Catch the Travel Bug

By Michael SN Godfrey

Experience some of the dangers, and the humour found when travelling to parts that are often well off the beaten track followed by most tourists. The reader can thus feel that they have shared and participated in each of our travels, all from the safety of your armchair.

This book includes trips to Antarctica, Argentina, China and Tibet, Easter Island, India and Sikkim, Indonesia, Madagascar, Malaysian Borneo, Myanmar, Nepal, Oman, Peru, Russia, Rwanda, Tanzania, Thailand, and Vietnam.

Each chapter is self-contained and covers a different trip.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Sep 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543747614

Michael SN Godfrey

After retiring in 1999, the author continues to enjoy travelling the globe with Lian, his Malaysian wife.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

China: Following The Silk Route.

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Pony trek to the high pastures – Tianchi Lake.

We have all heard and read about the Silk Route while at school, and it had been on our ‘must travel’ list for some time.

We tickled the edge when we did the branch from Kashgar in western China dropping down via the Karakoram Highway into Pakistan, this being the ancient route down to the Indian Ocean.

In fact, there is no single Silk Route, but a spider’s web of trails westwards. They skirt the edges of the central deserts and are then funnelled together at a few places where they have to cross over mountain passes. It was a perilous journey in the old days, as one not only suffered from the heat and lack of water but also the robbers and thieves who were just too happy to rob a passing caravan.

But we were to take the easy way, using buses and trains, as well as the occasional horse or bicycle.

Our trip could be split into three sections, as we were joining a group from Malaysia for a couple of weeks, and would be fending for ourselves for the week before and after this.

A Malaysian Chinese tour agent was leading the Malaysian group. His style was said to be free & easy, and he was very explicit in saying he wanted no prudes, whingers, fusspots etc. We would be paying directly for our food and for the various entrance fees for the places visited. As we found out later, the cost of the latter item is high in China.

Lian and I left Kuala Lumpur in mid-May on the three-hour-forty-minute Southern China flight to Guangzhou (previously known as Canton). The Guangzhou airport is new and quite striking architecturally. We did, however, have a problem, as they would not allow a bottle of duty-free port to be taken onto the domestic flight, as they said this was against their security rules after checking-in. Despite lots of arguments, we had to have the bottle wrapped and sent on its own, in the main baggage compartment. Imagine our surprise to find it waiting, unbroken, on the baggage-handling track at our destination.

After a 3-hour wait, we then took a connecting flight to Urumqi, which is in the north-west of Xinjiang province. This flight took nearly five hours, which is a good indicator of the distance travelled across China.

Urumqi.

We were due to meet the Malaysian group in a further week’s time in Urumqi and had been given the name of the hotel the group was going to use. Therefore, it made sense for us to use the same hotel.

We took a taxi into town and told the taxi driver our destination. But that is not a hotel, he said, I know a much better one. Having heard that story before, we told him we wanted the Ye He Hotel and only the Ye He Hotel.

Boy—that driver was right! The hotel was pretty crummy and full of men in their white pantaloons and long flapping shirttails. The hallways were dark, and the carpets old, rippled, and sticky. If this was to be the hotel standard for our trip, then we had better get used to it. But the sheets and duvet were spotless.

Went out for a walk and bought a big round flatbread straight from the oven that we munched walking along.

After a nice hot shower, we both slept like logs.

At 8 am the next morning, we took a local bus to the Long Distance Bus Station and bought sleeper bus tickets for the evening trip westward to a town called Yining, quite close to the Kazak border. We were due to arrive at 10 am the next day, a 15-hour journey for the 435 miles (700km). Are we completely bonkers? The cost each was about US$20.

Went for a stroll, buying baked pastries stuffed with minced mutton. All the restaurants have charcoal barbeques outside and make a roaring trade in mutton kebabs.

As everywhere we went in China, the local buses are frequent, and they have a standard fare however far you go, of about 15 US cents.

In the afternoon we walked along to the Grand Bazaar area. Teaming with people and stalls selling everything you can think of. Bought walnuts and raisins for the journey. One new shopping mall had minarets and towers and was all faced with decorative brickwork. Imagine our surprise to find they had a large French supermarket inside, Carrefour.

