tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45354443025319728292024-03-05T09:06:51.763+03:00Bike Back HomeA Journey by Bicycle from South Korea to IrelandAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-62575766340076255522017-01-24T19:11:00.000+03:002017-01-27T13:39:16.107+03:00Iran: Cycling towards Turkey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cycling through Iran, towards Turkey</div>
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Our Donations page is still open until June if it tickles your fancy to donate to a cause which needs more focus in Ireland.<br />
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https://give.everydayhero.com/ie/bikebackhome<br />
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Grassy ass!</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-21444819074811770002017-01-11T22:34:00.002+03:002017-01-27T13:38:44.851+03:00Iran: Hospitable and Hot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I can confirm that August is the wrong month to cycle through Iran! Hot as the flames of hell!</div>
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Our Donations page is still open until June if it tickles your fancy to donate to a cause which needs more focus in Ireland.</div>
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https://give.everydayhero.com/ie/bikebackhome</div>
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Grassy ass!</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-75634044880684936882016-11-22T18:42:00.001+03:002016-11-22T18:44:35.026+03:00A Brief Round Up and a Thank You<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, that’s it. We have now <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">biked</i> back home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re here, it’s all over, we made it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We cycled home from South Korea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last few months seem to have gone by in
somewhat of a blur, and all of a sudden it’s over. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being back in Dublin, surrounded by all
things familiar and comfortable, the rose-tinted glasses have been firmly
affixed to our faces, remembering all the good things and times, while the
difficulties have all conveniently slipped from our minds!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve actually already left Dublin again and
am now in the French Alps for the winter, where I’ve swapped my bike for a pair
of skis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life on the bike seems like a
dream, a different lifetime ago, and sometimes I find myself wondering, did I
even do it? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We arrived into Dublin port on Saturday the
15<sup>th</sup> of October to a right hero’s welcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All our family, and loads of our friends,
were there at the port waving banners and ready to cycle the last few
kilometers with us up the quays to the city centre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We couldn’t have asked for a better arrival
home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We left Holyhead in the rain but
by the time Dublin was in sight the sun was shinning and the sky had totally
cleared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cycling up the quays surrounded
by familiar places and faces was a feeling I won’t forget in a hurry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The magnitude of the journey, the long road
home, slowing began to sink in and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shed a tear
or two as my little heart swelled with pride at what we’d achieved.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After the highs and lows of central Asia,
followed by the intense heat of Iran in August, Turkey and beyond through
Europe all seemed like a bit of a doddle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Meeting my folks, who’d driven out from Dublin, in Turkey, helped us feel
like we were almost home too - or at the very least, on the home straight! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eager to get home by then, and with a slight
cooling off of the weather in September, we gunned it and cycled from Greece to
England without a day off! I had been dreading cycling through England if I’m
honest, in much the same way that I hate flying through Heathrow – so close to
home but still so far away, but the sun shone for us, the roads were quiet, the
drivers were very respectful of bikes and the relief of finally being able to
speak English without slowing down or gesticulating wildly was a very welcome
change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The availability of beans and
sausages for brekkie was no small part of the enjoyment of the place either and
the fact that we had friends and family dotted along the way didn’t hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We very quickly adapted back to modern living
with all the comforts we usually take for granted but had been so long without.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t a hard transition let me tell you!</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And what next you might ask? Well, the French
Alps have called, and we’ve answered! We’re off to work for a chalet company
for the ski season while we consider our next move, and maybe even plan our
next cycle! Our fundraising page is still open (<a href="https://give.everydayhero.com/ie/bikebackhome#/">https://give.everydayhero.com/ie/bikebackhome#/</a>)
and will remain so until January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
have raised just over €24000 and are completely blown away by the support that
we have received from everyone around us, be it in donations to our chosen
charity, Jigsaw, or emotional support in the form of messages and kind words,
or just by taking an interest in the two of us and our little adventure that
was Bike Back Home. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-71903639790453847612016-11-09T14:21:00.000+03:002016-11-09T14:21:07.655+03:00Video: Tajikistan part 3: The Wakhan Corridor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Tajikistan: The Wakhan Corridor, along the Panj River on the border with Afghanistan </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/zPjr-vsTmnI/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zPjr-vsTmnI?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-48257659192358516972016-09-25T12:45:00.000+03:002016-09-25T12:45:27.250+03:00Part Two of the Pamir Highway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Part two of the Pamir Highway.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I didn't use music in this video as I felt it gives a better sense of our weeks in Tajikistan</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/U78JLZXih6w/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/U78JLZXih6w?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-28929992470525122042016-09-23T14:56:00.002+03:002016-09-24T14:31:49.173+03:00The Shit that goes Wrong/Bad Shit #2<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Shit that goes Wrong/Bad Shit. Part 2.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve updated the title of this series. Mostly because shit
doesn’t always go wrong, but sometimes bad shit just happens, - it’s a nuanced
distinction but one I think is necessary - and, partly because the distinction
gives me more crap/shit to waffle about. In my mind that’s always a good thing,
often to the abject sorrow of others. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So once again, just to keep people up to date, (a bit like a
“previously, on Shit that goes Wrong) this piece is about Shit that goes Wrong/Bad Shit, Meltdowns, and People who are Gas Tickets Altogether.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Shit that goes
Wrong/Bad Shit.</b> The crux of this episode of Shit
that goes Wrong/Bad Shit was written in terms of absolute irony in order to
mitigate imaginative disgust overload!<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
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<b>Preamble: written without irony (Irony OFF)</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cycling for days through endless desert has its ups and
downs, and very few lefts and rights (sorry). It seems like chronically slow
progress, most of the time, mostly because the scenery changes based on the
speed the clouds are moving. Sometimes there aren’t even any clouds! Then it
just feels like a 10 hour spinning class on a balcony in Dundrum. Luckily, being the imaginative folk we are, we
kept ourselves entertained through those long days by playing; guess the road
kill, who smelled the road kill first, or truck-or-bus (an ingenious game where
you have to guess if there’s a truck or a bus coming behind you based on its
engine and horn sound). The unchanging countryside
is especially unchanging in China where the landscapes towards the west are immense
in size, and apparently on a clear day you can see your own backside at the end
of some of the straighter roads. I could only see pain, and the sand that was blowing in our faces with the brutal headwind!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cJOgIHiBSVgw7W_PYTxGsT8mliKHp4oHNnwHPQ-x_oLvT5nIpQyYQjA34FRwQ8kElzwxkNTpbv_EayhiMqmnw_gQzmhZldkY1tB3aWNKTUteIf7QWrmlcRDpTRgjgYf_z5uSuxuqrcrQ/s1600/IMG_7250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cJOgIHiBSVgw7W_PYTxGsT8mliKHp4oHNnwHPQ-x_oLvT5nIpQyYQjA34FRwQ8kElzwxkNTpbv_EayhiMqmnw_gQzmhZldkY1tB3aWNKTUteIf7QWrmlcRDpTRgjgYf_z5uSuxuqrcrQ/s400/IMG_7250.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing Northern China</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We camped only a few times in China as the camping potential
wasn’t the best due to the 1.4 billion people living, working, and farming
everywhere - except for the desert which was either bloody hot or bloody cold, windy, baron, and mostly quite
inhospitable. Also, accommodation was cheap as chips. So were sunglasses
incidentally. You can get polarised Ray Bans that just haven’t been RayBanized
with a logo, for 2 Dollars. But I can feel an irrelevant, fugue state of
waffle about to consume me so I’m gonna take a deep breath and get right back
on track here…. Shit that goes Wrong/Bad Shit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIqMdzp-qNys5xKJI4-ANHxioDt90EXx-NXPE3CdmkZpMxTfXQgWb0krjvrAS4gz90Fk5mfzOheYS1Xiv8JZ6lDtyPhKidDWKN0Ep1bZCdDGOyw3OGkalf5kVVSHjF0tPvtmsmjZdXu4Q/s1600/IMG_6810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIqMdzp-qNys5xKJI4-ANHxioDt90EXx-NXPE3CdmkZpMxTfXQgWb0krjvrAS4gz90Fk5mfzOheYS1Xiv8JZ6lDtyPhKidDWKN0Ep1bZCdDGOyw3OGkalf5kVVSHjF0tPvtmsmjZdXu4Q/s400/IMG_6810.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert Camping</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
After about 2 weeks of fairly relentless desert cycling we
arrived at the border to the Xinjiang province. This area is unfortunately most
known for the continuing tension and conflict that exists between the Han
Chinese and Uighur populations, the latter wanting independence from China. For
us, however, it marked the, delight filled, very last stretch of the unendingly
massive cycle across China! So we decided we’d stay somewhere relatively
decent. i.e. we’d spend more than a fiver on it! We couldn’t seem to find much
in the bizarre, bustling truck-stop area we cycled into just at the police-border checkpoint. So we settled for a place that looked like it also had a
decent restaurant. After food we were shown to our windowless room in the pits
of what turned out to be an utter hell hole!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>From here on this
story is written in terms of complete and absolute irony for the sake of your
safety/sanity. (Irony ON)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We glided down the salubrious hallway of the palatial
accommodation to our room, which despite having no windows, was extravagantly
decorated. It felt almost like we had walked into an alpine meadow on a warm
summer’s eve. And luckily it didn’t smell at all, not even one iota! Fabulous.
As we slowly unpacked what we needed and prepared for bed, in our entirely bug
free room by the way, we reminisced on some of the more awful places we had stayed and
felt a calm graciousness descend upon us: how lucky we were to have found
this oasis of purity and comfort. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpVD0efkpqmf92HOyFT7MUgmoxu43IlN5sU2nYgaK51K1HgdVGw_B9S5LatVor7TsFXCbZf27gFvsX9l40Sw9KjaHdgyJrj3ecFupppWKTi-M6WHoQfVLzD0j_0vRxWKDZSaCLY5cBqMsp/s1600/DSC02906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpVD0efkpqmf92HOyFT7MUgmoxu43IlN5sU2nYgaK51K1HgdVGw_B9S5LatVor7TsFXCbZf27gFvsX9l40Sw9KjaHdgyJrj3ecFupppWKTi-M6WHoQfVLzD0j_0vRxWKDZSaCLY5cBqMsp/s400/DSC02906.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A visual feeling of our wonderful accommodation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During the night I awoke and needed to use
the toilet. A number two, don’t you know, chortle, chortle. What a pleasant
experience it was, and in such a lovely, spacious, well ventilated environment.
I left, on a cloud of flowers and summer winds which carried me back into the
comfort of sleep's serenity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB1ZPCAK1PByKTdDwhlZC8djwg2i_ujxNwCwYLy_bSMLer2ymCq9WboZAmv0zUKrWji5EvruPytRJHIupzuAQmhkZ-69QRsTQklEIypY4kOjtP7NMaqcpnYJHWFLGG3RoYcm785Nx1oV2Z/s1600/20160607175740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB1ZPCAK1PByKTdDwhlZC8djwg2i_ujxNwCwYLy_bSMLer2ymCq9WboZAmv0zUKrWji5EvruPytRJHIupzuAQmhkZ-69QRsTQklEIypY4kOjtP7NMaqcpnYJHWFLGG3RoYcm785Nx1oV2Z/s400/20160607175740.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dreams of beautiful horses galloping through open meadows induced by the fragrances of the room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A little later we awoke, simultaneously to our delight, to a wonderful
fragrance wafting through the room. It was almost as if Mr. Muscle had lifted
us from our slumber with a Glade, Alpine Fresh, Sense and Spray. Wonderful. As
we blinked our bleary eyes into focus on the waking world, we realised that, in
their absolute competence and attention to detail, the guesthouse had built a
beautiful, crystal clear, stream like, water feature right into our accommodation. It sprung straight from the freshest depths
of the spacious environment which I alluded to earlier, and ran like the purest
brook across the glade like floor of our beautiful abode. Splendid.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb7kdMKGpkiYCouynqdxDG5FNFJUnS1FeaqAExocdA4MUtATlWy2waerwnGtVvkF5GBPqQLjcnJ50iDbQ9bR5vRzPKLiVVm1gamgK8JDPJU8moYga21X6XF1ncWxw6iy9DfOWyG1KFlVpM/s1600/20160608104013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb7kdMKGpkiYCouynqdxDG5FNFJUnS1FeaqAExocdA4MUtATlWy2waerwnGtVvkF5GBPqQLjcnJ50iDbQ9bR5vRzPKLiVVm1gamgK8JDPJU8moYga21X6XF1ncWxw6iy9DfOWyG1KFlVpM/s400/20160608104013.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wonderfully fresh water pouring through a well designed water feature</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Needless to say we slept like babies for the rest of the
night and awoke to a feeling of alert freshness that one could only equate to
sleeping under the stars on a warm summer’s night in paradise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjKcBT1ZLA8GfL_Q79ws9PVBazznyZrEB6sg_6fG8vtF60E0MvQ79NvkmeleI8sVtZwzOFIunXFJenSSbvjplKLRNgkjQkYfDRZslzjbi_iGpUmAc3SFnuMibPsYmpMe57tEyXrvUIzwJ/s1600/IMG_6480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjKcBT1ZLA8GfL_Q79ws9PVBazznyZrEB6sg_6fG8vtF60E0MvQ79NvkmeleI8sVtZwzOFIunXFJenSSbvjplKLRNgkjQkYfDRZslzjbi_iGpUmAc3SFnuMibPsYmpMe57tEyXrvUIzwJ/s400/IMG_6480.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stars under which we slept.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In fact the amazing night’s sleep precipitated No.2 (or number 19 if you're actually counting down) on <b>The Meltdown Countdown 2016!</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Meltdown #19 for Stef
(Irony OFF)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What the fuck is that smell”, blurted Stef, as she sprung out
of bed, to the most horrendous, apoplexy inducing stench that might ever have
existed! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It must be understood that at 4am in a busy truck stop that
has kindly accommodated you and your overloaded bikes, there aren’t too many
options for an upgrade. So, we were essentially trapped in Satan’s armpit, in a
weird Mad Max outpost in the boonies of a desert in Western China. Also, the
room initially didn’t look quite as bad as it eventually smelled. And, the Bug
Liberation Organisation only really began their operations once the lights were
out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, in reality the entire escapade caused a double
meltdown as neither of us could realistically handle the face-melting stench.
But, in order to keep the meltdown countdown balanced I’m gonna give this one
to Stef as I truly believe that hers was a far superior meltdown which included
way more desperate expletives.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This meltdown was the inevitable result of tiredness, heat, and the X factor of the, apparently completely un-plumbed toilet, in a giant
bug-republic of a windowless death-stench room. Not wonderful! And did I
mention the stench! Oooohhhhhhh god the stench. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Moving swiftly along, the next section, <b>People who are</b> <b>Gas Tickets Altogether,</b>
will be relatively short this week…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>People who are</b> <b>Gas Tickets Altogether. (The Fountain of Irony)</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The young lad who pleasantly greeted us at the desk of the
death-stench room hotel: "Of course sir, we have a lovely room for you and your
wife!"<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Some ticket you are, buddy!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Nick Doranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171601608203346863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-74792219185805270232016-08-28T20:43:00.000+03:002016-08-28T20:43:16.016+03:00Tajikistan: Pamirs Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The start of our climb to 4,655 meters through the Pamir Mountains</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/U3Ef0VEQjDk/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/U3Ef0VEQjDk?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-5205404582733869402016-08-28T18:32:00.002+03:002016-08-28T18:38:53.950+03:00Turkish DelightWe haven't actually had any Turkish Delight yet, although we do hear very good things about it, but it was some delight crossing over the border from Iran and shedding that headscarf let me tell you. There was a bin right next to the X-Ray machine that our bikes and bags had to go through which I gladly dumped my scarf into and had a little celebratory chuckle to myself. I waited until I was outside and away from the border guards to shed the rest. What a welcome to Turkey it was!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1mUhkcOoGeWLXWWeCHfYQdkrmns2hHtgOTfpUoPH82kL8sSgQMNnKdVKPe2u_4MhuqLfKy8D0728znQFvArCTgfQeo_6B02IRNgPFZw0BR_aZBEqTPRCHNOA2mzSVdFURp4NYm1HAI20/s1600/IMG_4221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1mUhkcOoGeWLXWWeCHfYQdkrmns2hHtgOTfpUoPH82kL8sSgQMNnKdVKPe2u_4MhuqLfKy8D0728znQFvArCTgfQeo_6B02IRNgPFZw0BR_aZBEqTPRCHNOA2mzSVdFURp4NYm1HAI20/s400/IMG_4221.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first view of Turkey, and where I took off my long legs and sleeves and felt pure freedom after the confines of the Iranian dress code</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We've been here almost two weeks now and although the weather here is cooler, and significantly less humid, than in Iran, the cycling has been tougher than anticipated. I suppose a quick glance at the topography of the country would have had me a bit more prepared for the mountainous terrain, but we don't usually do much of that, preferring to just get up and go and take it as it comes.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
So what's Turkey been like? Beautiful. It's been beautiful. The weather being that bit cooler has helped, as has the fact that the roads are very quiet. In Iran we met a Swiss cyclist who told us Turkey's road were better than Iran's, and much quieter. We looked at each other doubtfully. How could that possibly be the case, Iran has great roads. But it's true. The roads are great and they <i>are</i> really quiet. We've been on main roads and motorways almost the whole time but with hardly any traffic and a huge hard shoulder they haven't felt like main roads. They also don't have big barriers down the sides and in the middle of the roads, which gives you a much greater sense of space and feeling of freedom as you pedal along. There's no separation between you and the surrounding countryside. It's such a small thing but it's something that we've noticed makes such a big difference to your appreciation of where you are. Some of the scenery we've passed through here in Turkey has been similar to some of the Chinese landscapes, especially those in the Western province of Xinjiang, but with one major difference, and that's the safety barriers and fences in China. They were endless and totally impenetrable and gave us a real sense of being hemmed in but it's just not like that here.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ00PNx4tNZvtQEcQBBN6dDaVsxGjM4y0R8SZ-T7N7arAymHNCT0HedOEi5OBZm3qDD26tzvuVbxO8GM4hKSz7EnA23HGrsIL6P2YGxdpI2Ar702eqNPQp_ljwFLHiBLBLNkZZgVMTwxo/s1600/IMG_4261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ00PNx4tNZvtQEcQBBN6dDaVsxGjM4y0R8SZ-T7N7arAymHNCT0HedOEi5OBZm3qDD26tzvuVbxO8GM4hKSz7EnA23HGrsIL6P2YGxdpI2Ar702eqNPQp_ljwFLHiBLBLNkZZgVMTwxo/s400/IMG_4261.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long, well-surfaced, empty roads</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqT9uoN_t15YqhKDrKiB3fsd07TWIn1fbbHCV7y9s0m6RBc8WNNiM5QeZIix13k4MGp0VoA-q5o-dtzp8LO0cTaoaw8anWnzodxtJwf1iAm9pIQasDMYTLryWFt4Ri1JuCIcqrfCJvG6I/s1600/IMG_4392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqT9uoN_t15YqhKDrKiB3fsd07TWIn1fbbHCV7y9s0m6RBc8WNNiM5QeZIix13k4MGp0VoA-q5o-dtzp8LO0cTaoaw8anWnzodxtJwf1iAm9pIQasDMYTLryWFt4Ri1JuCIcqrfCJvG6I/s400/IMG_4392.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful scenery and one of our lovely camp spots</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The first town we came to in Turkey, Doğubeyazit, was noticeably much poorer and much edgier than any we'd been through in Iran. There were more people of every kind out on the streets, buying and selling, hawking, hustling and bustling. There were kids roaming about, some playing, some working, some annoying passersby. There was lots of rubbish and quite a lot of the buildings and shop fronts were pretty dilapidated and ramshackled. There were much more women out and about than there had been in Iran, and although still quite conservatively dressed, there were plenty without a head covering of any kind.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBebAfesM36XfdJiHAgBdBKYw9GRLhMDkqGVRDujetSViZshV1fFo-dbGQ4HQB2kiNQMkFLbzPxP1Yjr5lizPtcnOc0NegvCAuxXIzPg-kULhjSaQP8pFppzzEGngaF7NOk5wqZGFxxUo/s1600/IMG_4234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBebAfesM36XfdJiHAgBdBKYw9GRLhMDkqGVRDujetSViZshV1fFo-dbGQ4HQB2kiNQMkFLbzPxP1Yjr5lizPtcnOc0NegvCAuxXIzPg-kULhjSaQP8pFppzzEGngaF7NOk5wqZGFxxUo/s400/IMG_4234.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Doğubeyazit</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The east of the country is very heavily militarised, the most militarised place I've ever travelled through actually, Nick too. Huge, fortified, military compounds with big tall watch towers, heavily armed soldiers and huge tanks and fortified vehicles, the likes of which I've only ever seen in films. In saying all that, every check point we came to we got big waves and hellos. We cycled down a small road leading into a town that was blocked at the end by a huge crowd dispersal water tank type thing. The plain-clothes soldier manning it jumped out, put his handgun into his jeans pocket and asked us all about ourselves, saying it was his dream to one day cycle around the world too. So although there's such a heavy military presence here, it's completely un-intimidating.<br />
<br />
A primarily muslim country, Turkey is mostly comprised of Sunni muslims, unlike Iran which is predominately Shia. I don't know if that's the reason, but the mosques here are much simpler in design, much less imposing and have totally differently shaped minarets. There are none of the ornately decorated onion domes of Iran, and instead the minarets are fairly tale like, tall and thin, and look like something you might find Rapunzel in!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_M-fS_Dh7MUgKQAyF_kTT0yvcBnc0cB_l8Kf3ao7gKzS8OFJwWjnBrplh5PWQNinfjIqIeYSjLYNfW9chfDDKYrLmuIKxA9dRXaD26fdD83AV1uzpFBFsAlV2z-YcKMG2toapQws_EyU/s1600/IMG_4518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_M-fS_Dh7MUgKQAyF_kTT0yvcBnc0cB_l8Kf3ao7gKzS8OFJwWjnBrplh5PWQNinfjIqIeYSjLYNfW9chfDDKYrLmuIKxA9dRXaD26fdD83AV1uzpFBFsAlV2z-YcKMG2toapQws_EyU/s400/IMG_4518.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical example of a Rapunzel like minaret!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It seems to be a very nationalistic country too. There are Turkish flags flying everywhere. Out of apartment windows, on cars and trucks and from the minarets of mosques. Little hand-sized ones, and massive big ones the size of tennis courts, hanging over the fronts of big buildings. I don't know if this is a recent thing, given the recent coup attempt, maybe it is or maybe they all just really love their flag!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1oZPpHJyoWPrtQtCdFG-Ru_pzbwwjF2bAKmFW8Mn3VUO5GgqlWRwsLT5n8S23n9zTXDpTkhJmtXAJQuuHSYaEb7TiyOGQgC18qMD977LqOtqx_A3AuWXEyxfnrePdB9WBDyYpJJHY0c/s1600/IMG_4383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1oZPpHJyoWPrtQtCdFG-Ru_pzbwwjF2bAKmFW8Mn3VUO5GgqlWRwsLT5n8S23n9zTXDpTkhJmtXAJQuuHSYaEb7TiyOGQgC18qMD977LqOtqx_A3AuWXEyxfnrePdB9WBDyYpJJHY0c/s400/IMG_4383.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big flags like these aren't unusual. Either are small ones. There are Turkish flags everywhere.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The food has been delicious, continuing on from Iran. Lots of delicious fresh cheeses, honey to beat the band, yummy fresh crusty bread, olives like you've never tasted, as well as all manner of tasty things that we stumble upon by accident, only to never have again because we forget the name of it as soon as we're told!<br />
<br />
We continue to be bowled over and blown away by the generosity shown to us on a daily basis. It's not done in quite such an obvious way as in Iran, where not a day went by where we didn't receive something from somebody (a piece of fruit, a whole meal, somewhere to stay) but it continues nonetheless. Big smiles, lots of curious faces, waves a plenty and as warm a welcome as you could ever hope for. We've had two offers of free accommodation since we've been here. Both by truck drivers offering to let us sleep in their cabins. The first we refused because it was only 10am but the second we gladly accepted, although in hindsight it was a little cramped with the two of us and the driver, Idris, all sleeping in the cabin. It wasn't the best night's sleep but it was an experience, and the omelette that Idris whipped up for us in the morning was very much appreciated. We said our thank you's, took the obligatory photo together and went on our way.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDz6ad5rqGgpHItDvH3LmsI8Gs3r7-UbuTr2iPsvT7-h8ntILi4H3Q68i-ZfD-WHKWhERHxzE6U2TNasZBKeboC1C_Kz-bUzveqTHqsch2Ns0UcXPXzwJp2IKXvQbBmDVBsgqiF5Bt3E/s1600/IMG_4427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDz6ad5rqGgpHItDvH3LmsI8Gs3r7-UbuTr2iPsvT7-h8ntILi4H3Q68i-ZfD-WHKWhERHxzE6U2TNasZBKeboC1C_Kz-bUzveqTHqsch2Ns0UcXPXzwJp2IKXvQbBmDVBsgqiF5Bt3E/s400/IMG_4427.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our bed for the night, in Idris's trucks cabin. A little tight for three!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniDISd6KTHWIGyAeZcmxxfufhQ1kYOtorHWJvCKTtBVwyzUUzyLPqrvDiklg_vCJtvqMYB4oXdqie2Wdn2Favy87y85rZnvHfO77fIyojDVslA6NEEekytgxuN7OaHAaLuyHyYlTHAbg/s1600/IMG_4428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniDISd6KTHWIGyAeZcmxxfufhQ1kYOtorHWJvCKTtBVwyzUUzyLPqrvDiklg_vCJtvqMYB4oXdqie2Wdn2Favy87y85rZnvHfO77fIyojDVslA6NEEekytgxuN7OaHAaLuyHyYlTHAbg/s400/IMG_4428.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brekkie the next morning couldn't have been better though. Who knew trucks were actually just massive camper vans!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We're in a small town called Göreme now. It's in Cappodocia and it's the most fantastically magical place I've every been to. The whole region is made up of these odd looking stacks and rock formations. They are really old volcanic eruptions apparently, that have been weathered by rain and wind and people have been living in them for centuries. The place we're staying in, Fairy Chimney Inn, is totally idyllic. It's up the hill from the town, so away from any of the hustle and bustle, and it's just about the most peaceful place you can imagine. We have the place virtually to ourselves (one of the great things, from our point of view, about all the recent trouble in Turkey is the lack of tourists. It's pretty awful for all the business owners though), and the hot air balloons that Cappadocia is so famous for, glide right past our windows in the morning. It's been the most relaxing place we've stopped yet and with our batteries now well and truly recharged, we're both ready to hit the road again tomorrow, full of beans to meet the parentals who are currently driving hell for leather out from Ireland to meet us!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgEgHvu5rnXPOp7t3xx8czTLlelA4xV8pSzJQ1pzvEsWuiAUNsCEvGefrxSuLFoiI6UnRZUt-JCbqIt5kpSOLyohS0dieHB3gEYE-xWrbe5Cf6Eye_iCeqH7Ct2xn-Rizv1kV7ryLsz4/s1600/IMG_4446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgEgHvu5rnXPOp7t3xx8czTLlelA4xV8pSzJQ1pzvEsWuiAUNsCEvGefrxSuLFoiI6UnRZUt-JCbqIt5kpSOLyohS0dieHB3gEYE-xWrbe5Cf6Eye_iCeqH7Ct2xn-Rizv1kV7ryLsz4/s400/IMG_4446.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHa4SOw0kaKH4kgcN51VL3lySs2SFs67cL6fCnFjge76r9sIrveUiz4tqJvWZO9xgdj75F7WJcqWOx9V-vbvum7wZSfyxpY7mrwjjxGh3gjg0ZvyMUPc7qtX6zjWfPGXwt8f3NIs5V1o/s1600/IMG_4448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHa4SOw0kaKH4kgcN51VL3lySs2SFs67cL6fCnFjge76r9sIrveUiz4tqJvWZO9xgdj75F7WJcqWOx9V-vbvum7wZSfyxpY7mrwjjxGh3gjg0ZvyMUPc7qtX6zjWfPGXwt8f3NIs5V1o/s400/IMG_4448.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLalI7vVUkzPJiWxY3ZoGvu6Kc1yh4LgMpaUUqkUT53c5Z4G1e1NNQjgp1-x6z3dC8YEEV8zHmT-6ZHisng1ze2xub77e2DsrrX8y9C9oGtA_qNbzfJxj3Buck9eWNTX1H86Jg21j9QxY/s1600/IMG_4456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLalI7vVUkzPJiWxY3ZoGvu6Kc1yh4LgMpaUUqkUT53c5Z4G1e1NNQjgp1-x6z3dC8YEEV8zHmT-6ZHisng1ze2xub77e2DsrrX8y9C9oGtA_qNbzfJxj3Buck9eWNTX1H86Jg21j9QxY/s400/IMG_4456.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The terrace outside our room where we have watched the hot air balloons from each morning. Awfully relaxing altogether!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTfgamG6a_IkYRoemQ2TTS1KWQYiy6UqworEY8b_5HEma-ocWUhnczOo9stfqS4WoqRo592cEHcNkosa52REvhsYWiPkQj0gzFyHE4ucE7AsIpCM6LxyFRFdOFgRj1JJqbx64yjCMRqKE/s1600/IMG_4566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTfgamG6a_IkYRoemQ2TTS1KWQYiy6UqworEY8b_5HEma-ocWUhnczOo9stfqS4WoqRo592cEHcNkosa52REvhsYWiPkQj0gzFyHE4ucE7AsIpCM6LxyFRFdOFgRj1JJqbx64yjCMRqKE/s400/IMG_4566.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For more photos, as always, check our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bikebackhome/">Facebook</a> page or click on the link below:<br />
<br />
<div class="fb-post" data-href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10157265436340065&type=1&l=6e0b5a0c75" data-width="500" data-show-text="true"><blockquote cite="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10157265436340065&type=3" class="fb-xfbml-parse-ignore">Posted by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/stef.russell">Stef Russell</a> on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10157265436340065&type=3">Wednesday, August 17, 2016</a></blockquote></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-38788398768368723722016-08-11T14:03:00.002+03:002016-08-11T17:45:21.897+03:00The Shit that Goes Wrong<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve been dying to write a blog post for ages but I’ve been
stuck in the debilitating conundrum of either making a video, or sticking up a written
piece. So, in an effort to make up for
my lack of writing I’ve decided to write a short post about everything of
immediate interest, all in one fell swoop and with a focus on keeping waffle to
a minimum. I believe I have a tendency to maximise waffle! </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Think of it as a
running roundup of the trip’s quirkier events. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like Sport Sunday, but with
bicycles and a romantic subplot. I think I’m already starting to waffle! Anyway,
I’m also sometimes going to work backwards. Partly because we’re in Iran and
they write backwards, and partly in order to jog my memory. So apologies if it
reads like were going in the opposite direction. And, just to confuse things
even more, this time I’m going to work retrospectively forwards.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m going to focus on three themes: shit that goes wrong,
people who are gas tickets altogether, and meltdowns! As it's difficult to write about everything that goes wrong in one go I will write about one of
each theme when possible, and update additional shit going wrong etc. as the
weeks go by. Everybody always wants to hear about the shit that goes wrong. Just
part of the human condition I suppose.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Meltdown Countdown</b>
#<b>20<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(I don’t know if there have even been 20 meltdowns but I’m
gonna run with this figure until further notice)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the moment we are sitting in a café in Tabriz after
having cycled nearly 8,000 kilometres since central South Korea. We burned
through 132 of those eclectic kilometres yesterday in a push to get to Tabriz
for a two day break, which we had been foaming at the mouth to take. I mean
foaming at the mouth both literally and metaphorically. The last 900 kilometres
in Iran have seen a solid build-up of spittle develop in my mouth corners due
to the sun operating from about 32 feet above our heads. The only thing that
gives me conflicted, and pained empathetic comfort is that Stef has to
cycle in a head scarf, long sleeves and leggings, ha ha, sorry Stef. I wouldn’t
be surprised if you see her on the news streaking through Turkey once we cross
the border. That would go down as the best meltdown yet if it happens: fingers
crossed, it would make for a great blog post! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We’d been about even on our meltdown count up to Iran. It
turns out that this was primarily due to cycling attire that is climate
appropriate. For instance in the Hexi Corridor in China, when it dropped to
around minus 13, or the day we left Korea when it was minus 15, I didn’t once
consider cycling in my underwear. Luckily I didn’t have to. As I write this Stef is vigorously contesting
the increase in her meltdown count. I’m claiming that as another meltdown. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I suppose I’d better define “meltdown” in the context of
this journey, just so we know what we’re dealing with here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Meltdown: a flair-up in complex and fiery negative emotion,
usually spontaneous and completely uncalled for, that is passively misdirected
at either the nearest inanimate object, or person, and invariably resulting
from one of the 5 following conditions: tiredness, hunger, thirst, temperature
(too hot or too cold), or the X factor (not the TV show, although that would be
an appropriate and well-directed meltdown).
