Chapter 3
The Dragon’s Den

Saturday 10 June, Green Diamond Hotel, Meng La, Yunnan Province, China

Welcome to China!

It’s less than two days since we left Luang Prabang and yet already it seems like aeons ago, so much have we seen and experienced since then. Luang Prabang beguiled us both, and it was with dragging heels that we left Sayo River Guesthouse and turned north up Route 13 yesterday morning. Next stop Udomxai.

Having conquered the worst stretch of Route 13 the day before, we set off with increased confidence in our new-found mountaineering skills. Udomxai was only 100 miles away and we had been assured that the road was good. Slightly baffling was the fact that public buses take over four hours to cover this relatively short distance. Yet rather than making us suspicious of what lay ahead, we just put it down to the spluttering, bronchitic old buses and not the road conditions.

The first 60 miles flew by. I lounged in the back and admired the beautiful country slipping by, and Jo skilfully navigated the road north. We’d practically be in Udomxai for lunch at this rate. But in the blink of an eye everything changed: the corners got sharper, the hills steeper and the potholes more prolific. And the road signs disappeared completely. As we rounded one particularly fearsome bend, we were met by huddled groups of people sitting in the road—monks, women, children, old men. Behind them was the bus that was supposed to be taking them to Vientiane, clinging to the edge of the mountain, miraculously held there by a tangle of plants and trees. Only 20 minutes before the driver had lost control on the corner and narrowly escaped killing all. Terrifying. I should think those monks said a special prayer to Buddha last night.

After stopping to see whether everyone was OK and whether there was anything we could do, we tukked off, driving even more carefully than before. In the end we didn’t tuk into our destination until 4 p.m., over five hours after we left Luang Prabang. We had covered 130 miles and, having had no lunch and little water, felt totally exhausted.

If you’re contemplating a holiday to Udomxai, think again. It really is the armpit of Laos, a strange Chinese-Lao trading post teeming with Chinese construction workers and half-finished buildings. Rain, bedbugs, a plague of mosquitoes, extreme tiredness and then insomnia made for a wholly unpleasant night, and in more driving rain we set off for the Chinese border this morning.

We thought the roads yesterday were bad. As we drove the last 60 miles to Boten, I found myself thinking repeatedly, incredulously, that this was Laos’s main artery, the principal thoroughfare linking it with China and Thailand. Yet a few miles north of Udomxai the road almost disappeared altogether. It took us over four hours to reach Boten in conditions that would test the most hardy 4×4. Once again, Ting Tong excelled herself. We love Ting Tong.

About five miles before the Chinese border, the road suddenly improved, an omen of things to come we assumed. At the border we were met by Sam, our guide from the CSITS. TT had her Chinese plates attached, we underwent a health check to ensure we were fit to enter the country, and we were in. Sam seems lovely, really relaxed and helpful. Thank goodness, as the three of us are going to be coexisting in very close proximity for the next few weeks.

Laos—what an amazing place. We spent a mere six days cutting a hot pink swathe through its middle, but it is definitely somewhere we both want to return to. The Hmong, whose much talked-of ‘rebels’ stalked our imagination up Route 13, turned out to be one of the most fascinating aspects of the country. Their remote mountain villages were incredible, and at the risk of sounding occidental and patronising it was extraordinary to find bare-breasted women in tribal garb wandering down the main road of the country. I was so curious about these people of whom I had heard so many rumours that I did some research and discovered that Hmong means ‘free’ and that for hundreds of years these fiercely independent people have fought to preserve their autonomy—hence, their isolated mountain dwellings and warlike reputation. Such brave fighters were they that the USA enlisted their help in the Vietnam debacle, with the Hmong providing 99 per cent of their ground forces in Laos. In return for their efforts, they were promised a homeland. Of course, this never materialised and after the fall of Saigon the USA abandoned their brave allies to face the revenge of the winning communists. Out of an estimated pre-war population of 3 000 000, fewer than 200 000 made it to safety across the Mekong.

The persecution persists today, with the Laos government forcing the Hmong people from their mountain villages in order to police them more closely. I recommend everyone to visit a Hmong village and hang out with some of these ‘rebels’ before they are assimilated entirely.

So here we are in China, in some random town 40 miles north of the border. Jo and I are so flummoxed by the whole place that at supper we just sat and gawped at the otherness of it all. Even the Coke cans are weird. Thank goodness we’ve got Sam with us, otherwise we’d get very confused and probably end up starving and very lost.

Monday 12 June, Juang Ha Hotel, Simao, Yunnan Province, China

The very long way round

China, it seems, has been sent to test us. The past two days have been, to put it mildly, challenging. When we left Laos we felt sure that we had just conquered the worst roads we would encounter in our entire tukathon. The gleaming tarmac of the last five miles to the Chinese border seemed an omen of things to come. How wrong we were. As soon as we were over the border, the roads deteriorated once again. This time there was a total absence of solid surface, and what was supposed to be a road was in fact a filthy quagmire.

We were scheduled to drive 125 miles that night to Jinhong, but instead we made it only 40 miles to Mengla. Yesterday was even worse. The 85 miles to Jinhong took us an excruciating six hours. By lunchtime, Sam, a non-smoker for the past three years, was cracking into a packet of cigarettes. By mid-afternoon, the packet was nearly empty and a stream of English expletives was emerging from his normally clean mouth.

It’s hard to describe quite how bad the roads are in Yunnan. They make Laos’s Route 13 seem like the M25. Not only that, but we have to fight with literally hundreds of vast construction lorries, all of us after the narrow sliver of passable road on each stretch. I was so frustrated yesterday I wanted to jump out and pummel the potholes with my bare fists in fury, shout, scream and stamp my feet. Not that this would have achieved anything…but it might have made us feel better. By the time we arrived in Jinhong last night, we were filthy, tired, hungry and in need of a mechanic. Ting Tong’s leaking front suspension had got significantly worse, and Anuwat had advised us to go and get the front shocks replaced.

So, rather than having the relaxed evening we were desperately in need of, we spent seven hours sitting on the pavement outside a mechanic’s, Ting Tong resting her muddy haunches on jacks, while five men battled with fitting her new suspension. At 1.30 a.m. they finally won the battle and we tukked back to our hotel, safe in the knowledge that this morning we would be cruising along the expressway to Kunming.

But oh no, such was not to be. Our arrival at the shiny new tollgates of the Kunming expressway was met with shaking heads and a flurry of men in uniform. We were ordered to turn round and go to the police station, where no end of persuading, pleading and stubbornness could change their minds. Three-wheelers and Chinese expressways are mutually exclusive concepts, and it seems nothing we could say was going to change that. Dejectedly, we turned round and turned on to the old road. What should have taken us one hour today took us six.

The implications of not being allowed on the expressways here are massive. We have 28 days to travel 4375 miles across China, and our £6500 itinerary was arranged by the CSITS on the premise that we would be speeding along throughout on these perfect new roads. The alternatives are old, disused, windy mountain roads, littered with rocks and potholes. Enough to make any tuk tuk turn a funny shade of green. Of course, we are not going to accept this without a fight, and we are trying to mobilise the powers that be to give us special dispensation. But China is the worst place in which to attempt any bending of bureaucracy, and we could be facing up to double our planned tuk across China. Unbelievable! This makes both our Kazakh and Russian visas invalid and causes a whole host of problems. Jo and I have both been devising plans to give Ting Tong an extra wheel.

Sam not only is smoking again but also has developed a gallbladder problem and a total loss of appetite. Then again, we never thought this would be a glitch-free adventure, and Jo and I are both determined to succeed. The more challenges we face, the more determined we become.

Just to top it off, our satellite modem refuses to work, as does our mobile phone. But at least Sam is a total dude and China is an endlessly, fascinating, utterly weird place.

Over to Jo…

Despite the hardships of the past few days, I really do love China. The people are friendly, the food is good and the scenery that we have got to appreciate at about 6 mph has been spectacular. Before we got here, I had an image of China in my mind and our experiences so far have been that image to a T—terraced paddy fields and vast tea plantations, punctuated by rolling green hills. One advantage of the roads we have been forced to travel down is that we are going the scenic route. I have learnt to appreciate this from my childhood: given a choice, Dad would always choose the scenic option. The consequences for us are that each day takes five hours longer than it should and leaves us two days behind schedule. At this rate we will be driving through China for at least the next year and should be fluent in Mandarin and about £60 000 in debt.

I am a strange creature: if something small happens, I go off the handle, e.g. if I lose my cigarette lighter or miss a programme on TV. However, if something big happens, then I tend to be far more calm and rational, e.g. this whole China business. I tend to compare a big situation in my life to a big situation in the life of someone else who is less fortunate than myself, e.g. people in the world who are hungry because they don’t have enough money to eat. Yes, our current situation is very frustrating, but we are alive and well and it is not the end of the world. We will still make it back to Brighton and raise £50 000 for Mind, and this slight delay will not affect that outcome. Anyway, Ants is on the case with her contacts, and we may yet get to drive down the glistening, smooth, beautiful black tarmac.

I honestly didn’t believe that the roads could be worse than in Laos, but they are. At one point today, I really wasn’t sure whether we could make it through a particularly rough patch of rocks (we have upgraded from stones to full-on rocks). What made it even more irritating was that our route ran right next to the expressway—you could almost smell the smooth tarmac. This form of torture happened intermittently throughout our six-hour drive, as we would often cross or drive next to the expressway. Still, if you don’t laugh you cry, and we certainly had a few laughs along the way. PMA (positive mental attitude)!