The people here are mostly Kazak and Uighur, with only a few Han Chinese. The Kazaks have been semi-nomadic herders, and are known as good horsemen, and have European features. The Uighurs are a Turkic race, stocky, bearded, brown-haired, and round-eyed.

The luxury sleeper bus can sleep thirty-six passengers and crew, with three rows of double bunks, and two rows of corridor. A bit narrow I must say, and insufficient legroom for me. And there is undoubtedly inadequate headroom for me to sit upright. We managed two window side sleepers.

The bus was a half an hour late in leaving, and we lost a further half hour at a police checkpoint until the driver, at last, appeared to have paid up.

Once out of town we could see that Urumqi was on a broad alluvial plain, which was yielding vegetables and grapes.

The bus stops every two or three hours, and everyone rushes off to the toilets. The standard of the open toilets would be the subject of an X rated certificate. In the night, however, toilet facilities seem to be non-existent, so one walks into the darkness, or goes behind any building. Unhygienic, but one learns to turn a blind nose to this.

The roads started off being quite good, with frequent toll collections. For the majority of the journey, the highway is still under construction, so this means long deviations across the desert. Lots of dust, as not only are there plenty of buses, but large trailer lorries. Frequent traffic jams, until an enterprising driver spots a new shortcut, then it’s like a F1 starting grid to get ahead of the dust storm.

I saw all this in detail, as the spare driver and two friends were playing a boisterous Chinese card game until well past 2 am.

Woke at 7 am to see a dusting of snow on the hills. We had slowly risen as we travelled north-westwards from 1,300ft (400m) above sea level on the plain, to over 6,500ft (2,000m). Then, over a mountain pass, we come across a beautiful blue lake with snow-capped mountains on our right. I woke Lian up to enjoy the view.

The road then turned southwards and later east as it dropped 3,300ft (1,000m) through a steep valley lined with huge conifers. Along the way were groups of people with their portable beehives and bottles of honey for sale. These people stay only as long as there is plenty of nectar for the bees, after which they stack the hives onto a lorry and drive off for new pastures.

Suddenly the dusty desert becomes green with cultivation, and we realise that Yining must be close. We arrived there only fifteen minutes late.

Yining.

When they unloaded the bus, someone took out a container of live fish. Our bags were next to it, and surprise, surprise, the bottom of Lian’s bag was wet. She complained to the driver, who told her to Put it out in the sun to dry. Ha Ha.

Lian was not amused, and complained to a woman manager at the terminus management office. This woman then got me to go and get the driver, and he returned with his mate and his boss, and the woman gave them a substantial public reprimanding. And these three took it like lambs. She demanded the bus company pay compensation, and then put us in a spot by asking us how much we wanted. As we always put our things in plastic bags before packing our soft cases, we did not think there was much harm. We quoted a nominal figure, and the driver paid without hesitation and shook hands. I wonder how much they would have paid if I had complained about the late card session? The driver helped us get a taxi, and then shared it into town.

On this trip, we were using ‘The Rough Guide to China’ rather than the ‘Lonely Planet’, and found it superior, with a better description of hotels.

We booked into the Yili Hotel, which had been the USSR Consulate in the old days. The hotel comprised several blocks set in a heavily wooded garden. It really was a delightful place. Every time we walked in from the relative bustle and noise of the town, the temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees, the traffic noise disappeared, and the birds sang so loudly.

Found a pleasant restaurant near the hotel, and then wandered around the town admiring the main square and the Uiger market. Later did some bird-watching in the hotel grounds, and sat in the garden and enjoyed our bottle of port.

Breakfast is only served between 9 to 10.30am. This is because the official time for the whole of China is ‘Beijing Time’. Yes—a good idea, but by the sun, we were about two hours behind Beijing.

The breakfast was Chinese buffet style, with lots of salted vegetables, steamed buns etc. The ‘milk tea’ is served in a big tureen, and has generous lashings of salt in it. Rather like the Tibetan tea, but without the rancid butter.

Took a local bus to a small town of Chapcha. Here the minibuses have no set timetable, and only leave the bus depot when they are full. The bus depot there turned out to be a long way from our destination, and we joined a couple of elderly ladies from Kashgar in a motorised tricycle for the ride to the museum. This was dedicated to a small tribe known as the Xibo. They had been forced to Yining in 1764 to act as frontier guards for the Emperor. They had no written language and kept their genealogical records by tying objects to a length of rope stretched across the ceiling of their main room.