Any expression of legitimate grievances do not count as “meltdowns”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PyJ8k6texaCqM_IITQSFCCOqrQizb47CQqZCCQNPVel1Bk0NHs-vzY3Bf3NsCXnNpMVsR5AxHDTN4PqpEvHsbCEsVMY88bdaemDlG4vaFYPwqpGglcYAlS4Y5FrsEvSnaSqsIcr02t_c/s1600/IMG_0913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PyJ8k6texaCqM_IITQSFCCOqrQizb47CQqZCCQNPVel1Bk0NHs-vzY3Bf3NsCXnNpMVsR5AxHDTN4PqpEvHsbCEsVMY88bdaemDlG4vaFYPwqpGglcYAlS4Y5FrsEvSnaSqsIcr02t_c/s400/IMG_0913.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I was unable to find a photo of my meltdown. So, instead, here I am sharing a private joke with a Chinese baby</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In China the first major meltdown on the Meltdown Countdown
2016 went to me (Nick). Here’s how the Meltdown went down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We bought the amazing treat of two Dove/Galaxy chocolate
bars and cycled about 80 kilometres before lunch, on one of the first days when
the temperature had notably increased. This was okay though because chocolate time
was just around the corner! Also, we were running a little late for lunch and I
was feeling a little tired. This was okay though because chocolate time was just
around the corner! It turns out that a
little bit of three meltdown conditions can be the magic number on the path to
the Meltdown Countdown. I had been
dreaming about the two Dove bars that Stef was carrying for the previous 40
kilometres or so, and the sweet, beautiful, sugary chocolate time was almost
upon us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We pulled in, and ate a completely unsatisfying lunch in one
of the many Chinese restaurants that nuke their food with Sichuan pepper. This
was okay though because chocolate time was just around the corner. I burst out
the door to retrieve the two bars of silky </span>chocolatey<span style="font-family: inherit;"> goodness only to find that
they had both reached a molten hot liquid state! But, drink them as hot
chocolate, the reasonable person might say. Not me! I took the pure, unbridled
meltdown option and threw the two bars on the floor in an apoplectic state of
fury while cursing and blinding at the utter injustice of the universe. This
was possibly the worst day of my life. And all because the lady loves to melt
the Milk Tray (sorry).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Meltdown Countdown Count Nick 1 Stef 0<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">People who are gas
tickets altogether<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A gas ticket of a magician was breathing and juggling fire
on the ferry-crossing from Korea to China, while a large group of increasingly
drunk and rowdy men in the front row got their tops off for a combination of
the craic, and the increase in temperature from the fireballs the magician was
spitting in their direction. This was
the last thing we expected to see on a ferry crossing. Either health and safety
regulations got lost in translation in international waters, or they just
figure that fun with fire on the boat trumps potential consequences. I vouch
for the latter, and I’d hazard a guess that the topless Korean men who
subsequently began a chest slapping competition while laughing heartily as the
flames got ever more intense and closer, had the same inclination. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="data:image/gif;base64,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" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45e5OV7UW9Jeqf1Z6bdVu7neffJtrHuRmOEKmBuDXAgbZpV77sOXxIuA6useprBMo7u3wRktHY78WVh8LZjO-trlen4EMoi1CLgMMJCjBXRM-ETPl_i8KYtrOfebevvNSiJSTfm35HwT_/s1600/IMG_4837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45e5OV7UW9Jeqf1Z6bdVu7neffJtrHuRmOEKmBuDXAgbZpV77sOXxIuA6useprBMo7u3wRktHY78WVh8LZjO-trlen4EMoi1CLgMMJCjBXRM-ETPl_i8KYtrOfebevvNSiJSTfm35HwT_/s400/IMG_4837.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The Flaming Ceiling ferry-fire act begins</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I just about resisted the temptation to join in with some
unbridled, fiery chest slapping.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwN1OePObzvKOhPW5ZruE6xv6W6NsSFLmDnKxEPLV_BrvZy7T8drk0atr9w7DPgXniTs5r4N9o8cjLMSd4ZYbP_vmhOdQP9kKCqJYOYRDy4KpYz4zw62NasUWX5r8Lnqu6-UlElPsIbfPv/s1600/IMG_4841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwN1OePObzvKOhPW5ZruE6xv6W6NsSFLmDnKxEPLV_BrvZy7T8drk0atr9w7DPgXniTs5r4N9o8cjLMSd4ZYbP_vmhOdQP9kKCqJYOYRDy4KpYz4zw62NasUWX5r8Lnqu6-UlElPsIbfPv/s400/IMG_4841.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">First top off and up for a song before act 2 of Flaming Ceiling begins</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Gas tickets altogether so they were!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Shit that goes wrong</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve been lucky enough on this trip to have very, very
little go wrong and when shit does go wrong it’s usually only very little:
melting Dove bars being a prime example. Also, when I say “lucky”, actually the
trip running so smoothly is in large part due to the organisational prowess of
the Almighty Grand Mufti, Ayatollah, Chief Justice Stef Russell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That said, there have been a few things that are
retrospectively high in comedic/idiotic value. For instance; within a week of
leaving from South Korea our knees switched to 90-year- old-arthritic-grandparent
mode. Neither of us piped up about it because it seemed inconsequential at
first. In fact even as the pain developed neither of us piped up about it as it
got to the stage in each of us that it could have spelled the end of the trip.
PANIC! And herein lies the classic idiocy of the human condition: it’s not a
problem until you admit to yourself and others that it’s a problem. Add to that
the classic Irish condition of “sure twill be grand” and you’re looking for
trouble. Anyway, eventually and tentatively, piping up teased itself out and we
tried to figure out a solution. The state of us! It really could have gotten to
a journey stopping stage. The combination of cold weather, low-rider,
big-pimpin’ saddle positions, and recalcitrance is never a good thing. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m6O0PZAQoBqmjGEScdmCSNLH2Swhnv1-24WhOuZJjDsSWvXyZjctS15J89XXPITuYCs1epwaPLePWFIw-1iNyGsGJ8Vp8gjoAmE1EOih12A3Xh4v4aBcoW4V3p6pFvwwkl49PZmlHx6f/s1600/DSC03243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m6O0PZAQoBqmjGEScdmCSNLH2Swhnv1-24WhOuZJjDsSWvXyZjctS15J89XXPITuYCs1epwaPLePWFIw-1iNyGsGJ8Vp8gjoAmE1EOih12A3Xh4v4aBcoW4V3p6pFvwwkl49PZmlHx6f/s400/DSC03243.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We unfortunately have no photos of swollen knees that clearly reflect the pain we felt. So instead here are happier times in Kyrgyzstan, with fully operational knee joints. Also, on closer inspection I think you'll find that the light was very sympathetic to the pythons/guns/pipes/solicitors!</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">So after about a week of nascent arthritis, we both sat in a
café trying to figure out what we could do. Then suddenly, and glaringly the
angle of our saddles became completely apparent. Why it hadn’t before is a
mystery; maybe it was the excitement of embarking, or the focus on the freezing
temperatures, who knows. Either way, we adjusted our saddle positions and since
then we have had the knees of juvenile kangaroos on lunar bouncy castles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ah life is good on the road! It’s not all meltdowns, fire
breathing head-bangers and knee pain. Sometimes you get a hundred kilometres of
downhill with a tail wind on a smooth road. It’s on those days where no one
throws a hissy fit, breaths fire or aches in baleful pain!<br /><br />Thanks for reading. Delighted to get that out of my system!</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Nick Doranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171601608203346863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-14988750996338018052016-08-11T13:30:00.000+03:002016-08-12T17:03:17.464+03:00Welcome to Iran<span style="font-family: inherit;">'Welcome to Iran' is shouted out the windows of almost every car that passes us. People in the street say it to us too, followed by 'What is your country?'. This question is usually followed with 'How do you like Iran?', an easy question to answer - we love it here. What's not so easy to answer however is when they shyly ask next 'Why do people from the west think we are all terrorists?' Why indeed. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtlIM4bIQ-2mYkLPjOyztYSKQsocdo1lScOkkiYQkzxenH-VpDbEwnEnBTzoo8ppz8PZnXFJ-fPtq8VrIZ9lvyItpFH0-yVeWjWl2XlinvDwd95n6eFHohi1etGF9annM9cofPJegHRc/s1600/IMG_3905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtlIM4bIQ-2mYkLPjOyztYSKQsocdo1lScOkkiYQkzxenH-VpDbEwnEnBTzoo8ppz8PZnXFJ-fPtq8VrIZ9lvyItpFH0-yVeWjWl2XlinvDwd95n6eFHohi1etGF9annM9cofPJegHRc/s400/IMG_3905.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our taxi from the airport. 3 people, 3 bikes....no bother!</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Neither Nick nor I have ever been anywhere where the welcome has been so big, so widespread and so overwhelming in its sincerity. We have stayed in countless Iranian families homes, we have been fed and watered and not a day has gone by where we haven't received something free of charge. The welcome is huge and across the board: children and adults; city folk and country folk; rich and poor Iranians. They seem delighted to have people visit their country and ignore the 'black news', the bad press this country seems to generate in the western media. They do their utmost to help us and leave us with lasting good impressions, to hopefully go home and spread the word. Which we will, we tell anyone who asks. The hospitality and friendliness towards us isn't just a bid to change the country's awful reputation abroad though. It seems to be an inbuilt characteristic of Iranians. They are a family and community oriented people, and if you enter into their community it seems you get treated as part of it. It's not a need or a task they feel they must perform. It's a default response and they seem to get as much happiness and joy out of the interactions with us as we do with them. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We
arrived in Tehran on Sunday July 24th, after what was one of the most mental
check-in experiences in Dushanbe airport. We hadn't registered in
Tajikistan - something you are supposed to do if you stay longer than 30 days,
regardless of how long your visa is valid for - and there appeared to be an
official way of dealing with our lack of registration, and an unofficial way! The official way would
have seen us being sent somewhere to fill out the required forms and pay a fine
of about $200 each, as well as missing our flight. The unofficial way
meant we greased someone’s palm quite generously and were ushered through to
the check-in desks in hushed tones! <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2TL1dZzxYDoRFZO5OgB9oeXd_7zIQmOTHlXwFRX5lU5uQXHOVFoWUWLD7yrm2BxqFWZkP30-Wk7Sjc2BQM9Fl3m_ssNsLnpkwbXXY5on39qW5QRrRvJIP__eB5u4i0ovi2sVzcimnto/s1600/IMG_3933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2TL1dZzxYDoRFZO5OgB9oeXd_7zIQmOTHlXwFRX5lU5uQXHOVFoWUWLD7yrm2BxqFWZkP30-Wk7Sjc2BQM9Fl3m_ssNsLnpkwbXXY5on39qW5QRrRvJIP__eB5u4i0ovi2sVzcimnto/s400/IMG_3933.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look closely at the bottom right hand corner you'll see a chador clad women going about her business</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Next, we had to get the bikes on board the flight. We
knew we’d have to pay excess baggage charges for them, but we hadn’t been
able to find out how much before getting to the airport. We were 56kg over
limit, and at an official rate of €3 per kilo we set about haggling them down
pretty quickly.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">After settling on an
amount, the money was quickly transferred into someone’s pocket and didn’t seem
to be done in any sort of official way at all.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Someone from the airport even followed us to security and told us not to
mention the amount we’d paid to anyone!</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">But with the bikes safely checked-in, we didn’t much mind where the
money had gone.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At
this stage we'd been through three security bag/body scanners, but getting
through security meant going through another two. The queues were pretty
long and disorderly and there didn’t seem to be enough staff so it took
forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily Dushanbe airport is
pretty small because by the time we got through security and boarded it was twenty-past ten and the
plane was due to depart at half past!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anyway, as I said, a bit of a mental airport experience, and one that
left us significantly less well off, but we were on our way to Iran and feeling
pretty excited about it all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Before
getting to Iran, I hadn’t really given the enforced dress code for women much
thought except to hope that I wouldn’t be too hot and sweaty with
long sleeves, long legs, and a headscarf on all the time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn't given any consideration to how it was
going to make me feel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My
experience began on the plane. A 30 something year old, modernly dressed
man in the row behind us, very politely told Nick that I might have some
problems because of my lack of head covering, to which I thanked him and told
him I had a scarf in my bag and would put it on when we landed. His
comment had been friendly and one that was very much made out of concern and a
want to be helpful, in what we would later discover to be true Iranian style. Walking back from the toilet later on in the flight,
an older man (maybe mid 60's and quite conservatively dressed), motioned at his
wife's chador and then at my head in a way that didn't seem as friendly and
helpful, and more an instruction to 'for god's sake woman, cover your head'!,
or at least that's how I interpreted it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sitting
in the airport, waiting for our lift to the hostel, I was very
aware of my headscarf and the restrictions I felt it was imposing on me. I
had no real peripheral vision. Not being used to it, I was constantly
fidgeting with it, fixing it, touching it, checking it. I felt very
covered up, hidden even, although it was just loosely drooped over my head.
I also felt like an imposter, and even would go so far as to say I felt
offensive or even rude, like I was in some way mocking the women who’s reality
it is to wear headscarves on a daily basis. I felt I stood out although I was trying
to blend in. It felt like everyone was looking at me, and I was immediately
very self-conscious and felt quite on edge and a bit irritable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How
much of what I felt initially, and still feel, about wearing a headscarf was to
do with actually being told how to dress by a government, as opposed to my own
ideas and conceptions of what it represents, I’m not sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I feel small and invisible, discriminated
against, because that's what my western mind views the enforced wearing of a
headscarf to be, or is that how it actually made me feel, how society here made me feel,
just by virtue of being covered up?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;">I <i>am</i>
getting more used to wearing it now, but still find it very frustrating. I have become a bit more brazen in my attitude towards it, foreigners seem to be awarded a certain amount of leeway. On the side of the road when we stop for a break I often take it off. The humidity along the Caspian Sea made wearing it cycling almost totally unbearable, and the only way to cool down at all when we stopped was to take it off momentarily. Nobody seems to mind though which is great.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Enough about the headscarf. It dominates my days here as it is, no need for it to dominate this post too. So, what about the rest of the place? What do I think about Iran? We are asked by locals on a daily basis and it's a hard one to answer in any sort of succinct manner.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Emerging from the airport in Tehran, it was
apparent we were no longer in Asia. Things looked and smelt different.
The people looked different. The writing was different.
It's not Asian looking or feeling and it's also not western looking or
feeling either. I suppose that's because it's the Middle East, and I've never been here before!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's a place that seems loaded with seeming
contradictions. Though not compulsory, a lot of women choose to
wear chadors, even in Tehran which I was surprised about having heard that
Tehran is very modern and very fashionable city. I was expecting lots of
designer handbags and sunglasses, but the number of women in chadors far
exceeds the number of women pushing the boundaries on what they can wear,
letting their headscarfs fall right back off the back of their heads
so that only their necks and a small portion of hair is covered.
