Shaken and stirred

Well here we are in China. It's finally sinking in the scale of the journey we are on and that we've driven here all the way from London. Suddenly everything has become much more alien and unfamiliar. China is where all the creature comforts you know disappear, not needing to rely on and import branded goods, they simply make their own, from Cola, Red Bull, Oreo cookies to Mars bars and even Minis (cars), they have their own lookalike tastalike versions manufactured in the country.

Finding your way in China

The border crossing was the most long and drawn out so far, the pouring rain collecting in vast pools in front of immigration not helping, wading through with bags to be scanned for a second time and then waiting to find out what the next stage would be in the process. It was here we were joined by our local guide George who will be with us for the time we are in China. He eagerly awaited us at the border prepared with his trademark bum bag and umbrella. Once we were through all the formalities we'd hoped for an easy couple of hours drive into Kashgar but suddenly a line of trucks queued ahead, snaking around the steep mud cliffs laced with great cracks looking ready to fall at any time and further block the road. Our hold up was not a landslide but a river flowing down from the mountains and washing over the road, diggers worked furiously to try and stem the flow of water underneath the drain rather than over the top. A short while later traffic moved in our direction and we managed to pass through and arrived into Kashgar late in the evening.

Diggers getting stuck at the China border

Three nights in Kashgar gave everyone the chance to catch up on laundry, emails home, diary writing and for the crew to put Calypso through a Chinese MOT and get local driving licenses. We said goodbye to Cindy here for a month (just remembering to give her passport back in time), having seen much of China, she decided to head off to explore India and will rejoin us in Laos. Most ventured out to find the Sunday market, a sprawling undercover and surprisingly clean complex with everything imaginable for sale. Gaudy fridges, clothes, enough sellotape to wrap around the world 5 times, motorised scooters, Chinese herbal medicine including hedgehogs and snake skins. A small group of us struggling to find our way without a map decided a ride on a big old rusty ferris wheel would help locate it from above, which it did, and also nearly made a grown man cry with fear... If that wasn't enough the taxi back to the hotel was a ride in a small electronic cargo trike, more used to transporting watermelons, truck tyres or nuts and bolts than tourists, weaving in and out of the busy traffic, leaning into the corners, we made it safely back, with the addition of a few grey hairs.

Congratulations Rogan and Helen on getting their Chinese drivers licences (and Calypso's new Chinese numberplate)

Ferris wheel, Kashgar-style

Nick wasn't loving it so much...

Kashgar from the air

Keeping cool on the road - check out the innovative airconditioning, works even in traffic jams

Nick and his fans....  ba boom tish

Nick, Ryan and Rogan enjoying a taxi ride back to the hotel

Novel approach to construction

The old city of Kashgar, penned in by the new

Slow day in the market

Snake skins, anyone?

Food shopping and dining out will be an experience from here on and Kashgar was no exception, hidden away through a small entrance leading down to a vast underground supermarket, there didn't seem to be a chopped tinned tomatoes section, cheese counter, or bakery, predominantly rows and rows of noodles instead. This is just the beginning of the great food education on what parts of animals you can actually eat, that in the West we discard without further thought.

Delicious duck

Anyone for MSG?

Oi Oi Saveloy

Pigs trotters

Vacuum packed snacks

A two day 1,400km crossing of the scorching Taklamakan desert followed, Taklmakan meaning the place you go into and don't come out of, clearly we have as you're reading this, but we did come close to being swallowed up by it. At around 5am we were stirred from sleep at our bushcamp when the earth moved beneath us. Julia thought Jim was convulsing next to her, Di convinced Pip it was some cows passing through, Cher thought it was a dust storm, Chris put it down to wind and Rogs thought A: it was someone jumping about on the truck in an ill-advised attempt to interrupt the crew's sleep or B: cook group were up early having not set their alarm clocks to Beijing time, 2 hours ahead, and were attempting to pull the cooker out causing the truck to rock and sway, he leapt down from the roof ready to throw hot oil on and berate whoever was disturbing his sleep (not really, but the thought probably crossed his mind). Others managed to sleep through it completely, but it was most definitely an earthquake and a fairly substantial shake at that. A crack in the ground alongside the truck had appeared, well it was there the day before, but was now perhaps a little wider. If only Zaza, our local guide from Georgia had been with us he surely would have seen the signs and predicted the quake, often making some warning of imminent natural disaster or attack at our Georgian bush camps, flash floods, wolves, bears, snow and landslides, thankfully none of which came to pass. The news later confirmed the epicentre of the earthquake was in a mouintanous region of Xinjiang province and recorded at 6.6 on the Richter scale.