Tried to get bookings for our return sleeper bus, but were told to return the next day.

Climbed onto a pretty full local bus, and was somewhat embarrassed when a man made his wife stand up and give me her seat. He said that this was because I could not stand up straight due to lack of headroom. So I sat next to him.

The next day we had an SMS message on our hand phone to say that the Malaysian group would be staying at a different hotel in Urumqi. We just hoped that the leader was not trying to save money, and we expected that the standard might drop even further.

Still unable to book the sleeper bus, and it was a long walk wasted, as they were carrying out a lot of roadworks in the area.

So we retook a local bus for the 19-mile (30 km) trip to a remote village of Hui Yuen. There is nothing to really recommend it, apart from a pagoda-shaped drum tower at the main village roundabout and some old mud houses. Each had a high wall surrounding the compound, and a pole trellis covering a wide veranda. Grape vines would later cover the trellis, providing both fruit and also shade.

It was the day we were due to check out, and the cashier got it in her mind that we wanted to pay by credit card, even though we had said we would pay by cash. So they phoned their bank manager, who drove to the hotel to carry out the transaction. But to his embarrassment, he could not get my MasterCard to register. So we finished up paying cash anyway.

A taxi took us to the bus station for the 5 pm bus, but they had changed our booking to 7 pm, as they said it was a better bus. In fact, they had about six sleeper buses leaving at 7 pm, and they were all in telephone contact with each other. While climbing up the 6,550 ft (2,000m) pass, the radiator hose on our bus cracked, and we lost some time making a makeshift repair. Several buses stopped to check our progress, so we no longer felt so vulnerable. The journey was arduous, and the ‘pee stops’ infrequent, but we made significant progress and arrived in Urumqi just after 8 am, which was two hours early!

Urumqi.

How pleasantly surprised we were when the taxi driver at last found the You Jiao Lou Hotel. This was relatively new and had a lift to the fourth floor, so it was more than acceptable than our previous hotel. They even gave us breakfast vouchers.

Spent the day resting and walking around the Grand Bazaar area.

Crossing the road is hazardous in China. The cars drive on the right, our ‘wrong side’, and do not stop for right-hand turns, even when the lights are red. They do not stop at zebra crossings either, so one waits for the locals to cross and keep close but downwind of the oncoming traffic.

The Malaysia group were due to arrive late that evening. The group comprised the leader, two couples, a single man, twelve women, and us. They had had a one and a half day journey via an overnight in Macau. The group were tired, so we briefly introduced ourselves to them.

The next morning we all met up early and took taxis down to the Gong Yuan Renmin Park. Here the people of Urumqi meet every morning for exercise. It was incredible: groups doing tai chi, sword fighting, ballroom dancing, aerobics, fan dancing, and many other activities. There was loud music everywhere, and hundreds of people participating. We all had our breakfast at some stalls selling pau (steamed buns) and various types of fried bread.

From there we moved to a quieter park with a pagoda on a hill. Here they had a pretty cute idea: they had a few lines of thick chains, and people had locked big padlocks to this chain. Each padlock had been engraved with the names of lovers, and securing one onto the chain was a sign of undying love. Should be some money in this idea.

From here we took taxis along to the main museum. Although this was under reconstruction, they had a section around the back that had some 3,200 BC-year-old corpses. They were not mummified, but had been buried and dehydrated naturally in the desert sands. One could clearly see the nails and hair. One of the women was said to have European features and was coined the ‘Loulan Beauty’ by National Geographic.

The rest of the day and evening was spent in the bazaar area.

Tianchi Lake.

Next morning, we had our hotel breakfast, and at 10 am set out in our hired bus for the 70-mile (110km) trip up into the hills to the Tianchi Lake or ‘Heavenly Lake’, which is said to be China’s version of the Swiss Alps. With the bus, we also had a Chinese lady guide. Her English was very limited, so one of the Mandarin-speaking men in our group acted as a translator.

From the bus, we were decanted into smaller buses for the final climb, and then into electric golf-carts.

