tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7811295756651680282024-03-05T02:00:24.264-08:00Three wheels across the HimalayaNanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-73581959798916900672015-09-24T23:18:00.000-07:002015-09-24T23:19:29.888-07:00New blog<div>
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<a href="http://lesvoyagesdenanette.blogspot.fr/">http://lesvoyagesdenanette.blogspot.fr</a><br />
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Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-3782134521260176382012-08-30T13:22:00.000-07:002014-02-16T05:07:20.982-08:00Karakoram, PakistanWe spend some 5 weeks in the Karakoram area in Northern Pakistan, without the bikes this time. <br />
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More photos on Pierre's website :<br />
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<br />Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-38586588942423684242011-02-03T14:20:00.000-08:002014-02-05T04:34:58.361-08:00Some update<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
I'm back home now, and back to work. Didn't have time to do much update on the blog lately, but I'm working on it. I'll try to put some texts and photos online as soon as I can... If you read French, you can have a look at some of the articles on our adventures in Western Tibet :<br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/09/premiers-jours-sur-la-route-219.html" target="blank">Route 219</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/09/tibet-cest-parti-pour-laventure.html" target="blank">Tibet, c’est parti pour l’aventure</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/09/premier-checkpoint-de-nuit.html" target="blank">Premier checkpoint de nuit</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/09/coup-de-pouce-pour-mazar.html" target="blank">Coup de pouce pour Mazar</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/09/coming-out-sur-la-route-du-tibet.html#more" target="blank">Coming out sur la route du Tibet</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/09/aksai-chin-immense-desert-glacial.html" target="blank">Aksai Chin, immense désert glacial</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/10/enfin-au-tibet.html" target="blank">Enfin au Tibet</a> <br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/10/pangong-tso.html" target="blank">Pangong Tso</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/10/rutog-toujours-en-liberte.html" target="blank">Rutog, toujours en liberté</a><br />
- <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/2010/10/in-trouble.html" target="blank">In trouble</a><br />
- Retour chez les Ouïgours (article à venir)<br />
- Friendship highway (article à venir)<br />
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Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-30079900816377176282011-01-10T05:28:00.000-08:002011-02-28T09:27:16.612-08:00Khumbu Trek <span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6HZ_zWsD1XmRN0WNxd4lxAuVebZYzMe2Jz4lTMdSj8ADM8JVB8fdqRL6QOtqLGC3B86IhRLMn9uVTU-6Ic16C-fEHKuJ024qgDST9kR6XefR_4LjEAZiELFUTDjIivOJbm2irMSM8pE/s1600/_PPB1614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6HZ_zWsD1XmRN0WNxd4lxAuVebZYzMe2Jz4lTMdSj8ADM8JVB8fdqRL6QOtqLGC3B86IhRLMn9uVTU-6Ic16C-fEHKuJ024qgDST9kR6XefR_4LjEAZiELFUTDjIivOJbm2irMSM8pE/s320/_PPB1614.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
<i> The article is coming soon ...</i><br />
<br />
<i> ... until then, you can have a look</i><br />
<i> </i><i> at </i><i>the <a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/album/nepal/album/index.html">photo album</a></i>Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-4639482144869777562010-11-28T23:37:00.000-08:002014-02-07T23:08:48.664-08:00Friendship Highway - News from Kathmandu<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0o1XV29LtownvbYiDOyjNJXMK-NUH2G4UQefLJFOZA_VyBQ92eTOSSl4ZztirMfmKQ05ipIgRt_RYquu9MKiDy2N8Z1e0boY74-0jBTPCQlyWpW8kH-0u0spd8xIqyHJndq20ppOZb-Q/s1600/DSC_0132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0o1XV29LtownvbYiDOyjNJXMK-NUH2G4UQefLJFOZA_VyBQ92eTOSSl4ZztirMfmKQ05ipIgRt_RYquu9MKiDy2N8Z1e0boY74-0jBTPCQlyWpW8kH-0u0spd8xIqyHJndq20ppOZb-Q/s320/DSC_0132.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shigatse</td></tr>
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After being kicked out of Tibet, we had to find a way to escape uygur mutton again and the Chinese authorities. Celine flew straight to Nepal while Pierre and I flew to Xining and took the train to Lhasa before resuming the cycling journey, with a permit this time. Of course, riding with an escort who tells you it'd be better to leave your gear in the car before each pass can be a bit cumbersome, and doesn't feel much of an adventure, but it's the requirement to get this damn permit and ride freely (i.e. "legally", theoritically free from trouble with the authorities) in Tibet. That said, it was definitemy worth it.</div>
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I was happy to be able to see Lhasa again, and all the changes that have taken place since February 2008. In retrospect, it would have been easy to cycle all the way to the border without the permit but now that we'd been arrested once, we didn't want to take a second chance sneaking through, at least not this year. Also it didn't take the guide long to understand we didn't need a 24hr nanny so we were given some degree of freedom, and even rode on our own for 2 days on roads that weren't good enough for the car ! Some news and photos on Pierre's webpage : <a href="http://ppb.perso.sfr.fr/Voyage/09LhassaKathmandu/index.html">Voyage Lhassa - Kathmandu.</a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9uj9KIZxJuAr5832VMVOWGyOBEA0qnd1VVYDnl8b6RoQ_A8nsNBxbOjyy6qWDpll_OQsnhh7qgixlFwUYBY18Y9iu5PnjtfZzEhb_Cdb0wfBfunCogGvgDjvyGCQjeE_srQtkF7uPUO0/s1600/_DSC3471.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9uj9KIZxJuAr5832VMVOWGyOBEA0qnd1VVYDnl8b6RoQ_A8nsNBxbOjyy6qWDpll_OQsnhh7qgixlFwUYBY18Y9iu5PnjtfZzEhb_Cdb0wfBfunCogGvgDjvyGCQjeE_srQtkF7uPUO0/s320/_DSC3471.jpg" height="186" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everest from the base camp</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset on 'Everest</td></tr>
