The Silk Road

Ah the Silk Road Samarkand, Tashkent, Bokhara – what places could be more evocative of the orient?

Well I didn’t go to any of those. I went to Kashgar. The Silk Road runs from modern Xian in what is regarded as the North-West of China. China has had many capital cities but Changan (as it used to be called) was the capital most of the time from pre-Christ until after 1,000 A.D. The Silk Road is more a concept than a road but is being pushed in modern times as a tourist concept. China has effectively waxed and waned in size for a long time but what is modern Xinjiang Province (or more accurately Autonomous Region) has often been under very tenuous control from the centre and there have been troubles there in relative recent times (the 1990s) although the situation is pretty calm these days.

Let us start with size. Xinjiang is big. It is a bit further from East to West than North to South. From Guangzhou you fly for 5 hours to get to Urumqi, which is about a third of the way across the place. You then fly for another 1½ hours to Kashgar and you are getting towards the western edge. Add Germany, France & Spain together and you are getting on for half way there. I am, of course, too lazy to do the numbers properly, that will have to wait for the book.

Anyway I arrive in Kashgar and what do I find – Muslims. Now before you start thinking that I am a racist let me explain. China is a non-religious country. It is not that they are anti-religion, it is just that they are not much interested. It is one of the things I like about the place. I find very little attractive about religion, unless you class paganism as a religion – particularly the middle-eastern religions. Don’t misunderstand the situation, the government spends quite a lot of money rebuilding Buddhist and Taoist temples and many people go to them and bow, light candles etc. but they are a small proportion of the population. They would probably spend a few bob on Christian Churches if there were any interest. The cynics amongst you will no doubt say or think something about bread and circuses. Anyway the fact that this is a Muslim city makes it interesting. The people are over 90% Uighur (pronounced Wuger) and are Turkic. Their language could probably be half understood by Turkish people. Now is this odd or what. I am several thousand kilometres from Turkey and there are no Turkic peoples between. This is not as odd as it may seem. Those of you who know your history will know that the Turks came from “The East” – as did the Germans, Franks etc. It is just that the Turkish movement was only a few hundred years ago, not 1600 or 1700 years ago.

What is the city like? Not Chinese. The centre of the city is the mosque. However, that is not what the city is really about. It is what it has always been, a trading place. There are lots of markets for various things. The touristy stuff like knives and carpets is Ok (although it is a little disconcerting when you find a “Made in Belgium “ label) but the local stuff is much more interesting.

Ever bought bread that lasts for weeks? Join the club. These are big spirals – a bit like pizza bread but actually they taste OK. You see them being laid out in large numbers in the shops and obviously they are not freshly baked but who cares, they are nutritious and not crawling with weevils. I didn’t eat many but that is because I like food to taste nice – not just of pizza base.

Rusting steel drums on roofs. (“Word” rejected “rooves” and Collins 21st Century dictionary doesn’t mention it but I could have sworn that is what we used to say when I was a kid.) Be honest, this is a subject that you have often dwelt upon.

There are quite a few of these things. You walk down a back street and there they are – lots of them sitting on somebody’s roof. Nearby you are likely to see lots of galvanized buckets and similar. There must be a connection but I am too stupid to understand the process.

As you know, I have a penchant for beer. Although this is a Muslim city it is not too Muslim. There is a delightful area, near the city centre that is a distinctly relaxed area where you can sit around and buy food as you need it from the local street vendors who also sell BEER.

I was travelling with Chinese friends and, bless them they were only trying to help, they were warning me – a vastly more experienced traveller than any of them – that I should be careful, these people were not Chinese and I should be careful. China is quite a racist country. Of course, we did not eat Xinjiang food, we had to go to indifferent Chinese restaurants in stead.

There is a mausoleum on the edge of the city. There is a dodgy story about a concubine associated with the place. She was captured by the Imperial Army, grew to be the emperors favourite and was ordered to commit suicide by the Emperor’s mother. This may well be true but for you and I the interesting things are the building itself and the sarcophaguses (sarcophagi?) inside. The building is covered in a sort of mosaic; this is the bit that I found interesting – the patterns themselves were nothing special but the concept …

I lied about the sarcophaguses – they are no such thing. They are representations of coffins – the bodies are buried below – but they are in appropriate sizes and kept decorated with simple ribbons and swaddling. Interesting.

Off up the Karakoram Highway. I don’t know about you, but there are not many roads that I can name (and I don’t mean Oxford Street or Broadway I mean real roads) but after the late lamented Route 66, The Khyber Pass, The Pan-American Highway and one or two others what is left?

The Karakoram Highway is, therefore, irresistible. It was only built in 1982 and opened to the public in 1986 but I regard it as one of the great roads of the world. What a chance.

I was travelling with 5 other people. A couple are my friends and they have a son. They brought along another very nice couple so when the journeys split to two cars I travelled with the other two, which was fine.

