Photo of the day: Done
Day fifty nine.
67km, that was all I had left. So I had a very gentle morning. Eating the emergency pecan crunch cereal bars from my 'if things get really bad' pouch kicked off the last day of school atmosphere.
I then went to buy one of Yengisar's famous knives. I had no interest in a ceremonial knife or cutlery, I wanted a whopper - a proper multi-purpose bone-crushing, garlic-slicing, meat-scoring beauty of a cleaver. After screwing my face up at the first offerings the salesman paused and asked me if I was a chef, or worked in a kitchen. "Yes I am a chef" I lied. With the smell of dishonesty stinking out the place he brought out a handmade beast of a knife. "I'd like two please, my friend is also a chef." I'd show you a photo but they're so heavily wrapped it seems wrong to disturb them until my return to Beijing.
My friend for whom the other knife is a gift, also isn't a chef, but he is the man more responsible than any other for this trip given that he: A) convinced me to move to China four years ago; B) advised Holly on taking the job that made me return this time; and C) introduced me to the stupidity of riding idiotic distances between Chinese cities. This is the perfect gift as on one of my very first weekends in China he, an old China hand, introduced me to the concept of the Chinese cleaver as he was buying one from a market in Hunan. He made clear that you only ever need to buy one as they last forever. Only weeks later, his mother-in-law had already broken it smashing up meat bones.
It's the perfect gift.
With such a short distance to cover, today was a pootle rather than a ride as I tried to arrive just after Holly, an arrival she almost managed to completely miss on film.
Being £500 under budget and with the hotel only having the one brand of champagne I actually like*, I had decided to pre-order champagne to complete that Tour de France winner feeling.
It's important to remember that I have won, I dropped Tom and Jonny weeks ago.
*I really can be an arsehole at times but my preference for Bollinger is dangerously close to marking me out as a monster.
A Photo every hour: today's highlight - Rules of Riding: 1. START AT HOME, 2. GO WHERE THE CHINESE GOVERNMENT AND ROAD SYSTEM ALLOW, 3. FINISH IN TIME FOR JOB INTERVIEWS AND A SUIT FITTING FOR A WEDDING.
Cut my hair, get a job...try and turn this into a coherent book with all the historical colour aund genuine opinions I saved you lot from.
There'll be one final blog about Kashgar this weekend, then I'll tidy the website up and add some photo pages but basically that's it, we're done.
Day 54: Simon of Arabia
Photo of the day: Top Knot
Day fifty four.
After a record breaking 28 minute check out I headed north as the road seeks to avoid who knows what or perhaps join up the attractive villages to the north and west of Hotan. I stopped to pick up a naan for my evening meal and another for breakfast. As I've progressed west it feels like China has become more reserved, even shy at times. At the naan oven I met the exception to prove this rule. As he didn't have change, he gave me an extra naan despite my protestations that I was happy with two spring onion naans for 50p. I promise in the first photo below that he's recreating the moment I ordered two naans.
Please note that's a cycling cap and not, I repeat not, a bandanna.
I also noticed that my honesty test had been failed by Hotan. I've left my watch (£2) on my handlebar for the entire journey and the place it was finally stolen was outside a PSB building and under the gaze of the best hotel in town's security. Shame on you Hotan.
Out of the oasis and back into the desert one last time I made good progress before your friend and mine, the sandstorm arrived. It was a finer grain than it's Qinghai or Gansu sisters, which made it possible to pass through with a quickly fashioned head scarf.
I put the music on shuffle and told the storm to do its worst. There were as many moments of spine tingling goodness as there were moments of horror. Des Lynam reading If by Rudyard Kipling followed by Super Trooper by Abba sums up that shift best.
Then, as if my life was a movie, You'll Never Walk Alone Came on at the end of the storm as a blue circle opened in the sky. Then it closed in again; just can't build on success can we? (rhetorical)
I expertly found a hole to hide in, set up my tent and enjoyed my naan with a pot noodle and garlic oil dip, before falling asleep to the sound of fighter jets.
I'll also admit to old person signal hunting with my mobile; but it worked, somehow in a two man tent I had blackspots and hotspots.