In the middle of the city, on our first evening we came across a huge
skate park which was blasting out modern house music. Both boys and girls
were in there, on bmx's, skate boards and rollerblades. Seeing, and
hearing, that didn't sit so well with the image we have of Iran as a
restrictive place to live.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEyGRCA4HpfPThJ989hoLyz-NPjEQ_01nT9KX0Dp1jCPFalL3ABYs-JpikzNe1oZGOunCfTOw1Ukkekj-AT8IFjYY41C9CmgSI1474azKhjnUmSG_VWas6h-bVFSLPEvqgq9zccJHb7g/s1600/IMG_3967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEyGRCA4HpfPThJ989hoLyz-NPjEQ_01nT9KX0Dp1jCPFalL3ABYs-JpikzNe1oZGOunCfTOw1Ukkekj-AT8IFjYY41C9CmgSI1474azKhjnUmSG_VWas6h-bVFSLPEvqgq9zccJHb7g/s400/IMG_3967.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skate park in Northern Central Tehran</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6_ZtKCBQp9VGpRdOnlHsyRX7OObL7ryo8dQ7tYAlC0LtyBjLDoH3fOup6AGgMrFrj8YKVY8X2pRryMNIlRDBg1f0h4PgWMOEu4pYU2wPSZbm7hcqBsdhAjGx0OaPWOzi_uIexJ3w_ME/s1600/IMG_3942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6_ZtKCBQp9VGpRdOnlHsyRX7OObL7ryo8dQ7tYAlC0LtyBjLDoH3fOup6AGgMrFrj8YKVY8X2pRryMNIlRDBg1f0h4PgWMOEu4pYU2wPSZbm7hcqBsdhAjGx0OaPWOzi_uIexJ3w_ME/s400/IMG_3942.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old but well maintained propaganda and some conservative women rejecting 'Satan's influence' in Tehran city centre</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmMP6xyPcAqf7gNxcd_IJ7r4bXDpmsmaDoUf9VDXPPeUfKUwrA-wBWNtpu-US8sHZ3IvIxQJWBPjHypcMNzplC-sL7FTPK0zDMnUgqrjL0Lv6nFhyphenhyphenrFKGVJDs9cpIEr4SDi_DlmkfGy0/s1600/IMG_4008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmMP6xyPcAqf7gNxcd_IJ7r4bXDpmsmaDoUf9VDXPPeUfKUwrA-wBWNtpu-US8sHZ3IvIxQJWBPjHypcMNzplC-sL7FTPK0zDMnUgqrjL0Lv6nFhyphenhyphenrFKGVJDs9cpIEr4SDi_DlmkfGy0/s400/IMG_4008.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some typically middle eastern landscapes. However, at the top of this pass, we descending into thick, moisture-laden jungle, taking us both by surprise</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYPtpLl27_l1nCQVwxTGTLGLRRlABDahCMomodstcM0TvRQ29EajuNY-O25UPRv1sSvuIJoSCrLIVnlXhl8IALufSJwhI2bzVpLqwngoGAvzEAbFE4HL9fSroRrM_ye43rSOaytTdXmI/s1600/IMG_4069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYPtpLl27_l1nCQVwxTGTLGLRRlABDahCMomodstcM0TvRQ29EajuNY-O25UPRv1sSvuIJoSCrLIVnlXhl8IALufSJwhI2bzVpLqwngoGAvzEAbFE4HL9fSroRrM_ye43rSOaytTdXmI/s400/IMG_4069.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A daily occurrence - multiple people slowing as they pass to say hello, welcome us and take photos of us. Usually but not always, the attention is directed to Nick and I can be somewhat ignored</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's hard to know how aligned any people are with
their government, even harder when you are only in the country for a short
while, and harder yet when you can't speak the native tongue. To us, the
regime, in principle at least, seems very conservative but then the people are
just like any others - they aren't the government and don't necessarily agree with what the government do. They want to connect, they are interested in places they
have only read about, they are understanding of differences. The more
modern and middle class the people the less religious they are, much like at
home, or any other country. However, we have met some seemingly strict
Muslims. Two men in particular stand out to me. Both were young
(one 20, the other 26), both refused to shake my hand, because a 'good muslim'
should never shake the hand of an unknown woman incase....incase what exactly,
I'm not so sure. Neither of these men were total strangers to us. They
were a part of two separate families that took us in and put us up
for a night. The welcomed us into their homes, interacted with us,
treated us as both honoured guests and as part of the family. Yet
when it was time to leave the next day and we were saying our goodbyes, Nick
extended his hand which was taken warmly and with real feeling but mine was
refused. They both smiled, a strange glassy-eyed smile and removed their
hands to behind their backs, saying nothing just smiling that smile until
I understood and took my hand back and tried to pretend it hadn't just
happened. In both those families, all the other male members of the family gladly shook my hand and wished me well. Both times it happened I was
left feeling odd. It's their religion, I understand that, but my inner
feminist can't help but be offended by such blatant differences in
treatment between Nick and I.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SUX-8ytsZv-bLOmh8M1Il5xX3G0_0vmvy_W6B-_ROoZEqZGsS8fCCOSwA1a7q-vwohrcZTEIrPKP6KgjRR7QbmPNozcUlJjx5zn3S09lCv_-jT5bDjN9lYn-FNHWGeELlaKWnWpXLlI/s1600/IMG_4627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SUX-8ytsZv-bLOmh8M1Il5xX3G0_0vmvy_W6B-_ROoZEqZGsS8fCCOSwA1a7q-vwohrcZTEIrPKP6KgjRR7QbmPNozcUlJjx5zn3S09lCv_-jT5bDjN9lYn-FNHWGeELlaKWnWpXLlI/s400/IMG_4627.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This family of brothers and their mother put us up for the night. Mostaf, the third person from the left, was one of the hand-shaking offenders.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzGOmFyEe-OBmt2Y5PDzltFeupuf1Y4tML9QRKS2T2vecLe6Ql9yLvM52iHzWwxIRHxKAKD8Xnv9B2pdjAVAzESfyM2CDlSgshwPaeDlQnRjsLYctrcEu1D4XFAJciRYLQW5ywXM6cmk/s1600/IMG_4638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzGOmFyEe-OBmt2Y5PDzltFeupuf1Y4tML9QRKS2T2vecLe6Ql9yLvM52iHzWwxIRHxKAKD8Xnv9B2pdjAVAzESfyM2CDlSgshwPaeDlQnRjsLYctrcEu1D4XFAJciRYLQW5ywXM6cmk/s400/IMG_4638.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying dinner with the lads!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU_lefbRtJH0elZvHxybSxJAD5aNacw4vDe0pQa2KjXcdxRKN7jdCMknv7J2ola-ek5stPSeO3p6Ekp5BPq3eJmGw7UENBEY2V939bfvhnJsirWK_V4Q934jYbIuGbjXRXtZiRLI-QY4/s1600/IMG_4953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU_lefbRtJH0elZvHxybSxJAD5aNacw4vDe0pQa2KjXcdxRKN7jdCMknv7J2ola-ek5stPSeO3p6Ekp5BPq3eJmGw7UENBEY2V939bfvhnJsirWK_V4Q934jYbIuGbjXRXtZiRLI-QY4/s400/IMG_4953.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another day, another family. They convinced us to stay until lunch the next day so that they could show us around the area. We agreed, eagerly. Salar, on the far right, was another of the hand-shake offenders.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsb0m66jJHLZ6c-X8GaUvuyGUH-epjQA6dOAEcWwrbwWuVr_4DWJgJ5xG0LUpo2khTYyQlJimAQY_njotMxxOVq5lBxyO1-0JYYHEVty0p6pvDOAJA_2VWxIfKlzA6AIQWwDbp9sLj6g/s1600/IMG_5139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsb0m66jJHLZ6c-X8GaUvuyGUH-epjQA6dOAEcWwrbwWuVr_4DWJgJ5xG0LUpo2khTYyQlJimAQY_njotMxxOVq5lBxyO1-0JYYHEVty0p6pvDOAJA_2VWxIfKlzA6AIQWwDbp9sLj6g/s400/IMG_5139.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lads - past and present - are everywhere, looking down on everyone and everything. Revered by some, hated by others, but ever present either way.</td></tr>
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We have discovered that Iranian men aren't granted passports until they have completed their compulsory two years of military service. Wages are low, especially in government positions like bank workers and teachers. Despite this, people are often slow to criticise the regime, saying how great the current Ayatollah is, and I suppose in comparison to the last guy he's not too bad! Someone said to us that the government ask the Iranian people to restrict themselves and give up some of their freedoms (like drinking alcohol and socialising with the opposite sex) in return for protection in what is a troubled part of the world. Iran is a very peaceful country. A beautiful country, filled with amazingly warm and friendly people, so something is obviously being done right here but I can't help thinking that restricting people's freedom, in any capacity, isn't the best course of action. </div>
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There are many things in Iran, as seen from our western viewpoints, that baffle us. It is a place of contradictions. Many of the ideas we had of Iran, before we got here, seem to be true but there is so much more that we don't here about, and that is a great shame.</div>
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**As always, for more photos of our Iranian leg of the journey, check out our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bikebackhome/?fref=ts&ref=br_tf">Facebook</a> page.</div>
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<div class="fb-post" data-href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10153685693466232&type=1&l=c50749c804" data-show-text="true" data-width="500">
<blockquote cite="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10153685693466232&type=3" class="fb-xfbml-parse-ignore">
Photos of the Iranian leg of our cycle home
www.bike-back-home-.blogspot.com
https://give.everydayhero.com/ie/bikebackhome<br />
Posted by <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4535444302531972829#" role="button">Nick Doran</a> on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10153685693466232&type=3">Wednesday, August 3, 2016</a></blockquote>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-81450040055073018402016-07-23T09:20:00.000+03:002016-08-28T11:18:18.606+03:00Onwards, with a Unfortunate Change of Route<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I wrote in my previous post...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">We’ve been in Dushanbe for a week now and have successfully got our Uzbeki and Iranian visas.</span><span style="font-size: 15px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">They are relatively straightforward to get.</span><span style="font-size: 15px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">The Turkmen one on the other hand is notoriously time consuming, and even then, not guaranteed.</span><span style="font-size: 15px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">We’ve to go back to the embassy on Thursday (21st July) and it </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">should</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;"> be issued to us then but we aren’t holding our breath…we’ve heard plenty of horror stories and loads of people that have just give up on it and re route instead.</span><span style="font-size: 15px;"> If we don't get it, our only option will be to fly over Turkmenistan, which we are not particularly keen to do! Just thinking about boxing up the bikes for a flight gives me a headache, so fingers crossed we get the visa and we'll be back in the saddle on Friday!</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">....and yet here we are, still in Dushanbe, on Saturday. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">When we went to the embassy on Thursday, the man made a quick call to someone in Ashgabat to enquire about our visa status, hung up the phone and shook his head. So that was that. No Turkmenistan visa. So we did the only thing we could, which was to book a flight from here to Tehran, which leaves tomorrow.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Why from here, I hear you ask? We obviously aren't too chuffed to a) be flying anywhere and b) to be missing out on two countries (Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan) and not just one (Turkmenistan). But when we looked into flying from Uzbekistan to Iran, there weren't really any options, or no good ones at least. Our planned Uzbeki route was pretty short - from here (Dushanbe) cross the border and head to Samarkand, Bukhara and across into Turkmenistan just east of Turkmenabat. There are no international flights from Bukhara and no flights to Iran from Samarkand. That only left Tashkent, the capital, as an option but Tashkent is over 300km out of our way and there were no direct flights from Tashkent to anywhere in Iran. The only flights we were able to find online went from Tashkent via Moscow or Istanbul, with flight times of up to 24hours for what should really only be a three or four hour flight. So, Dushanbe to Tehran it is, tomorrow.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Initially, we both felt pretty deflated, and annoyed at such a small, stubborn little country thwarting our plans to cycle the whole way home without any air travel, but there really was nothing we could do about it, only move on and keep enjoying ourselves. At least we aren't the only ones. When we first started researching this trip, there didn't seem to be any issue with getting a transit visa for Turkmenistan, but since reaching Central Asia, we've met more people who've been rejected than people who have managed to get it. Such is life! </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px;">I got some Iran-friendly clothes made in the market the other day and bought a couple of headscarves so, with the bikes packed now, we're all set for the next leg of the adventure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Having been cycling for the last few months, and used to the slow progress that means, it is very exciting to think that we will be in Iran tomorrow! The question I'm wondering now is: as the plane enters Iranian airspace, will women will be instructed to cover their heads?</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-7892247436171648462016-07-19T18:19:00.000+03:002016-07-19T18:20:21.034+03:00The Spectacular Kyrgyzstan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Kyrgyzstan</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0EMgoQljeHw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0EMgoQljeHw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-24025395636688234682016-07-18T14:13:00.000+03:002016-07-18T15:59:37.071+03:00The Pamir Highway (M41) and the Wakhan Valley<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Where do you even begin to
describe a place like the Pamirs? The
sights and sounds, the people, the experiences and the emotions…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It took us six days to cycle from
Osh to Murgab, a distance of about 430km.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We reckoned it would take us another 8 days to cycle from Murgab to
Khorog via the Wakhan Valley and then 6 more days from Khorog to Dushanbe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s more common (a relative word!) to cycle
in the opposite direction to the one we went in because the wind is more
usually at your back and the gradient is slightly easier that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, we’re travelling westwards, so we cycled
the pamirs backwards!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having done it, I now understand that the wind really is a game changer. We cycled into a very
strong headwind almost immediately after leaving Murgab and we battled it more
or less the whole way to Khorog, which in the end took us 9 long days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The initial climb up to the plateau
begins quite quickly out of Osh, and after about 60km you find yourself at a
pass of 3289m – the highest we’d been to yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The scenery was stunning though, more died-and-gone-to-Kyrgyzstan kind
of scenery, so that made up for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
wasn’t a particularly steep climb anyway and there was a fantastic 18km fast
descent afterwards to a town called Gulcha, where we stayed that night.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The next night we stayed in a
yurt as part of a homestay initiative partly funded by Estonia. The family were
the same amazingly hospitable people we’d grown accustomed to in
Kyrgyzstan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nick saw the daughter
heading outside with a bucket just before dinner and followed her out, hoping
she was going to milk the cow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was,
so we asked could we have a go too! We weren’t very good at it, surprisingly
enough, but the cow was very patient and didn’t seem to mind two giggling
eejits tugging on her udders. Although, she did swipe Nick in the face with her particularly unclean tail!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I started writing this in Murgab,
where we took a day off after 6 of the toughest, most spectacular and most
rewarding days on the bike yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
wasn’t easy. At that point we’d already been up and over a 4655m pass, been caught
in sandstorms, rained on, camped in minus temperatures, survived on food
portions much smaller than we’d like to, dealt with some of the worst roads
imaginable, been sun burnt <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and </i>wind
burnt, been freezing cold and roasting hot, frustrated, out of breath, hungry
and tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we’d also cycled some of
the most spectacular roads imaginable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We’d seen skies so blue that looking back, it’s hard to believe we
haven’t fiddled with the saturation on our photos, and mountains that looked
like drawings or artist’s creations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some that looked like they were just made of sand, the remnants of a fire
maybe, ashen in colour and soft looking in texture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some that were a deep rusty red with streaks
of grey and khaki in them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of them
massive, but with no other people around for so much of the time, the scale was
virtually impossible to compute.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We stayed in people’s homes, and
were fed and watered, waved at and smiled at.
We laughed at the stupidity of it all when faced with a headwind so
strong you can hardly cycle, or a road so bad that you’d be faster if you
crawled. Moments where if you didn’t laugh you would probably cry, and often times I cried anyway! But neither of us would change a second of it
if we could. What we’ve seen has been
utterly breath taking, awe-inducing, humbling. It’s so isolated and remote up
there that at times it seems like a dream.
Were the colours really as vivid as they are in my memory? Were the mountains really as imposing as I remember them to be? Was the sky really that blue? Did people really live in these harsh
conditions and not only survive, but thrive.
Yes, yes to all, and our photos show it.
But they cannot show the experience of pedaling yourself, and your worldly
possessions from 1000m up and over 4600m, for hundreds of kilometers, the pride
and the sense of achievement you feel, the tears of joy you shed, the smiles
shared with passing locals, and the endless cups of sugary tea needed to do it
all!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For more of an accurate idea of what it was like on a day by day basis I've included my dairy entries below --></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 1</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Osh to Gulcha (at 1540m). 87km, 6 hours
cycling/ 7½ hours on the road. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Climbed up to 3289m (Osh is at
2000m) and then flew down the far side to 1540m in 18km.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tough day, made tougher by all the days off
in Osh I think but stunning scenery, more died-and-gone-to-Kyrgyzstan type
stuff. Passed a big nomad settlement near the top of the pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both of us shattered by the end of the day, I
think we didn’t refuel very well in Osh!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Also, had a late start (after lunch) which meant the day was all go go
go and we didn’t take many breaks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus
it was hot! Still though, very exciting to be on the road again at the start of
this section. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenJ31yEqrj_-olpxOO5Yg_MTPPh3MiR2Xr3JgeiklH5cQdEUhFMzK_-ThPnSsiHnqaGcEqWdfFdhIlDBoOUKRF9Z3QScK90yTAwLUmHN03AANBA_xb1cMrS1PCtwyCynOIYHtr-39kzw/s1600/IMG_3241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenJ31yEqrj_-olpxOO5Yg_MTPPh3MiR2Xr3JgeiklH5cQdEUhFMzK_-ThPnSsiHnqaGcEqWdfFdhIlDBoOUKRF9Z3QScK90yTAwLUmHN03AANBA_xb1cMrS1PCtwyCynOIYHtr-39kzw/s400/IMG_3241.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at the top of the pass. Daylight disappearing. Good thing it was a fast downhill to Gulcha!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 2:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> Gulcha to
Aktala.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>66km, 4½ hrs/ 7hrs. Homestay at
2470m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I could’ve slept all day today!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hit snooze quite a few times but we were on
the road by half nine. Stopped at 2pm for lunch just as the skies opened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t look like it was going to end so we
put on our wet gear and got back out into it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It didn’t last too long though which was great, and the skies brightened
again. A kid stole a reflector off the back of Nick’s bike while we were having
lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids, and people in general, seem
less friendly in this valley, hostile even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are noticeably less well off and we can’t help but wonder if
they’ve been completely overlooked by the recent influx of tourism to the area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Osh has lots of tourism, as do the Pamirs,
but this stretch in between is just a place people go through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no homestays, official or
unofficial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had stones/rocks thrown
at us three times today, by both adults and kids, and each time they shouted
‘tourist, tourist’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not pleasant at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Makes me nervous approaching towns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such a huge change from the hospitality and
friendliness we’ve been experiencing up to now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Stayed in an official homestay run by a mum and her two kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were looking for a camp spot and saw the
sigh so went in, and I’m really glad we did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were lovely, really welcoming, it was a great end to the day, and
meant we wouldn’t leave Kyrgyzstan with a bad taste in our mouths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We milked the family cow, then turned the
milk into cheese for dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did some
weaving on a traditional loom and we slept in a yurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The daughter took a bit of a shine to me and
gave me a hug that threatened never to end when we were leaving the next morning! A
lovely goodbye to a place that has been an unexpected highlight of the trip so far.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHn28YEuo1skmfX43jkmT1ARu8oLMiD-8-bnRYONAe6K5XeAQgyhg_Q6fsBysUpkL4o_B3OUnX9arKJ89DvFlaaqqzwhbla-mLHw-el5F4R5F8SejFdjNLnf8wFimpYl_valc5pAk9RU/s1600/IMG_3297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHn28YEuo1skmfX43jkmT1ARu8oLMiD-8-bnRYONAe6K5XeAQgyhg_Q6fsBysUpkL4o_B3OUnX9arKJ89DvFlaaqqzwhbla-mLHw-el5F4R5F8SejFdjNLnf8wFimpYl_valc5pAk9RU/s400/IMG_3297.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having a weaving lesson at our homestay.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 3:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 63km, 5¾
hrs/ 9hrs. Camped at 3400m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Started climbing immediately from
the homestay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Up to 3615m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tough climb with a lot of cut backs, and
incredibly strong winds at the top of the pass. So windy we didn’t even have
time to get a photo, just threw our jackets on and legged it! Met two couples
cycling the other direction today – John and Bee from Bristol and two Dutch
retirees. There was a second pass (3541m) immediately after the first and then
it was a fast steep downhill to Sary-Tash, the last town before the Tajik
border. We stopped for food and the mum of the family from last nights homestay
was in there too! Almost didn’t recognize her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After Sary Tash we got hit with a <u>strong</u> headwind that made it slow
going and tough, although flat. Camped. Put the tent up and was asleep about
ten minutes later!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tpm62Dj1BrEOQsdjAJ4n023LA8ZdGKGF9gbt9JFmTU6DMZ5QfC5Uw2xSv5rIYrDLtJqMWJ4nej4bLHi-oJ0n2fjhhRxwk7pW91io2xDzRQ63s5vgWRGZppieeD-nmHYIPAk2oToSfTY/s1600/IMG_3328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tpm62Dj1BrEOQsdjAJ4n023LA8ZdGKGF9gbt9JFmTU6DMZ5QfC5Uw2xSv5rIYrDLtJqMWJ4nej4bLHi-oJ0n2fjhhRxwk7pW91io2xDzRQ63s5vgWRGZppieeD-nmHYIPAk2oToSfTY/s400/IMG_3328.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start of the climb to the pass</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at the top...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ng4j1-EIcSZPcqegVsMBAFK0WF8AEcR5pcptBc754lS7R1eB-yZyADgg6custjXSCJ2LJEPjvZOrYuUwE2epziSa7ohrrYs4Tm_mEIOOMyB5MAnFa7tTgUsNUpGUrP0EzHIfrqyK7PU/s1600/IMG_3334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ng4j1-EIcSZPcqegVsMBAFK0WF8AEcR5pcptBc754lS7R1eB-yZyADgg6custjXSCJ2LJEPjvZOrYuUwE2epziSa7ohrrYs4Tm_mEIOOMyB5MAnFa7tTgUsNUpGUrP0EzHIfrqyK7PU/s400/IMG_3334.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The top of the pass - a quick snap before getting out of the wind as soon as possible. The girl in the photo, and two of her friends, were up there with their cows and gave us flowers they'd picked.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6F2LaflGWX62CEH6wa4tqZTKx_jmvvsMarP_T0MX9FqJwVYAoayj9XesZ6dgkkCeqUQR62igfQjltIIZGge_8K91gXq79GZPh4odgf5vM92au1RtN653fe-TVWj04ImBdw-6hIvzhLI/s1600/IMG_3335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6F2LaflGWX62CEH6wa4tqZTKx_jmvvsMarP_T0MX9FqJwVYAoayj9XesZ6dgkkCeqUQR62igfQjltIIZGge_8K91gXq79GZPh4odgf5vM92au1RtN653fe-TVWj04ImBdw-6hIvzhLI/s400/IMG_3335.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second pass of the day</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23LW5XhxGtuq2uusmogII0QKWDhg5y_hruSZM_fPfVBzEUot_vX2dFonA57dpKkjMEF3rD6oBt8riU0Cc0CsIQcqua3l1uvxufNArI_8LhnGt9HxWaeAL9y3vmtJVqXaWQWu0NOgoseU/s1600/IMG_3341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23LW5XhxGtuq2uusmogII0QKWDhg5y_hruSZM_fPfVBzEUot_vX2dFonA57dpKkjMEF3rD6oBt8riU0Cc0CsIQcqua3l1uvxufNArI_8LhnGt9HxWaeAL9y3vmtJVqXaWQWu0NOgoseU/s400/IMG_3341.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downhill to Sary-Tash</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPr7FJ8k9E-RXvhfJ330TOQAZMobF_xXyb08ycTMpHOdJMhOZFzs1jvu89GWyFiJhTg8H_1L_hsbFJROpa3A9JqrO-1PFxFilTOEAHKkH0X6vHBAEnEaxQYXZLewmIGtCOonDVV1OKrbw/s1600/IMG_3350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPr7FJ8k9E-RXvhfJ330TOQAZMobF_xXyb08ycTMpHOdJMhOZFzs1jvu89GWyFiJhTg8H_1L_hsbFJROpa3A9JqrO-1PFxFilTOEAHKkH0X6vHBAEnEaxQYXZLewmIGtCOonDVV1OKrbw/s400/IMG_3350.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Say-Tash and our first real glimpse of the Pamirs ahead of us</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoE3HtHn9OYDSzKlgR7mdRwTw6I06hNDA2pqpYaJfeHDLxXcTIo3XR2Js4O9v0VbmE6cRB14yYgrfiI1lSogOy81zw1A8dLwGk4WfcQrq-7t7UAUoSznTn2fyDGTymh6BB47CdkkMTiGQ/s1600/IMG_3365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoE3HtHn9OYDSzKlgR7mdRwTw6I06hNDA2pqpYaJfeHDLxXcTIo3XR2Js4O9v0VbmE6cRB14yYgrfiI1lSogOy81zw1A8dLwGk4WfcQrq-7t7UAUoSznTn2fyDGTymh6BB47CdkkMTiGQ/s400/IMG_3365.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pamirs, here we come!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 4:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 77km, 7½
/12hrs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homestay at Karakol (3950m)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Left Kyrgyzstan about 5km from
where we camped and entered into 20km of no man’s land before Tajikistan.
Stunningly beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crossed a 4282m
pass before Tajikistan. A relatively easy climb except for the last two
kilometers, which were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">brutally</i>
steep. On a recommendation from other cyclists, we wanted to make it to Karakol
to sleep, and did, just about. A really long, tough day. Arrived shattered.