The Highway is a trading road between China and Pakistan and follows the old reading route. I do not hold a Pakistan visa, and neither do my friends, so getting to the border is the limit of our ambitions. However, this is a few hundred kilometres away so it was a reasonable trip. So how do you travel? Obvious isn’t it – you get a taxi. My friends had been off to investigate and got a deal that would take us most of the way to the border in the afternoon, go to the top in the morning and back to Kashgar the following evening. This was for the princely sum of 1,100 RMB (110 Euros) per taxi – we did need two. As you know my middle name is caution and I wasn’t keen on the driver doing all that distance the following day and ending up coming down some winding pass with a knackered driver at high speed in the dark so I suggested taking an extra day. How much? Another 100 RMB! So that was agreed by everybody.

Off we go. The first hour is flat across the Taklamanakan Desert. This is the real deal, dry dusty and almost no sign of life higher than a few centimetres except the odd oasis of a village occasionally. We are accompanied by three sets of poles with associated wires. Three! Now one could possibly be for telephones, although I doubt it, so why three? My conclusion was that there were three different sets of power lines. China isn’t big on repairs. If something breaks you don’t repair it, you get another one and that is what I think had happened here.

I took lots of photos of graveyards! In a country as big and varied as China these vary a lot. The particular type here was a clay structure a metre or so high with a dome shape. I assumed the body was underneath because these things do get slowly eroded and I never spotted any skeletons inside.

We joined a river and started to climb – slowly. The first thing of note that happens is that the road is blocked by a landslip. Not an auspicious start. I was left wondering what lay ahead but it was easy enough to get round – just drive off the road. This is a good quality road, only two lanes but well tarmaced most of the way. There was the odd stretch of road that hadn’t been recently repaired and, sometimes, tributary streams had covered the road with rocks – these bits had to be taken slowly. I was left wondering why a JCB or similar wasn’t located in the area to clear the rocks once a week or something like that but who am I to teach the Chinese about road maintenance.

Up we climbed but the basic scenery did not change. This was still desert, it just happened to have a river running through it. Even right next to the river there were barely any signs of greenery. The geology is interesting. The Indian tectonic plate is still pushing the Himalayas and behind them Xinjiang. This is very new land, constantly changing and constantly eroded so this riverbed was full of rocks and the “rocks” around were conglomerates of the rocks and mud brought down by the river and now being eroded again. There is no strata to the rocks at all; they are so new that there has never been any significant pressure to create the strata, and then the rocks are immediately pushed up by the force coming from the south and eroded again.

The road twisted and turned quite a lot but there was only one pair of hairpin bends between the start at 1100 metres above sea level and a lake where we stopped at 3,600 metres. We had stopped at a hamlet of sorts to see how poorly the people lived (and, of course, have the opportunity the buy some crap or other). There the houses were stone but by the Lake they had turned into Yurts. These are round tents – normally about 3 metres across – normally associated with Mongols but also used by Kyrgyzics – the local people at this point. It was a great place to watch local women still weaving by hand.

I have missed one item of considerable interest to me. At about three thousand metres we had passed a small lake. Wow, you say, how interesting. However on the far side of the lake there were some hills rising a few hundred metres higher. OK, nothing interesting or unusual so far but the sides of the hills were covered in very large sand dunes. I have never seen anything like it. I have no idea how they form or what keeps them there but they were (and probably still are) spectacular and very odd.

Off again over a pass at 4,200 metres (with just one more pair of hairpins) and down into a basin with a little bit, but not much more, vegetation. We arrived in Tashkurgan – our destination for the night at about 6. Here the population are Tajikis and you can see the difference between them, the Kyrgyzics and the Uighurs. However, what makes this odd little town interesting is beer and prostitutes! I was happy to sample the former and admire the latter. The reason for this combination of delights is that Tashkurgan is the first stop for traffic coming over the border from Pakistan – a country where these relaxations are strongly discouraged. I don’t know how many of the latter there are but there were quite a few Russian looking young ladies around.

Off again in the morning and we get about 2 kilometres out of town and wait for an hour and a half. Why? The area between the town and the Pakistan border is controlled by the army and a permit is required to go further. We had arrived before 10 – the hour, approximately, of opening of the office. Processing didn’t take long but it required a certain Major to sign the permits so we, and a few other carloads of people, had to wait. Don’t you love bureaucracy?

Off we go again slowly upwards. The scenery hasn’t changed too much – brown-grey, rocky and not much greenery with lots of large mountains cropping up through the gloom – it was never clear blue skies all the way to the top. Bactrian camels – surprisingly healthy looking – start to crop up quite regularly.

