tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-299687682024-03-07T04:06:29.561-05:00ye-travels.org: Yann & Emilie's travelsYann Lamontagne and Emilie Richer's travelsYandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12717601508498406428noreply@blogger.comBlogger224125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-59128263056826199652014-05-29T14:34:00.000-04:002014-05-29T14:34:48.562-04:00An Unexpected End <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
Before my parents arrived to meet us in Southeast Asia, Yann and I had already been discussing our onward travel plans for several weeks. We settled on Sumatra and even got our visas in George Town. But as the heat beat down on us day after day, our keenness for two months of the same climate had waned significantly. By the time we had reached Singapore, we both agreed that we wanted to ride somewhere cooler. Several options were suggested, but we eventually settled on a fairly inexpensive flight to San Francisco. From there we thought we would ride up the coast to Vancouver and make our way across the Canadian Rockies as spring set in.
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We flew with China Eastern Airlines, which, despite serving absolutely disgusting food, didn't charge us anything to transport our bicycles! As usual, our inexpensive flight was accompanied with a long layover. We spent 12 hours sleeping at the Shanghai Airport before boarding our connection. We arrived in San Francisco in the morning, found the "bike assembly station" at the airport and began the bag organization/bike reassembly process. It took Yann almost 4 hours to put the bikes together, but we were able to conveniently ride out from the airport on a bicycle path! If only all airports were so bike-friendly.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/USA/Northern-California-Coast/n-BHdfq/i-8TxrzMQ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-8TxrzMQ/0/M/i-8TxrzMQ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Doing his least favourite task at SFO: bike re-assembly </span></span>
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We were hosted by the lovely Martin and Heidi at their equally lovely home in Little Russia. We didn't get much of a chance to visit the city, we were busy stocking up on camping supplies and some warmer clothing than what we had dragged through Asia (we had actually tossed most of what we'd been wearing for the past few months, our cycling shirts were mold-encrusted and our cycling shorts had disintegrated). We still managed to discover the amazing network of bike lanes across the city while we ran our errands. We left the city after two short days, but we were well-fed, well-rested and well-equipped.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/USA/Northern-California-Coast/n-BHdfq/i-9s7n8rL" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-9s7n8rL/0/M/i-9s7n8rL-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Leaving San Francisco </span></span>
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Since my parents visit, we hadn't been on our bikes for nearly a month, so we decided to enjoy the scenery and ride shorter distances every day. We also wanted to slow down so that we wouldn't arrive in Vancouver with snow still on the ground. We hadn't done a huge amount of route planning, and it wasn't until we purchased our map that we realised that the biggest North Coast city after San Francisco had a population of about 35,000 people. Typically, the towns we crossed had populations between 500 and 1000 people. As it was still the cool, rainy spring season, the highway wasn't busy with the hordes of summer tourists. The camp sites were completely deserted. Most nights we were the only campers in huge multi-site state parks. Other than drizzle on a few days, the weather was perfect for cycling and sleeping especially after months of Southeast Asian heat but I was beginning to feel pretty lonely on the empty highway.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/USA/Northern-California-Coast/n-BHdfq/i-ZMKWsMs" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-ZMKWsMs/0/M/i-ZMKWsMs-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> First night of camping at the deserted Samuel P. Taylor State Park</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/USA/Northern-California-Coast/n-BHdfq/i-6kqscbS" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-6kqscbS/0/M/i-6kqscbS-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> North Coast, outside the town of Jenner </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/USA/Northern-California-Coast/n-BHdfq/i-F3XtBQb" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-F3XtBQb/0/M/i-F3XtBQb-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We're the only campers at Stillwater Cove Regional Park </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/USA/Northern-California-Coast/n-BHdfq/i-ZMKWsMs" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-4MNzB7R/0/M/i-4MNzB7R-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> On the way to Gualala </span></span>
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We slowly made our way up the coast until the small town of Gualala where we stopped to re-evaluate our plans. Yann had been complaining about a sharp pain in the back of his knee since getting off the plane in San Francisco. After more than a week, the pain had not subsided at all. He could still cycle, but he had difficulty walking. When he first mentioned the pain I had attributed it to sitting weirdly and had largely ignored his complaints, but it seemed unusual that over a week later he was still in so much pain.
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We checked into a small hotel and called our insurance company to inquire about our coverage in the United States. After describing Yann's symptoms we got the instructions to "go to the hospital immediately", they suspected a blood-clot from the long flight. It was Sunday evening, we were in a town of 500 people, the nearest hospital was a three hour drive away. I felt pretty panicked, I had been totally downplaying Yann's pain to make him feel better, while simultaneously reading about scary blood clots.
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Within minutes of calling 911, the local firemen and paramedics were in the parking lot of our hotel. Yann was pretty embarrassed as they carried him off in a stretcher. Even though his condition was potentially dangerous, he felt fine and the situation seemed somewhat absurd. We ended up at the local clinic, where the doctor concluded (as we already knew), that he'd have to get to a larger hospital where they could perform an ultrasound. The staff were incredibly kind, and even suggested that we load our bicycles and equipment into the ambulance so that we wouldn't be stuck leaving everything behind (we ruled it out pretty quickly though). It took us three hours on the winding highway, backtracking on the route we had ridden over the course of a week. The sheer cliff-side seemed a lot scarier in the dark from the front seat of an ambulance.
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Hospital staff were waiting for Yann when we arrived at the hospital in Santa Rosa. Yann's ultrasound revealed a small blood clot in his leg, but since it was not in a major vein there was no danger of the clot travelling to his heart or lungs. It would just be painful until it would eventually dissolve by itself. We were discharged at midnight, relieved, but in a bit of shock. We had gone from cycling the coast, to sitting in a county hospital hundreds of kilometres away. Exhausted we checked into a hotel and made plans to get back to our bicycles the next day.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/USA/Northern-California-Coast/n-BHdfq/i-ZMKWsMs" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-pwKQJt2/0/M/i-pwKQJt2-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Last photo of the trip, sitting in Gualala waiting for the bus to San Francisco </span></span>
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It took a full day of public transport to get is back to Gualala where we spent another night. We had already made the decision that this would mark the end of our trip. We were tired and unenthusiastic and Yann was still in a lot of pain. We felt it was the right time to head home, about 6 weeks earlier than we had originally planned. It wasn't a particularly difficult decision, although it did feel like a pretty disappointing finish line. We travelled back to San Francisco, the fourth time on the same stretch of highway. A series of public buses connected us to the airport and we arrived in snow-covered Ottawa the next day, with our relieved family waiting for us.
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Stats for SFO to Gualala, California: <br />
<iframe src="//ridewithgps.com/routes/4867341/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Days of cycling: 5 <br />
Days of rest: 3 <br />
Kilometres cycled: 237 <br />
Metres climbed: 2916 <br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
</div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-24589633928548418002014-04-18T12:31:00.000-04:002014-04-18T12:31:18.044-04:00Malaysia and Singapore with Parents<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Malaysia/Cameron-Highlands/i-XHtdNg6" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Malaysia/Cameron-Highlands/i-XHtdNg6/0/M/EMR_2082-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
My parents (Jean and Susan) braved 22 hours of flying to meet up with us for a two-and-a-half week tour of Malaysia and Singapore. Despite the 35 degree weather they were epic troopers, never turning down an activity and always bouncing along with more energy than Yann and me. Among many things, they enjoyed closet-sized dorm rooms (with broken air-conditioning), culinary misadventures, vomit-inducing bus rides and a night train across the country. But there was lots of good stuff too, as you'll see below in the highlights of our sweaty tropical tour!
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My parents landed in Singapore at about midnight and we all went to bed way later after hearing a play-by-play of the nearly disastrous start to the trip. My Dad had been an airport employee's decision away from not being allowed to board his flight out of Ottawa. In a classic Dad move, he had left his bag unattended as he decided to go for a last minute bathroom run. Meanwhile the entire plane (including my Mom) had already boarded the plane. When he returned to find his bag surrounded by security his obliviousness was evident to airport staff as they let him on the plane with only a mild scolding. To further endear himself to fellow passengers, my dad boarded the plane with a gigantic backpack.
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He had been successful in avoiding the checking of his single bag but this had necessitated the wearing of three layers of clothing, including socks. What he wasn't wearing was dangled from his belt or tied around his waist. He arrived in Singapore about an inch thicker. While, in his defence, most of his bag was filled with items that we had requested, the decision to pack three pairs of shoes and only two pairs of underwear was entirely his own.
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<b>Melaka</b>
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Despite the late night arrival, we were off early in the morning to catch a bus into Malaysia where we would spent the next two weeks. Our first destination was Melaka, colonial-era trading post, recently-named UNESCO World Heritage Site and popular weekend getaway for nearby Singaporeans.
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The midday heat was suffocating, but we managed to take in most of the city's sights, relics of the various colonial powers who exchanged control of the port: the Portuguese, Dutch and finally the British.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Malaysia/Melaka/n-67Qpb/i-qB2gGTK" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-qB2gGTK/0/M/i-qB2gGTK-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Being interviewed by local students on a school trip, at the ruins of the Portuguese A Famosa Fort </span></span>
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The real triumph of our time in Melaka was my parents' unbelievable culinary prowess. Our very first dinner in Malaysia was <i>satay celup</i>, a regional form of satay where diners cook their own skewers in a peanut broth. We joined the queue outside the popular <i>Restoran Capitol Satay</i>, along with dozens of locals and visitors. My jet-lagged mother dozed in-and-out of sleep while Yann made sure she didn't topple off her bench into the open sewer that ran across the front of the restaurant. By the time we were seated, we'd been watching the dining experience, and the open sewer, for almost an hour and our satay-eating enthusiasm was waning every so slightly (except Yann who was keener than ever).
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We were first directed to the skewers, where, of the many choices on display, only a handful were recognisable. We returned to our table with our metallic trays, filled with a rather conservative selection of items and waited for a waitress to stir up our bubbling peanut sludge. While tasty, presentation was not a consideration. Nor was service, as the waitress repeatedly came back to stir up our carefully positioned skewers with stern-faced determination.
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Dinner at celebrated <i>Restoran Capitol Satay </i> </span></span>
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On their second night in Southeast Asia, my parents tasted one the region's most questionable of delicacies, the durian fruit. My Mom was the first to agree to the challenge, on the condition that I do it with her. My Dad, not to be outdone, also dove right in while Yann somehow got out of it. Here is part of the experience, captured in two elegant shots. You can see that by the end my Mom didn't think it was all that bad. I remained unconvinced.
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Durian-tasting in Melaka </span></span>
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<b>Kuala Lumpur</b>
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We spent four days in Kuala Lumpur, as we had been warned by Melakans, it was hotter in the capital than it was on the coast. During the day, temperatures rose above 40 degrees, forcing us to seek out indoor air-conditioned locations: the Islamic Arts Museum, the KLCC Aquaria and several of the city's ridiculous, luxury shopping malls. We still spent large portions of our days trudging through the heat yet managing to do a surprising amount including a wonderful cooking class:
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Petronas Towers, Jamek Mosque, KLCC Aquaria, KL Bird Park, Jalan Alor Street, Lazat Cooking School </span></span>
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<b>George Town, Penang Island</b>
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From Kuala Lumpur we booked an overnight train to Butterworth, the mainland stop across the channel from Penang Island. When we bought our tickets at $15 each, I thought they were a great deal, but I somewhat underestimated the inconvenience of a 5:00am arrival. Of the dozen or so people who disembarked in Butterworth, almost all were exhausted looking backpackers. We all shuffled along the walkway to the connected ferry terminal and waited on the cold metal benches until the gates opened half an hour later. Yann and I, having just recently been to George Town, were able to navigate the unlit streets of the old town, getting to our hotel without too many wrong turns. But not without killing a bit of time, stopping for what was now our usual breakfast, fresh <i>roti canai</i> and Malaysian coffee, at one of the country's ubiquitous 24-hour Indian-Malay restaurants.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/George-Town/i-w9scNKt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/George-Town/i-w9scNKt/0/M/EMR_1670-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Who wants bacon and eggs when you can have <i>roti canai</i> ?! </span></span>
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Our pace didn't slow down in George Town (nor did the temperature drop). We hit all the major sights, the popular street food vendors, the street art trail, the Chinese clan houses and jetties, the funicular to Penang Hill and the enormous and stranger Chinese Temple, <i>Kek Lok Si</i>. My Mom even talked her way into a Malaysian court room while we visited the British-era Penang Supreme Courthouse (the rest of us were excluded due to our too casual appearance).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/George-Town/i-bSq9BVQ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/George-Town/i-bSq9BVQ/0/M/YL0_2966-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Posing with one of the George Town's most popular art installations </span></span>
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<b>The Cameron Highlands</b>
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We ended our two weeks in Malaysia in the Cameron Highlands, 1400 metres higher and 15-20 degrees cooler than anywhere else we'd been in the country. Admittedly, unless you're really into trekking, there isn't a huge amount of stuff to do, and the towns are ugly. But no one cares because of the lovely natural surroundings and the cool weather! On the weekends, tourists flock to the highlands and the single-lane highway is backed up for kilometres. We joined the masses on an organized tour of the local attractions the highlight being the spectacular tea plantations. We also made a valiant attempt at a self-guided trek, with my Dad leading the way and my Mom openly plotting a mutiny.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cameron-Highlands/i-5wzZDnm" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cameron-Highlands/i-5wzZDnm/0/M/%5BGroup%201%5D-YL0_2970_YL0_2974-5%20images-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The Boh Tea Company's plantations viewed from the balcony of their restaurant </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cameron-Highlands/i-X6XnsRr" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cameron-Highlands/i-X6XnsRr/0/M/EMR_2078-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> No more hikes for Susan and Emilie, just freshly-baked scones from the <i>Lord's Cafe</i> in Tanah Rata </span></span>
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It took us almost 12 hours to get from the Cameron Highlands to Singapore. The highway down from the mountains was too much for my Mom to handle from the back seat of our speeding mini-van. Despite preventative <i>Gravol</i>, she was on the side of the highway vomiting before very long. The front seat was graciously given up, allowing us to continue without another stop, but the driver didn't seem to understand that by accelerating and slamming on the brakes through every turn he wasn't helping the situation.
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We made it to Kuala Lumpur from where we planned to catch an onward bus. There was a bit of confusion about where we should be getting off and as we unloaded our bags from the mini-van, our driver grumpily ordered us to get back in when he understood that we were heading to Singapore. I wasn't entirely trusting of our driver, from what I had researched there were no direct buses from downtown Kuala Lumpur to Singapore. We reluctantly re-entered the mini-van where my Dad found his wallet on the seat! The relief of not losing that wallet made up for the subsequent madness.
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We were roped onto an illegally-operating bus, boarding from a street corner as staff kept a look out for police. We had been sold fake tickets from an official counter working in partnership with the rogue bus company. My Mom got into a fight with another passenger over the seats that we had been promised by the fake ticket sellers, and we were dropped off in Johor Bahru despite purchasing tickets to Singapore. When we complained the driver bought us tickets for the public bus to Singapore and sent us on our way. Yann and I were furious, my Mom was having great fun, and my Dad was happily convinced that we were paying the price for finding his wallet.
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<b>Singapore</b>
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Finally arriving in Singapore, we were ripped off by our cab driver, the air-conditioning in our tiny dorm room ceased functioning at midnight, and the robotic voice at the subway entrance outside our window repeated it's warning every 30 seconds, all night. Things picked up the next day. The hostel refunded our money and we settled into a new hotel.
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We spent three days exploring Singapore, a modern and orderly city, especially in contrast with Malaysia. Of all the sights we took in: the Singapore Zoo, the Gardens by the Bay, Orchard Road, the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple, Marina Bay Sands, Chinatown, Kampong Glam two things stood out as highlights: drinks with a view from the 33rd floor balcony of a Marina Bay restaurant and sipping on over-priced Singapore Slings at the Long Bar of the Raffles Hotel, site of the drink's invention. The latter, top item on my Mom's to-do list, was a perfect end to our holiday.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Singapore/Singapore/i-4fbR3Xj" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Singapore/Singapore/i-4fbR3Xj/0/M/%5BGroup%205%5D-EMR_2169_EMR_2175-7%20images-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> View from the balcony of <i>Level33 Restaurant</i> in Singapore</span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Singapore/Singapore/i-Rcx8MVp
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<br /></div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-69917512008132553082014-03-31T15:24:00.000-04:002014-03-31T15:24:17.803-04:00To Singapore Along Malaysia's West Coast<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
We chose to cycle the more populated west coast of Malaysia and it was a bit rough. We avoided the monsoon on the east, but our ride took us through some of the densest traffic and hottest weather we'd experienced on the road. It wasn't very pleasant.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cycling-Malaysia/n-4jtTN/i-rTp6gGf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-rTp6gGf/0/M/i-rTp6gGf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Yann on one of many stretches of busy Malaysian highway that we couldn't seem to avoid</span></span>
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It took us two days of riding and a short ferry to get to George Town on Penang Island. We actually had a nice little five day holiday in the bustling city, famous for its hawker food. And as a nice surprise we were joined by Margaux and Arif who bused from Kuala Lumpur to spend a few final days with us. We ate a lot and did a more recent activity on the George Town tourist scene: the "Street Art Trail".
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/George-Town-Street-Art/n-LgGjt/i-hLGmjXp" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-hLGmjXp/0/M/i-hLGmjXp-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> George Town's most iconic art installation "Kids on Bicycle" by Ernest Zacharevic</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/George-Town/n-Ds3xW/i-jtvHxfm" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-jtvHxfm/0/M/i-jtvHxfm-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> With Margaux and Arif at art installation "Brother and Sister on Swing" </span></span>
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With Margaux's encouragement, we also tried durian fruit for the first (and last) time. Here is a video of the experience, you can see how gracefully I handled it.
<iframe frameborder="0" scrolling="no" width="600" height="340" src="http://api.smugmug.com/services/embed/3152981119_TxWFGdZ?width=600&height=340&albumId=38177596&albumKey=M5jvVc"></iframe>
We met up with Margaux and Arif one more time in Ipoh, an important Malaysian city at the height of the tin-mining boom at the turn of the 19th century. We had read that it had a certain gritty charm due to its important collection colonial architecture, much of it neglected. We had a fair bit of time before having to meet my parents in Singapore, so we planned for 3 nights in Ipoh. As we rode into the city there seemed to be more grit than there was charm. So we stuck it out for two nights, walked the "Ipoh Heritage Trail" and moved on. Not that there was much improvement until we reached the town of Melaka.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cycling-Malaysia/n-4jtTN/i-f4v2ksq" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-f4v2ksq/0/M/i-f4v2ksq-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our charming Ipoh Hotel neighbourhood </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cycling-Malaysia/n-4jtTN/i-NNhtpFx" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-NNhtpFx/0/M/i-NNhtpFx-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Concubine Lane in Old Ipoh, where rich merchants kept their concubines at the height of the tin mining era</span></span></div>
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We rode from one unfriendly, ugly highway motel to the next. We didn't have a very good Malaysian map, so we ended up on fairly busy highways, none of which had shoulders. We had tried to avoid the high prices and crowds of Chinese New Year but it meant staying in the middle of nowhere with not much to do. We probably should have ridden into the mountains but the temptation of flat riding was too much to overcome. By the time we came into busy tourist destination of Melaka, it was a welcome relief to see the crowds of travellers. We stayed in Melaka for a few days without doing much because we knew we'd be revisiting with my parents.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cycling-Malaysia/n-4jtTN/i-tPdNPXp" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-tPdNPXp/0/M/i-tPdNPXp-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Yann at a lunch stop along the highway</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cycling-Malaysia/n-4jtTN/i-v8nPdGp" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-v8nPdGp/0/M/i-v8nPdGp-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Friendly "no trespassing" sign frequently spotted at palm oil plantations</span></span>
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We had one last 3-day push to get to Singapore including a long 130km day. No climbing but high temperatures and crazy traffic as we approached the city of Johor Bahru connected to Singapore by the Woodlands Causeway. The big event was hitting the 10,000km mark outside the town of Pontian in the middle of nowhere. We took photos but didn't pick out a celebratory treat until a few days later when we bought a caramel donut in Johor Bahru.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Malaysia/Cycling-Malaysia/n-4jtTN/i-gpdGbBj" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-gpdGbBj/0/M/i-gpdGbBj-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Hitting the 10,000km mark - somewhere between Muar and Pontian</span></span></div>
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After many weeks of heat and highway we couldn't have been happier to arrive at fellow cyclist Rajiv's apartment in Singapore where we would relax for a few days before my parents' arrival and a two week break from cycling.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Singapore/Singapore/n-9BS3z/i-f4TxK2c" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-f4TxK2c/0/M/i-f4TxK2c-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> With our host Rajiv on a tour of Singapore</span></span>
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We've been cycling in South-East Asia for almost 5 months and our tolerance for heat and crowds is definitely at its breaking point, so after much deliberation we booked flights to San Francisco where the next part of our journey will begin.
