A hunting we will go!

Let me make one thing perfectly clear, I don't agree with hunting as a sport, bloodsports make my blood curdle. So why is it I found myself enchanted by the idea of going out, on horseback, to go hunting with an eagle? It beats me! I need to put this into perspective, for my own peace of mind. I've nothing against hunting to feed yourself, nothing against an animal hunting for it's own food; whether that animal is domesticated or not. So I'm hovering over a very fine line here, the commercial use of an eagle to bring in tourist dollars raises enough questions on its own, my concern rests entirely on the subject of killing for fun rather than necessity. I can't speak for the eagle hunter himself, but for me the hunt wasn't to see an eagle kill, it was to see it hunt. The fact is I'm not squeamish, I think natural hunters should be able to follow their instincts to procure their food. But apart from all this philosophical claptrap, have you ever been close to a natural predator. Make no mistake about it, an eagle is awesome, the feeling of power immense, they demand total respect. (Photo: Heading toward the Tian Shan - Issyk-Kul lake, Kyrgyzstan)

Checking up on what to expect on the southern shore of Issyk-Kul, I came across the information of a guy at Kadhji-Sai would would take out parties into the mountains to watch him hunt with his eagle. It had always been my intention to get at least a short horse ride in while travelling through Kyrgyzstan, to do it in the company of an eagle really captured my imagination. It gave me good reason to stagger my journey around the lake, an excuse to actually circumnavigate the lake rather than take the quick and easy way back. I couldn't be arsed with the quick and easy way, I wanted to experience more of what this country had to offer. Ishenbek's home and hunting foray took me off the busier tourist trail, it got me in the mood for delving into the less frequented parts of Kyrgyzstan. (Photo: Off the beaten track, the Tian Shan mountains - Issyk-Kul lake, Kyrgyzstan)

My headspace is fine, I don't need the presence of others to feel content, but a bit of company can be appreciated; it is nice to communicate after all. But when it really boiled down to it, I fancied going out with just the eagle, Ishenbek and me, I was prepared to pay for the privilege too. A young lass from HongKong joined me in the minibus from Karakol, she too was enthusiastic about seeing the eagle. Being short of time it was only her intention to hit and run, see a quick demonstration before leaving again for Bishkek. I was relieved, as I said, I didn't necessarily want to share the experience. It was bad enough that she slid into my window seat when we climbed into the van, but hell it was her birthday, a touch of generosity is good for the soul. It did bring home my reasons for travelling so much on my own though. Arriving at Kadhji-Sai I parted company with her (shame I don't recall her name), simply because I didn't want to hurry up to Ishenbek's, I wasn't keen about jumping on someone else's bandwagon. As it happened we met again at the guesthouse, she appreciated a quick demonstration in the hills behind while I relaxed, then she buggered off as I settled in. And so late that night, as I dozed with my headphones on, a persistent knocking on the door brought me back to reality. Another couple of guests had arrived, I wasn't to have a dorm to myself after all. (Photo: Looking for prey - Tian Shan mountain range, Kyrgyzstan)

Nor was I to have my own personal eagle hunt, damn!! For once though it wasn't too intrusive sharing a special experience, the two guys were a pleasure to be with. Their appreciation of the quiet life was equal to my own, their delight in keeping nature natural comparable too. I wasn't the only one running to pick up plastic bags blowing in the wind, in fact with someone else, younger and fitter, I allowed him the moral pleasure of catching the offending items. It was strange, I was the more experienced horseman, I was the one able to pass on tidbits of advice on handling the horses. Nothing essential, but how to use reins and legs to reinforce commands, direction. It also gave me an advantage when first meeting the horses, I avoided the sorriest looking horse, who did indeed prove to be constantly lagging behind whilst climbing into the mountains. It was a long day and by the end of it both horses and riders were drained. Way before we actually descended I'd considered making my own way back, my horse was stumbling, his choice of path verged on the suicidal at times, I was having to be more forceful every minute. I could see the farm where we'd started from, my right knee and ankle were giving me grief, I'd had enough. When I realised I wasn't the only one I was relieved, funnily enough it was the bag of bones who proved to have the greatest stamina at the end. (Photo: Looking for prey - Tian Shan mountain range, Kyrgyzstan)

The ride was long and arduous, but worth every minute. Looping round through the mountains provided us with stupendous views, the experience was exceptional. Even the drive to our starting point was gobsmacking, heading ever closer to the ragged line of snowcapped peaks. Our route lead us across ever narrower, rougher tracks, until finally following barely discernible tyre tracks to a tiny farmyard with a host of Salukis racing around, excited at our arrival. These weren't the glossy, groomed breed of Saluki we see at home, they were true hunting dogs, keen to get into the hills and root out prey. As it happened only one rabbit broke cover all day, the eagle got to fly free only once. But that failed to detract from our pleasure, just being in the company of such a beast was special, and what a beast! Ishenbek obviously got desperate towards the end, wanting to give us our moneys worth. Time and again we waited from high vantage points while the dog scoured the broken hillside for prey. But it was all to no avail, nothing broke cover, no matter how hard our noble eagle hunter tried. None of us were complaining though, we enjoyed ever minute of it. From our cups of fermented mare's milk at the beginning, to the bottle of vodka we shared for lunch we enjoyed our host's hospitality. (Photo: One man and his eagle - Tian Shan mountain range, Kyrgyzstan)

