Wednesday, 16th December, 2015
- Day 106/298
- 35%
Big trucks dominate the mountain roads, forcing me along an imaginary line to maintain my course and life force.
The imaginary line
Imprints on a tamer stretch.
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Positive vibes outside Firetribe.
Cameraderie.
Quiet streets.
Engineering feats.
Leaving Firetribe Datong, Zhihong leads me out of town on a nice route of quiet streets which lead to wider more modern roads lined with attractive buildings.
After that it's basically a straight line out to the countryside. At the final intersection I'm forced to wait for an exceptionally long procession of trucks. A bus behind me starts tooting, but where am I supposed to go? A frail assembly of bones and steel tubing I'll not be the one to part this red sea.
And perhaps he doesn't need me to - the tooting might just be their way of saying: Hey! I'm here, just so you know…
Whereas I'm reading it as: Get out of my way m***********!
To which I respond: No, I can't get out of your way m***********!!
Anyway. Now enjoying the view as I approach beautiful Mount Hunyuan, when a branch hits the derailleur and I suddenly find that I can't pedal forward anymore.
Dismounting to walk, massive trucks hoon past a half torso away - which is frankly terrifying. This in stark contrast to local courtesy when not behind the wheel.
Thankfully after a hundred metres or so I find a place where I can pull off the road. Removing the Troll's luggage, I flip her upside down and see that the branch has yanked the derailleur out of alignment. After straightening its hangar all seems fine, but I don't know if it's going to affect my gear changes or not.
Emptying my bladder of a morning's worth of of Coke I reach for the snacks - bread, banana chips, Snickers and nuts. Then I jump back on the bike, wary of getting cold in the snow and windchill.
The shoulder fluctuates between being rideable and not, depending on the amount of snow on it.
There's a large step down from concrete to paving stones or more concrete, and later to a metre high embankment which terminates in the trees below. The other side of the road doesn't fare as the elevation brings with it steep rock walls.
The lanes are barely wide enough for the big trucks and their wide tyres leave imprints in the snow or slush at the lane's edge.
There isn't really room for passing, yet everyone does it anyway. Yelling is my only defence against the driver of the white notchback who leans on the horn, eventually forcing me onto the ice as I have nowhere else to go. Hooray! He gets to his destination 30 seconds faster while I have to exert 300 pounds of force to get myself off the ice and back onto the road.
The trucks are honking too, a warning that they're coming 'round the corner, or that one slow truck wants to pass another. The latter is a pointless manoeuvre that involves consuming the full width of the road. Unable to turn around to see what's behind me I'm forced to concentrate intensely on my imaginary line in order to maintain my course and life force. Ignore the GPS and just follow the road.
Cresting the hill I see flyovers below, technological marvels in the midst of mountains. Up close, car posters stuck to the supports detract from their glamour. I'd love to take more pictures, but self-preservation comes first!
After a while I decide that trying to co-exist with the traffic is too risky, the slippery surface having claimed this cyclist before.
Thus, every time I think I hear something coming I pull over, stop and turn around to see if I can spot the sound source. If I can then I wait for it to approach and slowly pass. Then I remount my loaded bike. Pushing off with my right foot I fight to gain grip on the slippery surface, then wrestle my heavy load through ice rocks and slush. Back on the road, I quickly straighten up before something else comes. This stop-start makes for a slooow journey.
Thankfully it's warm enough and I find myself repeatedly taking my sunglasses off as they steam up from the exertion. This is due to going for it whenever I get a clear run. Spinning the peddles to a swift 13 km/h I try and make up some distance before I have to pull over again.
The hill on the other side is also beautiful. I come to a town, Xiahancunxiang. The Hanging Temple is only 11km away but with the sunlight fading I want to get inside before it gets cold.
Riding through the village I notice big baskets of corn everywhere and wonder whether these are used for heating, perhaps like pine cones. Truck loads of men stare at the strange stranger. I ask several ladies where the nearest hotel is and both wave me in the general direction of the main road.
Riding down alleyways and past property gates I imagine the beautiful houses and serene courtyards that lie beyond. It seems like a nice town and I'm disappointed that the hotel is on the outskirts.
On the main road I stop at a two storied house with big gates and a large courtyard. After enquiring as to whether I can sleep there, the woman invites me inside to the family room, where a young child naps and a man tends the fire.
I'm not sure if it's really a hotel, but they have a room upstairs for 60 Yuan and that's enough.
Climbing the creaky steel ladder to my room, I retrieve my noodles and return downstairs where it is much warmer.
The family encourage me to sit up on the elevated platform, rather than leave my feet dangling off the edge as seems more appropriate.
I quickly learn that this is because the pot belly stove somehow vents into this cavity, resulting in a warm surface for bums, hands and feet. There are two stoves, both running on coal, and although there are a couple of sticks of corn nearby I don't see any being used to fuel the fire.
With me on the platform are a husband and wife in their 50s or early 60s, grandparents and their granddaughter.
The young girl is obsessed with several things which cannot be taken from her without causing a tantrum. The first is the TV channel, which cannot be changed from the cartoon channel, which she is only partially watching; the second is the wad of Yuan which her parents have foolishly loaned to keep her amused. Every now and then she sneezes as she inhales second hand smoke from of the men.
I contribute my now worthless wad of Mongolian tögrög, leaving her to count the zeros and calculate her new net worth.
The woman gives me some hot water so I can wash my face, hands, ears - and feet with their foot bath. She offers to cook my noodles before giving me some of her noodles as well.
A younger man comes in to swap his truck for a motorbike and shoots me a dirty look, a scowl as if to say I f****** hate you and I totally distrust you.
And I'm thinking shit, this is that guy from the truck.
Because earlier there were two trucks coming towards me. One was passing the other and I was like, there's no need for you to pass and you've left me no space. So I stopped and let them pass, but as the truck passed by me I made a point of making eye contact with the driver and mouthing some abuse. Granted, it was in English, but his face indicated that he understood my intent.
And now I wonder if it's the same guy, because he just gave me the dirtiest look. So I give him a dirty look back because it's like, whatever dude - my time's important too.
After dinner I head back to my frigid room where the heat pump fights a losing battle and I'm grateful for my down sleeping bag and bulky blanket.
Downing biscuits and hot tea, I realise that it's only 7.30pm, but I need a good sleep after several nights late to bed.
And there's nothing stopping me from sleeping here, none of the usual distractions. No Wi-Fi or mobile data, no way to contact Zhihong and ask for advice. That's frustrating, but at least I can charge my batteries, except for my broken laptop.
The plan for tomorrow is to get up early and check out the famous Hanging Temple in the Huan Hunyuan (sic) mountains. Hopefully the weather's as nice as it was today with blue skies and only a puff of cloud in the distance.
And then I'm heading for Shifang Cheng (sic) and then there's another mountain range to cross, a wooden pagoda to see in Yin Fang Shin (sic), then link up with the main road and go over the big hill to Yuan Ping (sic). I've marked some lines on my map but they don't mean much to me now and I don't really know where I'm going.
I do know that I have to end up at Taiyuan - but to go no further south. I wonder whether it is possible and I've just been told not to because of some horror stories that happened to someone in the past. Today wasn't so hard in that the hills weren't as steep as I expected despite the peak being 2200m (wherever it was). Of course in bad weather it would be a different story.