About every 50 kilometres there were belching ugly looking chunks of machinery that were producing tarmac. This is because the whole road on the Chinese side is being rebuilt – our driver told us that the whole exercise would be completed by the end of August (this was late July) to a good standard that any car would be able to drive along at a good speed. This, however, led to a couple of delays. Normally there would be a diversionary track around the roadworks but not on a couple of occasions so each time we had to wait an hour or so whilst the tarmac was laid and covered in stones.

As we approached the border at 4,600 metres four things changed. The area finally got greener with some grass! I also saw a very large mountain – I cherish the idea that I saw K2 (I have seen Everest) but, of course I have been too lazy to check. There are glaciers and streams everywhere as you approach the Khunjerab Pass and you see Himalayan Marmots – these are rodents about the size of hares that have burrows – lovely.

The top is great. There is a border post a couple of hundred metres short but our permit allowed us to go to the top and wander round – I even went 10 metres down the other side into Pakistan. You are only allowed to stay ten minutes but, in true Chinese fashion, it is much more important to take photographs of you at the top next to the border sign than to look around at the fabulous panorama. Ten minutes became twenty and then thirty – who cared? The border guards did. A bus came over from Pakistan, stopped and people got off. They were immediately herded back on the bus by the Chinese border guards and sent packing down the Chinese side of the valley.

Back down we go passing the trucks coming up very slowly. The gradients are low (there had been just one more pair of hairpin bends) but the altitude means that the trucks are only moving at 10 or 15 kph. Back to Tashkurgan and a look at what is laughingly called “Stone City”. This is mud and of dubious vintage but you can let your mind loose and imagine what it is all about.

At this point there is a mild clash of cultures. We are high up in beautiful mountains and we have spent almost all the time in a car. Not my cup of tea – I want a walk. The town is in a basin and it would take an hour to reach a decent hill to climb so on both evenings that we were there there wasn’t enough time. I suggested that I be dropped off at the lake that we had visited on the way up and make my own way back to Kashagar – bus, truck, hitch or whatever. The idea of leaving me to fend for myself was not acceptable to my friends – they can’t get their heads round the concept that I have travelled the world on my own and survived very easily.

In the morning the position was not resolved. The drivers – hardly surprisingly - wanted to get home claiming that the melting of the snow by late afternoon brought many rocks on to the road – forgetting the fact that they would have been going down the road much later on the original 2 day schedule. I suggested a three hour stop but eventually settled for two.

So back to the lake and off I go. This is a lake, so flat, and there are no lumps around the edges so the walk is truly flat and even but it is 3,600 metres. Thinking of the altitude, off I went at a good place but not flat out. I catch up with a small camel train – 4 camels – and just about manage some sort of conversation with the leader but this does not last as they are diverging from the circuitous route. I am going great and reach the top of the lake in an hour. (The Rough Guide says it is a days walk round the lake, the locals estimated 5 hours.) However, as you know lakes are temporary features that fill up so it is a mess of mud and water at the top so I have to keep going in the same direction to a village.

At the second house I get offered a tea but have to decline because of time pressure – a pity. A yurt further on had a sign saying “Resturant” but again I didn’t stop. I regret these two missed options – I am sure that both would have been interesting. I phone my friends and tell them to drive back up the road to meet me. They cannot get the idea that I have walked round 2/3rds of the lake in 100 minutes. Forgive the conceit but I felt great – I had stretched my legs wonderfully at this height.

Back to Kashgar and on to the next destination – Lake Kanas.

This sounds easy but this is Xinjiang. It takes 2 flights to get somewhere near but not close. An hour or so is required on a bus to get from the airport town to the next town. This is a beautiful place – the prettiest town that I have been to in China. There are no large buildings but well designed almost alpine looking houses, streets full of flowers, clear blue skies, no crowds etc. I really liked it.

So we hire a couple of taxis, as usual. Unfortunately these were tiny – about the old Fiat 650 size with the usual Chinese drivers i.e. ropey. This was a real contrast with the driver in Kashgar – who was the best driver that I have come across in China. Anyway, off we go and once we get going we end up in a large glacial valley. This is green with quite a few fir trees. A bit like a valley in the Alps or Scotland with a vast number of goats, sheep and cattle. Actually I haven’t seen many yurts or camels in Scotland but I may be ignorant after 5 years in China. Perhaps there are loads of hippies living in yurts in the frozen north. Of course global warning may have brought camels to the glens but they would be dromedaries not bactrians.

Our destination is not Kanas but some other place where we may be able to get a place to stay. The drive takes 5 hours and the last hour is in the dark on a true mountain road with a dodgy driver – I am not comfortable. We arrive about ten and there are plenty of places to stay in this true tourist town. Essentially it is a Mongolian village which has succeeded in attracting tourists in large numbers. The reason for this is unclear, it is a nice enough place but not outstanding – it is the drive there that is interesting, if scary. We are up before the lark to photograph the sunrise. This is Ok but nothing that unusual. After that what to do? Wander round the village and the valley, see a few eagles and not too much else. After lunch what to do? Off to Kanas. Of course this 3 hour drive costs rather more than the 5 hour one the day before but the drivers have us by the proverbial short and curlies.

