21/5/97

I got a fax through from my parents in the hotel business centre; I'm a great uncle now; my cousin Phil and his wife Suzanne have had a little girl called Victoria. As this is my grandma's first great-grandchild, I suspect that she is over the moon too. Later, I came along when Nobuya got his bus ticket to Golmud. It sounded so good I decided to go via bus instead for the princely sum of 70Y. Nobuya was promised a follow on to Lhasa for another 100Y provided he could get a permit from the police in Golmud, though that seemed a little unlikely.

After 4-30pm, we started off. It turned out that most of our fellow passengers were Tibetans, which brought a sense of resignation to me; I had been beginning to get the hang of Mandarin, and now I had to start again with another language! As we had got our tickets first we were in the back of the bus which had two levels equipped with reclining seats with mattresses on them. By the time we were installed it was all a little crowded, especially with all the bottles of Jian Libao (Chinese honey based sports drink- good stuff) I had declared we needed for our ascent to higher altitude. Perhaps I was being a little over cautious, but we'd drunk a lot by the time we'd reached the shores of Quighai lake, mainly because the bus could barely manage 20 km/h and it was one way to pass the time! Around 10 pm we stopped for dinner at a village by the lake, only to see the entire male section of the bus run out into the middle of the road and start urinating. I can just imagine the reaction back home!

It seems that most Chinese truck stops are run by Muslims or Uighers. This lot were very happy so see us, and we were tucking into noodles and extremely hot spiced mutton in no time. The manager insisted on us having the traditional accompaniment to the meal; a clove of fresh garlic which he watched us eat with obvious pleasure while I wondered whether a) I would ever be able to taste anything again, and b) if I would now have to marry a Frenchwoman. The bus itself rolled out of town into a police checkpoint; we covered ourselves with blankets just in case.

22/5/97

About midnight we started a long climb to another pass. There was a full moon, and the sight was stunning; huge mountain ranges wherever you looked all in black and white. This helped keep me awake, as well as the jammed open window that was freezing my left ear. By the barometer on my watch it was a maximum altitude of 3750m, and there was no sign of an adverse reaction; more good news. As daylight broke you could see the surroundings more clearly; high altitude desert. From the concrete culverts at the side of the road that were obviously designed to funnel floodwater through regularly spaced bridges under the road, I surmised that flash floods were not unknown.

Golmud finally hove into view, and it looked rather better than I had been led to expect. In particular, the mountain range south of the road looked very much worth exploring. In between the town and the mountains however, it was as flat as a pancake, which would make hitching rather difficult without being noticed. For readers that are wondering why I don't want to take the bus to Lhasa, it's for a combination of reasons; a) the challenge of hitching the world's highest road illegally, b) seeing stops along the way which those on the bus just race past as they're not allowed to stop, including the world's highest town Wenquan, and c) saving money, as the bus costs about 1600Y. Of course it may not be possible; I met a writer at Independent Travellers World who had been caught three times and sent back to Golmud each time before paying for a bus ticket!

Once we had entered Golmud, the driver became very reluctant to take my Japanese friend any further without police permission, so we trooped off to the police station where a charming lady explained in fearsomely good English that they could not issue travel permits; only CITS could do that if we bought a bus ticket. Ah well, nothing's changed then. The others went back to the station and managed to get tickets for 400Y each. For research purposes I did ask, but the prices ranged from 800Y to infinity. While we were waiting for the bus to leave, we went off to get breakfast.

After momos, I searched for accommodation but the only place seemed to be the Golmud Hotel who were a lot friendlier than I had expected, and I went to the dorm room which was marked by the overwhelming smell of varnish and paint, in fact so much so I felt dizzy! It was occupied by a Japanese couple who were the original odd couple; she was so quiet you'd hardly know she was there, and he was so full of fire that you thought he was about to throw himself out of the window at a moments notice. They were up for an illegal bus ticket. Soon afterwards a German man and Swiss girl appeared, having just arrived from Tibet where they had just completed the parikarma of Mt Kailas. It seemed to have affected them a little too, as they stared into the middle distance a lot! After I had seen off Nobuya and friend at the bus station, I returned to find three more backpackers had arrived on the train; two Israelis and a man from Hong Kong who was as old as my father (55). Gideon, Gal and Yeung were all going to take the bus, though it turned out that Yeung was the best suited of all of us to to dodging police patrols; his mother had smuggled him into HK when he was 10!