Earthquake fault-line in our bushcamp

Onward to Turpan, the second-lowest depression in the world at 154m below sea level, the Death Valley of China, with the highest recorded temperature of 49.6 degrees Celsius, we were blessed with an overcast drizzly day keeping temperatures well below this for our arrival. It steadily rose whilst we were there and afternoons were best spent in the shade of the hotel underneath trellises laden with grape vines, venturing out later in the evening to find the night market and some tasty local food. Some visited the interesting (and cool) Karez irrigation channels, a feat of engineering some 2,000 years old. Deep vertical shafts were dug into the water table and then channelled underground from the hills to the farmland making a habitable oasis in the desert.

Chris keeping cool in Turpan

Exploring Karez

John's Cafe, THE place to hangout in Turpan

Not sure John's going to win this one...

Dumplings at the night market

Ryan, John, Shelagh and Rogan practising their chopstick skills

Gareth's new look

Shady vine-covered street in Turpan

After Turpan we hit the desert road again, miles and miles of endless desert with occasional toll booths and service stations, the pale blue crash barriers lining the road turning to water in the mirage ahead. Trucks hammering past and now and then a few stalls by the side of the road selling nothing but melons, stopping for lunch under a bridge, the only shade for hundreds of kilometres. Managing to cover around 600km it was time to look for a gap in the fence so we could pull off the road and find a bush camp, which we successfully did. In previous trips China has never been easy for bush camping, but happily we managed to find a great place to stop for the evening, cook some lovely grub and enjoy one of our final nights under canvas. Bush camping is one of the highlights of these types of trip and it's a shame to be moving on to more the hotel side of things now, who knows, we might be able to squeeze a few more bushcamps in.

Bushcamp sunrise

Bushcamp sunset

Betsy

Gill and Rowan, up to something?

Chris and Jody

Moonlit camp

The final couple of hundred kilometres were slightly more bumpy than the previous section but we made it to Dunhuang in time for lunch. Passing an impressive wind farm en route we held a quick competition to make up a collective term for the turbines. Some creative suggestions from the group but we decided to go with Nick's “revolution of wind turbines”. Jeff a close second with “a flock of a lot of turbines”. Others were a bit less suitable for publishing!

Desert road to Dunhuang

We enjoyed our first taste of Buddhist art, starting off with one of the biggest collections in the world at the Mogao Caves, located on the Eastern slope of Rattling Sand Mountain. A system of 492 temples with Buddhist art spanning 1,000 years, the first caves being dug around 366 AD as places of Buddhist meditation and worship. The big buddha being the most impressive, housed in a nine storey building and standing at 34m high there were gasps as we entered and craned our necks to look up at it. By no means the biggest Buddha we will see on this trip, but not a bad start!

Mogao Caves

A couple of nights here in Dunhuang for further exploration, another exotic night market and a birthday. Bye for now.

  A friendly welcome at our hotel in Dunhuang again this year!

Bushcamping Bonanza

We last left you on a cliff hanger in Bishkek with Nick and his police encounter. Turned out poor guy hadn't done anything wrong, had been on his way to the bank and then promptly frog marched back to the hotel. The light fingered coppers had somehow managed to Derren Brown £60 from his wallet. Bishkek does suffer from slightly dark undertones, particularly at night. No real harm done and a beer and game of pool volleyball in the lovely hotel pool helped to cool things down.

German beer hall in Bishkek

Pool volleyball in Bishkek

Which way?

We've arrived in China against all odds via the Torguart Pass, renowned for being Asia's most unpredictable border crossing, involving 6 check points over 150km of roads prone to landslides and flooding. The goal posts change every year seemingly at the official's whim. This year we were allowed to keep our peanut butter, it was the firewood they were after, and we had to pay for the pleasure of them taking it away. Perhaps someone was planning a BBQ that evening.

Bushcamp enroute to the China border

The road to China...

More on China in the next blog, but first, back to Kyrgyzstan, where we have spent the last 10 days out in the wilds having a splendid time, with very few showers and no wifi, hence the delay in news. Eagle hunting, lake swimming, horse and donkey riding, truck cleaning, felt buying, yurt staying, killing each other and playing in the mud with Calypso.