May 30: Hotan to a hole in the ground - 102km
Start Time: 09.30
Finish Time: 19.00
Hours Cycling: 8
A Photo every hour:Today's highlight - the barbecue palace
Day 55: Tip Your Bartender
Photo of the day: It's going to be a riot of an afternoon
Day fifty five.
I've not gone into the politics of Xinjiang on this blog for two good reasons. The best of which is that I'm just - one more time for you Jenny Bradley - a twat on a bike, the second best is that it's too complicated to explain here. So go and read four or five books on it and come back.
Done that? Good, then we can continue.
The day started with suicidal lizards, who are not a provincial punk band who once opened for Capdown (if they are then sorry), but literally suicidal lizards who kept jumping in front of my front wheel. It's a miracle I only killed one.
I passed some road kill watermelons that were starting to ferment in the desert heat, which reminded me that it was time to start working on the torso tan. This immediately earned me an ice coffee from one man and a terrifying stare of sexual intent from another.
With my shirt back on I stopped for a refreshment in a small village and admired the continuing force of Red Bull's marketing domination. In China their red and gold label is an immediate winner, but bugger me when will all other brands realise that free merch is embraced in China in a way no other country does it.
At 2pm I faced a choice, press on into another sandstorm for 77km or stop in a place I'd been calling Piss Mountain since Hotan (Pishan - it's actually skin mountain but with my mixed reading ability Pi Mountain easily because Pee Mountain and then Piss Mountain).
My decision, believe it or not, was to stop at Piss Mountain because otherwise I'd be too far ahead of schedule. An error.
Sitting 8km back from the main road, the first 6km there were scenic vine clad villages. It was also downhill, which is a cycling aphrodisiac if ever there was one.
The first sign that this was possibly the wrong choice was the sight of a gun turret atop a police station, which hadn't even been painted blue and white yet. 2km further in and only 200m from my hotel the sight of a police motorcycle stopping side on in front of me at the traffic lights and two properly armed officers walking towards me confirmed Piss Mountain probably wasn't Disneyland.
Off came the sunglasses and hat to reveal my 'please don't hurt me, my country has a huge trade deficit with yours' appearance. Joking aside - and I'm not just saying this because I'm still in the same town - as with all of the SWAT police I've dealt with they've been firm but professional. They asked me to ride back down the road with them until we were outside the PSB station, where they went through me ID and confirmed I was - alright Jenny, have another - a twat on a bike by looking at my twat on a bike photos on my camera.
All was going well until a child of about eight, who I'm 90% certain was mentally ill, started to grab and then try and touch the end of one of the police officer's guns. This is a part of China where the police shoot first; all the Jason Bourne thoughts ran through my head - you know the ones you wouldn't do if a shot did get fired because you'd be too busy wondering if your cycling shoots would hold the poo*. Fortunately the officers remained calm and waved him away.
I was handed my camera and sent to the hotel. At the hotel I spoke to the police on the phone (another successful Chinese telephone conversation - gold star) and then 30 seconds later the police turned up in person, this went less successfully as I didn't know where I was going next (in Chinese). Fortunately two Uyghurs translated my next location for me as I only knew the Uyghur name of the town.
One final security insult to Pishan, the hotel insisted I keep my bike in the room, which feels a bit like a boundary has been crossed, especially given the boobs on the wall too.
All that said, a quick search has revealed I've accidentally gone on holiday to the centre of terrorist training in Xinjiang (depending who you believe - I'll let you judge after your thorough background reading). Well done me. What with the sandstorm that at least I avoided, raging outside, I reckon it's an afternoon to enjoy a few Sinkiang beers and a bag of sunflower seeds in my hotel room, whilst the boobs watch over me.
*I think I've lost too much weight and my shame would be evident for all to see.
