Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'I guess if we really get stuck, we just have to remember which side of the train
line we're on,' said Chris. He was referring to the fact that our route would vaguely
follow the path of the trans-Mongolian railway.
So, choosing the wheel tracks that headed for the easiest gradient in sight, we
trundled off. Exactly how long it would take to get to China we didn't know. We
approximated that it was 900 kilometres away, but that would depend almost en-
tirely on road conditions. What we did know was that between us and the Chinese
border lay a vast stretch of the infamous Gobi Desert.
A couple of hours later we had covered about ten kilometres, and in the last
thirty metres of steep uphill climbing I had fallen five or six times. Steeling myself,
I sat on the saddle and focused again - I wasn't going to let this stupid track get the
better of me. I let go of the brakes and put my legs into action, pedalling as fast as
humanly possible. I relied on some speed for balance but I was still going at about
half walking-pace. Then, suddenly, the front wheel slid out in some loose rock and
I flicked my feet down to earth in an attempt to stay upright. But it was too late.
My brakes failed, the bike rolled backwards, my feet skidded hopelessly along the
ground and the top-heavy baggage began to lean over. All I could do was try to leap
clear of the enormous dead weight as it gained momentum and went plummeting
downhill. Wild-eyed I dived towards a patch of pebbly earth that bore the only tuft
of grass in sight. I wasn't fast enough.
First came the painful crunch in my hips as I hit the gritty earth. I wanted to
punch the earth back. But I was distracted by another blow as the bike thundered
down, trapping my right leg beneath the cogs. The sharp metal bit into my calf
muscle. I ripped my leg away from the bike's jaw and performed a few commando
rolls before rising in a cloud of dust to stare down my foe. It was too painful to
stand still so I hopped around and threw handfuls of rocks into the sky. My leg was
dripping blood that was already encrusted in sand and dust. It wasn't serious, just
infuriating.
The bike lay in a heap, stubbornly refusing to go any further. I thought about
giving it an almighty boot up the bum, but was put off when I noticed a horseman
trotting by.
'This is bloody ridiculous!' I yelled. Never had the bike been so heavy and
cumbersome. The prospect of few watering points meant that we were each carry-
ing seventeen precious litres of water in Chinese jerry cans and soft drink bottles.
Along with food for a week, our bikes and baggage weighed about ninety kilo-
grams each.