Sam assures us that the roads will improve as we tuk north. We can only hope this is true. Thank goodness for the presence and company of Sam, who is an absolute legend. He has been very patient, level-headed and constructive since we met him, as well as being a really nice person with whom it is very easy to spend time. I only hope that this trip is not causing him too much stress, although his smoking and lack of appetite seem to suggest that he is feeling the strain a bit. He has assured us that this will be the first and last time a tuk tuk travels through China driven by foreigners.

As I mentioned previously, we are now two days behind schedule and tomorrow we need to try and cover 350 miles north to Kunming, capital of Yunnan. This would be possible on the expressway, but on our proposed route I think it is about as likely as me physically sprouting whiskers.

Last night was an interesting test of endurance, as we watched the wonderfully persistent mechanics struggle with TT’s front shocks. We are so grateful for their persistence, otherwise Anuwat might have had to fly out here to sort out TT himself. She now has her new shocks and springs and is no longer leaking hydraulic fluid. As we were driving today, the new springs made us bounce around the driving seat like we were sitting on a pogo stick, which looked very amusing from the back seat.

An interesting and surprising fact that I gleaned today is that, in China, men are phoned up in their hotel rooms and asked if they want a special massage. My mouth dropped to the floor when I found out exactly what a special massage involves. Personally I think it is a bit sexist, but we now unplug our phone every night, so that we are not awoken from our much-needed beauty sleep and offered the special treatment.

Thursday 15 June, Camellia Hotel, Yunnan Province, China

Testing times

The past few days have been a blur of bad roads and blue construction lorries. Yesterday we covered 200 miles in 11 hours, and the day before 175 miles in ten hours. Even if you are as bad at maths as I am, you can work out that that is a painfully slow average speed. With another 3750 miles to go in China, we could be here a very long time.

Despite the British embassy’s help, the transport office has said a big fat ‘no’ to Ting Tong using the expressways. We have heard from several sources that the Chinese government is terrified of anything happening to foreigners, hence their refusal to bend the law. Apparently a lot of accidents happen on these roads—Sam said that last month there was a pile-up killing 30 people. Who knows? Maybe it is for the best and the expressway would have been dangerous, but at the moment it’s just frustrating. While we crawl along in second and third gear on roads used only by water buffalo, goats, mule carts and the odd tractor, streams of blue Dong Feng lorries speed past us on the adjacent expressway. The mothertruckers.

The solution is uncertain at the moment. Put bluntly, we are in China and we’ve got to get to Kazakhstan, by 7 July if possible. The CSITS is proposing that we drive in excess of 200 miles a day for the next 24 days straight. Given the evidence of the past few days, this isn’t going to be possible. So we find ourselves in a sticky situation. And no, we are not going to put TT on the back of a train or lorry. That would be cheating.

Jo and I are still in shock at the condition of the roads in China—well, in Yunnan Province anyway. Yesterday we arrived in Kunming,‘the city of eternal spring’ and capital of Yunnan, home to five million people and one of China’s largest cities. Yet only three miles from the centre, the road was no more than a dusty track, riven with deep holes. Trucks, pony carts, tuk tuks (or ‘bom boms’, as they call them here), motorbikes and bicycles all bumped along at 10 mph in a cloud of dust. You should have seen the state of us and TT when we arrived at our hotel. Grubby doesn’t even begin to describe it.

However, it’s certainly not all bad. Yunnan is absolutely breathtaking, a magic place. The roads may be bad, but they are flanked by awe-inspiring scenery: mountains wreathed in tea and rice terraces, banana plantations and pine forests. If we weren’t under such time pressure we would be delighted to be taking these roads and not the expressway—you see much more of the real China this way. We also have the endless amusement of people’s reactions to not only westerners driving past, but westerners in a pink tuk tuk. Reactions range from bewilderment to hysterical screams and gaping mouths. We even had one lorry full of construction workers hollering ‘I love you!’ at us.

Sam, on the other hand, is finding the whole experience mortifyingly embarrassing. His most frequent expression is ‘Preease, save my face’. In other words, stop embarrassing me. This is normally provoked by our mid-afternoon outbursts of hysteria, when we start singing (’Ting Tong merrily on high’ is a current favourite) and generally behaving in a puerile manner. There have also been a few occasions when, erm, nature called and we simply had to pull over by the side of the road. Sam was appalled, but when you gotta go…The fact that we are travelling in a tuk tuk is also a source of constant humiliation for him. In China everyone wants brand-new SUVs—a tuk tuk is something reserved for poor rural areas and he cannot understand our choice of vehicle. Even worse is travelling in a dirty tuk tuk, and most mornings we find him, sponge in hand, fervently washing the layer of mud and dust off TT. Poor Sam: I think he might be in a straitjacket by the end of his two weeks with us.

So, times are hard but all is OK and the adventure is truly in full swing. The past few days have been very, very tough but we never expected it to be easy. We’re off to the Stone Forest at Shilin today, and we hope that in the next day or two the CSITS will come up with a solution.

Happy Thursday everyone.

Friday 16 June, Shilin, Yunnan Province, China

The Stone Forest

The past three days have consisted of driving, sitting in the back of TT and sleeping in hotel rooms. For me, the days seem to blur into one long drive punctuated by different but same-same Chinese cities. The advantages of this are twofold: we get to see some amazing scenery rather than flying down the expressway and we get to stay in cities that are very Chinese and not frequented by foreigners. The disadvantages are that we are very tired and under constant pressure to make up the time that we have lost from driving at an average of about 20 mph. We are currently three days behind on our proposed itinerary.

We now know for definite that we cannot drive on the expressways during our time in China, which is pretty soul-destroying. Consequently, our average speed is reduced by at least half. We are hoping that the CSITS will give us a ten-day extension on our Chinese permits, as driving for 11 hours a day is not practical or safe.

Today we tried to pull a slightly cheeky one and sneak on to the expressway. We stopped at the tollgate and a queue of vehicles pulled up behind us. The lady at the toll booth was unsure of what to do with us and immediately called her managers. The cars and trucks behind us started beeping frantically and one driver looked at us with pure fury in his eyes. After about five minutes, they all started to reverse and enter at a different entrance. In the end we were told that our ploy had failed because there were some police just down the road and we would get in serious trouble with them when spotted. So Ants had to reverse TT back into the flow of oncoming traffic and we had to carry on and find the old road. Oh well, at least we tried.

At about 4 p.m. we arrived at our hotel at the Stone Forest, unloaded and then actually had time to go for a walk and be proper tourists. The Stone Forest is a huge area filled with amazing natural karst limestone rocks and trees, like nothing I have ever seen and quite spectacular. The rocks have been there for 270 million years and their structure (jagged, narrow and spear-shaped) has resulted from millions of years of natural erosion, the retreating ice age and earthquakes. The earthquakes have made some of the rocks look like someone has glued an extra piece to the top, where the rock has fractured. There were quite a few other tourists, all of whom were Chinese. We took some very cheesy photos (well, I did) and ended up buying some authentic handmade articles from the local Yi people, a minority in China to which our guide belongs. A very weather-beaten old woman wearing local dress offered us some aprons and bags for sale. I bought an apron and have been proudly wearing it all evening. I think the locals think it is a bit strange.

We then spent an hour tasting teas unique to Yunnan Province and purchased two different varieties, one that is good for digestion and the other for the liver and general wellbeing. Then we went out for a meal with Sam and the lady who had sold us the tea, and we enjoyed the best meal we have eaten in China. It was absolutely delicious. I honestly believe that some of the best food you will eat in a country like this is not in posh restaurants and five-star hotels but at small local restaurants.

Today has been the best day so far in China, apart from the fact that I feel sad, as one of my ferrets had to be put to sleep. Pebbles had been poorly before I left and I hadn’t expected her to survive while we were away, but of course I hoped that she would be OK. Her adopted mother Lara did a great job, giving her a happy extra month of life, and I am so grateful that she took the decision not to let Pebbles suffer. There have been a few tears shed, and last night my snuggle blanket and Ants got well and truly cried on. I feel guilty that I wasn’t with Pebbles when she most needed me. Mum and Dad have arranged for her to be cremated and they will scatter the ashes in the back garden between where Zed and Amber (two that died last year) are buried. Death is very strange and is one of my biggest fears. I am not scared so much of my own death but of the death of the people I love, particularly my parents and my brother. I feel like if they died my life would be over. Whenever anyone I love dies, whether it is a human or animal, I think a small part of me dies that will never be replaced. Anyway, enough misery, because I am going to start crying again. A lump has developed in my throat and I don’t want to cry any more.

Saturday 17 June, Huanguoshu Waterfall, Guizhou Province, China

‘Welcome to China—country under construction’

We are now in a hotel in Huanguoshu, where there is a very large waterfall that is supposed to be one of the key highlights of this province, Guizhou. We arrived too late to enter during daylight and were lucky enough for them to be doing a night lightshow. So we had some supper and descended 559 (Ants counted them as we ascended) steps to see the waterfall illuminated by green floodlights. I have never seen a waterfall by night and it was quite impressive—I actually think we enjoyed the experience more than we would if we had seen it during daylight.

Back to the past two days of driving.

The roads seem to have improved since we left Yunnan. Rather than being bad all of the time, they are now just bad some of the time. Today’s drive had mostly good tarmac, but we were slowed down by the steep and windy mountainous roads. TT has a front disc brake and back drum brakes. The disc brake is a motorcycle brake and is used for the majority of our braking power. This is not ideal when we are descending steep windy roads. Rather than speeding up between corners, we have to keep TT in third gear and use the engine as our main brake. This is not a criticism of her construction, because it is the only way that she could be built.

