One of the most exciting aspects about planning this trip was the chance to experience the Tibetan plateau. With such a vast expanse of mountains to explore it’s a shame that I will only get to see a tiny fraction of it. There are so many Chinese cyclists heading to Lhasa in Tibet, a trip that I would love to do as it is supposed to be a beautiful ride, but unfortunately the Chinese government won’t allow unescorted foreigners into Tibet since they began occupying the country.

The route I have chosen skirts the fringes of the Tibetan Plateau, from Shangri-La, to Litang and on to Ya-an, before dropping again to Chengdu. There are other areas of beautiful mountains to the north west of Chengdu often referred to as the Chinese Alps which I plan to explore later. If they are anything like the mountains I have experienced over the last five days then I am in for a treat. I also have about five more days riding from Litang to Ya-an to feast my eyes upon.

I had calculated about 4 days to ride from Shangrila to Litang. The profile for the ride included a number of peaks above 4000 metres, higher than anything I had ridden before. In fact it took me five long days in the saddle to reach Litang, including four nights sleeping above 4000 metres. The route was dependent upon  the weather though as it can get quite nasty at that altitude. As long as it stayed fine then I shouldn’t have a problem. I managed to find a pair of waterproof over-trousers in Shangri-La that should keep my legs warm and dry but nothing to keep my feet dry. Fingers crossed that my toes don’t suffer too much if it turns cold. Things didn’t look good at the start of the first climb when it started to rain so I took shelter under an overhanging building where I was unknowingly being watched by a couple of women in the next doorway who ushered me inside to a warm fire. It was a couple of hours later before the rain had stopped. Luckily the women ran the local shop so I was able to buy a large pot of instant noodles and eat it around the fire while smiling at everything they said without understanding a word of it.

Although the rain clouds looked like they still had more to offer up the valley the road I was following turned up a different valley where the sun was making an effort to break through. It was a long climb with an increasingly strong tail wind which didn’t bode well for the night. Just after reaching the top and with the clouds darkening the sky I came across a group of shepherds huts made out of concrete blocks with a solid roof and wooden floor. A perfect refuge for a night out. I could have used the tent but later that night I counted myself lucky that I had found the hut as during the night the wind howled and the rain lashed down onto the corrugated metal roof with such ferocity that I’m sure the tent would have fared poorly, if not being uprooted completely. Warm and dry inside the hut I smiled to myself as I waited for the noise to stop again so that I could get some sleep. The morning didn’t look too promising either, but as I was camped out in a dip between two crests I knew I only had to ride a few kilometres before I could start descending again, and as soon as I did the sun began to show itself and light up the scenery around me.

That day I had to climb another mountain with three peaks all over 4000 metres. The scenery again was spectacular, but with a stony mountain road it took a long time to cross all three peaks. Finally cresting the third peak I needed to find a place to sleep and soon found a flat space next to a forest fire look-out tower. Thinking I was alone on the mountain for the night I was surprised the next morning to round the corner about fifty metres ahead and find a truck stop. There aren’t many in the mountains so it was quite good timing as I had almost run out of water. Refilled and with an early morning warm up by the wood stove I had to climb again before descending for what seemed like forever before reaching tarmac again. The view down into the valley was spectacular. It was so nice I decided to take out my tent and sleeping bag again to air them while just sitting and admiring the view for a while.

The only town of any size marked on the map during this stage from Shangri-La to Litang provided a good stop for lunch, after which it was back on the bike and climbing hard again. Another long hot climb took its toll that afternoon as I ran low on water. Refilling a bottle from a mountain stream just in case I ran out I was fortunate to find a little village shop selling water at three times the normal price, a bargain when it’s the only water around. The heat was still taking its toll though and during another prolonged climb I reached a point where I flagged completely and decided to stop at the first opportunity. It was a lovely spot next to a stream with the last of the days sun beaming up the valley to keep me warm while I cooked dinner. Continuing the climb the next morning I reached the highest point I have yet cycled at nearly 4400 metres. Once again the sun was shining all day and the scenery was spectacular.