Some horses were waiting there to meet us and carry the luggage, and we all set off trekking along the lakeside which is surrounded by steep rocky hills. Many were covered with tall pines. In the background are snow-covered mountains. It was all pretty impressive.

Then we rounded a headland, and in a cove were set up a number of yurts. This was to be our destination for three nights. We had been allocated three yurts, and we shared a lakeside yurt with the two married couples.

The yurt is a circular tent of animal skins and canvas, stretched over a wicker framework. The raised wooden floor was covered in carpets and rugs, and we had bright duvets to unroll and keep warm. There was also a small pot-bellied stove in each yurt, fed with coal and wood. But if one slept too well, the fire would go out, and it soon gets pretty cold at this altitude.

We were told we could go anywhere in the woods as a toilet, but not use the lake, as this supplied the washing and drinking water. To be fair, they did have a pit latrine up against the hillside.

Food was served on a table with benches out in the open. Limited, but adequate. Meals usually comprised a local version of greasy fried rice with a few bits of mutton innards thrown in.

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking along the lakeside. Later on, we all had a trek up the hills to a vantage point and enjoyed really great views.

Even the very lumpy bed could not stop us sleeping, and thank goodness we had no snorers. The moon was full and bright, and one needed no torch for the trek for a midnight pee.

The weather the next morning remained fair and sunny as usual, and we enjoyed our fried pancakes for breakfast.

Before 9 am, we had each been allocated a horse and a guide, and we set off alongside the lakeside with the guides leading the small horses. Every now and again the guide would jump up behind the rider, pillion style, and push the horse into an uncomfortable canter. Then the horse would take what appeared to be an impossibly steep and rocky path up the hillside. This was quite scary for non-riders like myself. Lian had done some riding before, and as her horse would not accept a second passenger, she found herself in control of the horse on her own. When we had one particularly steep descent, we all had to dismount and lead the horse down. But the horses were much more surefooted than we were.

Once we reached the head of the lake, we followed a relatively level river-bed and had to make many stream crossings through deep rocky streambeds.

A couple of times we stopped to give the horses a rest. We had climbed from 6,500ft (1,990m) at the lakeside, to the 7,400ft (2,250m) of a spectacular mountain meadow. This was full of small yellow and blue flowers just begging to be rolled in. The view of the surrounding hills was stunning, and at one point one could see down to the lakeside. I had complained to no avail to my young guide, that a brass buckle on the stirrup strap had been cutting into my calf. He indicated that he could not do anything about it, but at the meadow, his father sorted me out, and I had no further discomfort.

We clambered up a steep valley to find a waterfall, but gave up after a 650ft (200m) climb, as the track was dangerous with sheer drops and an unpredictable surface.

One of the guides found a long black flight feather and gave it to Lian. It was nearly 2ft 3in (700mm) long, and 4/10th inch (10mm) diameter at the quill end. We are sure it was from a Lammergeyer, or Bearded Vulture, as a couple of days later we saw four soaring high overhead. (They have a distinctive wedge-shaped tail)

On the way back the guides passed over the reins to the riders, so we had the chance to tell the horse on which side of the rock to move.

My little guide was sitting quietly behind me when I suddenly felt something sliding down around each of my back pockets. Is this young man looking for my wallet? No, he was just trying to warm his hands. Had me worried for a moment!

It was mid-afternoon by the time we got back to our camp.

Our leader had ordered a lamb for the evening meal, and an Australian group had ordered another. The brown-coated sheep stood together, and one of the Australians, a farmer, confirmed that they were each probably about 8 months old, but they looked fully-grown to me. Then two of the Kazaks had a quick prayer and proceeded to cut the sheep’s throats and bleed them to death. Pretty gruesome, and all caught on video. Then a fast skinning, before they took the carcasses off to butcher them. Within half an hour of breathing, the lambs were on kebab sticks grilling over the fire. Some of the lamb was boiled and served in a dish for us to try. Very tasty, but we did not seem to get much of the meat even though we had paid for the whole animal. I am sure the locals kept a significant share in their own yurt and had a party on our behalf.

We had also paid extra for a cultural show. There was a singer who played the accordion, a dancer in local costume, and the girl who served our food. The latter was all made up but looked very unhappy to be out-staged by the other two. We had lots of laughs when some of our group joined in the dancing.