Finally our weary mounts carried us back to the homestead, where we interrupted a lively celebration. What the occasion was we never quite understood, it was clearly more of a celebration for some though. An aggressive drunk confronted us as we dismounted, I took an instant dislike to him. Rather than dispel any tension I displayed my displeasure with the fool, he failed to enamour me with his actions suggesting I looked like a woman, that I resembled an object for male sexual gratification. I guess the hard stares I directed his way didn't help, he threatened to slit my throat, which was foolish of him. More foolish was my blatant challenge to his threats, my adverse reaction when he laid his hands on me. It got close, but I wasn't about to back down. His hostility went as far as pushing his fist up to the face of one of the Israeli guys, I wouldn't have stood for that. I can only admire their refusal to be antagonised, trying their best to calm him down. I think the situation was only dispelled by an invite for us to join the celebrants inside. I'm not sure if the comment made there was based on what happened outside. One of the older local men told my two fellow tourists they were small men, and that I was a big man. I don't fully understand this, I can only think it was due to my refusal to tolerate the threats and actions of the drunken fool. (Photo: My moment of glory - Tian Shan, Kyrgyzstan)

In many ways I was ashamed of my behaviour, I should exhibit more self control. But I maintain that no-one should be able to act with such hostility without being shown it is undesirable. Why should I put up with such idiots? It may be a better man who doesn't allow himself to be provoked, but not everyone sees it that way. If a person doesn't understand the power of inaction, it's wasted on them. Live by the sword, die by the sword!

Issyk-Kol? Only at night!

Bishkek is a lot nicer to spend time in than Almaty seemed, it's still wise not to wander around at dark on your own, and it can be hard to elicit a pleasant response from staring locals. I didn't feel any overture of hostility as I wandered around the city during the day though. In fact a number of times I shared a few moments chatting to curious locals. One had me thinking he was trying to pick me up, until it became clear he was only using me to practice his English. Going to a bar/disco was more of an ordeal, though a funny one. At one point a friendly Kazak, there for a wedding celebration, literally picked me up bodily and carried me onto the dance floor. Bless him, he was made up that a few westerners were there to join in the celebrations. His sister was marrying a Kyrg, so the party was very mixed. when we left they were all still very spirited but amiable; after all there isn't any history of enmity between the two nationalities. (Photo: Grubby railway yard scene - Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan)

I probably spent a while longer than necessary, or desired, in Bishkek. I'd planned on three nights and spent an extra one, I couldn't face getting up at 5 am for a train to Balykchy, so I put off my departure for anther day. Reading somewhere that the train ride from Bishkek to Balykchy was spectacular, it became a bit of an obsession. At first no locals could even tell me where the train station was, claiming there were not trains from Bishkek. After insisting there was, pointing out there was one to Balykchy, they'd instantly agree. Ah yes, there is the one to Balykchy, but it much slower than the bus, so why use it? The answer to that was simple, it's the quality of life that is important. Which is probably why my time spent in the Kyrgyz capital has been appreciated; the people I met were a pleasure to be with. They were other travellers, others who made some effort to heighten their experiences while on their jaunts. The majority were going to greater lengths by travelling overland, by a great variety of methods. Central Asia isn't a place for the casual tourist, few people come for only a few weeks, and even fewer expect life to be served on a plate to them. (Photo: One man and his dog, pretending to ignore his harem - Nr. Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan)

The rewards can be colossal though, especially if you like your landscape on the large side. Huge open plains, magnificent mountains and oh, such beautiful blue skies. Personally I don't give a damn what the people are like when faced with such wondrous natural phenomenon. As long as they aren't trying to slit my throat, I can ignore it all. I live for those moments when facing the unadulterated delights of nature, to be at one with the elements, to savour the flavour of the world without the interference of human beings. God I miss my bike though, the freedom to go where I want, when I choose. How wonderful it is to stop at my own whim, snap to my heart's content, have a pee, a cigarette, travel at my own pace, reliant on no-one else. I crave for that style of transport, that freedom. And every time I run into a fellow motorcyclist it hurts, I pine for the freedom of the road. As I travel by bus or train every scene is judged from a biker's eye view. What joy it would induce riding through this valley, how marvellously twisty this mountain pass is, how amazing it would be to crank it round those bends. In all honesty you can stuff backpacking, give me a two wheels, give me the open road, give me freedom. (Photo: Folding hills and snowy peaks- Nr. Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan)

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the lands I've passed through, I adore the people I've met. And let's be honest, I'm forced to meet so many more when backpacking; but I only truly interact with a few of them. On a bike, when I do interact, it's up close, more personal, or so it seems. Even back packing though I have an advantage, I'm a freak, at least in this part of the world. It attracts attention; with dreads and tattoos I can't pass unnoticed, wherever I go. Putting it into perspective it's similar to being on my bike, which also draws attention, in fact it cries, "LOOK AT ME". If ever I wanted to travel anonymously I'd be doomed from the very start, but that isn't the way I lead my life, especially not when abroad. Anti-social I am not, my life has revolved around others, meeting people and sharing our differences. I love wowing the natives (how patronising that expression is), I thrive on making an impression. If asked what effect I want to have on the lives of those I meet on my travels, I'd have to say I want to open their minds. I'd like for others to recognise the world as a huge place, that it's there for us all, a playground to explore and have fun in. (Photo: Woah cowboy! - Towards Balykchy, Kyrgyzstan)

