard, he's just the kind of man that we are taught to fear in western media.... We warily followed him into the compound where he was the head security guard, each of us thinking the same thing: that we'd give him a chance, but that we would be assertive and leave if anything at all made us uncomfortable about the situation.
He lead us down to the lakeshore where there was a beautiful camping spot right on the beach. He told us that we were welcome to camp there and offered us a radio so that we could communicate with him and the other two security guards if we had any problems through the night. Then he disappeared and left us to set up camp. We enjoyed a great dinner while the sun set over Lake Issik Kul and just as we were finishing up, Abdul Karim came back with his fellow security guard Azamat Ali and his huge guard dog, Tarzan. Azamat Ali was very excited for us to take pictures of him and his dog on the lake-shore, which we promised to share by email.
We offered to share some food with them, but they declined since September is Ramadan and as muslims, they were not allowed to eat between 4am and 7pm for the month. We had a brief converstation about religion in our respective countries and Abdul-Karim told us that most security guards in Kyrgyzstan are muslim because they are know for their honesty and for not stealing or harming people. He explained that there were many different religions in Kyrgyzstan and that they all got along well with one another and was happy to hear that the same was true in Canada.
At 8:00pm, just as we were ready to retire to the tent for our nightly knitting and reading (such an exciting life on the bikes, I know!), the two of them were back, this time with a third security guard in tow. We pulled out our sleeping pads so there was sitting room for everyone. Abdul Karim had a loaf of bread and a jar of milk mixed with oil for dunking it in and we all shared it together, and then we shared a bar of chocolate with them, all the while talking about our trip and our country and asking them about theirs, with the help of our phrase book, our picture book and very limited english and kyrgyz. It was a great evening of sharing and we went to sleep that night feeling extremely secure under the watchful eye of our three personal security guards!
Christine
I'm going to be very honest here, even if I don't like to admit this about myself, but if we were to judge a book by it's cover, this would have been a man who made us want to turn and run. Decked oun in camouflage, dark skinned and with a sgraggly beard, he's just the kind of man that we are taught to fear in western media.... We warily followed him into the compound where he was the head security guard, each of us thinking the same thing: that we'd give him a chance, but that we would be assertive and leave if anything at all made us uncomfortable about the situation.
He lead us down to the lakeshore where there was a beautiful camping spot right on the beach. He told us that we were welcome to camp there and offered us a radio so that we could communicate with him and the other two security guards if we had any problems through the night. Then he disappeared and left us to set up camp. We enjoyed a great dinner while the sun set over Lake Issik Kul and just as we were finishing up, Abdul Karim came back with his fellow security guard Azamat Ali and his huge guard dog, Tarzan. Azamat Ali was very excited for us to take pictures of him and his dog on the lake-shore, which we promised to share by email.
We offered to share some food with them, but they declined since September is Ramadan and as muslims, they were not allowed to eat between 4am and 7pm for the month. We had a brief converstation about religion in our respective countries and Abdul-Karim told us that most security guards in Kyrgyzstan are muslim because they are know for their honesty and for not stealing or harming people. He explained that there were many different religions in Kyrgyzstan and that they all got along well with one another and was happy to hear that the same was true in Canada.
At 8:00pm, just as we were ready to retire to the tent for our nightly knitting and reading (such an exciting life on the bikes, I know!), the two of them were back, this time with a third security guard in tow. We pulled out our sleeping pads so there was sitting room for everyone. Abdul Karim had a loaf of bread and a jar of milk mixed with oil for dunking it in and we all shared it together, and then we shared a bar of chocolate with them, all the while talking about our trip and our country and asking them about theirs, with the help of our phrase book, our picture book and very limited english and kyrgyz. It was a great evening of sharing and we went to sleep that night feeling extremely secure under the watchful eye of our three personal security guards!