Caught up with Tom, the German we’d cycled with before who left Osh a day ahead
of us. We’d thought it was going to be all down hill from the pass…how wrong we
were. Lots of up and down, strong winds, sand storms and awful road (12km of
washboard after the border entry post) The last 20km to Karakol was downhill
but into a strong, cold wind. Homestay was lovely. Good food, big portions and
a lovely stove in the room. Fell into a coma-like sleep immediately after
eating. Incredible scenery all day today that changed around every corner. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">The scenery so far has been out of this world. The scale is very
hard to comprehend because the mountains are so big, the plains endless but no
houses or anything to compare them to. Everything is massive and the colours
are so bright and strongly contrasting. Blue skies like you’ve only seen in
kids cartoons, mountains with reds, greens, greys, blues in them. Brilliant
white clouds and snow topped mountains and virtually no signs of life. No animals,
no buildings, no cars (one or two cars pass us a day). Despite the immense
beauty it’s a very bleak, harsh environment. I can’t understand how people ever
came to live in these areas. Sometimes there is one house/one family and that’s
it for 50 or more kilometers, no community, just them and the animals they
keep.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The sun is so strong up this
high. My face and lips are so dry and cracked. The leathery faces on some of
the locals is pretty scary. We’re lashing on the factor 50 in a bid to do as
little damage as possible. The tarmac is melted in lots of places, it feels
like cycling through toffee, but the wind would cut you in half it’s so cold,
and once the sun sets the temperature drops immediately. There is often ice on
the tent in the mornings but we’ve always been toasty inside. Very glad we
bought such good sleeping bags, they were expensive at the time but worth every
penny, them and our puffa jackets – absolutely invaluable, money well spent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfssG1DH4MjWmGgLfzXssP3mDCcXS1mJzbzhP6UEN4LPXEhFCGOWsvbAoPMNDcrH0NEuOiiOxrlx37btRXpJi2kPA4gygsDDpIBjAr8o2mD8QsNdzQKAbdueKPtFZ3Eb5PLAzpdhshKkI/s1600/IMG_3372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfssG1DH4MjWmGgLfzXssP3mDCcXS1mJzbzhP6UEN4LPXEhFCGOWsvbAoPMNDcrH0NEuOiiOxrlx37btRXpJi2kPA4gygsDDpIBjAr8o2mD8QsNdzQKAbdueKPtFZ3Eb5PLAzpdhshKkI/s400/IMG_3372.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at the Kyrgyz border and the road started to deteriorate - a sigh of things to come!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qzYqYtguSaFxOSZxxDPPizcTmTL0uzEiPyItSr8CiOCYAIJM_I99Lgx3HBUHvHiP35qz_H17mXcM3j2hQEfApGf8-WOnBPtfChCRXr_A_eJT_dPtHrD3GtgVGeGTUqVJsY5DeAOvjOE/s1600/IMG_3382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qzYqYtguSaFxOSZxxDPPizcTmTL0uzEiPyItSr8CiOCYAIJM_I99Lgx3HBUHvHiP35qz_H17mXcM3j2hQEfApGf8-WOnBPtfChCRXr_A_eJT_dPtHrD3GtgVGeGTUqVJsY5DeAOvjOE/s400/IMG_3382.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No man's land - 20km of it between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6Pku-95Fau3Y82htOrXdw5yo-2ALvzzgE5x5NhEVTArJt1DNvgvaGV34yxNAXzVfWVi85TE6tjzS2lSSASRGMYgykBMAr1RygWscCOQ7SQ3fPjacZlyRA6KUUFDwdepbdnwwQKUlSls/s1600/IMG_3385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6Pku-95Fau3Y82htOrXdw5yo-2ALvzzgE5x5NhEVTArJt1DNvgvaGV34yxNAXzVfWVi85TE6tjzS2lSSASRGMYgykBMAr1RygWscCOQ7SQ3fPjacZlyRA6KUUFDwdepbdnwwQKUlSls/s400/IMG_3385.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first of many river crossings on the trip</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4F4rjg-5LOuX_3yLOdK3OPXg_zf5DheOhEiBvkV4RuvLumwhZhxL3TxMUM4A4wSG9kp1Hj7m20vRlyUyBGFxi_hgZHrIj_wD4INkyzAfpWc7sj9my8qeRVVPdGaWYxEOV3drVZPksZw/s1600/IMG_3393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4F4rjg-5LOuX_3yLOdK3OPXg_zf5DheOhEiBvkV4RuvLumwhZhxL3TxMUM4A4wSG9kp1Hj7m20vRlyUyBGFxi_hgZHrIj_wD4INkyzAfpWc7sj9my8qeRVVPdGaWYxEOV3drVZPksZw/s400/IMG_3393.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymyiHQxUOY4FCL8ADaIIXGdDpEyITGg5BQ-D3K8YSNnz-skyw0_qXFVnaPi1Hhe3VYYG5uVSk6ApdzZHdggFnv-Z6NpXNJIJwXVFNJteKdvxKJTMzF27q6_42Oqkr79u0Ecq5jgeHDuU/s1600/IMG_3401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymyiHQxUOY4FCL8ADaIIXGdDpEyITGg5BQ-D3K8YSNnz-skyw0_qXFVnaPi1Hhe3VYYG5uVSk6ApdzZHdggFnv-Z6NpXNJIJwXVFNJteKdvxKJTMzF27q6_42Oqkr79u0Ecq5jgeHDuU/s400/IMG_3401.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at the pass...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyNKTM_G5ANiqqKewZ0ToN-6KzLh-1n4337bZSxNZTMILaRVmygH8eMqBtLNZ4bNVN-kvpoTUyr9ucUG55tWm2i9DF8hOgQ9NxdpCOqgmuDn5hpVDcdG5UZ-HL6RAjpm055FEe92Al5I/s1600/IMG_3403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyNKTM_G5ANiqqKewZ0ToN-6KzLh-1n4337bZSxNZTMILaRVmygH8eMqBtLNZ4bNVN-kvpoTUyr9ucUG55tWm2i9DF8hOgQ9NxdpCOqgmuDn5hpVDcdG5UZ-HL6RAjpm055FEe92Al5I/s400/IMG_3403.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghubbM4oxMUrh1opcXM2lx6pBgcm_DgvjVdUMCioKj_yF8QPutDYt0QX_TA2oOnSihrqBomAqwynDvF2vUffXC56n661yxhHn8gORqlJu6OdUna7RU4XcrO4foaVI7MowEq7TyqGo2fto/s1600/IMG_3406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghubbM4oxMUrh1opcXM2lx6pBgcm_DgvjVdUMCioKj_yF8QPutDYt0QX_TA2oOnSihrqBomAqwynDvF2vUffXC56n661yxhHn8gORqlJu6OdUna7RU4XcrO4foaVI7MowEq7TyqGo2fto/s400/IMG_3406.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it! 4282m!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkUmEN9VG9oV5eyF_KRwUgfUyxUNsKOxoC42LehSezl_l815m8CYyZp4pnEceBE3kUXBklcZXOT5l7O3Gn4zG4FULyBcKp2VB8z9wF_KmpYrTeGGHkWyqIyxLH8Wim7ahuUkYcQQUkss/s1600/IMG_3412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkUmEN9VG9oV5eyF_KRwUgfUyxUNsKOxoC42LehSezl_l815m8CYyZp4pnEceBE3kUXBklcZXOT5l7O3Gn4zG4FULyBcKp2VB8z9wF_KmpYrTeGGHkWyqIyxLH8Wim7ahuUkYcQQUkss/s400/IMG_3412.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back to where we'd come from. A very satisfying view!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hOMXRp2PnE_xJO0azyTDkARRNTs1nYOPG228uMd0eQRBBHZTu5Xg-wptlQ5fZTn-8dl18HbPYuOtICnn-ZECeNkrO581L0QeabPDryan_RTSYjSiRgmgsFvzVkCXwXFMNXkVMBoxPig/s1600/IMG_3420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hOMXRp2PnE_xJO0azyTDkARRNTs1nYOPG228uMd0eQRBBHZTu5Xg-wptlQ5fZTn-8dl18HbPYuOtICnn-ZECeNkrO581L0QeabPDryan_RTSYjSiRgmgsFvzVkCXwXFMNXkVMBoxPig/s400/IMG_3420.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving the Tajik border entry post behind, this was the scenery waiting for us...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNBpWRnxE5HgpP52ZHJIxpgYmpsYTq6jKBMp_j_EO5QusWXnmPscxG60dlPBJOc54fLpC3FMmP-KOMxGJTn-eysop-1DaNGLFY6fGgityGn8ocVfr10UkKG4xPcl1EUo2VqE59hfUWu0/s1600/IMG_3424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNBpWRnxE5HgpP52ZHJIxpgYmpsYTq6jKBMp_j_EO5QusWXnmPscxG60dlPBJOc54fLpC3FMmP-KOMxGJTn-eysop-1DaNGLFY6fGgityGn8ocVfr10UkKG4xPcl1EUo2VqE59hfUWu0/s400/IMG_3424.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and this salty madness!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhvmvYFiDyd8l7nD1xguSZLVLZmVpgkUongBLJWaZI9LUVgna2PgVxrkFA_vUPcEdCKheGF2AHMOujNYCJkc-TWP4HX6Sv-pnAFeojIjTTY-Bjvl2prTh4Aa_Zp_f0dBjdsFy8njBHrg/s1600/IMG_3427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhvmvYFiDyd8l7nD1xguSZLVLZmVpgkUongBLJWaZI9LUVgna2PgVxrkFA_vUPcEdCKheGF2AHMOujNYCJkc-TWP4HX6Sv-pnAFeojIjTTY-Bjvl2prTh4Aa_Zp_f0dBjdsFy8njBHrg/s400/IMG_3427.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Karakol in the distance, and our destination that day.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMoOsjSMGqFi1-nVTfXupHjuf59bolUspV51xlqf0yQyX1c-9zqwJvxPzKIfN26vKJeg4DWGuVooPdvPTtAosQGd_bdq4l9VKuYWGfZm9ZVItuYQYFo6Kkp3NlNXZKVcxrt9_qHQajsTs/s1600/IMG_3492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMoOsjSMGqFi1-nVTfXupHjuf59bolUspV51xlqf0yQyX1c-9zqwJvxPzKIfN26vKJeg4DWGuVooPdvPTtAosQGd_bdq4l9VKuYWGfZm9ZVItuYQYFo6Kkp3NlNXZKVcxrt9_qHQajsTs/s400/IMG_3492.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 5:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 51km, 5hrs/
6½ hrs. Camped at 4240m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Camped just before Ak-Baikal Pass
(the highest point on the Pamir Highway). We left Karakol in a very cold
headwind. Strong sun (melting tarmac) again but with a bitter wind. Lips
cracked and bleeding. The altitude is making everything difficult (just
swinging a leg over the bike makes me pant, never mind pedaling). Wind died
down after two hours but after lunch we had about 35km of washboard. Incredibly
frustrating surface. I thought I hated wind the most on the bike but pretty
sure a bad road surface is worse. Constant rattling, banging, bumping and
painfully slow progress. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmSNHj-BzWXyXbBOdU4mCc4VVA-qBmYGkYfwxR5jCcjJiSDrjeGeU9smvq5M7lNzbTtRI99kqwcqfZtb_niBgQX1TAkfZ6VRceEGmR_Ra3WohzB1UZDym01r_m2dGCp7peCzStjJQ6KA/s1600/IMG_3521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmSNHj-BzWXyXbBOdU4mCc4VVA-qBmYGkYfwxR5jCcjJiSDrjeGeU9smvq5M7lNzbTtRI99kqwcqfZtb_niBgQX1TAkfZ6VRceEGmR_Ra3WohzB1UZDym01r_m2dGCp7peCzStjJQ6KA/s400/IMG_3521.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ak-Baikal Pass - 4655m - highest point on the Pamirs and no sign post to mark it. Surprisingly anti-climactic getting there to realise there's nothing to mark the point!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCM3KOvrmXsh-YkPtDviW3YdaM0aHbD0ig6VyLUP-zbFl-psw88GEW7r7joYcR_9iNV47tU4xVYKx4-Bs_i0hTx4xsAoTR_Rn0gn8H9c_GrW4gEBpwRC250LLhApZtyJMUjVhg3ZEvo9g/s1600/IMG_3523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCM3KOvrmXsh-YkPtDviW3YdaM0aHbD0ig6VyLUP-zbFl-psw88GEW7r7joYcR_9iNV47tU4xVYKx4-Bs_i0hTx4xsAoTR_Rn0gn8H9c_GrW4gEBpwRC250LLhApZtyJMUjVhg3ZEvo9g/s400/IMG_3523.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the pass...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7br3Nu8U0GAY1ITFEK2L8yh7DYdgmsQziw5d1QTRoLE4uTDlXWUg7Ye2sw7R_umnqMGf7iYYODGkBEPfhJwHyRfn3fiugGzN2d8nIQj2aqQBz_IeSdfklfEW5km6Rwam3pmt4XypaanU/s1600/IMG_3530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7br3Nu8U0GAY1ITFEK2L8yh7DYdgmsQziw5d1QTRoLE4uTDlXWUg7Ye2sw7R_umnqMGf7iYYODGkBEPfhJwHyRfn3fiugGzN2d8nIQj2aqQBz_IeSdfklfEW5km6Rwam3pmt4XypaanU/s400/IMG_3530.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here was the sign, 15km down from the pass...but still!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 6:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 83km,
5hrs/8hrs. Murgab (Pamir Hotel) 3620m <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Started early to get up the pass
and to make it to Murgab by the end of the day. Washboard road again until
after the pass. The climb itself wasn’t too hard until the last kilometer or
so, and even then still not as hard as the one before Sary Tash or the one
before the Tajik border. Amazing scenery again all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the pass it was 50km of downhill to Murgab
through spectacular scenery. There was no real wind (thank god!) and it was
lovely and warm with a decent road surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A good day!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Arrived to Murgab and
had a shower and two dinners! Delighted!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWhz4F_qgmpM71gKZZk3K4GaXmGLM-eIbFFd7QCA0jq_UhPkPXNhWzZ-XffO8SXwLUI2Qtgus-4znSRo-5TbR2JwLXtpjVQrANXRhMr4QFznO8H2j5KgR7Xrbheu_T8CxfDtQZN2hnv4/s1600/IMG_3567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWhz4F_qgmpM71gKZZk3K4GaXmGLM-eIbFFd7QCA0jq_UhPkPXNhWzZ-XffO8SXwLUI2Qtgus-4znSRo-5TbR2JwLXtpjVQrANXRhMr4QFznO8H2j5KgR7Xrbheu_T8CxfDtQZN2hnv4/s400/IMG_3567.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murgab! And the promise of a hot shower and chocolate!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNq41G0TickLCqzx4C7RFycoPGQtwpXzzDVwPLOZTrg2HvMznzHM9kVOXrHUXGE9wODdWEPtcStvruS4qd6EwWTK0_aGXKiorrbEFPmglOts95ul48XJzoj1LtOX7HfdHhCYV0SQ2Al4o/s1600/IMG_3550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNq41G0TickLCqzx4C7RFycoPGQtwpXzzDVwPLOZTrg2HvMznzHM9kVOXrHUXGE9wODdWEPtcStvruS4qd6EwWTK0_aGXKiorrbEFPmglOts95ul48XJzoj1LtOX7HfdHhCYV0SQ2Al4o/s400/IMG_3550.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 7:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> Day off,
Murgab (Pamir Hotel). Lots of chocolate! Also, we’ve decided to take the Wakhan
Valley route instead of sticking to the M41.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 8:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 62km, 5hrs/
8½ hours. Camped at 4020m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Left Murgab late-ish and had a
head wind all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn’t make it as far
as we’d have liked. Camped just after the 4137m pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Met two Swiss girls going in opposite
direction. They came via the M41. Conflicted, again, as to whether to take the
Wakhan Valley detour or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A local
tour guide told us to come to the Pamirs and not go to the Wakhan is a
shame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also said the road isn’t
corrugated/washboard there, but that it’s not sealed either for the entire
300km of it. Decisions, decisions. Just wait ‘til we get to the turn off and
see how we feel?<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 9:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 44km, 3½
hrs/ 6 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alichur (3880m). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homestay (Shackruna) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Woke up to a gorgeous morning.
Just as we were getting packed up,, a massive thunder and lightening storm
rolled in and brought with it the biggest hail stones you’ve ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had to crouch down behind the bikes for
protection. They we really sore where they hit you! The hail finished but the skies
were still dark but we set off anyway, cycling into the rain and with a strong
headwind (surprise, surprise!). Most mental weather we’ve cycled in yet. Road
was mostly flat bit we were only averaging 10km/hr for most of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Swiss girls yesterday day had recommended
a homestay in Alichur so we headed for that and have decided, finally, to go to
the Wakhan Valley. Maybe it’ll mean getting away from this headwind! It’s worth
the risk anyway we figure!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjj7xBEATks-SwCtr6R-r7R0I7dcAwGejtkGP69oiLdZblwn3R6Xpe-dGlcDA073MYjNCDj8etJE0juXYwUtepAN_fnfSIXJxyWYX9qppKRTEENgXZ9EDCCAcckEShy_SATkSiL3bfAXs/s1600/IMG_3648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjj7xBEATks-SwCtr6R-r7R0I7dcAwGejtkGP69oiLdZblwn3R6Xpe-dGlcDA073MYjNCDj8etJE0juXYwUtepAN_fnfSIXJxyWYX9qppKRTEENgXZ9EDCCAcckEShy_SATkSiL3bfAXs/s400/IMG_3648.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shakruna, the daughter of the family we stayed with, performing a traditional Kygryz dance for us</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 10:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> Day off - Alichur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The homestay is so nice we decided to take a
day off here and recover from the horrible winds and hail stones of yesterday!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 11:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 64km,
6¾hours/ 11¾ hours. Camped at 3820m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">25km after Alichur we turned off
the M41 and said goodbye to tarmac until we reach Khorog in about 300km’s time.
There was an immediate change of scenery, much more lush with wild flowers
growing everywhere. Both of us were delighted with the decision even though the
road is pretty bad – stoney and sandy but not washboard so it’s ok! The pass at
4344m (Khargush Pass) was hands down the toughest climb yet. The last 7km to
the top took nearly 3 hours. The road deteriorated rapidly and it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> steep. We had to do some of it in
50m bursts. I thought my lungs were going to explode! After the pass it was
downhill to the river, The Panj, which is the border between Tajikistan and
Afganistan, where we passed a passport check. Cycled until we were out of sight
of the check-point and pitched the tent, almost totally dark at this stage.
Shattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saw an Afghan Donkey Caravan on
the far side of the river!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last few kilometres on the M41 before turning off into the Wakhan Valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig92GvaSFBZ3UugZhZ_Amxhx5cL3xtm3Hg7rkj_cTGQC9l0wzIpy_zD_0GSbFvn_xqSCRinT7G9zBHXwyrn_Id-yVtpu2zayQL4Xruvl4g_jFQ8vk1_eMeU1HW5EMZkQc38unIV3TzUCg/s1600/IMG_3681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig92GvaSFBZ3UugZhZ_Amxhx5cL3xtm3Hg7rkj_cTGQC9l0wzIpy_zD_0GSbFvn_xqSCRinT7G9zBHXwyrn_Id-yVtpu2zayQL4Xruvl4g_jFQ8vk1_eMeU1HW5EMZkQc38unIV3TzUCg/s400/IMG_3681.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese Trucks and Nick!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSH6XGwZDPdq3yAzpGEMnYyzE0_Q8mWQVDLp3F9A81zw1qZ4Q8txzcbpwXnZj8sdxkwSlm59V5UnzU46eF422QAnDP3HCvpZE5NljeBQmloAtfQqnH5CLg1KcSuRm8Vzrzf2MSOLT-aY/s1600/IMG_3688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSH6XGwZDPdq3yAzpGEMnYyzE0_Q8mWQVDLp3F9A81zw1qZ4Q8txzcbpwXnZj8sdxkwSlm59V5UnzU46eF422QAnDP3HCvpZE5NljeBQmloAtfQqnH5CLg1KcSuRm8Vzrzf2MSOLT-aY/s400/IMG_3688.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sand we'd been hearing so much about....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RMshPxsmf-7a8upt0czunWN6yw8jqkJfy45VQ9hP2ut3_sDztXDjIDtzfWzT08EQkdbirABxY_A4ocJuzZ3nwQtUyLVGG0xPnl_C4xX4V0t2TYYpQ2UOTElCFMiXbEydTuD-URzGoP8/s1600/IMG_3695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RMshPxsmf-7a8upt0czunWN6yw8jqkJfy45VQ9hP2ut3_sDztXDjIDtzfWzT08EQkdbirABxY_A4ocJuzZ3nwQtUyLVGG0xPnl_C4xX4V0t2TYYpQ2UOTElCFMiXbEydTuD-URzGoP8/s400/IMG_3695.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just after Khargush Pass and a view to the Hindu Kush. The scenery just kept wowing us</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Pte08nMGy0mwvIu2tpqbBnkCrkPeK_68NppwYJiiPkOcK-X49XS8A3ssrQAaRIpvmjw6PUp7hJDOAukGzT1IUJQ-RgFHA6vmF_mRNPCxl45Ysr8yDIz47a9gnrMz45258mnlSv4aRKM/s1600/IMG_3705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Pte08nMGy0mwvIu2tpqbBnkCrkPeK_68NppwYJiiPkOcK-X49XS8A3ssrQAaRIpvmjw6PUp7hJDOAukGzT1IUJQ-RgFHA6vmF_mRNPCxl45Ysr8yDIz47a9gnrMz45258mnlSv4aRKM/s400/IMG_3705.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road did too...!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 12:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 28km,
4hrs/8hrs. Camped at 3540m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Camped by a river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a small house that looked derelict
just beside a big grassy patch by the water and as we were pitching the tent a
man came out with a big bowl of pasta and a loaf of bread for us. Amazing!
After such a tough, slow day neither of us felt like cooking so these guys made
our day!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sand, gravel, rocks that
make up the road got to me today in a big day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had a bit of a road-side meltdown at one stage, with a few tears of
frustration/exhaustion. Already looking forward to getting to Khorog!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGrf5zxm5760acODT5upts4Wt0cGyPFOhXRHNkbuKrHBjAYz2MXasIuneRWJHTAJMRtvDPF-WfOB13XdWxdJTEfkWTrK27WVeMIksfA_MwHr9gC56Y1oF1j3WpneqbhwePRu-N9btwxs/s1600/IMG_3716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGrf5zxm5760acODT5upts4Wt0cGyPFOhXRHNkbuKrHBjAYz2MXasIuneRWJHTAJMRtvDPF-WfOB13XdWxdJTEfkWTrK27WVeMIksfA_MwHr9gC56Y1oF1j3WpneqbhwePRu-N9btwxs/s400/IMG_3716.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Panj River - the natural border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKWAE4nBKl-gIrCv9MNQVDdE93VJgi8OmQYshWOHXZnP4T-xTOJsbcKEbG_Ldsbx7ALW52az0WNZ_mLVOgeZGIpQxKGhrIQctC4mYEE1qq4KjC9e82WTAeTV5XXwgj2aHFzBLS9CsxHM/s1600/IMG_3721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKWAE4nBKl-gIrCv9MNQVDdE93VJgi8OmQYshWOHXZnP4T-xTOJsbcKEbG_Ldsbx7ALW52az0WNZ_mLVOgeZGIpQxKGhrIQctC4mYEE1qq4KjC9e82WTAeTV5XXwgj2aHFzBLS9CsxHM/s400/IMG_3721.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our camp spot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 13:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 34km, 4hrs/
8hrs. Langar (2820m). Homestay (with hot water and a sit down toilet)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Had a slow morning this morning.
