Up down and round and round

Well, Xiahe was brilliantly interesting and surrounded by some stunning scenery. Upon departure we had a little difficulty finding the correct road out of the village, as it was only a small local road. I stopped to ask someone and we chatted a little. I told him that I thought his home was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. He said ‘Yes it is beautiful, but not free, but we get by.’ This was the first time I had encountered anyone in China being so politically open about such a sensitive issue, and I was quite taken aback. I have honed very well my diplomatic vocabulary for talking with Chinese people about such issues, saying that people around the world have different cultures and different political views, and other such meaningless drivel. When I was, however, finally given the opportunity to agree with someone and give them a little support, I was quite literally lost for words. All I could do was nod and ask the way again out of town. I felt so useless, and so helpless. I felt that he had reached out to me and that I had offered nothing in return. It is a moment I look back on with great regret.
This feeling was at least assuaged by the most stunning drive we have had so far. The green of the Ganjia grasslands is of a shade which I have never seen, so dark and rich that our own green and pleasant land pales into insignificance. And although there was much that was idyllic about this landscape, it was far too imposing to be called in anyway ‘pleasant’. The herds of yak and sheep made for a scene which I had almost forgotton still existed in China, having spent so long in the bright lights of Beijing. When this green was then complimented with the white caps of towering mountains in the near distance the tableau was well and truly complete. The monasteries, stupas and monks one passed on the road being the only real reminder of human presence in this wonderful landscape. It is at this point that one understands why the Tibetan culture is so esteemed by the West. It is hard to imagine a scene which stands in such stark contrast to the Western, and modern Chinese, ‘who dies with the most toys wins’ mentality. It was the sort of scenery I had only dreamed that we might encounter on this trip.
However, what made the day’s ride even more fascinating still was the diversity of scenery that was laid out for our enjoyment. Rolling green hills and white caps gave way to crimson rock gorges and turquoise lakes, which in turn faded into pine tree woods reminiscent of an alpine scene, which then in turn segued back into the rolling green hills which returned once and a while providing a light motif for the day, creating what was truly a symphony of landscape.
There was, however, only one thing that slightly detracted from our enjoyment of this wonderful scenery, and that was that we were making painfully slow time. Every time we took a winding road up into the hills our 150cc motorcycles, struggling under the weight of us and all our gear, rarely exceeded 40km/h. We spent much of the day in second and third gear, crawling.
We therefore failed to make our target of camping beside Qinghai lake, and as dusk descended we found a campsite next to a stream in a valley between rolling green hills. Just as we were about to pitch camp, however, we heard the unmistakeable calls of herdsmen as they, and their herd of yak, emerged over one of the hills. Our campsite was suddenly occupied. Rather sheepishly we asked the herdsmen if it was alright if we camped there. They said that this was, of course, fine and that they were moving on soon anyway. We took some photos of them and their yak, for which they very solemnly made sure they took their hats off, and also managed to get a demonstration of the use of one of their sling shots, the accuracy of which in a trained hand was quite remarkable.
As the day came to an end, frustration at not reaching our goal faded into satisfaction at what had been seen that day. In fact, so much had been seen that the morning felt as far in the past as the events of the previous week.
The next morning, perhaps feeling the effects of the cold night which had past, or perhaps struggling from the exertions of the previous day and the two crashes to which it had been subjected, Pryd’s bike would not start. We tried kick starting it, we tried pop starting it. Nothing worked, and at an altitude of around 3000m pushing a bike to try and pop start it is less than fun. Our exertions attracted the attention of two locals who were driving past on their motorcycles. They, like us, could not work out what was wrong, but they would not give up. Eventually, between the four of us, we managed to get the bike started again and they pointed us in the direction of a mechanic. We owe those two guys a great deal, and it is a shame that all we could really offer was ‘thank you’.
After a seeing over by the mechanic Pryd’s bike was once again in vague working order and it was time to make the assault on Qinghai Lake, China’s biggest lake. It is, in fact more of an inland sea, and is even big enough to be salty. The scenery was, once again, stunning, but I did not feel the same affinity with it that I had felt with that of the previous day. It is, perhaps, hard to have such a personal attachment to scenery that so many others are also experiencing at the same time as oneself, for by this time we had been joined by many other tourists and the feeling that the show was being put on for us, and us alone, was well and truly gone.
That night we stayed in a perfectly pleasant little town called Wulan, where for the first time on the trip we encountered the phenomenon of there only being one hotel which is allowed to accept foreigners. This rule is, according to the authorities at least, for foreigners’ own safety. Far more likely, however, is that it is much easier to control foreigners if they can only stay in one place. This is particularly important when the town lies on the back road into a certain place with very high mountains, lots of monks and where a German guy once spent seven years. Travelling to Tibet as a foreigner not as part of a group is still strictly prohibited.