Christine
Issik Kul
Issik Kul is like the Saskatchewan of Kyrgyzstan. In a country that is over 90% mountainous, the shores of this huge lake are the flatlands. Fortunately for the cyclist (for whom flat often equates to boring), this is also the most fertile region and thus the most heavily populated and so a great place to take in some Kyrgyz culture....
In each of the small town and villages that we passed through on the highway between Bishkek and Karakol, small children came running to the roadside to wave and hollar, "hello!" and sometimes "how are you?" as we rode by. The adults were more reserved; some waved and said hello, others would wait until we initiated some sort of interaction, be it a wave or a nod, and then smiled broadly as they returned the greeting. Many people called out, "asgooda?", meaning, "where are you from?" as we pedalled past. A few stopped to chat when we took breaks or stopped at a small shop; all were eager to know where we were from, how far we had ridden and where we were headed. These converstations all took place through an exciting combination of rough english, kyrgyz and sign language and even when they were brief, were beautiful little cultural exchanges. A strange thing that we've noticed is that everyone we meet wants to give us their address and phone number and wants ours in return, even when we cannot speak the same language!
The highway so far has been paved, but 'pavement' means different things in different places and it hasn't always been the smooth black top that is so easy to cruise along. I tried to think of the best way to describe it as we rode along, and this is all I came up with.... You know that trick that you do for little kids, putting a finger horizontally between your lips and wagging it up and down while trying to speak so that the words come out all garbled?! Well, that's what some Kyrgyz asphalt feels like!!
The highways here are shared by belching soviet transport trucks, shiny new BMWs and Mercedes, childern on bicycles far too big for them, terminally ill Ladas and donkey-and horse-drawn carts. Herds of sheep, horses and cows cross frequently, driven by herders on horseback. The contrasts are incredible. One day we even saw a young man steering an old wooden horse drawn cart pull his horse to a halt so that he could answer his cell phone! Acutally, it seems like we're the only people in this entire country without cell phones, which really puzzles the locals who are constanly asking for our number or for us to call them.
The typical rural home here is made of cement or mudbricks, but finished on the outside and painted white, almost always with blue trim (we've seen one house with pink trim, otherwise all blue!) around the windows. The nicer homes are more ornate around the windows, with fancy shutters or glittery mirrors as decoration. The apexes are often done in wood and is the most aesthetic part of the home. There is usually a small door leading to a balcony and the wood is usually quite decorative. Each home has several small out-buildings (kitchens, tool sheds, etc.) and is surrounded by a fence which also includes a courtyard where most of the day's work and chores take place: this time of year, there is corn drying, potatoes and apples waiting to be taken to the market, laundry hanging, hay piled up for the winter, childen playing, etc. Apples and pears are both in peak season right now and there are buckets-full of each outside just about every home. We've been indulging in these often and they're delicious!!
Every day, we ride past a million and one incredible photo opportunities of people going about their daily business, but we try to be discreet and take photos only when appropriate. I hope that our picures will help to fill in any gaps and do better justice to this wonderful place than I can with words....
Christine
In each of the small town and villages that we passed through on the highway between Bishkek and Karakol, small children came running to the roadside to wave and hollar, "hello!" and sometimes "how are you?" as we rode by. The adults were more reserved; some waved and said hello, others would wait until we initiated some sort of interaction, be it a wave or a nod, and then smiled broadly as they returned the greeting. Many people called out, "asgooda?", meaning, "where are you from?" as we pedalled past. A few stopped to chat when we took breaks or stopped at a small shop; all were eager to know where we were from, how far we had ridden and where we were headed. These converstations all took place through an exciting combination of rough english, kyrgyz and sign language and even when they were brief, were beautiful little cultural exchanges. A strange thing that we've noticed is that everyone we meet wants to give us their address and phone number and wants ours in return, even when we cannot speak the same language!
The highway so far has been paved, but 'pavement' means different things in different places and it hasn't always been the smooth black top that is so easy to cruise along. I tried to think of the best way to describe it as we rode along, and this is all I came up with.... You know that trick that you do for little kids, putting a finger horizontally between your lips and wagging it up and down while trying to speak so that the words come out all garbled?! Well, that's what some Kyrgyz asphalt feels like!!
