Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I cast my gaze into the distance where a few sketchy lines constituted the only
break in a land without contrast. A tiny black dot shimmered in the slight mirage,
crawling along one of the sketchy lines - Chris.
My energy waned even further as I thought about the stakes. Not only was the
bike heavy but I was more worn out than ever, and these were the worst roads we
had come across. The prospect of 900 kilometres felt beyond me.
After a drink my nerves settled and I was ready to face the world again. I set
off ambling down the track, keeping my eyes on the ground. Gradually, I began to
make progress, steering around patches of crumbling rock and following the con-
tours of the tracks. Funnily enough I discovered that it wasn't such a painful ride:
without any way of gauging distance, distance itself didn't seem to matter. Hours
merged and the rise and fall of hunger became the only indicator of passing time.
I was free to move at my own pace, and the open nothingness formed a sooth-
ing backdrop. Sometimes it was good just to let the mind wander with thoughts as
empty as space. As the sun plodded steadily towards the west my sweat began to
cool and the earth came into clear focus.
The second day of riding merged into the first. The large rounded hills began
to give way to a series of slightly raised plateaux, like a range of miniature table-
lands. From a distance the curvy mounds looked like yellow crests on the sea. The
sky melted with the hazy horizon. At times the heat mirage that licked the land-
scape with clear, molten flames was more real than the earth itself. Now and then
we spotted
gers
in the distance but they were far more sparsely scattered than in
northern Mongolia. We pedalled on, choosing our tracks on gut feeling and by the
odd peek at the compass. Now and then a Russian-made truck or motorbike would
hurtle by in a plume of dust and shrink out of sight. They could appear from any
direction, rumbling over the steppe, and not necessarily following any tracks at all.
Even though it was only our second day, I was already losing track of time. It
was like there was this vague empty land rolling beneath the wheels and I could
only keep track of things by the day's events: camp, ride, eat, pee. But with the
landscape and weather taking on such uniformity, even those common activities
began to merge into one another. Had I peed before or after lunch? Have I had
lunch, or was it yesterday's lunch I am thinking of? In the end it was irrelevant.
If I am hungry I will eat, and if I am tired I will sleep, I thought. There were just
enough signs of life to reassure us that we hadn't stepped off the edge of the world,
and enough subtle changes in the landscape to indicate that we weren't living the