Our first stop was a night by Lake Issyk-Kol, the second largest alpine lake in the world, after Lake Titicaca in South America. Over 170km long and 70km across the lake is surprisingly warm, a combination of extreme depth, thermal activity and mild salinity. We headed around the south side and turning off the road onto a track we trundled towards the lake edge and found the perfect spot, a section of private beach and plenty of room to spread out and pitch tents. Some had a refreshing swim in the lake looking up at the snow capped mountains. There was ample firewood around so Jim and Mikkel, on fire duty, gathered wood from all around and built a bonfire worthy of Guy Fawkes. Mars bar vodka was cooked up as a fireside treat, it was also a good chance to finish off the Georgian cha cha, some struggling to stomach it so instead turning flame thrower and adding fuel to the fire. 

Lake Issyk Kul bushcamp

Not a bad view to wake up to!

Rowan & Pip take a swim in the lake

Jim & Mikkel making the fire

John gathering wood

Mikkel and the Mars Bar vodka

Making the vodka, Mikkel & Rogan

It also seemed about time in the trip when people feel like killing each other, so it was here that we started off a game of Murder on The Truck. A bit like Cluedo but with real truck life victims, weapons and locations. Murder was rife on the first night with plenty of people falling victim to weapons like mops and head torches.

Shelagh, a breakfast victim...  who was to blame?

On our way further round the lake we stopped off and met a local Kyrgyz man and his 9 year old golden eagle, trained from birth to be his hunting companion. Everyone had a chance to hold the majestic bird. Then the cute fluffy rabbit with big dewey eyes was brought out. The eagle owner placed the bunny on the dusty ground where he hopped around happily, he then climbed a hill and released the bird. The group looked on in horror on as the bird took off and soared above the bunny “Run bunny run!” they shouted. The bird took aim and swooped down, the bunny darted left and right narrowly escaping capture from the eagles sharp talons. That was a close shave. Asked if we wanted to see it have another go there was a resounding no! Bunny 1 Eagle 0.

The Eagle hunter and his eagle

Cindy's close shave!

Nick

Mikkel, and his biggest catch to date

The lucky bunny!

Rowan and the lucky bunny!

We then spent three nights up in Jeti-Oguz national park, the entrance guarded by red sandstone cliffs called the seven bulls after seven calves who grew big and strong in the fertile pastures. Accessed by some precarious log bridges we were greeted with tall fir trees, glacial melt rivers, sunshine, wild flowers and abundant hiking opportunities. The group hiked to a waterfall one day and made friends with some locals who'd arrived for the day, overloading family and friends into the back of a truck, Lada or two, and bringing a lamb with them. Then generously invited the whole group over to join them for afternoon tea and a taste of the mutton. With only a few words of Kyrgyz and Russian between us there was a considerable language barrier, it was sign language, smiles, games, music and dancing resulting in a cracking afternoon. Everything was dragged out, the unicycle, vodka, frisbee, football, cha cha, volleyball and even the Mars bar vodka.

The seven bulls

Calypso crossing the bridges

Braving the bridge

Walking the plank(s)

Picnic, Kyrgyz style

Picnic games

Shelagh & Pip hiking in the gorge

Jeti Oguz yurts

The next day some went horse riding, although a shortage of horses meant a young girl riding past was persuaded to dismount for a few hours and sit at camp whilst we enjoyed her horse, looking slightly agitated as the hours went past, they eventually returned and off she galloped with her pails of mares milk. Enough relaxing, it was time for one of those truck parties (aka truck clean) so everyone set about giving Calypso a spring clean, feverishly cleaning pots and pans, knives and forks, windows and tables. Di picked out the coveted role of DJ and bar, choosing the tunes and keeping everyone in good spirits, and set up a novel river bar, sinking a crate into the cool river keeping the drinks chilled. It must have been Di's day as later on as one of the last remaining murderers alive, she managed to claim the final victim and be victorious, murdering Nick with a piece of stale bread at the library, having carried it in her pocket for days.

Laura, Di and Betsy head off on horses

Di and her ingenious bar fridge

Chris on spoons duty

Ryan & G Rod on window cleaning duty

You missed a bit!