Another long descent and another long climb followed that day. Once again I camped at over 4000 metres. Day four brought another new high at 4708 metres. Patches of snow lined the road but nothing of any size. I was still riding in shorts, t-shirt and jacket. Not long after that I met a Chinese cyclist coming the other way. We stopped to say hello and struck up two conversations, one in English and one in Chinese. Laughing at the fact that neither of us could understand what the other was saying except the names of towns from which we were riding from and heading to, we swapped snacks as a good will gesture and set off again. It was another one of those fleeting encounters with a fellow traveler that only seem to happen in the middle of nowhere. It was also the start of the new construction taking place along that road. The next day or so was spent riding along rough roads and through a lot of dust. A dramatic descent into a typical Tibetan town brought me to the point where I had to make another decision about my route. As the sun was still shining and I was still riding in shorts and t-shirt I decided to head north to Litang instead of opting for the lower southern route that was my last get-out should the weather not be favourable.

Not far along the road I met a Swiss guy and a German couple walking toward the temple about a kilometre away. Arriving in the early afternoon we were surprised to find the temples all but deserted. There were many houses provided for the monks but they were all locked up and empty. Less than ten monks were living there. We climbed up to the old temple to take a look at the view before descending to the river where I ate lunch before ploughing my way along another dust road. I almost ran out of water again but came across one of the construction crew villages. Refilling my water bottles I also spotted the tuck shop where I bought some Coke and biscuits. That took care of my afternoon snack dilemma. One of the cooks then came out and presented me with four hard boiled eggs as a gift. Once again the spontaneous generosity of strangers has shown

One more night under canvass brought me to Litang and the worst road I had yet ridden on this trip. Although the road had been recently rebuilt it proved a nightmare for me. The surface was gravel on top of a corrugated bed, an absolute pain in the backside to ride along. Unfortunately it was about 5 kilometres long and very dusty too. Reaching Litang I noticed a lot of cyclists, one of which led me to a hostel filled with cyclists heading to Lhasa. Apparently it is a famous stopping off point on the route to Lhasa as it is at the confluence of the two roads from Chengdu and Kunming, the two setting off points for the trip that thousands of Chinese make every year. Being the only westerner there I was immediately the focus of attention and was soon sought out by anyone speaking English or in fact anyone with a camera.

Litang is very much a frontier town. You can see Tibetan style houses, clothing and facial features everywhere. In most other places traditional dress has been worn only by the women there are quite a few men here wearing it too. Even the motorbikes are decorated in a distinctive style. There is also a large but mostly unobtrusive police presence here. I’m not sure why but maybe it’s all a part of the Chinese governments attempt to assert control over a people who stick very much to their traditions. It’s an interesting place to people watch as they spend time socialising in the main street and square. You can tell they are a close knit community by the way everyone acknowledges and greets eachother. Strangely enough though I have felt self-conscious about taking photographs of people here. Despite being greeted or smiled at by many there is a difference between people dressed in a traditional style for their daily lives and those dressed up for tourists. Even though I have had my own photograph taken so many times itf

One more rest day before I set off again into the mountains, a six day jaunt towards Chengdu.

Lijiang is a nice place to hang out an enjoy the maze of streets but it's also a bit too touristy. Heading north seems the only option to get away from it all.

Leaving Lijiang behind I began the climb over the mountain to Shangri-La. Nearing the top I met a Chinese cyclist heading for Lhasa in Tibet. Speaking no English at all he communicated his incredulity at the small amount of luggage I was carrying. I looked in bemusement at his luggage carrying layout. A huge rucksack tied onto a rear pannier rack, with a tent strapped on top and a sponge sleeping roll strapped atop of that. Instead of a hand pump he was carrying a track pump that was shoved under a couple of straps. I had to stop him straight away as two of the rucksack straps were dangling dangerously close to his rear derailleur. With those tucked up safely we carried on. Reaching the top of the climb he pulled over to rearrange his luggage and to jettison some weight. Opening his rucksack he produced a carrier bag full of chocolate and sweets, a toiletry bag, a pair of trousers, a hat and a selection of items that I think came from a chemist including a bag of pampers nappies which he proceeded to open up and layer onto the top of his saddle. He didn’t have any padded cycling shorts and was obviously feeling the pain. The rest of the items listed above were discarded and passed on to a car driver. My guess was that he had just started his journey in Lijiang and had overestimated the amount of weight he could comfortably carry. I later found out that this was correct. Only by climbing your first hill do you appreciate the amount of stuff that you don’t need to carry.