Up the next morning at 7 am. Cool (50deg F-10 deg C) and bright, and time to watch a large herd of sheep and goats being driven through our camp. By 9:30 am we had our bags put on the packhorses, and we started our stroll along the lakeside and back to comparative civilisation.

Turpan.

It was late morning when our bus left on the trip to Turpan. The countryside here was flat with low rolling hills. It was hot and glaring, and we first made our way back to Urumqi where we stopped for lunch. On the way to Turpan, we stopped to see a significant wind farm with huge propellers slowly turning on giant pylons. Passed a salt lake, said to be below sea level. The summer heat here must be unbearable.

Made a couple of stops, including visiting an underground irrigation system called a Karez. A series of tunnels are built taking spring water from the hills out into the flat desert so it can be irrigated. They were constructed by digging many wells in a straight line, and then joining up the bottom of the wells so that the water flows below the desert. They say that there were some 3,100miles (5,000km) of Karez in Xinjiang province alone. I remember they had a similar system in Afghanistan.

We visited the ancient city of Jiaohe, set on a plateau between two converging rivers. Not much standing now apart, from a few mud walls.

In the carpark there were five large Renault trucks accompanied by five Nissan Patrol 4WDs. They were on an overland journey from Lyon in France to Beijing. We had seen the expedition on the local TV a couple of days before. The French were very proud to show the trucks, which were to ‘Paris—Dakar’ specification.

It was late evening when we eventually arrived in Turpan and checked into the Grain Trade Hotel. Just about adequate, but the opportunity of having a hot shower and washing some clothes after our time at Tianchi was wonderful.

So it was late by the time we walked down to the stalls for a ‘steamboat’ of meat and vegetables dipped into a boiling stock soup and a beer.

We spent the early morning browsing around the local market before checking out and getting onto our bus.

Stopped for a quick look at the old brick minaret at Emin, before proceeding to Grape Valley. This was a slightly disappointing place. We wasted a couple of hours as the bus driver took us to a restaurant where we waited two hours for a serving of fried rice. We certainly did some whinging there and became unpopular with our leader, when Lian represented ‘the silent majority’ and asked him why he and his guide and driver were eating in a back room while his clients sat hungry and fuming.

This whole area is a great supplier of raisins. They come in various colours and many different qualities. Once the grapes are harvested, they are hung up on hanging racks inside drying rooms. These mud buildings have a mud roof and open trellis brick walls. They do not, therefore, receive the direct sunlight but the grapes are dehydrated by the dry wind blowing through the perforated walls.

Then we took our bus to visit the Flaming Mountains and the Bezeklik Caves. It was said that with the heat haze on the red sandstone hills, they look as if they are on fire. The place was made famous in the 16th-century Chinese story ‘Journey to the West’, about a Buddhist’s pilgrimage to India, and these flaming mountains confronted him. At the caves, they have figures depicting the characters in the story. One can even climb the hill, but we certainly did not have the time.

We also visited the ancient city of Gaochang, of which only the city walls are standing, and again we were very short of time.

All this area skirts the northern side of the Taklamakan Desert, which freely translated means Go in, don’t come out. A pretty graphic description don’t you think?

Our journey was to continue via overnight sleeper train, and so our bus left on the one-hour ride northwards to the nearest railway station. We were not sorry to say goodbye to our bus driver, who had been responsible for picking the restaurant in Grape Valley.

By now it was late, and the restaurants near the station were all closed.

But one of the wonders of Chinese bus stations, railway stations and trains, is that they have a ready supply of free hot water. So we all bought packets of instant noodles, that can come in its own waterproof container. One just opens the top and pours in hot water, and then wait for about five minutes. So we had something to sustain us while we waited for the 11:30 pm train to Dunhuang.

The waiting room was jammed with travellers, each seemed to have baggage and sacks bigger than they were. We took platform tickets, and were directed to the part of the train with the ‘hard sleeper’. Someone was supposed to be on the arriving train bringing our tickets with them. And it worked. Our group had been allocated four cubicles in the carriage. Each cubicle comprised six bunks in three levels. Lian and I were lucky to get bottom bunks. The top bunks must be 8 feet (2.1/2m) above the deck and quite a climb. The lights had already been turned off, so it was a while before the group could sort themselves out and get to sleep.