The highways here are shared by belching soviet transport trucks, shiny new BMWs and Mercedes, childern on bicycles far too big for them, terminally ill Ladas and donkey-and horse-drawn carts. Herds of sheep, horses and cows cross frequently, driven by herders on horseback. The contrasts are incredible. One day we even saw a young man steering an old wooden horse drawn cart pull his horse to a halt so that he could answer his cell phone! Acutally, it seems like we're the only people in this entire country without cell phones, which really puzzles the locals who are constanly asking for our number or for us to call them.
The typical rural home here is made of cement or mudbricks, but finished on the outside and painted white, almost always with blue trim (we've seen one house with pink trim, otherwise all blue!) around the windows. The nicer homes are more ornate around the windows, with fancy shutters or glittery mirrors as decoration. The apexes are often done in wood and is the most aesthetic part of the home. There is usually a small door leading to a balcony and the wood is usually quite decorative. Each home has several small out-buildings (kitchens, tool sheds, etc.) and is surrounded by a fence which also includes a courtyard where most of the day's work and chores take place: this time of year, there is corn drying, potatoes and apples waiting to be taken to the market, laundry hanging, hay piled up for the winter, childen playing, etc. Apples and pears are both in peak season right now and there are buckets-full of each outside just about every home. We've been indulging in these often and they're delicious!!
Every day, we ride past a million and one incredible photo opportunities of people going about their daily business, but we try to be discreet and take photos only when appropriate. I hope that our picures will help to fill in any gaps and do better justice to this wonderful place than I can with words....
Christine
Thursday, September 25, 2008
a wee warm-up ride
Tired of hanging around Bishkek waiting for our Tajikistan visas to get sorted out, we loaded up our bikes and headed out on a short warm-up/test drive to the nearby Ala-Archa canyon. Only 40km from the city, it was the quickest way to get out of the smog and into the mountains and would give us a chance to make sure that our bikes were in good working order and that we had all of the camping gear that we needed.
It ended up being a pretty ambitious venture. People often ask us what we do to get ready for a trip like this. Do we bike all the time at home? How to we train? The truth: we don't... I mean really, what better way to train for cycling for 8-10 hours a day and riding over high mountain passes on rough roads than doing just that? So this trip was sort of meant to be 'training'.
And if "No pain, no gain" is really true, then we gained a LOT on that little adventure. In the 40km from Bishkek to the park, we gained over a kilometer of elevation, and then another 600m on our hike the following day! If that isn't training, I don't know what is!
Still, the long slog to the park was well rewarded with wonderful mountain scenery in the steep valley, fall colors, ibex sightings and incredibly clear starry skies at night!
Now, we're even more excited to really hit the road and see the rest of this country...
It ended up being a pretty ambitious venture. People often ask us what we do to get ready for a trip like this. Do we bike all the time at home? How to we train? The truth: we don't... I mean really, what better way to train for cycling for 8-10 hours a day and riding over high mountain passes on rough roads than doing just that? So this trip was sort of meant to be 'training'.
And if "No pain, no gain" is really true, then we gained a LOT on that little adventure. In the 40km from Bishkek to the park, we gained over a kilometer of elevation, and then another 600m on our hike the following day! If that isn't training, I don't know what is!
Still, the long slog to the park was well rewarded with wonderful mountain scenery in the steep valley, fall colors, ibex sightings and incredibly clear starry skies at night!
Now, we're even more excited to really hit the road and see the rest of this country...
Maps
Here are the best maps that we could find of Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan for those that want to follow along.
We have finally learned better than to draw lines on them since our plans change more often than our bike shorts (which is probably less often that it should be!). Instead, each time we leave a large-ish centre where we have internet access, we'll let you know where we're headed next.