And how quick this new land has captured my heart, once escaping the less hospitable city, the people and countryside have people have touched my soul. A country tucked into the depths of the mountains, where natural beauty abounds, it's drawn me in, begged for a deeper appreciation. How glad I am to have gone beyond the city environs. For now, in Karakol, I stay on the outskirts of town, beyond the bustle of city life. I yearn to explore further what the country has to offer, yet must keep moving, must push on for a pre-arranged appointment. I must reach Kashgar within ten days, to travel through Tibet. I've started to drag my feet, reluctant to leave the promise of Kyrgyzstan behind. Maybe my time will come, I imagine I could easily return. Could this be the land where I am destined to lose myself? Ignore the city, shake loose the urban confines, there is something special about the people here. They are warm and welcoming, cheered by my presence, in only a couple of days I've found myself enchanted. (Photo: Traditional headgear on a far from traditional guy - Balykchy, Kyrgyzstan)

I can ignore the capital, the impersonal attitude of city folk, of rip-off taxi drivers. There is so much more the place has to offer, and I'm so sorry my time here is so limited. The outskirts of town feels like a different world altogether, it's more like a quiet village environment. Though holed up most the day, my limited excursions from the guesthouse have been filled with happy smiling faces. Hands crossing hearts shows the welcome extended, the depth of feeling. I've muddled through without conversing, but how I wish I could. Mongolia failed to wrench me away into the wilderness on horseback, now I feel distraught I haven't the time to indulge that dream here. Before leaving home I vowed to explore where I might return for a horse bound adventure, now I've found the place. By the time I finish Tibet it will be too late before winter, I don't intend tackling temperatures of up to -25 degrees C. But I don't think I can ignore this place, I hope this feeling remains, I hope I do return. (Photo: Where's my bike, this road should be ridden - Nr. Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan)

Don't ask me what has suddenly happened, I've no idea. Until this evening Kyrgyzstan didn't beckon so strongly, I hope it isn't just a drunken reverie. Now I'm in danger of hanging around too long, pushing the time restrictions to their limits. But I'm not stupid, at last I've escaped the tourist trail, finally I've tasted the country beyond the transit points of cities. Maybe the pull to do so wasn't as strong before, maybe it is simply the land I now find myself in. It's magical, with mountains streaked with snow, glistening lakes and a delightfully simple lifestyle. I want more of it, whereas before, in all the areas I've been through in the last month, they've failed to enthral me. Have I been blinkered to the beauty in front my own eyes? I don't think so, it's just that nowhere has had this effect until now. The scenery has forced me to seek more solitude, the people have captivated me. This is an awesome place, please stay away from it, it's my dream, I don't want foreign tourism to spoil it. (Photo: Lakeside delight - Balykchy to Karakol, Kyrgyzstan)

In reality I don't even know what will happen tomorrow, let alone in a few months time. But so far, if there is a place to come back to, this is it. If I'm to return somewhere for an adventure on horseback, I think I've found it. Don't hold me to this, it isn't a plan, because plans change. But nestled amongst soaring peaks, laying tranquil in alpine pastures, Kyrgyzstan is captivating. It's small enough for in depth discovery, personal enough for untold hospitality, and so beautiful it can't fail to take the breath away. Take my word for it, you won't like it; anyone would have to be insane to spend time here. Fly in, take a tour and bugger off again; leave the loonies to lose their minds in the wilderness. The country could do with a bit more tourism, so don't avoid it, just don't delve too deep! It's mine, all mine! (Photo: Outrageous statuary - Karakol, Kyrgyzstan)

The land the Soviets forgot.

I’m still floundering to some extent, but I’m not in a bad headstate. I’m not fully on the ball, but I’m coping. To me it’s obvious I’m fairly withdrawn compared to what I consider my old self. Who that person was I no longer know, I don’t recognize myself now. I’m tending to clam up and let things happen around me, rather than taking the bull by the horns. it could be called going with the flow, maybe I'm actually becoming more Zen, but I don't want to be passive about my life. Language difficulties exaggerate this withdrawal even more, I often shun those offering help, or even worse let them lead me on to whatever they're suggesting. Great in some ways though, many locals have helped me due to my muddled appearance. It's happened time and again, complete strangers coming to my aid, with no view of profit. If that's the response to appearing befuddled I think I'll keep on with it. There isn't any distress over this, as I said I'm content with where I am in life; considering the circumstances anyway. (Photo: Swollen river in the centre of a desert plain - East of Almaty, Kazakhstan)