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1100km and a few passes later, we are now in Kathmandu, walking along its packed and turbulent streets. After over 2 months riding in the immense and deserted high plateau of Xinjiang and Tibet, the contrast is brutal. Things have changed since my last visit in 2007. Prices have more than doubled (maybe because this is now the high season?). Souvenir and trekking shops (mostly selling copies of famous western brands) have popped up like mushrooms, overflowing beyond Thamel, and most restaurants now display « free wifi » stickers. One thing seems unchanging however : the street vendors on almost every corner offering trinkets, tiger balm and marijuana ("Best quality good price"). </div>
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We're now swapping our bikes for trekking boots, heading to the Khumbu. I'll try to put some more updates on the Kashgar -Ali road when I find the time.<br />
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Here are some photos of the Friendship Highway : <br />
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More photos on Pierre's blog :</div>
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<a href="http://tichodrome.free.fr/voy2010tibet/09LhassaKathmandu/index.html">http://tichodrome.free.fr/voy2010tibet/09LhassaKathmandu/index.html</a></div>
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Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-72272776157332118322010-10-26T01:37:00.000-07:002011-02-05T03:55:16.098-08:00On the way to the forbidden land...<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1864.JPG" style="float: left; height: 189px; margin: 5pt 10px 0px 0pt; width: 283px;" /><br />
<div align="justify">Some quick news from Xining. Yeah I know, this is indeed not in Tibet (if you haven't bought an atlas yet, it's not too late...). After we spent one month cycling almost freely on the amazing Kashgar – Kathmandu road, the PSB eventually caught up with us shortly after Ali, a stone's throw away from Mount Kailash. Sent back to Kashgar with a police escort. 48 hours by jeep to backtrack what took us a month by bike!</div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div align="justify">Anyway, the adventure was well worth it. Plan for the weeks ahead: find a way to reach Lhasa and continue cycling to Kathmandu from there. Here are a few photos of the ride from Kashgar, no time for a complete report in English now, a more thorough update will come later. You can read a bit more on the blog in French : <a href="http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com/">http://transhimalaya.blogspot.com</a>.</div><br />
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<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1235.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img height="213" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1235.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kudi La, first pass</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6a1winVmmFMSZT29bdZ6jnkHkMlOLEtgnBJkT7DtKAgi7h0RuxDhgXKouz9VH5ZeTK1uJTTT4afiXjtW4eLIvKfC1iEl-c0CeMRFY-UQvwk3uSmFVL3jMwKlnGM1-PCXAOYfJKbXwfc/s1600/_DSC1262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6a1winVmmFMSZT29bdZ6jnkHkMlOLEtgnBJkT7DtKAgi7h0RuxDhgXKouz9VH5ZeTK1uJTTT4afiXjtW4eLIvKfC1iEl-c0CeMRFY-UQvwk3uSmFVL3jMwKlnGM1-PCXAOYfJKbXwfc/s400/_DSC1262.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resting after riding at night through our first checkpoint</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1286.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1286.jpg" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning scenery in Xinjiang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1302.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1302.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still far from Tibet</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1424.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1424.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pierre enjoying the corrugated road on a cold morning </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aksai Chin</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a tiny bit cold in the Aksaï Chin (-25°C in the morning...)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning snow</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset (or was it sunrise ?)</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1717.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1717.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake near Tielong. Sirengou in the background</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset on Sirengou</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Qienshan La (5400m), soon in Tibet at last !</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning scenery upon entering Tibet proper (though culturally, it doesn't feel like Tibet)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lugmo Lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Tibetan flags...</td></tr>
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<div align="center"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1987.JPG"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1987.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><br />