Next order of business for me was to meet the notorious Mr Hou of Golmud CITS. Readers of the relevant LP guides will know him as the irascible tyrant who conned a group of eight backpackers out of innumerable free drinks and dances with their female members in order to sell them a minibus ride to Lhasa; which then broke down in the middle of nowhere. I walked in and asked for him, but there was only a sharp eyed lady called Miss Lee. I nearly had hysterics then and there (I'm a great Arthur Ransome fan), but I pressed on. Miss Lee asked me why I wanted to see Mr Hou, who was "away on business"; was it because "he was very famous in guidebook"? Oh no, I replied, I had been told that he was a great organizer, but a terrible singer and even worse dancer. At that I collapsed into a fit of giggles and had to leave. I just hope that I don't have to buy a bus ticket, as I think Miss Lee would have my entrails diced and served with soy sauce.

Dinner was extremely complex, with our preferences being voiced in English, Hebrew and Cantonese. It also turned out that Gideon, being a strict Jew, was on a diet of mifan (boiled white rice) and not a lot else, kosher fare being rather thin on the ground.

Sleeper bus at Golmud	Yeung at the Golmud hotel

23/5/97

Today was the looking around town day, so we all piled out to have a look at the markets, which were actually quite good, with some nice bread available. Yeung went to an army surplus outfit and came out looking like the good chairman Mao, but I just got a water bottle and tried some Chinese ice cream. What can I say, but the wrapper really does taste better- I tried! While having lunch in a deserted cafe, we were surrounded by pretty girls until Gal decided to try out his phrase book. Items like "I am an Engineer" went down well, but he insisted on asking where he could get a massage; and they all disappeared except for the owner, who pointed down the road!

Later I went off with the Japanese couple to the bus station to see if we could get a ticket for them; and carried on walking straight past. There was a PSB officer checking each person onto the bus. I then tried the other bus station where I met three Danish blokes disconsolately loading their gear onto a sleeper. They had spent three days trying to get an unofficial ticket, though the prospect of smuggling blonde and bearded Nordic types through must have been a frightening thought for the locals concerned. I did ask if I could just get a lift to Wenquan, but that was out too. Lets hope the going is better out of town.

Spent 30 minutes running up and down the stairs at the hotel this evening to the amusement of Westerners and locals alike. Golmud being 2800m, I wanted to see what the effect was. The answer seems to be that the altitude does make a difference; the heart rate went up to 180 after the first 5 minutes or so, then dropped down to 150 as the limiting factor became my breathing. I really was gasping at the end, and made a sorry sight as I staggered into the shower. The others were sure that an extra hour in bed in the morning would do the trick- we'll see.

Gal and Gideon training hard for altitude!	Japanese couple; he cut his foot open 24 hours later when crossing a river avoiding a checkpoint

24/5/97

Recced the road out of Golmud this morning. I'm helped by the fact that there's a market at that corner of town anyway, and closer looks at the checkpoint are possible from behind the nearby railway embankment. There seemed to be only a few guards, but they did stop everything that went through, including an Army convoy. To the east of the checkpoint is open, but to the west a wall runs around the compound, so I'll go that way.

Meanwhile, the others make their own preparations. Yeung goes to the local hospital and gets a canvas oxygen bottle, while the Israelis made an astounding discovery. Apparently, the northern Israeli town of Kiryat Shamona (the one that Hezbollah rocket all the time) is twinned with Golmud, so they get a 33% discount on the tickets! Wonders will never cease, especially as I thought that China didn't recognize Israel.

Once I'm back at the dorm and a large dinner is out of the way, I pack all my gear, while indulging in the usual routine of "I don't need that, leave it behind". I've also started on the Diamox for the altitude. I go to bed early; I'll get up about 1 am.
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© Rupert Fiennes 1998