Yesterday was possibly our most challenging day, although I didn’t find it as mentally tough as the driving last week. Our accelerator pedal had been feeling increasingly stiff and we were worried that it may snap. Lo and behold, I was driving down the road, the cable snappped and we ground to a halt. We were right out in the sticks, with the nearest form of civilisation 20 minutes away. I phoned Anuwat in Bangkok and he told me it was really easy to fix and that we needed to find a spare cable, unscrew the front seat and get access to the engine. Thank goodness Anuwat had sent us on our way with two full boxes of spares. We located the cable and Anuwat then told me that I needed to find the carburettor, to which I replied ‘I don’t know what the fucking carburettor looks like’, which he found absolutely hysterical. We toyed with the idea of hitching a lift to the next town and getting a mechanic to come and help us, but because Anuwat said it was easy to fix I was determined that we should try without help. The next two-plus hours were spent on our hands, knees and backs removing the old cable and putting in a new one. We then had to make sure the tension was correct and cut it to size, so that it did not dangle on the floor. Eventually we succeeded, a combined effort from Ants, myself and Sam. It was with great trepidation that I started the engine and drove off, unaware whether the tension would be OK. To our great relief TT was driving like a dream. In the next town we asked a mechanic to check our handiwork, and he said it was fine. I cannot tell you how satisfying doing our own mechanical repairs was, even though it left us with many hours still to drive. If we had to do the same job again it would probably take just 20 minutes.

Our day ended with a tropical downpour. The rain was like nothing we get in England—it was like having buckets of water thrown at you from all angles. I hate getting wet. When I was a child I would cry if my feet got wet. When the rain started, Sam and I got out and put down the back rain covers, with me holding a limp and useless umbrella over my head. We hoped the rain would pass, but it got stronger and stronger, until everything in the back was soaked and I decided to get out again and put down all of the covers. I screamed at the top of my lungs and got soaked to the bone. Ants was driving, and it was dark, pissing with rain and really windy. We eventually made it to the hotel at 9 p.m. It was a town that I doubt sees any westerners. We parked TT, emerged sopping wet and staggered into the hotel. I think they could hardly believe their eyes.

I have decided to get a T-shirt made that reads ‘China: Under Construction’. It seems like most of the roads and buildings here are undergoing some kind of structural alterations.

Over to Ants…

This country really should welcome all visitors with a sign saying ‘Welcome to China—country under construction’. Everywhere you go a plague of blue Dong Feng lorries blights the countryside, the beginnings of new expressways march across the mountains and piles of rubble litter the roadside. You cannot drive more than ten miles without being met by queues of honking traffic waiting to pass a motley crew of roadworkers, smoking cigarettes and ostensibly improving the roads. It gives true meaning to the phrase ‘developing country’.

The past few days have, as Jo has aptly illustrated, been incredibly tough. We covered 170 miles in eleven hours yesterday, and 150 miles in nine hours today. Yesterday was hellish: not only did we have to deal with fixing the accelerator cable (when Jo yelled down the phone to Anuwat, I thought we were in deep trouble), but also we got totally drenched by the most violent tropical rainstorm I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. So suddenly was it upon us that by the time Jo had bravely leapt out to put down the rain covers, we, and all our stuff, were drenched. All I cared about was the DV camera, which we wrapped in my tropical poncho and saved from a watery grave. You should have seen the faces of the people at our hotel last night as a pink tuk tuk pulled up and three sodden individuals crawled out. Jo’s T-shirt slogan, ‘What the fook fook is a tuk tuk?’, summed up the situation perfectly. However, the comically bad karaoke—a feature in every hotel here—soon had us laughing hysterically and forgetting the hardships of 11 hours on the road.

We now find ourselves in Guizhou Province. A traditional saying states that here there are ‘No three days without rain, no three hectares without a mountain and no three coins in any pocket’. They also have a predilection for eating dog, which has me looking at every dog wondering whether it is dinner or a pet. We’ve already experienced some of the region’s famous karst landscape, and the roads today have taken us through some incredible mountains, rice terraces and lakes dyed electric green by the limestone. As for the roads, they are definitely better than Yunnan’s but still hard work. The potholes are smaller but the S-bends just as challenging. Having said that, we did encounter a stretch of road this morning where I had to hang off the side of Ting Tong to balance her as Jo navigated some particularly deep rain-filled potholes.

The roads may be better, but the driving is still totally bonkers. Our ‘best’ stretch of road yesterday was perhaps the scariest we have encountered: buffalo carts doing U-turns on to the carriageway, trucks coming straight at us down the wrong side of the road, and upturned nails where temporary speed bumps once were. You can’t afford to lose concentration for a nanosecond. I still can’t work out why so many people here seem to favour driving the wrong way down dual carriageways or going round roundabouts backwards.

One final thing: the loos here are the worst I have ever encountered—think Glastonbury, day three, and you are almost there. I nearly vomit every time I have to use one, much to Jo’s amusement. She certainly has a stronger stomach than I have.

Monday 19 June, Louzhou, Sichuan Province, China

Grubby tukkers

Another day, another 200 miles covered, and after eight hours spent tailing Dong Fengs belching black smoke we are absolutely filthy.

War nearly broke out between the mothertruckers and the mothertukkers this afternoon. We’ve almost become accustomed to the driving here, the penchant for overtaking round the blindest corners, the neither-a-look-to-the-left-nor-to-the-right before pulling out, the constant near-misses. But one Dong Fenger today really took the biscuit. As he roared past us, nearly sending Ting Tong and contents off a rocky precipice, I made the error of giving him the finger. The sight of an angry white arm appearing out of a mobile pink Wendy house obviously riled him for as soon as he passed us he, while driving, opened the door of his truck, leant out and shook his fists in fury. Unluckily for us, a tollgate appeared one mile later and, as we pulled up, the still-seething trucker leapt out of his lorry and marched over to Ting Tong, gesticulating wildly and shouting what I can only assume wasn’t ‘Welcome to China, have a nice day’. I seriously thought he might punch me, and he probably would have done if a burly security guard hadn’t restrained him. He did, however, manage to unzip his trousers and reveal a pair of red Y-fronts and all therein before Jo finally paid the toll and we zoomed off. I spent the next 40 miles quaking with fear, remembering that film Duel, waiting for the offended trucker to appear on our tail and force us off the edge of the mountain. I guess it’s all down to cultural relativism—driving that is totally acceptable here would lose you your licence in the UK in two minutes. So he probably thought my finger was unjustified, while I saw our lives flashing before my eyes.

We’re in Louzhou tonight, which is big, polluted and very hot. Sam has left us to our own devices so we’re off to explore and, we hope, not get lost or fed dog by accident.

Monday 19 June, Louzhou, Sichuan Province, China

China rocks

Things I like about China:

• the people
• the food
• the scenery

Things I dislike about China:

• the driving conditions
• the public lavatories

So, overall, China gets a big thumbs-up and we seem to be settling into a routine of getting up and driving for long hours without too many grumbles. It would be nice to have a day off at some point in the next three weeks, but if we don’t it won’t destroy us. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and if you don’t laugh you cry. Oh, how I love clichés.

Yesterday we visited Zhijin caves, which were absolutely breathtaking. They must be one of the most impressive cave systems in the world. The caves are eight miles long, although I think we covered about half that distance. I have never seen such large stalactites and stalagmites—some must have been about 60 feet tall. I also learnt a new thing about limestone rock formations created by dripping water: when a stalactite and stalagmite join together, it is called a stalacto-stalagmite. The rocks were amazing shapes, with many looking like large jellyfish. We passed through different levels of the cave and eventually came upon the huge main cavern, which was at least the size of a football pitch. I worried about a stalactite falling from the roof and causing an ignominious death for us both. I informed Ants that I thought it would be a very painless death and that it would make a good article in a newspaper. I then put on Ants’ iPod, which inspired me to start cave dancing in a rather peculiar manner. What I had failed to realise was that a security guard was walking right behind me as I shook my little booty.

I thought I smoked too much, but the Chinese really put me to shame. I am not sure how the roads ever get built as there always seems to be someone having a cigarette break. They also smoke while riding motorbikes, which I am sure is quite dangerous as it wouldn’t be hard for the ash to go in the biker’s eyes, making them lose concentration and end up under the wheels of one of the Dong Feng army. You seem to be able to smoke everywhere in China—apart from the lifts. There are notices in all hotel rooms advising against smoking in bed, for obvious reasons. That reminds me: in our hotel room today, it is possible to buy a packet of blue pills, which I am sure must be the Chinese equivalent of Viagra. I suppose the population didn’t reach over a billion for no reason.

Today we were on the road for nine hours, which included an hour for lunch. We must be getting used to the long hours, because it was OK. Apart from Ants’ incident with the rather cross Dong Feng driver, there were no problems. Two strange things we saw today included a dead foal strapped to the back of a motorbike and a dead dog being dragged along the road by a small child—pet or lunch?

Tomorrow we are getting TT serviced. I will watch carefully so that I learn how to do the oil filter and air filter myself. I will change the front brake pad but get a motorcycle mechanic to check my handiwork. Changing the oil is something we will let a mechanic deal with, because they can dispose of the old oil safely and we cannot. Also, we think her accelerator is starting to stiffen again so will get the mechanic to check that too.

That’s all folks. Time for bed, as another long day beckons and the tired tukkers need their beauty sleep.

Tuesday 20 June, Leshan, Sichuan Province, China

Giant Buddhas

A real quickie from Leshan, where we’ve got five minutes in an Internet café to try and sort out our revised itinerary with the CSITS, before hitting the road to not-sure-where. We’re supposed to be going to a holy mountain called Emei Shan today, but we are both in need of a sleepathon, not mountain climbing, so are going to see where we get to. Jo said the other day that the tiredness is cumulative, and she’s right: every day you feel just a little bit less like getting up and a little bit more like sleeping for a week or two. Caffeine and cigarette intake is on the increase in a big way.