<div align="center"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2012.JPG"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2012.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road after our second checkpoint in Domar</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2129" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2129" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pangong Tso</td></tr>
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<div align="center"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2226.JPG"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2226.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><br />
<div align="center"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2232.JPG"><img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2232.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pass after Ali</td></tr>
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More photos on Pierre's website:<a href="http://ppb.perso.sfr.fr/Voyage/06KashgarAli/index.html">Route Kashgar - Ali</a>.Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-1963368512686762102010-10-21T05:31:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:45:36.111-08:00One week with the PSB<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTzk5cL4JVnnF0nrjoeeIy8QEEnSfSjJrB34WQ7-ElhYAFVTiXVW5GBSSt48fYKuyf4ZFIW2WkPNfyhCiJHbFFBR4bf0r5FaCWqkqI8bLLU6Z6NdT97p8wusnBVY-VEbxRl-NCp79YrQ/s1600/_DSC2384blog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTzk5cL4JVnnF0nrjoeeIy8QEEnSfSjJrB34WQ7-ElhYAFVTiXVW5GBSSt48fYKuyf4ZFIW2WkPNfyhCiJHbFFBR4bf0r5FaCWqkqI8bLLU6Z6NdT97p8wusnBVY-VEbxRl-NCp79YrQ/s320/_DSC2384blog.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> Coming soon ...</i>Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-74039409828781083372010-10-14T04:32:00.000-07:002014-02-07T11:57:31.019-08:00In trouble !<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRR0w1YPkBcU1xmthXVH2_g1y3f5noTaNgcuNBCUty3ZXyjqs4_nSWbj8dlQ6I425SLvuxgNbqk790f_MaZ4sluUBQs95TzTYPIDuhN4dn3MsQmtMFKCN8-LfUaWu1oOVb7y7FB9vrmmo/s1600/_DSC2226.JPG" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRR0w1YPkBcU1xmthXVH2_g1y3f5noTaNgcuNBCUty3ZXyjqs4_nSWbj8dlQ6I425SLvuxgNbqk790f_MaZ4sluUBQs95TzTYPIDuhN4dn3MsQmtMFKCN8-LfUaWu1oOVb7y7FB9vrmmo/s320/_DSC2226.JPG" height="212" ox="true" width="320" /></a>A Chinese cyclist we met in Sumxi told us about a checkpoint just outside Ali. So we camped a few kms before the city and crossed it around 4am. We found the streets bustling despite the early hour (or late, it depends) : staggering drunken passers-by , flickering multicolour shop windows, taxis... Yet surprisingly, we spot no sign of a police car. The checkpoint is actually 2 kms past the center, and guarded by a policeman problably busy watching tv. The rope, which is supposed to serve as a gate, is lying on the ground. Riding on it is a piece of cake. There is not a single dog to bark at us. We pedal in the night, and most of all in the cold, wrapped up in our down jackets, with our feet and hands freezing. We take a breather after one hour. It's a smooth 20km ride up to the pass that we reach shortly after dawn. The light is superb, and the view on the snow-capped summits overlooking the Gar Tsampo valley (the Indus's main tributary) magnificent. Following that river some 100kms would lead us into India, and a bit further away into Pakistan.<br />
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Time for the downhill now ! How good it feels to be riding on asphalt ! We take a short nap in the sun. Our feet slowly thaw. Then kms fly by. At this pace, we can hope to reach Mount Kailash in 3 or 4 days. The dream is about to become a reality and I already imagine myself in Lhasa or Kathmandu.</div>
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Km1120
(60km past Ali) - a jeep coming in the opposite direction suddenly puts on the brakes in front of us. A bloke travelling with a woman and a young man gets out of the car and flags us down. Another tourist who wants a picture ? He takes his badge out. "Ali PSB. Show me your passports and permits". Outch, it feels like there could be trouble ahead. We play the dummies but since he can speak good English, pretending we don't understand a word is a bit challenging this time. He puts our passports in his pocket. "Two come
with me to Ali to buy permits, one stays here with the bicycles". Pierre and I get on the jeep without knowing whether we're really going to be able to buy the permits, while Celine sets up camp by the river, without knowing for how long... One hour later, a horn blares. Two policemen in a truck come and pick her up with the bikes and gear. "You're in trouble" they say. Trouble is ahead indeed. We later learn that the bloke is actually head of the foreigners' office in charge of issuing permits at the Ali PSB. Come across him and you're out of Tibet...</div>
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We reach Ali around 5pm. The PSB offices are closed, we are taken down to a hotel. "You stay here, tomorrow you come to the PSB". Gee, a real room for each of us, with heat, a real bathroom, toilets and a shower (no hot water, there's reason in all things). All paid-for. We have a set appointment for the next day with the police who keeps our passport for now, just so as to avoid us disappearing. Meanwhile, we enjoy the comfort and pleasures of the city, and share a beer, drinking to our uncertain future.</div>
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Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-62092155932271999402010-10-11T04:31:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:56:26.962-08:00Rutog, still free...<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