With our Tajik visas finally and firmly in hand, we're heading out tomorrow morning around the north shore of Issik Kul lake to Karakol. The next updates (and hopefully more exciting ones) will be from there in about 5 days.
Christine & Jodie
We have finally learned better than to draw lines on them since our plans change more often than our bike shorts (which is probably less often that it should be!). Instead, each time we leave a large-ish centre where we have internet access, we'll let you know where we're headed next.
With our Tajik visas finally and firmly in hand, we're heading out tomorrow morning around the north shore of Issik Kul lake to Karakol. The next updates (and hopefully more exciting ones) will be from there in about 5 days.
Christine & Jodie
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
How to get a Tajikistan Visa (cont'd)...
Step 16: Drop off passports at the embassy and tell them that a letter of invitation will be faxed there soon. Get out of town for 2 days, knowing that your visa will be ready when you arrive.
Step 17: Come back to the city, go to get your visa and learn that your letter of invitation was never sent.
Step 18: Hurry to an internet cafe to see what the problem is...learn that you gave the wrong code to the person who was going to write a letter.
Step 19: Realize that you lost the code. Phone Western Union and learn that they cannot give you the code.
Step 20: Have another beer at 11am to calm your nerves.
Step 21: Have someone translate a note for you into russian explaining that you sent money last week and need the code again.
Step 22: Go to Western Union and get the code. Email the man.
Step 23: Get confirmation that your letter has been sent.
Step 24: (this is now day 8 of this project!) Go to the embassy and get the visa!
Step 25: Do a happy dance and ride your bike back to the hotel with no hands, singing loudly :)
Step 17: Come back to the city, go to get your visa and learn that your letter of invitation was never sent.
Step 18: Hurry to an internet cafe to see what the problem is...learn that you gave the wrong code to the person who was going to write a letter.
Step 19: Realize that you lost the code. Phone Western Union and learn that they cannot give you the code.
Step 20: Have another beer at 11am to calm your nerves.
Step 21: Have someone translate a note for you into russian explaining that you sent money last week and need the code again.
Step 22: Go to Western Union and get the code. Email the man.
Step 23: Get confirmation that your letter has been sent.
Step 24: (this is now day 8 of this project!) Go to the embassy and get the visa!
Step 25: Do a happy dance and ride your bike back to the hotel with no hands, singing loudly :)
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Tajikistan wins the president's cup 2008!
It was a tense game. With kyrgyz flags flapping, drums pounding, horns sounding and the crowd cheering, "Nada! Nada! Nada!" (goal! goal! goal!), the national soccer team put up a good fight. The game was tied 1-1 at the end of regular time, the same after 2 extra times and it finally went to penalty kicks. Everyone was on their feet and cheering loudly (or boo-ing when the Tajiks kicked) but unfortunately their enthusiasm wasn't enough (nor ours) and the Tajiks took it.
A bit of a disappointment, though we still had a great time cheering with the crowd and being taught how to cheer in Russian :)
Christine
A bit of a disappointment, though we still had a great time cheering with the crowd and being taught how to cheer in Russian :)
Christine
Saturday, September 20, 2008
How to get a Tajik visa in Bishkek (in 15+ easy steps)
Step 1: Spend two and a half hours riding around the suburbs of Bishkek on your bike (dodging people, busses, cars, and manholes without covers) with a scrap of paper with a street name on it, and trying to follow directions given in a clear-as-mud mix of russian, kyrgyz and sign language.
Step 2: Arrive at embassy just in time for it to close for lunch, back track to the nearest food stand and enjoy some delicious samsas while waiting for it to reopen in an hour and a half.
Step 3: Fill out necessary forms and hand them in, only to be told that Canadians now need a letter of Invitation from a tourism company in Tajikistan (this wasn't the case about a month ago).
Step 4: Return to the city centre and spend the rest of the day searching for a tourism company in Bishkek that could help us get the letter. Find none.