Leshan is home to the biggest stone Buddha in the world. He’s pretty impressive and the mind boggles as to how they made him back in 820. Jo bought an apron off an old Yi lady in Shilin the other day and is insisting on wearing it most of the time. Sam’s embarrassment is complete.

Friday 23 June, Pingwu, Sichuan Province, China

Pingwu the Penguin

Yesterday we had a day off (whoohoooooo) in Chengdu, but we were both too exhausted to appreciate it fully. We were planning on going to a Chinese opera/martial arts/drama show in the evening, but Ants put herself to bed and I got lost for an hour and wandered the streets looking at my Rough Guide for clues as to my whereabouts.

We left Chengdu this morning and TT had her front brake pad changed, which cost a measly 70 pence. I watched closely and will perhaps do them in the future.

Tonight we are in Pingwu, which we insist on calling Pingu, like the penguin. It is very Chinese and I doubt they get many tourists here. The roads today were brilliant—pure tarmac—and our average speed has increased to just over 25 mph. It doesn’t sound much, but it makes the driving so much more bearable.

We are off to the hotel now for an early night. Ants and I are sleeping in separate rooms tonight because neither of us is sleeping well and apparently I snored like a real man last night. My mother would be proud.

Tuesday 27 June, Lanzhou, Gansu Province, China

Linjian’s little surprise

18 days into our Chinese tukathon and we’ve reached the halfway point in this never-ending country. As you can probably tell by the absence of blogs in the past week, we’ve had our foot flat to the floor, driving on average ten hours a day. If we didn’t have a logbook, I would find it very hard to remember where we have been or what day or date it is. It all melds into one long bumpy road.

After our encounter with the giant Buddha in Leshan, we headed for Chengdu, capital of Sichuan Province and home to around ten million people. We gave Emei Shan, the holy mountain we were supposed to climb, a swerve and opted instead for a much-needed day off.

Some day off. The CSITS insisted we went to extend our visas, saying it would take an hour. So we hung around, filled in forms and waited some more, only to be told after wasting about four hours that in fact we would have to wait five days to get our passports back. We were not amused. It was our first day off in 12 days, we were desperate to explore the city and just chill out. Our plans had been scuppered once again by the CSITS. And guess what? Chengdu’s piéce de résistance, Tianfu Square, looked upon by a towering statue of Chairman Mao, was a pile of rubble, apparently due to the construction of a new metro system.

For the next few days we headed further north through Sichuan. The beautiful mountains of Yunnan and Guizhou were replaced by a stream of filthy towns, shrouded in a noxious cloak of pollution, some places no more than mountains of bricks and half-knocked-down houses. I feel so sorry for the people who live in these towns, victims of China’s frenetic quest for development, living in places that looked like they have been caught in a blitzkreig.

After the pollution and filth of central Sichuan came Gansu, where we currently are. Traditionally viewed as a buffering zone between China and the barbarians beyond, Gansu is a huge province that goes from Lanzhou in the east to Dunhuang in the west.

Driving into Gansu felt like entering a different country. The manicured hills of Yunnan and Guizhou were replaced by rugged, scree-laden peaks. Hints of Muslim culture began to appear, and the air became dry and stifling. And Gansu had a special surprise in store for us.

On Friday evening, after 11 hours on the road, the afternoon tuk fever and hysteria set in. With me at the wheel, Jo launched into singing ‘nee hao’ (‘hello’), in perfect operatic tones, to all lucky passers-by. Whether toiling in the fields, selling watermelons by the side of the road or just strolling into town, they all got treated to Jo’s dulcet tones. Sam hid under his map in embarrassment, trying unsuccessfully to contain his laughter, and I tried to drive straight while weak all over from laughing. It really was hilarious. The zenith came as we drove slowly through a small town called Linjian. Tens of Dong Feng trucks were pulled up by the roadside and crowds of people milled around. We assumed it was dinnertime and everyone had stopped for their rice and noodles. Jo continued her operatic offerings, safe in the knowledge that we would never see these people again. As we rounded a corner, we saw the cause of the crowds—a vast landslide blocking a 100-foot section of the road. We soon discovered there had been not one but two earthquakes, causing the landslide as well as destroying some houses. There was no escape. It was 8 p.m., all the hotels were full, everyone had abandoned their houses for fear of an aftershock, and the only other road to Wudu—which lay tantalisingly close at 30 miles away—was a 200 mile diversion along dirt tracks. The only option was to wait until they cleared the path. It could be the next day, it could be in two days.

What followed was by far the funniest night we have had in China so far. Ting Tong and her inhabitants became an instant source of amusement for the locals, and we spent the night at a karaoke bar, drinking far too much beer with the local lads. Sleeping on the pavement wasn’t quite so much fun, but hey, it’s all part of the adventure. Amazingly, by noon the next day, one ancient digger and some dynamite had cleared the road and we were off again.

Yesterday was another massive day of driving—12 hours on the road, 230 miles covered. The long hours were alleviated by the incredible beauty of the country we were passing through. Magic. Mountains rose up on either side of the road, so perfectly green it was as if some ancient being had cast a giant velvet cloak over their shoulders. Funny yak-like creatures, wild horses and goats grazed in flower-strewn meadows. And to top it all off, we ended the day by driving into a perfect sunset. However long and tiring the days are, scenes like this cannot help but lift the spirits. That’s not to say I didn’t feel slightly deranged by fatigue by the time we arrived in Lintao last night.

So now we are in Lanzhou, where after 3500 miles of tukking north we turn Ting Tong west and head along the Silk Road for Central Asia and home. Our visas are being extended today and we are changing guides. Sam is being replaced by Jack, who hails from Urumqui. Sam was so relieved to make it through his tukathon he leapt out of Ting Tong this morning and embraced Jack like a long-lost brother. Sam’s been a funny one, oscillating between perfect charm and vile sulks. We hope Jack is a little less moody.

As for our Chinese solution—well there isn’t one. The CSITS can’t extend our permits and we can’t drive any harder than we currently are. There is no way we will make it out of China by 7 July, so we’ll just have to pray we don’t get whipped and sent to prison at the border.

A few random observations about China: at least 20 per cent of the cars are VW Santanas, ankle socks are all the rage, perms à la 1980s are the height of fashion, and the biggest crowd TT has pulled so far is 46. That was at a five-minute ice-cream stop yesterday. It is the most bizarre country and, although an endurance test, it’s been our favourite so far. Every day something makes us really laugh.

Earthquakes, congratulations and get well soon

The past week has been filled with lots of driving, but overall the road conditions are improving, with longer stretches of pure unadulterated tarmac and an average speed of 20 mph. When we occasionally get the chance to drive over 30 mph, it feels like TT is taking off, which is very strange.

TT is behaving herself but has developed a few little sounds—whistles, squeaks and groans. I interpret these as a form of communication and I think she is trying to sound like all the other Chinese vehicles. She had a good service and several mechanics have checked her over and assured us she is fine.

The highlights of the past few days include being stranded by an earthquake. We had been on the road for a good 11 hours and were within easy striking distance of our next town. Ants and I were both experiencing our silly hour and, as Ants has mentioned, I was singing ‘nee hao’ to every living creature we passed. I think the combination of this and two foreign girls in a bright-pink tuk tuk was too much to take in, and many jaws hit the floor. We passed through a town and I continued howling at crowds of locals, only to find our exit blocked by a landslide. There was no escape and the locals gathered around for a good look. I was slightly embarrassed that I would have to look people in the eye after singing to them.

Before bed, we met the local youths and enjoyed beer and karaoke with them. I agreed to do karaoke and was hoping for a Chinese song to sing ‘nee hao’to. Unfortunately, they found me a famous Chinese love song sung in English, which I had never heard before. I stood there like a total lemon, bum-bag strapped to my waist, and tried to sing the chorus. Amusing and confusing for everyone there, and horribly humiliating for me.

Bed for the night was the back of TT for me and the pavement for Mr Ant. Mr Ant was in a deep sleep but was awoken at 4 a.m. by one of the guys we had met at karaoke. He rapped on her head hard and then blabbered some Chinese nonsense to her. I found this highly amusing in the morning and Ants also managed to see the funny side.

I would like to say a big congratulations to my brother on getting a 2.1 in his media degree (he is the future Nick Broomfield) and get well soon to my darling ferret Shrimp, who has had a growth removed from his fat tummy.

Wednesday 28 June, Wuwei, Gansu Province, China

The first pink tuk tuk on the Silk Road?

Today we finally turned west and headed for the plains of Central Asia along the fabled Silk Road. It’s good to feel that we are, after five weeks of tukking north, finally heading for Europe and home.

We said goodbye to Sam this morning, who flew back home to Kunming to sleep for a week and celebrate his survival. So now we are in the capable hands of Jack, aged 26, from Urumqui. After a day with him we feel sure he is going to be lots of fun. Rather than cringing with embarrassment when we sing, or when Jo sprung into an impromptu Cossack dancing display in the middle of a quiet mountain road today, he joins in. Several cars stopped to view this latter strange scene, I whipped out the camera as per usual and then off we went. Now we are in Wuwei and tomorrow it is 150 miles to Zhangye.

Very amusingly, Jo just got an email from Mind saying we have been short-listed for Cosmopolitan’s Fun Fearless Female award, which is hilarious. Great for boosting our fundraising though—we are currently almost at £20 000 and so still have another £30 000 to go until we reach our target.

I was just thinking as we were driving today how wonderful it is to be travelling with Jo. Ever since an, erm, eventful five-day caravanning trip in Norfolk aged 17 (had a car crash, went to hospital, nearly blew up the caravan, evicted from the caravan park), we have wanted to go travelling together. University, jobs and Jo’s illness delayed us by ten years. I couldn’t wish for a better person to be doing this trip with. Jo makes me laugh hysterically every day, rarely gets crotchety and always makes me wear sunscreen. What more could I wish for? So thank you, ferret.