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First encounter with the Tibetan police today in the town of Rutog. We wait for dusk to enter the town. A police car goes up and down the main (and only) street but doesn't seem to care the least about us. We find a small hotel above a phone and video store, more discreet than the big Central Hotel monitored by the PSB. No running water, buckets in the corridor by way of urinals, and public facilities inaccessible at night for we are locked upstairs when the shop is closed... We dine in a real restaurant - vegetables and eggs. It doesn't seem much but it does feel good.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>After a good night sleep and an invigorating breakfast (bananas, army biscuits and yogurt, a real treat), we set off around 9am in broad daylight. Of course, this is far too late. By the time we finish loading the bikes, there's a large gathering and the police can't ignore us any longer.<br />
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"Ni men qu na li ?" (= where are you going ?)</div>
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Answer: "Bu tong" (= No understand)</div>
In spite of our somewhat limited Chinese, it is clear that they want to know where we're coming from and where we're going, and they would obviously like to see our IDs and permits... We play the dummies wonderfully well, real character study of course. They eventually get a soldier, nice but dim, who speaks a few words of English, but not enough to stop us pretending we don't understand.<br />
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"Where you come from?"</div>
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"France"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Where you come from... road travel? Lhasa? Xinjiang?"</div>
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"Yes yes travel this road. Lhasa no"</div>
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The little game lasts a good 10 minutes. The young soldier tries his best, aware of his limited English: "Where you want to go?". "I go Ali [lthe next big town]. I want see doctor" I eventually answer, coughling violently to show that I am quite ill. The chief policeman looks a bit puzzled and asks the soldier to translate again "In Ali, see the
police for...", miming as well as he can a piece of paper. "Yes yes, in Ali
police registration, good, ok good bye". And off we go. Phew, that was close. Let's get out of here before he changes his mind.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Premiers tours de roue sur le goudron</td></tr>
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Oh, I was gonna forget the 2nd great piece of news of the day: we're done with bad roads, sand, gravel, rocks, corrugated roads (I feel nostalgic already). We now cycle on nice smooth asphalt. It may not mean much to you, but it means a lot to me. Most of all, it means I can now go faster and no longer crawl along like an asthmatic snail ! The tricycle is brilliant, comfortable and all, but it's a tiny bit slow on rough roads.<br />
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According to Chinese cyclists we met a few days ago, the whole road to Lhasa has just been paved by the local Department of Road and Public Works this year. What ? Real tarmac ? Woo-hoo ! Let's try to make the most of it as long as we possibly can...<br />
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Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-38617963382760856592010-10-09T04:30:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:30:56.877-08:00Pangong Tso<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
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C'était
pour moi un des buts du voyage, revoir le Pangong Tso, ce grand lac
d'altitude qui s'étend sur une grosse centaine de kms entre le Tibet et
le Ladakh et que j'avais trouvé si magnifique l'an dernier côté indien.
Se dire que les deux chemins les plus courts pour rallier un bout du lac
à l'autre sont d'un côté via la Jammu Cachemire, les plaines du Penjab,
le Pakistan et l'Aksai Chin (soit 3500km), de l'autre côté le Népal,
les plaines du Gange et l'Himachal Pradesh (pas loin de 3000km), tout ca
parce que deux géants jouent les gamins qui ne veulent pas faire la
paix, me semble ahurissant !<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3LIXJA9mMuUP2Ctxi-Ead3StrutRfL5UjQl00VIgPP2B8Coo0EBng_Vz-R4xKAeIrGZhrNCMn-tlQIqx6dUg_cBiSjp5OMIvsUgBM3x1CLRW-zWAyOP3clpCB9TEVfcN_v_tApNbupg/s1600/_DSC2055b.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3LIXJA9mMuUP2Ctxi-Ead3StrutRfL5UjQl00VIgPP2B8Coo0EBng_Vz-R4xKAeIrGZhrNCMn-tlQIqx6dUg_cBiSjp5OMIvsUgBM3x1CLRW-zWAyOP3clpCB9TEVfcN_v_tApNbupg/s320/_DSC2055b.jpg" height="195" ox="true" width="300" /></a>A
vélo, il suffirait de qqs jours pour aller jusqu'à Leh si on avait le
droit de franchir cette fichue frontière. Là, c'est plusieurs mois qui
sont nécessaires par la route, sans compter les difficultés et aléas
administratifs.</div>
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<div style="border: medium none; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hw8VnjR24yRQr0CLYC1iexH-d7qYghTdrNsw5RJJ-yWTEoBBSG0_JT3GCOPO-hhPnFc8txPDN33c63OKFLxvWmVLwsHD6ji2132Evo7cM45epb-XZsiCxWNCOu2e7AuXqt4r4TbzkyI/s1600/_DSC2065.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hw8VnjR24yRQr0CLYC1iexH-d7qYghTdrNsw5RJJ-yWTEoBBSG0_JT3GCOPO-hhPnFc8txPDN33c63OKFLxvWmVLwsHD6ji2132Evo7cM45epb-XZsiCxWNCOu2e7AuXqt4r4TbzkyI/s320/_DSC2065.jpg" height="185" ox="true" width="300" /></a>C'est
sous un ciel quelque peu nuageux et par vent fort que nous parvenons au
bord du lac. Il est immense, encadré de montagnes qui semblent loin. Je
ne retrouve pas les couleurs magiques du Ladakh, On dirait plutôt une
grande mer intérieure agitée, un peu comme le Léman par mauvais temps...