Step 5: Eat and Sleep, business hours are over and there's nothing you can do until morning. Sleep in a -30 down sleeping bag in +25 degree heat in order to escape the mosquitos in your hotel room.
Step 6: Continue the search for a letter of invitation, this time via internet. Frantically email all of the english-speaking tourism companies in Tajikistan for help.
Step 7: Become so frustrated that you take a break over a cold pint of beer (9 %) at 11am.
Step 8: Get a reply from Tajik Tourism that they will write the letters for 50 USD each, wired through Western Union. Get your hopes up that everything will work out before the weekend (this is Friday afternoon, by the way).
Step 9: Return to the embassy to hand in our applications and tell them that a letter will be faxed to them soon. Once again, arrive just as it is closing for lunch (at a different time, we didn't really make the same mistake twice).
Step 10: Eat pizza (it's the most common food around here!) because you've been on such a rat race that you're starving.
Step 11: Begin the search for a Western Union, following the same method as to find the embassy. Finally track down a Western Union sign, only to find that there is no longer actually a branch there.
Step 12: Return to the embassy. Determine through some rough hand gesture and even rougher russian that lunch was actually turning into a full day affair and that we'd better come back on Monday.
Step 13: Race back to the city centre to continue the search for a Western Union. Arrive just as they're closing at 5:00. Consider crying, but laugh instead.
Step 14: Eat and sleep. It's the weekend now and there's nothing you can do until Monday.
Step 15: Stumble accidentally upon an open Western Union on Saturday morning when you're not even looking for one (we were actually looking for a toilet since the water and power in our hotel were off). Wire the money for the letter of invitation. One small success!
To be continued(on Monday, when we can go back to the embassy)......
Step 2: Arrive at embassy just in time for it to close for lunch, back track to the nearest food stand and enjoy some delicious samsas while waiting for it to reopen in an hour and a half.
Step 3: Fill out necessary forms and hand them in, only to be told that Canadians now need a letter of Invitation from a tourism company in Tajikistan (this wasn't the case about a month ago).
Step 4: Return to the city centre and spend the rest of the day searching for a tourism company in Bishkek that could help us get the letter. Find none.
Step 5: Eat and Sleep, business hours are over and there's nothing you can do until morning. Sleep in a -30 down sleeping bag in +25 degree heat in order to escape the mosquitos in your hotel room.
Step 6: Continue the search for a letter of invitation, this time via internet. Frantically email all of the english-speaking tourism companies in Tajikistan for help.
Step 7: Become so frustrated that you take a break over a cold pint of beer (9 %) at 11am.
Step 8: Get a reply from Tajik Tourism that they will write the letters for 50 USD each, wired through Western Union. Get your hopes up that everything will work out before the weekend (this is Friday afternoon, by the way).
Step 9: Return to the embassy to hand in our applications and tell them that a letter will be faxed to them soon. Once again, arrive just as it is closing for lunch (at a different time, we didn't really make the same mistake twice).
Step 10: Eat pizza (it's the most common food around here!) because you've been on such a rat race that you're starving.
Step 11: Begin the search for a Western Union, following the same method as to find the embassy. Finally track down a Western Union sign, only to find that there is no longer actually a branch there.
Step 12: Return to the embassy. Determine through some rough hand gesture and even rougher russian that lunch was actually turning into a full day affair and that we'd better come back on Monday.
Step 13: Race back to the city centre to continue the search for a Western Union. Arrive just as they're closing at 5:00. Consider crying, but laugh instead.
Step 14: Eat and sleep. It's the weekend now and there's nothing you can do until Monday.
Step 15: Stumble accidentally upon an open Western Union on Saturday morning when you're not even looking for one (we were actually looking for a toilet since the water and power in our hotel were off). Wire the money for the letter of invitation. One small success!
To be continued(on Monday, when we can go back to the embassy)......