That’s all for today. Gansu continues to fascinate with its curious meld of Chinese and Muslim cultures, the mountains get more beautiful by the day and the fruit is incredible. Jack ate chicken’s feet for dinner, which he says are quite delicious. I’m not sure I agree.

North west for the British penguins

We are now heading westwards with our new guide Jack. He is a total dude, dances with me in the middle of the road and doesn’t mind us singing in public—in fact, he joins in. The only drawback is his fondness for chicken’s feet. They appear more meaty than I imagine, and Ants has dared me to try one. Not tonight, though, as I would like to keep my tasty supper in my stomach.

I will now explain the title of this blog. In Lanzhou, a couple of nights ago, we went for a wander in the rain, both sporting green ponchos to keep dry. The pavements here are very slippery when wet and our foot attire—flip-flops—didn’t have much grip. We both nearly went arse over tit a few times and realised that the only way to stay vertical was to shuffle along like a couple of penguins in single file. The thought of either of us suffering a broken limb was enough to reduce our walk to the pace of a crawling baby, because if one of us breaks a bone, the other would have to drive the whole way back to England—I can tell you that this is our idea of a nightmare.

The highlight of today was driving alongside a ruined section of the Great Wall. It is not how you might imagine it, since for the most part it is in a pretty tatty state. Sometimes it continued undamaged for a mile and there were watchtowers (I assume) at quite close intervals. But it was still an imposing sight, and so tall and wide that old Genghis Khan must have found it a challenging obstacle. A special day.

Friday 30 June, Jiayuguan, Gansu Province, China

My new favourite food

Another day, another pair of underpants (as my friend Sarah Craig used to say at school). Today was a really good day. Not only were the roads brilliant, but also we visited the last fortress on the Great Wall, here at Jiayuguan.

We set off this morning at the leisurely hour of 9.30 a.m., which is a very late start for us. The tarmac was beautiful (Ants and I are keen tarmac enthusiasts) and we covered 62 miles in less than two hours. This kind of distance has not been covered in such a short time since Thailand. I felt quite euphoric and we stopped for a cup of coffee in a petrol station to celebrate. The roads became slightly less smooth when Ants took over, but we were still travelling at 35 miles, which is the speed limit here in China for a three-wheeler.

The beauty of not taking the expressways has become apparent to us, and we now look down on those poor people who are stuck travelling at speeds in excess of 60 mph. Well, occasionally we are a little envious. The advantage of travelling on the older, slower roads is that we can stop whenever we want to take photos or have a short break. We travel through completely untouristy villages and towns, where we can stop and eat lunch. The local people are interested in TT and we are interested in them. It is a mutually beneficial relationship. However, we aren’t always impressed when they shake TT to test the suspension or get in the driving seat and start changing gears. We have a remote control that can start and stop the engine within a range of a couple of hundred feet. Sometimes we start the engine while we are eating lunch to give the assembled crowd a shock—it is quite funny watching 30 plus people jump—although not in a nasty way, and they always find it funny.

The title of this blog indicates that I have found a new favourite food here, and to celebrate I ate about one pound of it at supper. In Chinese restaurants in England we have toffee banana or apple; here, they have toffee potato. It sounds a strange combination, but it is delicious and great energy food. I think I could do my Cossack dancing for at least an hour after a plate of this stuff, although I haven’t tried yet. That reminds me: supper tonight was very amusing. We brought in our own beer and were drinking it from tiny teacups. The waitress came over and poured Chinese tea into Jack’s beer, which made us giggle. Then our food arrived—coriander salad (devil’s herb), cooked celery (double yuck), my new favourite food, a tofu dish and a fish Jack had chosen from its tank. Jack asked Ants whether she liked wasabi (Japanese mustard-based rocket fuel for the taste buds). She said she did, and so Jack poured the whole bowl of wasabi over Ants’ coriander salad. Ants took a large mouthful, went red and nearly choked, and tears poured from her eyes. We all collapsed into laughter and the waitress must have thought we were bonkers. The toffee potatoes had totally set, and we tried to prise them apart with a combination of chopsticks (useless), fingers (a little better), toothpicks (the best) and a knife and fork (success). Bits of toffee started flying everywhere…the table, the floor, on us. We laughed again and ate more toffee (i.e. pure sugar) than is probably good for us.

Our new guide Jack just highlights the differences between him and Sam. Jack is the sort of person with whom we would be mates back home; Sam was grumpy and somewhat uninspiring company. Jack always asks whether we slept well, what food we would like, etc. Sam never did any of this and would often keep us waiting ten-plus minutes in the morning because he was still asleep. Jack sings, dances, is funny and charming, and is a great person to be around. He is not as good at map-reading as Sam, but who cares? He is such a wicked guy and we hope he can come with us to the border. Currently, his boss is due to escort us out of China (I think to make sure we leave), but it is unsettling changing guides and why would we want someone new for two or three days when Jack fits our threesome so well?

Jiayuguan Fort was impressive, with incredibly steep walls that I am sure would have been very difficult for any enemy to penetrate. The views were inspiring in three directions: mountains, snow-capped peaks and desert. In the fourth direction you could see the town of Jiayuguan and four ugly power-plant chimneys. We finished our touristic duties with a trip to the Great Wall museum, which provided a detailed history of the Wall and various battles that were fought over the ages. By comparing notes with Jack, we realised that they had accidentally put the wrong length of the Wall in Chinese. Jack pointed this out to the museum staff and now it will be changed.

So, life is good with the tukkers. We still drive long days, but we have got used to it and six hours of driving feels like nothing. China has been an experience from day one, and I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else (Ants, I love you).

Tukking the Great Wall by storm

It’s funny to think that when Jo and I first got our Chinese itinerary from the CSITS we balked at the sight of a 350-mile day, imagining the horror of driving for eight hours. Now here we are, 21 days into China, and today, at six hours, was far and away our shortest day on the road. Even eight hours falls into the short-day bracket now, so used are we to arriving at our destination each night after upwards of ten hours’ tukking.

Since we left Lanzhou a few days ago we have been heading west, along the old Silk Road, more used to carrying precious caravans of silk and spices than Ting Tongs. Our route has taken us along the Hexi Corridor, a 600-mile stretch of land sandwiched between mountains to the south and the Gobi Desert to the north. For centuries this was the trading route between China and the West, the only way for goods and people to cross the cultural and geographical divide. Today, spanking new expressway stretches across the wilderness, a far cry from the camel caravans of ancient times, and Dong Feng trucks carry coal and other goods to Xinjiang and beyond. The Hexi Corridor is also famous for being the location of 625 miles of the Great Wall, which we saw yesterday for the first time.

This mythical wall, often incorrectly lauded as the only manmade structure visible from space, is always something I have imagined as a vast brick edifice. But the wall we encountered yesterday is no more than crumbling mud ramparts, barely distinguishable from the desert engulfing it. For most of the road between Wuwei and Zhangye, we tukked along beside this historic remnant, evocative even in its advanced state of disrepair. I feel sure that Ting Tong is the first pink tuk tuk to follow its path.

Today was equally impressive driving, the road continuing west through vast treeless expanses. Rearing up in the distance on our left were the snow-capped peaks of the Qilian mountains, to our right the endless horizon of the desert. Never before have I been somewhere so remote. It felt like driving to the edges of the universe. Which, to the Chinese, it is almost.

Jiayuguan, where we are now, has always been synonymous in Chinese culture with grim desolation, comparable to the outer edges of Siberia in the Russian psyche. Here lies the last fortress of the Great Wall, built in 1372 by the Ming dynasty. Looking out over its ramparts this afternoon, it was easy to imagine why this place has such connotations. Sand and snow-capped mountains filled the horizon and although the temperature was a scorching 34°C today, in winter the thermometer plunges to 20 below zero.

Thanks to Jack’s encouragement—Jo and I were both feeling tired and idle—we also took in the Great Wall museum. Did you know that the wall was begun in the seventh century bc, took over 2000 years to build, and during the time of the Ming dynasty needed a million men to guard its 15 600-mile length? No, neither did I. Quite amazing.

Tomorrow we continue further west, to Anxi. We’ve got to leave very early as for 150 miles of the 200 miles route there are roadworks, surprise, surprise! Then we hope to have a day off paragliding or dune-surfing in the desert. Double whooopeeee!

Sunday 2 July, Dunhuang, Gansu Province, China

Ting Tong hits the desert

At last, after 24 days of tukking, Jo and I are having a proper day off. Bliss. Moreover, Dunhuang couldn’t be a better spot to have it at. An oasis town, teetering on the edge of the Gashun Gobi Desert, Dunhuang is famous largely for the Mogao caves. Unless you are an aficionado of Buddhist art or the peregrinations of Aurel Stein, you probably won’t have heard of these. And I am slightly ashamed to admit that since the caves need the best part of a day to see, we’ve opted instead to go paragliding, sand-dune tobogganing and sun-lounging. I know: total philistines, the pair of us. If you want to know more about the Silk Road, Stein’s looting of the Mogao Treasures and the understandable chagrin of the Chinese, then I highly recommend Peter Hopkirk’s Foreign Devils on the Silk Road.

In a nutshell, the caves are one of China’s most important archaeological sites and house a vast collection of ancient Buddhist art and manuscripts. When the trading routes along the Silk Road dried up in the fourteenth century, the caves were sealed and it wasn’t until 1907 that Stein, a Hungarian secret agent/explorer in the employ of the British government, heard rumour of these newly rediscovered caves and brought over 7000 manuscripts back to Britain, where they still remain, languishing in the vaults of the British Museum. Anyway, I won’t waffle on about somewhere we haven’t even been.

