Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Morning came quicker than expected.
'Hey Tim, wake up.' Chris was shaking me by the shoulder. I opened my eyes to
see his face and the pale sky beyond. 'Tim, it's time to move. We're already pretty
obvious.'
My vision slowly cleared and focused on the heavy stream of traffic. There
were donkeys and carts, cyclists, cars and even pedestrians. In the sitting position,
I would have been visible from the waist up. People paused to gape before the
banked-up traffic willed them on. It was no wonder; I was wearing only my rain-
bow coloured thermal underwear. More intriguing was my headwear. I had lost my
beanie near Houqi and in recent days had taken to wrapping an old pair of thermal
long johns around my head. It must have looked like some kind of bizarre turban.
'Chris, mate, how do I look?'
'Like you spent the night in a bloody ditch!'
We couldn't help laughing. There was nothing to hide anymore.
Chris wet his fingers with some spit and attempted to give his face a wash, but
just succeeded in smearing some dirt over his brow. 'Time for breaky, hey?' he
said, with a grin.
'Yep, let's go.'
Zhangjiakou was a shock by day. The alleyways were congested with a moving
sea of people. In one side street alone there was probably more commercial activity
than in an entire Russian city. The pavements and squares were cluttered with
crowds dancing to music and stretching in perfect synchronicity. And what's more,
there were bike highways, and we were two among thousands.
As a heavy rain set in we took refuge in a cheap noodle restaurant. After four
hearty serves it was still pouring. Begrudgingly we returned to the bikes and within
minutes were soaked to the bone; my waterproof clothing had worn out long ago.
Miserable, but with a belly full of noodles to keep me warm, I put feet to pedals
and followed Chris. We turned off in the direction of Beijing and didn't stop for
lunch.
The downpour did not ease and eventually the liquid bullets beat me into sub-
mission: there was no point in resisting. They penetrated everything. My skin felt
as soft and fragile as soggy cardboard. Water streamed down my back, my chest
and the underside of my legs. It collected in pools in the sleeves of my jacket and
the cuffs of my pants.
We passed through busy little towns where the buildings were blackened with
coal soot, and smoke stacks billowed thick grey smoke, which merged with the low