As we began the descent we hit a bumpy section causing his rucksack to sag over to one side of his rack with him trying to right it while braking on a downhill bend. I must admit that I felt a bit apprehensive behind him so I pulled out and overtook him just to be safe. Luckily nothing drastic happened, but at the bottom of the hill we he wanted to turn left to Shangri-La instead of right. He didn’t believe me even though I showed him the map on my phone, preferring to check with an old man sitting on the side of the road. Only when the old man pointed to the right did he concede that the map was correct. His phone did not have a map application, nor did he carry a paper map. Luckily there are very few turnings along these valleys so hopefully he will be okay. Stopping for dinner I was treated to a proper meal once again. Instead of miming eating food, my new friend was able to order a proper meal.  The treat was seconded when he paid the bill and refused to split it or even tell me how much it was. Using his phone to translate he told me that I had come to China and therefore I was his guest. A bit strange as we had only met about thirty minutes before. This is becoming a bit of a habit. Maybe I should find a Chinese cyclist every time I feel hungry. Not far up the road we met a group of 8 other Chinese cyclists all heading for Lhasa too. My journey that day was going to end at Tiger Leaping gorge, about 20kms further on, so I felt better knowing that my dinner partner would have some company as he didn’t seem too well prepared for such a journey.

As we approached my turn off for Tiger leaping gorge the clouds began to shake themselves free of some of the water that they were holding. It didn’t bode well for a trekking route that is an arduous 24kms long. Starting the climb up a farm track the trekking route didn’t seem too inspiring to start with, although that soon changed when the clouds parted again and bathed the mountainside with sunlight. The path gains height quickly as it winds its way along the gorge. If you thought that the Grand Canyon is deep you should see this gorge. From its highest point to the water level it is about three times the depth of the Grand Canyon. And some of the mountains have snow on them all year round. In fact this is the first Himalayan snow that I have seen so far. Nearing dusk I stopped for the night in a guest house conveniently placed on the trekking route. As with most of the houses here it is based around a courtyard giving it a homely feel. The food was delicious and the sunset spectacular.

The next morning I awoke to the sound of a Cuckoo, a common sound in China. Throughout the rest of Asia it has been Cockerels that have been waking me, mostly in the middle of the night. The rest of the day went without hitch although it was an arduous trek to say the least. Luckily there was plenty of opportunity to stop and take photographs, even to stop and just admire the view for five minutes or so. By the end of the day my feet were aching enough for me to decide to stay the night at the end of the gorge where I had left my bike the night before. After a good nights rest I continued up the valley meeting quite a few cyclists along the way. First was a guy from Hong Kong and two Taiwanese, heading north. Next were six Chinese heading to Lhasa who I rode with for a couple of hours. Thankfully they were overloaded with food and water. I had half expected there to be a variety of eating places along the route as in most of Asia, but they were few and far between today. After a couple of climbs I had to press on though as I was waiting almost as long at the top for tail-enders as I had spent on the climb itself. With a round of handshakes and waves I set off again.

Not long after I met another seven Chinese cyclists about ten kms from Shangri-La, again heading for Lhasa. Riding into town with them we ended up at a cheap hotel which was almost full, but the owner decided she would let me stay for free as I was sharing the room with two of the guys and using my airbed on the floor. Collecting the identity cards of the Chinese cyclists she declined my passport, which was unusual as she is supposed to register my presence with the police. Maybe she just couldn’t be bothered but it was to cause a lot of problems later.

One of my first jobs the next day was to renew my visa. I came into China with a thirty day visa which can be extended twice for a further thirty days each time. First to the police station where I told them the hotel I was staying at and was given a piece of paper to take to the PSB, the Public Security Bureau. Here I had to fill in a form, hand over a photo and was told to come back the next day to collect my passport, unusually fast for a PSB office. On return to the hotel I was met at the front door by the mother of the owner who was not happy. Luckily the one person who could translate for me had accompanied me to the police station. It turns out that the owner is going to be fined 2000 Yuan for failing to register me with the police when I arrived. The police had contacted the hotel after I had left them to ask why I had not been registered with them when I arrived. If she doesn’t pay she will be closed down for three months. The mood amongst the cycling group was not happy as the owner was blaming me. On the other hand they also feel emotionally for her which I can understand. They say that they need to find a solution to this problem and that we should pay the fine or at least a part of it. It’s the equivalent of about £220.

