This section from Mengla 勐腊 to Yiwu 易武 is the forty-sixth instalment of my bicycle loop through South-East Asia from Yunnan – if all goes according to plan. Titled “Slap the Belgian!”, it is simultaneously published on Crazyguyonabike.com, where you’ll find a map with the itinerary and many other bicycle diaries by me and others. I hope you’ll enjoy.
Oh, I know, I should’ve planned better. But planning takes time, too, and today is the first time I’ve been blessed with proper internet access since – well, since Bangkok. I have a blog backlog of more than seven entries so I spend the better half of my morning uploading pictures, writing captions and completing ride accounts.
Now it’s dark, cold, and my clothes smell even though I’ve washed them several times with semi-hot water. I’ve eaten a little but I was too tired to shovel food down my throat, instead leaving it on the table for the flies to feast on. What a rotten day – even though it looked rather promising when I was eyeing the map yesterday.
The day hadn’t started out that badly. I left my hotel at 11am and don’t bother to grab breakfast. On the way, I think. The mistake I always make: not eating while I can, but rather putting it on the back burner to when there is no more food or – in this case – too expensive. I don’t know why I keep doing this.
I’m on a branch of the G213 that leads to an apparently hot tourist attraction: the sky-gazing tree 望天树 (parashorea chinensis). Parashorea trees are the alpha males of the world of flora. They sacrifice girth for length and grow extremely tall in order to be the first in line to get some much-desired sunlight, so hard to get by in the competitive density of the jungle. The Wangtianshu attraction offers a walk across the canopy, and some exhibits about jungle flora and fauna. In order to squeeze more yuan out of unwitting tourists, there’s also a boat tour blaring scarce information accompanied by ubiquitous Yunnan ethnic music sounds across the water to where I’m biking.
For me, the reality is quite a busy road with the remnants of the holiday traffic raging about at high speeds. The motorist clubs have obviously been disbanded at the border and a few stray numbered cars make the best of the weekend with an outing in southern Yunnan.
The whole area is imbued with environmental spirit. Billboards promote the preservation of forest for life’s sake. Everywhere are plaques stating this is a national nature reserve and that there must not be any smoking, littering and other destructive behaviour. Elsewhere I read that this is the only such tropical rainforest at 21 degrees northern Latitude. Ironically, all this environmental goodwill is squeezed between some of the worst deforestation in favour of rubber and banana plantations.
Pas the Wangtianshu, traffic dwindles and I get a stretch of dense rainforest all for myself. It lasts until I spot a couple of youngsters enjoying a cigarette on a bench with bicycles leaning on their knees. “Ride together?” they ask as I roll past. “Join me then!” I shout back, not expecting any physical response. To my surprise, they get on their bikes and commence the pursuit.
As I ride with the first two, four others appear out of nowhere. I have a little chat with one of them, Yezi (“little leaf”). They’re all on rented mountainbikes and just on a day trip from Mengla to Yaoqu and back. Just for fun, they say. This is very exceptional in China. Normally, you get either the kind of tourists that go everywhere by car and then rent a rickety bicycle that they are barely able to hold straight, or you get clubs of hard-core mountainbikers in full gear. Rarely do you see a group doing something as modern as going on a bike trip while keeping their non-competitive Yunnan attitude. Even less likely is the fact that they’re all minority kids (a hodgepodge of Dai, Hani, Yi and Yao), which usually means they’re less well-off than their Han compatriots, and less likely to behave in a very modern way.
I instantly like their cheery attitude, their down-to-earth attitude and their engaging yet polite way of receiving me in their midst. They don’t do this very often, they say. Only two of them have done this twice before, and it shows. Even unburdened, they have trouble keeping up with me on the small rolling hills on this stretch. We reach the junction where I have to make the life-changing decision between Yaoqu 瑶区 (“Yao district”) and Mengban 勐伴 (“Fierce companion”). Going over Mengban is an option, but it would lengthen today’s ride considerably. Yaoqu has a shortcut to Yiwu but the quality is possibly very low.
My paper map, on which I have come to rely less and less over the years, shows no connection between Yaoqu and Yiwu, but Google maps shows several smaller roads. The map boasts 军民两用 “for both military and civilian use”, but if the Chinese military really has to rely on this kind of maps, enemies will have an easy time defeating them. Anyway, the boys are headed to Yaoqu and I like the idea of having lunch with them, so I follow, or, rather, lead.
There is no restaurant in Yaoqu. Instead, they’re going to eat at a friend’s home. This friend, as it turns out, is one of the kid’s grandmother, who is visibly not expecting anyone to turn up. We’re welcomed in her little one-bedroom home, eat apples, candy and drink a tea-based soft-drink, while grandmother puts the wok on the fire and starts preparing a massive meal.
While not looking extremely appealing, the food is quite tasty and I get a quick bite in before the kids go swimming in the nearby river, and I continue towards Yiwu. It’s already 3 pm so time is running out. It’s a pity that they’re not joining me, they were well fun!
After all the fun with the colourful cyclists, the dusty cobblestone road through barren rubber plantations in the afternoon heat comes as a shock. Grandmother had told me there’d be a road, newly paved with concrete, but that’s doesn’t seem to be the case (unless I took a wrong turn at Huidu 会都). Instead, I’m served more dust and hills. I swear through most of the climb until the last one delivers me at 1050m onto the asphalted road from Mengban to Yiwu.
Looking at my map, I noticed that I haven’t been riding the trail I originally wanted to ride and ended up ten kilometres west of the other trail’s end point. At least these 10 km turn out to be an umbrageous and leafy downhill. Time is running out, though, and I have to step it up if I don’t want to arrive in total darkness.
I know that Yiwu sits on top of a mountain at over 1300m and, to my consternation, I plunge to 500m before the climb to Yiwu starts. This means 800m up over 14 km and it’s already 6.30pm! Alarm!
The climb kills me, but after 14 cold kilometres, I pull into a pitch-black Yiwu without getting off the saddle even once. I stagger into the first restaurant I see but end up eating only half of my food, that’s how knackered I am. Only 94 km, but I think it’s the cumulative fatigue from two weeks of very little rest and some pretty heavy riding getting under my skin.
The restaurant boss calls up a hotel she knows and reserves my room. Fangfang hotel, 芳芳宾馆, is nothing special and if I had any zip in me left, I would definitely have found better. Now, with the life drained from me, I meekly check in, pay the 60 yuan, stand under the lukewarm shower and fall asleep within seconds from crawling onto the bed.
Lights out.