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<iframe src="//ridewithgps.com/trips/2228497/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Stats for Thale Ban National Park (Malaysian Border) to Singapore:<br />
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Days of cycling: 12 <br />
Days of rest: 14 <br />
Kilometres cycled: 1006<br />
Metres climbed: 4000<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 7 <br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
<br /></div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-60461542327736285882014-02-08T06:42:00.000-05:002014-02-08T06:46:51.598-05:00Across Thailand for the Holidays<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
Before setting out towards Bangkok we spent a day resting at Yun's place in Mae Sot. We had intended to do some touring around the area but I didn't feel well and slept for most of the day. When I woke up in the afternoon I discovered Yann, Yun and another friend Toon working away at my bicycle which had been completely disassembled and spread across the yard. The three of them spent the entire day cleaning and tuning up our bicycles. I can't say that Yann looked entirely in control of the situation, but everything worked out!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-BNM5Hsh" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-BNM5Hsh/0/M/i-BNM5Hsh-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Yann and Toon working away at our bikes</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-ZdsM9VD" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-ZdsM9VD/0/M/i-ZdsM9VD-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The mechanics after a long day of work: Yun, Yann and Toon</span></span></div>
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We left the next day, on a Saturday, so Yun and Toon were able to ride with us. The climb wasn't any easier leaving Mae Sot then it was in the other direciton, especially with our Thai friends setting the pace. They accompanied us to the top of the mountains separating the cities of Mae Sot and Tak where we camped at an isolated forest ranger station. It was a beautiful spot and a nice way to end our time with our new friends who had housed us, fed us and even took apart and cleaned our bicycles!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-Zvb2HGf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Zvb2HGf/0/M/i-Zvb2HGf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Campsite at Doi Muser</span></span>
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Our next week of riding across central Thailand was almost too easy. We had a tailwind the entire time and stuck to the main, (extremely flat) highway. We were on our way to Bangkok where we had a date to meet my cousin Margaux and her boyfriend Arif for Christmas. The ride wasn't very beautiful, but it was relatively effortless. Since we were making such good time, we felt pretty content despite the utterly uninspiring highway riding.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-Kp5tQG2" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Kp5tQG2/0/M/i-Kp5tQG2-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> It doesn't get any flatter than this</span></span>
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Between Mae Sot and Bangkok we broke up the ride in order to visit three historic cities, Kamphaeng Phet, Lopburi and Ayutthaya. All three were interesting, but we were really eager to meet up with Margaux and Arif so we were maybe not the most committed tourists. And the closer we got to the Bangkok the busier were the tourist attractions. We only saw two other tourists in Kamphaeng Phet (also cycle-tourists) and in contrast, Ayutthaya, a popular day-trip from Bangkok had hundreds, if not thousands of visitors.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-pxgzBQk" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-pxgzBQk/0/M/i-pxgzBQk-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The Buddhas of Wat Phra Kaeo, Kampheang Phet Historical Park where we were the only visitors</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-2LncWDz" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-2LncWDz/0/M/i-2LncWDz-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> In Ayutthaya, we waited in line to photograph this famous Buddha at Wat Mahathat </span></span>
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In between the two was Lopburi, famous for its temple monkeys who are served an elaborate feast once a year in a popular festival. We only visited the main temple, Prang Sam Yot and had to be accompanied by a stick-wielding guard for the tour. Despite his presence, a member of our tour group had an earring ripped right out of her ear by a resident monkey. It was definitely more scary than it was cute.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-vPLhb7g" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-vPLhb7g/0/M/i-vPLhb7g-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The three Khmer-style towers of Prang Sam Yot, Lopburi's most famous temple</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-JsJwDqs" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-JsJwDqs/0/M/i-JsJwDqs-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Fighting for food that has just been dumped in a parking lot outside Prang Sam Yot Temple in Lopburi </span></span>
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We were dreading our ride into Bangkok but we rode in on a beautiful Sunday on small back roads with a strong tailwind once again. We knew we had chosen the right route when we were passed by packs of cyclists on their weekend ride. We were told by one of them that it was the coldest Sunday ride he'd ever been on. Amazing! The traffic intensified as we approached the city, but nothing particularly scary. We were probably helped by the anti-government protests that had forced a lot of the downtown traffic to be rerouted leaving the streets around our hotel almost completely empty (also the fact that it was Sunday was probably had something to do with the quiet streets).
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We spent five days, including Christmas, in Bangkok with Margaux and Arif. They had flown in from India to meet up with us and were still recovering from some pretty serious stomach issues when we arrived. So they were not exactly ready for full-out Bangkok touring which was totally fine with us as we were more interested in spending time with them. We did lots of catching up and exchanging stories of travel misadventures (they seemed to have a few more than we did) and while they rested, we were able to run a bunch of errands, the most important of which was tracking down a new back wheel to replace the used one that we bought over 2000km earlier (and was still miraculously intact).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-T98SwfR" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-T98SwfR/0/M/i-T98SwfR-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Christmas in Bangkok! </span></span>
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Happily, by Christmas Day, Margaux and Arif were on the mend and we had an indulgent self-catered dinner on the roof of our hotel. Our menu included most of the things we'd been craving and were too cheap to buy: wine, cheese, olives, roast chicken, baguette, ham, chocolate, gummy bears and cheesecake!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Mae-Sot-to-Bangkok/n-jzVJv/i-TM87jPP" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-TM87jPP/0/M/i-TM87jPP-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Another holiday indulgence: poutine! </span></span>
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For the next few weeks, we made our way south with Margaux and Arif. We rode and they followed along by public transport. We were grateful to have such accommodating travel companions. They took trains, mini-buses, taxis and motorbikes and ended up in a fair number of random destinations.
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Leaving Bangkok, we had four more days of flat, tailwind-assisted riding. Although the ride out of Bangkok was a fairly unpleasant one and considerably worse than the ride in. It took almost 60km before we were able to clear the city traffic and get onto a secondary road. One of the worst riding days of our trip. <br />
<iframe frameborder="0" scrolling="no" width="600" height="340" src="http://api.smugmug.com/services/embed/3005298554_dRrzXrB?width=600&height=360&albumId=35477185&albumKey=m7Z8HX"></iframe>
We met up with Margaux and Arif in Petchaburi and Hua Hin on the way to a beach resort where we were planning a longer rest. We were only in Petchaburi for one evening, not really enough time to visit anything. And we gave ourselves two days in Hua Hin, which was more than enough. We inadvertently booked rooms in the "old gross white man sitting at bars all day neighbourhood" where old gross white men outnumbered other tourists by a ratio of about 10 to 1 and bars outnumbered other business by a similar ratio. The weather was also unusually cold and windy, great for cycling but not so great for the Hua Hin beaches.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-Ks8c8Vt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Ks8c8Vt/0/M/i-Ks8c8Vt-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Trying to keep warm at Khao Takiab Beach, Hua Hin </span></span></div>
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Riding south from Hua Hin we were able to stay off the main highways and had a few really lovely stretches of coastal riding on small back roads before meeting up with Margaux and Arif again at the isolated Sananwan Beach, 240km south of Hua Hin.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-BMqDbwW" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-BMqDbwW/0/M/i-BMqDbwW-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Morning along the Gulf of Thailand, Prachuap Khiri Khan </span></span>
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We spent five days, including New Year's Day vacationing at Sananwan Beach on the Gulf of Thailand, 7km away from the closet village, tiny Bang Saphan Noi. We swam everyday, got massages, ate seafood purchased fresh every morning and polished off 4.5 litres of boxed wine. Renting the guesthouse scooter to go shop at the village was the most active we got. Total rest and relaxation!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-547MmST" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-547MmST/0/M/i-547MmST-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our own private beach, Bang Saphan Noi </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-5HBVTz2" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-5HBVTz2/0/M/i-5HBVTz2-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Taking it easy at Sananwan Beach, Bang Saphan Noi </span></span>
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Margaux and Arif got an extra day at the beach while as we got a head start to Krabi, seven days away. We rode south, then crossed over to the Andaman Coast. The cold spell that we'd been enjoying had passed while we lounged at the beach and it was now hot and 100% humidity. We made our way from one sweaty, musty guesthouse to another, the low point being the discovery of a giant bed bug on my arm one morning. Being in the narrowest part of the country, we were stuck on the national highway, with all the other traffic, for most of the ride. The highway is a few kilometres from the coast so we rarely got a glimpse of the sea except for our few failed attempts at finding budget beach front accommodation. We were tired and relieved when we pulled into our Krabi.
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Krabi is a jumping off point for many of the nearby islands and beaches so transport prices are a bit inflated, but accommodation and food are relatively cheap. We had originally talked of an island getaway, but the high peak season prices kind of turned us off so we ended up staying in town instead. Seeing as our most enjoyable daily activity tends to be eating, this wasn't a bad decision. There were lots of great food options and a huge weekend night market. Food in Thailand has consistently been delicious and the city's dining scene didn't disappoint .
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Margaux and I decided to splurge on a cooking class at nearby Ao Nang Beach, Arif and Yann paid an accompanying fee so that they could watch and eat. The course was fairly basic, but we had fun and our food was delicious, especially our curries. I came out vowing that I would buy a giant mortar and pestle to make my own curry pastes at home. We'll see how that works out.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-rwh8zVr" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-rwh8zVr/0/M/i-rwh8zVr-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Making our own curry pastes at the Thai Charm Cooking School, Ao Nang Beach, Krabi </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-XZBbF5n" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-XZBbF5n/0/M/i-XZBbF5n-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Chicken with cashew nuts by Margaux </span></span>
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After three weeks together, we parted ways with Margaux and Arif whose pace required a bit of acceleration. It was sad to leave them as we had perfected a balance of riding and relaxation while they were around (they were really helping with the relaxation part).
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It took us four days to ride from Krabi to the most western Thai-Malaysian Border. We were no longer in tourist territory, we were in rubber territory. We spent a lot of the time riding through rubber plantations. Locals seemed a lot happier to see us, there was a distinctly more friendly vibe in the area.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-Rtczgc8" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Rtczgc8/0/M/i-Rtczgc8-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Rows of rubber trees in Satun Province on the way to Malaysia</span></span>
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We spent our last night in Thailand camping at Thale Ban National Park, a few kilometres from the border. When we arrived at the head office we were told that we would be joined by over 100 students on a class trip! The incredibly nice staff, who kept saying “it's going to be loud, you should think about it”, as if we had somewhere else to go, offered us a place beside the head ranger's home instead, away from the main campsite. The students only found us the next morning for an extended (and adorable) photo session after which we packed up and made our way into Malaysia.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Bangkok-to-Malaysia/n-gXRL5/i-Kmcp6KB" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Kmcp6KB/0/M/i-Kmcp6KB-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<iframe src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3999647/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Mae Sot to Thale Ban National Park (Malaysian Border) <br />
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Days of cycling: 21 <br />
Days of rest: 16 <br />
Kilometres cycled: 1837<br />
Metres climbed: 9300m<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 7
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
</div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12717601508498406428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-35737879176217497732014-02-02T21:34:00.000-05:002014-02-02T21:34:57.514-05:00Around Mandalay and Hpa-An (Our Last Week in Myanmar)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
We enjoyed Mandalay a lot more than the Lonely Planet would have had us believe. Sure, it's a bit ugly and not exactly what we had pictured, but the downtown core was a pleasant alternative to some of the other popular tourist destinations in the country. The reality is that we probably liked the city so much because of the Indian food stand that set up right in front of our hotel every night and the ice cream parlour a few blocks further down.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-t28fSfN" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-t28fSfN/0/M/i-t28fSfN-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our favourite dinner spot, across the street from the ET Hotel in Mandalay </span></span>
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Despite multiple touts hanging around our hotel ready to take us on a motorbike tour around Mandalay, we opted to do the 60km loop on our own. This involved a fair bit of city riding, navigating crazy four-way intersections with no traffic lights, and an equal amount of ugly highway riding. The rest of our day, thankfully, was spent on the quiet countryside visiting two of Myanmar's former capital cities: Inwa and Amarapura.
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We started the day in Mandalay, stopping at a gold-pounding workshop where we watched the traditional gold-leaf making process. Young sweaty men hammer away at sheets of gold, their shifts timed with coconut shell water-clocks (when the shell fills with water and sinks it marks the end of a shift). Women sit in a nearby room counting and packaging the sheets of gold leaf for distribution.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-ftHtrnq" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-ftHtrnq/0/M/i-ftHtrnq-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Gold pounders hard at work </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-k5ND4jQ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-k5ND4jQ/0/M/i-k5ND4jQ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The finished product, sheets of gold leaf, are counted out and packaged for distribution to temples around the country </span></span>
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We then rode over to the Mahamuni Buddha Temple nearby (where much of the gold-leaf appears to be consumed). Over the years, male devotees have applied a layer of gold-leaf over 15cm thick to the Buddha image. Women can watch the gold-leaf application from an adjoining hall. We weren't motivated enough to wake up for the 4:30a.m. daily tooth-brushing and face washing ritual of the Buddha image.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-T7wDD2m" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-T7wDD2m/0/M/i-T7wDD2m-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Men applying gold leaf to the Mahamuni Buddha (note the bumpy areas where gold leaf is applied) </span></span>
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In the afternoon we made our way to Inwa, taking a small ferry across the Myitnge River. With no guidebook, we didn't know what we were supposed to see, so we started by following the horse-drawn carriages that whisk tourists from sight to sight. We abandoned this plan after riding to Inwa's most famous teak monastery in a cloud of dust and arriving with a huge group of tourists and touts. We set off on our own and enjoyed the car-free dirt roads, coming across a few crumbling pagodas and small teak monasteries before ending up at the impressive Maha Augmye Bonzan Monastery, constructed in untraditional brick and stucco (also known as the Brick Monastery).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-5D7TZQs" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-5D7TZQs/0/M/i-5D7TZQs-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Inwa is virtually car-free </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-JzfV9TV" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-JzfV9TV/0/M/i-JzfV9TV-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Maha Aungmye Bonzan Monastery (Brick Monastery) at Inwa </span></span>
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We ended the day in Amarapura, site of the U-Bein Bridge, the longest teak bridge in the world at 1.2 kilometers. It is immensely popular with tourists and is at its most busy at dusk. We still thought it was wonderful.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-mz2r2mn" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-mz2r2mn/0/M/i-mz2r2mn-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our bicycles under the U-Bein Bridge, Amarapura </span></span>
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Still hoping to cycle across Kayin State back into Thailand, we only stayed in Mandalay two nights before catching our third overnight bus, this one to Hpa-An. We had originally planned to partially cycle there from a city about 200km away, but with less than a week left on our visas we decided we were being too ambitious.
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When we arrived in Hpa-An we found that the blue skies of a few weeks earlier had been replaced with a thick smog from the burning of surrounding fields. The area was not exactly at its best for visiting nor were the conditions ideal for cycling. Despite our disappointment with the weather, we cycled a 75km loop around the countryside after which we concluded we would be taking a bus over the mountain to Thailand.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Hpa-An/n-SN3N9/i-9nKxcz9" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-9nKxcz9/0/M/i-9nKxcz9-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> On the way to Saddar Cave, outside Hpa-An </span></span>
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We started the day by riding to Saddar Cave. It took us 40km to get there, even though it's only 20km away, so I was grumpy. I was in a better mood once we got un-lost. The cave is immense and we had been warned of total darkness and floors covered in bat poop. Apparently it's seen an upgrade since the last guidebook write-up and there is now a string of light bulbs lining the several kilometre long path through the cave. It is slippery and shoes are prohibited but the cause of the slipperyness seemed to be condensation and not bat poop, so we were relieved. We didn't make it all the way to the end, we were pretty caved-out after about half an hour of slowly scrambling our way through.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay/n-PQcRh/i-JzfV9TV" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Fv64fT8/0/M/i-Fv64fT8-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Light shining in through the entrance of Saddar Cave </span></span>
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We spent the afternoon riding through small villages which would have been even more picturesque had the surrounding karst scenery not been obscured with smog. We stopped at the kitschy but fun Kawt-Ka-Thaung Cave amidst a sort of “Buddha theme park” complex, complete with statues, a swimming hole, restaurants and a maze. The highlight of the day was stumbling upon a rowdy procession making their way to a village temple. It was hard to miss, you could hear the music from miles away and traffic was backed up along the highway. We joined the crowd of onlookers as groups of costumed,skinnyjeans-clad young men, danced their way to the temple accompanied by trucks blaring techno music from their piles of speakers. <br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="340" scrolling="no" src="http://api.smugmug.com/services/embed/2974505049_dxd7zpm?width=600&height=340&albumId=35477076&albumKey=v6L24v" width="600"></iframe>
We were lucky to meet another traveller in Hpa-An who agreed to share a taxi with us to the Thai border. He had local contacts and organized everything, including finding a taxi with a roof rack. All we had to do was show up at his hotel on the morning of departure. The ride was slightly more comfortable than when we came in by bus, but it was still slow and the road incredibly busy. Amazingly we crossed three cyclists making their way over the mountain, against the one-way traffic. Tougher than us.
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Back in Thailand we headed straight for the border market to our friend Yun's stall where we found his wife closing up for the day. We hadn't had access to internet for days, so we hadn't been able to warn anyone of our arrival. Despite our surprise appearance, we were once again warmly welcomed to her family's home in Mae Sot. Everyone was happy to hear of our adventures in Myanmar and we were equally happy to be back.
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Stats for Mandalay and Hpa-An:
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Days of cycling: 2 <br />
Days of rest: 3 <br />
Kilometres cycled: 132 <br />
Metres climbed: 638 <br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 5 <br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
</div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-66903493221287229192014-01-27T01:13:00.000-05:002014-01-27T01:13:39.030-05:00Escaping Inle Lake <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The main tourist hub for Inle Lake is the town of Nyaung Shwe, connected to the lake by a river channel a few kilometres long. That's where we stayed, joining the hundreds of other visitors that were already packed into the little town. We settled into the Gypsy Inn, a friendly and budget guesthouse right next to the main boat pier after visiting several places whose rates did not match the quality of their rooms
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It was hard for us to get into the Inle Lake experience. Most of the lake's attractions cannot be visited independently and require transportation by boat. Boat rental is inexpensive but tours consist mainly of visits to souvenir shops disguised as tourist attractions. With no obvious alternatives we hired a boat for a day tour. We did our best to enjoy the sights that really were incredible, and disregard those that weren't so. Most of the sights were a weird artificial recreation of traditional industries but a few seemingly more genuine aspects of lake life were the highlights of our tour. We've listed them below:
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Early Morning on the Lake
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Riding along on the open lake at sunrise is probably the only thing that we would suggest not to miss at Inle Lake.
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Inle-Lake/n-6tww5/i-nGtSbj5" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-nGtSbj5/0/M/i-nGtSbj5-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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Nampan Village Market
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Requesting that our tour start an hour earlier than suggested, we arrived at the bustling market before the tourist masses. We've seen lots of markets, but this one was particularly good, especially all the tasty snacks!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Inle-Lake/n-6tww5/i-XGdBJr3" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-XGdBJr3/0/M/i-XGdBJr3-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Adorable fish seller at the Nampan market</span></span></div>
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Tour of a Blacksmith Shop
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This would have been a standard tourist trap, but the blacksmith lit up when Yann asked to see the machinery used to make boat parts. He brought us to a messy, metal scrap covered workshop, away from the souvenir shop. One single machine tool incredibly serves the entire lake. The blacksmith rather cheerfully complained of its age and inefficiency.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Inle-Lake/n-6tww5/i-jcn8gW7" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-jcn8gW7/0/M/i-jcn8gW7-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A forging demonstration for tourists</span></span></div>
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Tea at our Boatdriver's Home
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Meeting our boat driver's father and son and seeing their family home in a traditional floating village was an unexpected treat. When his son spotted us arriving, he sped over in his teak canoe, showing off his skills at the unbelievable one-leg paddling.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Inle-Lake/n-6tww5/i-bKXnVf9" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-bKXnVf9/0/M/i-bKXnVf9-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our Inle Lake boatdriver </span></span>
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Inle-Lake/n-6tww5/i-SmFLLT5" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-SmFLLT5/0/M/i-SmFLLT5-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"></span>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our boatdriver's son and father seeing us off</span></span></div>
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The Fishermen of Inle Lake
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The tour started with a photo session by two enterprising locals dressed in matching orange wide-leg fisherman's pants using traditional basket nets. Tourist boats lined up for their turn to photograph them in their coordinated routine. That was not a highlight. But watching the real fishermen in the distance, balancing on one leg as they cast their nylon nets, was pretty awesome.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Inle-Lake/n-6tww5/i-JjBTsGN" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-JjBTsGN/0/M/i-JjBTsGN-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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In contrast to Inle Lake, our next few days of riding across the Shan Plateau were the least-touristy of our trip through the country. We rode first to Pindaya, famous for its huge cave temples, filled with thousands of golden Buddhas. The town itself is centred on a pretty lake and didn't seem to have as many visitors as we felt it deserved.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Inle-Lake/n-6tww5/i-JjBTsGN" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-RdqGTQN/0/M/i-RdqGTQN-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Inside the Pindaya cave temples </span></span>
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From Pindaya, we made our way towards the small town of Ywangan and met no more tourists until Mandalay. The road didn't even appear on our GPS. We were alone, riding across the fertile plateau, through a colourful patchworks of various crops. It was cabbage harvest season and we passed dozens of oxcarts, piled with perfectly balanced rows of cabbages. Villagers waved from the fields as we rode by. It was so lovely that we could easily overlook the brutal road conditions that kept our average speed hovering around 10km/hr.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Pindaya-Ywangan-Kyaukse/n-TzXC3/i-9ztDpRf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-9ztDpRf/0/M/i-9ztDpRf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a> <span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The fertile Shan Plateau between Pindaya and Ywangan</span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Pindaya-Ywangan-Kyaukse/n-TzXC3/i-kGGN5Gx" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-kGGN5Gx/0/M/i-kGGN5Gx-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a> <span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> From the fields, to the oxcarts, to the trucks </span></span>
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We had delicious meals at small roadside eateries, usually stopping for a snack anytime we spotted the golden pieces of deep-fried Shan tofu. Made with yellow split peas the local tofu is light, flaky and delicious and very much unlike soy-based tofu.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Pindaya-Ywangan-Kyaukse/n-TzXC3/i-dcj8DPt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-dcj8DPt/0/M/i-dcj8DPt-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A tray of Shan tofu setting in a village home/restaurant </span></span>
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We tackled the epic descent down from the Shan Hills to the plains of Central Myanmar with mixed emotions. Happy for a 1100m descent but sad to be leaving the cool climate and peaceful riding of the Shan Plateau. We didn't have to peddle but the road was so steep and in such terrible condition that we barely averaged 15km/hr. Not quite the reward that we were hoping for after the work it took us to get up!