The owner then came back and continued where her mother left off. Listening but understanding none of it I was left on the side-lines until she had left. I didn’t get a full explanation; instead I was told that they feel they are in the wrong as she was being kind-hearted enough to let me stay for nothing. I, on the other hand, felt that she neglected to fulfil her legal requirement and that the fault lay entirely with her regardless of how little or how much I was paying. After all I had offered her my passport but it had been declined. Everywhere else in Asia my passport has been the first thing that has been asked for when I stayed overnight.

With half of the group out for dinner we discussed what to do and where to lay the blame. It was unanimous that the hotel owner was at fault but everyone including myself felt sorry for her and for the situation. As all of the group were students they could not afford to pay the fine. No matter how much I told them that it was not their fine to pay they still felt that we should do something to help. I was in two minds as their suggestion was that they as a group should pay a third, I should pay a third and the hotel owner should pay a third, about £75 each way. In the end we contributed a smaller amount but the situation had definitely soured the good feeling within the group, despite being none of their fault or responsibility. Early the next morning we set off for a ride to the first hill where I left them at the view point to continue to Lhasa before turning back and doing a circuit of the lake and grasslands surrounding Shangri-La. The good feeling of the group had returned by this point and it was with good hearts and hugs that we parted.

Lijiang is another of those cities that has grown and expanded enormously over the last few years, yet it is the old town that draws people here. I arrived in the late afternoon and headed for the old town and Mama Naxis' restaurant to meet a French woman who I had met through the couchsurfing website and had agreed to host me for my stay while I was in town. Heading for the old town was easy enough as it was signposted from just about every road junction that I passed. It was another thing entirely pushing my bike through the old town trying to find the restaurant. The old town is made up of stream lined streets lined with restaurants and tourist oriented shops with alleyways, courtyards and side streets, each worthy of a photograph or even a whole photo album of their own.

Anne had sent me a text with the name of the restaurant in Chinese for me to show to people in order to find my way. Showing them the phone and following their pointed directions finally led me to Mama Naxis where I met Anne as well as another French couple and an Israeli couple, all brought together via couchsurfers. We ate a traditional Naxi meal of about 6 dishes together before heading off to a bar to finish off the evening. I was to spend the next two days with Alex and Mika, the French couple as we chilled out first in Lijiang and then in Bai Sha, a small town about 8km north.

My first impressions of Lijiang were of picturesque streets scenes that would do Disney proud. Stone streets lined with willow trees weeping over streams, small arched bridges linking streets and alleys that twisted and turned as well as climbed all over the place. About thirty minutes later I had to put away the camera as I was just fed up of taking photographs. Every street and every building is a prime candidate for a picture.

There's not must else to say about my time in Lijiang. I shall just leave you with some more pictures.

Sometimes it's just not easy to get off the beaten track. It has, in places, become so wide that there's nowhere left to roam. South east Asia is becoming such a place. Wherever I end up there is usually a guest house or hotel where I can lay my head, although they can be hard to find at times.
I brought my tent intending to get so far off the beaten track that it would just be me, the bike and the wilderness. China is finally providing such solitude. If only I had not been so stubborn I would have popped that cherry by now.

left Dali heading south then west, instead of north as previously intended. I was doing a circuit of the mountains that lie to the west of Dali, taking a route suggested to me by one of the bike shop owners. A scenic route that they use on their own tours. At first I couldn't understand why. A narrow valley with nothing except the road, a new expressway on the other side of the river and industrial outlets. It wasn't until I turned out of this valley and headed north that I understood.
As I rode further up the valley the scenery became better, the road quieter and the peace more encompassing. It was a long climb before I could relax though. Not very steep, but definitely long.
As I rode I gauged the distances between shops and eateries. This was becoming an extremely rural area with little or no shopping opportunities. Making sure I had enough food inside me and enough water to see me through was more to the front of my mind than it has been at any time in this trip. Filling up before I became hungry or thirsty is the only way to be sure of making it to the next pit stop. Needless to say I made the most of every opportunity to stop and fill up.