Bon, n'allez pas dire aux Chinois que le lac est plus beau côté indien,
ils pourraient se vexer et dieu sait qu'ils sont susceptibles.</div>
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<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2129" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2129" height="322" width="600" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqa1s_b9Dk813cfZsBIeyF3mUAYXmZC20oBAdvnbTdRiS5wtsLhjg2dzOwJ-VvyPJi3QkId8ZLF-HZQv7AS78KgfYJGoozm3AKFq_NIcFQ6VV1su-UzOmr0ct5E5WRDRttnldh2uyEqs/s1600/_DSC2100.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqa1s_b9Dk813cfZsBIeyF3mUAYXmZC20oBAdvnbTdRiS5wtsLhjg2dzOwJ-VvyPJi3QkId8ZLF-HZQv7AS78KgfYJGoozm3AKFq_NIcFQ6VV1su-UzOmr0ct5E5WRDRttnldh2uyEqs/s640/_DSC2100.jpg" height="348" ox="true" width="600" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr0TCTLMqm2Mqheo-TCtXe5gtP-hRXEHpF0kX6liTcs3Pe5Mi60htZMJqV9s_mpwkjtVtKBsy-FnwA8wI7chSKtATvbynq5L6c3SgNsHsNzj6OYDy9IX6MD8Yu9ZS9LLv2jnxFgXlSvM/s1600/_PPB0533.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr0TCTLMqm2Mqheo-TCtXe5gtP-hRXEHpF0kX6liTcs3Pe5Mi60htZMJqV9s_mpwkjtVtKBsy-FnwA8wI7chSKtATvbynq5L6c3SgNsHsNzj6OYDy9IX6MD8Yu9ZS9LLv2jnxFgXlSvM/s320/_PPB0533.jpg" height="194" ox="true" width="320" /></a>Le
topo qui nous sert de guide indiquait « village de pécheurs- restaurant
de poisson – grand hôtel neuf ». Nous nous réjouissions à l'idée d'une
journée de repos dans un endroit relaxant, et d'une bonne bouffe (là je
vous l'accorde, c'était même au-delà de la naïveté), Nous devinons au
loin un large bâtiment clair venant rayer le paysage, sans doute
l'hôtel. Ma foi c'est moche mais si ça permet de nous poser un peu, on
fera avec. Pas vraiment de village à l'horizon. Nous nous approchons. Un
vague bateau recouvert d'une grande bâche est échoué au bord de l'eau.
Tout semble à l'abandon. Un vaste portail empêche d'accéder à la cour de
l'hôtel, impossible même d'aller se mettre à l'abri pour dormir. On
roule encore une bonne demi-heure à la recherche d'un hypothétique
village avant de finalement poser la tente de nuit sur un bout de terre
au bord du lac.</div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KiRqxpsGjkUV820UNOmG6k2q6VYI0yOgCb5MeLp47GbLr19uB5_cdZHTsD57Jc3_pX6hcrUDbFxBQHBELP7KAL7Q4kPDpmBldtSMs7kyzdjVGcnqq3HFVK_0ZFACjDlR0VYCoSx_0j8/s1600/_PPB0535.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KiRqxpsGjkUV820UNOmG6k2q6VYI0yOgCb5MeLp47GbLr19uB5_cdZHTsD57Jc3_pX6hcrUDbFxBQHBELP7KAL7Q4kPDpmBldtSMs7kyzdjVGcnqq3HFVK_0ZFACjDlR0VYCoSx_0j8/s400/_PPB0535.jpg" height="261" ox="true" width="400" /></a></div>
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Le
lendemain matin au réveil, les montagnes alentours sont couvertes de
neige. Nous reprenons la route. Les seules habitations croisées sont des
cabanes de bergers et qqs tentes de nomades d'où émergent immuablement
d'énormes mastifs tibétains qui jouent encore à leur jeu préféré : la
course au cycliste. Pas de trace de village ni de pêcheur, et encore
moins de festin de poisson. Pour la journée de repos et le repas
somptueux, il va falloir attendre encore un peu…</div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-54774549859724030422010-10-04T04:28:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:29:12.911-08:00In Tibet at last !<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1819b.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1819b.JPG" height="161" width="250" /></a>Nous
décollons de Tielong au petit matin. La lumière sur le Sirengou et le
lac est sublime, mais tout est gele autour. Je me sens flagadate. Nez
bouché, mal de gorge, mauvaise toux, bref, une belle combinaison d'un
méchant rhume et d'une vilaine réaction à l'altitude. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1859.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1859.JPG" height="206" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
L'arrivée
au Satsum La (col à 5360m) me fait vite oublier tout ça. La vue
dégagée sur une large vallée entourée de sommets enneigés est
absolument magnifique.</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
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<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1872.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1872.JPG" height="375" width="600" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1902.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1902.JPG" height="184" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nous
