Abrupt halt from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Forced by gale force winds to pull up abruptly for the day, Ken describes the experience, and the dubious flea pit he’s forced to spend the night in
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Abrupt halt
September 4th, 2010Descent to Turpan
September 3rd, 2010
I was tired. Very tired. Hadn’t slept well the previous night. Few hours dozing, only to be woken once more by lorries rumbling into what was clearly more a truck stop than a petrol station. And the odd goods train trundling past on the main line across the road. Maybe not as over-staffed as I’d thought when I’d arrived. Just a lull.
But it did mean I’d got an early start. My notes said mountain day, the small scale map suggesting the road followed a pass through a range with quite a few peaks over the four thousand metre mark. Thus prepared for a tough ride to Turpan. Only to discover early on that, whilst my expectations were strictly correct, it was downhill. I shouldn’t have been surprised, for the town sits in a depression, over five hundred feet below sea level. Third lowest in the world. Just hadn’t expected to descend so soon.
Through the mountains a few sandstone outcrops, but otherwise now a dark, volcanic rock, fine grit, the odd tree, dusty building but otherwise barren, empty. The wind had begun to come up, thankfully largely on my back, but soon too strong to be able to safely control the bike. Quickly found myself struggling to keep it upright as I pushed it along the hard shoulder.
Eventually reaching a petrol station and some respite from the wind, by now gale force, perhaps Force 7 or 8, I found myself contemplating how to reach Turpan safely some thirty or so miles away. If the wind remained directly on my back it’d be possible, albeit very slowly and cautiously, but that seemed unlikely for such a distance.
But then the traffic police arrived, to help rather than hinder. They’d spotted me passing through one of the toll points along the dual carriageway. Vehicles had been blown over ahead, they explained, the wind strength was expected to increase further, but would diminish overnight. I should not continue, they advised. Conditions had become unrideable. They had a point. And, they indicated, there was a hotel across on the other side of the carriageway where I could stop for the night.
Thanking them for their advice, I huddled behind the petrol station, considering my next move. Perhaps the police were just being cautious. Understandable. Maybe things were not quite as bad as they had portrayed. But I doubted they’d invented the story about vehicles getting blown over. If I continued on and things worsened, it’d be difficult, if not well nigh impossible, to retrace my steps. And little chance of shelter to pitch the tent if benighted short of Turpan.
Hotel it was to be. Frustrating but probably wise. I could quickly make up the ground in the morning. Took a while to reach it across the carriageway, crossing the wind beam on. And a similar struggle to secure a room. At first flat denials they even had accommodation. Showed them my card, explaining my venture in Simplified Chinese, gestured to indicate my dilemma, that I’d be delighted to continue on to Turpan, but it simply wasn’t possible. Nor could I retrace my steps back towards Urumqi. I was stuck.
They relented. Hard concrete floor, dubious bedding and if you wanted en suite, there was the petrol station a few hundred metres along. But it was shelter. And just two pounds for the night. I assured them I simply wanted to sleep, keep out of sight, then be on my way. Suspected they just didn’t want the hassle of having to register my presence with the Police. Ironic given who’d advised me to stop there. And I had sought to explain that to my reluctant hosts.
Discovery road
September 2nd, 2010“Life is a journey, not a destination” – Ralph Waldo, American Philosopher
After a year on the road, and exactly a quarter of a century since completing a three week “Standard” course with The Outward Bound Trust, time for some reflection….
It’d been a little rash of me. Shortly before I’d embarked on this venture, I’d suggested it was not about discovering who one really was, for I already knew that. Sounds crass now. But that was a year ago. Actually, I’d always known they’d be expedition necessities that’d be strongly counter-intuitive. Private hurdles to be overcome.
Like a deeply ingrained desire to do things properly. Or not at all. Not perfectionism – that’s Fool’s Gold. But I do like to strive for the very best. Apparently, as a toddler, I never gave any real indication of aspiring to walk, or talk, then just did it as if it were something I’d always done. Haven’t stopped since.