Friday, September 19, 2008
Nightmare in Urumqi
Our flight to Urumqi, the second stop on our long journey to Bishkek was 3 hours late. It had taken some time to convince the immigration officials at the Beijing airport that we didn't need a visa because we promised not to leave the airports there or in Urumqi and we'd be out of the country within 24 hours. We tried desperately to get some sleep while we waited for the flight, but with no one able to communicate with us in English to tell us what time the plane was expected, we had to keep an ear open for announcements and an eye on our departure gate. I had a migraine and my pills were all in the checked luggage. By the time we finally reached Urumqi, we'd been up for well over 30 hours and it was the middle of the night local time.
We were quite shocked when they kicked us out of the airport because it was closing for the night. Technically, we weren't legally allowed in China at all. So when 5 friendly taxi drivers tried for nearly an hour to convince us to go to a hotel to sleep for a few hours before our flight, we kept smiling but refusing. If we were going to be hassled about not having visas, we wanted to be as close as physically possible to the airport....and so we sat on top of our luggage, right outside the door all night until it opened at 6:30am.
And then the fun really started. My bike box had to be searched before we could get in the door, then we had to pay nearly $200 at 2 different offices before they'd let our bikes on the plane. The fact that we had to pay didn't bother us nearly as much as the rudeness of the airport staff who wouldn't even try to understand our sign language or communicate with us at all beyond yelling "pay money!" and shouting directions in their own language.
Sweating and physically and mentally exhausted, we finally battled our way through security and sat down to enjoy some noodles - our first meal in far too long...only seconds before we were called to board. We scalded our mouths trying to wolf down as much food as we could before the lign-up disappeared, then got on one last plane to Kyrgystan.
Despite hitting an all-time low on the way there (tearfully wondering why we were doing this to begin with), we were hugely reassured as soon as we arrived at the Bishkek airport. The people here are so incredibly friendly and polite and helpful - we are sure that travelling around this country will be wonderful!
Christine
We were quite shocked when they kicked us out of the airport because it was closing for the night. Technically, we weren't legally allowed in China at all. So when 5 friendly taxi drivers tried for nearly an hour to convince us to go to a hotel to sleep for a few hours before our flight, we kept smiling but refusing. If we were going to be hassled about not having visas, we wanted to be as close as physically possible to the airport....and so we sat on top of our luggage, right outside the door all night until it opened at 6:30am.
And then the fun really started. My bike box had to be searched before we could get in the door, then we had to pay nearly $200 at 2 different offices before they'd let our bikes on the plane. The fact that we had to pay didn't bother us nearly as much as the rudeness of the airport staff who wouldn't even try to understand our sign language or communicate with us at all beyond yelling "pay money!" and shouting directions in their own language.
Sweating and physically and mentally exhausted, we finally battled our way through security and sat down to enjoy some noodles - our first meal in far too long...only seconds before we were called to board. We scalded our mouths trying to wolf down as much food as we could before the lign-up disappeared, then got on one last plane to Kyrgystan.
Despite hitting an all-time low on the way there (tearfully wondering why we were doing this to begin with), we were hugely reassured as soon as we arrived at the Bishkek airport. The people here are so incredibly friendly and polite and helpful - we are sure that travelling around this country will be wonderful!
Christine
"Hello!"
Despite all of our stress and headache trying to get here and then to get visas sorted, it's the little moments make this all worth while:
-We were sitting beside all of our gear in the dark outside the airport in Urumqi when a van drove by; we'd been watching the driver unload parcels for an hour or so and he had been too shy to come over and talk to us. When he zoomed by us he leaned out the window and yelled, "Hello! Welcome to China! Bye-Bye!"
-Yesterday as we were walking to dinner we met a group of young children just getting out of school. As they got closer they were looking at us and talking and giggling. Finally one of the boys said a loud "Hello!" and then they all laughed and kept saying it... I replied with a "How are you?" and they all took off running and yelling "How are you! How are you! Hello! How are you!"
-Last night, again walking we heard someone behind us say hello, and turned around to see two Turkish students offering a handshake saying, "Hello, can we meet you?" We talked with them for a bit. They were shy but excited to get a chance to practice their english. They told us how all of their textbooks for computer programming were in english and they realized how important it is.