Not relishing the thought of wandering lost in Almaty, alone with a full pack strapped to my back, it was a relief to have the company of Yoshi and his girlfriend. We'd met and spent some time at Gana's guesthouse in Ulaan Baatar, and as I climbed aboard the bus at Urumqi There they were. Of course at that stage I had no clue as to what Almaty would be like. What an easy target I would have been in Kazakhstan's capital city though; a lone stranger late at night, in quiet darkened streets, with no map and no idea where any hotels were. I haven’t felt so vulnerable for a long time, I'm normally quite blase about such things. It isn’t the same on a bike, but even then I avoid arriving in a city at night and trying to find accommodation. It quite unsettled me, and I couldn't work out why, it had a dodgy feel to it. After getting such a negative vibe from a place it can take a while to settle down. I wasn’t prepared to give that time to Almaty, preferring to wallow in the beauty of the Kyrgyz mountains. I have to strike out for Kashgar from Osh, so I’ve two weeks to wind my way through Kyrgyzstan. I feel close to the front line, once I leave the tranquility of the mountains the route is pretty much through areas of ethnic tension, with a lot of recent violence and plenty of deaths. This is in the south of Kyrgyzstan and in Kashgar, though it’s with different ethnic groups, with different targets. First it will be the trouble between Kyrgs and Uzbeks around Osh and Jalalabad, then it’ll be Uigyrs against the Han Chinese dominion of their homeland. I can only hope that trouble will not flare up again, if it does my trip through Tibet will be seriously in jeopardy. (Photo: A slight blip on the horizon - East of Almaty, Kazakhstan)

I’ve had to put in more effort in dealing with the staring. Neither the Kazaks nor the Kyrgs are as amiable to a smile as the Chinese. It’s more like in Mongolia, open staring and complete indifference to whatever I do, a smile or nod does nothing to break this impenetrable barrier. The Russians are no better, they tend to be the arrogant type of Russians. White Russians are common in Central Asia, I guess it’s to be expected. As with any empire, when it collapses in on itself the remnants of power slip away from the invaders, but those that remain don’t seem to adjust very well to this. It makes me wonder why they even bother to stay put. My impression is that they consider themselves a station above the locals. There seems little interaction between the two groups, I’ve not seen any mixed couples together. It seems to be a long way from integration. (Photo: Hot desert crags - East of Almaty, Kazakhstan)

The east of Kazakhstan I can only liken to Mongolia, in all aspects. First of all it was scrubby desert, with sparse grass and low-lying scrub in a bed of fine gravel. It was flat and unbroken, continuing for as far as the eye could see. On the far horizon there was the merest suggestion of hazy hills. Nothing interrupted the emptiness, no buildings, yurts or animals. As the scrub grew thinner, the hills drew closer, other features dotted the scene. An occasional mound rose from the sandy plain, a line of trees lacing across the vista, tracing the course of a riverbed. Maybe these rare waterways spend most the year devoid of water, being the only source of water for many miles there remains enough to sustain the lives of the trees. They don’t look stunted, and at this wettest season of the year they are thick with foliage. The river was bloated with churning, muddy water, while across the plain and over the distant hills the clouds continued to disgorge their abundant load of, bringing fertility to the barren land . (Photo: Lovely layered bluffs - East of Almaty, Kazakhstan)

Changes came thick and fast as the bus trundled on towards Almaty, the coverage of grass and scrub thinned out quickly once the watercourse was left behind. Once more a barren wasteland became dominant. A gritty landscape of sand, broken by successive layered escarpments, first of sand, then behind of ruffled sandstone. It looks unbearably hot and inhospitable, yet a pale green veneer lies over the distant sand; however harsh it looks, life actually exists. The desert areas here are weird, I don’t expect deserts to be totally devoid of life, though neither did I expect the amount of rain that falls in summer here. Like crossing the Gobi, it seems lifeless, incapable of supporting life, and then the heavens open and the deluge begins. Once it stops it goes back to the arid wasteland again, except for the deep rutted quagmires created by man’s machines. Luckily I no longer had to contend with those. (Photo: Heading on to Kyrgyzstan - West of Almaty, Kazakhstan)

(Photo: Plains of plenty - West of Almaty, Kazakhstan)

Many miles of desert passes by, sandy slopes creep up rocky crags, under a bright blue sky. Gradually a more forgiving environment develops! Lush grass stretches to the hills, a broad empty expanse, a sea of green. Even the hills seemed to be rich with vegetation, verdant green encroaching up the slopes. Unlike Mongolia there was a distinct lack of herds or nomads, it appears that a free lifestyle is a thing of the past in Kazakhstan. Giving it a bit of thought it doesn’t come as a surprise, I can’t imagine the Russian regime encouraging nomads to maintain their traditional lifestyle. Numbers haven’t just diminished, I saw no yurts or sign of nomadic life at all, there was also a marked absence of animals grazing. But some form of cultivation was going on, and not just an patch of vegetables for personal use. Combines and tractors could be seen frequently, it was hard to tell what the crop was. The land wasn’t prepared for rice, the use of combines meant it had to be a grain. None was close enough to even have a wild guess, but a harvested field didn’t have the look of wheat stubble. (Photo: Soviet legacy of agriculture rather than a nomadic lifestyle - West of Almaty, Kazakhstan)

Urumqi and surrounding area.

I'm getting out of sync between my writing and the photos. It's nice to look at the images of what I'm describing, at least for me to write, so I assume doubly for people to read. These are all of the days spent with Steve, Leane and friends while in Urumqi. It's a rare occurrence for me to link up again with people I meet travelling, a much appreciated occurrence it was too.