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Pindaya-Ywangan-Kyaukse/n-TzXC3/i-stHPv52" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-stHPv52/0/M/i-stHPv52-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"></span>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Making our way down from the Shan Hills</span></span></div>
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We could feel the temperature increasing with every metre dropped and we were so grateful that we were not riding in the opposite direction! We finished the last 20km of the day on the blissfully smooth pavement of the Yangon-Mandalay highway and continued the next day along the same road to Mandalay. As it was the best road surface in the country we made sure to enjoy it.
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<iframe src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3950075/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Stats for Nyaung Shwe (Inle Lake) to Mandalay:<br />
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Days of cycling: 4 <br />
Days of rest: 2 <br />
Kilometres cycled: 283 <br />
Metres climbed: 2763 <br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1 organized tour <br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
</div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-77407082992410454572014-01-22T03:42:00.000-05:002014-01-27T01:12:33.529-05:00Up to the Shan Highlands<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
From Bagan, our first destination was Mount Popa, a sacred volcano jutting out from a range of low-lying mountains nearby. Most tourists visit as a day-trip from Bagan, so accommodation is scarce. Sweaty cyclists pulling in to Popa in the late afternoon are easy prey for high room prices. Thirty dollars got us the cheapest room in town, with cold water showers and a rotting piece of foam on a bedframe with most of its slats missing or broken.
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Even though we were tired, we dragged ourselves to the top of the mountain, an additional 5km and 777-step climb away from our hotel. A stairway lined with shrines and temples dedicated to both Buddhist and <i>nat</i> (spirit) worship leads to a monastery at the summit. The stairs are covered with a rickety tin roof that echoed with the sound of the hundreds of bouncing resident monkeys as we made our way up. The tiled stairs are completely covered with monkey excrement and as with all sacred sites in the country, pilgrims must go barefoot. Neither of us were particularly enthusiastic about trudging through monkey urine, but we made our way to the top, facing dozens of mean monkeys who blocked the narrowest parts of the path. The highlight of the visit was Yann getting hissed at when he tried to shoo them away with a squirt from his water bottle. It was an experience, albeit not a very pleasant one.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Bagan-to-Inle-Lake-via-Mount-P/n-Ktc72/i-hWss2c8" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-hWss2c8/0/M/i-hWss2c8-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A Mount Popa temple monkey, ready to pounce at the first sign of food</span></span>
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The next part of our route to Inle Lake wasn't broken up as optimally as we would have liked. Because foreigners are only permitted to stay in government-sanctioned establishments and camping is prohibited, we had few options for overnight stays. We spent our next night in the town of Thazi, 137km from Mount Popa. It was the closest we could get to the base of the Shan Hills and it was a long day of riding to get there. Our next stop was a daunting 1200 metres up and 95km away.
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Thazi is tiny but has two guesthouses due to its strategic location at the intersection of the Yangon-Mandalay highway and the rail line to Inle Lake. Especially in contrast to our Popa hotel, our guesthouse in Thazi, aptly named "Wonderful Guesthouse" was welcoming and great value. The owner proudly showed us her collection of stickers and cards from other cycle-tourists to which we added our own. She even had pre-prepared hand-drawn maps with the distances between the villages and sources of food and water for the next day's climb. We got the impression that mostly cyclists stay in Thazi.
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Following the advice of our guesthouse owner, we left Thazi at sunrise, hoping that we would make it to Kalaw, our destination, before sunset. We did, but just barely, using up all eleven hours of winter daylight.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Bagan-to-Inle-Lake-via-Mount-P/n-Ktc72/i-Jd5Bp55" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Jd5Bp55/0/M/i-Jd5Bp55-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Sunrise breakfast in the town of Thazi</span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Bagan-to-Inle-Lake-via-Mount-P/n-Ktc72/i-cDc4t5r" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-cDc4t5r/0/M/i-cDc4t5r-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Leaving Thazi at day break in order to make it to Kalaw before dark</span></span>
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It was a very tough day. We didn't start the big climb until 65km into the ride, at the hottest time of day. Psychologically it was difficult because we could see how fast we were going (not fast) and we could see that if we didn't keep up a steady pace we would be riding into the night. We rode mostly in silence, with few breaks. Although there were some great views of the Shan Hills along the ride, we were so focused on the climb that we rarely stopped to take them in. We were hungry, sore and really really happy when we pulled into town. The relief that you feel after finishing a day like this one almost makes the pain worthwhile.
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We stayed in Kalaw, a former British hill station, for an extra day to rest our legs and take advantage of the cool weather. It was a nice place to relax, scenic with a few decent food options. It was also small and there were few things to do, so we didn't feel guilty about doing nothing.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Kalaw/n-k4v3V/i-9KfF7Sn" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-9KfF7Sn/0/M/i-9KfF7Sn-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Downtown Kalaw by day </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Kalaw/n-k4v3V/i-2mfQQBK" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-2mfQQBK/0/M/i-2mfQQBK-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Downtown Kalaw by night, note the absence of street lights </span></span>
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By chance, our last morning in Kalaw coincided with the rotating-market day. The town centre was completely transformed, streets bursting with vendors from neighbouring villages. We happily wandered around for an hour or so, before starting our downhill ride to Inle Lake, leaving as the market was getting busy enough that we were getting in the way (and right when the tour buses rolled in).
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Kalaw/n-k4v3V/i-Czv7vxz" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Czv7vxz/0/M/i-Czv7vxz-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"></span>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Peeling garlic, market day, Kalaw</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Kalaw/n-k4v3V/i-J3CdDnf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-J3CdDnf/0/M/i-J3CdDnf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Market day, Kalaw </span></span>
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<iframe src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3942628/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Stats for Nyaung U (Bagan) to Nyaung Shwe (Inle Lake):<br />
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Days of cycling: 4 <br />
Days of rest: 1 <br />
Kilometres cycled: 357 <br />
Metres climbed: 3424 <br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1 independent + 1 organized tour <br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
</div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-83260158842750271602014-01-07T07:27:00.002-05:002014-01-07T07:27:42.760-05:00Exploring the Temples of Bagan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
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<a http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay-to-Bagan-via-Myingyan/n-zsC52/i-LNtczbH" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-LNtczbH/0/M/i-LNtczbH-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 5:00am arrival in Mandalay, getting ready to start riding</span></span>
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We began our cycling in Myanmar with two days of riding across the country's central plains. After a small section of highway leaving the Mandalay bus station (where we'd just arrived after an overnight bus ride from Yangon), we were soon following rural roads where the little traffic was mostly made up of motorcycles.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay-to-Bagan-via-Myingyan/n-zsC52/i-dpHwt63" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-dpHwt63/0/M/i-dpHwt63-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Traffic jam between Mandalay and Myingyan</span></span>
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The paved roads were in deceptively bad condition, extremely uneven and despite largely flat terrain and no wind, we struggled to maintain a decent pace. With the rainy season passed, we were grateful for the little villages where banyan trees lined the road and provided respite from the otherwise shadeless, hot, and dusty setting.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay-to-Bagan-via-Myingyan/n-zsC52/i-V8qk9rf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-V8qk9rf/0/M/i-V8qk9rf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Riding across one of several sections of road covered in sand</span></span>
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The food options were pretty limited on this stretch of road, but the roadside meals that we tracked down were cheap and delicious, our favourite being the coconut donuts fresh out of the fryer.
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Truthfully, the most pleasant part of the riding, by far, was interacting with locals. We were constantly met with smiles and <i>mengalabars</i> (hellos), children would run to the road where they would line up to greet us.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay-to-Bagan-via-Myingyan/n-zsC52/i-Rxf4CQS" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Rxf4CQS/0/M/i-Rxf4CQS-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
We broke up the ride with an overnight in Myingyan, a non-descript town where only cyclists would have any reason to stay. We were definitely the only foreign tourists in town.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Mandalay-to-Bagan-via-Myingyan/n-zsC52/i-z7Q9bBs" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-z7Q9bBs/0/M/i-z7Q9bBs-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Breakfast at a Myingyan teashop </span></span>
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In contrast, when we arrived in Bagan we found it to be completely crawling with tourists. Thankfully there are thousands of temples dotting the Bagan Plains so there is plenty of opportunity for quiet exploration. We spent several afternoons on the narrow sandy trails, far more suited to oxcart travel than anything else (including bicycles).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Temples-of-Bagan/n-f2vX3/i-gkHFLTf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-gkHFLTf/0/M/i-gkHFLTf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Cycling past Thambula Paya, South Plain </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Temples-of-Bagan/n-f2vX3/i-fmNDTSt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-fmNDTSt/0/M/i-fmNDTSt-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Peanut harvesting, South Plain </span></span>
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Any of the temples accessible by tour bus were overrun, with both tourists and souvenir hawkers (and tour buses did not hesitate to ride on the tiniest of roads). The sunset viewing spots were particularly terrible and after various attempts at finding a “spectacular view” we realised that it was much more pleasant to avoid any of the places recommended in the guidebooks.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Temples-of-Bagan/n-f2vX3/i-fGnQ3Kz" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-fGnQ3Kz/0/M/i-fGnQ3Kz-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Tourists waiting for the sunset at the famous Shwesandan Temple </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Temples-of-Bagan/n-f2vX3/i-ptxrgZN" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-ptxrgZN/0/M/i-ptxrgZN-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We watched the sunset standing in a field instead </span></span>
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It was so hot during the day that we did our touring in the early mornings and the late afternoons with a nice long break in between. We were enjoying our daily routine until our third night when Yann was up all night with a nice case of food poisoning (punishment for eating Chinese food at an Italian restaurant in Myanmar).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Temples-of-Bagan/n-f2vX3#!i=3001166534&k=x4NrcFZ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-x4NrcFZ/0/M/i-x4NrcFZ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Lesson learned: stick to local delicacies </span></span>
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We extended our stay in Bagan by a day as Yann was unfit for temple viewing, let alone cycling. While Yann slept for two days I set out by myself, still hoping but failing to visit everything on my list. Yann's list was significantly shorter, so other than feeling like shit, he wasn't too disappointed.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Myanmar/Temples-of-Bagan/n-f2vX3/i-txLCcqG" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-txLCcqG/0/M/i-txLCcqG-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<iframe src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3875333/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Stats for Mandalay to Bagan:<br />
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Days of cycling: 2 (+ 3 days of temple riding)<br />
Days of rest: 2 (sick days for Yann) <br />
Kilometres cycled: 252 <br />
Metres climbed: 1011 <br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-81743830638008426372013-12-29T03:24:00.000-05:002013-12-29T03:24:20.271-05:00Detour to YangonDespite a 5a.m. wake-up, we pulled out of our host Yun's place a little bit later than we'd hoped. He kindly accompanied us to the border to send us off and watched our bikes and bags as we attempted in vain to figure out how to secure a re-entry permit on our single-entry Thai visa.
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Sukhothai-to-Mae-Sot/i-wSx4GB7" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Sukhothai-to-Mae-Sot/i-wSx4GB7/0/M/1012790_247378418751105_1172186746_n-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> About to enter Myanmar via the Thai-Myanmar Friendship Bridge at Mae Sot (photo by Yun)</span></span>
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As Canadians entering Thailand via a land border we would only be granted a 14-day visa on arrival, definitely not enough time for us to cycle to Malaysia. We were trying to avoid having to apply for a new visa and it seemed like it was a pretty straightforward procedure for us to get a permit that would allow us to re-enter the country on our current 60-day visa. We showed up at the Thai Immigration at Mae Sot with our duly completed forms (downloaded from the Immigration Bureau of Thailand website).
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It became clear pretty quickly that nobody knew what to do with our forms. Despite what we thought was a pretty obvious heading, written in both Thai and English, “Application permit for re-entry into the Kingdom”. After being shuffled from window to the next, someone grudgingly filled out forms for us (20 baht/each). They turned out to be vehicle permits, which we're pretty sure we didn't need. Our completely ignored re-entry application forms were shoved back through the window at us, along with the vehicle permits. The confused immigration officers responded to our enquiries by repeating that we would get 14-day visas upon returning to Thailand, so we didn't have to worry. So we exited Thailand without the re-entry permit that we needed and concluded that we'd have to make our way to the Thai consulate in Yangon and apply for a new visa.
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Going to Yangon had not been part of our original plan, so we had to regroup and figure out what we would be doing in the country. By the time we actually entered the border town of Myawaddy it was late morning, quashing our half-hearted hopes of cycling over the mountains of Kayin State to it's capital Hpa-An 150km away. It was a two day ride that we had thought we might be able to manage in one day with an early enough start and an after-dark finish. We decided to take a bus, at least part of the way.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Yangon/n-gBZQB/i-ZptfhGj" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-ZptfhGj/0/M/i-ZptfhGj-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Loading our bicycles on to the bus at the Myawaddy bus terminal</span></span>
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By the time our bus cleared the mountains, there were about three hours of daylight left and over 100km to Hpa-an. The mountain road was a one-lane, pothole ridden disaster with switchbacks that often required our bus to make multiple three-point turns to clear. Kind of scary and definitely uncomfortable. There were several checkpoints where copies of our passport were handed out and we were even once photographed. The road has only recently been opened to foreign tourists, with the area under cease-fire after years of devastating civil war.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Yangon/n-gBZQB/i-8zCLZpv" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-8zCLZpv/0/M/i-8zCLZpv-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> View from the bus of a traffic jam that took us almost an hour to clear, just outside Hpa-an </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Yangon/n-gBZQB/i-fvhX4Gj" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-fvhX4Gj/0/M/i-fvhX4Gj-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Smiles of Kayin State</span></span>
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We hadn't been told that our bus wasn't actually Hpa-an bound. We were dropped off at an intersection about 10km out of the city. It was nearing dark and as we disembarked we realised that the bus was probably headed to Yangon. Rather than attempting to load our bicycles onto a new bus the next day we decided to continue on. It would be another seven hours before we arrived in Yangon, at 1a.m., at the bus terminal 30km out of the city. We had called a few hotels from a pay phone at our dinner stop but hadn't found any with vacancies. We found a taxi driver willing to drive us around until we found a cheap hotel.
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It was almost 3 a.m. by the time we found a room. It was a windowless mildew-box on the fifth floor of a downtown hotel, the last one in the entire place. The last one in Yangon as far as we could tell (although we did reject our taxi driver's first pick that appeared to have several prostitutes waiting in the lobby).
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To add to the terribleness of the situation we had picked up a third-wheel at the Yangon bus station. A solo traveller who didn't have a damn clue what was going on. He was in the country attempting to get a long-term Thai visa so that he could continue to live there with his wife. It seemed highly suspicious to us that anyone would marry this guy. We had agreed to let him share our taxi, forcing us to share a single seat in the back, with our bikes and bags piled on top of us, while he sat in the front. And in a moment of even more perplexing sympathy we agreed to let him share our tiny double room. It was, after all, the middle of the night and we didn't have the heart to send him on the continued search for a room (we had tried four hotels before finding this one). We weren't able to get rid of him until three days later, when we basically got on our bikes and rode away. We did however, kick him out of our room after the first night (incredibly, he resisted).
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Yangon/n-gBZQB/i-ZSxGktB" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-ZSxGktB/0/M/i-ZSxGktB-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> View from the roof of our downtown Yangon hotel</span></span>
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Despite the oppressive humidity and our equally oppressive side-kick, we managed to get out and explore the fantastic bustle of downtown Yangon, get our Thai visas and squeeze in a visit to the Shwedagon Pagoda (the country's holiest Buddhist pilgrimage site). We were pretty mesmerized by Yangon. We stayed in an area with a large concentration of hotels but we found that everything, including the traffic, seemed to be indifferent to the presence of tourists. Although we did get a lot of huge beautiful smiles!
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Yangon/n-gBZQB/i-RBJPdvx" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-RBJPdvx/0/M/i-RBJPdvx-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Afternoon commute, downtown Yangon</span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Myanmar/Yangon/n-gBZQB/i-kvdM6NQ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-kvdM6NQ/0/M/i-kvdM6NQ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Evening at Shwedagon Pagoda </span></span>
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After two days in the city we secured onward bus tickets to Mandalay. It was a pain finding a company that would agree to transport our bicycles for a not outrageous fee. While the seat prices were all in the same standard range, there was some serious price-gouging on the excess baggage fees. We eventually had our hotel staff reserve tickets for us (at the price that we had balked at before trying to negotiate the fees ourselves).
We cycled out to the bus station, even though we had read that bicycles and motorcycles were banned from Yangon streets. The downtown riding was perfectly fine, but as we exited the city it became an increasingly hair-raising ride. We ended up on a busy, undivided, highway jockeying for space on the narrow shoulder with hundreds of pedestrians, rickshaws and bicycles in complete darkness.
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At the bus station, our "friend" was waiting for us. When we had told him that we were going to Mandalay, he announced that he would be coming with us. The three of us arrived in Mandalay before sunrise after an 8 hour, largely sleepless bus ride. We weren't exactly in cycling condition, but we had already resigned ourselves to the fact that the only way to free ourselves would be to start riding, which is what we did.
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12717601508498406428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-22290672114068616122013-12-19T07:48:00.000-05:002013-12-19T07:48:24.620-05:00Across Northern Thailand's Highway 12
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Our border crossing into Thailand over the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge was totally smooth. In about twenty minutes we had cleared Thai customs with the two month entry-stamp that we were hoping for. We easily reached Udon Thani, where we ended up for three days trying to find a solution to our wheel problem. Despite our hopes to the contrary, Udon Thani's bike shops had even less selection than Vientiane's. After briefly considering sending Yann to Bangkok for a few days to shop for wheels, we settled on a used one that is now on my bicycle. The wheel's bearings are completely shot making for a very “crunchy” ride (that's the opposite of smooth). But if it lasts us the 2,000km of riding separating us from the Bangkok bike shops then it will have been 25$ well spent.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Udon-Thani-to-Sukhothai-Highwa/n-Rmk9L#!i=2971357895&k=szWmLSR" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-szWmLSR/0/M/i-szWmLSR-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Goodbye Mavic EX721, you didn't really cut it</span></span>
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Udon Thani is an unremarkable place. It was the location of a US Air Force base during the Vietnam War, so many locals made money and learned English, making it a prosperous city Thai standards. The city has a large expat community but virtually no independent tourists. The only thing we did in Udon Thani, between changing bicycle wheels and mailing packages home, was eating. After having spent a month in Laos where the food was expensive and limited, we were pretty excited by the abundance of cheap, delicious food. So despite the lack of tourist attractions, our three days in the city were rather pleasant, albeit gluttonous.
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From Udon Thani we had 600km of riding to the Burmese border at Mae Sot. Our first day was an ambitious 144km ride south to the town of Chum Phae. Here, our rural 3-digit highway intersected the the larger Highway 12 which we would follow until the border. Despite the easy flat terrain, we were wiped when we pulled in to Chum Phae at nightfall. The next two days of riding were brutal. We completely underestimated the difficulty of the route. We climbed twice as many metres as we had calculated with all the ups and downs. With the grades of some of the climbs at over 25% we crawled on the ups, and reached speeds of over 55km/hr on the downs. We've mastered keeping our balance while maintaining a speed of 3km/hr, so at least we didn't have to resort to pushing our bikes. (Yann has insisted that I include the following statement: Yann has never ridden a bicycle under the speed of 4.5km/hr and he will not have the above speed attributed to his riding.)