Took hours over brekkie at the river and then made two pots of coffee. Such a
gorgeous place to wake up. Arrived down to the valley proper today. Amazing
scenery dropping down into the valley. So green and lush. Insanely bad road,
not sure it would be cycleable in reverse, so steep and rocky that the wheels
jump all over the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much mental
concentration needed. Stayed in a lovely (but expensive) homestay with a hot shower!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ_qftTx-IiSRLm74pjLInLWgDlThGT770hCGRSJbU3AowvHtBoESJdEP0hc5-YSMQESEI8Auq3U1hsZg3DO3k5mvvQkRzmrpr2h00S_J7T5c25e2ss-n1ZkL3VlhOrCMUH3FO-whqCM/s1600/IMG_3801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ_qftTx-IiSRLm74pjLInLWgDlThGT770hCGRSJbU3AowvHtBoESJdEP0hc5-YSMQESEI8Auq3U1hsZg3DO3k5mvvQkRzmrpr2h00S_J7T5c25e2ss-n1ZkL3VlhOrCMUH3FO-whqCM/s400/IMG_3801.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downhill to the valley floor at Langar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 14:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 30km, 4hrs/
6½ hours. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homestay at 2790m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Awful road still. Words fail me
totally trying to describe it. Incredibly frustrating and tiring. Strong
headwinds in the afternoon so going to try to be on the road before 6am from
now on. Still not covering much ground. Starting to get pretty fed up with the
road, not sure that the beauty of the valley makes up for the effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you’re cycling you can’t look around at
the beauty of the place anyway, you have to be totally focused on the road.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 15:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 43km, 5½/
10 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homestay at 2720m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On the road at 6:30am in an
attempt to beat the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stopped at
10:30 for roadside eggs, bread and coffee at a tiny little shop/café. Much
needed fuel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Met an American biker, Tim,
who stopped too, going the opposite direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Later, met a Swiss-Italian cyclist, looking for a garmen cable, then two
German cyclists closely followed by two Dutch, all going the opposite way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d already covered 62km from Ishkashim when
we met them because of their lovely tail wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The frustration at our slow progress really set in. So hard to stay
focused on the positives (the scenery, the experience, the trip of a lifetime
type vibes etc) and to not let others’ speed and progress get to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A road side cafe, what a treat!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 16:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 69km, 6hrs/
11hrs. Camped at 2430m<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Met a Northern Irish / British duo
today– Mudd Life Crisis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really nice
guys. Had packed in 20+ year long careers at the RAF to motorbike around the
world for 2 years and were visibly high on life and their new found
perspectives on everything. Great to meet people from ‘home’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d been having a tough morning – road-side
tears, again – and they brightened me up no end. Such a shame we hadn’t met at
a town where we could’ve all stayed the night and chin wagged the night
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it was we were probably stopped
road side for about 2 hours! Cycling away from Steve and Piers I realised I was
enjoying myself and that I really hadn’t been for the past few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amazing the difference great people can make
to your mood and attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While talking
to them, Dan from North Dakota, who we’d met briefly in Murgab, caught up with
us and we cycled with him to Khorog. A really nice guy, and good easy
company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It being the 4<sup>th</sup> of
July today, he cooked us up chips when we set up camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A windy afternoon again today but I enjoyed
the day for the first time in a few days, instead of just wishing it done.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbu7EltqR_rGBb4LheuGNKz6Bn_-4THewYjrAJsvpJI3ylqrcAhM3eTpNjBcUQEoQLX9JIr9wpZVWhB5pBPdFnVyk4ni6U5jtBUo7QADo5gKWRLImOiLJkOJo9oS-0TXoucrbqUdeRTuM/s1600/IMG_3849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbu7EltqR_rGBb4LheuGNKz6Bn_-4THewYjrAJsvpJI3ylqrcAhM3eTpNjBcUQEoQLX9JIr9wpZVWhB5pBPdFnVyk4ni6U5jtBUo7QADo5gKWRLImOiLJkOJo9oS-0TXoucrbqUdeRTuM/s400/IMG_3849.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick with Dan, from North Dakota, and Tim from New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrvJ4Q7BKpztrDCZNK-Xe0mQtt-0eg-zuwqtJXRltsWdgf5twOfzvR83a6Zob5vQIMyZUCEvEjtpsv7atSmtfMrfroRuV3YU127ZBXxtlu-iHNXqFuo-tjQN65BtmAOp4nipHHZMcUow/s1600/IMG_3852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrvJ4Q7BKpztrDCZNK-Xe0mQtt-0eg-zuwqtJXRltsWdgf5twOfzvR83a6Zob5vQIMyZUCEvEjtpsv7atSmtfMrfroRuV3YU127ZBXxtlu-iHNXqFuo-tjQN65BtmAOp4nipHHZMcUow/s400/IMG_3852.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at Ishkashim, where we heard there was a set of traffic lights. High hopes for some tarmac too. Hopes dashed pretty quickly!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 17:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> 79km,
7hrs/11hrs. Khorog (2140m) (Pamir Lodge)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A long day but we made it! We’ve
been hearing about an Indian Restaurant that’s here for days now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can’t wait to have a curry and then a huge
sleep tomorrow!!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ucc7CUri0_Nf-TIV-o2FGu8lC5875MkiPAyUqpe65bBCV_xGTm1sg-9DnjTISv2AjHLarrSLaIG4vT6mtcKJJAdcJYuYAIdDP3LmTNx2Sb7zjG9aAQvkTlxK-z_X427euUJCaOyICIg/s1600/IMG_3860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ucc7CUri0_Nf-TIV-o2FGu8lC5875MkiPAyUqpe65bBCV_xGTm1sg-9DnjTISv2AjHLarrSLaIG4vT6mtcKJJAdcJYuYAIdDP3LmTNx2Sb7zjG9aAQvkTlxK-z_X427euUJCaOyICIg/s400/IMG_3860.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even though we were pretty close to Khorog at this point, the road was still in terrible condition.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23WO2dFwWc9nrPdUG4kLTUxeGhNAkMzr9h42jnkiH2gyx4TwNqzqMX3dLdDJjBtzlLpeZMhcjILU5g0CMxQcmjb303XZLwKF0zSbrd6mNkAYs2iLrnyLHolepl2EJ1BV_u-72v_hcQP8/s1600/IMG_3869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23WO2dFwWc9nrPdUG4kLTUxeGhNAkMzr9h42jnkiH2gyx4TwNqzqMX3dLdDJjBtzlLpeZMhcjILU5g0CMxQcmjb303XZLwKF0zSbrd6mNkAYs2iLrnyLHolepl2EJ1BV_u-72v_hcQP8/s400/IMG_3869.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadRsAa_VWrj4i9Q1Cnee7omK0uByHmEt3OK-RHNeLX27952E1j2BbVDRW6bpUgv5fd0pFvnRVssV8MqJyQjv95KxeNz08Mlkyipp4ZLQV9rcbcnamjxSwjWwVdsniCfsfnZH3L1sIdWI/s1600/IMG_3887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadRsAa_VWrj4i9Q1Cnee7omK0uByHmEt3OK-RHNeLX27952E1j2BbVDRW6bpUgv5fd0pFvnRVssV8MqJyQjv95KxeNz08Mlkyipp4ZLQV9rcbcnamjxSwjWwVdsniCfsfnZH3L1sIdWI/s400/IMG_3887.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 18 & 19:</span></b><span lang="EN-US">
Days off, Khorog<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Day 20:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> We took a
jeep with our bikes today, all the way to Dushanbe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The road from Khorog to Dushanbe is
apparently the worst section yet and although it’s only a distance of about
550km it seems to take people on average 9 days to do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just didn’t have that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to apply for our Uzbeki, Turkmeni and
Iranian visa’s in Dushanbe and we need the time to do that before our Tajik
visa expires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got to Dushanbe after
12 hours of some of the mentalist driving I’ve ever witnessed, but our bikes
made it unscathed so it was grand.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve been in Dushanbe for a week
now and have successfully got our Uzbeki and Iranian visas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are relatively straightforward to get.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Turkmen one on the other hand is
notoriously time consuming, and even then, not guaranteed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve to go back to the embassy on Thursday and it <i>should</i> be issued to us then but we aren’t holding our breath…we’ve heard
plenty of horror stories and loads of people that have just give up on it and re
routed instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> If we don't get it our only option will be to fly over Turkmenistan which we are not particularly keen to do! Just thinking about boxing up the bikes for a flight gives me a headache, so fingers crossed we get the visa and we'll be back in the saddle on Friday!</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you want to see more photos, please check out our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bikebackhome/?ref=br_rs">Facebook</a> page or click on the link below --></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/stef.russell/media_set?set=a.10157116790780065.629265064&type=3">BBH - Tajikistan</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-66900011103451576592016-06-18T14:02:00.001+03:002016-06-18T14:02:56.611+03:00We have fallen in love with Kazakhstan!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Cycling through Kazakhstan</div>
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<br />Nick Doranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171601608203346863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-68341033043575803232016-06-18T13:23:00.001+03:002016-06-18T13:23:19.472+03:00Died and Gone to KyrgyzstanHeaven is a concept that I've always struggled with. A paradise, a garden of eden, but also a place that can be all things to all believers. I don't know anyone who could vividly describe what heaven is to them but I'm petty sure it's in Kyrgyzstan. When people say 'I've died and gone to heaven' after eating a particularly rich piece of chocolate cake or some other such thing, what they really mean is they've been transported to Kyrgyzstan. They mightn't be aware of it, but believe me, the scenery that we've just cycled though, is out of this world, heaven-like, totally breath-taking and had I not seen it with my own eyes, it'd be hard to believe that such a place exists, so natural and unspoilt by us humans. Instead of trying to contort the surroundings into a way that better serves people, or more usually, better serves <i>more</i> people and helps richer people get richer, here the people live <i>in </i>nature, with it and aware of it, taking what they need from it and no more, leaving it to continue giving and providing for generations to come. The Kyrgyz nomads have it right.<br />
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**Photos are at the end this time instead of in amongst the text. Feel free to scroll to the bottom to see them and skip the wordy bit!<br />
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I have to admit that when we crossed the border from Kazakhstan into Kyrgyzstan I was feeling a little blue. Kazakhstan had taken us so completely by surprise. We could never have imagined the level of hospitality that was shown to us there. Nor did we anticipate the sense of calm the country would bring with it, which was only heightened after the chaotic and always-on style of life that we'd experienced in China. I didn't think it possible that Kyrgyzstan could be as enjoyable a place as Kazakhstan, so it was with a bit of a heavy heart that I got my exit stamp from the Kazakhstan officials.<br />
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The border is only 30km or so from Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan's capital city, so you are in an urban area more or less immediately. It was a complete contrast for the rural crossing we made in Kazakhstan and immediately I convinced myself I had been right. Kyrgyzstan just wasn't going to live up to everything that Kazakhstan had been.<br />
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Fast forward a couple of weeks and I know realise that I couldn't have been more wrong. It's true that Bishkek didn't exactly pull me in, I wasn't looking into work opportunities or planning my return but once we left the city, my thoughts on the country did a complete flip turn. Immediately on leaving the city limits we were bombarded with warmth and smiles from the locals, with waves and shouts of hello, and with offers of food and board. And again, nobody seemed to be looking for anything in return. It was all simply out of the goodness of their hearts. It appears a free lunch does exist, in Central Asia at least. <br />
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At first the concept of strangers being so generous towards us was hard to accept. Partly, I suppose, because for the most part these strangers have less than us. Less in terms of material wealth and possessions anyway, but perhaps more in terms of community bonds and an understanding that material things don't bring happiness, people and interactions do. I think locals often feel sorry for cycle tourists, deeming them to be so poor they <i>must</i> travel by bike, having no home and no jobs. The idea that we've chosen to do this, not out of necessity but in search of adventure, seems to elude them for the most part. But it doesn't matter, what little they have, they share. Not just with us, and the multitude of other cyclists we've met along the way who all have similar tales, but with anyone who crosses their path and seems to be in some way in need. We've come to accept that they want nothing in return, that what they are showing us is a genuine generosity and altruism and instead of trying to pay them for their kindness, we should pay it forward and adopt their welcoming attitude towards strangers we met that we are in a position to help in some way.<br />
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It took us 9 days to cycle 670km between Bishkek and Osh, taking us up to over 3100m on two occasions. The first climb began on the second of nine days. We left the sleepy village of Sosnovka and immediately started climbing. I dropped straight into my granny gear and stayed in it for the next 48km, a distance that took us nearly nine hours to cycle. We met a German guy, Tom, on a recumbent, that day who we cycled with as far as Osh. He's been on the road for 14 months now, the first 12 of which were with his wife and 5 year old daughter. The climb was tough but thankfully there were only short sections where it was unbearably steep, forcing me to stop every 50 rotations of my pedals! For a while we were even following behind a small herd of horses and their herder. It didn't take the burn out of my thighs or the ache out of my lungs but it provided a beautiful distraction and a desire to continue. Finally getting to the top that day, and looking back at the road snaking down the valley as far as the eye could see, brought with it a massive sense of achievement and even a tear or two as I struggled to grasp where I was and how I'd got there.<br />
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At the top of that pass was a horrible tunnel that we hitched through. It was dark, bumpy and narrow, and going through it high up in a truck cabin, all I could think was thank god we'd decided not to cycle it. The truck driver brought us down the, far side too as a result of some miscommunication. We'd only meant to go through the tunnel with him but, as it turned out, the light was fading quickly and there was nowhere to camp in the steep sided valley so it was just as well really. About 20km later we were at the valley floor, and in the pitch darkness we motioned we'd like to get out. He seemed a little confused but pulled over non the less. We unloaded the bikes and panniers, said thanks a million and waved him off, before pushing the bikes about 50 meters in off the side of the road and throwing up the tent. The next day we were face with another climb. This time from 2200m, where we'd camped, to 3175m at the Ala-Bel Pass. I stupidly thought it'd be easy because I didn't see any switch backs on the map, but I was wrong. It was never very steep but it was continuous. It took us five hours of cycling to cover the 70km to the top, or eight hours if you include breaks! With that pass done I was sure it was all downhill to Osh. How wrong I was. The next two days were up and down, a lot. Short sharp ups and an intense heat meant that sweat was dripping constantly off my head onto my knees. These ups were followed by steep, unevenly surfaced downhills. The kind of downhills that are almost more effort than the uphills. You can't go too fast because of the pot holes and lumps and bumps, so by the end your hands hurt from pulling the breaks and you've got no momentum built up to help with the next uphill. All the concentration needed to negotiate the bumps and holes in the road, combined with the heat and in inability to drink enough water all made for a, mentally, very tough day. We were both feeling a bit wonky so when we passed a cafe we pulled in, ordered a litre of coke and a mountain of noodles, scoffed the lot and fell asleep for a couple of hours before taking off again.<br />
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Despite the hills, and the roads that often looked like a toffee bar that had melted in a child's pocket, only to be chucked in the fridge and solidified, with dips and troughs, lumps and bumps, creases and folds, I've never once felt like packing it all in. With so much time to daydream on any given day, I've often imagined myself to be cycling on some kind of Willy Wonka creation. The road looks exactly like something Augustus Gloop would be only too eager to get his greedy mitts on. Its often soft, gooey texture makes it look like a giant liquorice bar! Sometimes the lumps and bumps are so big it feels like I'm at the hurdy gurdies and combined with the mind-blowing scenery, it doesn't seem entirely impossible that I might in fact be in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.<br />
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We've never cycled for nine days in a row before. The most we'd done before this had been six days and after nine of the most gruelling days yet, including three punctures in my back tyre, I can't tell you how good it felt to get to Osh, to know there was a bed and a shower waiting for me and a few days where I had nothing to do only eat and sleep. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1, leaving Bishkek and getting into the countryside</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMkzVnIDTrM-vFnqsW8hUjTUK0pGcht7Mm82AgAtTOrE1uQOQAtjxST89kSzV-6CZZc3699bfamhYQbhCG8HKwqfWstuCNoseAb2QwW0OTIYxA-3Dbdq3y4CiAyg57cCsjMAUhf79gHU/s1600/IMG_2874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMkzVnIDTrM-vFnqsW8hUjTUK0pGcht7Mm82AgAtTOrE1uQOQAtjxST89kSzV-6CZZc3699bfamhYQbhCG8HKwqfWstuCNoseAb2QwW0OTIYxA-3Dbdq3y4CiAyg57cCsjMAUhf79gHU/s400/IMG_2874.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This man and his son were walking along the road in the picture above and called us in for tea. Tea here is like tea at home - an informal word for dinner (as in 'what's for tea mum?) and we were treated to salads and beef, bread and jam, washed down with lashings of tea....just like the Irish!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick on the road just before Sosnovka where we stayed in someones sitting room, the table all set up for a family celebration of some sort the following day</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVcNDp4UQtOybpRhooecW5xKmbUzF9eJZm94uMVQeqb8OlE5O8AzwI8TukxatkfloAHda25gXwowlR-eHsQyGx-fYjO4aROESKD6NFL_EjRfZq_PN09YhbM2Iuzymy-YtvQQZ-nsv8Pz8/s1600/IMG_2896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVcNDp4UQtOybpRhooecW5xKmbUzF9eJZm94uMVQeqb8OlE5O8AzwI8TukxatkfloAHda25gXwowlR-eHsQyGx-fYjO4aROESKD6NFL_EjRfZq_PN09YhbM2Iuzymy-YtvQQZ-nsv8Pz8/s400/IMG_2896.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 2 and the beginning of our the first serious climb on our BBH trip</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9 hours of this made for a pretty tiring day!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back down the road. At this point I kept telling myself we couldn't have too much further to go. We were only 3 hours into what would eventually be a 9 hour uphill.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at the top. Looking back down I didn't quite believe I'd cycled up to this point. I'm not sure I've ever felt such a strong sense of achievement as I did standing here and taking it all in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blue dot in this picture is where we were standing in the photo above</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bikes and gear all loaded and waiting to go through the tunnel at the top</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-IEA24K_GcjRks1m_BGmqbkH4rMNK6fIWXTygTmi61G838VeF_F2Q445UpgqDWgg25ML8z3dQ9RH_6D35ulGDarAjLuSJNnQOab1W2SbHLc1ce8S7qy8-Adm7agQY6omL7pbcwQEthFI/s1600/IMG_2917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-IEA24K_GcjRks1m_BGmqbkH4rMNK6fIWXTygTmi61G838VeF_F2Q445UpgqDWgg25ML8z3dQ9RH_6D35ulGDarAjLuSJNnQOab1W2SbHLc1ce8S7qy8-Adm7agQY6omL7pbcwQEthFI/s400/IMG_2917.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dreaded tunnel!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nZwCX_I3qgPRzG8osNPJRdQ26hUMtSsjKVsncGg3SCHwVbXTnd1dHUSgG4bBWdOzRunSquSddVNZ6nsRTU35ub9D240GskRpeFo3Of6ppUgWWOirF9TghNV2HCCvRRpuE-qoodNJF6Y/s1600/IMG_2922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nZwCX_I3qgPRzG8osNPJRdQ26hUMtSsjKVsncGg3SCHwVbXTnd1dHUSgG4bBWdOzRunSquSddVNZ6nsRTU35ub9D240GskRpeFo3Of6ppUgWWOirF9TghNV2HCCvRRpuE-qoodNJF6Y/s400/IMG_2922.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp spot on the far side of the tunnel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5El-FZO7tjK3-Mo19MkcjVGqlYAaaFMEgF7h6CpdgUYkVfSAyqzc9_bP8AQpfBP11blcvH5XyY_njLtdw6WYiJQAX4VUR1cJctBJYnDd7XpwefR4ferMN7Y0hh8W8S39n3vfjednyhM/s1600/IMG_2923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5El-FZO7tjK3-Mo19MkcjVGqlYAaaFMEgF7h6CpdgUYkVfSAyqzc9_bP8AQpfBP11blcvH5XyY_njLtdw6WYiJQAX4VUR1cJctBJYnDd7XpwefR4ferMN7Y0hh8W8S39n3vfjednyhM/s400/IMG_2923.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beginning of Day 3 and what I thought was going to be an easy day. It wasn't</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih69NdYMM-U4JC_zQym2skzEnAkfvncgWqho2TKk3PRi-AFPZ3TOZPjGC4418P0IcVjH4tV9Hj4CwnRtbtZ-s2-BIU6SwRbAxki4lSmpRxq5bzJAPvd49xfNNCyMjdScUkK37nlZkZkn8/s1600/IMG_2932.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih69NdYMM-U4JC_zQym2skzEnAkfvncgWqho2TKk3PRi-AFPZ3TOZPjGC4418P0IcVjH4tV9Hj4CwnRtbtZ-s2-BIU6SwRbAxki4lSmpRxq5bzJAPvd49xfNNCyMjdScUkK37nlZkZkn8/s400/IMG_2932.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom, the German guy we cycled with the whole way.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYV9b4CAK5ue5liO-lH_1y0xvG_LZv5-lzpgI8w6ab3vlpNl4XlGlgN_bgnO3VthhjBxp_XRBmGy_KEHv5aJkSimhrwE3lvFL3Jp4Gjks6b4fWCvgQP3gAXy-Fj_Si0_Jx1OKPBejRR8/s1600/IMG_2939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYV9b4CAK5ue5liO-lH_1y0xvG_LZv5-lzpgI8w6ab3vlpNl4XlGlgN_bgnO3VthhjBxp_XRBmGy_KEHv5aJkSimhrwE3lvFL3Jp4Gjks6b4fWCvgQP3gAXy-Fj_Si0_Jx1OKPBejRR8/s400/IMG_2939.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here a yurt, there a yurt, everywhere a yurt yurt!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvRu8wjA9vT1czqDATisGPDKJ0sQOzwLVYJ4D_04IsK5ba1bZ655MKhUBqIMZ5qo3khygNMFjvtGeZbzYUgoXqlw6s4glbc3WvEiRuO0cmDAENRZRi8e73R4aUDYqPkaKOmZfRrrgg3o/s1600/IMG_2941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvRu8wjA9vT1czqDATisGPDKJ0sQOzwLVYJ4D_04IsK5ba1bZ655MKhUBqIMZ5qo3khygNMFjvtGeZbzYUgoXqlw6s4glbc3WvEiRuO0cmDAENRZRi8e73R4aUDYqPkaKOmZfRrrgg3o/s400/IMG_2941.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhLVPqVrW-SWozRKNn-sbXBYpckX-3OxChq6dQE1Ch_aMkpZmg4IXlajIbv6rn_DF3IVq1d5v6zDa4WPWhJVteNXSUH-iBEKT0Qg6iTL_yy7uTi_xqHvdPI_PkROU8DgqsOhs4tg2HWI/s1600/IMG_2952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhLVPqVrW-SWozRKNn-sbXBYpckX-3OxChq6dQE1Ch_aMkpZmg4IXlajIbv6rn_DF3IVq1d5v6zDa4WPWhJVteNXSUH-iBEKT0Qg6iTL_yy7uTi_xqHvdPI_PkROU8DgqsOhs4tg2HWI/s400/IMG_2952.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical 'died and gone to Kyrgyzstan' view!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyvQKXjvtQRhuykQLZG5MuctkIUUrkPTOjSPdl_tterQL_RTHx3a6TUsc47Q-caEzxFhd6knvJ7hlQEV9-0or7-lwfIyRyWiS50amTPOxZ2qlKHxHfDhfeleBuLVwd01OFLMCw7hGnC0/s1600/IMG_2958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyvQKXjvtQRhuykQLZG5MuctkIUUrkPTOjSPdl_tterQL_RTHx3a6TUsc47Q-caEzxFhd6knvJ7hlQEV9-0or7-lwfIyRyWiS50amTPOxZ2qlKHxHfDhfeleBuLVwd01OFLMCw7hGnC0/s400/IMG_2958.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and another</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxOpsHRwTep-XSurDFM9mqY7KOZV8FpXCuING-Kq61Mk_ba4GRA73I5ccctRjFhDhrZmW6dGyQlKtyxUnmLsGp4xYpUunUZjYVonRvh43APJaHD9R2qppdqlRCsZchtUgwE_8Qz93gnE/s1600/IMG_2974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxOpsHRwTep-XSurDFM9mqY7KOZV8FpXCuING-Kq61Mk_ba4GRA73I5ccctRjFhDhrZmW6dGyQlKtyxUnmLsGp4xYpUunUZjYVonRvh43APJaHD9R2qppdqlRCsZchtUgwE_8Qz93gnE/s400/IMG_2974.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom listening intently to this man's story, but not understanding any of it I imagine!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHv_GHfXE3a0fjI7DpdBUBO1XBt5VvAJ3qyF1o0m5DMAFtPCwmgKvm29-RqnPBfwSffw_rT0LqJq8R98VxZ003WjxC2K0TpAFKgpWb8JwkhbrqpqISzHEg06o-5T7BzvJ4y4jPj1rk78/s1600/IMG_2982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHv_GHfXE3a0fjI7DpdBUBO1XBt5VvAJ3qyF1o0m5DMAFtPCwmgKvm29-RqnPBfwSffw_rT0LqJq8R98VxZ003WjxC2K0TpAFKgpWb8JwkhbrqpqISzHEg06o-5T7BzvJ4y4jPj1rk78/s400/IMG_2982.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh horse milk in the bucket, turned into fermented horse milk in the barrel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiePHmegUdIMWbZj5EJn8u60fGbEcfr2iSRKxdgxMKvDhx8xDBimd77MTG34e_ZrwMC8RBFqwNNP19URcoLudb_L9J0KtnbyLudtJxU-N415uKxB_PD7DAnTA7fJhwtSb4pEXesK1v8BmY/s1600/IMG_2985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiePHmegUdIMWbZj5EJn8u60fGbEcfr2iSRKxdgxMKvDhx8xDBimd77MTG34e_ZrwMC8RBFqwNNP19URcoLudb_L9J0KtnbyLudtJxU-N415uKxB_PD7DAnTA7fJhwtSb4pEXesK1v8BmY/s400/IMG_2985.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3LDzFzmLc-HmUd-tODQT-j7A5CKIAIRQINqbYUJ7mKqYFnPF3CcTNyCxLr8A9plRbId2nKdNwvjpAJf3DFq0g92ljCCBJWYqqmA0lviK8PUFQxcVifRiaLSDPrH0eu72Ux6dfzxTqoY/s1600/IMG_2992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3LDzFzmLc-HmUd-tODQT-j7A5CKIAIRQINqbYUJ7mKqYFnPF3CcTNyCxLr8A9plRbId2nKdNwvjpAJf3DFq0g92ljCCBJWYqqmA0lviK8PUFQxcVifRiaLSDPrH0eu72Ux6dfzxTqoY/s400/IMG_2992.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The man whose yurt it was, with two Kyrgyz tourists. He called us in as we were passing and not ones to pass up a free meal, in we went!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDpAwZBF_kODBH5Ms__Wkigz5mvxCsqM8AeMzs_DB2lRfgZ7wzYuU18C4DBAPySNiGdrGb4xa41YC0BUZrGIB47Uc-SGzl3KYOeC3jKB9vhbJtq26-EVtWwnlo2Xxo0orEW3qb6pYHW0/s1600/IMG_3002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDpAwZBF_kODBH5Ms__Wkigz5mvxCsqM8AeMzs_DB2lRfgZ7wzYuU18C4DBAPySNiGdrGb4xa41YC0BUZrGIB47Uc-SGzl3KYOeC3jKB9vhbJtq26-EVtWwnlo2Xxo0orEW3qb6pYHW0/s400/IMG_3002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2sq_wrUgKAlMy8emw2YI8z2gjdMBx0VBfTaIfUh_ApNy695tY7HpWfn57Y-9To3jM6Idc5j5kLMI6RqG2h5z1HKAgA-VQe8NHw0O6GoTRDULaoPCuxT2eB0JZ8OdDoZsHa8EQNvxE8l8/s1600/IMG_3014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2sq_wrUgKAlMy8emw2YI8z2gjdMBx0VBfTaIfUh_ApNy695tY7HpWfn57Y-9To3jM6Idc5j5kLMI6RqG2h5z1HKAgA-VQe8NHw0O6GoTRDULaoPCuxT2eB0JZ8OdDoZsHa8EQNvxE8l8/s400/IMG_3014.