I'll not waste too many words here, it's a waste of everyone's time for me to pour out some boring diatribe simply to fill in the gaps to the photos. So enjoy, I certainly did in their making!

(Photo: Being wowed by the big city skyline - Urumqi, Xinjiang province, China)

(Photo: Dancing in the Peoples park, these were the ballroom posse, things were a bit more exciting over in the jazz corner. - Urumqi, Xinjiang province, China)

(Photo: Kiddies climbing wall, a freebie in The Peoples Park. Many of the kids were hauled up more than climbing under their own steam, but they all enjoyed it and showed no fear - Urumqi, Xinjiang province, China)

(Photo: Traditional drama performed free in the Peoples Park. There was a packed audience, everyone was mesmerised. - Urumqi, Xinjiang province, China)

(Photo: Just outside the city limits, beautiful countryside is not far at all, I can't claim it to be unspoilt, rubbish isn't hard to see; it isn't abundant though - Urumqi, Xinjiang province, China)

(Photo: While the city slickers dig pits for blazing fires and discard their empties, the locals quietly get on with their daily lives, seemingly unperturbed. - Urumqi, Xinjiang province, China)

(Photo: There ain't nothing like a real fire, or two. At least our camp was cleared completely of litter. - Urumqi, Xinjiang province, China)

Bright lights, big city!

So far since leaving Mongolia my route has been Beijing, Langzou, Xi Ning, Vangye, Jiayuguan, Dunguan, Urumqi, Almaty (Kazakhstan) and now Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan. From here I expect to make a circular route around Issy Kul lake, then onto Osh. It's from Osh that I will take a bus through the border crossing at Irkeshtem and onto Kashgar.

The Magoe Caves at Dunhuang were nearly left out, and aren't I glad I didn't. Courtesy of a fellow traveller I was awoken at some ungodly hour to get there early, so thanks Shay (no doubt he'll correct the spelling if he links up with this blog). It was a shame that the caves were only open for guided tours, it could have been more of a shame that we joined in with a Chinese tour rather than wait for a foreign language guide. Our only purpose was to see the caves, also known as the caves of a thousand Buddhas, though there is another by that name so they shouldn't be confused. Obviously we didn't understand a single word of the tour, we also forgot our torches so had to make do with the flash round on the guide's torchlight. the imagery was excellent, thousands of metres of frescoes, and iconography of so many Buddhas. But the caves were dark, photography was banned and viewing was strictly controlled, how naff is that? (Photo: Undisturbed Buddhist caves - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

Considering the average tourist in any country, let alone China, it really isn't bad at all. In fact it's necessary to keep the heritage of countries safe. Flash photography fades frescoes and other such antiquities, of course it shouldn't be allowed with old paintings and statues. Barriers are up to stop people touching anything, and so they should be. When you see the 30m high statue of Buddha, the wonderfully ornate paintwork on his robe, I can't imagine the devastation thousands of hands would have each day if left free to roam. His hems were painted in fine golden Chinese dragons, the edging done in exquisite swirling designs of delicate purple. I agree completely, protect this remarkable heritage, let future generations appreciate the wonders betrothed to us. (Photo: At the Buddhist caves - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

With my eyes finely tuned to the wonders that surround me, my next leg of the journey brought a lot to look at. Initially I marvelled at the level of cultivation, the orderly vineyards stretching over many acres, the concrete post supporting the aged timbers for the vines to grow up. The Cape Gooseberries growing under the shade of the vines, not an inch was wasted. Maize and sunflowers grew in conjunction with the numerous vines, but in lesser numbers, often the maize would be grown around a field of the gooseberries, whether for shade or or shelter from the wind I don't know; maybe it gave some protection from specific pests. I refuse to believe it was random, the Chinese don't do such things for no reason. And with this in mind I must assume that the marginal areas of desert aren't cultivated because the hassle isn't worth the effort. (Photo: Vine growing method - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

From the peripheries of Dunguan the countryside changes abruptly from tight packed cultivated land to open desert in the blink of an eye. This is sandy desert, with few undulations and fewer signs flora. Of the fauna you never know, whilst on our night excursion a small rodent was spotted scurrying around the tents. I also saw a squorpion, a very small sand coloured beast. Having come across such things in the Sinai desesrt I knew them to ve poisonous, but that they weren't deadly; being stung is like catching a severe dose of flu for a few days. I wasn't panicing over one squorpion, though it did cause a few worried outbursts.The desert may look vast and lifeless, it rarely is though. (Photo: Crop method - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

They tend to be large, they are intimidating, they are inhospitable; but for many people they are their lives. However you see them, deserts are seldom the same. And, after a bumpy night's bus ride, I awoke to a completely different desert landscap. This one was much more dynamic, from the roadside to the horizon layer upon layer of shape and colour sizzled under blazing sunshine. We travelled on a road raised off the ancient gritty lake/sea bed. From the flat gravelly bed rose banks of sand, light ochre to brick red, often forming embankments, looking more man made than natural. For me the picture was only complete with the mountains, in staggered formation behind. Always my heart settles when within the grasp of mountain ranges, they make me feel at home, wherever I am. (Photo: Desert scene - Xingjiang Province)