If this strikes you as potentially problematic for a venture such as mine, then you need to understand my equally strong desire for tackling issues head on. Bold, decisive solutions. But only when I’m ready. For example, I’ve always been uncomfortable with my head under water, despite a love of swimming. So I learnt to kayak, eventually mastering the self-righting eskimo roll. Perhaps not quite as drastic as four years cycling around the world, but you get the idea.
But how does the desire to do things properly manifest itself? Just take a look at the cycle I use, the kit I carry. Well-engineered, in part a reflection of my own technical background, the best I could afford, an investment in the project. A love of what mathematicians call elegant solutions, beauty in their simplicity.
Allied to that is a resolutely logical approach to problem solving, an unwavering belief that careful analysis of the facts, as they appear at the time, will yield the answer. Just need to be calm, considered. A love of order, seeking to impose it where it does not exist. Not to control, simply to help clarify the situation. A framework. But not overly rigid, the desire for the elegant solution, to be bold and decisive, helping ensure lots of creative thought gets woven in.
Take my first Chinese visa, expiring before I was permitted to cross the border. On the face of it, seek another at the nearest friendly Consulate, continue on and hope you could get enough extensions in country to enable you to ride to Hong Kong. But a careful analysis of the facts, many of them ambiguous or largely non-existent, taken together with a desire for the bold, elegant solution, and the answer became self-evident. Jump on a plane, return to the UK, get a fresh visa – three months duration – and then return to the road.
Learning to deal with often very scant information in the field has been an education, having to quell any desire to fill in the gaps before making decisions. And whilst my life hasn’t exactly been closeted, corruption has been a new concept to get to grips with at the same time.
Then there’s my own approach to riding, in chunks, moving on only when I’m quite ready. Admittedly because this project is more about meeting people and seeing places, rather than simply grinding the miles away on the bike. And, as time has gone on, sharing those experiences with others, through the website, has become almost as important. And that takes time. Besides, I enjoy producing things, writing, filming, taking photographs. Helps a great deal with the loneliness, gives me a focus.
Why share these rather personal thoughts? Because if you think you can’t do this sort of thing, or something close to it, there’s a good chance you’d be wrong. And that is my point. Besides, put these normally private tussles into context. They’re incidentals to the expedition, not its rationale. Am I winning? Well, I’m now deep into China.
[With especial thanks to Jackie who’s quite convinced – despite my strenuous denials – that whenever I do things I mutter “Box ticked“. And that’s another task off the list for today…. And to Mark who, it seems, has christened me ’The Planner’. Which I’m rather fond of, even if it’s probably not quite as true as I’d like it to be]
Looking back..
September 1st, 2010
“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams” – John Barrymore
Sailing past the vast wind farms south of Urumqi had put me into a reflective mood. A quarter of a century ago, an expanse of time I find difficult to conceive of, I was in the final throes of The Outward Bound Trust’s flagship three week “Standard” course at their Eskdale centre in the English Lake District.
The timing was perfect. In the intervening years life I don’t think I’ve shied away from challenges, grasping opportunities to improve myself. And yet nothing has ever come close to influencing the path I’ve taken as much as the course. Inward learning in the great outdoors. Doubt I’ve ever discovered so much about myself in such a relatively short space of time.
Sometimes wonder what I’d have made of it if, twenty five years ago, someone had said to me that one day I’d be cycling around the world to raise funds for the Trust. Not sure. But I am quite certain I’d not be spending tonight above a petrol station somewhere in Western China if it hadn’t been for those three weeks back in 1985. Course E341.
[The Outward Bound Trust relies on charitable donations to help young people, from a wide variety of backgrounds, to have the opportunity for similar life influencing experiences. Please consider making a donation to help with their work – simply click here to find out how to do so securely]
Truck stop
August 31st, 2010Truck stop from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Ken describes his first day back on the road after the city of Urumqi, Western China
Escape from Urumqi
August 30th, 2010
I’d only stopped to ask for directions. Yes, explained the chorus of voices, this being the most well staffed petrol station I’d ever encountered, I was on the right road. Heading for the town of Dabanchang for the night. But they had rooms here, the collective quickly added.