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Look behind you!'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqKHX1qb4aE0czCua3pbTh2wu2w9yOxO5sYBEb-L4mfPSeJogHBoe-P5DickApeVE0cl1w3IYR-HhMnfeH9EfNhR2jJKiej0tlQeXfyLRA3lwJBbcIXJZQyoDP9SKc6LpBMvTSge0ma-c/s1600/IMG_3032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqKHX1qb4aE0czCua3pbTh2wu2w9yOxO5sYBEb-L4mfPSeJogHBoe-P5DickApeVE0cl1w3IYR-HhMnfeH9EfNhR2jJKiej0tlQeXfyLRA3lwJBbcIXJZQyoDP9SKc6LpBMvTSge0ma-c/s400/IMG_3032.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another 'died and gone to Kyrgyzstan' view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTZqJ19ZPF70MHh_uMDMVQZv7goPPNBOYbfLwgnGHsV9vwT8xl_aujKkn32s4GDSgotD7svlAQh5jwgM3GPlaqaxrNLIfi3IjoVFQWH5XI1Zc_6pzxEsycPDdhb8wFB6eweq9eo8bYvw/s1600/IMG_3034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTZqJ19ZPF70MHh_uMDMVQZv7goPPNBOYbfLwgnGHsV9vwT8xl_aujKkn32s4GDSgotD7svlAQh5jwgM3GPlaqaxrNLIfi3IjoVFQWH5XI1Zc_6pzxEsycPDdhb8wFB6eweq9eo8bYvw/s400/IMG_3034.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ala Bel Pass, at last! After numerous false peaks, I was very glad to be here, especially as it was after 7 and I was aching to pitch the tent and get into my sleeping bag!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWYrs5Wa7NCSbytywAIkkuMx1wJUVS7ivJKSBAJ7LXdT3jWs9DFe1_9qf3OJRIYRSBlgsUYPtbXrinr_IEqIs_xwRTVNpIfFEY93H81BjVT47kbQkA3SOXdiTa9p2BfGfuUGBhxUAIL4/s1600/IMG_3037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWYrs5Wa7NCSbytywAIkkuMx1wJUVS7ivJKSBAJ7LXdT3jWs9DFe1_9qf3OJRIYRSBlgsUYPtbXrinr_IEqIs_xwRTVNpIfFEY93H81BjVT47kbQkA3SOXdiTa9p2BfGfuUGBhxUAIL4/s400/IMG_3037.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming down the far side of the Ala-Bel Pass. A fast, but cold, descent.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn14evzr2W7BqaWGJth5xNNggqIz6IX8Unz7qUiZd_EDtVnUiM3G6YVpofyBUc_cfkQrrWvUSRz82I3Ktkmv4S7B16AlDrL57R1E42QPVxEgqKtsnaVc3NHJUc5_lRmnihKwWo04aotYw/s1600/IMG_3052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn14evzr2W7BqaWGJth5xNNggqIz6IX8Unz7qUiZd_EDtVnUiM3G6YVpofyBUc_cfkQrrWvUSRz82I3Ktkmv4S7B16AlDrL57R1E42QPVxEgqKtsnaVc3NHJUc5_lRmnihKwWo04aotYw/s400/IMG_3052.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast, nomad style!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3zMSAAtVMx0nj450B0V0yBed0c2KGvK2Ms5mPxmO0A7OyKvU1Y8zk8h3fcNak1BgJAMTBTEYacbb7Nu_kRoOgD1aLNnx3ULSAHhIlYNXeu4CnQfSNIkHv7znalGNeeb_KpVhMiKs0uo/s1600/IMG_3071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3zMSAAtVMx0nj450B0V0yBed0c2KGvK2Ms5mPxmO0A7OyKvU1Y8zk8h3fcNak1BgJAMTBTEYacbb7Nu_kRoOgD1aLNnx3ULSAHhIlYNXeu4CnQfSNIkHv7znalGNeeb_KpVhMiKs0uo/s400/IMG_3071.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beat that for a breakfast view!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took out our frisbee and played with this guy. He loved it and was amazingly good so we left it with him. Judging by the big grin on his face when he realised it was his, I think it was a good decision!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another valley, another view. This time it was like a giant links course, a golfer's heaven perhaps!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">278km still to go to Osh and the road had yet to flatten out. I was beginning to realise that it wasn't going to!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A serious Willy Wonka stretch of road, day 5.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp spot Day 5</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trendy cows with their headresses!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick looking for a camp spot as the light faded. Ultimately, a family invited us in for the night and... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35E040ZeNGA1rv12kpQ74u7L5ZCvbIBZrugr1YYs129rkfT45lJ1h0TpBgnvhObtfCvx_fVUdBl4nlYK6zdheZfZecyESlz7Wq5gdlLhwFut0MRRT_LO9LmwqW3RZeUmAUKtJyueX-fw/s1600/IMG_3201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35E040ZeNGA1rv12kpQ74u7L5ZCvbIBZrugr1YYs129rkfT45lJ1h0TpBgnvhObtfCvx_fVUdBl4nlYK6zdheZfZecyESlz7Wq5gdlLhwFut0MRRT_LO9LmwqW3RZeUmAUKtJyueX-fw/s400/IMG_3201.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...this is where we slept</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdAARIEaEYmXlULE3JRV6KDC2WHMcaHg9Qe-BewZDnnan5lBJ7qOSYW5qh6bpCvaMpcaHFqI5mQog4EyB42gGe0nZxU8oanawUjuYL-dzJkOZkGBvEJSLHXNkqkau5mq-6qSd6sURkW4/s1600/IMG_3206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdAARIEaEYmXlULE3JRV6KDC2WHMcaHg9Qe-BewZDnnan5lBJ7qOSYW5qh6bpCvaMpcaHFqI5mQog4EyB42gGe0nZxU8oanawUjuYL-dzJkOZkGBvEJSLHXNkqkau5mq-6qSd6sURkW4/s400/IMG_3206.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the family. They were observing Ramadan so apologised for not cooking us an evening meal. The daughter in the right of the picture spoke some English, the Mother on the left spoke none, but none the less she was quite a character!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBq-2_XAeCHRYjTojgFEQITKpiyovSitfd-inop0qnXTRESMK8RvUAsZ9ZLsm2PjA00gozam4sTKzl8ayoKNTOO05obR-FZsnFSzpbFRBeCZy__PulcY5PekvbpQ_XqEYmo5sA8LuvLBs/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-06-18+at+2.48.57+p.m..png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBq-2_XAeCHRYjTojgFEQITKpiyovSitfd-inop0qnXTRESMK8RvUAsZ9ZLsm2PjA00gozam4sTKzl8ayoKNTOO05obR-FZsnFSzpbFRBeCZy__PulcY5PekvbpQ_XqEYmo5sA8LuvLBs/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-06-18+at+2.48.57+p.m..png" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thought I'd through this in for fun. How I thought any of it was going to be flat I'm not sure!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvYXn1u2CJBJUJr6PkQ0wcLuP_3cJHn748BdlOmuLX5YXC504J0sr5dIL1KugWAzSoRZGTgM39d4AkZkoAt-UEE4hyPBrs3b1vC6lAnt51CJHTQ1Q2C3DGavJxNZByfcS68K6IiZrl3Y/s1600/2016-06-18+15.11.34.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvYXn1u2CJBJUJr6PkQ0wcLuP_3cJHn748BdlOmuLX5YXC504J0sr5dIL1KugWAzSoRZGTgM39d4AkZkoAt-UEE4hyPBrs3b1vC6lAnt51CJHTQ1Q2C3DGavJxNZByfcS68K6IiZrl3Y/s320/2016-06-18+15.11.34.png" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I came across this on Instagram and thought it a perfect way to sum up the attitudes of the people we are meeting in Central Asia.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's been a while since I've paid any attention to our current location map so when I looked at it the other day and zoomed out, I have to say I was quite impressed...we're almost half way home and we are also pretty much bang in the middle of the Eurasia landmass. Check it out below ➤</span><br />
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<iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=14aP0KTGTk2l-0fKSCxDygSuCR34" width="640"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-68355015065467507132016-06-04T12:25:00.000+03:002016-07-12T17:00:32.076+03:00 A Most Hospitable Place<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kazakhstan has come and gone and we're in Kyrgyzstan now. A place where I never imagined myself being. A place where, before we started planning this trip, I'm quite sure I couldn't place on a map, name the capital city or even spell, yet here we are! But first, let me talk a bit more about Kazakhstan...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't have many expectations of Kazakhstan before getting there. I knew that our route through the country was short and that our time there would be quick. If I'm being honest, I had kind of thought of Kazakhstan as just a means of getting to the Pamir Highway. Actually the only real thought I had was that the food was going to take a serious nose dive from the tasty treats we'd been used to in China. How wrong I was. The food was delicious and varied. And so far in Kyrgyzstan we haven't been disappointed either. The beauty of the countryside in Kazakhstan is hard to fathom, at least the small part that we went through anyway. The huge open spaces, the towering mountains, the quietly grazing herds of animals and the lack of too much human intervention into the natural world immediately brings with it such a sense of calm. Being in Kazakhstan just felt good. It felt relaxing. It was a world away from the modern stresses of life, as we've come to know it, in the west. The air was fresh, the sun was warm and I could actually feel my body and mind relaxing and slowing down. Despite all this though, for us, it was the the people we encountered along the way that really made Kazakhstan the place it was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the end of the last post I eluded to a day we had in a small town called </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Teskensu. With rain on the way we were looking for somewhere to eat and hopefully avoid the worst of it. A man on the street motioned us towards a small cafe/eatery and in we went. There were five middle aged women inside, all sitting around one table, two of whom worked there and three that were just socialising. We motioned we'd like something to eat, tried to get across that we didn't mind, what and next thing we knew we were being served up a feast. Then all hell broke loose as the 5 of them crancked up the music and started dancing. We, stupidly, thought it was for our benefit but then I noticed a bottle or two of vodka under their table and it all became a bit clearer. When we'd finished eating they called us over and offered us a shot which we readily accepted. I can't say vodka shots would be up there on my favourite things to drink but we figured it'd be rude to decline. One shot led to two and things snowballed from there. Next thing we knew they'd invited us to stay the night and we were all busy swapping Whats App details and showing photos of our families to each other. Our Kazakh </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">wasn't up to much, unsurprisingly, and the Russian translator we had downloaded proved to be useless when they more or less poo poo'd Russian saying they were Kazakh. Fair enough. They didn't have a word of English between them but it's amazing what a combination of gestures, smiles, drawings and photos can communicate.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 of the 5 women, and the cafe that it all happened in!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The initial dancing, that took us totally by surprise</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nazgul, banter-monster and party-starter extraordinaire!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A couple of hours later and we were being bundled into a car, not entirely sure where we were going. At first we thought they were bringing us to the house we'd be sleeping in so we were trying to get our toothbrushes and the likes out of our bags but then I saw a bag of food, a bottle of vodka and a picnic blanket! Next thing we knew we were in the car of the local chief of police, driving like maniacs up the smallest bumpiest mountain road you can imagine, with two other cars in convoy. It turned out it was his birthday (he was a friend or relative of one or more of the women from earlier). With the picnic blanket out we only had time for one quick shot before lightening ripped through the sky and it started to lash so it was back into the car with us where the party continued. I'm not sure what happened to the other two cars but we went on a road trip, ending at a hospital where the policeman's wife went in to visit her mother and we sat in the car park having yet more vodka. We got back to the cafe at about 10pm where everyone else was waiting with a birthday cake. A slice of cake and a couple more shots before the policeman excused himself saying he had some work he needed to do! The rest of us continued eating, drinking and dancing in his absence.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The picnic before we had to abandon ship when those clouds burst open</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The night ended about 1am. We were put up in Heria's house, one of the women who owned the cafe. It was just a short walk to the house and when we got there she gave us hot water to wash our feet and then made up beds for us in a spare room. The house was a beautiful old country cottage, not too dissimilar from one you'd find in the west of Ireland, simply decorated and obviously looked-after with pride.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The room we slept in: one in the bed, one on the floor.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heria's house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some outbuildings on Heria's land</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next morning they fed us to bursting point again before we went on our merry way, and for all of this they wouldn't hear of accepting any money from us. We did however put some US dollars into an envelope and said it was for their next party. I can't imagine they will ever show up on our doorstep in Ireland so that we can return the favour in kind, so this was our way of showing them our appreciation. They accepted the gift graciously, and they seemed touched that we had in some way paid them back for all they gave us. The warmth, generosity and kindness these total strangers showed us was what made it the day it was, rather than any one specific thing that happened. We were welcomed in, treated as honoured guests, and all without any expectations or promises of something in return. It was a case of people, humankind, at its best. Just wanting the good things in life, the simple things, the important things. To be happy, to share experiences and to connect with other people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We pedalled away the next morning with tears in our eyes and our hearts bulging with happiness and contentment. The really amazing thing about that day, and those people, though was that the welcome we got from them wasn't unique. Travelling by bike seems to immediately break down any barriers that may exist between us and the locals. It becomes a talking point and it opens us up to experiences that just wouldn't be possible otherwise. The bikes make us approachable in a way that travelling by car or bus wouldn't. We are experiencing so much, learning about people and places we knew nothing about, making unforgettable memories, forging new friendships and all the while realising and reaffirming our belief that the vast majority of people everywhere are by their very nature good, honest and kind and just want to live a happy life filled with other good, honest and kind people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I mentioned at the beginning, we are in Kyrgyzstan now. We are in Bishkek, only 30 odd kilometres from the Kazakh border so we're yet to experience much of the country or people but I'm quite confident that we will continue to have experiences like the one above. We are leaving Bishkek in the morning, and heading to Osh, where we will officially be starting the section called the Pamir Highway. With high mountain passes (some over 4000m) and a corresponding decrease in the amount of Oxygen available in the air, it's not going to be the easiest section but, it's the part of the trip we've both been looking forward to the most, and from what we've heard, I don't think it'll disappoint.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">*Sorry that there aren't too many photos this time. As always though you can see some recent ones on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bikebackhome/">Facebook page</a>.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-3203205265429098022016-05-30T07:12:00.001+03:002016-05-30T07:13:13.594+03:00The real last video from China! From Jinghe to Khorgos: the border with Kazakhstan.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Our Final three days in China were spectacular. We had some great experiences, made new friends, and we have left China with wonderful memories.</div>
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Nick Doranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171601608203346863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-81591350365909226152016-05-29T13:39:00.000+03:002016-07-12T17:02:33.726+03:00Kazakhstan - A Breath of Fresh Air<div>
It felt great to get back in the saddle after our time off in Urumqi, although my body wasn't quite as excited as my mind was, if truth be told. The 500km or so from Urumqi to Jinghe were fairly uneventful but then the mountains reappeared on our left, and all was right in the world. The highlight of that stretch was without doubt Sayram lake, despite the fairly brutal climb up to it at 2100m. Making brekkie the morning before we arrived at the lake we were sitting in our camp chairs in shorts and t-shirts. Three hours later we were piling back on the layers and hoping that the ominous looking clouds that had rolled in weren't going to dump on us, and they'd roll back out again as quickly as they'd rolled in. Still later in the day, while we were tucking into a nice big bowl of noodles in a little shed of a place that appeared on the roadside just as we'd run out of water, it started to sleet. The variation of temperature in just one day was hard to believe, and in hindsight, even harder to remember if it really happened that way. From shorts and t-shirts to thermals and waterproofs in a matter of hours. We waited the sleet and hail out and made a dash for it when it stopped. The people in the restaurant told us we were mad to be considering camping at the lake saying that it would be very cold and the forecast was bad but, we were determined. We'd camped in the cold before and were pretty sure our gear was up to it so we thanked them and headed off anyway. Ten minutes down the road the sleet started again but the lake had just come into view and we knew we'd made the right decision. The view was immense. The lake is huge and surrounded on all sides by massive mountains. The tallest peaks of which were snow-capped and the lower slopes were covered in grass so green it looked like someone had painted it, as well as a dense smattering of buttercups. The moody grey sky, the almost turquoise-coloured water, the green grass, the yellow buttercups and the brilliantly white snow, made for some view. Each time we camp we think we've hit campspot nirvana and this time was no different. We cycled around the lake to the side closest to the direction we'd be going the next day. It was all action. Nomads, their yurts, horses and camels were everywhere. It seemed to be moving time. We think lots of families were on the move for the summer months, coming from lower down where they'd spent the winter, to set up camp by the lake.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mountains on our climb up to Sayram lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch, sheltering from the hail and sleet outside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first view of the lake. A hint of Dalkey Island to it I thought?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This gigantic yak called the lake home and was just freely roaming about the place.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our camp spot. Not bad, I think you'll agree! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving the lake the next day on what was our last day's cycling in China.</td></tr>
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After a cold night, there was ice on the tent again in the morning, and a quick dip in the lake for Nick (basically just to prove he's a hardy eejit!) we packed up and hit the road. 70km of the 90km to Horgos (the Chinese-Kazak border town) was downhill through spectacular valleys and we flew along, delighted with ourselves. The road, called the G30, is a motorway and it has signs up at the slipways onto it that say no bikes allowed. We'd been on the G30 for more than 1000km and had had no trouble but it was still always in my mind that we shouldn't be on it. This day however, we passed a farmer on horseback herding his cows up the otherside of the motorway. If a herd of cows is allowed, or at least tolerated, two cyclists were hardly going to cause much drama!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The valley we cycled down through after Sayram lake on the way to Horgos</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch time. We asked for 8 dumplings. The guy said no, that wouldn't be enough, how about 60! We said yes and gladly gobbled them all down!!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiipdEAPUB97NbOYYo6BwTDDic11e8pWcvBpozLZ_Ib0DiuIAIxpRWK8PLcGRQLpXU9d3Qgevup2UBg8sEJ0SP-U0iggBsB9FpbQB2b7bZaJHWLszMYG5EzQGT79NYRJPH0nxKos8G50/s1600/IMG_2429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiipdEAPUB97NbOYYo6BwTDDic11e8pWcvBpozLZ_Ib0DiuIAIxpRWK8PLcGRQLpXU9d3Qgevup2UBg8sEJ0SP-U0iggBsB9FpbQB2b7bZaJHWLszMYG5EzQGT79NYRJPH0nxKos8G50/s400/IMG_2429.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These boys in Horgos were delighted to chat to us and chaperoned us from the town to the border, delighted to be of help to us helpless eejits!</td></tr>
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Arriving into Horgos, it was hard to believe that we'd done it, cycled the whole way across China. 4812km over 84 days, 30 of which were days off the bike. Not too bad! We were both pretty ready to be heading to a new country after so long. Not that China hadn't been great, just that it had been so long, slowly inching our way across the map.</div>
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Like I mentioned on a Facebook post earlier, leaving China and entering Kazakhstan felt like we fell down some sort of worm hole and came out on the far side in a totally different, unrecognisable place. After a bit of negotiating, we were given permission to cycle the 7.5km of no man's land between the two border posts (usually you have to take a bus), and once at the Kazak side we were welcomed whole-heartedly. There were no baggage scanners, trusting the Chinese side not to let anything slip through, and the sniffer dog they had on hand to check baggage was fast asleep in the corner, also choosing to trust the Chinese scanners!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling the 7.5km of no man's land between China and Kazakhstan</td></tr>
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Immediately on crossing, everything was different which seems a ridiculous thing to say given that a border is such a man made construction but it's true. Even the landscape was different and, had it not been for the towering mountains to both our left and right it really would've been unrecognisable. In China, every little bit of land, if not built on, is tilled and farmed and the fields are separated with rows of birch trees. The roads are straight, and have been built through towns and villages, giving traffic a right of way and totally ignoring the natural landscape, ploughing though anything that stands in their way. The roads are also sealed off from the surrounding areas by fences. Well maintained fences at that, so that the only way off the road is via the slip-ways every 20-50km. China's infrastructure, as well as the land, has all been planned and developed in a way that gives priority to big business and the economy as a whole, at the expense of small villages. I suppose it isn't the second biggest economy in the world by accident! Kazakhstan, by comparison is as untouched as possible. The countryside is natural. There are no fences on either side of the roads. There aren't any birch trees in sight, and instead there are lots of tall, wild grasses and the odd squat, shrub-like tree. The roads weave slightly, going around corners and up and down hills instead of just going straight. But it wasn't just the country side that was immediately different. The people were different. Faces have a much greater European/ Slavic look to them. The food was instantly different too. We ate in a tiny cafe on the border and there wasn't a noodle in sight, never mind a pair of chopsticks, yet here we were only a hop, skip and a jump from China. In recent years the border has opened up for locals and visa-free travel is allowed now for Kazaks and Chinese in an effort to encourage trade between the two nations but until then it must have been virtually sealed or else how could two sides of the same town be so utterly different?!</div>
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I don't think either of us realised quite how busy and hectic China had been. It's a country that is completely non-stop. It never sleeps. The roads are never quiet. If there's one constant, it's the trucks and their continual hauling of all sorts of everything from one end of the country to the next. Although the roads were smooth and the drivers, for the most part, very aware of cyclists, giving us lots of room, there was a constant feeling of 'we must press on', a constant need to cover the kilometres, to just 'get there'. That feeling lifted immediately when we got into Kazakhstan and suddenly we found ourselves cruising, stopping to take in the scenery, breathe in the calm and cherish every second of it all. There was no rush, no need to get on. Quite the opposite in fact. We are going slower. The distance from entry border to exit border is under 600km and we'd thought we'd do it in six days and wait until Bishkek to take a couple of days off. Instead, we cycled 30km on from the border to Zharkent where we immediately decided to take a day off and soak up our new surroundings. So far we are on our 8th day here, and we'll probably take three more days to cycle the 200 or so kilometres to the Kyrgyz border.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch immediately across the border.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The land is allowed to be in it's natural state and any animals (horses and cows mainly) roam about freely and all look so healthy and happy. Why wouldn't they be in a place like this?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This jeep was driven by an Italian couple who were on a three month road trip. We'd stopped for a break when they passed and they stopped to check we were ok :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oUeFaBJ7igMshAevGr34c3m8hyphenhyphen3f3tcKlYQtjlmLMD761eH6NGdy0YvrFJUBmhaNcFdANaD73nyBGo9U1eAoClzLYeqVxsDPQU22VlHM9JAcu-_GKaya6zpADhyphenhypheneBJ5mSFfI7rU07M0/s1600/IMG_2595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oUeFaBJ7igMshAevGr34c3m8hyphenhyphen3f3tcKlYQtjlmLMD761eH6NGdy0YvrFJUBmhaNcFdANaD73nyBGo9U1eAoClzLYeqVxsDPQU22VlHM9JAcu-_GKaya6zpADhyphenhypheneBJ5mSFfI7rU07M0/s400/IMG_2595.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5000km! We stopped here for lunch. It looked to be as good as anywhere to have a picnic!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2H9APH6rfS0tlZWU2MUUARE12_wgms5QZRB61WeedsL5GRL3nFxJo_PpLDiw2CThsb6P15ex3AordyLh1VV9Cf0Zv3l8Uxj_EiFdSWi2NHHeVvduCfIvqO0VdL2c5dJEtwb2G9x1SfY8/s1600/IMG_2624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2H9APH6rfS0tlZWU2MUUARE12_wgms5QZRB61WeedsL5GRL3nFxJo_PpLDiw2CThsb6P15ex3AordyLh1VV9Cf0Zv3l8Uxj_EiFdSWi2NHHeVvduCfIvqO0VdL2c5dJEtwb2G9x1SfY8/s400/IMG_2624.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We took four days to cycle from Zharkent to Almaty, where we are now. The first night we cycled as far as Shonzhy. Just before the village we met an English girl <a href="https://razistan.co.uk/">Nic</a>, going in the opposite direction and heading for Russia and Mongolia. She's been on the road on and off for 3 and a half years and it was lovely to chat to an English speaker...it'd been a while. We also passed a retired Italian couple traveling overland in their jeep through Russian, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. They didn't have much English but they looked as happy out on their trip as we are on ours. Just before we met them, I cycled over a snake on the road. The yelp I let out was something else. Nick turned around to see me cycling with my legs held up and out over my handlebars and a panicked look on my face, the snake reared up thrashing about wildly behind me! My god, I got some fright. I thought it was a piece of rubber and was already on top of the damn thing before I realised my mistake. I've been taking any rubber on the road since much more seriously, I can tell you! Anyway, in Shonzhy, we stopped at a little stall for some grub where the man working there, an Uyghur, when hearing we were from Ireland and had come from China, equated the Uyghur peoples relationship to China with the Irish peoples relationship to England. The belief that we in the west have a superior education and world knowledge is really such a sham and it's embarrassing to realise that although you know that, you are surprised by someone in a small town, in a land you know nothing about, making such a spot-on comparison. Especially since, given our supposed superiority, most Irish people could barely place Kazakhstan on a map, let alone know anything about its people. And here was this man, a 'lowly' street food vendor, making such an informed comparison.</div>
