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Published: November 10th 2006
Zhongdian
Are these hay drying racks or some elaborate Tibetan defence system?Where were we?
On the bus heading north from Tiger Leaping Gorge...
Well we passed a heap of tibetan picturesque mountain scenery complete with Nunny's favourite thing - Yaks - plus a host of colourfully dressed locals working in the fields amongst huge drying racks for hay and corn and other assorted crops. The occasional stupa adorned with Tibetan prayer flags (similar to the bunting outside car dealerships) now dotted the landscape. Pulling into Zhongdian a few hours later, we hopped a taxi with some German blokes to the old town, about 4km away from where the bus drops you off.
Zhongdian is a very long narrow town complete with old and new towns similar to the cities of Dali and Lijiang - while the new town isn't much to rave about, the old town is undergoing large scale renovations to keep up with the tourism boom and amidst the construction is a quaint little collection of narrow cobblestone laneways littered with shops selling local handicrafts, bars and cafes and the random historic house that survived the earthquake. The occasional butcher would display dried Yak (not the kind found on the night buses) and some freaky looking skulls
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The Leftovers of the Tibetan Breakfast outside their shops, which had a stange habit of attracting snap-happy tourists only for them to ponder what would be on their dinner plate that night.
We found a little hostel called Dragon Cloud on the brink of old town far enough away from the jackhammers and worksites to ensure a peaceful night's sleep, plus they even had electric blankets which were becoming a must since the evenings would often drop to sub-zero temperatures. It had a courtyard complete with greenery, a pool table and a large pile of wood that powered the fire around the clock. Inside was a communal sitting area where you could escape the chill at the bar or watching endless DVDs, complete with an abundance of domestic animal life. A cool little place.
We ventured out on the first night for some traditional Tibetan grub - complete with momo's and Yak meat - which Andrew didn't even hesitate to try (yes kids, perhaps Yak-eater will one day make a return to the glitz and glamour of the Rock Scissor Paper circuit). Its kind of like beef on steroids (for you carny's out there, Mont) but a lot richer in taste than the old
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Ricko demonstrates how good Napa Lake was... (Photo props courtesy of poo-lady) moo cow. We were entertained by a funny little man who did a little dance and played his drums while we ate - all for a small donation including the rest of my beer - a dry throat from singing you see...
The next day we woke late and ventured out on the town in search of some bikes. Nunny recounting recent memories of the ride around the Erhai lake in Dali, insisted upon some comfortable seating for the voyage so our brief search for some bikes turned into a rather large scale reconnaissance. Unsuccessful in locating a 'girls' bike (complete with spokey dokeys and streamers off the handlebars) we opted instead for the 'made in China' variety of mountain bike complete with dodgy suspension, a rather vertically challenged seat height and a wobbly back tyre to boot!
Setting off in the heat of the midday sun we climbed into the nearby mountains in search of Napa Lake - supposedly a lake and supposedly an ornithologists delight (and you know how I appreciate a good looking bird 😊. A steady climb with some ancient pieces of machinery rattling past startlingly close to the handlebars, almost resulted in Nunny
Zhongdian
Nunny and Ricko demonstrate the expanse of space in the middle of Napa Lake giving up the ghost - the memories of singing '99 bottles of beer' still fresh... but 50 more metres saw us reach the top of the hill and it was all downhill from there - pity we had no brakes.
Suffice to say we made it without incident and pottered along a dirt road to the entrance to the 'lake'. From the approach, our extra sensory perception told us that there was nothing but a paddock full of yaks out there, but we were swayed by the promotional girls on the oversized view-obstructing gate who showed us the tickets with beautiful blue water and about a thousand birds for the seemingly bargain price of 30Y. Oh well we've ridden all this way - better check it out. Surprisingly enough entry to the 'lake' reinforced our initial suspicions when we realised that despite a lack of water and birds we had essentailly paid for the opportunity to fork out another 30Y for a horseride to the other side of the lake or for the opportunity to mount a wild yak and have a photo taken for only 50Y (I begged and pleaded Christophe, but to no avail) We were told
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On ya 'Made in China' bike Nunny! again that the trusty undersized and overworked steeds (note:mules) would take us to where there was water and and abundance of rare water birds. Sure mate - I'd break your horse before it found any water.
Opting instead to walk across the immense paddock (for free) we were approached by a woman who had a fantastic job of piling the yak dung into mounds, no doubt for the aesthetic effect it had on the landscape (She will be herein referred to as Poo-Lady), she tried to bolster her income by suggesting we take a horse, but we pointed at moer poo that needed piling up and she quickly left us alone. Walking for about a km into the middle of the lake we still had not discovered any water or birds but found a large marble sign which we assume could only indicate the depth of the lake at 0m. So instead we took some foolish photos 😊
Back to base and back on the bikes to notice a tour bus full of Chinese about to witness the same spectacle that astounded us - Suckers! We made it back to the main road which was deserted and were
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The locals line the streets as the tour de force makes its way through the village trying to flag down one of the dusty old trucks to give us a lift back up the hill and into town, when in true Clint Eastwood style - a Western man emerged from the haze on the road, slinging a camera. 'Anything else worth seeing round here mate?', we asked the apparition. He pointed us East down a dusty road promising us friendly locals, a temple and a flat route back to Zhongdian. Gold my friend, pure gold! And thanking him we left him to roam the dusty highway - shootin' landscapes and wild beasts.