Dunhuang.

Woke at 6:30 am and enjoyed hot coffee compliments of the carriage hot water boiler, and at 9:30 am arrived at Dunhuang station. That is somewhat of a misnomer, as the actual town of Dunhuang is 80 miles (130km) away to the south. But another private bus was waiting for us, with a different lady guide, who spoke no English. But she was very happy and cheerful, so we soon forgave her.

The one-and-a-half-hour trip was across very flat and featureless desert, that slowly became greener as we reached the town. Stopped for some lunch, and set off for the Magao Grotto Caves.

At the ticket office, we had to leave our backpacks and cameras. Strictly no photos are allowed. We could, however, take in our torches and binoculars, and these proved very useful.

These Buddhist caves had been carved between the 4th and the 14th century. A Chinese abbot, who rediscovered them, then became the custodian. He found a hidden chamber full of old documents. When Aurel Stein, a Hungarian working for the British & Indian Survey, visited in 1907, he bought over 5,000 scrolls and paintings, and these proved to be of enormous importance. One document, the ‘Diamond Sutra’ is said to be the oldest known printed document, and can be seen in the British Museum. We also visited the exhibition centre before re-boarding our bus.

We had to suffer the obligatory shopping stop, where the guide has to sign in. Prices here are always much too high, as the shops have to pay a commission to the tour company. Our guides soon realised that our group were not there for the shopping, and would leave as quickly as possible.

On arrival in Dunhuang, we checked into the Xi Yu Hotel. An acceptable room, but with extremely hard beds—even the hard sleeper of the train seemed like an interior sprung mattress in comparison.

Bought some wine and had this with some smoked beef, before trying ‘Shirley’s Café’ for dinner.

Next morning, we left early for the short journey to the dunes, which were just out of town. These sand dunes are really impressive. Our group then took camels for a walkabout. Our leader, the guide, Lian and I, had decided we wanted to walk up. It’s hard walking on the soft sand. But the light conditions were excellent across the dunes, and we really enjoyed it. The final climb up the steep part of the dune was done using wooden steps (an extra charge). We all spent a while at the top and were reluctant to descend. Some groups were tobogganing down using bamboo sledges—yes, another extra. In the end, we all slid down on our bums and had lots of laughs.

Before we left, we also visited the crescent lake in a small oasis.

Last night Lian had negotiated good rates for hiring bicycles from ‘Shirley’s’, so we all set off at 5 pm to explore the local backstreets and villages. Lian and I finished up leaving the others and cycling back to the dunes. The roads and paths were pretty rough, and we were being tossed around a bit. Where in the hell do male cyclists keep their testicles?

But on our way back we were hit by a dust storm coming straight at us. It was really hard work peddling, and we had to stop to wrap scarves or towels around our nostrils and mouth. We were full of grit, but the beer at Shirley’s washed mine away.

Jianyuguan.

Another bus trip, this time to Jianyuguan 233 miles (375km) away. Met some light rain for the first time. For the first half hour, we passed through the irrigated and cultivated countryside, but then it became a flat desert, and later on low hills appeared. The road is under repair and reconstruction, and the many diversions soon became very muddy.

At one stop was an old ruined fort, and we passed another wind farm.

By late afternoon we arrived at the fort at Jianyuguan, and the sun was out, and the clouds had gone away.

Jianyuguan had been the western gateway/outpost to the Chinese empire, and the end of the Great Wall. It is strategically located in a valley between the mountains to the north and the south. It was here on the Silk Route that the Chinese would sell their good to the barbarians who would take it westwards. One Chinese writer said, There is nothing to do all day but to sit and listen to the howling wind.

The western gate of the fort was also where Chinese miscreants were forcibly ejected into the wilderness.

But today was a great day, with no wind and crystal-clear visibility, and we all enjoyed our walk around the fort and took lots of photos.

There was just time before dark to visit the ‘Hanging Wall’ end of the Great Wall, which has been rebuilt for the tourists.

Checked into the Xiong Guan Hotel, and left our bags in the room to go for dinner before the stalls closed.