The manager appeared, a young, jovial chap, with a greater smattering of English than I had of Mandarin. Some confusion. I’d been slow to grasp what he meant by “no money” when I enquired about the room rate – he’d read my little card explaining my venture in Simplified Chinese and had decided to offer me a bed for the night for free.
Rather better luck than earlier in the day. Started well enough, picking my way across the city of Urumqi. Succeeded in finding the right road south without too much difficulty. And relatively cool, perhaps just twenty degrees, with the wind on my back. Made a change. Pleasant enough. Gentle incline, steady progress along the hard shoulder of the dual carriageway.
Then the realisation that the hissing noise wasn’t one of the many roadside sprinklers. It was my rear tyre. Puncture number six. Not a bad innings, but still a good half hour job to unload all the kit, effect a repair, and getting going once more. Busy road so I improvised a warning triangle with the bright red panniers and my rear light.
Towards Turpan
August 29th, 2010Towards Turpan from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Ken outlines the next stage of his journey, east through the mountains and into the Turpan basin
China Girl… on air
August 28th, 2010
Courtesy of friends at my local community radio station in Somerset, England – www.10radio.org– you can catch up with my regular monthly on air chats with the Saturday Morning WakeUp team.
In this latest episode Ken talks to his good friend and neighbour, Jon, about first impressions of China. Just click on the link below to hear the latest instalment.
And the “China Girl” reference in the title? Presenter Anton’s choice of track – the David Bowie original – to follow the interview…
[If you enjoyed listening to this broadcast, or any of their other programmes – you can listen online – please do consider making a donation]
“Sheraton please”
August 27th, 2010"Sheraton please" I said in what I hoped was passable Mandarin – "Sheraton ching". I’d jumped into a taxi close to where I was staying in the suburbs of Urumqi, heading towards the centre of the city. Not decadence, just practicality. On my first day I’d trekked the five or so miles to the heart of the provincial capital. Tired by the heat, I’d decided to take a taxi, rather than walk, back to my lodgings, only to discover the fare was just a pound.
A return trip by taxi was simple enough. I’d a card with the address of my lodgings written on it in Chinese to show to the driver. But, at first, I’d been a bit flummoxed as to how to explain where I’d want to go in the centre, especially in a place about four times the size of Glasgow or Edinburgh. Then I’d hit on the idea of a landmark I might be able to easily find the address for in Chinese. Like the Sheraton Hotel I’d spotted the previous day. Bilingual website, so straightforward to track down directions, and five minutes effort to carefully transcribe the characters onto a scrap of paper.
Seemed to work, even if the driver appeared a little confused as to why I stopped the taxi a little short of the hotel. The website indicated they preferred Category 3 guests, but, whilst I’d not been able to access details, I’d a shrewd idea I probably didn’t fit the profile.
The English teacher
August 26th, 2010"Simplicity is the ultimate simplification" – Leonardo da Vinci
Seems there’d been a bit of a ruckus in a New York outlet of a well known coffee chain. An English professor refusing to succumb to their contrived terminology for a simple beverage. On the other side of the world, I’d been merely been seeking to help refine the cafe culture. In my never ending search for the very best cup of coffee, I’d found a delightful little establishment. But, try as I might, no matter what I ordered, the result was the same. Espresso. Single shot.
My efforts to have my cup topped up with hot water, a more palatable drink, caused great confusion. Quite possible because the Chinese for water – shui – is very similar to their word for yes. As in yes please, one shot of espresso, or one accompanying bottle of spring water. Feeling despondent, I’d returned to my seat, resigned to yet another perky little number. Pleasant enough, but, ordinarily, a bit too strong for my tastes.
Sensing my difficulties, Chenyan introduced herself. She taught English at a local junior school. Could she help? Smiling, I quickly sketched out in her notebook the ingredients for a black Americano – espresso and hot water. A few moments wait, and then success. At last. Maybe I should just have asked for a half-caf tall triple shot Americano, hold the latte in the first place. Whatever that is in Chinese.
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