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="340" scrolling="no" src="http://api.smugmug.com/services/embed/2893584407_7FfBsHL?width=600&height=340&albumId=35477185&albumKey=m7Z8HX" width="600"></iframe>
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Our first day on Highway 12 was the toughest. We hadn't realised that for most of the day the highway ran through Nam Nao National Park, home to several wild elephants. We concluded, after riding over a lot of elephant poop, that these elephants must make regular appearances on the highway. The road, though beautiful, was virtually deserted and eerily quiet, making every rustling leaf a potential angry elephant. We felt vulnerable, especially at the speed we were going on the climbs. I spent the day constantly reevaluating our strategic position, how far were we from a downhill getaway? We could outpace an elephant on a downhill, but every downhill was followed immediately by an insane uphill. I pictured us trapped in a crevasse, between two climbs, surrounded by elephants.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Udon-Thani-to-Sukhothai-Highwa/n-Rmk9L/i-z354nZj" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-z354nZj/0/M/i-z354nZj-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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Other than our constant worrying about elephant attacks, the day's ride was uneventful, the highlight of which was getting Google street mapped (GPS coordinates: N16.76218°, E101.51997°) on this entirely empty stretch of highway!
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Continuing along Highway 12, we spent the next two days on the stretch of the road known as the Green Route. Apparently this title has made the area extremely popular. The road was empty on the previous day and all of a sudden the road widened and tons of Thai tourists appeared. The climbs were just as steep, but with lots of access to food and water and with no threat of wild elephants, the riding seemed a lot easier.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Udon-Thani-to-Sukhothai-Highwa/n-Rmk9L/i-W8MDmVQ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-W8MDmVQ/0/M/i-W8MDmVQ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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We took a nice long break in Sukhothai, where we joined the hundreds of other tourists visiting its historic old city on rental bicycles. The bicycle is by far the most popular way to explore the temples and it makes for a really pleasant, uncrowded atmosphere. At some of the more remote temples we were the only people there.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Sukhothai/n-dMRNm/i-MzSzGqK" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-MzSzGqK/0/M/i-MzSzGqK-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Sukhothai/n-dMRNm#!i=2974399831&k=Lp2LHDZ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Lp2LHDZ/0/M/i-Lp2LHDZ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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Our ride from Sukhothai to the border stretched from our planned two days into five days when Yann got pretty sick fifty kilometres from our destination. We were on our final day of riding, just a few dozen metres short of the first of two passes for the day when we pulled over at a roadside market to rest. Yann lay on the pavement for over an hour, consumed several electrolyte drinks but was completely out. There was no way he was going to make it up another climb. We turned back down the road where we had spotted a small agro-tourism resort on the side of the mountain. It was a pretty nice place to be stuck, the weather was mercifully cool as Yann battled a fever for two days. I walked up to the market every day to buy our meals and emptied the few shops of their electrolyte drinks. After three nights Yann wasn't entirely better but he was feeling strong enough to leave.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Sukhothai-to-Mae-Sot/n-8nQq7#!i=2971936610&k=zcDVjK3" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-zcDVjK3/0/M/i-zcDVjK3-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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A few kilometres out of Mae Sot we spotted another cyclist coming from the other direction, or rather he spotted us. On a fully-loaded touring bike, we thought he was a tourist, but he was actually a local cycling enthusiast coming to meet us! After receiving a call from a friend who spotted us on the road, he had rode out to intercept us. After brief introductions we were instructed to follow him to his place where he showed us to our own room in his home. Our host, Yun, then led us around town. First treating us to two plates each of noodles for lunch, then bringing us to his shop at the border market where we we met his wife and daughter. On the way to the market, we picked up two American cyclists who had just arrived in town and were looking for a place to stay. There were now five of us, parading around town with our touring bikes.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Sukhothai-to-Mae-Sot/n-8nQq7/i-tjJTnFL" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-tjJTnFL/0/M/i-tjJTnFL-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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Yun and his family exhibited much of the same traits as our past cycling hosts: boundless energy and incredible generosity. We were fed and lodged and when we woke up at 5am the next morning, we found that everyone was already awake preparing a hearty breakfast for our send-off, including cheese and an assortment of speciality coffees! We were made to promise that we would visit again on our return from Myanmar, this wasn't a particularly difficult promise to make.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Thailand/Cycling-Thailand-2013/Sukhothai-to-Mae-Sot/n-8nQq7/i-RN8TSPb" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-RN8TSPb/0/M/i-RN8TSPb-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<iframe src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3795476/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Stats for Vientiane (Laos) to Mae Sot (Thailand):<br />
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Days of cycling: 8 <br />
Days of rest: lots <br />
Kilometres cycled: 749 <br />
Metres climbed: 5938 <br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
</div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-49131807526010307982013-11-11T07:29:00.001-05:002013-11-11T07:29:34.534-05:00Over the Mountains of Northern Laos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
After the festival in Luang Prabang, I got sick ( a few too many fruit shakes perhaps). After spending two days cooped up in our room waiting for me to not require proximity to the toilet we decided to hit the road. Even though I wasn't completely recuperated, we were were bored and wanted to move on. After a few kilometres of pained riding on flat terrain, it was obvious that I wouldn't have the energy for a full day on the bike. At lunch, after having ridden only 25km we stopped in the small village of Xiang Ngeun, home to the last guesthouses before the road climbed into the mountains.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang-to-Vang-Vieng/n-CtxTk/i-RFZqpZ7" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-RFZqpZ7/0/M/i-RFZqpZ7-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Rain all day on the climb to Kiewkacham</span></span>
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We left Xiang Ngeun in the pouring rain, which continued until we pulled into the mountain village of Kiewkacham well after sunset. The day was difficult, with two major climbs and a downhill made extremely uncomfortable by the fact that we were freezing and soaking wet. For the first time, we were anxious for the climbing to start up again. If we weren't pedalling, we were shivering. The scenery was probably great, but we couldn't see anything through the rain and fog. By mid-afternoon, Yann was suffering from his recurring stomach cramps. Our last 400m of climbing dragged out for hours because we had to keep stopping so that Yann could bend over and try to relieve the pain. I can tell when Yann isn't feeling well because I can keep up with him, which was the case for most of the day. <br />
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When we pulled into Kiewkacham it was dark and the fog was so thick that we could only see a few metres ahead of us. As we entered the town centre, a cluster of a few buildings, we were enthusiastically greeted by a trio of men waving us down and calling us over. They were clearly wet and freezing and draped in blankets and towels wearing nothing but their boxers. They were so excited to see us, we soon guessed that they too had to be cyclists (cyclists with only one change of clothing). We settled into the same very basic (but better of Kiewkacham's only two guesthouses) where we were immediately asked by our new Thai friends to ride with them the next day. By their lack of warm clothes, we knew that they were travelling light. When we explained that we were probably too slow for them, the oldest of the three replied “I'm an old man! We ride together!”.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang-to-Vang-Vieng/n-CtxTk/i-SbQ3FbB" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-SbQ3FbB/0/M/i-SbQ3FbB-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Wisit and Anosorn showing-off their "Robocop" cardboard body armour</span></span>
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We left Kiewkacham early, avoiding our previous day's mistake of a late departure that had us riding in the dark. The toughest climbing was behind us, but we still wouldn't completely get over the mountains for another day and a half. After the cold of the previous day, the five of us set out wearing lots of clothing. Our friends took apart cardboard boxes and layered them under their cycling jerseys for warmth. But without the previous day's rain, the layers were stripped off quickly as we began the morning with a climb. <br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Leaving Kiewkacham in the early morning</span></span>
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After lunch, we parted ways with our companions, who, travelling with less than 5kg each were much faster than we were (especially on the climbs). They were extremely good about waiting for us, but we knew it would be more pleasant for them to ride at their own pace, so we sent them off. Rather than ride to the larger town of Kasi where they were heading, we chose to stop about 20km earlier at a “Hot Springs Resort” outside a tiny village along the highway. Neither was it a resort, neither were the springs hot.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang-to-Vang-Vieng/n-CtxTk/i-hGRL5wr" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-hGRL5wr/0/M/i-hGRL5wr-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The spectacular scenery between Kiewkacham and Kasi</span></span>
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We spent a few nights in Vang Vieng, a once popular riverside party destination. Earlier this year, Lao authorities finally cracked down on the town's more Darwinist activities (after <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/apr/07/vang-vieng-laos-party-town">hundreds of deaths of drunken foreigners</a>). Drugs are no longer sold openly, Tarzan ropes, “death swings” have been removed from the banks of the river and most of the riverside bars shut down. We had read reports that referred to Vang Vieng as a ghost town and we had spoken to some travellers who said it was a lot nicer and quieter than it used to be. We felt there were still a lot of tourists despite the relative “quietness”. But without the partying, the town seems yet to re-invent itself as a tourist destination. Uncontrolled and unsustainable riverside development has rendered the main strip an unsightly mess. We found that locals involved in the tourist industry were for the most part neither friendly nor welcoming. Vang Vieng needs a make-over, there are far nicer places to visit in Laos and we were happy to leave (although we had a nice float down the river for old times' sake).
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<tr><td> <a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Laos-2007/Vientiane-Province/Vang-Vieng/i-62KLZ5H" ><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Laos-2007/Vientiane-Province/Vang-Vieng/i-62KLZ5H/1/S/DSC_6617-S.jpg" /></a>
</td><td> <a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Vang-Vieng-to-Vientiane/n-fDCHJ/i-m3G9chk"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-m3G9chk/0/S/i-m3G9chk-S.jpg"/></a>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Then and now: seven years between tubing trips in Vang Vieng, Yann is as sexy as ever!</span></span>
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Leaving Vang Vieng we discovered our first real bike problem: Yann's back rim was cracked! This wasn't all that surprising. After purchasing the rims we had read several reports of the same thing happening to other cyclists who used this downhill rim for touring. We hoped that high-end spokes and our religiously keeping the tire pressure under it's maximum recommended psi would keep us immune to rim failure. But Yann had been carrying a lot of weight, especially in his back panniers (sometimes even strapping my bags to his back rack). We hypothesized that the pothole-filled downhill between Oudom Xay and Pak Mong had probably done us in.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Vang-Vieng-to-Vientiane/n-fDCHJ/i-RhwgPGn" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-RhwgPGn/0/M/i-RhwgPGn-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Yann's cracked back rim </span></span>
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About to hit the flats, we chanced that the wheel would last the 160km to Vientiane, which it did. On our first day in the city we hit all of its bike shops to look for a solution. With very few bike shops catering to a higher end cycle market (and a virtually non-existent cycle-touring market), we came away with few options. One option was to buy an average-quality wheel-set. But we wanted to salvage the hub and in order to do this, there was one rim available in the city but no spokes to go with it. The store mechanic eyeballed Yann's wheel and without taking any measurements told us that we could re-use its spokes. Luckily we knew the new rim's specifications and we knew that the old spokes wouldn't fit it, losing all faith in the mechanic's ability to build us a new wheel. So we decided that we would ride on to Thailand, with a big city less than a hundred kilometres across the border.
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We had been toying with the idea of trying to ride overland into Burma. With our wheel problems forcing us into Thailand, we reluctantly concluded that we would skip cycling in Southern Laos and make our way across Northern Thailand to the border at Mae Sot.
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<iframe src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3655009/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Stats for Luang Prabang to Vientiane:
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Days of cycling: 5.5
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Days of rest: 1
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Kilometres cycled: 397
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Metres climbed: 4683
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Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 7
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
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YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-10142805213655299912013-11-09T08:45:00.000-05:002013-11-11T07:29:16.648-05:00The Festival of Lights in Luang Prabang<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
We left Nong Khiaw a few days earlier than we would have liked because we decided to wanted to be in Luang Prabang for <i>Boun Lay Hua Fai</i> (the festival of floating boats of light downstream). The festival coincides with the end of Buddhist Lent and is celebrated in many riverside towns across Laos (including in Nong Khiaw while we were there). In many of the villages we passed on the way to Luang Prabang colourful bamboo boats were on display in front of shops and homes. But the country's biggest <i>Lay Hua Fai</i> celebration is in its most popular tourist destination, Luang Prabang. Sitting at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers the city is an obvious choice for floating boats of light downstream.<br />
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We were in Luang Prabang <a href="http://www.ye-travels.org/2007/01/how-did-we-spend-new-years-eve.html">seven years earlier</a> and had been overwhelmed and a little bit disappointed by how touristy it was. We came to the festival without any expectations, guessing that tourists
might very well outnumber the locals participating in the event. Nothing much has changed, except maybe us. We were definitely more at ease with the comforts that we had previously snubbed. We still sought out budget options, but eating chicken sandwiches and drinking fruit shakes every meal didn't really faze us. We even bought a 5$ jar of peanut butter. <br />
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-nh9WmPK" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-nh9WmPK/0/M/i-nh9WmPK-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Luang Prabang, an charming city even with all the tourists </span></span><br />
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We arrived the day before the festival and the whole city was in preparation mode. Colourful paper lanterns were being strung on shops and in temple courtyards, finishing touches were being made to the large dragon boat floats that would be paraded through the city, banana leaf candle boats were being meticulously assembled in every household.
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-fWrXJ3X" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-fWrXJ3X/0/M/i-fWrXJ3X-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Festival decorations at Wat That</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-DxBjpt9" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-DxBjpt9/0/M/i-DxBjpt9-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> This young monk took a break from stringing lanterns to pose for a photo</span></span>
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On the actual day of the festival the decorating-pace accelerated. As the darkness fell, the hundreds of lanterns hanging throughout the city were individually lit.<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>The streets began to fill with procession spectators and participants. Shopkeepers and residents began lining the sidewalks with candles and lanterns. <br />
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-rSNFfLV" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-rSNFfLV/0/M/i-rSNFfLV-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Festival decorations at Wat Maysouvanhnaphoumaram </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-zrv9KDT" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-zrv9KDT/0/M/i-zrv9KDT-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Lighting lanterns at Wat Maysouvanhnaphoumaram</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-LcKBKqf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-LcKBKqf/0/M/i-LcKBKqf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Lighting candles outside the family store</span></span>
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We waited anxiously with the crowds for the festival's main event, the procession of the boats of light. Different villages and temples build their own bamboo boats, each carefully decorated and adorned with candles. The boats were paraded down Luang Prabang's main street. Each boat-procession was led by village representatives, often traditionally dressed carrying lanterns. The boat was accompanied by minders who made sure that it wheeled along correctly, that the candles stayed lit and that the float didn't catch fire. Tailing each float were the rest of the village representatives who sang and danced and celebrated their creation. <br />
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Loud-speakers introduced every village as it passed describing each float. The English announcement for every float began with "the boat is made out of bamboo and is in the shape of a Naga". This was true. Every boat was made of bamboo and every boat took the shape of a Naga (a Buddhist serpent-dragon). But each was unique! One breathed fire, one flapped his wings, each one carefully assembled only to be lowered into the Mekong River and set adrift.<br />
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Once the procession ended, tourists and locals alike made their way to the Mekong River. Thousands of small candle boats were lit and sent down river. At the same time, sky lanterns (hot-air lanterns) were sent into the sky. It didn't matter how many tourists were around. No one seemed to notice the crowds around them, they focused on being with their families and friends, lighting their boats and their lanterns together.
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-cz9tL7J" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-cz9tL7J/0/M/i-cz9tL7J-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Luang-Prabang/n-xd4Zk/i-M7fMjW4" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-M7fMjW4/0/M/i-M7fMjW4-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3646180/embed" width="100%"></iframe>
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Stats for Nong Khiaw to Luang Prabang:
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Days of cycling: 1.5
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Days of rest: 4 (in Luang Prabang)
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Kilometres cycled: 143
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Metres climbed: 1017<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1<br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span> </div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12717601508498406428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-6296235345530786162013-11-04T03:40:00.000-05:002013-11-04T03:40:43.095-05:00Rest and Relaxation in Laos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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What a difference between China and Laos. In Laos the village homes are mostly small bamboo structures with thatched roofs, the rolling hills stripped by logging and slash-and-burn agriculture. The roadside shops are poorly stocked, the markets sparse and the prices higher than in China. But we felt a calmness and tranquillity that was somewhat non-existent in China. Instead of the blank stares that we had gotten used to, we were greeted by bright smiles and cries of sabaidee (hello) from almost everyone we passed. Every time we rode by a village, small children would stop what they were doing to greet us with uncontrolled enthusiasm.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Mohan-to-Oudom-Xay/n-KtFnK/i-zkzCQsb" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-zkzCQsb/0/M/i-zkzCQsb-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Greeters in the small village of Nateuy </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Mohan-to-Oudom-Xay/n-KtFnK/i-RrGqk6V" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-RrGqk6V/0/M/i-RrGqk6V-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Rice terraces outside Luang Namtha </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Oudom-Xay-to-Nong-Khiaw/n-QTZcs/i-dwQW45C" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-dwQW45C/0/M/i-dwQW45C-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A village along the highway between Oudom Xay and Pak Mong</span></span>
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Rather than head directly south from the border, we decided to take a short (40km) detour to the town of Luang Namtha, the main base for trekking in Northern Laos. We had no intention of trekking, but we knew we would find guesthouses, restaurants and other travellers' amenities that we had longed for since leaving Dali in China. Despite the fairly easy terrain, by our eleventh consecutive day of cycling we were really moving slowly and our legs were in pretty desperate need for rest. So we spent four great days in Luang Namtha doing very little. We met lots of cyclists and travellers, ate every night at the night market, went to the herbal sauna and watched lots of Star Trek.
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Our only Luang Namtha (mis)adventure was stumbling in on a cooking class where we were invited to partake in the post-class meal. We were basically roped in by the two foreign tourists who were clearly too nervous to eat their creations alone: steamed bat and squirrel stew. The stew was palatable, but the bat, steamed whole in a banana leaf was a little bit difficult to handle. Attempting (probably quite poorly) to hide our discomfort, we gnawed away at it's tiny body, trying to get the little meat that there was. Yann was completely convinced we would get sick because the bats were steamed with none of their organs removed. Not recommended.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Mohan-to-Oudom-Xay/n-KtFnK/i-XcjBsgR" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-XcjBsgR/0/M/i-XcjBsgR-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> At the Oudom Xay market </span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
From Luang Namtha we rode to Oudom Xay, the largest town in Northern Laos and a major trading point for Chinese goods entering the country. Subsequently it is Chinese-style ugly. We had fond memories of the city from our time there seven years earlier, so we were eager to see if the town had changed much. We had put a lot of hope into eating pancakes from a street stall where we had eaten every night on our last visit to the city. We roamed around in the evening, where our vendor used to set up, and we were very disappointed to find that he was no longer there. For years we had referred to the Oudom Xay pancakes as the best pancakes we'd ever eaten. We realised that those fried pancakes, smothered in condensed milk were the only real reason why we wanted to re-visit the city.
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Our route continued south along National Highway 13 with the 80km from Oudom Xay to our next destination Pak Mong rumoured to be its worst section in terms of road conditions. We can confirm those rumours.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Oudom-Xay-to-Nong-Khiaw/n-QTZcs/i-Z4876Nd" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Z4876Nd/0/M/i-Z4876Nd-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Can you spot Yann? </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Oudom-Xay-to-Nong-Khiaw/n-QTZcs/i-5tZ9pbq" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-5tZ9pbq/0/M/i-5tZ9pbq-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The worst stretch of National Highway 13 </span></span>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After our intense riding in Yunnan, we tried to slow our pace in Laos. We planned to detour from the main highway again to spend a few days in the small river-side town of Nong Khiaw. What a great decision! We checked into a beautiful (inexpensive) lodge on the western bank of the river, away from the tourist ghetto on the eastern bank. Right up the street from our hotel was a small family-run restaurant with fantastic, (inexpensive) food. Everything on our side of the river basically shut down by night fall, which is pretty early in October. All we could do was sit and admire the incredible mountain scenery that surrounds the village over a cold Beer Lao.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Oudom-Xay-to-Nong-Khiaw/n-QTZcs/i-8drBsDh" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-8drBsDh/0/M/i-8drBsDh-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The Nam Ou River through Nong Khiaw </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Oudom-Xay-to-Nong-Khiaw/n-QTZcs/i-CpK4dpd" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-CpK4dpd/0/M/i-CpK4dpd-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> View from our room at the Nam Ou River Lodge </span></span>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Laos/Cycling-Laos-2013/Oudom-Xay-to-Nong-Khiaw/n-QTZcs/i-3PwSCtd" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-3PwSCtd/0/M/i-3PwSCtd-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Menu at the Nong Khiaw
Family Restaurant where we ate every day</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3626884/embed" width="100%"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Stats for Mohan to Nong Khiaw:<br />
<br />
Days of cycling: 3 full-days, 2 half-days <br />
Days of rest: 5 full-days, 1 half-day<br />
Kilometres cycled: 296<br />
Metres climbed: 3249<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 6<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span>
</div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-29960310455429462512013-10-31T02:21:00.000-04:002013-10-31T02:41:28.789-04:00Cycling Yunnan: Kunming to Laos via Dali<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
With only 25 days on our Chinese visa,
we did this trip way faster than we wanted to, and were probably a
little bit too ambitious about the distance we wanted to cover. We
ended up cycling 20 days, including a consecutive 11-day stretch.