May 31: A Hole in the Ground to Pishan - 84KM
Start Time: 08.30
Finish Time: 14.00
Hours Cycling: 5
Lizards: Countless (1 dead)
A Photo Every Hour: Today's highlight - Fermenting watermelon
After all the cheating and the reduction to 100km days I felt fresh in Hotan, to the extent that my brain started to work again. I went for a cycle around Hotan, visited the disappointing museum, enjoyed the fantastic chaos of Friday prayers around the mosque and the bazaar and then consumed yet more kebab.
In the afternoon I did some cultural wine sampling by buying a bottle of pomegranate wine, which is surprisingly tasty. Best of all the label reads "Hotan Pomegranate Wine, like a shining ruby, sparkling with brilliant gloss. Smell the unequal incense, taste the equably mellowness. Made of rare fruit from the southern part of the Taklamakan Desert. High quality raw pomegranate brown with fine grapes and wild roses. Specially designed for successful person, taste the feelings of paradise." Hardly Umbongo but it'll do.
One friday in Hotan
Running totals - week 8
Average Speed: 13.6 KPH
Soundtrack to the Journey
The road is a lonely place and you probably want to block out the noise of your next puncture anyway. Here are the top ten songs/albums of my journey.
10. Yes it's fucking political - Skunk Anansie
Why?: That riff.
Best for: Starting a long slog into the wind or kick starting the next stint.
Special Fact: Contrary to the songs message, not everything is political - look at Ed Miliband's future for example.
9. Adrenaline - Deftones
Why?: 40 minutes of relentlessness.
Best for: The misery of rain, sandstorms, headwind and cold.
Special Fact: White Pony, their third album released in 2000 is the perfect soundtrack to Beijing at night in 2015.
8. No Sensitivity - Jimmy Eat World
Why?: Because at times you will either want to remember what it felt like to be eighteen to remind yourself how pleased the eighteen year old you would be that you're doing this (and you should keep going) or you want to revel in the fact you the following lyrics have no place in your life now that you're an adult.
The world don't spin without you
I'm amazed you're standing still
I'm taking my kisses back (whoa)
I want my kisses back from you
And no your problems, they aren't problems
So be glad they never will
I'm taking my kisses back (whoa)
I want my kisses back from you, from you, you
Best for: For putting a tent up in a sandstorm.
Special Fact: You can't take kisses back but you can retrieve a 'borrowed' emo band hoody as part of some inevitable teenage heartbreak.
7. Alanis Morissette and the other songs that sound like Beacon FM from the mid 90s
Why?: Because you'll need to block things out and drifting into dated local radio will really help.
Best for: When nothing's happening.
Special Fact: You can easily add in your own local radio advertisements, but you never do.
6. Shakermaker - Oasis
Why?: The intro
Best for: Riding in deserts, this is the perfect song to cycle through a desert too.
Special Fact: This song does not last as long as most deserts.
5. Welcome To The Jungle - Guns N Roses
Why?: Impossible not to increase your RPM with this playing.
Best for: Going unnecessarily fast and ensuring you bonk later in the day.
Special Fact: This is the only GNR song I like, absolutely detest their other output.
4. A Secret History - The Best Of The Divine Comedy
Why?: Because it's the best distraction going.
Best for: Singing along when happy or sad.
Special Fact: I had breached thirty by the time I realised Songs of Love was the theme tune to Father Ted.
3. When the Levee Breaks - Led Zeppelin
Why?: Because rhythm is everything
Best for: The relentless slog into a persistent headwind
Special Fact: It's not as good as Kashmir, a song which is actually too good and will lead you to lose focus and drift out of cycle lanes
2. Rave Tapes - Mogwai
Why?: Because you need to relax in a hotel.
Best for: The 45 minutes between stuffing your face and falling asleep
Special Fact: Track 2 - Simon Ferocious, is nothing to do with me. Track 3 - Remurdered, is either the best song you've heard or the best song you're yet to hear.
1. The Boys Are Back In Town - Thin Lizzy
Why?: Dangerously suitable for Top Gear - The Tunes III, but for some reason it always arrived at the right moment on this journey.
Best For: Arriving into a town, as a boy.
Special Fact: My Dad really likes this song.
If you think that's bad, check out Spotify's best effort.
This is where I update on my progress. Expect lots of fabricated statistics and dated music references.