The bus took 30 hrs to reach Urumqi, a journey that was meant top take 24. The views were awesome, I could never tire of them, even if I did feel impatient to meet Steve and Leane again. These are friends from Sri Lanka, we met a few times there; they now teach English in Urumqi, which is very handy for me. Not only would I have a bit of relaxed space for a few days, I could let down my hair a bit. I erased such thoughts from my mind, sat back and enjoyed the view while it lasted. I had the luxury of being met at the bus station, it took a while before Steve got the correct bus station, but I was fine stood around watching the world go by. Tension between the Uigyers and Han Chinese are a bit high in Xinjiang province, there's been some riots in the last few weeks in Kashgar, not long before in Urumqi. People died, these are real riots, with real bullets fired into the crowd, policement died and so did a score of rioters. These folk weren't looting during the riots, they were fighting for their rights; none of them used it as an excuse to rob and pillage. So faced with the prospect of going to Osh and Kashgar I don't see it as particulary dangerous, ethnic tensions are soaring, the military are present in large numbers; I only have to ensure I don't get caught in the crossfire. Where-as in London I could expect some lowlife opportunist to use the riot as a chance to rob me, I know which I'd rather be in. (Photo: Colours of the desert - Xingjiang Province)

Urumqi impressed me, yes you heard me right, stuck in a huge, noisy and crowded city I enjoyed it. It's modern, young and vibrant. Huge towers poke into the heavens, wherever you look the sparkle of chrome and glass glints in the sun. I didn't find them ugly, they are in no way uniform; the architecture is bold and inspiring. Smack bang in the middle is the People's park, meeting point and playground for both young and old. Locals flocked there for recreation time, exercise machines, fairground rides and countless stalls to amuse yourself. Various music played in different sections, here some ballroom, there some jazz; wherever music was to be found so would the dancers. Traditional music was played in many locations, and large crowds gathered for a traditional play with gorgeous costumes and quirky action. Of course I couldn't make out what the hell was going on, and that didn't detract from the experience. And when it goes dark the city lights up, video screens 10m or more high keep folk abreast of the best beauty products, or the best insurance deal; this is modern China, if it's worth having it'll let you know, flashing with bright lights and loud speakers. Our first night on the town I hung out the taxi window, like a country hick, oohing and aahing; it might as well have been Vegas for all I cared. (Photo: Ripples and folds in the desert - Xingjiang Province)

For the weekend we took off from the city to Tia' chin, an area to the north. If I thought it was to be a quick trip to a tourist spot, I was sorely mistaken. It took a fair while for the taxi van to pick us up, they wouldn't let us into the nature area when we arrived because it was too late. I think with a van load of determined tourists, especially whie tourists the chips were stacked in our favour. Whether it has any bearing or not one aspect of the situation made me laugh. While the others were at the barrier, pestering the guards to let us in, I took out my camera. Saying to one guy it could either get me in trouble of work in our favour, I went to snap some pictures of the closed gate and guards, with my friends protesting at our exclusion. I only managed to take one picture and the guard suddenly told us to get in the van and carry on. (Photo: Another desert scene - Xinjiang Province, China)

It may have only been for one night, but the spot was gorgeous. Mind you we had a horrendous climb up a treacherously slippery slope of scree. Having a full pack wasn't good for my knees, carrying much weight for more than a short distance isn't good for them. But I made it, and they didn't give me much grief after; not until the next day anyway. It's funny watching guys trying to play Alpha male, the prime time to experience this is on camping trips or at barbeques. Any one would probably do a good job, but they all try to do it their way at the same time, jumping in and changing what's already been done. We got there as it turned dark, we didn't eat until well past mid-night. Steve and me stood and watched the palaver, they all meant well but it often needs one person to co-ordinate the procedes. The only slight hiccup was from myself, finding it too much that someone dug a second firepit, lit another fire so they could do it their way. It was unnecessary and I felt I had to make that clear. (Photo: Wet relief to one of the hottest regions on earth - Xinjiang Province, China)

As a farewell from the city I had a complete stranger see me having difficulty getting a taxi, when they realised I was likely to be late for my bus they drove me there themselves. That touched me, it's how China has treated me. Whilst many others have found it impersonal, the people rude, I've been helped more times than hindered, raised smiles more than scowls. It depends on your own vibe folks, open up and let the world smile with you.

