First of all we’d like to apologise for the lack of blogging over the last few months but lack of internet availability has made it difficult to communicate with the outside world. Secondly the last two months of the mission have been truly the most epic yet and it is fair to say we have all gone completely bonkers after a gruelling winter in the Stan countries and China.
Leaving Tashkent was like stepping out of a warm cosy house into a horrifying blizzard. The mercury on the thermometer kept on dropping as we made the journey towards Kyrgyzstan and eventually over the Tien Shan mountain range which lead us to the almighty China. We thought the hotel registration demons had escaped until they returned to haunt us one last time with a Mike Tyson right hook to the grid. The day was closing in as we struggled up the main mountain pass of the day at 2400 metres in heavy snow with a clogged up bike full of slush slowing paces down to around 4mph. At around 2000 metres we found a workers accommodation block that provided us with what we thought was a bed for the night. Lying on our beds after being fed from the canteen we were relieved to have somewhere warm to stay until in marched three policeman asking for our passports. After a nail bitingly lengthy discussion between the three men and a translator who had travelled one hour down the road from one of the local villages we were told we weren’t allowed to stay and were instructed to cycle over the pass to a Cay house/hotel 16km away. At 9pm in the pitch black at -15 degrees we made the climb over the top cursing every Uzbek policeman in the land. Finally reaching the top where it was touching -17 all we wanted was a fast decent to allow us to get our heads down. Fat chance that that was going to happen, the slush mixed with the grit and ice was more damaging to our brakes than a Black and Decker belt sander making us walk the three miles down the side of the mountain trying to stop our 40kg bikes dragging us with them. We would have to say that this has to be up there with one of the lowest points of the trip so far but it was a huge relief to arrive in the hotel, albeit at 2:30am!
Riding through the last part of Uzbekistan eating our standard plov one evening we couldn’t resist for the last time the all too common trademark ‘flick of the neck’ signifying the commencement of a few shots of vodka, most likely leading to a few too many. Sure enough we went out with a bang that night which made for a fairly brutal day on the bike the following morning.
A few days later we found ourselves entering another country, Kyrgyzstan late at night on sheet ice as we hadn’t anticipated how far the border would be on the map… and the slipperiness of the ice. A few km’s down the road we entered Osh which was to be our final destination before the mountain crossing into China. Scrambling around cheap clothing markets the following day trying to find as many things as possible to keep us snug in the snow proved to pay off in the long run. Preparation was key for us. We looked at as much information as possible on the mountain passes looking at as many blogs as we could get our hands on to see what we were in for. Good weather seemed paramount after reading a few horror stories of people having to be rescued off the mountain as a snow blizzard approached at over 3000 metres. We even compiled our own makeshift profile of the crossing with relevant altitudes and towns that we could stop off at, even adding a cheeky ‘death zone’ one and two at the high altitude parts for a bit of drama. Setting off on our first day we were like duracell bunnies buzzing with the challenge ahead helped by the completely clear blue sky and the lack of ice on the road. Apparently in this part of the world the globalised repetitive screaming nature of the word ‘hello’ from every human being under the age of 12 has been replaced with ‘goodbye’. Baffled as we were when an excited wave upon approach was followed up with a farewell gesture. Towards the end of the day we had made it up the first pass no problems. In the cold at altitude it’s not the climbs that are the problem as you can keep nice and warm rather it’s the descents which freeze you to death numbing the extremities in your body. Throw sheet ice on top of that and it’s like trying to navigate your way through London in rush hour blind folded with your legs tied to the back of your head. We were also forced to stop various times on the way down as the hands painfully began to feel like they weren’t attached to our arms. To warm them up two of us would unzip our jackets and place each others arms snugly in each others armpits which had to have looked frighteningly Brokeback Mountain esq. On a few occasions we didn’t stop soon enough producing an agonising pain of the blood entering back into your hands when they finally did find some warmth.
Over the next four days we would encounter the most gruelling, beastly climbs of our lives at altitudes of 2600m, 3615m and 3777m. The reward for this hardship was the most breath taking views we’ve ever seen. At such a remote part of the world and completely covered in snow it was a majestic moment getting to the top of a pass and looking down at the road we’d came from and the never ending mountains in the background. We were lucky in that every day was completely clear, despite being -20 degrees we enjoyed a relatively comfortable crossing. Arriving at the final border town, Irkeshtam at textbook night time for the Mission Oz team we celebrated with a few cold ones in this strange town of old disused train carriages.
So onwards it was to China, a cultural shock to the system marking the end of the neck flick, plov, conventional cutlery, Cay houses, crazy old drunken men and more vodka than a Smirnoff distillery!
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