passons un autre col avant d'arriver pour le coucher de soleil au lac
Lugmo. Bivouac à 5000m sur un large replat surplombant le lac. Vue
superbe mais nuit glaciale.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1908.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1908.JPG" height="261" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1925.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1925.JPG" height="373" width="600" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1967.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1967.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le GPS annonce pile 5400m,<br />
un record pour moi à vélo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Deux jours plus
tard, nous atteignons le Qishan La, le plus haut col du parcours
(5400m). Il marque le début de la descente vers les grandes plaines et
le retour à des terres plus hospitalières. Les drapeaux de prière nous
annoncent que nous sommes bien au Tibet. C'est d'ailleurs un peu le
seul indice car la présence tibétaine dans cette région inhabitée est
plutôt ténue. Il faut attendre d'être redescendus à des altitudes
raisonnables pour commencer à trouver des habitations. Il s'agit
surtout de fermes isolées et tentes de nomades (avec leur lot de chiens
tous plus énormes les uns que les autres, et qui ne manquent pas une
occasion de jouer à la course au cycliste). </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1987.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1987.jpg" height="307" width="600" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Le
premier gros village tibétain est Domar, mais nous le verrons de nuit
car il y a un checkpoint à l'entrée. Une fois de plus, réveil à 2h30 du
matin et pliage de la tente dans le froid. On aperçoit au loin une
lumière clignotante rouge et bleue, ce doit être là. Pas de lune pour
éclairer la route cette fois-ci, et le village semble bien sombre. On
éteint les frontales histoire de ne pas se faire repérer. Le checkpoint a
l'air gardé, il y a de la lumière dans la guitoune de la police, et la
porte est ouverte. Une corde tendue en travers de la route tient lieu de
barrière. On passe sur le côté, personne ne semble nous remarquer. On
rallume les frontales. Des chiens aboient à droite et à gauche lâchement
cachés dans la pénombre. Armée de mes cailloux et de mon bâton, je me
tiens prête. Je m'attends à en voir débouler sur nous à tout instant, un
peu stressant. Finalement, on s'éloigne du village, mollets intacts,
ouf.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nous
continuons à pédaler dans la nuit, et surtout dans le froid. Moins 15
aux 1ères lueurs du soleil. Je descends et pousse le tricycle par moment
pour me réchauffer. Les pieds sont à peine dégelés quand on atteint le
col qui suit immanquablement chaque checkpoint, la descente est
glaciale. Heureusement que la piste est pourrie, ça permet d'aller moins
vite et d'avoir donc un peu moins froid. On gagne qqs degrés au fur et à
mesure qu'on perd de l'altitude et que le soleil monte dans le ciel.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2005b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2005b.jpg" height="308" width="600" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lever de soleil sur la montagne après le checkpoint de Domar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2014.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC2014.JPG" height="385" width="600" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descente après Domar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Autres photos plus tard</i></div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-3947220996815634562010-09-30T04:26:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:27:04.938-08:00Aksai Chin<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDML5tkbCBjjyHocjhEQYwgjXLdGyO1HG_HfbmoupPzUBCV3JrKWLzdNDJ7s6-e_ZT35YJgEueI9coc0AIRWkiWdpYmSpg9GssrbpEwBfRjjvfozXOK9aLIFUIMs4c1vT86pU0d9_L2k/s1600/_DSC1513.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDML5tkbCBjjyHocjhEQYwgjXLdGyO1HG_HfbmoupPzUBCV3JrKWLzdNDJ7s6-e_ZT35YJgEueI9coc0AIRWkiWdpYmSpg9GssrbpEwBfRjjvfozXOK9aLIFUIMs4c1vT86pU0d9_L2k/s320/_DSC1513.jpg" height="203" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Premières vues sur l'Aksai Chin depuis le Kithai Pass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
D’un coup, le GPS change de fuseau horaire et passe à
l’heure indienne. On dirait que les satellites militaires américains