Early the next morning we left on a different bus, which was said to be more powerful, for the 66-mile (107km) trip to a glacier. The bus took the valley road before turning up into the hills. We slowly rose from 5,400ft (1,645m) and crossed several passes of 13,000ft (3,950m). We saw some spectacular scenery and even some fresh snow on the ground. At a ‘pee stop’ I offered a prize for anyone who could write their name in the fresh snow—but no takers.

Parked the bus at the height of 12,600ft (3,840m) and started strolling uphill. It was hard work, as we had not acclimatised to the altitude, and I had to stop often to catch my breath and let my pulse rate reach a sensible level. Luckily Lian and I had on our trekking boots, but some of the others had sandals and other unsuitable footwear. There was plenty of fresh snow to walk in. We got up to 13,600ft (4,155m) and made do with the view of the glacier from there. On the trip down, the snow had melted, and the pathway had become a small riverbed. It was extremely slippery. One of the men in our group had been vomiting and had a severe headache; both classic symptoms of altitude sickness. I also had a bit of a headache, which disappeared as we reached the plain.

Had dinner in town before bussing to the railway station for another overnight ‘hard sleeper’ to Lanzhou. This time Lian and I had one bottom and one middle bunk and shared with four strangers. The train left at 7 pm, so we all had enough light to sort ourselves out. Slept well, and the train arrived twelve hours later.

Noted that the typical Chinese man likes a black leather belt with a gold buckle, and carries a vast collection of keys on a keychain attached to his belt.

Xining.

On arrival at Lanzhou, we left on another private bus for the 127-mile (205km) trip south on a new highway to Xining. Our guide had travelled with us on the train. We arrived at mid-morning and checked into the Xining Hotel. Another enjoyable shower in our ‘prefabricated’ bathroom.

After lunch, we took our bus for the15-mile (25km) journey to the Ta’er Si Monastery, also known as Kumbum. This was the birthplace of the founder of the Yellow Hat sect and was the former home of the present Dalai Lama. Although founded in 1560, the monastery is not a very attractive place as the location is not so good, and it is all a bit scrappy. Most of the buildings forbid photos, and there was always a monk around to ensure this instruction was being followed.

Xiahe.

It was an early morning at the end of June when our bus left for the 186-mile (300km) trip to Xiahe, which we were told would take 8 hours.

Before leaving town, we stopped for nearly an hour at the Dong Guan Mosque. Of the six women in our group who work for Standard Chartered Bank in Kuala Lumpur, four are strict Muslims and wear a ‘tudong’ scarf covering their hair. All are good fun and enjoy a laugh. One was even on the Everest trip when two Malaysian men conquered the mountain.

The route took us over many passes of over 9,800ft (3,000m), and on through the green pastures of valleys of between 6,500ft to 8,850ft (2,000m to 2,700m).

Stopped at a very Muslim town of Shin Wa for some noodles for lunch. All the men here wear skullcaps, and the women wear a black lace headdress.

We wandered along and chatted with some old men and took photos.

How do we converse? Well, Lian is getting on very well with her Mandarin, and this together with a lot of smiles and sign language get us what we want. I say, knee how to everyone, which means hello, or salaam alakum if they are obviously Moslems. They then reply with a long list of questions that I do not understand, but know they are asking me where I come from (answer eng guan = England), or how old are you? For this, I raise both fists with my thumbs and little fingers sticking out, as this is the sign for six. Then I smile and walk away, as by this time a large crowd would have gathered.

Continued our journey, going over several higher passes, and the road became a mud track. Some drizzle at the higher altitudes. Beautiful pastures in the valleys and even the hillsides were green with grass.

Then suddenly we dropped over another pass and after two hours came upon another paved road.

We had reached Xiahe, and by late afternoon had checked into the White Conch Hotel. This was a really crummy place, with hot water available only after 9 pm, and none in the morning.

The choice of Chinese restaurants was somewhat limited, but the beer was OK.

How is it that one can get a large bottle of reasonable beer all over China for about 30 to 45 US cents in a café when it costs about US$2.5 to 4 in Malaysia?

It was cold here at night, and so had to put on some socks to keep warm.

Next morning, we set off for the Sangke Grasslands but were delayed when the whole main street was closed, while they held the Childs Day Parade. All the school kids were wearing make-up and marched along waving pompoms or flags to their school marching bands. The best part was watching the Tibetan school kids pass by.

The Grasslands were a little disappointing, as