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We stayed that night in a local guest house. A room with four beds, of which we were the only occupants, so we wheeled our bikes in too. The woman who lived there and ran the place, asked if we minded if she, and her little baby, went in to our room to watch TV. Of course not, we motioned. When we came back to the room after a wander around the town, there she was, propped up on one of the beds, breast-feeding the little boy, with the TV blaring a Russian dubbed melodrama. She looked pretty comfy and we didn't mind so we didn't disturb her when it was time for sleep. We fell asleep to the TV and when I woke later to go to the toilet, she was still there and the TV was still on!</div>
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We were slow to get going the next day because I woke up to a flat back tyre. There was a tiny hole in the tube but neither of us could see what had caused it, the tyre looked fine, so we patched it and got on the road. We planned on camping that day and had stopped to get some dinner just as the light was beginning to fade. We finished eating and were going to cycle a couple of kilometres until we found a nice little spot to pitch the tent, but my tyre was flat again. Clearly there was something in the tyre that I just hadn't noticed. Very annoying. We decided to just pump it up, find a camp spot, bed down and deal with it the next day. When the sun came up the next day, the mosquitos came out in force so we scrambled to pack up camp, pumped my tyre again and dashed to the nearest town, 10km away, where we settled into the shade of a bus stop to fix this stupid puncture once and for all. After about 30 minutes of super close inspection of the tyre, I found a hair-like ribbon of metal about half a centimetre long that had been doing the damage. It must've been stuck in there for over 1000km but my god was it satisfying to find it and yank it out. With my tyre fixed we rolled on and because lunch time coincided with some ominous looking clouds, we pulled into the little town of Teskensu for something to eat. On entering the only cafe in sight, the wildest, wackiest and most wonderful day of the trip so far started....but that deserves a whole post of it's own.</div>
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In the meantime you can see more photos from Kazakhstan in our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bikebackhome/?fref=ts">Facebook</a> album:</div>
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="597" scrolling="no" src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/post.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fmedia%2Fset%2F%3Fset%3Da.10156899546605065%26type%3D3&width=500" style="border: none; overflow: hidden;" width="500"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-59479230601788967392016-05-18T19:13:00.002+03:002016-05-18T19:13:48.955+03:00Arriving at the far side of China<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We're gonna miss you China!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467331269535305543noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-51795946879759603872016-05-09T13:49:00.003+03:002017-03-02T14:34:15.619+03:00China: between X'ian and Urumqi<br />
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<br />Nick Doranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171601608203346863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-10652799370301799552016-05-09T07:27:00.001+03:002016-05-09T11:04:21.019+03:00Just Tourists Now, Not Cycle Tourists!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Saturday was spent in somewhat of a
delicate state after indulging in one or two (too many) cocktails the night before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found the most unlikely of little bars,
run by two guys who studied cocktail making (mixology?!) in Shanghai for 5
years before coming back home to Urumqi and opening this little gem of a
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never really been one for
cocktails before, not really seeing the appeal of overly sweet, artificially
fruity, expensive drinks in small glasses but after being in this bar, I’m a
convert. I think I just hadn’t ever had a good one before! These guys were
artists and took their trade very seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We sat at the bar and I watched them, fascinated, for the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think the reason it was such a great place
was because the boys clearly loved what they do, and it showed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, as I was saying, Saturday was spent
mostly on the couch watching TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dad
of the house, who’s name we can’t pronounce and who we call ‘Pops’, came home
about 7pm with fresh bread and a bag of green chilli peppers and proceeded to
whip up a meal for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charred peppers,
pieces of marinated pork that we’d had the night before and big chunks of fresh
bread. So simple, but so tasty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then out
came the tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told us that Chinese
people love tea, but he especially loves tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He took out a huge big tin that was full of all kinds of different teas;
black tea, red tea, green tea and who knows what else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loose leaves, but vacuum packed to preserve
freshness and all in one-cup size portions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We tasted about 6 different ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our favorites were called ‘Golden Eyebrow’ and ‘Big Red Cloak’!</span></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve really fallen on our feet with this
family.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They are constantly telling us
to make ourselves at home and to relax.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They make us brekkie and dinner and tell us to eat more and to relax and
recover.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Meal times are simple
affairs.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The food is put on one or two
plates in the centre of the table and everyone just digs in.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s all very informal.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Food that doesn’t get eaten will reappear at
the next meal.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Food is food, and isn’t
separated into breakfast foods or dinner foods.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sweet and savory are all served together.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eat as much as you want to, wash it down with
some tea and leave the table.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They won’t
let us help with the dishes or with preparing the food, we are honored
guests!</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62n_Jiq3WvzUh9DPp3j5vfXvFuGYbjKRfaL14BUDCi0MUesjaPAh6eZ8FAa4mv5wawUqHMP1zNyTr3KainwtXyLq43HdyEsgA1ZPWTMJ9yKHTky32edvw0NbJEacpaAN4_Axo0BnVHko/s1600/IMG_2130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62n_Jiq3WvzUh9DPp3j5vfXvFuGYbjKRfaL14BUDCi0MUesjaPAh6eZ8FAa4mv5wawUqHMP1zNyTr3KainwtXyLq43HdyEsgA1ZPWTMJ9yKHTky32edvw0NbJEacpaAN4_Axo0BnVHko/s400/IMG_2130.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pickled Duck Eggs for Breakfast</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDbbkv91A2PICRJPqyYdz2_RJhYG0OoL8k2bSytY2tNmJWq1oDKWYMeA9mdEsFG7lyfkcK2icnsazhnNPO2-b9VJs3BHcJxXpW9Fn8fjSfpTzf3ThDBd5OYrDTE5wXwtlQeYZmHo9xPU/s1600/IMG_2131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDbbkv91A2PICRJPqyYdz2_RJhYG0OoL8k2bSytY2tNmJWq1oDKWYMeA9mdEsFG7lyfkcK2icnsazhnNPO2-b9VJs3BHcJxXpW9Fn8fjSfpTzf3ThDBd5OYrDTE5wXwtlQeYZmHo9xPU/s400/IMG_2131.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This map of China is on the kitchen table. It's nice to stare at it at meal times and remember all the places we've cycled through so far!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWOToe-rwELtDr_cnG3UHOiah3pbVte-rj6UAcENaEbxPQ43JrhSbBGyOLm5RZFHhovaofuXwxybie-rdIY5doXpwN44Xmow7aPR53KAXIniWUiTtWTUFYF6SFGZQiurvK8gkV35kfjs/s1600/IMG_8253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWOToe-rwELtDr_cnG3UHOiah3pbVte-rj6UAcENaEbxPQ43JrhSbBGyOLm5RZFHhovaofuXwxybie-rdIY5doXpwN44Xmow7aPR53KAXIniWUiTtWTUFYF6SFGZQiurvK8gkV35kfjs/s400/IMG_8253.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going for a walk with our host, around the nearby reservoir (Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjT-eytXdXipi_Vtk0JCvPdXf4ChHgsSmlBbn5cCCQesm_4ymERWAvaq4hciKe-PoZtgnl0fNX3LaX2mY-X6pFt-TqNeXWdxdvDwlJngYrzLMRVJwFFWqh_rRkmse_SxkzIJYKnFXMF4/s1600/IMG_2074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjT-eytXdXipi_Vtk0JCvPdXf4ChHgsSmlBbn5cCCQesm_4ymERWAvaq4hciKe-PoZtgnl0fNX3LaX2mY-X6pFt-TqNeXWdxdvDwlJngYrzLMRVJwFFWqh_rRkmse_SxkzIJYKnFXMF4/s400/IMG_2074.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chita, the family's very cute, and very energetic, kitten!(Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They are also a very green conscious
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hot water comes from solar
panels on the roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sun means no hot
water which takes a bit of adjustment when you’re used to hot water on demand
but quite quickly seems a much better way of living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They recycle everything and create as little
waste as they can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the kettle is
boiled it is filled up to the top and then the excess is put into a thermos
flask for later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such small, simple
little things but they highlight just how wasteful we westerners are when it
comes to energy and water use.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s not just this family that’s been
looking after us while we've been here though!</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve had another one
take us under their wings too.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">A Chinese
guy called Can who's from Urumqi, and who studied in UCD and stayed as a lodger with a friend of my aunt’s, got wind of our arrival. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">He now lives and works in Shanghai but when
his family heard we were in Urumqi they fell over themselves to look after
us.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">His dad, with yet another unpronounceable
name, came to meet us one day last week in a city centre café.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">He didn’t have much English but, as with our
host family, the translator on our phones worked a charm.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">He took us out for lunch where he ordered
three different kinds of noodle dishes as well as skewers of grilled lamb.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">He wouldn’t hear of it when we tried to
pay.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Next, he took us to a park in the
city centre for a walk and a spin up the city’s big wheel.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Again, he wouldn’t let us pay and insisted on
buying ice-creams for the big wheel ride!</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then we went to his mother’s house, where we watched some Chinese TV and
ate some kind of cheese before we went to join 8 other family members for a
banquet of a meal in a gorgeous restaurant.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They treated us like part of the family, welcoming us as long lost
relatives back into the bosom of their family.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They toasted us and wished us well on the rest of out trip, making us
promise to ring if we had any problems.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The hospitality we’ve been shown at every stage has been unbelievable
and helps to remind us that people all over the world just want the same thing,
to live a happy, peaceful life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiA3IKGDqbybDU3qtcjMepqiyNDOIOUvPuH1lKmtxX6kjT32zss8j8W0cMpDr2uOqxLBLPMC8fiFPLP2KReXId9K6hGfoim_BMXkc_qVlUGqHcT8HIFmMIx3osqwSdc7K-7Qo7ub2Y_As/s1600/IMG_2104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiA3IKGDqbybDU3qtcjMepqiyNDOIOUvPuH1lKmtxX6kjT32zss8j8W0cMpDr2uOqxLBLPMC8fiFPLP2KReXId9K6hGfoim_BMXkc_qVlUGqHcT8HIFmMIx3osqwSdc7K-7Qo7ub2Y_As/s400/IMG_2104.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can's dad and Nick at Red Mountain Park</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38ZoCrPAt0JHBscTN6rxTqi_hICx5tvCFOxOIYRiDmogQALYsfL-js23gbkHfBG8byxRq6elEr1aQPAXu2T2ElEWYyvTR6xL50myrgBy2t37kYyy_sUWQAFYaEC_zCctd1FxzzJ4bJ0Q/s1600/IMG_2110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38ZoCrPAt0JHBscTN6rxTqi_hICx5tvCFOxOIYRiDmogQALYsfL-js23gbkHfBG8byxRq6elEr1aQPAXu2T2ElEWYyvTR6xL50myrgBy2t37kYyy_sUWQAFYaEC_zCctd1FxzzJ4bJ0Q/s400/IMG_2110.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhZA4ijfAK0WAge5ii3V3ucuX5cQ2jgb7DISBOWDGZGDhBmxDVzLvY1p6sm6VWnwEaqn8NSxvGnKY2TsPJYRHSKg4zSg_QFiai9yBd5lSKoqi4HOXPHUX8koq9Ogx4b8ict2ViSIqumY/s1600/IMG_2114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhZA4ijfAK0WAge5ii3V3ucuX5cQ2jgb7DISBOWDGZGDhBmxDVzLvY1p6sm6VWnwEaqn8NSxvGnKY2TsPJYRHSKg4zSg_QFiai9yBd5lSKoqi4HOXPHUX8koq9Ogx4b8ict2ViSIqumY/s400/IMG_2114.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Urumqi from Red Mountain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrefjIFwH6C5O1KUYnzt_PfBmmNhK9CYgZQwNjEbTn2kmjdUNwcomfuINzdKQ5w6b3UMJP45rrVR8YkqvnjxUgE4MJOl4QUAATNiBjOdm_5fSw-CisbOVCySRyCYfEOg09xqCkZr7-K0/s1600/IMG_2119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrefjIFwH6C5O1KUYnzt_PfBmmNhK9CYgZQwNjEbTn2kmjdUNwcomfuINzdKQ5w6b3UMJP45rrVR8YkqvnjxUgE4MJOl4QUAATNiBjOdm_5fSw-CisbOVCySRyCYfEOg09xqCkZr7-K0/s400/IMG_2119.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Cherish your life, no crossing"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZUVj7xAl0HE0e6440gEkwYhT286Da4k-NmXUKy62YJ-nikZLGUbs48sjzkyETNISW-UmbTRoe3KcEmhX4_xqqtUdQjMe9k0K8CUix7a_n7OIZbb-LfmxHHdZoMYfRLARCo4NKq6FzI3A/s1600/IMG_2122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZUVj7xAl0HE0e6440gEkwYhT286Da4k-NmXUKy62YJ-nikZLGUbs48sjzkyETNISW-UmbTRoe3KcEmhX4_xqqtUdQjMe9k0K8CUix7a_n7OIZbb-LfmxHHdZoMYfRLARCo4NKq6FzI3A/s400/IMG_2122.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The restaurant Can's family took us to in the evening for dinner. The food kept coming and coming. As did the booze. We rolled out of the place at the end of the evening!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9EOEb9HjnjGJnpanbkF1fsAZK5EGCkPEPFaoxQslGFs7semRsBNeBNRVhejMI63EfnD5S3gh6r4bX3E1EC7YO7pwHeSDgK-p4xfkfUxjxTckdk9zfbMYBeDzgtoSnlAG0Hz5FRx7wLs/s1600/IMG_8213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9EOEb9HjnjGJnpanbkF1fsAZK5EGCkPEPFaoxQslGFs7semRsBNeBNRVhejMI63EfnD5S3gh6r4bX3E1EC7YO7pwHeSDgK-p4xfkfUxjxTckdk9zfbMYBeDzgtoSnlAG0Hz5FRx7wLs/s400/IMG_8213.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Us with Can's dad in Red Mountain Park (Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioPMwnUPpyAsYfJhxKW2I1vAMAdc4oVOJEqDFsQs2HP_kvz84rplJawi3iAZ6SZp61Ccwz8Sg0hikWwkIJoPWDkq7XtGJtLXpYNUI0qi18WjCBAjH4YHYucxOOt5kKsn56p5NMrwY5Tv4/s1600/IMG_8223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioPMwnUPpyAsYfJhxKW2I1vAMAdc4oVOJEqDFsQs2HP_kvz84rplJawi3iAZ6SZp61Ccwz8Sg0hikWwkIJoPWDkq7XtGJtLXpYNUI0qi18WjCBAjH4YHYucxOOt5kKsn56p5NMrwY5Tv4/s400/IMG_8223.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can's dad and his grandmother (Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpttydv7NGIXsRXpWkU3eFhbvEcG0nFAfSSXRWV2HwI2E8kx3F6j-MqaJRTTiPE1F4fTwY-AkwbESXGw0EuCjkJucEJ-cwZkaIcMBTTdRQ5KivRVwju27ljc3PERH7IfVw0-BTKG_W03A/s1600/IMG_8225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpttydv7NGIXsRXpWkU3eFhbvEcG0nFAfSSXRWV2HwI2E8kx3F6j-MqaJRTTiPE1F4fTwY-AkwbESXGw0EuCjkJucEJ-cwZkaIcMBTTdRQ5KivRVwju27ljc3PERH7IfVw0-BTKG_W03A/s400/IMG_8225.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlW26KyP8tCVJFjCX1aHArmGaeLuU6QN80JlJndsIc8i5E3JjVs7Kyiim1qAuW3lDhJVUgGSrSsuZOpaVc2Y1ZLMY236IlADsfqIRb1QXNAcpdYTg9P0BT49rt1IdLFrA17cWj-9z_U88/s1600/IMG_8229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlW26KyP8tCVJFjCX1aHArmGaeLuU6QN80JlJndsIc8i5E3JjVs7Kyiim1qAuW3lDhJVUgGSrSsuZOpaVc2Y1ZLMY236IlADsfqIRb1QXNAcpdYTg9P0BT49rt1IdLFrA17cWj-9z_U88/s400/IMG_8229.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYT_boz9VdZPXytEEwpHSqcaTT24B5NjSf3hxsrBidWnt0arHzWTyLiAXRCMZ4b2z8u8l0gfHGcHGc9xfbAo4sBVTepOPweE6zly3MzUuCLKgB1fWkYRSOzkSsJp4lVTc0atVNOdqqRCI/s1600/IMG_8231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYT_boz9VdZPXytEEwpHSqcaTT24B5NjSf3hxsrBidWnt0arHzWTyLiAXRCMZ4b2z8u8l0gfHGcHGc9xfbAo4sBVTepOPweE6zly3MzUuCLKgB1fWkYRSOzkSsJp4lVTc0atVNOdqqRCI/s400/IMG_8231.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last night, our host family cooked dinner for us, again. They really have been amazing, going so far above and beyond what's expected from an Airbnb host. Their English is limited but that doesn't stop them from saying 'Eat More' constantly when it's meal times. Last night they told us to eat so that we won't be home sick! After dinner, which was as delicious as ever, they asked did we want to go and see the Tian Shan mountains. We weren't entirely sure if they mean to go to a view point or for a walk or what but we said yes, pulled on our shoes and followed them out to the car. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqewjtI9N3T9S0ifLQ7J2bH91UnYG72fbcHvADBZVoua9xS2ssO3080L6iXeKPXg2A9gcLeiHwdl1nxrscseNWcyEDVkDMHrm20g7D7T95HnncYzMDZA9njbDI_Dl1ZsSAO1YOpw0_Usw/s1600/IMG_2134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqewjtI9N3T9S0ifLQ7J2bH91UnYG72fbcHvADBZVoua9xS2ssO3080L6iXeKPXg2A9gcLeiHwdl1nxrscseNWcyEDVkDMHrm20g7D7T95HnncYzMDZA9njbDI_Dl1ZsSAO1YOpw0_Usw/s400/IMG_2134.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tian Shan Mountain Range</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKCqBUXv5pXiS88mae-eBE8ndpZFqzlMNQtEifvVDs37PKsy5hcMkUYhhZcA-gp6pXUZuOc84coQ24v1oTITD-3Dzh225_F6oXgi7hCU3ZmFOAO_bBgUydWj7ohg8ktJPZb8szlwBxnM/s1600/IMG_2137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKCqBUXv5pXiS88mae-eBE8ndpZFqzlMNQtEifvVDs37PKsy5hcMkUYhhZcA-gp6pXUZuOc84coQ24v1oTITD-3Dzh225_F6oXgi7hCU3ZmFOAO_bBgUydWj7ohg8ktJPZb8szlwBxnM/s400/IMG_2137.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyGfVEPxviCx5qdYwvwDSzSQ5tCF8AYQhRsVcZfd3UH_PjJmvSguuMGvUIO4bSSiy4dtklYRQqhwTkd-2HmKlAXj41gCp8ybL0yGMcQ0z9mrizB-EifyS_xy8rOp_-Ug5hMtkfVYuucQ/s1600/IMG_2140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyGfVEPxviCx5qdYwvwDSzSQ5tCF8AYQhRsVcZfd3UH_PjJmvSguuMGvUIO4bSSiy4dtklYRQqhwTkd-2HmKlAXj41gCp8ybL0yGMcQ0z9mrizB-EifyS_xy8rOp_-Ug5hMtkfVYuucQ/s400/IMG_2140.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3Tr6UFE6BRgIhSNlpGFvCjFeU0s7KPlbluIfWaMZjEf5yqVUqbUTSboo-CxSD1BnidRvgRWQGENIDObZQXVh1VXVKii0wScjv1KIxN3vaSojuZEX1Kgd8N5dAHaXpTb0uSeFVKGy_Fs/s1600/IMG_2145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3Tr6UFE6BRgIhSNlpGFvCjFeU0s7KPlbluIfWaMZjEf5yqVUqbUTSboo-CxSD1BnidRvgRWQGENIDObZQXVh1VXVKii0wScjv1KIxN3vaSojuZEX1Kgd8N5dAHaXpTb0uSeFVKGy_Fs/s400/IMG_2145.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our AirBnB hosts / adoptive family! Plus gigantic Mountains in the Background!</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve been here in Urumqi a week now and
I’ve almost forgotten how we got here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Did we really cycle? Our bikes have been locked away down in the
basement the whole time we’ve been here so we haven’t even seen them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve been getting buses about the city,
going out for meals, drinking coffees, eating ice-creams, wandering through
parks and markets, reading books, watching tv.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s been such a lovely break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
only hope that my body doesn’t go into shock when we get back on the bikes on
Thursday and I ask it to once more pedal kilometer after kilometer, day after
day!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvatU7jwDFCHMUusXaOMkOV9_ecSQRbIJzdxvwk4e5AUL8DJw8VEA4OOm9madmlCgb29ZZ0chHxscOgMFxtDgkiMc3UYTP6jHcsIm0GOFH-vQgNLdV5B1SokpwwllMnXkxucufe2nSGM/s1600/IMG_8186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvatU7jwDFCHMUusXaOMkOV9_ecSQRbIJzdxvwk4e5AUL8DJw8VEA4OOm9madmlCgb29ZZ0chHxscOgMFxtDgkiMc3UYTP6jHcsIm0GOFH-vQgNLdV5B1SokpwwllMnXkxucufe2nSGM/s400/IMG_8186.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some medical students we met on our way into Urumqi city. We cycled back into town with them. (Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiALPgR1JftuE3ByxHVTTrMMMjOw5DzY0bFLk_V5Im_yArcnAPFNHCwJQXKss-tTAxfr0Eozq1f7BVY8iyLvj_tFyF9zmcYUHA-sWMch9axLp68CS6NlaRaTj1ePKSqcs1UwpEdJctrNk/s1600/IMG_8187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiALPgR1JftuE3ByxHVTTrMMMjOw5DzY0bFLk_V5Im_yArcnAPFNHCwJQXKss-tTAxfr0Eozq1f7BVY8iyLvj_tFyF9zmcYUHA-sWMch9axLp68CS6NlaRaTj1ePKSqcs1UwpEdJctrNk/s400/IMG_8187.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Nick's Photo)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UNCsRpUii1OYq7WN_A2cWRI20HIznd3D64-xnXaJ3HZ5B6BLn1TZYo-PF0AUMeyhMRMC2hyY6lrCI0cvBbDxGWiOMuABRTaO9xfsFckk_mtuWsQ16VPmQFuFHJCBtFn6q80n5rhn7dc/s1600/IMG_2128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UNCsRpUii1OYq7WN_A2cWRI20HIznd3D64-xnXaJ3HZ5B6BLn1TZYo-PF0AUMeyhMRMC2hyY6lrCI0cvBbDxGWiOMuABRTaO9xfsFckk_mtuWsQ16VPmQFuFHJCBtFn6q80n5rhn7dc/s400/IMG_2128.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local solutions to outdoor electrical problems!<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-66548481389809534432016-05-08T11:37:00.000+03:002017-02-15T15:31:54.361+03:00We're in Urumqi!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’re in Urumqi. The capital city of
Xinjiang Province, the most western province in China, and also the city
furthest from the sea of any in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We’re currently taking a compulsory week off the bikes while we wait for
our Kazak visas and are staying with a Chinese family that we found on Airbnb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are three people in the family, the
parents and their adult daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
also have a kitten, called Chitah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
apartment is big, spacious & modern and the family live in much the same
way that we, or any other western people, do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we say that we are staying with a Chinese family I can only imagine
the images that people will conjure up in their minds – eating meals on the
floor, wearing conical straw hats, living in dimly lit, squalid rooms, bathrooms
with poor sanitation etc etc etc – but none of these images hold, at least not
for this family. They are part of the ever-growing Chinese middle class and
with that comes a certain striping of culture, a leveling of the playing field
so to speak.</span></span></div>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Urumqi, and Xinjiang Province in general,
is very different from the other areas of China we’ve been in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people fall mostly into two ethnic groups,
Han Chinese and Uyghur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both Mandarin
and Uyghur are official languages here and as a result English has been
replaced by Arabic on the road signs, leaving us in a bit of a pickle!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Uyghur people are a predominately Muslim
people who look much more Central Asian/ Middle Eastern than they do Chinese,
giving the place a much more diverse feel to it than other areas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, there appears to be considerable
tension between the two groups of people, and as a result there is a scarily
heavy police and military presence on the streets at all times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not so long ago, the two groups coexisted
quite peacefully but now everyday life is pretty segregated with kids attending
different schools and the people living in separate neighborhoods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s an odd situation and one that we’d like
to know more about but the lack of English spoken locally and our obvious
failings in Uyghur and Mandarin make asking questions pretty difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you were to believe everything you read in
the media then the Uyghur people are a bunch of violent, bomb detonating
lunatics but we’ve been here long enough now to know that the truth, and what
the Chinese media would have you believe is the truth, aren’t exactly well
aligned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From what we can see, the
Uyghur people, who it would seem have been in this region a lot longer than Han
people, are being persecuted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They seem
to be discriminated against much like ethnic minorities in many countries or
regions worldwide, only they aren’t a minority and they were very much the
majority until the government started to relocate Han people to this region not
too long ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They seem to occupy the
lower echelons in society, living in poorer neighbourhoods and working at the
more menial jobs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, like I said,
it’s an interesting place, and one that we’d really like to understand a bit
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suppose we have a week now to
try and delve a little deeper!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOZ1wJ1FyqDbgnidmLLuYHdlncTAG08epOPe47Hor9elzSOguxuvdJ-Ub9gTI75lNu3z0GT9pIgz99bWLv09C6AMY081pTjE2KmkR8CEDJWJDYUV0HpxSdwBigDfslyP3q1mRJqdOYR4/s1600/IMG_8264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOZ1wJ1FyqDbgnidmLLuYHdlncTAG08epOPe47Hor9elzSOguxuvdJ-Ub9gTI75lNu3z0GT9pIgz99bWLv09C6AMY081pTjE2KmkR8CEDJWJDYUV0HpxSdwBigDfslyP3q1mRJqdOYR4/s400/IMG_8264.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tanks, Guns, Bayonets...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So what about the cycling? Well, it’s been
more of the same really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t believe
the last update either of us gave was as far back as Zhangye. It’s hard to even
remember it, that was so long ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
is so much the same to everyday (we cycle, we eat, we sleep) that even though
we are passing through new places, experiencing changes in scenery and
landscape, having all sorts of weird and wonderful interactions, the whole lot
