Through the desert

Toll gate (let the games begin!)

First full day of actual riding in China and after getting free of Kashgar, the police diversions making this no easy task, the start of the long slog through Xinjiang began. Lots of long, hot, dusty desert highway miles. The toll roads were the only real option of covering the ground in the available time. As mentioned before, Jah had said we should try not to pay as the fine was the same as the toll and you weren't always fined! Being on foreign plated bikes, we wouldn't be fined at all: so we played the game. Hide behind a lorry as it pulls up to the toll gate, inch forward out of the attendants eyeline and dart through before they have a chance to stop you. Sometimes the attendants would ignore you or wave you through, but at other times would scream, shout and wave their arms, sometimes even physically blocking your escape. If you paid up, they calmed down. Xinjiang was the hardest place to win the game, but the rules changed from province to province.

The turn off for Tibet

Frustratingly, the first days ride out of Kashgar passed the turn off for Tibet. I stopped briefly to stare and rue another missed opportunity. Next time! 

Then more long hot miles to Hotan. Stopping for lunch at a manic service station where several heavily loaded Chinese bikes (all with pillions) were parked up. The service station was busy with Chinese patrons with sharp elbows and loud voices demanding food. We were invisible in this scenario, so a quick pot noodle and coke (caffeine was necessary at this point) and back on the road with a thousand yard stare.

Heavily loaded Chinese bikes

Hotan night market

Nigel, Olli and Colin

Another frustrating peculiarity of Xinjiang was the fuel stops. The indigenous Uighur population are so content and happy with the Beijing government (if you believe the party line......!) that the petrol stations are surrounded by barbed wire and guards who check your Chinese ID card and number plate before they will let you in to buy fuel. As we had no Chinese ID or Chinese number plates, we had to rely on the guide to use his to get us into the stations. A slow and frustrating process. At least they seemed to have abandoned the crazy notion that bikes can't fill up at the pump and have to be filled via a kettle! One step forward, two steps back. The waiting cars weren't always thrilled about 9 bikes jumping the queue either.

Xinjiang fuel stop

Interminable 

The next day, JBs bike was still having issues. It kept losing power, so the mornings entertainment was a trip to a museum or a mechanic. Most of the group opted for the mechanic option; bikers eh??  Uncultured Neanderthals!!

The problem was diagnosed as the reg./rec. or stator. They didn't have the part, but an order was placed for it to be delivered further down the track. 

This meant a late start and more motorway slogging through utterly barren, dusty landscapes; struggling to stay awake at times, we pulled into Minfeng.

This was the gateway to the crossing of the Taklamakan desert, almost 600 Kms from south to north with a small settlement in the middle selling fuel and food. This was a better days riding, off the highway and into the unknown. 

Apart from the buying fuel issue, we were free to ride at our own pace. I was very happy to ride alone for most of the day.

Photos courtesy of Jah

Proper desert

Irrigation to stop the desert from overwhelming the road

The halfway fuel stop saw the unwanted reappearance of the fuel kettle (the first and only time on this trip). Fortunately, as my bike carries 27 litres, I didn't need to refuel. 

Later as Paolo and Sirpa overtook me (again!), we came across a Chinese cyclist with a flat tyre. I inflated it with my compressor (but he apparently continued to flag down later bikers, as it was still flat?!?). He was taking 18 days to cycle what we were doing in one. Cyclists are weird.

Continued through the starkly beautiful desert eventually emerging into Luntai for the night.

The only time the kettle made an appearance in Xinjiang 

Chinese cyclist with a flat tyre

Then on to Turpan, back on the northern Silk Route and on a road I'd ridden before. Unexpectedly, the day started cold and wet, in the desert!! The first half of the ride was long, straight and COLD. As the miles rolled by, the sun decided to return from it's lie in and chase the cold away. The hills also reappeared, the curves in the road perking the fatigued riders up.

Everywhere seems bigger and busier than before. The cities sprawling ever outwards as they consume the ever increasing lorries on the road.

The road then wound it's way down into the Turpan basin (well below sea level). Very hot region, the mornings cold already a distant memory. As I approached Turpan, I had some flashes of recognition of the massive wind farms; but Turpan itself was unrecognisable. I couldn't even find the hotel I stayed at on my two previous visits. Apparently a victim of the relentless march of time and progress.

A much needed rest day in Turpan meant a lot of beer was consumed on the first night along with a SiChuan hot pot dinner. Spicy!

JBs bike part had been delivered to the hotel, so Gerald and Nigel set about the major surgery required to resuscitate his BMW. Apparently successful. So the group headed off to the tourist sites. I'd been before so opted for a walk instead, ending up at the Su Gong Tower (a tourist site, which I may or may not have been to before??). Very hot, very tired.

Soundtrack: "Patchwork" - Tindersticks