♫ I've been through the desert on a...♫

Except it wasn't a horse it was a camel; with no name I mean. I had the male, the lead animal, at least on the outward trip. I was gracious enough to swap beasts for the return home when one of the others wanted a change. Rather than follow my initial reluctance, I placed myself in their position, thought how I would have liked a go in the lead position if the situation were reversed, and swapped places graciously. It's not as if I haven't been on a camel ride across the desert before. It was certainly better up front, so why not share the experience? I've dug deep and hard into my psyche to pull myself out of a rut, hopefully the slope is no longer slippery, hopefully I can start dragging myself back up it now.Never under estimate the power of your own mind, it can destroy you utterly; it can also be your saviour. Such little episodes as above may seem so trivial, but they all mount up. I'd let a host of minor annoyances play on my already depleted sate of mind, but it isn't how I want to be. I've largely come away to rediscover the wonderous world we live in, to appreciate how precious life is; it won't happen by dissing everything and being intolerant. Bear in mind that we are the ones in control of our own minds, use that privileged position wisely, or suffer the consequences. My natural tendency to criticise rather than cherish is my undoing, it plagues my inner peace, blinds the eye to the wonder around me, makes me sink into a dark and troubled frame of mind. (Photos: 1] First view of Singing Sands; 2] Before I got the hump - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Once leaving the centre of Dunhuang huge dunes appeared, rearing up from behind the guesthouse, mountains of sand in exquisite contours, in a myriad of subtle shades. Such an awesome background still failed to dwarf the sight that beheld, the beautifully ornate building and courtyard of the hostel. How could I not notice the beauty of it's traditional Chinese design? A porticoed courtyard allows a light and airy space to relax and while away the day. Delicate wooden scrollwork joins the courtyard pillars to the supporting beams; of no practical purpose they serve only to please the eye. Ochre painted woodwork accentuates delicate, sombre oranges and yellows in scrolls, petals, curlicues, and fish scales. Paintings of typical Chinese brushwork grace the main beams, monochrome bamboo, mountain fortresses, roses, and ornate archways sat upon beautiful headlands. Bamboo rafters support a roof of glazed aquamarine tiles, scalloped to protect the edge from water ingress. Entering through iron studded gates corn cobs hang across the arches, drying in the sun. Chinese lanterns illuminate side shelters, silk screen pictures adorn the walls; the place is gorgeous. (Photo: Nothing but sand - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Unfortunately I had little time to appreciate my new abode, with only an hour before the camel excursion my concern was to shit, shower and shave in rapid succession. With barely enough time to shove a plateful of food down my throat I couldn't even indulge in sharing a conversation with the first western folk I've seen since Beijing. Not to worry, I was only going for one night, and with three other Europeans on the excursion, we'd be able to engage in a meaningful conversation in the depths of the Taklamakan desert, while gazing at the Milky Way. (Photo: Razor sharp ridge of sand- Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

(Photo: Every shade of sand, - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Hmmm, It didn't quite turn out the way I assumed. With a Chinese tourist in the group, who obviously had no thoughts of peaceful reflection, of enjoying the perfect stillness of the barren sands, any chance of quiet contemplation went out the window. Shouting out songs at the top of his voice didn't enamour me to our Chinese companion, neither did his advice against taking pictures of the dunes. A graveyard lay scattered as far as the eye could see, filling the foreground, completing a picture of depth and intensity. It brought to mind the absence of life, emphasising the harsh reality of the lifeless terrain before us. Being warned not to take pictures of the graveyard wasn't what I wanted to hear. Superstition isn't in my nature, abiding to that of others goes against the grain somewhat. But away went the camera, I didn't want to cause offence, and with it went my went my spirits. That marked the beginning of a struggle with my own negative demeanour, the singing and constant chatter only added to it. I had envisaged being able to exchange meaningful words with fellow travellers, enjoying the presence of other westerners. Conversation wasn't really the most important aspect of the camel ride though, I'd have been happy with tranquility, I certainly hadn't expected a constant barrage of Mandarin. Unable to do much more than catch his breath between sentences, our Oriental friend talked Chinese non-stop to the guide, taking away any chance to soak in the flavour of the desert. He didn't speak any English, yet dominated the social gathering, to the exclusion of everyone else. It proved a long and not very relaxing night before I gave myself a kind word or two and endeavoured to be more tolerant. It took a walk into the dunes on my own to gather my thoughts, it was sorely needed, I could feel my ire rising. (Photos: 1] Ships of the desert; 2] Living on the fringe - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

All in all the experience was just that, an experience; neither positive nor negative. Too many past experiences can taint the present one if comparisons rule the proceedings. It may be difficult to see everything in a new light, but we shouldn't be ruled by the past. I'm constantly having to remind myself to lighten up, but I do have the self awareness to realise the necessity of this. I've chosen this path of discovery, I need to lift myself out of the mire. I believed travelling would do this, I am all too aware that it's preferable to the existence I'd created at home. There I found myself struggling to appreciate anything life had to offer. Who would chose that type of life over the chance to explore, the opportunity to experience a wealth of new cultures, a host of colourful characters? So that's my aim, wherever I go, however I get there, to keep my eyes open and appreciate what confronts me. it won't always be easy, but that's the way of life, we must all take the rough with the smooth. (Photos: Food for thought - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Breaching the impenetrable wall!

Floundering, through life, through my travels, what can be inspirational about that? When once I stood proud and firm now I dither, uncertain of what to do and how to do it. When those around me see me as exemplary I falter, when you admire, I despair. How I yearn for those days, that time when I soared the peaks of the American wilderness, riven in two, yet living life with every ounce of my being. How magnificent the simplest of nature’s gifts, how beautiful, how precious every minute of life became. Time is the great healer everybody assured me, yet it doesn’t heal the wounds, it doesn’t bring back that which matters most, it merely deadens the feelings. And so with four years gone life goes on, but what quality is that life? Feck all, absolutely feck all! Take what you may from me, strike me with whatever curse you see fit, but give me but a minute of that previous life, give me but one moment to savour that which I have lost. (Photo: Ravine at the end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