It is challenging to be in a country where you do not speak the language, but all of these moments make us smile and remind us why we are here. They also encourage us to try that much harder to practice learning the local language. It is so much fun to hear someone putting themselves out there while trying talk to you!
-Jodie
-We were sitting beside all of our gear in the dark outside the airport in Urumqi when a van drove by; we'd been watching the driver unload parcels for an hour or so and he had been too shy to come over and talk to us. When he zoomed by us he leaned out the window and yelled, "Hello! Welcome to China! Bye-Bye!"
-Yesterday as we were walking to dinner we met a group of young children just getting out of school. As they got closer they were looking at us and talking and giggling. Finally one of the boys said a loud "Hello!" and then they all laughed and kept saying it... I replied with a "How are you?" and they all took off running and yelling "How are you! How are you! Hello! How are you!"
-Last night, again walking we heard someone behind us say hello, and turned around to see two Turkish students offering a handshake saying, "Hello, can we meet you?" We talked with them for a bit. They were shy but excited to get a chance to practice their english. They told us how all of their textbooks for computer programming were in english and they realized how important it is.
It is challenging to be in a country where you do not speak the language, but all of these moments make us smile and remind us why we are here. They also encourage us to try that much harder to practice learning the local language. It is so much fun to hear someone putting themselves out there while trying talk to you!
-Jodie
Thursday, September 18, 2008
We made it!
I don't know if we could have chosen a tougher place to get to in the world! 30 (quite unpleasant) hours in transit, but we're here and we can already tell that Kyrgyzstan is going to be a wonderful country to travel around. The people are very friendly and helpful and the mountains that we saw on the flight in were incredible!
We've spent the last 2 days running all over town trying to sort out visas for either China (not going to happen) or Tajikistan (proving to be difficult, but we're working on it) so we haven't had time to sit down and blog or upload pics. We promise they're coming though, before we head out on the bikes.
We've spent the last 2 days running all over town trying to sort out visas for either China (not going to happen) or Tajikistan (proving to be difficult, but we're working on it) so we haven't had time to sit down and blog or upload pics. We promise they're coming though, before we head out on the bikes.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Update
Last week, Jodie and I met up in Vancouver for a one-day visa-getting and trip-shopping marathon (chauffered by Corey - thanks!). Project #1 was appyling for our Chinese visas. No problem...just show up at the consulate at openning time and we'd be good to go. Or so we thought. When we showed up, we saw the beginnings of the line. We asked someone where to go and were told, "through the hall, down the stairs, out the door and down the back alley." "Ha ha ha," we laughed. But it was no joke. I guess the first person in line got up at 5:00am. Showing up at 8:30am set us back about 200 people...
So we left. Visa-less. With our only option being to pick up the visas the morning of our flight, we didn't want to run the risk of not being early enough in the line and not getting our passports back. Fortunately, our flight takes us to Kyrgyzstan first, where we know we can get a visa at the airport. From there, we'll be at the mercy of the Chinese embassy in Bishkek...who, by all reports, still aren't issuing visas to foreigners because of the olympics.
But fear not! Chronic planner that I am, I'm alreay looking into back-up plans. We could stay in Kyrgyzstan and get to know just about every road in the small little country or there's Tajikistan to the south, that is supposed to be even more mountainous...
So we left. Visa-less. With our only option being to pick up the visas the morning of our flight, we didn't want to run the risk of not being early enough in the line and not getting our passports back. Fortunately, our flight takes us to Kyrgyzstan first, where we know we can get a visa at the airport. From there, we'll be at the mercy of the Chinese embassy in Bishkek...who, by all reports, still aren't issuing visas to foreigners because of the olympics.
But fear not! Chronic planner that I am, I'm alreay looking into back-up plans. We could stay in Kyrgyzstan and get to know just about every road in the small little country or there's Tajikistan to the south, that is supposed to be even more mountainous...