n’ont pas tout à fait entériné l’annexion de la région par la Chine. Je
me demande si les Chinois sont au courant. Ça pourrait peut-être causer
un incident diplomatique majeur !</div>
<br />
Le topo indiquait "immense désert glacial"... <br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Glacial
? Moins 25°C au petit matin, c’est effectivement un brin frisquet. Tout
est gelé. La tente et le duvet sont recouverts d'une épaisse couche de
givre. Le platypus 4 litres et une bouteille d'eau restés dehors sont
transformés en blocs de glace. Difficile de se motiver pour bouger. Vers
7h du matin, les premiers rayons de soleil apportent un peu de
réconfort. On décolle vers 8h30, il fait encore à peine -15°. Mon câble
de frein arrière est bloqué, gelé. Impossible non plus de passer les
vitesses à l'avant. Au meilleur de la journée, il fait un bon +5° mais
rapidement le vent se lève à nouveau et le ciel se couvre. C'est
quasiment la même histoire tous les jours.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wjwDdCg2pST4RHhf128VR-JlLG8chRWyAAoZ8LojrjQ1tlMLMSz0hsmE1MsU5bgdmvLyoXc_lxekRjtfu19lcltdA4QUrysMwC_d0vcpOXOHYyP85mdh1Nbie9doYFKHyrentnjxEmg/s1600/_DSC1652.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wjwDdCg2pST4RHhf128VR-JlLG8chRWyAAoZ8LojrjQ1tlMLMSz0hsmE1MsU5bgdmvLyoXc_lxekRjtfu19lcltdA4QUrysMwC_d0vcpOXOHYyP85mdh1Nbie9doYFKHyrentnjxEmg/s640/_DSC1652.JPG" height="371" width="600" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCrtEslvWpI9cpWc7RCCbi8YXkzKqUaz-lyoMBA9JQWgoU3wHX2IEIuI4ZplxteKp8xXQ5qyOq0j0v3Jf27U-dugipptM6XMVtwmVuhTNmxXgsmyVZYCjKIfMJUj57-Q20uJ9fYbD7wE/s1600/_DSC1656.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCrtEslvWpI9cpWc7RCCbi8YXkzKqUaz-lyoMBA9JQWgoU3wHX2IEIuI4ZplxteKp8xXQ5qyOq0j0v3Jf27U-dugipptM6XMVtwmVuhTNmxXgsmyVZYCjKIfMJUj57-Q20uJ9fYbD7wE/s320/_DSC1656.JPG" height="208" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rivière gelée...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Désert ? Ça veut
dire pas d’eau, non ? J’aurais sans doute dû mieux suivre à l’école…
Borne kilométrique 540, le topo indiquait un point d'eau, rien à
l'horizon à part une vague flaque de boue. Il nous reste moins d'1 litre
chacun, oups... Km 579, dernier point d'eau avant 60km. Il s'agit en
fait d'une espèce de marre plus ou moins gelée en aval d'un camp
militaire d’où se dégage une forte odeur de souffre. Pas bien le choix,
il va falloir boire ça pendant 24hr... Même filtrée, c'est pas terrible !
Point d'eau suivant au km 639 : la rivière est gelée. Il y a qqs trous
d'eau stagnante sous une belle couche de glace... "Désert glacial" était
effectivement un bon résumé !</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EFTNYqpJGil6cTUZPNm6J_qSMWdGQhYjMLTvkdmwdWVDvAtI5eefI_vmq3CueL608kmx7KdS0TcaJ9Cdt3hYEs1hhn_unUY9Vu4bkN8egTLUEv4jLoUkBRaa7bCx8KNYNqSXExFq03s/s1600/_DSC1526.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EFTNYqpJGil6cTUZPNm6J_qSMWdGQhYjMLTvkdmwdWVDvAtI5eefI_vmq3CueL608kmx7KdS0TcaJ9Cdt3hYEs1hhn_unUY9Vu4bkN8egTLUEv4jLoUkBRaa7bCx8KNYNqSXExFq03s/s200/_DSC1526.JPG" height="126" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tole ondulée ou caillasse,<br />
choisis ton camp !</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Les paysages sont grandioses. Nous avons d'autant
plus de temps d'en profiter que nous avançons lentement sur la piste
pourrie. Je me demande ce que je déteste le plus entre la tôle ondulée,
le sable et la caillasse !?!</div>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pK3Z1n9Ldua7dfZPhnqwxyqG-C2LSI7Tyei7noKEC-Bcf8n6yOamDBpGVrcNi1lvyP48ZmGqLSiaTlPE5wClQuR5tOGCNxOKxW_wbB4lyB0WpaQ2xCvcv3IaSkBNeKUyJVGlefNjSh0/s1600/_DSC1659.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pK3Z1n9Ldua7dfZPhnqwxyqG-C2LSI7Tyei7noKEC-Bcf8n6yOamDBpGVrcNi1lvyP48ZmGqLSiaTlPE5wClQuR5tOGCNxOKxW_wbB4lyB0WpaQ2xCvcv3IaSkBNeKUyJVGlefNjSh0/s320/_DSC1659.JPG" height="206" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPfHIbmyrhWLnnT8KlTI5BDc7UmplG_8lCADr7h8du7Fwl3xFwKt4Th-G8DdSkbebmAktGTYGwXemkSjmDPt962GKHv9fbzvsQgKiPCNpFVXvHd1vhbfLFfeuFXscFMeaNqwlup2ZorU/s1600/_DSC1630.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPfHIbmyrhWLnnT8KlTI5BDc7UmplG_8lCADr7h8du7Fwl3xFwKt4Th-G8DdSkbebmAktGTYGwXemkSjmDPt962GKHv9fbzvsQgKiPCNpFVXvHd1vhbfLFfeuFXscFMeaNqwlup2ZorU/s640/_DSC1630.JPG" height="325" width="600" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A
un moment, quatre voitures arrivent en face, tous gyrophares allumeés.