The first stop was in a small town having its market day. Everyone was out in force buying and selling. People were loading sacks of grain or rice onto the back of scooters with the pillion sitting on the top of it in some cases. Pigs were being led along the street, perhaps looking for a buyer. A lovely bowl of noodle soup that cost less than 60 pence filled the hole for a while.

Later in the day I was looking at the riverbed that the road had followed for most of the way up the valley and considering camping for the night. I haven't actually wild camped on this trip, but this area was providing some beautiful riverside camping spots. All I needed was some food before I settled down for the night. Pulling into a small town on the side of the road I disturbed a class of children dancing outside the police station. It was their twice weekly dance excersize, led by one of the local kindergarden teachers. I hadn't meant to disrupt the class but a westerner rolling into town on a bicycle probably won't happen again for many years and the children were practicing the only English word that most of them knew. Hello.

The class was soon over and one of the women watching turned out to be a teacher who spoke good English. Asking her for somewhere to eat she motioned to the woman taking the dancing class. Her sister owns the local guest house/restaurant so it felt only right to follow her there. Dismissing her sister, the dancing teacher made me a lovey meal and insisted that I was a guest and therefore not allowed to pay. My interpreter told me that she also wanted to show me her parents farm just a few minutes walk away where I could pick fruit straight off the trees. As I had been shown such generosity it seemed only right to take a short walk with the two women. One pointing, one interpreting. When we got to the farm I was introduced to the parents of the dancing teacher and shown around the farm house and courtyard. I'm not sure about the custom in this country, but after feeding me, showing me her home and introducing me to her parents I may now be engaged to be married !
Considering the free meal and fruit I felt bound to forgo the camping and to take up the offer of a bed for the night in the guest house. A huge room with two double beds, bathroom, TV, dining table and chairs etc for just £4. Not too shabby.

The next morning I continued along the valley gaining height slowly but surely with scenery that was even better than the day before. An amazing omelette for lunch and I began the climb that would take me over the mountain. Or it would have if it didn't drop down to the river again first before resuming its long ascent. I had been told that the road was half tarmac and half stone but I was beginning to doubt this as the only sections of stone were about 20 metres long compared to 4 to 5 kilometres of tarmac between them. It was only as the sun was nearing the horizon that the stones took over for good and I began wondering about stopping for the night.
I had been passing plenty of camping spots along the roadside but decided to press on to the summit. It's nicer to start the day from a high point but the sun was setting and the darkness was soon going to be a problem. At 9pm and 3000 metres it was still warm enough to be wearing just shorts and t-shirt and I was wondering how much further I would have to go before reaching the top. At this point a Chinese couple with a pick up truck came up the mountain and pulled over about 100 metres ahead of me. They both got out and beckoned me to stop. Neither of us spoke a language the other could understand so it was with hand gestures and smiles that they pointed out the ominously dark clouds and the long distance left to the top. I didn't mind too much as I had been looking forward to a night in the tent on the mountain but the wind had also been picking up and I have learned to trust this as a good sign of rain to come, so it was with a mixture of gratitude and resignation that I accepted their lift. I thought they were going to drop me at the top of the mountain which would have taken me more than another hour to reach but continued down the other side which was also a stone track but much worse than the one I had been climbing.

Reaching the bottom of the mountain again we turned left which I knew to be the wrong way for me. Insisting that I should stay with them they continued on to a village a few kilometres ahead which I assumed was where they lived, but no they were just checking the lambs in the back of the pickup that had been moved to accommodate my bike. It was at this point that I began to wonder where we were going. My map showed us heading north west where I in fact wanted to head east. Don't worry were the signals I was getting. Luckily there was a new expressway that my map didn't show, and in fact didn't look as if it were finished yet. We drove down that and came to a junction about 20 km from Shaxi, the town that I told them I was heading for. A circuitous route but one that no doubt missed a lot of climbing and turns. The time was now 11.30 and I had been in the van for about two and a half hours. Pointing me in the direction of Shaxi they drove off waving and smiling, as I did the same on my bike heading the opposite direction from them. I didn't have to go far before I found a suitable place to plant my tent and settled down to what I thought would be a good nights sleep. Unfortunately I had chosen to camp alongside the access road to the local brick factory which begin work at about 5 am. So much for my stubbornness to keep going to the top of the mountain. The clouds had cleared and the sky was lit with a million stars (not that I counted them all). If only I had pitched my tent sooner I could be on the mountain instead of alongside a factory access road and with nothing around me but peace and quiet. I was kicking myself all night for not turning down the offer of a ride.