Yesterday was an incredible day on the road. We got up at 6 a.m. (ugh!) and left soon after. Jo and I are both rubbish at getting up, and rising at such an ungodly hour was a feat in itself. Bleary-eyed, we packed up Ting Tong and headed for Dunhuang. The spectre of 150 miles of roadworks was large in our minds, but, thank God, Jack had got in with the locals the night before and heard of an alternative route. So, after only ten miles of construction, we turned left and headed into the desert. Ting Tong once again proved her super-tuk powers, trundling through deep sand and along gravel roads and dodging potholes. The miles ticked by…50, 100, 150…until finally, after 200 miles, we hit the most perfect bit of tarmac you could ever imagine. Not in my wildest dreams could I imagine that such a road existed in China. Perfect, black, smooth and straight as an arrow. So for the last 75 miles we sped through the desert, sand engulfing our vision on all sides, whooping with excitement at the state of the road. At 9.30 p.m. last night, after more than 14 hours’ tukking, Dunhuang loomed out of the desert sunset: we had arrived—275 miles and 14 hours later. Although fairly tired, Jo and I felt strangely elated at having completed such a huge distance, across such breathtaking land. There’s something about such wide open spaces that really lifts the spirits. We wondered, being as we felt this excited after a single day’s achievement, how we will feel when we arrive in Brighton. I have tried to imagine it so many times, but my imagination fails me. Only time will tell.

After unloading TT and checking into yet another identikit Chinese hotel, the three of us pottered down to the night market to have some tiffin. The further west we go, the less Chinese the food and culture becomes. The market last night was redolent of an Arabian souk rather than a Chinese street. Vendors sweated over shish kebabs and nearly all the men sported Muslim skullcaps. Sheep’s heads grinned in a macabre fashion from tables, and soon-to-be-barbecued fish took final laps of their tanks. While Jack and Jo feasted on various parts of a sheep’s anatomy, I ate veggie kebabs and garlic, omnipresent here. At every table is a bowl of peeled, raw garlic, and Jo and I have taken to munching through fistfuls of cloves every day, enough to kill a herd of vampires stone dead. I ate 15 yesterday, but only about six today. Crikey, we must smell.

Today has been such a treat. In 36°C heat, we’ve explored the market, bought the sweetest melons and apricots, drunk ginger beer in the sunshine, read, washed TT and done about every sand-based activity you can imagine. I’m sitting here now, smelling quite garlicky, with sand glued to my eyelashes and a 15-year-old hacking and phlegming enthusiastically on my right. Every Internet café in China is the same, rammed with sweaty teenagers avidly playing computer games, smoking and spitting on the floor. Nice.

One thing about China that constantly disappoints is the ‘scenic spots’. We’ve been to waterfalls, caves and now sand dunes, and none of them really excites. The Chinese have a special talent for taking a natural wonder and turning it into a plasticised (is that a word?) theme park. Today was a prime example. To see the sand dunes, which surround the city, you have to pay 80 yuan—about £6. Then to climb the sand dune on the back of a moody camel you have to pay another £5. At the top of that dune, you fork out another few pounds to toboggan down 150 feet of sand. Then if you want to go on a quad bike—which we did—you whip out another 100 yuan each. It’s a rip-off by UK standards, let alone Chinese ones. And every ‘scenic spot’ is exactly the same. By far the most beautiful places we’ve seen in China are the untouched mountains, paddies and deserts that have flanked our route, uninvaded by vendors and tourists and untarnished by the government’s extortionate entrance fees. However, grumble aside, the dunes were a laugh, and riding a camel down into Dunhuang at sunset was a memorable experience.

Tomorrow we reach Xinjiang, Jack’s province, one of China’s five autonomous provinces and home of the Uighur people. It’s a fascinating place bordered by Russia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Mongolia, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, India, Tibet and Gansu. A true cultural melting pot.

Sand dunes and beautiful tarmac

The past few days have been good. It’s hard to tell why we are both feeling more perky and positive, but it could be a number of reasons. Although we are still driving long hours (11 yesterday), we are having a lot of fun and not just crashing out, exhausted, after our two hours in the driving seat. Our new guide Jack could also be partly responsible for our happiness. He is great fun and together we have a real laugh during our long days. With Sam, you could tell he wasn’t happy if we stopped to take photos or have a coffee break. Jack has his own camera (old-school SLR) and is as happy as we are when good photo opportunities arise, such as when we drove next to the Great Wall the other day. Yesterday we had a short strawberry, cucumber, tomato and coffee break, which was very pleasant but ended in a messy food fight.

Another reason for feeling good is that we feel we have cracked China. During the first two weeks it was a real mental and physical struggle having to deal with the long hours, heavy traffic and terrible roads. Now we are heading west, driving longer distances and coping with it well. We will be leaving China in another week but would happily stay for longer to explore the remote north western provinces. Once we arrive in Kazakhstan, the pressure will reduce as we are no longer confined to a strict itinerary and can take a rest day if we need it.

Today was our first real day off in China, and at 11.30 a.m. I finally peeled myself from my bed. The climate here is very hot and dry—very good for sunbathing but not so good for charging around sightseeing—and so we relaxed under a tree and had a light lunch and some tea. I am now so used to Chinese tea that I think it will be strange to go back to English tea. I never thought I would say that—in England I drink about ten cups a day, with lots of milk and two sugars.

After lunch we went back to the hotel and planned to have a short rest before giving TT a bath. She is absolutely covered in mud and muck, in some places nearly an inch thick. We felt like we ought to go and see the Mogao caves today—the mind was willing but the body less so. As this was our first real break for nearly a month, we both felt like we should be taking it easy. We know that one day we will return to North West China and will then have the time and the energy to spend a full day exploring the caves and their Buddhist art.

This evening we headed to the 9 feet-high sand dunes four miles south of town. I have never seen such huge sand dunes, and they were really fantastic. They would have been even better if they had not been quite so touristy. We had to pay an entrance fee, money for our camel ride (too hard to walk up a steep sand dune, as Ants later discovered), money to go sand-tobogganing, money to go quad-biking, and then more money when the quad-bike dudes asked for a tip (cheeky monkeys). Still, we had a great time, got covered in sand and enjoyed having the spirit and energy to just be tourists and unwind.

Our camels were the two-humped Bactrian variety, but they had lost their shaggy brown winter coats and looked more like their one-humped cousins. Did you know that Bactrian camels have been domesticated for over 3000 years and that their wild brothers number only about 1500? I have just finished a brilliant book in which a British explorer tracked the migration route of the wild Bactrians right into this part of China. I could bore you with more Bactrian facts but I won’t…for now. I named my camel Pot Noodle and Ants called hers Clark Gable. We named Jack’s Sam!

Now a brief explanation about the title of this blog. The sand dunes have already been explained. The tarmac part occurred yesterday, as I drove TT the final 75 miles to Dunhuang on the most beautiful black, smooth, wide and deserted tarmac. It was an absolute pleasure for us all, and TT enjoyed flexing her three cylinders. Yesterday we drove 275 miles, a new Tuk to the Road record.

As we drove through some sand dunes yesterday, Ants commented that she had never seen a sand dune before. Ants lives in North Norfolk and goes walking on Holkham beach regularly, which is flanked by many sand dunes.

Wednesday 5 July, Turpan, Xianjiang Uighur Autonomous Province, China

Scorchio

It’s 42°C outside and after a morning of exploring in the scorching heat Jo and I have retreated indoors to blog and sort out Kazakhstan issues. We arrive at the border in six days and still have a few things to do in order to ensure the crossing goes smoothly and we have the correct documents and insurance. Kazakhstan has the potential to be our most difficult country: corruption is endemic, and even if we have everything in order there is nothing to say that we won’t be held up at the border by guards wanting to make a quick dollar. So we are going to be armed with letters from our embassy, our press release in Russian, newspaper clippings and a big smile…and pray that we don’t run into any problems. Olov, a Swedish guy we have been in touch with, recently crossed the same border point on a 1938 bike and sidecar he bought in Beijing. For no valid reason, the Kazakh border guards confiscated his bike and fined him a hefty $500 (£260). He has now hired a lawyer to sort out his problems and has advised us to go back to Beijing, cross into Mongolia and avoid Kazakhstan at all costs. Too late. So all we can do is cover everything and hope the guards are feeling charitable when we arrive.

Last night we arrived in Turpan, one of the old Silk Road cities, a manmade oasis inhabiting the second lowest point on the planet, at 250 feet below sea level. Only the Dead Sea lies at a lower depression. Such unusual topography means that the area has baking-hot summers and viciously cold winters: in July the average temperature is 39 °C, but in winter this plummets to -20 °C. Add to this the fact that there is no rainfall, and you wonder why people ever settled here at all. Water is provided by the ingenious Karez irrigation system, conceived over 2000 years ago, whereby water from the mountains and glaciers is channelled to the area via 3000 miles of underground pathways. The system provides five billion cubic feet of water per year and means Turpan has flourished as one of Xinjiang’s key cities for over 2000 years despite such an inhospitable climate.

Jack was so worried about driving here in the blistering heat yesterday that for the second time in a week we were up at 6 a.m., with TT loaded and raring to go by 6.30 a.m. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Jack. Half an hour later he appeared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and apologising profusely for the fact that he had slept in. After getting lost leaving Hami for another half an hour, we eventually got on to the road for Turpan and started our 250-mile tuk through the Gobi. Except for a freak rainstorm at 9.30 a.m., which had us scrambling for the rain covers and getting soaked, our desert drive was uneventful. Jo and I just thanked our guardian angels that the roads here are a million miles better than in the south—straight and pothole-free. Amazingly, we arrived in Turpan by 3 p.m. Never could we have dreamed of covering such mileage in so little time a few weeks ago.