It wasn't long before we found some villagers, who looked up from their hay collection, poo collection, weaving or ploughing to have a sly chuckle at our expense - clearly directed at our pitiful attempts to ride dodgy undersized bikes across some challenging terrain. Even the yaks were mesmerised as they stood by their prized piles of dung - the result of more hard yakka (ha get it? 😊 from the poo-lady - and watched our hapless progress. The fearless beasts even blocked our paths at times - not sure whether intending a challenge, just downright lazy or purely out of curiousity -
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A fine yak specimen - a bargain at 50Y a ride... we were forced to ride dangerously close to them, and Nunny was wearing those tantalising red shoes...
Suffice to say we found some pretty cool villages off the tourist circuit, with kids that would chase us down the main street, trying to make that cool motorbike sound (that in my childhood was done with an icecream container lid on the spokes) by putting their weight on our high tech mudguards and nearly causing us to come unstuck. We made a breif stop at the temple (managing to avoid the entry fee by taking the sly back route) where we were entertained by a massive flock of birds that circled overhead in some sort of formation - clearly on their way to roost at the non-existent lake. Monks smiled at our ungainliness enroute back to their extensive monastry which layered the surrounding hill beneath the golden icon.
We hopped back on the bikes and headed town-ward spotting a giant pristine yak behind a touristy looking gate guarded by a local kid in resplendent yak attire, and were about to take a photo of the beast when the kid cried out for his Dad (dibber-dobber) who appeared between us and
Zhongdian
Clean that up please poo-lady! the photogenic beast - also looking dapper in his leopard skin cloak. "10 Yuan for a photo of the yak" he demanded. Ah, fresh capitalism... "Sorry mate, cant afford it on our tight budget" we responded, and despite the yak's despondence we wobbled off down the road cursing ourselves for not being quicker with the trigger finger.
Back into town we returned the bikes and met up with some Israelis that were staying at our hostel that suggested that we all go out to dinner together. Making our way through old town in search of the elusive budget cafe - we stumbled across the local past-time of dancing in the square. Where locals, decked out in all the gear would join hands and do a funny little dance on the spot before taking a step to the side and repeating the manouvre. Fresh from the line dancing at Lijiang I was eager to participate, but the Israeli's combined hunger clearly outweighed my desire to 'cut some rug' - and who was I to argue with an Israeli?
Over dinner they recounted the tragic tale of their mates who had ventured out on a day trip somewhere between Chengdu
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Village life was tough in the wet season and Zhongdian, only to get themselves lost, spending three days in the chilly mountain wilderness. One of them ended up separating from the group (???) in search of the main road and a taxi before hiking for a further 30 hours back to the main gate. Alerting the authorities, a search party of locals and police were sent to rescue them, eventually making it safely after relying on the hospitality of villagers and mountain huts. Lucky Bastards! I had to laugh (being a Schloffenhoffer, Christophe) after our experiences with the disorientated Israeli on our gorge trek, before it was pointed out that one of the party was at the dinner table with us - Ooops! (And next he was off to the gorge!)
We burnt the candle until the wee hours that morning in the warmth of the communal room at the hostel with the dinner crew another funny 50 y.o bloke from Yorkshire, who had ridden right around SE Asia before having his bicycle flogged in Dali - and boy did he have some stories to tell...
The next day consisted of a hearty Tibetan breakfast of Yak butter tea, Tsampa, thick local bread and sugar coated
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Ricko picks up some pace coming into the village leg, despite his dodgy wobbly back wheel. yak cheese - Yum! before waddling around to attend to our various administrative tasks - shopping for Michelle, banking and tickets to Deqin and Kunming for Andrew. Surprisingly, we ran into Emily and Pete around midday, they had changed their plans and now intended to fly to Lhasa for the Tibetan experience. It was great to see them again after such an extended absence (3 days) and we headed out to dinner to catch up on the goss. Steve had unfortunately gone back to Thailand the previous day which was a real shame - he would have loved Zhongdian (only you know why Steve).
Emily and Michelle traded secrets into the early hours while Ricko entertained the staff (Andy and Tsingo) and the Yorkshire bloke back at the hostel with his wit, charm, poor use of Chinese and .mp3 collection. All in all a fun night... Meanwhile unbeknownst to us all, Pete was concocting a plan to block his fourth toilet of the trip so far - a feat which he achieved only after his departure several days later (to be continued...)
We bade farewell to our friends again turning it in before an early start for the
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The temple on the hill - surrounded by the monastry bus to Dequin the next day.
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Uncle Chop Chop
Monty King
Biggest loser!!
That massive pile of steaming shit, certainly goes some way to explaining ´Chards dramatic weight loss!!!