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
The Plan
Coming up with a general route for this trip over the past couple weeks has felt almost as exhausting as riding the route will be. It wasn't very convenient for us to want so badly to visit China and Tibet right after the Olympics. Tourism has been very restricted since March of last year and with the legal status of travelling in Tibet changing on a whim at the best of times, it just didn't seem worth the risk of ruining our trip to plan on going there and get turned back.
So there's a new plan...one that, after a bit of research (a whole lot of google-earthing and blog-reading) and letting go of the idea of Tibet, we're just as excited about.
Voila:
We leave Vancouver on September 15th and after a quick (30-hour!) hop across the ocean and most of another continent, we land in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Kyrgyzstan (I just love spelling it) has a lot of the same appeal that Tibet did: huge mountains, nomadic traditions, friendly people and lots of rural culture. We'll spend up to a month exploring that country, making our way towards the border of China where we'll cross into Xinjiang province along the historical Silk Road.
Once in Xinjiang, we've got a few options based on the weather. The climate there is much like here, and being in the mountains, we could have to reroute a bit if passes are closed due to snow. We hope to take in a section of the Karakoram Highway (the southern loop on the map, where we can see some of the world's highest peaks, including K2), visit the Taklimakan desert (third largest in the world) and hopefully ride over an impressive pass in the Tian Shan mountains before ending up in Urumqi (pronounced 'a room key'). This province of China won't be at all like what we all consider 'Chinese'. The people in this province (actually an autonomous region) are mostly muslim and they are more ethnically similar to their neighbors in the former Soviet Union than the rest of China.
So that's the plan. Subject to as many changes as we need to keep the adventure rolling...that's all part of the fun!
So there's a new plan...one that, after a bit of research (a whole lot of google-earthing and blog-reading) and letting go of the idea of Tibet, we're just as excited about.
Voila:
We leave Vancouver on September 15th and after a quick (30-hour!) hop across the ocean and most of another continent, we land in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Kyrgyzstan (I just love spelling it) has a lot of the same appeal that Tibet did: huge mountains, nomadic traditions, friendly people and lots of rural culture. We'll spend up to a month exploring that country, making our way towards the border of China where we'll cross into Xinjiang province along the historical Silk Road.
Once in Xinjiang, we've got a few options based on the weather. The climate there is much like here, and being in the mountains, we could have to reroute a bit if passes are closed due to snow. We hope to take in a section of the Karakoram Highway (the southern loop on the map, where we can see some of the world's highest peaks, including K2), visit the Taklimakan desert (third largest in the world) and hopefully ride over an impressive pass in the Tian Shan mountains before ending up in Urumqi (pronounced 'a room key'). This province of China won't be at all like what we all consider 'Chinese'. The people in this province (actually an autonomous region) are mostly muslim and they are more ethnically similar to their neighbors in the former Soviet Union than the rest of China.
So that's the plan. Subject to as many changes as we need to keep the adventure rolling...that's all part of the fun!
Monday, August 11, 2008
A New Beginning...
We swore that South America wouldn't be our last ride...and so we're back! The details are still fuzzy but my living room is scattered with maps of Western China (Quinghai and Xinjiang provinces) and Tibet and my butt is slowly getting used to my new Brooks bike seat. We loved the high altitudes and rural cultures of Bolivia and we love mountains and that is why we're drawn to the Tibetan region. It is on the world's highest mountain plateau (over 4000m, with mountains rising up to 8000m) and home to nomadic yak herders, buddhist monks and many han chinese people who have chosen to make this harsh and remote environment home. Travelling in the fall, we expect to encounter some less-than-pleasant weather - from freezing cold nights to snow-covered mountain passes to bitterly cold winds and maybe even the odd scorcher in some of the drier desert areas. What we know for sure is that it will be another awesome adventure! So stay tuned - we'll start riding (and writing about our experiences) in mid-september.
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