As I mentioned before, Xinjiang is an extraordinary place, bordered by eight countries and home to the Uighur (pronounced wee-ger) people. Thirteen million people live in Xinjiang, eight million of whom are Uighurs. In the 1950s, 90 per cent of the population here was Uighur but, thanks to the region’s huge reserves of oil and gas underneath the Taklamakan and Gobi deserts, the Chinese are slowly but surely tightening their cultural and economic grip on the area. As we drove across the Gobi yesterday, this presence was immediately apparent, with nodding oil derricks spotting the desert as far as the eye could see.

The Uighurs are so different from the Chinese that it seems strange they should even come under the Dragon’s flag. Being a Turkic people, they look nothing like the Chinese—more Turkish or European than Asian. Their culture was once lauded by ancient Arabic historians, and the Uighur language was used for all edicts from the court of the mighty Genghis Khan. One contemporary commentator even stated: ‘He who knows the Uighur language will never experience poverty.’The Uighurs were Buddhists until the fourteenth century, but today they are Muslim—of the 24 000 places of worship in Xinjiang, over 23 000 are Islamic. Unfortunately, the Arab historian’s aphorism hasn’t held for today’s Uighurs. Few speak Chinese or receive a proper education, and hence they are left with little hope for advancement in Chinese society. Furthermore, since 9/11, the Chinese have been busy arresting any Uighurs they suspect of Islamic fundamentalism, despite their constantly harping on about religious and cultural equality for China’s minority peoples.

Jo, Jack and I have had another day off today, so with hats, sunscreen and buckets of water we headed off to the ancient city of Jiaohe this morning. We did have a plan to cycle, but after seeing the decrepitude of the bikes on offer we decided a taxi was a far better option. Any movement in this heat is unadvisable. I went for a run the other evening and felt in danger of entirely melting.

Jiaohe is far and away our favourite Chinese ‘scenic spot’. In short, it’s the ruins of a 3000-year-old city, built of clay, and destroyed in Buddhist vs Islamic wars in the fourteenth century. It is the first ‘scenic spot’ we’ve visited that hasn’t been ruined, plasticised and plagued with tacky vendors and recalcitrant camels. Yet another point scored for North West China. For two hours we wandered around, took pictures, groaned about the heat and tried to imagine what it would have been like 1000 years ago, with 7000 inhabitants and a river 90 feet deep. Then it was time for wine-tasting, lunch and air-conditioning. Later this evening we’ve requisitioned a donkey cart to take us on a wee trip into the countryside, in the company of a few cool Pineapple Beers (a bit sweet but good for the thirst). Tomorrow it’s 115 miles west to Urumqui, capital of Xinjiang, for another day off and a swim in a salt lake. That’s it from me, but Jo is tapping away next to me so it’s a double whammy today.

Roast arm of Ants with garlic and rosemary

A strange title for a blog one might think, but this was an actual conversation in the back of TT as we tukked through the Gobi Desert yesterday. It is very, very hot here and the heat is dry. When we are driving it is like being in a fan-assisted oven. The advantage of this is being able to develop our lopsided tans (due to only the left-hand side of TT being open). When we return to England we may be classified as a rare hybrid version of the brown-and-white zebra.

We are currently having a rest day in magical North West China in a city called Turpan, which is located on the ancient Silk Road. It is an oasis in the remote Gobi Desert, watered by cleverly constructed irrigation channels and a paradise for growing 600 varieties of grape and the most delicious melons.

During the day here, it is too hot to do anything other than seek shelter from the heat. Today, at 42 °C, is a typical example. In the past—and still in outlying villages—people retreat to underground rooms in their houses, only to resurface in the evening. People also sleep outside, and last night there were beds pulled out into the street and around the main square. We opted to sleep in our air-conditioned bedroom.

We have spent the past two days covering over 550 miles in TT. The roads have been good and we cover 280 miles in between seven and eight hours. I never thought this would be possible after our painful journeys in Yunnan, where it took us the best part of ten hours to cover less than 125 miles. TT is amazing as always, and her oil temperature has yet to go over halfway. She is definitely a hot-weather tuk tuk, and I think the English winter will be a real shock to her system—in the same way I think most English cars would find the desert heat difficult to deal with.

From Dunhuang we drove 280 miles to Hami, famous throughout China for its melons. Most of the traffic on the roads was trucks filled with yellow Hami melons, being driven thousands of miles to other parts of China by the long-suffering lorry drivers. They drive almost continuously and work in shift patterns—one sleeps while the other drives—definitely not a job that I envy. A truck driver was kind enough to give us a large Hami melon, which we are storing in our fridge to enjoy later this evening. The truck drivers in this part of China seem more relaxed and actually have given way to us on a couple of occasions. The roads are less busy, blissfully straight and flat, and the tarmac is far superior to anything we experienced in south and central China.

Yesterday morning was very strange. After being delayed by Jack oversleeping and getting us hopelessly lost, we were caught in a violent storm. It blew up out of nowhere about two hours beyond Hami and started to pour with rain and blow a gale. It must have been about 10 °C, and we sat shivering in TT with all of the rain covers down. Jack said that never before had he experienced a rain storm like that in the desert—we felt truly honoured. Later in the day the sky became clear blue and we were blessed with a 30 °C increase in temperature.

Driving through the desert is a real pleasure as the landscapes are so raw and remote. It makes you so happy to be alive. Yesterday we tukked past the Flaming Mountains, a range over 50 miles long that glow various shades of red and orange during daylight hours.

Tomorrow we head 125 miles west to the capital city of Xinjiang Province, Urumqui. This is Jack’s home city and he is going to show us around and take us to a Uighur performance. Ants has filled you in on the Uighurs. She attracted a potential Uighur suitor last night, who was very large and smelt of sheep. He was also very drunk and kept saying ‘yes, no, yes, no’. Eventually he left us in peace to enjoy our lamb kebabs cooked in a Uighur restaurant by a Uighur family. We love the Uighurs.

Lots of love from North West China. Everyone should visit this area: it is amazing.

Friday 7 July, dark, smoky, teenager-filled cybercafé, Urumqui, Xinjiang Province, China

Borat be with us

After 4000 miles and 28 days we have nearly made it through China. I can’t quite believe it. During those long days struggling along rutted dirt tracks in Yunnan and Guizhou, there were moments when I wondered whether we would ever make it this far, let alone get back to England. So it’s quite a feeling to actually be within sight of the Kazakh border—and at the halfway point of Tuk to the Road. Even stranger is the thought that seven weeks ago tomorrow, Jo and I packed our rucksacks and flew out of Heathrow, reaching Thailand in a mere 11 hours. That’s roughly one hour in a plane for one week in a tuk tuk.

The next major hurdle is Kazakhstan. Today we have had a day off in Urumqui, capital of Xinjiang. However, we have spent the majority of it in a darkened Internet café, finalising arrangements for the border crossing and for our stay in Almaty. Our contacts in Kazakhstan have been the recipient of a barrage of emails from me recently: should I use my Russian at the border or pretend I know none? How do we get our visas extended when it is technically illegal? How can we get vehicle insurance? Can they recommend a good hotel in Almaty? You may think it’s strange that we are two days from Kazakhstan and we still haven’t arranged our vehicle insurance, but in every other country it’s been a simple case of buying it at the border. With Kazakhstan, however, it’s not that straightforward and we have heard that if the border guards are in the mood for a shakedown, they could fine us for not having bought our policy in advance. One of our tasks today, therefore, has been to find a car insurance company based in Almaty that will cover us for our two weeks in Kazakhstan. Having found two companies, the next obstacle is getting through to them and trying to explain in my very average Russian that we need insurance for a tuk tuk. What a tukking palaver.

Kazakh issue number two is the technically impossible matter of extending our two-week tourist visas. Due to being held up in China, our visas are going to be invalid by the time we exit Kazakhstan and we could be in big trouble if we don’t manage to extend them. It seems the only option is to take a few days out and go to Bishkek, in Kyrgyzstan, to get new visas. I’m sure Bishkek is a wonderful place, but it’s a bit of a pain to have to go to such lengths for such a simple requirement. Moreover, we’ve already got a stack of things to do in Almaty. It’s the halfway point of our tukathon and TT needs a service, Jo and I need to chill out and check out some of Almaty’s clubs, the British embassy has organised a press conference, and we’ve got an appointment with Reuters (who want to film us tukking off into the steppes) and interviews with several Russian magazines and newspapers. When we’ll have time to make a visa dash to Bishkek I’m not quite sure.

I could write a whole lot more as we’ve had a really interesting few days, and a great night in Urumqui last night, but I’ve got to sort out more Kazakhstan stuff and my eyes are going square.

It was only a bad dream

Urumqui is the cosmopolitan and ethnically diverse capital of Xinjiang. It was very hot when we arrived yesterday, but last night a heavy wind drew in the storm clouds. It rained during the night and again this morning, and the temperature feels more English than we have experienced in the past two months.

We have another day off here—are we starting to take it easy, you might ask? Unfortunately, this is a day-in-the-office day off rather than a touristy day off. We have already put in a two-hour Internet session this morning and have just started our afternoon session. Internet cafés have become our third home, after the inside of TT and the inside of hotel rooms. We are both becoming confirmed technogeeks.

The other evening we got a donkey cart in Turpan and headed into the surrounding countryside and Uighur villages. It was like being transported to another country. The writing was all in Uighur and the houses and smells were very different, as were the smiley faces that shouted ‘Hello!’The Uighurs mostly have ‘exotic Asian eyes’, although not as pronounced as in the rest of South East Asia. Some of them have blue or green eyes and brown hair, and their skin tone goes from dark brown to pure white. They do not look like a homogeneous race, and over the centuries I think they have mixed with other ethnic groups, although our guide says this is quite rare. I suppose it is like every country—some people look different from others. I am English, but only a quarter of my blood actually comes from England: another quarter comes from New Zealand and the remaining half is Swiss Italian.