We get to Kanas. The reason that we had not gone there originally was that it was alleged to be booked up. This is never really true in China and our drivers assured us that they knew a woman who could put us up. Sure enough there was a place. It was a shithole but relatively cheap. I don’t argue with the locals so we stayed.

The reason that I had been happy to go to Kanas was that my mate Bill had said that the walking was great so the following day I set off on my own bright and early up the side off the lake. This is on a wood walkway – China is good at these – for a couple of hours. Tourists rapidly thin out. I was the only Guailo I saw in the three days that I was there so I mean Chinese tourists. They are not adventurous – they like structure and follow the rules. I have no such problems. I followed the path to the end and had long before left any other people behind. I had hoped to emulate my feat of a few days earlier and walk round the lake. Some hope. The wooden walkway ran out and I tried to carry on but after half an hour of blundering around along the lakeside and the woods surrounding it progress was ridiculously slow so I turned back. This gave me an opportunity to study a bird of prey from above. This beauty was tracking back and forth along some cliffs alongside the side of the lake a few tens of metres above the lake but below me. I am a terrible twitcher but I can only work out from my birdbook that it was a grey faced buzzard. One thing I do know is that it was wonderful to watch.

Back to the area of hotels via a rather interesting lunch of – how shall I put it – yogurt with no taste or body but it was wet and, of course, I was thirsty.

I had decided that the afternoon should be spent walking down the river that is the outpouring of the lake, where there is no path. Hmm. After 2 hours I gave up and it took me twenty minutes to get back. I had managed less than 2 kilometres blundering about in the mud, marshes, streams, undergrowth etc. Not my most successful outing.

The following day it was off to the Black Lake. I assumed that this was a couple of hours stroll but I was a little inaccurate in this. 3 of us were ready to leave at 9, 3 were not. Irritation is a travelling companion of travelling with people but you can usually overcome this – despite other peoples (never mine, of course) bad manners. What irritated me was that the latecomers decided that they wanted to go by horseback so why had we had to wait?

Anyway the three walkers wandered off, soon to be overtaken by the riders and their guide. Nice walk, a steady incline amongst trees and farmland – nothing special if you discount circling eagles – lots of them. I have not often been out walking with lots of eagles overhead. Needless to say, even after consulting my birdbook, I could not identify them. Onwards and steadily upwards with a minor but slightly irritating interruption of some guy hassling us for money – it can happen anywhere in the world at any time of the day in any location.

Up we went and up again. It was not difficult and I could have gone faster but it took us 5 hours. One of the things I liked was that I could have gone significantly faster but I was held up by people half my age – I felt great. At the top there was no snow but there was snow below on the north facing slopes opposite; it must have been well over 4,000 metres. I was greeted by a lovely panoramic view of mountains all around us with the “Black Lake” below. I didn’t venture down to the lake because I was assured that it was marshy all round and there did not look like there was much life there. It could have been a peat bog by the looks of it.

The other two had lagged behind and when they arrived I told them that I was off back down straight away - I had set myself the objective of catching up the horses even though they had 40 minutes start. Ego or what? Ego triumphed; I caught them half an hour before the end whilst the horses had to take a rest! The ageing process is something I find unpleasant – I am not built to accept it. The idea of growing old gracefully is not in my thought processes. I know, I know, doing anything gracefully is not in my thought processes.

That was it really. A lazy day the dodgy drivers in the Fiat 650 imitations are summoned and we get back for a night in the beautiful town ( I am sure it is called Beijing) and then on the bus back to the airport town where my friends leave. I stayed for an afternoon of failed lizard hunting in the surrounding hills. Disappointing.

The following day it is back to Urumqi and thanks to the friend of a friend who had organised a lot of my trip. This is a typical Chinese city and not very interesting. The only thing of note was that I spent 40 dollars playing a shooting game with tennis balls. 40 dollars! I should have read the sign.

Back to home. There was one final sting in the tail. I arrived back at my apartment block and couldn’t get in. It was 1.30 a.m. and I was due to fly to Europe at 8.30 p.m. the sane day so the option of wandering off and finding a hotel (or getting my friends up) was not looking good. I worked out after a while that somebody had bolted the door to the block. There was only one flat being used at the time – all the other foreigners were away – so I guessed who it was. I shouted. I can shout very loudly. The neighbours lights went on, people came out to see what the mad guailo was doing etc. A light went on in the flat of the only lady in residence but she did not appear. I broke the door down – it was easy. The bolt would not have kept anybody out for long. I reached her flat and made a lot of noise banging on the door and an altercation ensued. She would not open the door; can you blame her?

And you thought I was a nice calm guy!