There isn't a flat kilometre in the province, but we were rewarded
with empty highways, good quality roads and unbelievable scenery (for
the most part). Here's our summary with some additional info at the end.<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Ninger-to-Mohan-Highway-G213/n-9Fz78/i-xjMMj5T" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-xjMMj5T/0/M/i-xjMMj5T-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
</div>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Part 1 (Kunming to Old Dali – Highway
G320)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b> <br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3605892/embed" width="100%"></iframe>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Had we done a little bit more planning
ahead of time, we might have cut south towards Laos directly from
Kunming allowing for a more leisurely pace. But we were keen on
cycling the western part of the province and we thought we might
enjoy a break in Old Dali. The G320 highway runs roughly parallel to
the expressway that absorbs most of the traffic heading west from
Kunming. We shared the road with locals who were avoiding the
expressway tolls or moving between villages. We hoped to complete
this ride in four days, but with all the climbing it took us five.
This road is probably the busiest and the least scenic of the
highways we rode in Yunnan. The cities which seem to be plopped down
in the middle of nowhere were truly uninspiring.
Luckily, most of the
ride was through rural countryside which was far more picturesque,
although not immune to the plague of Chinese urban development.<br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Kunming-to-Dali-Highway-G320/n-xBFq4/i-M7Ltmbt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-M7Ltmbt/0/M/i-M7Ltmbt-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Kunming-to-Dali-Highway-G320/n-xBFq4/i-HvxNXBR" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-HvxNXBR/0/M/i-HvxNXBR-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><br />
We knew that Old Dali would be busy and
probably disappointing. But we planned to stop there any ways to
enjoy the comforts of our last major tourist destination in China.
This basically meant eating hamburgers and having an internet
connection with a functioning VPN. We had visited Old Dali seven
years earlier, and we found the city to be completely transformed. It
was overrun with tour groups and expanded with horrible Chinese
construction. In our opinion, Old Dali can be skipped, although it's
a good place to do laundry, eat western food and get your internet
fix (see notes on internet below).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Part 2 (Old Dali to Nanjian – Highway
S224)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b>
</div>
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3605893/embed" width="100%"></iframe> <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
We only spent a day and a half on this
secondary road before rejoining the national highway at Nanjian. We
chose the route so that we could stop in the town of Weishan, which
we had read was worth a visit. Signs advertised it as “Weishan
Ancient Cultural & Historical Town” which we assumed would mean
that it was a tourist trap. We were pleasantly surprised to find it
unaffected by its designation. It has a quiet, charming old quarter
which we wandered through all afternoon without seeing more than 2 or
3 tourists.
<iframe frameborder="0" height="340" scrolling="no" src="http://api.smugmug.com/services/embed/2832570058_pLtHxfq?width=600&albumId=32902438&albumKey=9HFqcF" width="600"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Dali-to-Nanjian-Highway-S224/n-WDxPL/i-cCZb7Cc" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-cCZb7Cc/0/M/i-cCZb7Cc-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a> </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Part 3 (Nanjian to Lincang – Highway
G214)</span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3605895/embed" width="100%"></iframe> <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
We spent three and a half days on this
highway complete with several full-day climbs. Although the traffic
was fairly sparse, the trucks struggled up the hills and blew lots of
thick exhaust at us. We also had to cycle through a fair number of
long, unlit or dimly lit tunnels which were slightly unnerving. The
positive aspect of them being dark was that the drivers seemed to be
as nervous about being in them as we did and drove really slowly.
</div>
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Nanjian-to-Lincang-Highway-G21/n-HSQJ8/i-3sVcdLC" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-3sVcdLC/0/M/i-3sVcdLC-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
The cities we passed through continued
to be uninteresting, but the sections of raised highway through the
mountain were epic, especially when we were on a descent. We spent a
rest day in Lincang, not because it was a nice place to stay, but
because we were exhausted from all the climbing.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Nanjian-to-Lincang-Highway-G21/n-HSQJ8/i-fjmMR3c" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-fjmMR3c/0/M/i-fjmMR3c-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Part 4 (Lincang to Ning'er – Highway
G323)</span></b></div>
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3605897/embed" width="100%"></iframe> <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Instead of following the G214 we
decided to cut east across central Yunnan in order to shave a few
hundred kilometres and a few days off our ride. We ended up on a
beautiful quasi-abandoned stretch of highway that was free of truck
traffic, tunnels and ugly big cities.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
From Lincang we had one of our most
epic descents, over 1000 metres to the Lancang (Mekong) River, with
spectacular views of the river gorge cutting through the mountains.
We slept in a quiet motel and watched the morning mist rising from
motel balcony. Other nights along this highway were spent in pretty
basic truck stops, where the dark quiet nights in the mountains were
enough to compensate for the mouse poop in the sheets.
</div>
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Lincang-to-Ninger-Highway-G323/n-Xm5g5/i-5GWKXqJ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-5GWKXqJ/0/M/i-5GWKXqJ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Part 5 (Ning'er to Mohan – Highway
G213)</span></b><br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3605903/embed" width="100%"></iframe> <br />
When we joined up with the G213 we
expected the worse in terms of traffic. We figured that the main
route connecting Simao to Jinghong would be the busiest stretch of
our ride. We didn't think the national highways could get any quieter
than the G323, but we were wrong! Again, the parallel expressway
absorbed almost all of the traffic and we rode alongside the few
motorcycles making their way between villages and rubber plantations
(it was rubber harvest season in the area, which was interesting but
extremely stinky)<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Much of the G213 highway runs through
the Xishuangbanna Nature Reserve where the jungle is left untouched.
Tree-cover shielded us from the sun, although the humidity was a lot
higher than further north in the province. The climbs were much
shorter though, which was a relief because we were starting to feel
the effects of cycling for over a week without a break.</div>
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Ninger-to-Mohan-Highway-G213/n-9Fz78/i-s3mDPdt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-s3mDPdt/0/M/i-s3mDPdt-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Other Information</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Camping</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
We didn't camp at all in Yunnan. Any
flat ground that we spotted was usually occupied by rice, corn or
tobacco. In many areas, the highway climbed through the mountains,
with steep cliffs on either side of the road. Probably the only
camping option would have been to ask villagers to sleep on their
land. In Xishuangbanna there were a few more suitable looking camp
sites.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Truck stops</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Other than highway G213 (where we slept
in the towns), there were truck stops in even the smallest villages.
They are usually unsigned, but you can easily distinguish them from
village homes, they are long one-storey buildings with several
side-by-side rooms. They come with shared bathroom facilities and
very basic rooms, but usually a hot, solar-powered shower.
</div>
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Lincang-to-Ninger-Highway-G323/n-Xm5g5/i-jF4v6B3" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-jF4v6B3/0/M/i-jF4v6B3-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a> <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Motels/Budget Hotels</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
These are a step up from the truck stop
in that they have private bathrooms. We had great, clean budget
hotels with hot showers for most of our trip, usually for around 60
yuan a night (about $10). We could often roll the bicycle right into
the room fully-loaded which was great for quick morning starts. In
mid-sized towns, the hotels in our budget price-range tended to be a
little bit crustier, but for the price we were completely satisfied.
</div>
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Lincang-to-Ninger-Highway-G323/n-Xm5g5/i-whDMwWw" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-whDMwWw/0/M/i-whDMwWw-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Internet</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Apart from the major tourist centres of
Dali and Kunming, if you aren't a Chinese National, surfing at an
internet cafe has become nearly impossible. Chinese ID cards are now
equipped with an RF-ID so that they can be scanned right into the
system at every internet cafe. The cafes are totally depressing,
filled with mindless automatons smoking for hours on end while
playing video games. The connections are terrible because no one is
actually surfing, they're all just battling each other in locally
networked video games.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Only at a few places were we given
permission to use the computer, but we felt uncomfortable surfing
because we didn't want to get the cafe owners in trouble. At one
place, the employee hovered around Yann as he was reading the news.
Using an online translator, he managed to transmit the three-word
message “few pieces opinions”. Ok, we understand.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Food</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
There are restaurants everywhere in
China. We tried to seek out refrigerated food display cases where all
the available food items are on display. The fridges are perfect for
ordering if you don't speak Mandarin because you just point at what
you want. We tried a huge variety of vegetable dishes, almost all of
them spicy. We usually paid 10 yuan for vegetable dishes and 20-30
for meat dishes. But we didn't really bargain.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Kunming-to-Dali-Highway-G320/n-xBFq4/i-27RphDK" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-27RphDK/0/M/i-27RphDK-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
In bigger towns, breakfast stalls
selling steamed buns and/or dumplings lined the streets and set up
very early. But elsewhere we had to plan for breakfast the night
before by stocking up on fruits and store bought cakes. We would
advise against buying the popular “French bread” unless you are
looking for something that is very much not French bread. The best
cakes we found we found were the “Daliyuan European-style cakes”,
available at most mid-sized road-side shops. Even better were the
homemade peanut cakes or date bread that we found a few times in
local markets.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Once we discovered the Yunnanese
noodles with self-serve toppings we ate them almost every day.
Unfortunately the noodle vendors tended to close up shop pretty
early, often before lunch time.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Ninger-to-Mohan-Highway-G213/n-9Fz78/i-p2Qqsrk" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-p2Qqsrk/0/M/i-p2Qqsrk-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Border Crossing</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
We changed money on the Chinese side at
a large money exchange building. We got an amazing rate, actually
better than the official rate, which was perplexing enough that we
thought we were being cheated. We avoided the numerous money changers
hovering around the border.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
On the Chinese side, in order to get
our bicycles across the border we had to first pass customs (leaving
our bicycles outside). Once we were stamped out, we could exit
through the vehicle lane after showing the border guards our
passports.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Similarly on the Lao side we had to
leave our bicycles outside, go through customs, then exit through the
vehicle lane. We advise not riding your bicycle through the vehicle
lane, you have to walk it through unless you want a stern talking to.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kilometre Breakdown</span><br />
Here's how we broke up the trip to try to spread out the climbing and kilometrage as evenly as possible:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 1 – Kunming to Lufeng (104km,
703m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 2 – Lufeng to Chuxiong Yi
“Minority Village” (85km, 595m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 3 – Chuxiong to Tianshentang
Village (75km, 940m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 4 – Tianshentang Village to Xiang
Yun (70km, 665m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 5 – Xiang Yun to Old Dali (84km,
878m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 6 – Old Dali to Weishan (70km,
504m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 7 – Weishan to Gonglang (85km,
612m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 8 – Gonglang to Yunxian (73km,
959m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 9 – Yunxian to Lincang (79km,
942m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 10 – Lincang to the Mekong River bridge
(68km, 578m)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
Day 11 – Mekong River bridge to Chahe
Village (68km, 1010m)</div>
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Day 12 – Chahe Village to Truckstop
on the G323 (72km, 922m)</div>
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Day 13 – Truckstop on the G323 to
Ning'er (58km, 752m)</div>
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Day 14 – Ning'er to Simao (50km,
689m)</div>
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Day 15 – Simao to Dadugang (74km,
799m)</div>
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Day 16 – Dadugang to Meng Kuan (83km,
836m)<br />
Day 17 – Meng Kuan to Meng Yuan (77km, 899m)<br />
Day 18 – Meng Yuan to Mengla (46km, 721m)<br />
Day 19 – Mengla to Mohan (57km, 532m)<br />
<br />
Stats for Kunming to Mohan:<br />
Days of cycling: 19 <br />
Days of rest: 3<br />
Kilometres cycled: 1 378 km<br />
Metres climbed: 14 536 m</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Partially sponsored by </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;"> Expedition Support</span></div>
</div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-47351039311243693632013-10-21T23:28:00.000-04:002013-10-31T02:57:04.376-04:00Hong Kong Visa Run<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Despite the highly efficient visa services offered in Hong Kong, we had no success getting a long term Chinese visa. Even worse was the fact that with a 14-day Chinese visa in our passports (from our failed attempt in Armenia) we were warned that we might only be granted another 14-day visa in Hong Kong. This meant the safe route was to apply for a 30-day group visa that would be issued on the same day but that was un-extendable, quashing any hope of a longer time in the country. Worse than that, the visa's 30 days begin on the date of issue. Having not had this important fact explained to us ahead of time, we only realised it when the group visa was in hand. It was our first day in Hong Kong and every day we would spend in the city would mean one less day in China. Our idea of taking it easy in Hong Kong was scrapped, as were much of our plans for touring Western China. We had to settle for a flight to Kunming, in southwestern Yunnan Province. We hoped that from there we could cycle to Laos without overstaying our visa.
<br />
<br />
In four days in Hong Kong, we managed to get three visas (China, Laos, Thailand), replace our water filtration system (sending home the useless Steripen), send home 4kg of baggage, eat dim sum at city hall, visit the Big Buddha on Lantau Island and hike on Hong Kong Island with our hosts. Despite being exhausted, we were grateful to have something forcing us to get our shit together. Hong Kong is a city that could have sucked us in much longer.
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" http:="" i-sn9jnss="" n-xsqjp="" ong-kong-2013="" ong-kong="" photos.ye-travels.org="" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-sn9jnss/0/M/i-sn9jnss-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Dim sum at Maxim's Palace City Hall, a place for overeating and overspending </span></span>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Hong-Kong/Hong-Kong-2013/n-Xsqjp/i-rtZPHZ2" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-rtZPHZ2/0/M/i-rtZPHZ2-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Lantau Island, a peaceful oasis just a subway ride away from downtown. The amount of green space is what makes Hong Kong such an incredible place </span></span>
<br />
<br />
With such an efficient airport and public transportation system we got way more done than we might have in any other place. Our favourite travel service was the downtown airline check-in counters. We didn't have to lug our bicycles and luggage all the way to the airport, we loaded them for a short taxi ride to the city centre where we checked them and got our boarding passes a full day early. We were then free to take the 20-minute airport shuttle, bicycle-free, whenever we wanted. Genius!
<br />
<br />
We landed in Kunming in the evening and had no problem finding a cheap unlicensed taxi to take us and our luggage to our hostel downtown. We booked a stay at the same hostel that we had stayed at seven years earlier and were pleased to see that it hadn't changed much. It was a bit busier than we had remembered, although maybe we're just getting old. Another sign of our ageing was moving on from the 8-bed dorm room to the double-the-price private room. Our seven-years-ago selves would be ashamed.
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a hina="" href="http://www.blogger.com/null" http:="" i-ghkjqhz="" photos.ye-travels.org="" style="text-align: center;" unming="" unnan=""><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Kunming/i-GHkjqHZ/1/M/DSC_3211-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> December 2006 at the Kunming Cloudland Hostel</span></span>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Kunming/n-W99Bz/i-CVNh22q" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-CVNh22q/0/M/i-CVNh22q-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;">October 2013 at the Kunming Cloudland Hostel</span></span>
</div>
<br />
All we had to do in the city was re-assemble our bicycles and plan our route through Yunnan province. The bikes had survived the two flights (we reinforced them with lots of packing tape after the first flight from Tehran). Yann's basket took a bit of a beating as did one of his wheel skewers, but both were easily fixed. We did have to spend an entire morning unsuccessfully trying to fix a problem with one of the front wheels, unrelated to the flight, a rotor bolt stuck in the hub. We borrowed a drill, hoping to be able to dislodge the bolt, but after almost an hour of attempting to grind away the bolt with very little progress, it seemed that we were risking greater damage to the hub by continuing. So we opted for me, the person carrying the least luggage (and “the amateur who rarely uses her front brakes”) to use the wheel with the damaged hub.
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Kunming/n-W99Bz#!i=2822628983&k=59FSrZq" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-59FSrZq/0/M/i-59FSrZq-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A smooshed bicycle basket </span></span>
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<br />
<a hina="" href="http://www.blogger.com/null" http:="" i="2822657920&k=whrWsT4" n-w99bz="" photos.ye-travels.org="" style="text-align: center;" unming="" unnan="" ycling-yunnan-2013=""><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-whrWsT4/0/M/i-whrWsT4-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The hostel staff helped us locate tools and were eager to help, but to no avail</span></span>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/China/Yunnan/Cycling-Yunnan-2013/Kunming/n-W99Bz#!i=2822659500&k=wJsB3Dg" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-wJsB3Dg/0/M/i-wJsB3Dg-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> This rotor bolt isn't going anywhere</span></span>
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<br />
The weather in Kunming (known as the City of Eternal Spring) was perfect. The best weather we'd had in 4 months. The city, as far as Chinese cities go, feels extremely laid back. Especially on the weekends when seniors gather at the local parks to socialize, usually involving singing and dancing. We could have easily gotten into a routine of eating delicious Chinese food, lounging in the hostel courtyard and strolling around town, but the mountains of Yunnan were calling us!
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a hina="" href="http://www.blogger.com/null" http:="" i-z2llzzj="" n-w99bz="" photos.ye-travels.org="" style="text-align: center;" unming="" unnan="" ycling-yunnan-2013=""><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Z2LLZZJ/0/M/i-Z2LLZZJ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> One of many Kunming seniors listening to music at the park on a Sunday afternoon </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Partially sponsored by </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;"> Expedition Support</span></div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-76442544035291613022013-10-16T06:45:00.001-04:002013-10-16T06:45:18.922-04:00Farewell Iran<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;" trbidi="on">
It was fitting that we would end our time in Iran being hosted. We had experienced so much kindness and hospitality in the country that we were sometimes overwhelmed. Our last few days in Tehran were spent with the Rouhi family, friends of Yann's father. We had been playing phone tag with them since our arrival in Iran and were really looking forward to spending time with Iranian-Canadians. In our two days with Fatima and her children Mohammad Reza, Mahia and Sania we were made to feel truly welcome and at home (and we were extremely well fed).
<br />
<br />
We did lots of relaxing and conversing at the Rouhi's, but we did squeeze in a little bit of sight-seeing before leaving Tehran. Mohammad spent a morning touring us around the Niavaran Palace Complex, residence of the last Iranian Shah and the imperial family. The complex is set in beautiful grounds in Northern Tehran, a perfect escape from the city that surrounds it. The grounds are now public space and the buildings are now a museum. Filled with the finest Persian carpets, famous artwork the many of the palace halls and living areas have been preserved as they were left. One of the buildings even has a retractable roof. The palace is a great example of the excess and opulence of the former shahs. It surprised us that this was not more emphasized, there is little historic information on display and the palace items seem to be displayed for admiration rather than anything more propagandist (we felt a great opportunity was being missed!).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran#!i=2762490558&k=gDxjRnW" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-gDxjRnW/0/M/YL0_8276-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The slightly dated main building of the Niavaran Palace Complex </span></span>
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<br />
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran#!i=2762488632&k=snjZPZH" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-snjZPZH/0/M/EMR_7851-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Yann and Mohammad posing outside Niavaran Palace after a lovely morning visit</span></span>
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For our last dinner in Iran we had a picnic in the mountains north of Tehran, also fitting. Throughout our travels in the country we had admired the Iranians love of picnicking, seeing them set up along the highway the minute a tiny bit of shade presented itself, we saw full picnics on the shoulder of national highways and in parking lots, the roof racks of every car seemed to primarily be transporting picnicking supplies!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran#!i=2762490818&k=qXHjLV4" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-qXHjLV4/0/M/YL0_8284-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our last dinner in Tehran, we'll be sad to leave all of our new friends</span></span>
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We left Tehran in the morning, picking up our bicycles at the hotel where we had left them for a week, then embarking on the 55km ride to the airport. Our flight was at 5am the next morning, but we were planning on packing everything, including our bicycles at the airport, so we left early in case we ran into any trouble. The ride to the airport was fairly straightforward, we only had to cycle the wrong way up an expressway ramp once. We rode ride into the airport terminal and got in line at the security checkpoint with our fully loaded bicycles, still wearing our helmets and security vests. Everything, including the bikes went into the x-ray machine!