Yesterday morning we left Turpan and were allowed to drive on the expressway. We couldn’t believe our luck. The reason for this privilege was that the old road was under construction and hence all vehicles were mixed together on the super-speedy highway that we have spent the best part of last month fantasising about. TT loved it and used her 550-cc engine to enjoy her new speed limit of 62 mph. The main advantages were that the tarmac (Oh God! Not going on about tarmac again, Jo?) was free of irregularities—i.e. potholes and bumps—and that vehicles driving in the opposite direction were on the other side of the central reservation. This enabled the driving to be considerably less stressful.

We sped along and then visited the ‘Dead Sea of China’, spending about an hour floating in extremely salty, slightly chilly water, while Chinese techno blasted out from a nearby building. The lake was surrounded by rugged brown mountains on one side and the snow-capped peaks of the Tien Shan range on the other. It wasn’t as beautiful and romantic as it sounds though, because as well as the water being brown lots of Dong Feng lorries were driving up and down to the lake to harvest the salt.

After that we carried on towards Urumqui and were met by the side of the expressway by a Xinjiang TV crew. They carried out a brief interview in Chinese while Jack translated for us—the first bit of media work we have done in the whole of our China visit. Then they followed us down the expressway filming with their meaty Sony camera. They had their hazard lights on and didn’t pay much attention to the Dong Fengs beeping. They nearly caused a TT sandwich, which I am sure would have provided some excellent TV footage at our expense. Our arrival in Urumqui was slowed on the outskirts by a large truck that was perpendicular to the road, blocking both lanes. Quite how it came to be in that position I do not understand, because it did not appear to have been in an accident. Another mystery from Chinese roads.

When we arrived at our hotel we had to unload the spares from TT’s roof-rack because she needed to sleep in an underground carpark with low headroom. We discovered that our radiator fluid had leaked everywhere, soaking most of the spares and ruining the boxes they were in. I am not sure how much spark plugs like radiator fluid, but I hope they will be OK after drying. Anyway, it wasn’t the end of the world and I needed access to the spares to change an indicator and headlight bulb anyway.

In the evening Jack had organised for us to go to a night of Uighur entertainment. There was a huge buffet and then we were entertained by tightrope artists (suspended 90 feet up, with no safety net or harnesses), traditional Uighur songs and dance performances. Our spirits were lifted and it was a brilliant evening—thanks Jack for organising it!

We will be leaving China in three days, and I will be so sad to go. It is such a great country and I shed a few tears at the thought this afternoon. I am sure there will be real waterworks at the border. We are both apprehensive about Kazakhstan, after hearing from another traveller who had some problems at the border.

I have been having some horrible dreams recently, hence the title of this blog. The first was being told by medical school that I wasn’t suitable for them and therefore my place was taken away and my dreams of becoming a doctor ruined. My second dream was that we went to Kazakhstan and drug-crazed people were trying to kill us with knives. I was having a panic attack and we couldn’t find a hotel or escape. The place I dreamt about wasn’t really Kazakhstan but a fiction produced by my slightly anxious imagination.

Sunday 9 July, Saryam Lake, Xinjiang Province, China

A perfect goodbye to China

Today is our last day in China. How strange. At last, after 30 days driving across this massive country, the Kazakh border is within spitting distance, a mere 40 miles or so west from here.

The past month has been an intense experience—exhausting, exhilarating, stressful, hilariously funny, mind-blowingly beautiful, frustrating and immensely rewarding. After all the trials and tukulations that China has put us through, I never thought I would feel sad to leave it behind. But I am. We couldn’t be spending our last day here in a more idyllic setting, and yet today is tinged with a sadness that has really surprised me. More than anything, I can’t believe that we have been on the road for six weeks and that we are halfway home. It’s as if the gears of time have gone into fast-forward and are catapulting us towards our final destination in turbo mode. And although we are both appreciating every moment, there’s nothing we can do to slow it down. It’s like trying to grasp a handful of sand; the more you clutch at it, the faster it disappears. Before we know it, Jo,Ting Tong and I will be back in England, and all the weird and wonderful experiences we are having will be locked in the catacombs of our minds. But that’s life, just chapters of memories to be cherished and learnt from.

Yesterday was a Tuk to the Road personal best. We left Urumqui at 9 a.m., the streets still deserted due to the city living on Xinjiang time (although the clocks here are officially set to Beijing time, the people live two hours behind, the same as Kazakhstan and the rest of Central Asia), and arrived at this magic lake at 8.30 p.m. last night. In the 11.5 hours and 400 miles since we left Urumqui, we had crossed desert, steppe, fields of sunflowers, empty scrubland and wheat fields, guided all the way by the aptly named Tien Shan—‘heavenly’—mountains. It was hard to believe we had covered such a distance and seen so many sights in a single day.

We set off in the morning, unsure of our destination, our fate to be decided by whether we were allowed on the expressway. Our first attempt failed and the irate lady at the toll told us to tuk off in no uncertain fashion. Undeterred, we tried the tollgate about 12 miles further west. Again, the guards shook their heads and told us to be off to the old road, where other three-wheeled beasts dwelt. But he also added that a few miles further on there was a slip-road where we could surreptitiously tuk on to the expressway, which of course we did. The next 280 miles were spent speeding along on glorious tarmac, slipping through tolls before they could change their mind and waving merrily at policeman who we were convinced would stop us. Although Jo and I feel that not being allowed on the expressways has in fact turned out for the best, there are times when it’s a joy to be on them. Without yesterday’s luck, we would never have made it to Saryam Lake last night and been able to spend our last day in China riding, walking and enjoying the unspoilt wilderness of China’s final frontier.

A bit about the lake. Pronounced ‘salim’, it’s the largest mountain lake in China, covering a vast 200 square miles and being up to 300 feet deep in parts. For me, this is how Heaven, if it existed, would look—cobalt-blue water, brilliant green pastures, perfect velveteen mountains, eagles drifting lazily on the wind, an effusion of wild flowers of every colour, yurts dotting the grassland and Kazakh and Wi nomads herding their animals on horses. I’d like to set up a yurt and spend a long time here, with a large pile of books and lots of tea. Jo has been taking the piss out of me as she says my new obsession is yurts, which I think it is. First it was the Hmong, then the Hexi Corridor, then the Uighurs and now yurts. But yurts really are awesome, and I might have to live in one when I get back to England. Mine might have to have central heating though, as it was pretty chilly last night, even with most of the contents of my rucksack and three duvets on.

Apart from feeling sad about leaving China, today has been perfect. Jo, Jack and I went riding this morning, up into the mountains and across some very gallop-able grassland. Last time Jo and I rode together was when we were bolted on our horses at home, aged 14, laughing too much to do anything about stopping. Today was a bit more genteel, and apart from the odd canter we mostly just lazed along at a walk or trot and enjoyed the view. Everyone here has horses; they’re their livelihood. They spend their whole lives on their four-legged friends, herding their flocks and then eating them when they get too old to work. Being a vegetarian, I was delighted to read in our Central Asian Lonely Planet this morning that horsemeat is a national speciality in Kazakhstan. Horse sausage, horse intestine, horse liver…horse everything. I’ll just stick to the veggies thanks.

So tomorrow morning, early, we pack up TT for the last time in China and head west to the border at Khorgos. We should reach the checkpoint by 9 a.m. and then, with a bit of luck, be on the way to Almaty a few hours later. It’s 200 miles to Almaty, and the roads are allegedly good, so we should be there by early evening, to meet up with my mother who is flying in from the UK tonight. Fingers crossed that this time tomorrow we will be speeding across the Kazakh countryside and all our border worries will have been for nothing.

Beautiful China

I am lost for words by the beauty of this place. The lake is the most perfect bright blue—for those that remember their chemistry lessons, it is the colour of copper sulphate—and is surrounded by mountains, some rugged and some covered in grass. Traditional yurts are dotted on the grassy hills on one side of the lake, and there are herds of sheep and horses. Last night we climbed to the top of the nearest hill and enjoyed the sun setting; I nearly ruined the moment by trying to yodel. I was also wearing my Yi apron on top of my normal clothes, with an army hat and headband to complete the rather strange look. If it had been daylight I would have been deemed an eyesore.

We opted to stay in a pseudo-yurt. Apparently the real ones have a certain sheepy odour to them, are very cold and are not very comfortable. We hope to stay in a proper yurt in Kazakhstan, when it is not so important that we sleep well. Our yurt looks out over the lake and at night is blessed with electricity, but no central heating. We have a carpet on the floor and some basic wooden furniture, and we sleep on and in blankets, fully clothed, with half of our rucksacks emptied on top of us to add to the warmth. Ants also wears her earplugs and eye-mask—apparently my snoring still penetrates the earplugs though.

Last night we did not sleep very well, but to compensate I was woken by the most beautiful sunrise across the lake. Until the sun rises fully here, it is the temperature of England on an early spring morning, i.e. chilly. In the morning we went riding for two hours. I didn’t have any long trousers and so the inside of my calves are now suffering, having been rubbed red raw from cantering across the fields. I had forgotten how much I love riding, and it was a magic experience.

So, tomorrow we leave China and cross into Kazakhstan. We are both still nervous about what to expect. I feel like I am being sent back to school at the beginning of term and I don’t want to go. I have cried quite a few tears today and will keep the experiences of the past two weeks in my heart forever. I will miss China so much. Jack has been amazing and is now a good friend.