has a tendency to blur into one big mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We’ve camped twice more since the last post, both times in equally
stunning places to the first spot, but much warmer!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather in general has been much warmer
actually, we even broke out the shorts and t-shirts for a day or two, but we
did have to take refuge in Yumen for a day and a half while it snowed!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mountains and deserts have dominated the journey
from Zhangye, and we had some sweltering days in the desert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One in particular stands out when I had sun
cream dripping into my eyes because my head was sweating so much – a lovely
experience altogether!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The worst weather
by far though was the wind we encountered just before reaching Dabancheng. It
was so bad that after two hours of battling into it, and covering a mere 9km,
we flagged down a passing van and hitched into the town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was still 40km away and we wouldn’t have
made it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d been keeping an eye out
for a sheltered camp spot to absolutely no avail and I’m not entirely sure what
we would’ve done had we not been rescued! The winds were gusting at up to
50km/hr we found out later, and it’s not unheard of for trucks to be blown over
and trains to be de-railed in that area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once again though, the friendliness and kindness of the people was
overwhelming, and turned what could have been a total disaster into a lovely
encounter and a highlight of the trip.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Speaking of highlights, we’ve cycled past
lots of camels over the last little while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Herds of wild ones, roaming the vast expanses of the desert between Hami
and Turpan, as well as domesticated ones chilling out in the compounds of
people’s homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another obvious
highlight was passing the quarter way mark of 3750km.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were on a 19km stretch of downhill with a
tailwind at the time but we stopped for a quick road side celebratory dance and
a selfie before continuing on our way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqIwz5tzyYznofrbq6toEDRAGbQ-G_ACwS4DaMKLyz2j9Lircb0n_lybwNvKRl3MTbcVW6GQsQxKz-D8pejldWJ9K97eM-BL0Ajr5RJxeJRHi2oNV_ALpGwizcsLFWtG5GbGR1_cGfzY/s1600/IMG_7834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqIwz5tzyYznofrbq6toEDRAGbQ-G_ACwS4DaMKLyz2j9Lircb0n_lybwNvKRl3MTbcVW6GQsQxKz-D8pejldWJ9K97eM-BL0Ajr5RJxeJRHi2oNV_ALpGwizcsLFWtG5GbGR1_cGfzY/s400/IMG_7834.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 27th - 3750km cycled - one quarter of the way back to Ireland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now the end of the Chinese road is in
sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fact that is hard to
believe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have I (we!) really just cycled
virtually the whole width of China? Why is it all such a blur? Can we really
only have twice that distance to go again? And what then? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Trying to write a post after so long (it’s
been a month since the last cycle related update!) is very difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much has happened, yet so much is just the
same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One thing that is definitely still
the same is that we are having the time of our lives and loving every minute of
life on the road, and on our big Bike Back Home adventure. Here are some photos to help explain the things we've seen and places we've been...(they aren't in sequence for some reason and the connection isn't good enough for me to have the patience to try and do it all again, sorry!)</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tyqENkl_NGc8e-0s5VrFbEQlQs0yoEfyjL_-8sapLl_E5TaPNhtEBfuq6BvNq2ixKrKNeoyhLAFlbin0D2UM9hpvssNcp0kdHf_o9rWB2hX_bHmfRYGDOadF4TzHKUKz0PSFAozDYEI/s1600/IMG_1870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tyqENkl_NGc8e-0s5VrFbEQlQs0yoEfyjL_-8sapLl_E5TaPNhtEBfuq6BvNq2ixKrKNeoyhLAFlbin0D2UM9hpvssNcp0kdHf_o9rWB2hX_bHmfRYGDOadF4TzHKUKz0PSFAozDYEI/s400/IMG_1870.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp Spot #3</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6E2X7qD1i6SkkMPIpFsqvTtttKcIektRRjp-geZRKm7Y2xVcWEfO2qCX9KRRw_nhzfFIa6C9E4jWIyHj1XjszgDjX0GfauGAv71Sq_fwA_g9_wlH2_L9awNoSqEhI3uLX5vfrG0RxiB4/s1600/IMG_1526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6E2X7qD1i6SkkMPIpFsqvTtttKcIektRRjp-geZRKm7Y2xVcWEfO2qCX9KRRw_nhzfFIa6C9E4jWIyHj1XjszgDjX0GfauGAv71Sq_fwA_g9_wlH2_L9awNoSqEhI3uLX5vfrG0RxiB4/s400/IMG_1526.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp Spot #2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgLZWB52BkkJQf4j3YRwg1C1wFQWcH7oZAbS007IcPDn2WC928EhPhLninNDmiM_MhMkTarV5xRHgQyzYggDMHM32TXUUzhjVsOBIWAbX-HPxUHhB_Kqn0bHAuD1NVU6-C_jFEGvy5s4/s1600/IMG_1522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgLZWB52BkkJQf4j3YRwg1C1wFQWcH7oZAbS007IcPDn2WC928EhPhLninNDmiM_MhMkTarV5xRHgQyzYggDMHM32TXUUzhjVsOBIWAbX-HPxUHhB_Kqn0bHAuD1NVU6-C_jFEGvy5s4/s400/IMG_1522.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A break on a long desert day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrlgfr7ERMg62bWiOc6iP1E6qD2jVW8woPsfaB1eQD4IZqpPcE8MczaRIn5-_SCzbLNCAaHNqO-9-uN8q84FTxB7kl0VdSL9muF7btgIUK-gtKtZtxi_X-gyWQdcMp4cCylYKht_vf7o/s1600/IMG_1556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrlgfr7ERMg62bWiOc6iP1E6qD2jVW8woPsfaB1eQD4IZqpPcE8MczaRIn5-_SCzbLNCAaHNqO-9-uN8q84FTxB7kl0VdSL9muF7btgIUK-gtKtZtxi_X-gyWQdcMp4cCylYKht_vf7o/s400/IMG_1556.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnwSllMmWUy7PMb6-ikdlyN93d00OoZuTBoaM1_T0QA2xfQyDGc8ED8su3JPixvoNUh0OBAewVozETXl3JJKGUwJSBQleAbQ2wQbDV3jKERlbk2fPpvq4pNG0pORl716exJDgSWDd0Q0/s1600/IMG_1552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnwSllMmWUy7PMb6-ikdlyN93d00OoZuTBoaM1_T0QA2xfQyDGc8ED8su3JPixvoNUh0OBAewVozETXl3JJKGUwJSBQleAbQ2wQbDV3jKERlbk2fPpvq4pNG0pORl716exJDgSWDd0Q0/s400/IMG_1552.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPM0TluM9_BzCoyPKgNd8HGoeWNLG7zuVeOBRduEmiiLpsERYZ8XvJd9bNUejcjvnLlB-SY5-zaf0zSM5Z2RrIYdyoZ7DrpxaPVV31Z0Us8x7cy2B6J70_Lp0u95hvhI8VRMfdpnU-xGU/s1600/IMG_1548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPM0TluM9_BzCoyPKgNd8HGoeWNLG7zuVeOBRduEmiiLpsERYZ8XvJd9bNUejcjvnLlB-SY5-zaf0zSM5Z2RrIYdyoZ7DrpxaPVV31Z0Us8x7cy2B6J70_Lp0u95hvhI8VRMfdpnU-xGU/s400/IMG_1548.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We cycled on this road for hours and hours. Just like this, straight and dusty and never ending!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVklfI24g8TsjQ1W91bB8lBC4YKJ2eK0wJ7cJu2DmVxLdHTe_CCZnQqmcUM5MEVk3Ag0Y9BkcPvAxW9XLEZghb6s6i0ztxQ5FcFa7j0JZfg1-4MA-egET49TiDuojxURXGGnqDR3iEYEM/s1600/IMG_1537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVklfI24g8TsjQ1W91bB8lBC4YKJ2eK0wJ7cJu2DmVxLdHTe_CCZnQqmcUM5MEVk3Ag0Y9BkcPvAxW9XLEZghb6s6i0ztxQ5FcFa7j0JZfg1-4MA-egET49TiDuojxURXGGnqDR3iEYEM/s400/IMG_1537.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the view of the mountains from camp spot #2</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUpOEQYrcqdZQWvWM3dEvx3eTB8_pkHYHGLUM2DLp5hAW_Feb8T_YoNE80hTva7Fqc7XAcSqddgcShgWWBAPaA1AWELuhOc0cv8iiQJPti_-b_WrT3CHJQsxhdVEYqQ-Aseoq1sQ6zCs/s1600/IMG_1580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUpOEQYrcqdZQWvWM3dEvx3eTB8_pkHYHGLUM2DLp5hAW_Feb8T_YoNE80hTva7Fqc7XAcSqddgcShgWWBAPaA1AWELuhOc0cv8iiQJPti_-b_WrT3CHJQsxhdVEYqQ-Aseoq1sQ6zCs/s400/IMG_1580.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mountains leaving Jiayuguan. Just before this we'd passed a couple of guys standing at the side of the road with a turtle hanging by it's tail on a stick. Presumably selling it. When we stopped to take a picture they weren't too happy and waved us away. Poor turtle. Animals don't get treated with too much regard here it would seem.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1evUIC-TZ5hWYByl9Nuluk007YEiI6Hb9W-N72F1_0qvzv3KWhyCFqUZcJdiAZnuBpnbIVwmOw2pRbJ_S9gveSZhpB9-hWyvyAycmWUbkaLY0UV6lFSxiUVKDX5YXavPAoZEpvUhQ48o/s1600/IMG_1583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1evUIC-TZ5hWYByl9Nuluk007YEiI6Hb9W-N72F1_0qvzv3KWhyCFqUZcJdiAZnuBpnbIVwmOw2pRbJ_S9gveSZhpB9-hWyvyAycmWUbkaLY0UV6lFSxiUVKDX5YXavPAoZEpvUhQ48o/s400/IMG_1583.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTdnxksPlL936ltOW44tznJ9wX_rkUub4E6NGxqP2LoM7fi06H5d9FrmY-gmjOIgFbuJYtSORkr2pvTUWsIBiB0HOKePLBM53yNl2NRIxf7TooJM4iCiasmID2IDBImyEzHbkkCp51Ww/s1600/IMG_1590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTdnxksPlL936ltOW44tznJ9wX_rkUub4E6NGxqP2LoM7fi06H5d9FrmY-gmjOIgFbuJYtSORkr2pvTUWsIBiB0HOKePLBM53yNl2NRIxf7TooJM4iCiasmID2IDBImyEzHbkkCp51Ww/s400/IMG_1590.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many road side truck stops we've stayed in on the G30. This one was really nice, run by a very smiley man who kindly locked our bikes up in his shed for the night. Had a pretty strong headwind most of the day and only later that night when I was researching the next leg of the route did I discover we'd been going downhill most of the day! Other people reported it being one of the best days cycling they had in China!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeAguCrNgTJgR_ExECSE0bgNtL0DHEsif2NP0494UHTRuw_RKCHdZGZPa7RgNeu1ZG02TopMeL5pY5fOGMdSFZhQml_s9LpRBdYv7ClLiHpOlSFHSaRiNrBsl-gZcRBkaFIvzriyJT_Y/s1600/IMG_1602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeAguCrNgTJgR_ExECSE0bgNtL0DHEsif2NP0494UHTRuw_RKCHdZGZPa7RgNeu1ZG02TopMeL5pY5fOGMdSFZhQml_s9LpRBdYv7ClLiHpOlSFHSaRiNrBsl-gZcRBkaFIvzriyJT_Y/s400/IMG_1602.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Communal dancing, done in all major towns and cities, morning and evening. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When we stopped at her shop, this woman gave us free water, two ice-pops and some lollypops and all she wanted in return was a photo!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggL2Y9ksiC-ttObMr8134ZQQebmUYqn2iCv5aJHwetqmiZ8D-fVNtBpI2RJtd3qVtEoK5kJhxt0ctVudfuNguMnzonJ-cXZLI2s4OuakZEmESr6_zevQPnd2HTB2AseFbVHusFDne_2Pw/s1600/IMG_1863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggL2Y9ksiC-ttObMr8134ZQQebmUYqn2iCv5aJHwetqmiZ8D-fVNtBpI2RJtd3qVtEoK5kJhxt0ctVudfuNguMnzonJ-cXZLI2s4OuakZEmESr6_zevQPnd2HTB2AseFbVHusFDne_2Pw/s400/IMG_1863.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTKG-HG6demDFAT6oUj1H4ar19PSebMbEg4Sft8Nya1gFAqXLc7amfzYJahrnrD5w4mxfI4oxjjaqRKbWjL2ber4-wvBD9rxTabtYu9ayJnPXP48lP5yEhnDPJN8ujqTylnnLplrcAMw/s1600/IMG_1873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTKG-HG6demDFAT6oUj1H4ar19PSebMbEg4Sft8Nya1gFAqXLc7amfzYJahrnrD5w4mxfI4oxjjaqRKbWjL2ber4-wvBD9rxTabtYu9ayJnPXP48lP5yEhnDPJN8ujqTylnnLplrcAMw/s400/IMG_1873.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from camp spot #3</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwBSjGUL0Q092_VW-V5Yt57ZjDwBpeK8BOXj7ulGpd31Ww77cJ7b7dYfmOGUtUsdLd_kMH5a7x55no1IIATUUNUpeAYka87sJ-n3XVysx6rhL-aDAKgESPVmLMAYYcNjSh6-GWf-ib-8/s1600/IMG_1888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwBSjGUL0Q092_VW-V5Yt57ZjDwBpeK8BOXj7ulGpd31Ww77cJ7b7dYfmOGUtUsdLd_kMH5a7x55no1IIATUUNUpeAYka87sJ-n3XVysx6rhL-aDAKgESPVmLMAYYcNjSh6-GWf-ib-8/s400/IMG_1888.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first glimpse of camels. There were 39 of them in this herd, all munching away on the recent spring growth.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHci2tUeVNOoUtGOjeSttUqgIVz8Zh6swq81MomG40mw7nj5nBurv8g_uKxDkFQenithFQ0pZkyHssTb-ZsxeB72V1YTziVh5X_8u3LOmQ643MWTK6C_MHo8rlvv8osx-wBSg1aAjBoI/s1600/IMG_1896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHci2tUeVNOoUtGOjeSttUqgIVz8Zh6swq81MomG40mw7nj5nBurv8g_uKxDkFQenithFQ0pZkyHssTb-ZsxeB72V1YTziVh5X_8u3LOmQ643MWTK6C_MHo8rlvv8osx-wBSg1aAjBoI/s400/IMG_1896.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We've passed so many derelict/deserted communities like this. They are visible all along the side of the G30 but can't be accessed from the road (i.e. there are no slip roads on or off). We think the government built the road through them and the people were forced to leave as a result of a total loss of any passing trade.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPj88SzyL5VZs2cenBj_PSjPrbe-phIUaNDzieApVT2pDAoWmkD-XqBlJC_NYYQOL1c_xllIOETEV-pckjF-mn-1iOAV3BBtso-o9-Uo-c4z6PGjH5bh9RPBMthm7-_VqLw6lofmoUJcA/s1600/IMG_1899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPj88SzyL5VZs2cenBj_PSjPrbe-phIUaNDzieApVT2pDAoWmkD-XqBlJC_NYYQOL1c_xllIOETEV-pckjF-mn-1iOAV3BBtso-o9-Uo-c4z6PGjH5bh9RPBMthm7-_VqLw6lofmoUJcA/s400/IMG_1899.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11km of downhill. Every cyclists dream. These signs are pretty common when there's going to be a long uphill or downhill. Spotting one in the distance I hope that its a downhill and a long one at that. This one was. It was one this stretch of road we passed the quarter way mark.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Lh-2jjwM-Oa9NRAFMiqNw4d3aEHVxGWrZ5j5vbs__K4CC6MQMIH3UjT0IxvhO5uIOghD1kI9puNkmbexlhjc3bPHa8Dh0yJjbV8NQIAeSdD-MB0j3_Qm0OvTcSNlt1LXRD7zaaEaneQ/s1600/IMG_1916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Lh-2jjwM-Oa9NRAFMiqNw4d3aEHVxGWrZ5j5vbs__K4CC6MQMIH3UjT0IxvhO5uIOghD1kI9puNkmbexlhjc3bPHa8Dh0yJjbV8NQIAeSdD-MB0j3_Qm0OvTcSNlt1LXRD7zaaEaneQ/s400/IMG_1916.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where we stayed one night. We were all set to camp but then came across this place. Food and a bed all in one place, winner!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7433Ph5OIz-tpg9CeMCynrvZoABRhaAeNX8g1ExUPK-yJRArc-qx0-zucbBYybIQJkGFQUw_xYOr6aUbPRbT3j-bmEnBlLYvBjggj1qIY_4qHSJu_dVNnYFAuJSsy_qz_DMjHN5QZ44g/s1600/IMG_1934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7433Ph5OIz-tpg9CeMCynrvZoABRhaAeNX8g1ExUPK-yJRArc-qx0-zucbBYybIQJkGFQUw_xYOr6aUbPRbT3j-bmEnBlLYvBjggj1qIY_4qHSJu_dVNnYFAuJSsy_qz_DMjHN5QZ44g/s400/IMG_1934.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are so many wind farms in the North West of China. I can't say I'm surprised, it's a windy place. It's also very sparsely populated so it's great to see them utilising the space and creating green energy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8ULzDYxX864MpMb8eaywkE3ik4hhZ1U1ECm-K5ERmzTl3wH6qHHiA0S6M1FqdIrI7UZmtCyd2RwU5SA2kdX4_4rpidaOtdXt5V4mPjCZN-odAwPUv0IMMv-BsZ5rw5yQQrGXa5RXEdM/s1600/IMG_1938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8ULzDYxX864MpMb8eaywkE3ik4hhZ1U1ECm-K5ERmzTl3wH6qHHiA0S6M1FqdIrI7UZmtCyd2RwU5SA2kdX4_4rpidaOtdXt5V4mPjCZN-odAwPUv0IMMv-BsZ5rw5yQQrGXa5RXEdM/s400/IMG_1938.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No idea what there brick built rooms/buildings were but there were loads of them this day. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast. Dumping of sorts with a bowl of milky soup stuff!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The windy day we needed to be rescued. Doesn't look too mad in this photo but the wind was so strong that even walking was hard, let alone cycling!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhetTLB27i0n3XB2jbzUBZgHWCUtT9J9DZt9M1rS2PVq7xIPi0ziYvavFNd0d3YjFtsEQBTOzx_-gXMDg3aSS5o4WNVg7L3_bEqlydi3ATcSlzOvRaeGaRKGOSl66hc8avigjRA1feQ_oo/s1600/IMG_1996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhetTLB27i0n3XB2jbzUBZgHWCUtT9J9DZt9M1rS2PVq7xIPi0ziYvavFNd0d3YjFtsEQBTOzx_-gXMDg3aSS5o4WNVg7L3_bEqlydi3ATcSlzOvRaeGaRKGOSl66hc8avigjRA1feQ_oo/s400/IMG_1996.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A deserted petrol station in another deserted town along the G30</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR7gTV49eiLm-kGHwD_yvg7IKDKsV_Gm2oe4rn6YJtIfVestreSpSgadsYP4mcSD_M-2PyvPY9TUb8wXhg_ly0OYrdSvUpZHwsosvJ1VaXJ1YOCHSsfQvuuGJnHvdH_LIRIiGxLiKqXTU/s1600/IMG_2030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR7gTV49eiLm-kGHwD_yvg7IKDKsV_Gm2oe4rn6YJtIfVestreSpSgadsYP4mcSD_M-2PyvPY9TUb8wXhg_ly0OYrdSvUpZHwsosvJ1VaXJ1YOCHSsfQvuuGJnHvdH_LIRIiGxLiKqXTU/s400/IMG_2030.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-Y_ONUgUgPhs0GeGGsZoVnERmbNjXI5_j90aAGj47LsHw98nCslabUJZ3OysXjGesXzGptusOK_0xNXfWsvC0e8obgAa1bopz5wQq-C2e4Hspi1fsCg7Twoz9PWXs4IlL-4rkId_dmM/s1600/IMG_2044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-Y_ONUgUgPhs0GeGGsZoVnERmbNjXI5_j90aAGj47LsHw98nCslabUJZ3OysXjGesXzGptusOK_0xNXfWsvC0e8obgAa1bopz5wQq-C2e4Hspi1fsCg7Twoz9PWXs4IlL-4rkId_dmM/s400/IMG_2044.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJT23TPfA559TzVmxzcpNOBrTjG1Y9vbZ0nVgMAO9gWQC6vbyVFcGTZ6IwOdG8PIhT2gEpe-Fw2orxx6hyphenhyphenkztBWsIlBY-rE67bwioq7UdXpYoFXb5b_-B2vfSUgwS4P-YmE-vnIpKu2U/s1600/IMG_2052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJT23TPfA559TzVmxzcpNOBrTjG1Y9vbZ0nVgMAO9gWQC6vbyVFcGTZ6IwOdG8PIhT2gEpe-Fw2orxx6hyphenhyphenkztBWsIlBY-rE67bwioq7UdXpYoFXb5b_-B2vfSUgwS4P-YmE-vnIpKu2U/s400/IMG_2052.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An albino camel! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just outside Urumqi. We met a bunch of medical students who'd cycled out to the lake for the day and we cycled into the city with them.</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-65523558701470261052016-05-04T17:00:00.000+03:002016-05-04T17:00:49.253+03:00A Very Successful Coffee Morning<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Mum and Dad, aka Ann & Charlie Russell</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #666666;">, put on a coffee morning of epic proportions in their home in Dalkey, a little under two weeks ago. They put a huge amount of work and effort into organising the day, and along with a few helpers and an unbelievable turnout of people on the day, they raised a whopping €2,925! </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">So from Nick and I, a huge thank you to you both, as well as everyone who came along and donated on the day. We are constantly amazed at the level of interest, gen<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">erosity and support shown to us on our <span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">#BikeBackHome </span>adventure.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I've put a few photos from the day up on Facebook but for any of you that don't have it, here's a link to them...</span><br />
<br /></div>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="626" scrolling="no" src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/post.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fmedia%2Fset%2F%3Fset%3Da.908456782614364.1073741832.819305898196120%26type%3D3&width=500" style="border: none; overflow: hidden;" width="500"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07862949730232942889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-82318210519852790242016-04-16T13:33:00.000+03:002016-05-08T14:33:35.897+03:00My Experience with Depression.<div class="MsoNormal">
Since we’re doing this cycle for mental health I thought it
fitting to write this post about my personal experience with mental health
challenges. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my early twenties I suffered from depression for about 2
years. It was rotten. Every morning straight after the blissful haze
of awakening, I would feel a kind of hollowness, that nothing was right. However,
I was lucky. Breda, my mum, was amazing. She understood that what I was feeling was
complex, and that it needed to be addressed by a person who understood that
particular type of complexity. She
understood that I needed to be helped by someone who was qualified to help. But beyond her understanding of the need for
that help, she also held no stigma about mental health issues or about opening up
and accepting that sometimes getting help is necessary.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My problems were relatively minor in the scheme of things,
and some of it had to do with the social anxiety associated with the processes
of discovering my own identity. But that
is not to belittle how I was feeling. The difference between the angst of
identity development and the continuous deadening feeling from depression are now clear and discernible in my mind.<br />
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the most part I dealt with the constant gnawing feeling
in my gut through a combination of bombast, humour, kayaking and socialising. I also think that I was, and still am, lucky with
the friends and family I had and still have.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I have no doubt that I <i>was</i> lucky. The reason that I believe that luck played a large part
in helping me deal with my depression is because I suffered from a problem that
was, and I believe still is, treated blithely on a societal level in Ireland. And, as I mentioned above I was lucky that my
mum didn't hold the prevailing ‘you’ll-be-grand’, ‘sticks and stones’ attitude towards
my depression.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, I think that attitudes in Ireland are changing thanks to
the many people and organisations doing amazing work for mental health:
Headstrong, Aware, Shine, Mental Health Ireland, and MetalHealthReform.ie are
just some organisations amongst many who do fantastic work in providing
support, progressing awareness, and increasing societal understanding of the
function and importance of good mental health. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Both my wife, Stef, and I believe that mental health is of
huge importance to society on every level. Headstrong, and many other organisations, do
incredible work with people suffering from mental health problems in Ireland,
and as attitudes towards mental health change so to do our attitudes towards
each other. Surely this makes everything
better for everyone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On one final note: the support that we have received so far
on our Bike Back Home journey for Headstrong and mental health has been
uplifting, to say the very least. Absolutely
everything from ‘likes’ on Facebook and Instagram photos and posts, to
donations on our mycharity.ie page have been enormously appreciated and they
all energise us more and more to get our pedal on back home to Ireland!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, a massive thanks to everyone who has helped us to support
Headstrong so far on our journey. It really means a lot to us. Only 12,000
kilometres more to go! <o:p></o:p></div>
Nick Doranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171601608203346863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535444302531972829.post-305785171170389562016-04-08T12:55:00.000+03:002016-04-16T11:26:45.215+03:00Camping in the Hexi Corridor<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So here we are in Zhangye! Nothing remarkable about the city itself, but for us it means that we are over half way through China. Initially, looking at the map at the end of a long days cycle, it could be a little disheartening. It looked like we were going nowhere. Or nowhere fast anyway (I suppose that was the point of this though!) but suddenly, here we are smack in the middle of the country with over 2600km under our belts and <i>only</i> about 2200km to go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For more detail, check this map out fully at: https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/viewer?mid=zMqh4iDlbWvc.k-3IbldAaRzc</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US">The highlight of the last few days, weeks even, was a couple of days ago when we camped for the first time. I think we both thought we'd be camping more often, especially once we left Xi'an behind, but we didn't hit the rural wilderness that we were expecting, as soon as we were expecting. This country is on the move. Building; construction; growth in all areas are first and foremost in everyone's minds it would seem. Everything seems in motion, in a state of change, in a drive for more, for bigger, for better. There are people; and therefore villages, towns and cities everywhere and camping just hadn't happened so far. Anyway on Tuesday we found ourselves in total wilderness. So much so that we didn't pass a single village all day. We did pass a truck though that had pulled in ahead of us and the two drivers were waiting to say hi to us. They can't have been much older than 20 and were some of the smiliest, happiest chaps you could ever imagine meeting. They insisted on giving us food but when we suggested all sitting down and eating together they said they had to get going. Not before giving us 11 hard boiled eggs, half a watermelon, a pear, two oranges and the biggest loaf of bread you've ever seen! Before they left I asked could I get into the truck, I wanted to see the inside of one of these beasts we've been sharing the road with all this time. Funny how such simple interactions can give you such a lift, a boost, and really help propel you along the road. That day, we went uphill. All day. For 95km. It wasn't very steep but it was relentless. These two boys were the highlight of our day, and stopping for lunch later on, taking out all the goodies they'd given us, I felt like I was deep within the pages of a Famous Five novel, all we were missing was Timmy with his 'woof' and his thumping tail.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys and their truck!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delighted with myself in the cabin!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick couldn't resist jumping in either!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just some of the tasteis that the boys offloaded onto us (the bread was a whole loaf when we got it!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxuYx5JJkyOUJtmi2uIqZsOE8iaszjO69GK54ggxBZB44aQThnY8mGqVTWIkg8EuBjPernrnMATG_nKXyRTu-M1Uy2Sqorxzik6SQhdWj7Zzg_WW_L7nBYbdcsP9QFi0WeJRbvcXjkYk/s1600/IMG_1474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxuYx5JJkyOUJtmi2uIqZsOE8iaszjO69GK54ggxBZB44aQThnY8mGqVTWIkg8EuBjPernrnMATG_nKXyRTu-M1Uy2Sqorxzik6SQhdWj7Zzg_WW_L7nBYbdcsP9QFi0WeJRbvcXjkYk/s400/IMG_1474.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping at 2600m in the Hexi Corridor, Gansu</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US">Anyway, I'm knackered and feel like going for a nap, so that's all the update you're getting from me today I'm afraid. It's actually hard to know what to write about a lot of the time. This has become our 'normal'. I'm sure there are people reading this who think we are mad and to be honest if I think of cycling from South Korea to Ireland I also think it sounds like some sort of hair-brained idea but that's not what we are doing really. We are just cycling. Everyday. And one day we'll end up at home. It's so quickly become our routine, our normal, that there really is nothing mad about it. It's our 9 to 5. The scenery changes daily, we meet different people, but so much of what we are doing is still just the simple, mundane, everyday things everyone else is doing too. That said, mundane it may be, but fascinating, eye-opening, memory-making and a whole host of other adjectives, it is too.</span></div>
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For more photo's have a quick check of our albums on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bikebackhome/">Bike Back Home</a> Facebook page as well as on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/NickJDoran/media_set?set=a.10153342077606232.615506231&type=3">personal Facebook </a>pages and if you feel so inclined please consider donating to Headstrong via <a href="http://www.mycharity.ie/event/bikebackhome">our My Charity event page</a>. We are hoping to raise €1 each for every kilometre we cycle and so far we've done just that, with over €5200 raised to date. We are always so excited to get a notification of a donation, no matter how big or small, and it really spurs us on. Keep 'em coming! </div>
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