<br />
<br />
We had about 12 hours to kill at the airport, many of these were spent rearranging our baggage once we found out that we were expensively over the weight limit for our flight. For the cyclists out there: be very careful flying with Emirates! There is no special fee for the bicycle, it is just added to your weight limit, and excess baggage rates are 30USD/kg. With our two bicycles we were 15kg overweight! We had misread the carriage rules when we bought the ticket (if you are wondering why we just realised this when we got to the airport). With enough panicked internet searching, we realised we could pre-purchase extra baggage saving us 30% or so, but we still felt like big dummies for not having figured this out ahead of time . Our second airport task was to get our bicycles boxed-up at the packaging office. We had been told on the phone that we would have “custom boxes” made on the spot. Well, the custom boxes consisted of strapping pieces of cardboard to the bike in what seemed to be a pretty random manner. There was no way in hell these “boxes” were going to survive a flight. The only way to save them was to use the stupid cellophane luggage wrapping and wrap the crap out of them. And even then they looked pretty bad.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran#!i=2837259253&k=xgHwt2s" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-xgHwt2s/0/M/YL0_8288-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Mastering the art of travelling light at IKIA (Imam Khomeini International Airport)</span></span>
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A day later, we were sitting in the back of a taxi, admiring the Hong Kong night skyline, our cellophane-wrapped bicycles strapped into the trunk. We felt like we had just landed on another planet.<br />
<br />
Stats for Tehran:<br />
<br />
Days of cycling: 0.5<br />
Kilometres cycled: 52<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3538399/embed" width="100%"></iframe>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Partially sponsored by </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;"> Expedition Support</span></div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12717601508498406428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-31417319542585968912013-10-11T23:16:00.000-04:002013-10-12T00:13:03.375-04:00On the Beaten Track in Iran<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm; }</style>
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We stayed four days in Tehran trying to
sort out onward travel plans. Our arrival in Tehran coincided with
the U.S. push to engage in war with Syria and subsequent opposition
from Russia and Iran. We monitored the news as much as possible,
hoping that a U.S. invasion was not inevitable. We already had doubts
in our hearts about our desire to continue onwards through Central
Asia and along with our paranoia about full-blown war in the region
we decided that we would fly out of Tehran. Getting the elusive
90-day Chinese visa (or even a 30-day visa) seemed to be next to
impossible, so we knew that we would have to break our journey with a
flight from Kyrgyzstan. We decided we didn't want to ride in the
desert anymore, it was way too hard on our morale. For whatever
reason we were pretty down on cycling and we needed a change of
scenery and/or climate. We booked a flight from Tehran to Hong Kong,
the only place (other than Canada) where we thought we could get the
Chinese visa we were looking for. This left us a little bit more than
a week to see as much of Iran as possible.
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Tehran is not exactly packed with
tourist attractions. But the southern bazaar district, where we were
staying, was busy and bustling and actually lots of fun to explore.
Like in Tabriz, the bazaar was active and uninterested in catering to
foreign tourists. Except for the carpet merchants, who were just
waiting to take our money (and did). </div>
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran#!i=2759267269&k=q26Gkq4" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-q26Gkq4/0/M/EMR_7583-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Tehran has some great revolutionary murals </span></span>
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<br />
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran#!i=2759514700&k=vVXhpB7" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-vVXhpB7/0/M/YL0_7999-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Getting lost in the Tehran Bazaar</span></span>
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We checked out Golestan Palace complex,
this year added to the UNESCO World Heritage List. Honestly it is a
really weird sight, although 400 years old, much of the complex was
reconstructed in the 1950s, on the orders of Reza Shah, who evidently
had terrible taste.
</div>
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-XDWRGmm" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-XDWRGmm/0/M/YL0_7955-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Mirror tiles are a key feature of the Golestan Palace Complex </span></span>
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<br />
Visiting the US Den of Espionage (site of the former American Embassy) was high on our Tehran to-do list. We visited on a Friday, which turned out to be perfect because we found the streets around the former embassy to be deserted. So despite warnings that photography could be met with suspicions and/or hostility, we were able to snap away at the famous murals that surround the building without any trouble (not that we lingered very long).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran#!i=2759353870&k=H8vJCMh" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/i-H8vJCMh/0/M/EMR_7648-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The first sight that greets you upon exiting the Taleqani Metro Station under the US Den of Espionage </span></span>
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After our four days in Tehran, we boarded a
train to the desert city of Yazd where we checked into our nicest
(and by no means the most expensive) accommodation in Iran, the Silk
Road Hotel. Housed in an old building centred around a huge courtyard
in the city's historic district, it has plenty of lounging areas, a
beautifully decorated air-conditioned room and a kitchen serving
delicious local dishes. What a treat!
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Old Yazd basically shuts down for the
hottest part of the day (10-4pm!), things slowly start moving in the
evening, but the pace of life seemed to be far from that of frenzied
Tehran. The architecture of the old city is completely adapted to
desert life and is ingenious, especially the wind catchers that
naturally cool and ventilate the homes. We explored the alleys of Old
Yazd in a few hours, rarely meeting any other tourists, despite the
city's popularity.
</div>
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Yazd/n-CJv9v#!i=2762366766&k=9cxjWdG" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-9cxjWdG/0/M/i-9cxjWdG-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Wind-catchers adorn many of the buildings in the old city </span></span>
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<br />
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Yazd/n-CJv9v/i-MtM9BBV" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-MtM9BBV/0/M/i-MtM9BBV-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Back streets of the old city in Yazd</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Yazd/n-CJv9v#!i=2762441615&k=GfmHG26" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-GfmHG26/0/M/i-GfmHG26-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;">Morning at the Jameh Mosque in Yazd</span></div>
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For our second day in Yazd we decided
to join the popular tour to nearby desert villages. The tour brought
us first to the village of Karanaq, sight of an abandoned palace
complex, then to Chak Chak, one of Zoroastrianism's most important
pilgrimage sights, then to the desert city of Meybod, home to an
ancient citadel and caravansarai. The most impressive of the three
sights was Karanaq, which just seems to sit beautifully untouched and
undeveloped in the middle of the desert (apparently the villagers
believe the complex to be haunted). Chak Chak is nothing more than a
small cave temple in the middle of nowhere, interesting only because
of its cultural and religious significance (and its isolation) but
not because of any particularly attractiveness. Meybod's sights were
also worthwhile, in particular the massive ancient refrigerator.
Although we try to avoid package tours, getting to these three sights
in the same day would have proven near impossible with public
transportation. We ended up with great travel companions and an
enthusiastic guide who spoke perfect English so we were very pleased.
</div>
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Meybod-Chak-Chak-and-Karanaq/n-SvnwN/i-p39XF2j" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-p39XF2j/0/M/i-p39XF2j-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The abandoned Karanaq palace complex</span></span>
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<br />
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Meybod-Chak-Chak-and-Karanaq/n-SvnwN#!i=2762438839&k=2Rtcztc" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-2Rtcztc/0/M/i-2Rtcztc-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;">The immense ancient yakhchal (ice box) in Meybod</span></div>
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From Yazd we bused to Esfahan, probably
Iran's most visited city. It is the former capital of the Persian
Empire and home to the country's largest concentration of historic
buildings: palaces, mosques, medressas, cathedrals, covered bridges.
The list of things to do in the city is intimidating. Truthfully,
Esfahan was a pretty big disappointment for us. It was the only place
in Iran where we felt we were being ripped off. The taxis were
overpriced, the hotel where we had a reservation had no room for us
unless we took a triple room and paid for the extra bed, we were
constantly being approached by “friendly” locals who were
actually trying to bring us to their shop (but it was Iran after all,
our bus fares were paid twice by strangers, as well as our dinner one
evening, so we shouldn't get too complainy!).
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The sights themselves were also a
let-down, in particular the Imam Mosque, it is reputed to have some
of the most exquisite tile-work in Iran, but we couldn't tell you.
The entire courtyard of the mosque was covered with canvas awnings
blocking the best views of the mosque. There was absolutely no
attempt to showcase the monument that hundreds of tourists were
streaming in to see (and paying admission for).
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Esfahan/n-zJL2Z#!i=2762501006&k=xD7zWj2" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-xD7zWj2/0/M/i-xD7zWj2-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The disappointing views of the Imam Mosque </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Esfahan/n-zJL2Z/i-Jdc4mTH" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Jdc4mTH/0/M/i-Jdc4mTH-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;">It wasn't all bad - we arrived at the Jameh Mosque 20 minutes before opening and the caretakers let us in early, so we had the whole place to ourselves</span></div>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Esfahan/n-zJL2Z#!i=2762484085&k=L8MkXfs" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-L8MkXfs/0/M/i-L8MkXfs-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We also stumbled upon the Mausoleum of Harun Vilayet and it's great courtyard </span></span>
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The covered bridges were lovely, but
with no water in the river were a little bit less spectacular than
they could have been. We could see the potential though. Our whole
visit of the city seemed like we were just checking items of a list
of things-to-see without really having any desire to do the seeing.
We were probably just too tired to get into it.
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Esfahan/n-zJL2Z/i-QqWNG6S" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-QqWNG6S/0/M/i-QqWNG6S-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Siosepol Bridge and a dry Zayandeh River </span></span>
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To end our Esfahan joys, we booked bus
tickets back to Tehran, making sure to ask that we were not in the
last seats, only to be ushered into the last seats. The compromise
was to give us the second last seats.
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Esfahan/n-zJL2Z#!i=2762481725&k=przpF48" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-przpF48/0/M/i-przpF48-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Partially sponsored by </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: 'Crimson Text'; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;"> Expedition Support</span></div>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12717601508498406428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-55007831375371566392013-10-09T02:35:00.000-04:002013-10-09T02:35:57.326-04:00Rasht, Masouleh, then a Bus to Tehran<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In Rasht, we had our host Javid waiting for us. We didn't have his address, but with our cell phone we managed to find him by handing the phone to random people several times. Each of our unsuspecting helpers got us a little bit closer to Javid after receiving his directions.
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We had a great three days with Javid, who is our age and shares an apartment in the city centre with two friends. He is freelance English teaching until his Canadian permanent residency is approved (his brother and family live in Winnipeg). In a few days we got a glimpse at the frustratingly slow process that aspiring immigrants have to go through before getting the chance to start building their life abroad. He has no way of knowing when his approval will come through but his bags are packed. We have our fingers crossed that by the time we are home in the spring he will be there too.</div>
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Rasht/n-tcBXs#!i=2759233961&k=5pnmdHt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-5pnmdHt/0/M/i-5pnmdHt-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> With our kind and generous host Javid </span></span>
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Iranians have dinner very late by our standards (maybe because of summer Ramadan), but Javid set a new record for late eating. On our first night, the third step in the rice-cooking process began at about midnight (had we known there were three steps we would have gotten him moving a little bit earlier). The process involved at least one hour of soaking the rice, a first cooking then a second cooking where oil is added and the rice is cooked until it forms a crispy golden brown crust on the bottom and sides of the pan. Bread or potatoes are added to the bottom of the pan to help form the crispy rice cake. Our meals were fantastic but we couldn't help teasing Javid who was so slow and meticulous about his food preparation.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Rasht/n-tcBXs#!i=2759219625&k=3sHfRrq" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-3sHfRrq/0/M/i-3sHfRrq-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;" style="color: #666666;">Picking out fish at the Rasht night market</span></div>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Rasht/n-tcBXs#!i=2759179122&k=GCr2TjT" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-GCr2TjT/0/M/i-GCr2TjT-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;">Javid's perfect rice! </span></span>
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To escape the humidity of Rasht (which was hovering around the 100% mark), we took a bus to the ancient (and popular) stepped village of Masouleh. Javid considered joining us after his English classes but it rained for most of the afternoon so we agreed to meet up again the next day. After spending the afternoon (pre-rain) sleeping on the hillside away from the crowds, we rented a room in a local house with a view over the village from an adorable old man who bargained pretty hard (he said we were getting a better price because we were foreigners - in Iran this was maybe believable). In the evening we watched the crowds disappear and the rain stop. It was one of the most relaxing days we'd had in a long time. In the morning we bought fresh flat bread, feta cheese and instant coffee and enjoyed the peace of the village before the crowds began to arrive again.
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Masouleh/n-4CGqT#!i=2760781844&k=Bf4pKfT" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Bf4pKfT/0/M/i-Bf4pKfT-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> It rained all afternoon in Masouleh but it was still extremely pleasant</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Masouleh/n-4CGqT/i-kkw9NZf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-kkw9NZf/0/M/i-kkw9NZf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The small but lively Masouleh Bazaar </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Masouleh/n-4CGqT#!i=2759142934&k=dNRGWn3" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-dNRGWn3/0/M/i-dNRGWn3-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Masouleh, population 500, is quiet in the morning before the tourists begin arriving</span></span>
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From Rasht we had decided that we would head to Tehran by bus. With half of our visa time expired, we still had to get to Tehran to arrange Uzbek and Turkmen visas, then come back to the coast and continue cycling. We thought of leaving our bicycles in Rasht, but decided that if the visa process was delayed we might not have enough time to meet all the visa deadlines so we would have to be prepared to get on another bus.
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Getting our bikes on the bus was quite an ordeal. We were greeted by an enthusiastic attendant at the bus station who helped us buy tickets and load our bicycles into the baggage compartment. Anywhere else we would have been reluctant to accept assistance without expecting a scam, but our guard down was in Iran. After we purchased our tickets and got onto the bus, the friendly attendant marched on and demanded that we pay him a fee for the bicycles, 5 times the price of a ticket. Initially we thought we had misunderstood, but when we realised what was going on, we got off the bus, unloaded all our stuff and got a refund for our tickets. Much arguing ensued, we even phoned Javid for assistance who argued on our behalf. The attendant was particularly aggressive but he was no match for me (I was of course my usual calm and collected self). Strangely, the bus didn't want to seem to leave without us. The attendant really wanted this lucrative opportunity and for some reason had the ability to hold up the bus. Eventually another employee came up and offered a bicycle fee of only 2 times the price of a ticket, we didn't know if he had any authority to make the offer but we agreed and reloaded our bikes. We had held up a bus full of passengers for almost 30 minutes. The employee who offered us the discount turned out to be the bus driver, who himself was also being held up by the attendant! What a strange arrangement.
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Rasht/n-tcBXs#!i=2759247552&k=4LHP65D" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-4LHP65D/0/M/i-4LHP65D-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> With the unscrupulous bus attendant, loading our bikes onto the bus for the first time</span></span>
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Tehran is a monstrous, sprawling city and we arrived at the Azadi bus station 10km from the city centre. After our unfortunate bus experience we decided that the simplest way to get to our hotel was to cycle and despite the crisscrossing expressways and insane traffic, we managed the ride with relative ease. The dense traffic actually worked to our advantage because for most of the ride cars were stopped bumper-to-bumper. We followed the hundreds of motorcycles and weaved passed cars using the outer lane. After successfully tackling the cycling nightmare that is Tehran, we were pretty confident we could handle anything.
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/n-Fwqwh/i-cW2vxWP" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-cW2vxWP/0/M/i-cW2vxWP-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Yann, snapped in brief quiet moment of our Tehran cycling experience </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tehran/n-Fwqwh#!i=2759249899&k=7fsNLQb" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-7fsNLQb/0/M/i-7fsNLQb-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Azadi Gate, symbol of Tehran </span></span>
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Stats for Tehran:<br />
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Days of cycling: 0.5<br />
Kilometres cycled: 13<br />
Metres climbed: 20<br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-3398601776433700172013-09-21T23:46:00.006-04:002013-09-21T23:46:34.045-04:00Along the Caspian Coast<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b style="text-align: left;">Three Days in Tabriz</b><br />
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We were looking forward to Tabriz, we had heard that the weather was cool (er) and we had two full days of rest planned there. By chance we rode into the city on Friday, so there was virtually no traffic (things really shut down on Fridays) as we made our way to the very centre of Tabriz. On the road from Marand we saw several Iranian cyclists, in full spandex cycling gear, which was a nice surprise. We heard later that Tabriz has quite a road-cycling scene.
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Our hotel (the Hotel Azerbayjan) was impersonal but it came with air-conditioning, a western-style bathroom and a free breakfast so the fact that they had exceedingly disinterested staff was easily overlooked. There were 4 other foreign tourists staying in the hotel, (they turned out to be the only foreigners we would see for the next 2 weeks).
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Tabriz's main attraction is its bazaar, the largest covered bazaar in the world, for centuries it was one of the most important trade centres in Asia. It is a hub of activity and still a truly working bazaar, with absolutely nothing (save for a few carpet vendors) geared towards foreign tourists. The Tabriz Bazaar is exactly how we pictured a Middle Eastern market and we loved it.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz/n-bHgBR#!i=2754585626&k=86Fj6Cf" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-86Fj6Cf/0/M/i-86Fj6Cf-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The covered halls of the Tabriz Bazaar</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz/n-bHgBR/i-mbjBJDF" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-mbjBJDF/0/M/i-mbjBJDF-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666; text-align: center;"></span>
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<span style="color: #666666; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;">Outside the Tabriz Bazaar</span></span></span></div>
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Tabriz's second biggest attraction is the Blue Mosque, which is a bit of a misnomer. It used to be blue.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz/n-bHgBR/i-ZLC4gRS" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-ZLC4gRS/0/M/i-ZLC4gRS-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The blue part of the Blue Mosque</span></span>
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After sight-seeing, we used our newly purchased Iranian cell phone to contact Hamed, a former professional road cyclist who had agreed to meet up with us and show us around the city. Hamed came to pick us up at our hotel from where we drove to El-Goli Park (definitely the number one tourist destination for Iranians). We had traditional Tabrizi food, tasted pickled garlic for the first time and had tea overlooking the park. Hamed suggested that we might want to consider altering our planned route to Tehran. Our route had us avoiding climbing over the Alborz Mountains, but we would be continuing to cycle through desert with very few towns along the way. Our friends John and Imran had been robbed by fake police officers a few weeks earlier along this route, so we were eager to hear suggestions of alternate routes. The new route would have us cut towards the Caspian Sea, following the coast. The appeal of trees and sea was enough to overcome our hesitation at having to climb over a mountain range twice.
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<b>To the Caspian Coast</b>
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Our first few days of riding from Tabriz were pretty dreary, but not difficult. More desert scenery with not much in the way of suitable shady spots to take breaks. Traffic on the road continued to be largely made up of Iranian holidayers, who often stopped to photograph us, share food or ask us if we needed assistance. We spent our first two nights in road-side hotels above restaurants, which we were happy to find. Although we would have been perfectly fine sleeping in city parks where many of the Iranian tourists spend the night (we just wouldn't have gotten any sleep). As one young Iranian put it “we aren't crazy enough to spend money on a hotel”.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-GBbF4jw" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-GBbF4jw/0/M/i-GBbF4jw-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The scenery for most of the ride from Tabriz to Gilan Province</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-jkxMd9V" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-jkxMd9V/0/M/i-jkxMd9V-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our road-side hotel in Bostanabad</span></span>
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On our third day of riding we ended up in the largish city of Ardebil where shortly after arriving we were offered accommodation by two different young locals. After turning down the first offer, we felt that the second offer must have been a sign that we weren't meant to sleep in the hotel. We were actually standing in front of one debating whether it was too expensive when we were spotted. We agreed to follow Bahman, an avid couch-surfer who spoke good English. He led us to his family's home a few minutes from the city centre, where we had our own room. None of his family members seemed surprised by our presence. The only problem with being hosted is that we felt obliged to socialize and to stay up late, even if we had a big day of cycling and a very early morning ahead of us. Being the only woman I was able to go to bed early, but Yann was forced to stay up with the many men who had showed up to hang out (probably specifically with him). This began a string of hosting that didn't end until we arrived to Tehran!
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We had contacted a host, Azim, who lived near Astara (the Caspian town at the border with Azerbaijan). Using Warm Showers (the cyclists' version of Couchsurfing) we had connected with lots of potential hosts along the coast and Azim was the first who had responded to our request. From Ardebil we had a 110km ride to get to his place. The ride from Ardebil included a 1500m descent from the desert into the green, forested province of Gilan. While this would normally increase our average speed, it took us hours to get down the side of the mountain. The area is extremely popular with local tourists and the traffic is completely backed along the road in both directions. Vendors line the road selling fresh nuts and berries, flagging down all passing vehicles. We were literally mobbed by the hundreds of Iranian tourists picnicking or driving along the highway. By the time we got to Astara we had posed for dozens of photos and had been stopped along the road dozens of times. We had been offered food, drink, phone numbers, e-mails.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-ftsXmdm" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-ftsXmdm/0/M/i-ftsXmdm-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> One of many photo stops along the descent to Astara</span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-b5GBFDH" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-b5GBFDH/0/M/i-b5GBFDH-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A particularly chaotic photo stop along the same descent </span></span>
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With 30km left to Azim's place we thought we were finally free to start pedalling but right as we were leaving the city we were stopped by a journalist who wanted to do a piece on us. He ended up interviewing and filming us for over an hour, getting shots of us riding along the highway in different spots. It didn't help that he didn't speak a word of English. Who knows what got lost in translation in that interview!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-MLT9D87" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-MLT9D87/0/M/i-MLT9D87-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> TV interview in Astara </span></span>
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Once the interview was over we were stopped by 3 different English teachers in each of the small villages that we passed (they would phone each other to say that we heading their way). Right before we finally pulled into Azim's place, we were stopped by the sweetest family from Southern Iran who were so concerned about us, they asked if we needed money!