Why should we want to lose that strength of feeling, who would want to lose the depth of love that meant so much? None of us do, yet we kid ourselves that all is well, that life goes on. It may well do, but what is life if it is valueless? What worth does it have if it is meaningless? My biggest fear is becoming a sad lonely old man, it doesn’t matter where I am, what adventure I kid myself I’m having, I’m still on my own. So many countries, so many previous adventures I relished being there alone, living life to the fullest. And now, no matter where I go, who I encounter, the experience is empty. Not wasted, never deplete, but alone and empty. I tire of being so, I hunger to share the pleasures and hardships of living as I once did with my son. None will ever replace him, no-one ever could, yet something, somehow to give it all meaning would help. I don’t ask for a miracle, I don’t wish for electronic love, I know I can no longer have my son, but please can’t I have something worthwhile. (Photo: Reconstruction of battle encampment - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

(Photo: Reconstructed end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

I know how lucky people think I am, and what person with travel in their heart wouldn’t, unless I drop the bombshell of losing Cai. That makes people think twice. It seldom happens though, I prefer to meet people and allow them the pleasure of seeing me as fortunate, not as a sad and broken man. Having tried to give balance to my observations, I now find myself in a position where I feel the criticism is taking over, that nothing is good enough. That’s not right, or desirable. I need to dig deeper, or so the initial thought dictates. Actually I need to lighten up, to let go the constant critique, allow the pleasure of life to enter my soul. And so I now undertake a new challenge, to make this journey worthwhile. My eyes have remained fully open, but my heart has formed an impenetrable barrier around it, fending off further hurt. This action in itself is the cause of where I’m at within myself, I must be brave and open up to the beauty and goodness in life; there is so much there, if I only allow myself to feel it. (Photo: Reconstructed end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

No longer as adamant about fending off approaches by people who may be touting for tourist dollars, I find more opportunities can actually come my way. It can be a fine balance, some people are very persistent, and these are often the one’s to avoid. Pushiness appals me, I won’t tolerate it, but no longer will I be rude, just persistent in my refusal to comply. Sometimes I drop my guard, and sometimes I’m right to do so. Arriving at a busy transit point where unable to read any signs, understand the simplest information, it confusing and it obviously shows in my demeanour. This is new for me, it leaves me vulnerable, and people pick up on it. But I have in the past allowed a rickshaw or taxi driver to take me to a hotel, for a nominal fee, I always reserve the right to refuse. Twice now in China I forsaken that right, I’ve not bothered to argue over a higher class of hotel than I envisaged, insisting on a lower budget alternative. Both times the hotels were actually quite nice, and a heavy discount from their advertised rate was given. The first I wrote about in my last blog entry, in Jia Yu Guan the circumstances were similar, the hotel looked lush and was only £25 a night. I was a bit disappointed once booked in, for a start the room hadn’t been cleaned after the last guests, which wasn’t a good start for the staff. In all honesty though, the staff were beside themselves when I summoned them into my room and pointed it out. (Photo: Reconstructed end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

Also in Jia Yu Gaun a restaurant owner started to chastise me for not ordering food for my driver too. I knew what she meant, but I wasn’t playing the game. Stating simply that I didn’t understand, she continued. The driver understood a little English, when I reiterated that no matter how fast and furious she spoke to me I could not understand a single word of it. And with this I turned round to him and asked what the problem was, also whether he was not eating as well. Whatever he said to her did the, she instantly changed and was all smiles and respect to me. They both hovered and seemed keen to know whether the food was to my liking. My words must have contradicted my actions, the Chinese find it polite to slurp and eat as noisily as possible, it shows appreciation of the food. It must have been obvious though, I devoured everything in double quick time, despite using chopsticks. When finished she was ecstatic with me, overjoyed, pumping my hand manically with an inane grin on her face. My assumption was the driver had pointed out that I was an ignorant foreigner, who didn’t understand the polite custom of feeding your driver too. If that was the case she would have lost face by chastising me so furiously when I knew no better, I was insulting only in my innocence. (Photo: Guan City Fortress - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

Clearly I’ve been taking the easy way to tour the tourist sights in the last few places I’ve visited. By doing so I’ve felt more relaxed, less hassled, and saved a lot of energy. I normally deplore the habit converting local currency into pound sterling, it makes everything sound much cheaper. But China is hard enough anyway, I’d done it the hard way since arriving, it tired me out. In reality £14 is a lot of money for a Chinese taxi driver. For me it is more than worth the price to be driven all day, from one site to another, in relative comfort. I saved enough energy to enjoy the sites I saw, though even that way I was shattered by the end of a very hot and long day. Six and a half hours of being chauffeured around was worth it alone, to be taken to buy my onward ticket, therefore shown where the bust station was and ensured I had the right ticket for the right destination was invaluable. I could rest assured the following day would not start with any complications. And sure enough, all I had to do was show my bus ticket to a different taxi driver and he knew exactly where to take me. (Photo: Tourists dressing up for a photo shoot- Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

So I don’t really begrudge the expense of biting into mainstream tourism. As a back packer, carting my heavy rucksack around in the scorching sun, it’s not pleasant. I don’t want to traipse the streets so burdened, looking for a hotel that might take a foreigner. For one thing it gives my knees grief, for another I want to enjoy this experience.