Heading back to civilisation for a night in Kochkor we split the group amongst four different houses for a night's homestay, giving us a chance to see how much felt the locals have in their own homes, it's impressive. The bathroom facilities varying, one house were lucky enough to have a sauna! The following morning we enjoyed a visit to a small women's co-operative making felt products. Requiring volunteers to dance on the rolled up damp felt to seal the design, G-Rod had the moves, and stepped up to the felt to gave it a good pounding. Obligatory shopping afterwards and a goodly amount of felt now fills the truck.

G Rod and Gill assisting in the felt-making process

Chris dancing on the felt

Rolling the felt

Kyrgyz art and felt

Traditional felt hat

We then drove to the spectacular Lake Song Kul, 3,030m up exciting, steep, narrow and cliff hugging roads, a road only attempted by the adventurous few. Once over the pass we headed across the expansive fertile plateau crossing rivers and bouncing along dirt tracks. The lake only being accessible for 3 months of the year due to the amount of snow but revealing fertile grazing land in the summer, the reason the nomadic Kyrgyz move their yurts and cattle up there for the warmer months. It still felt pretty chilly to us so a large contingent upgraded to some community yurts and were scarcely seen for two days. A delicious warming roast lamb was served up for Sunday lunch with all the trimmings, including mint sauce all the way from England.

Galloping horses alongside the road to Song Kul

Helping out

The road to Song Kul

Yurts, the lake and mountains at Song Kul

Lamb legs on the fire

Roast lamb - Jeff and Jim on carving duty

Mikkel causing mayhem on the donkey

Mikkel swapped a banana for a donkey ride!

Nick's tent...

The storm's coming - Jim and Mikkel hurry back with the water

The Kyrgyz men love a good game of polo and were delighted to get together and put on a game for us. Only they have an alternative playing piece of a goat carcass, freshly slaughtered for those with stomach enough to watch. An exhilarating game commenced with two younger men versus two elders. They galloped across and hung off the saddle to haul the carcass up, then attempted to get to the other end of the pitch without the beast being wrestled from them, the team-mate blocking and nudging the opponent out of the way. Eventually a point is scored when the carcass is thrown down on the goal, a square felt mat. It's a wonder the carcass wasn't totally torn apart on the pitch. Meanwhile the women are cooking up the head and awaiting the rest of the tenderised meat once the men have finished playing. The playing field being loosely marked out so at times the players careered towards the spectators who scattered shrieking, not knowing which way they would turn next. The end score was 3-1 to the younger men. A wonderful traditional game to watch and be a part of.

The goat's last moments

Goat polo

Kid looks delighted!

Checking the weight of the carcass

We attempted to leave Song Kul the next morning, but having rained heavily over night, the muddy hills were more difficult to get out of than they were to get in. The back wheels started spinning and the truck sliding meaning roll backs and tackling a different route, cutting up the grass on the hillside. Finally one section got the better of us and we weren't going anywhere. Sand mats are great things to have on the truck but are just that, sand mats. Not specifically designed for mud. Over a couple of hours we tried everything we could think of, digging, shovelling, collecting stones and gravel and throwing them in the ever deepening hole we were digging ourselves into. Eventually we got a rope off the roof and used man power to pull the truck out, tug of war style. Once we were out and moving Jeff had volunteered to run ahead with the tow rope so it didn't get tangled under the truck, hilariously looking as if he were taking a pet for a run, not accounting for the altitude we were at, it wasn't long before Jeff's lungs were burning and we had to stop in the mud again. Thankfully only for a few minutes this time, we collectively held our breath on the last few hills and river crossings before hitting the main track again to cheers. The clay like mud had taken its toll and worked its way into the brakes on one side so before descending the mountain pass we whipped off the wheel and drum and gave it a good clean. Everything being tickety-boo we drove on for a further 10 hours on some terrible roads, more mountain passes, through pouring rain, reversing to pick up a spare spring that had broken free from its mounting along the way, and at last reached a stunning bush camp for the night, hidden up in the hills, surrounded by snow-capped peaks, a fitting end to our time in Kyrgyzstan, just 20km shy of the first border checkpoint.

Oops, stuck!

Still stuck...

Run, Jeff, run!

Tug-o-war, overlanding style!

Nick and Rogan demonstrate a novel way of straightening sandmats!

Even if you can't take 6 months out and join us on this epic adventure, or 3 months to join Odyssey on an expedition from Kathmandu to Istanbul or Beijing to Istanbul, Kyrgyzstan is absolutely worth putting on the bucket list and using your annual leave for. The adventure continues through China over the next month. Wish you were here!

Fantastic torch graffiti