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<b>More Iranian Hospitality</b>
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We were very grateful to finally enter the peaceful home with views of the sea and the surrounding kiwi groves. Azim and his family have hosted hundreds of tourists and have an entire floor dedicated to guests. We were given lots of privacy and had our own bathroom and kitchen. Nonetheless, Azim's wife cooked us most our meals! What a relax!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-rfwBXB4" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-rfwBXB4/0/M/i-rfwBXB4-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> With Azim and his three boys at the Caspian Sea </span></span>
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From Azim's we cycled to our next host in the town of Talesh, only 60km away. We were hosted by Sam and his wife Zahra, a lovely young couple who showered us with delicious meals and even bought our groceries for the next day of cycling. The big surprise however, was that Sam and Zahra run a private English academy and we were invited to speak to the students. Classes run from 6-9pm every night in three one-hour sessions. We were rotated in 10-15 minute periods between each of the classes. It was exhausting but the students were adorable and hilarious. We happened to be there on a girl's night (boys and girls alternate days). Each class had a few outspoken girls who really kept the conversations going. My favourite comment of the night was “thank you being clean, a lot of tourists who come to visit are very dirty”. I thought about how stinky and filthy we would have been if we hadn't had the chance to go to Sam's ahead of time and shower (and borrow clothes!).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-C9Jprgc" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-C9Jprgc/0/M/i-C9Jprgc-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Visiting English classes in the coastal city of Talesh </span></span>
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After classes, we were greeted by Azim and his family who had been invited to dine with us at Sam and Zahra's. We had a huge meal featuring roasted chicken stuffed with walnuts and garlic and various other treats. Sam and Azim had spoken multiple times on the phone (due to their various hosting obligations) but this was the first time they had actually met in person! Sam lives in a house right next to his parents and multiple siblings. Every night the children and grandchildren head to Sam's parents to share tea together. Once Azim and his family had left we were invited to take part in the evening ritual and meet Sam's parents and some of his siblings, a highlight of our visit.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-wjwZHwn" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-wjwZHwn/0/M/i-wjwZHwn-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Dinner at Sam and Zahra's with Azim and his family </span></span>
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The next morning Zahra sent us off with a bag full of left-overs and groceries for the road. We had a picnic in a pine tree grove along the highway. We rode to Rasht, where we had yet another host waiting for us! The previous night at dinner, when Azim had heard that we didn't have a host yet he immediately phone his friend Javid in Rasht to arrange our stay!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Tabriz-to-Rasht/n-7XdPc/i-c4ZnzJt" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-c4ZnzJt/0/M/i-c4ZnzJt-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Leaving Sam and Zahra's place </span></span><br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3393943/embed" width="100%"></iframe>
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Stats for Tabriz to Rasht:<br />
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Days of cycling: 6<br />
Days of rest: 3<br />
Kilometres cycled: 484<br />
Metres climbed: 2664<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1<br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span><br />
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YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-34593820117653056052013-09-12T22:13:00.000-04:002013-09-12T22:13:30.184-04:00Welcome to Iran<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We left the Armenian border town of Agarak early in the morning not knowing how smoothly immigration procedures would be. We had been told that the border operated 24 hours a day but when we arrived the immigration hall was empty and there were people sleeping outside with their bags. We poked around the buildings and saw two sleeping employees and not much else. Shortly after settling down on the sidewalk to wait for opening time a group of Iranians showed up, woke up the employees and got things moving. The border is in fact open 24 hours a day but only if you can be forceful enough to get someone to stamp you out of Armenia.
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On the Iranian side things were up and running and everything went fairly smoothly, although Yann was brought into a separate room and asked for money “for photocopies”. He managed to get away with 1000 AMD (a few dollars) but was a bit freaked out. The border guard also stamped him in and out of Iran which we didn't notice until later, thank goodness because we would have worried about it the whole time.
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We had a pretty straightforward day of riding planned, about 70km along the Iranian-Armenian border, following the Aras River to the town of Jolfa, location of a border crossing linking Iran to the Azerbaijani enclave of Nakhchivan. The area is sensitive due to the proximity with the Armenia-Azerbaijan border and there are guard towers along the highway every few kilometres. We had read not to take any pictures, so we have nothing to show of the imposing mountain scenery along the river valley.
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There was considerable traffic along the road, mainly Iranians on holiday (you can tell by the packed car with suitcases on the roof rack) heading to and from Armenia or Azerbaijan. Almost every car slowed down to wave, ask us where we were from, take a video or just yell out “Welcome to Iran!”. On several occasions there were backed up cars along the highway from cars driving next to us for so long. It was hilarious although sometimes a little bit nerve wracking as people aren't exactly used to driving with cyclists.
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In Jolfa, having some difficulty finding a hotel, we were spotted by a local English teacher and her father who pulled over to help us. We checked into a room above a busy local restaurant which we would never have found without their help. In the restaurant we ate next to a Tehrani family who gave us their contact information in case we needed any help while we were in Iran. The employee at the front desk wanted to take us out for a picnic in the evening (we were way too tired to do anything but lie in our air-conditioned room).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Norduz-to-Tabriz-/n-PbF6g#!i=2707179731&k=nwLPfNc" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-nwLPfNc/0/M/i-nwLPfNc-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Jasmine and her father who helped us find a hotel in Jolfa </span></span>
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Our next destination was Marand, a city halfway between Jolfa and Tabriz. Having spoken to other cyclists who had travelled the same route we had been told to “expect a welcome from Akbar in Marand”. It wasn't clear how or when this was going to happen but we headed off not thinking too much about it.There wasn't very much climbing on either of our first two days in Iran, but the riding was still difficult due to the heat and the lack of services on the roadside. In the 70km from the Armenian border to Jolfa we passed one small town. On our ride to Marand, there was a similar arid, hot, emptiness which can be a little bit disconcerting when you're cycling. We were able to find food and water at a small mosque on the side of the road, but only after 40km of pretty lonely riding.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Norduz-to-Tabriz-/n-PbF6g/i-zZ84JD3" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-zZ84JD3/0/M/i-zZ84JD3-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The road between Jolfa and Marand </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Norduz-to-Tabriz-/n-PbF6g#!i=2707179731&k=nwLPfNc" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-4czRw5v/0/M/i-4czRw5v-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The scenery isn't overly varied</span></span>
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About 20km from Marand a car pulled up in front of us and out popped a small Iranian man who walked up to us, handed us two bananas and exclaimed “Welcome to Iran, I am Akbar”. He told us he'd meet us in Marand and hopped back into his car.
About an hour later, on the outskirts of the city, we spotted Akbar cycling towards us. He had for us two orange drinks, a bottle of ice water and a photo album. His album was full of photos of the cyclists that he has greeted in the last 17 months (most holding their orange drinks). Among the photos, we spotted our friends Imran and Jon (UK) and Andy and Rosy (Switzerland). Akbar also handed us a carefully hand-written page with contacts all over Iran, part of a cyclist support network established by a group of Iranians. Akbar has taken it upon himself to greet every single cyclist that comes through Marand. We were only the 2nd and 3rd Canadians he has had welcomed but the 186th and 187th cyclists!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Norduz-to-Tabriz-/n-PbF6g/i-DdcdLdw" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-DdcdLdw/0/M/i-DdcdLdw-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The kind and amazing Akbar! Greeter of cyclists</span></span>
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We rode through town with Akbar leading the way, it seemed like everyone in Marand knew him. People smiled and waved like we were on parade. Many taxi drivers have Akbar's number, so when they spot a cyclist they can summon him for an official greeting. Amazing! We were escorted right to our hotel door. In the evening Akbar came to pick us up (in his car) for a tour of the city. He and a friend treated us to kebabs and corn on the cob and tried to get us to come to a wedding. We felt bad turning down an invitation and going back to the hotel so early (it wasn't actually early, but Iranians seem to stay up really late) but we were seriously tired. Smiling, positive Akbar didn't seem to mind at all and dropped us off a the hotel, making sure that the staff knew to feed us dinner. We felt overwhelmed by his kindness.
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But alas! It didn't stop there. On our way to Tabriz the next morning, Akbar pulled up with a picnic breakfast ready for us. And, knowing the route so well, he had planned it so that we would eat at the top of the day's only major climb. We had a breakfast or Iranian flatbread, cheese, jams, helva and tea before our downhill ride to Tabriz. What a welcome to Iran!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Iran/Norduz-to-Tabriz-/n-PbF6g/i-QHZKh7h" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-QHZKh7h/0/M/i-QHZKh7h-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Akbar found us on the road to bring us breakfast</span></span>
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<iframe src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3341404/embed" height="500px" width="100%" frameborder="0"></iframe>
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Stats for Agarak to Tabriz:<br />
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Days of cycling: 3<br />
Days of rest: 0<br />
Kilometres cycled: 216<br />
Metres climbed: 2285<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 0<br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span></div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-29085457039036341382013-08-30T08:29:00.000-04:002013-11-04T04:11:58.532-05:00Defeated by Armenia's Southern Mountains<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We had a few problems in Yerevan, the first being a Chinese visa problem and the second being a gastrointestinal problem. I will get to the problems later because they ended up altering the course of our trip significantly (at least it felt significant to us).
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Our first few days in Yerevan were lovely. Our hostel was right in the city centre and we were within walking distance to parks, restaurants, markets. The streets and patios were absolutely packed with people every evening when the weather was perfect. We took a trip to nearby Geghard Monastery and Garni Temple, we visited the huge weekend market, the war museum and victory monument and made an obligatory stop at the Armenian Genocide Memorial. We met lots of interesting travellers at our hostel and we drank wine and shared stories. And drivers stopped at all the cross-walks! Yerevan, unlike Tbilisi is a city built for pedestrians.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan/n-c6Zhx#!i=2684542094&k=XVrnZtR" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-XVrnZtR/0/M/i-XVrnZtR-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Early morning glimpse of Mount Ararat from the steps of the Cascades </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan/n-c6Zhx#!i=2684550112&k=zr58LSH" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-zr58LSH/0/M/i-zr58LSH-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Republic Square </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Geghard-and-Garni-/n-P4X9H#!i=2684544351&k=hG3S227" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-hG3S227/0/M/i-hG3S227-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Geghard Monastery, an easy day trip from Yerevan </span></span>
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The first thing we did in Yerevan was attempt to obtain Chinese visas. Armed with everything we thought we needed we made our way to the embassy. After watching the total ass of a consular officer slowly scrutinize our papers, we were handed a receipt. We would be granted a 14-day visa but we would have to wait a week to get it. This was not very good. Of course, we had no case to argue, our "flight bookings" and "hotel reservations" had us leaving from Yerevan in a little over a week for a two week trip to Beijing, why would we need a rush-service 30 day visa? We hesitated over whether or not to walk back to the embassy and get our passports back, but we decided that this would at least get us into China. From there we could catch a cheap flight to another country (flights from China are way cheaper than from neighbouring Central Asian countries). The problem was that we only had a 21-day Armenian visa, and we would now have to waste 8 days of it in Yerevan. Instead, we decided that we would begin cycling towards the Iranian border, leave our bikes somewhere, then take a bus to-and-from Yerevan to pick up our visas. It wasn't perfect but we couldn't really afford to delay our departure.
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Then we got sick. Really sick. Yann was sick first, sleeping for an entire day and pushing back our departure from Yerevan by a day. Then I got sick, ending up on the floor of our hostel bathroom at 2:30am unable to get up. This pushed back our departure from Yerevan another two days. Bringing us to visa pick up day. We picked up our visas and as we had feared, they were unusable: we had been given one month to enter the country and we needed at least two. We didn't leave Yerevan until the next day. And when we left, still recovering from our illness, having eaten very little in days, we were dejected at our Chinese visa failure. Plus we now had only 6 days to cycle with no rest if we were to make it to the border before our Armenian visas expired.
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Our first day of riding from Yerevan was absolutely brutal. It was 40C, we climbed 1500m, we rode for more than 12 hours and we didn't even make it to our destination. We ran extremely low on water and our steri-pen water purifier died after purifying 2 litres (it's supposed to do 50). We passed no store. Actually there was virtually no sign of civilization for the entire climb and the only water source we found was a pipe running into a cow drinking trough. I broke down in tears several times. The only reason I made it was because Yann strapped half my bags to his bike and spent the rest of the climb patiently repeating to me that I would make it. When we made it to the top of the pass and spotted a store where we could buy water I felt overcome with emotion. I was so relieved.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG/i-RkzwZsk" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-RkzwZsk/0/M/i-RkzwZsk-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The barren landscape of the climb from Ararat Valley to Vayots Dzor </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG#!i=2695122380&k=fqNvp4R" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-fqNvp4R/0/M/i-fqNvp4R-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Emilie smiling on the outside, but not on the inside </span></span>
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In the tiny village of Chiva we were saved by our amazing host family at the bed and breakfast where we spent the night. The minute we arrived they offered to make us dinner and began preparations. We were served the best meal we'd eaten in weeks: salad, yogurt, cheese, bread, omelet, potatoes, barbecued pork, all fresh, mostly with ingredients from the family's garden. We ate outside under a trellis covered in grape vines, next to a pomegranate tree as the sun set and the weather cooled. We were very disappointed that we couldn't stay another day.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG/i-BHCdncJ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-BHCdncJ/0/M/i-BHCdncJ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Downhill to the village of Chiva </span></span>
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Our second day, while not as brutal as the first, was tough and discouraging. Again we climbed all day, but this time Yann got bad stomach cramps and we faced a strong headwind for the better part of the day. I broke down once again in tears, even before the day's real climbing began, and again Yann kept me going (reloading my bags onto his bike). We both knew that if we didn't continue, the next day would just be longer and harder. We didn't come anywhere close to making it to our destination. We stopped about 500 metres from the top of the Vorotan Pass with winds actually knocking us off our bikes. We camped on the side of the highway and had a so-so night of sleep with traffic and loud winds keeping us up.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG#!i=2704347679&k=DK79dxQ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-DK79dxQ/0/M/i-DK79dxQ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Following the Arpa River the climbing was more gradual, but the wind was strong </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG#!i=2704413631&k=DtLDJ9C" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-DtLDJ9C/0/M/i-DtLDJ9C-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Happy to be out of the wind and making dinner </span></span>
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Day three began with the 500 metres that we hadn't climbed on the previous day. Our elation at reaching the top of the pass quickly faded as we rode up and down for the rest of the day. It didn't help our spirits that the winds didn't die down: we were faced with an almost immobilizing headwind ALL day! I moved on to the next stage of mourning, I was no longer crying, I was yelling. The wind was so loud that I could barely hear myself, so it was a nice release. After 6 hours of riding we made it to our previous day's destination! We still had several more hours to go.
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG/i-Dr6mP6c" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-Dr6mP6c/0/M/i-Dr6mP6c-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Making it to the top of Vorotan Pass </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG#!i=2704210585&k=v4kF4Vn" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-v4kF4Vn/0/M/i-v4kF4Vn-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Rolling hills before the descent to Goris</span></span>
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When we arrived in the lovely town of Goris and checked into our really lovely bed and breakfast, we barely had time to walk to a restaurant and have dinner before having to start our bedtime preparations. We had 3 more days to go before we could rest. Even more metres to climb than we had already done. When our alarm rang at 5am the next morning, I suggested that we couldn't really continue. After a lengthy discussion, we made the very difficult decision to arrange for a taxi to the border. Why was the decision so difficult? We aren't really sure, but it felt like a failure to not be able to cycle every kilometre of our journey. We were worried that we would regret our decision or that we would feel compelled to hitch a lift every time the riding got difficult.
After a day of doing nothing in Goris we loaded our bicycles on to a taxi roof rack and were driven the roughly 100km to the top of the Meghri Pass. We didn't regret our decision to get a ride, it felt a little bit liberating. Actually after seeing the climbing involved, it was pretty clear that we never would have been able to make the journey in two days (not that we knew this when we made the decision to get a ride).
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG/i-gF2mqdw" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-gF2mqdw/0/M/i-gF2mqdw-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Loading our bikes onto the taxi roof rack for the ride up to Meghri Pass </span></span>
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<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG/i-6B2x2q9" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-6B2x2q9/0/M/i-6B2x2q9-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Descent from Meghri Pass (it isn't quite as rewarding when you haven't gotten to the top yourself) </span></span>
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We rolled down the 2,000 metres to Agarak, the last town on the Armenian border with Iran where we spent the night. Our bodies and minds were recovering and the next day we would be crossing the border into Iran!
<a href="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/Armenia/Yerevan-to-Agarak/n-cZQhG/i-S8d4t66" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ye-photographs.smugmug.com/photos/i-S8d4t66/0/M/i-S8d4t66-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Outside our B&B in Agarak, a few kilometres from the Iranian border </span></span>
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Stats for Yerevan to Agarak:<br />
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Days of cycling: 3.5<br />
Days of rest: 1.5<br />
Kilometres cycled: 288<br />
Metres climbed: 3852<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1</div>
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3231642/embed" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span></span></span> </div>
YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-23315112601004186052013-08-04T13:15:00.003-04:002013-08-06T08:29:58.329-04:00Northern Armenia's Holiday Spots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We left our campsite on the outskirts of Vanadzhor taking a route that bypassed the city centre. Although “shorter” in distance, the condition of the roads didn't save us much time (maybe it lengthened our trip). But who cares? It's nice to avoid the highways. We made our way through the back roads, making a few wrong turns, passing friendly locals and even spotting a few gems from the past.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2663680116&k=wZTFbSp" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-wZTFbSp/2/M/i-wZTFbSp-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Leaving our Vanadzhor campsite on back roads </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2663676170&k=jgnRMXP" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-jgnRMXP/2/M/i-jgnRMXP-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> When we took this photo a nearby man proclaimed "comrades good" </span></span>
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Our first destination on the way to Yerevan was the resort town of Dilijan a 700m easy, gradual climb from Vanadzhor. Dilijan is surrounded by densely forested hills and even with our first day of cycling in the rain the ride was (the comparison of Dilijan to Switzerland didn't seem like much of a stretch). It was fun to bring out the rain gear that we'd been carrying for two months without ever using (but Molly and Kyle seriously outdid us with the hazmat suits that they got courtesy of an oil worker in Georgia).
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2663697457&k=92nKvdS" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-92nKvdS/2/M/i-92nKvdS-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our first day of cycling in the rain </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2663699438&k=KLhbcjb" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-KLhbcjb/2/M/i-KLhbcjb-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The 20km descent into Dilijan </span></span>
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Yann and I spent a rest day in Dilijan, relaxing and enjoying the cool alpine climate. We parted ways with Molly and Kyle who were on a much tighter schedule than us. From Dilijan we were a little bit worried about our almost 1000m to Lake Sevan, our biggest concern being the 3km Dilijan Tunnel that we would be slowly climbing through. We crossed a cyclist who said that he had inhaled enough fumes in the tunnel to counteract any of the positive health effects of his cycling trip (and he was riding in the opposite direction, downhill). We also heard reports that it was unavoidable and others that said we could take a bypass road (Google Maps had no answers either). We set out hoping that we could find a way to avoid it.
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It took us most of the morning to climb to the tunnel, multiple switchbacks making for easy grades and a way better ride that we had hoped. The Armenian drivers continued to be fantastic, slowing down at every turn, never passing blindly and generally being cautious and smart on the mountain roads. Other than worrying about the tunnel the ride was great.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2670761626&k=MpzNk9d" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-MpzNk9d/1/M/i-MpzNk9d-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A long, gradual climb out of Dilijan towards Lake Sevan </span></span>
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Near the entrance to the tunnel we spotted a turn-off for a detour, we could see that by taking the detour we were adding a few hundred metres to our climb but we couldn't have cared less. The road we gradually switchbacked its way up the mountain to the Sevan Pass (2114m) through the small villages of Semyonovka and Tsovaghugh before rejoining the highway at Lake Sevan. Despite the fact that the road is in good condition and completely quiet, vehicles seem to overwhelmingly use the tunnel, we crossed two cars and one tractor in the hour or so it took us to bypass the tunnel. We had one of our favourite riding days to date, perfect weather, beautiful scenery, no traffic, what a success!