May as well get up early then and ride to Shaxi I thought. As I got to the town there was a weekly market in full swing. There didn't seem much to the town to recommend it though. Admittedly the market was big and interesting, spreading along 4 or 5 streets as well as filling two squares but I still couldn't figure out how this was on the tourist trail. It wasn't until I turned down a side street lined with trees and a stream that I could see what people come here for.

As well as a market there was also a festival going on. It was a childrens festival and all of the children were dressed and made up to dance. The girls outnumbered the boys by about 4 : 1 and were split into four groups each dressed differently. Unfortunately my camera battery chose that moment to run down so I couldn't get many pictures of them dancing. Everybody was having fun though so I just watched from the sidelines and put up with the parents taking photos of me as well as their children. As it was such a nice day and the town had such a nice atmosphere I decided to stay overnight and chose a hostel to stay in where I met a Chinese student who spoke good English and three of his female friends who I nicknamed Pinky, Lily and Hippy. We all ate together with the family who ran the hostel which is a common occurrence here, one that I particularly enjoyed because it meant that I didn't have to try and order for myself. Not something that I am very good at here in China. Retracing my route for 20 kms the next morning and continued my way towards Lijiang, a sister tourist town to Dali that is recommended by the tourist guides.

My stubbornness may have cost me the opportunity to camp on the mountain but then again, if I did camp on the mountain I wouldn't have made it to Shaxi in time for the market or to see the childrens festival. There are going to be plenty more opportunities to camp on mountains in the next few weeks though so it's not too much of a loss. And those mountains are starting to look very big too. Looks like there is going to be snow involved. Can't wait to see some alpine style meadows.

Dali, new and old combined.
Rebuilt exactly as it was after an earthquake in 1999, even down to channeling the stream down the street and digging the well.
It just goes to show what can be achieved in an authoritarian state when minds are made up.

There's no need for me to write a great deal about the town as it's just a tourist mecca of quaint buildings and souvenir shops etc.
But, it does have a nice feel to it. One of my friends said that he and his girlfriend went there for two days and stayed two weeks. Another said that he went for 3 days and stayed for a month.
I'm not sure it would have that much of an effect upon me though. I stayed for 3 nights and walked around town, eating at street cafes and making a new pen pal of an English major student selling cakes to tourists!

Originally bounded on all four sides by a city wall with heavily fortified gates, there remains only a small section that is recognisable. It must once have been an impressive town to enter with the walls about 10 metres wide. 

I met a young American called Max in the hostel and we decided to take a hike up the mountain to the west of Dali. Setting off early to avoid the heat we tramped up countless stairs that zigzagged their way up through the trees until we reached the "cloud path". This path wound its way around the mountain into valleys and across bridges for about 8 or 9 miles. We had intended to catch the cable car from the cloud path to the top of the mountain but the map we had been given showed the car to the north when it is actually to the south. Therefore we ended up walking the entire length of the path, passing just one walker coming the other way. The scenery and the views were spectacular and although my legs were aching like they have never done before the walk was fantastic.

Back to Dali for an evening eating at a street cafe, which was little more than an oversized kitchen run by an old couple who sat outside waiting for us to finish before clearing away the dishes and closing up for the night.

With so much to see but nothing much to write about I am keeping this blog post short and sweet. Dali has a very pleasant feel to the town even if it is overrun by domestic tourists coming to see the Bai and Yi minorities at work. From here I am going to ride around the mountain to the west of the city and then head north to Lijiang. Another tourist hotspot but from what I have heard even more worth the trek. It's going to be a lot of climbing to get there by the route I am taking, so off for an early night now. Bye