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2670758197&k=RjWbqH4" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-RjWbqH4/1/M/i-RjWbqH4-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Avoiding the Dilijan Tunnel by climbing to the Sevan Pass (2114m) </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2670763557&k=z6t855R" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-z6t855R/1/M/i-z6t855R-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The road over the Sevan Pass was all ours </span></span>
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Camping at Lake Sevan was a little bit less of a success. This was our own fault. Once we saw what the touristy section of the lake was like, we should have rode on. But it's hard to ride on when you aren't sure where to go or what to expect. We paid to camp on one of the many beaches that line the Sevan Peninsula near its famous monastery. The peninsula is only 70km from Yerevan and is an understandably popular place for escaping the city's summer weather, we should have been prepared for the crowds. But each beach seems to be equipped with an exceedingly loud stereo system and a limited selection of Russian techno music (played on repeat). The actual "beach" at the place where we stayed only took up a tiny fraction of the property, most of its shoreline was occupied by a gigantic concrete patio for the bar. To be fair, we were at one of the lake's most inexpensive establishments and the staff were very nice and did their best to make sure we were comfortable. There was just no privacy and no peace.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2670760791&k=Mn7D38f" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Mn7D38f/1/M/i-Mn7D38f-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Our private campsite at Lake Sevan </span></span>
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When we left the lake we made sure to visit the beautiful Sevanavank Monastery which we did early enough to be the only tourists on site. So we did in fact get a few moments of peace in the end.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Vanadzhor-to-Dilijan/30800130_R8Nbhg#!i=2670755287&k=WPw7mJW" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-WPw7mJW/1/M/i-WPw7mJW-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Morning at Sevanavank, before the tour buses arrive </span></span>
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Stats for Vanadzhor to Yerevan:<br />
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Days of cycling: 3<br />
Days of rest: 1<br />
Kilometres cycled: 147<br />
Metres climbed: 2116<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 4</div>
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/2976009/embed" width="100%"></iframe>
<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span> </span></span></div>
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YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-24506452841029177712013-08-02T09:16:00.000-04:002013-08-04T13:14:01.175-04:00Into Armenia Through the Debed Canyon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We managed to be on the road by 6am leaving Tbilisi. The city is not particularly an early riser so we didn't have to battle much traffic. Compared to the highway entering Tbilisi from the west, the road south towards Armenia was virtually deserted. We thought we might be able to change money and get lunch before crossing the border but there was not much as far as we could tell.
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We settled for instant noodles and instant mashed potatoes on the Georgian side of the border and decided we'd try our luck purchasing our Armenian visa without any Armenian currency. </div>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663578473&k=PwTHX48" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-PwTHX48/2/M/i-PwTHX48-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Instant mashed potatoes: lunch at the Armenian border </span></span>
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While we were enjoying our lunch, <a href="http://whereismolly.staticunderground.com/">Kyle and Molly</a>, two American cyclists pulled up to greet us. They were also about to cross into Armenia and we agreed to cycle together to our next stop. Kyle and Molly began travelling in March on foot but got bored and decided to buy bicycles. They have only their small backpacks strapped to the back of their bicycles, we were tanks next to them.
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At the border, the customs officer on the Georgian side wouldn't let us into Armenia before posing for a photo with him (which he sent to us later). And aside from a surly visa issuing officer, things went smoothly. They even let us cross into Armenia, take out money at the ATM then come back to pay for our visas.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2673143819&k=7mbFqRD" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-7mbFqRD/1/M/i-7mbFqRD-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Crossing into Armenia (photo courtesy of Georgian border guard) </span></span>
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Like our previous border crossing we noticed a dramatic change in the riding conditions. The drivers were suddenly courteous, gave us lots of space and didn't drive very quickly. It was cool and the sky overcast, wonderful weather, if not a little gloomy. As we passed roadside vendors, our baskets were stuffed with fresh peaches. We were even treated to coffee and snacks by villagers who called us over when they saw us resting on the side of the road.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663585074&k=hWkbJXv" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-hWkbJXv/2/M/i-hWkbJXv-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Armenian drivers are so cyclist-friendly that we can ride side-by-side </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663580209&k=rB33ndN" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-rB33ndN/2/M/i-rB33ndN-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Armenian peaches and Armenian hospitality! </span></span>
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Entering Armenia, the highway almost immediately begins following the Debed River, through an impressive canyon. The area is dotted with ancient monasteries and fortresses and we were hoping to visit a few of them while passing through. The monasteries are of course hidden away, several hundred metres above the river, on the plateaus atop the canyon. This limited the number of sights that we would actually visit. We had planned to sleep in Alaverdi, the first "large" town in Armenia, about 120km from Tbilisi, and use it as a base to explore the nearby attractions. Cycling into Alaverdi it felt like we were travelling back in time. A giant Soviet-era copper smelter dominates the entire west bank of the canyon. Russian Ladas and Pav-model buses (circa 1968) ply the streets.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663586531&k=tnz5vrW" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-tnz5vrW/2/M/i-tnz5vrW-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Entering Alaverdi, it's hard to miss the copper smelter </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663751359&k=5jn6JL7" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-5jn6JL7/1/M/i-5jn6JL7-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Pav-model buses (circa 1968) at the Alaverdi bus station </span></span>
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Somehow, we had decided that our guesthouse was at the top of the canyon, above the city centre, 300 metres up but less than 5km away. At the time, we were under the mistaken assumption (thanks Google Maps) that we were climbing to Alaverdi. Had we stopped to think and to look around it would have been clear that we were leaving the city centre, but we didn't stop, we just climbed (for almost an hour). We were in fact climbing to Sadahart, a suburb of Alaverdi. As we approached Sadahart our hopes of finding a place to sleep were fading and Yann and I felt pretty bad about having dragged two people up the mountain with the promise of a cozy guesthouse.
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At the top of the climb, we stopped for water and asked a storekeeper where we could sleep. She called over a little girl who was instructed to lead us. We followed gratefully. Not only was there a place to sleep but there was a gigantic Soviet-style hotel in the middle of the village square! Why it was decided that this was a good place to build a hotel is a mystery, but what a relief. We were greeted by a friendly English and French speaking woman who showed us to large, somewhat renovated rooms that were less than $20. We were also lent a propane stove, pots and pans to cook with along with a complete set of dishes (there being no restaurant in town). We made dinner, drank wine and cocktails and enjoyed the cool mountain weather and the hot showers of the Debed Hotel.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663730449&k=FHqdCkq" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-FHqdCkq/1/M/i-FHqdCkq-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> The massive Hotel Debed in Sadahart (Sanahin) </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663591141&k=G9Ggsq3" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-G9Ggsq3/2/M/i-G9Ggsq3-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Cooking dinner on the hotel balcony </span></span>
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Kyle and Molly inspired us to slow down a little bit as we discussed onward plans (we usually try to leave before 7am, they try to leave before noon). After a good sleep-in, the four of us opted to stay another night at the hotel so that we could visit two of the area's most famous monasteries Sanahin and Haghpat. Not by careful planning, we happened to be a few minutes away from Sanahin Monastery, which Yann and I visited on our own in the morning. In the afternoon the four of us travelled by public bus to the neighbouring village to visit Haghpat Monastery. The monasteries were similiar but lovely.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663777604&k=5p9zBMH" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-5p9zBMH/1/M/i-5p9zBMH-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Celebrating eleven adventure-filled years together at Sanahin Monastery </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663604649&k=dV2thkG" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-dV2thkG/2/M/i-dV2thkG-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Inside Sanahin Monastery </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663831664&k=VsGpgzb" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-VsGpgzb/1/M/i-VsGpgzb-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Haghpat Monastery </span></span>
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The real excitement of Alaverdi was riding the cable car from the city centre up to Sadahart where we were staying. Purportedly making the steepest climb of any cable car in the former USSR, this ageing beauty took a little bit of courage to get into, but we joined the commuters who didn't seem to find it too scary. </div>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663845790&k=C2tpmtC" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-C2tpmtC/1/M/i-C2tpmtC-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Get me out of here! </span></span>
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From Alaverdi (Sadarhart) we climbed to the biggest city in the area, Vanadzhor. The road continued to be free of much traffic and the drivers who passed us did so carefully (except those with Georgian plates). We rode through two completely pitch-black tunnels which were a bit terrifying, but the cars did not even attempt to pass us and carefully waited while we made our way through. </div>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663702258&k=RxRNr6v" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-RxRNr6v/1/M/i-RxRNr6v-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Preparing to enter one of two unlit tunnels along the M6 highway </span></span>
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We spent the night camping on the outskirts of Vanadzhor. We chose a site away from the main highway, tucked behind the railway tracks. While it wasn't the most picturesque of settings, it was a convenient place to stop because we didn't feel like entering the city. The weather was cold enough that we needed our sleeping bags and jackets, a first on the trip. We had to lie through a lightning storm that kept us awake and a little bit on edge (we're grounded right?) and then a mysterious gas leak that filled the air with the smell of propane. Once we convinced ourselves that we weren't going to blow up (combination of lightning + gas leak) we fell asleep.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Armenia/Debed-Canyon/30800089_zHCTzz#!i=2663726716&k=SgM83WT" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-SgM83WT/1/M/i-SgM83WT-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Our last night in the Debed Canyon, camping outside Vanadzhor </span></span>
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Stats for Tbilisi to Vanadzhor:<br />
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Days of cycling: 2<br />
Days of rest: 1<br />
Kilometres cycled: 163<br />
Metres climbed: 1857<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 7<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="500px" src="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/2976002/embed" width="100%"></iframe>
<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span> </span></span></div>
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YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-3565748962941710732013-07-29T12:30:00.001-04:002013-07-29T12:30:23.178-04:00A Week in Tbilisi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Our stay in Tbilisi marked our longest time away from cycling since leaving Istanbul six weeks ago. The main reason for our long stay was that we planned to apply for both our Iranian and Chinese visas in the city, thus beginning the annoying Central Asian visa quest circuit. China is actually a new addition to the list of countries whose visa processing is long and frustrating. Only recently have they added much stricter requirements for obtaining a tourist visa. They now ask for things like a list of complete hotel bookings for the duration of your stay in China, a flight in and out of the country or sometimes even a letter of invitation from a tour company with whom you will be travelling. The embassy in Tbilisi also listed the additional requirement of “being Georgian or having residency status in Georgia” (how did we miss that?). Despite this, we made our way to the Chinese consular services office to see if we might be able to secure a visa. We were told that with a letter of invitation we could apply for a visa. About 30 e-mails to Chinese tour companies later, we abandoned the idea of getting a visa in Tbilisi. </div>
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Getting our Iranian visa on the other hand was a relatively smooth process. We had applied for “authorization codes” through an Iranian travel company before leaving Canada. These codes are sent to the embassy ahead of time and we were theoretically pre-approved for the visa. Other than the embassy staff momentarily not finding our codes, we had our visas in one working day (we applied on Friday and had them on Monday) after filling out an application form and giving them all ten of our fingerprints (they didn't ask us for our knuckle prints but there was space for them on the form). </div>
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At the embassy were two other cyclists, British friends Imran and Jon, doing basically the same route as us (but at twice our speed). We met up with them twice in Tbilisi while we spent the weekend waiting for our visas. We also had two nights with our American friends Amy and Brian who happened to be staying in the same Tbilisi hostel as us. Brian is a terrific cook and on his initiative we made cheese burgers, baked potatoes and glazed carrots for dinner on our first night in the city. As Americans, they are unable to cycle through Iran, so they are taking the “Northern route” across the Caspian Sea. We expect to cross paths with them again somewhere in China or Southeast Asia (we'll never catch up to Jon and Imran).
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Tbilisi/30671651_hLc5hT#!i=2664027438&k=JrNbhC9" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-JrNbhC9/0/M/i-JrNbhC9-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Showing off our Iranian visas at the Tbilisi embassy with Jon and Imran </span></span>
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Tbilisi doesn't really have a week's worth of sight-seeing, or maybe we didn't have the energy to devote a week to sight-seeing. Whatever the reason, with the exception of a few strolls through Old Tbilisi and a half-day trip to the neighbouring town of Mtskheta we concentrated our energies on finding good cheap meals. Georgian food is pretty heavy but delicious and inexpensive. Yann would eat khachapuri (cheese stuffed bread) three times a day if had the choice but our favourite dish was badrizhani nigvzit (fried eggplant with walnut sauce) which we bought every time we saw it on a menu.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Tbilisi/30671651_hLc5hT#!i=2663550645&k=Nv23VNX" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Nv23VNX/1/M/i-Nv23VNX-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> View of Old Tbilisi from the top of the cable car </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Tbilisi/30671651_hLc5hT#!i=2663556022&k=KhF2gMZ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-KhF2gMZ/1/M/i-KhF2gMZ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Backstreets of Old Tbilisi </span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Tbilisi/30671651_hLc5hT#!i=2663568363&k=X38CkLp" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-X38CkLp/1/M/i-X38CkLp-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in Mtskheta </span></span><br />
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Tbilisi's biggest problem is general lack of consideration for pedestrians. There are virtually no traffic lights and crosswalks are completely ignored. Pedestrians are either forced to use unlit, urine-soaked underground walkways or make their way across multiple lanes of high-speed traffic. Around our hostel we memorized the best (least scary) places for street-crossing but getting around the city on foot was extremely unpleasant (forget getting around on a bicycle). Aside from the food, we weren't particularly torn about leaving the Georgian capital.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Tbilisi/30671651_hLc5hT#!i=2663575706&k=BV95D2Q" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-BV95D2Q/1/M/i-BV95D2Q-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> No traffic, a rare sight in Tbilisi </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span> </span></span>
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YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29968768.post-55953263118606793002013-07-23T10:59:00.001-04:002013-07-24T07:29:30.491-04:00Sightseeing in Central Georgia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We scheduled two days of rest in Akhaltsikhe to recover from our climb over the mountains from Batumi, but also because we wanted to visit some of Georgia's tourist attractions in the area. We didn't end up getting much rest in Akhaltsikhe because as usual we packed our schedule with activities.
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Our first excursion was to the thousand-year-old Sapara Monastery, sitting in the mountains above Akhaltsikhe about 12km away. Rather than finding a taxi we decided that it wouldn't be too difficult to ride up to the monastery without our saddle bags. We set out in the late afternoon estimating a two-hour ride. After twenty minutes of climbing on a road that could barely be qualified as a road (averaging 4km/hr), with storm clouds filling the sky, we agreed to a ride from a group of young men heading up towards the monastery for a picnic (a drinking picnic).
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Akhaltsikhe/30653214_kQVXvm#!i=2644263395&k=f4Sx5KS" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-f4Sx5KS/2/M/i-f4Sx5KS-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Storm clouds appeared right as we set out from Akhaltsikhe to Sapara Monastery </span></span>
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They dropped us off about halfway to the monastery, but they brought us past the worst part of the road and the remaining climb was easy. The skies cleared right as we arrived at the monastery and we had a perfect weather for visiting and for our ride back down into Akhaltsikhe.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Akhaltsikhe/30653214_kQVXvm#!i=2644289777&k=rHknFQJ" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-rHknFQJ/2/M/i-rHknFQJ-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Late afternoon at Sapara Monastery</span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Akhaltsikhe/30653214_kQVXvm#!i=2644303599&k=TsDbcJn" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-TsDbcJn/2/M/i-TsDbcJn-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Riding down to Akhaltsikhe from Sapara Monastery</span></span>
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On our second day visited Vardzia, a 12th century cave monastery, carved out of a mountainside along the Mtkvari River (Georgia's longest river). Vardzia is 60km from Akhaltsikhe and is the area's most well-known tourist attraction. In the morning we made our way to the bus station to find the daily mini-bus to Vardzia. In the parking lot of the bus station, we were approached by a driver who offered to take us there and back. The price we were quoted for the private car was about twice that of public transportation. I was feeling unenthusiastic about having to endure motion sickness (I had packed a few plastic bags for the road) and the idea of taxi was very appealing. Yann was really not into the idea of a taxi but he went along with it.
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Right before setting off, a few taxi drivers approached our driver and began yelling at him. From what we understood, he was undercutting the others and they weren't very happy. He may not have been part of the official Vardzia taxi cartel. It wasn't clear to us what was going on, but in the end it appeared that another driver was next in line for the overpriced tourist drive to Vardzia. Our original driver did not put up much resistance when we were escorted to another taxi, so we assumed that by going with a new driver we were respecting the laws of the parking lot. We were charged more of course.
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Our driver drove like an ass. When I told him to slow down he pointed at his chest and said “me good driver, no problem”. Yann was really pissed about our new arrangement and didn't trust our driver (who had been pretty aggressive in wrestling us away from the other driver). When we got back to Akhaltsikhe he annoyingly tried to get even more money from us (we refused). But on a positive note, we had visited Vardzia and the Khertvisi Castle in about half the time it would have taken by bus. And our driver had at least been friendly while he toured us around.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Vardzia/30691104_XxwCGL#!i=2645943825&k=Ls6bKnC" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Ls6bKnC/2/M/i-Ls6bKnC-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Approaching Vardzia</span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Vardzia/30691104_XxwCGL#!i=2645973178&k=SnK3vrx" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-SnK3vrx/2/M/i-SnK3vrx-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Vardzia cave monastery</span></span>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Vardzia/30691104_XxwCGL#!i=2645982545&k=NLZTwrX" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-NLZTwrX/2/M/i-NLZTwrX-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Khertvisi Fortress</span></span>
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In the late afternoon, we visited Rabati, a newly restored castle complex overlooking Akhaltsikhe. While Georgia hopes it will be a huge draw for tourists, for us, it wasn't as interesting as original sights and didn't feel very authentic. There were more security guards than there were visitors.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Akhaltsikhe/30653214_kQVXvm#!i=2645995334&k=Tv9m4wd" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Tv9m4wd/1/M/i-Tv9m4wd-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> The newly restored Rabati Castle complex</span></span>
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From Akhaltsikhe we got back on our bikes for a short 50km ride to Borjomi, a town famous as the source of Georgia's carbonated mineral water of the same name. As we weren't visiting the nearby national park, there wasn't a tremendous amount of things to do, other than drink water from the source: a warm, fizzy, salty, eggy gag-inducing delight. The water is thought to have healing properties which is why Yann and I drank a full mouthful each.
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Borjomi/30671632_TtpN25#!i=2651791527&k=zXssj36" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-zXssj36/2/L/i-zXssj36-L.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Borjomi mineral water, straight from the source</span></span>
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After Borjomi, we had about 30km of riding on a secondary highway before reaching the country's largest highway (Ⴑ-1) , which up until then we had managed to avoid. The highway is two lanes and undivided for most of the fifty kilometres from the turn-off to the Borjomi road until Gori, our next destination. Most of the country's traffic is concentrated on this road, so you can imagine how pleasant it is for cycling. We tried a few detours, but none lasted very long so we pushed on, often riding in the gravel shoulder.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Gori-1/30671642_VF9gvP#!i=2647740518&k=VBJnSCq" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-VBJnSCq/1/M/i-VBJnSCq-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> The busy </span></span><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ⴑ-1 highway between Khashuri and Gori</span></span>
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Gori is most famous as the birthplace of Iosef Jughashvili, later known as Joseph Stalin. Stalin continues to hold national hero status in his hometown whose largest thoroughfare is known as Stalin avenue. Gori's affection for Stalin seems to be one of the reasons that the city is such a draw for foreign tourists. The city is home to the Stalin Museum, mainly a collection of photos of the former leader. In front of the museum is the house where Stalin is said to have been born and raised. We didn't take a rest day in Gori, so we visited all the “Stalin sights” soon after arriving in the city. </div>
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<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Gori-1/30671642_VF9gvP#!i=2647769506&k=Msx3N3h" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-Msx3N3h/1/M/i-Msx3N3h-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Stalin Avenue, Gori</span></span>
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After a short afternoon nap we got back on our bikes and cycled to Uplistsikhe, a cave complex, similar to Vardzia but far more ancient. Our ride to and from Uplistsikhe brought us to over 100kms of riding for the day. We left Borjomi at 6am and we weren't back at our guesthouse until 8pm. But we knew that from Gori we were heading to Tbilisi for at least a week of rest and visa applications so we decided not to miss out on any of the area's sights.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Gori-1/30671642_VF9gvP#!i=2647910871&k=VjdsZQP" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-VjdsZQP/1/M/i-VjdsZQP-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Uplistsikhe cave complex, about 13km from Gori</span></span>
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Our 90km ride from Gori to Tbilisi was pretty crap. We continued on the busy Ⴑ-1 highway and the traffic increased the closer we got to the city. Bicycles, tractors and other slow-moving vehicles are technically prohibited from using the highway, but police passed us regularly, continuing to not enforce the rules of the road. There was a wide shoulder until about the last 20km into Tbilisi when it disappeared to give way to five lanes of traffic into the city. The cars slowed down at this point, so in some ways it was less scary than when we were being passed by huge speeding trucks. We managed to ride all the way to our hostel, right in the centre of the city where we had an air-conditioned room waiting for us.
<a href="http://photos.ye-travels.org/Georgia/Gori-1/30671642_VF9gvP#!i=2647673921&k=txsrmJw" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos.ye-travels.org/photos/i-txsrmJw/0/M/i-txsrmJw-M.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px;" /></a><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Bicycles are prohibited from riding on </span></span><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ⴑ-1 highway (this rule appears to be unenforced)</span></span>
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Stats for Akhaltsikhe to Tbilisi:
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Days of cycling:
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Days of rest: 2<br />
Kilometres cycled: 246<br />
Metres climbed: 1403<br />
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 5<br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Partially sponsored by <span style="color: #38761d;">Mountain Equipment Coop</span> Expedition Support</span></span>YandEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06896419759602892914noreply@blogger.com0