Céline est 200 mètres en avant. La 1ère voiture la croise sans
s’arrêter. Quand elle arrive à notre niveau, on peut lire nettement les
deux caractères "公安" en gros sur les portières et "police" sur le capot.
Pierre et moi nous regardons perplexes. Il s'agit bien de la PSB. La
fin de la recréation va-t-elle sonner ? La voiture passe devant nous
sans broncher. Nous observons au loin les véhicules suivants avec un
brin d'inquiétude, d'autant qu'ils font mine de ralentir. Le 4èrme
freine au niveau de Céline, deux types sortent. Mince. Nous pédalons
pour nous rapprocher. Les secondes semblent longues. Qu'est-ce que
Céline va leur avoir raconté ? Va-t-on s'en sortir avec une amende à
payer ? Va-t-on devoir faire demi-tour ? Vont-ils prendre nos passeports
? Bon cela dit, que peut faire une voiture seule (surtout qu'elle fait
partie d'un convoi qui a pris de l'avance) face à trois cyclistes ?
S'ils veulent nous expulser, il leur faudra un plus gros véhicule. Alors
que toutes sortes de réflexions me traversent l'esprit, les deux types
remontent dans l'auto et claquent la porte avant de redémarrer. Céline
tient victorieusement un gros sac de provisions à la main. J'ai stressé
pour rien. J'avais totalement oublié ces derniers jours que nous étions
tout de même à la merci d'une arrestation qui viendrait stopper notre
voyage. Cet épisode vient me le rappeler.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
En
tout état de cause, que ce soit l'armée ou la police, tout le monde
sait que trois cyclos occidentaux se baladent sur les pistes du Tibet.
S'ils ne veulent pas que nous nous promenions par là, ils ne devraient
pas avoir de mal à nous arrêter, nous sommes sur la route du matin au
soir et pas bien loin la nuit. S'ils ne font rien, c'est a priori qu'ils
s'en contrefichent ou ont d'autres chats à fouetter.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnUm5NbUzVkJHTbFqCl82KbXjS0rpxMie6GDMJmqZu4hKiQS8eqL716OD9a8Q8woxRgpyoilpWi8eGfzv-Tw0XLiBtRbaTxsadQq446JNzdVRKzs3HAuB3bGs4ra6sMtPSGYqZOE-OWU/s1600/_DSC1807.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnUm5NbUzVkJHTbFqCl82KbXjS0rpxMie6GDMJmqZu4hKiQS8eqL716OD9a8Q8woxRgpyoilpWi8eGfzv-Tw0XLiBtRbaTxsadQq446JNzdVRKzs3HAuB3bGs4ra6sMtPSGYqZOE-OWU/s320/_DSC1807.jpg" height="183" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ça
fait bientôt 3 semaines que nous avons quitté l'agitation et la chaleur
de Kashgar. Nous arrivons à Tielong, mini village au pied de la
magnifique montagne du Sirengou, et dernier relai-routier avant d'entrer
officiellement au Tibet. Il ressemble à tous les autres
relais-routiers, en plus petit, simple alignement de baraques décrépites
arborant chacune un conduit de cheminée fumant, avec quelques camions
parfois arrêtés devant.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A l'intérieur, un poêle à bois nous apporte une chaleur réconfortante.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Les
menus ne sont pas très variés : riz ou pâtes, mais on a progressé et on
arrive maintenant à obtenir de la nourriture effectivement mangeable
(c'est à dire pas du piment pur), et on parvient même parfois à dégoter
une bière, luxe suprême. La télé fonctionne sur générateur de 18h à 22h.
Soap chinois, karaoke et émission de télé-réalité, c'est guère
différent de chez nous. C'est grâce à ce même générateur que nous
pouvons charger nos batteries d'appareil photo et d'ordi. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieU_vekt51KXBCYdLED9-IQD1tFn0iGrdw1EItgWp5tpIHiXD746L9D4n-wuRnZ6LC7judIbdhOgrV8Lwp0EGE8mmITxm5H2jqV6cRxFuhTdL98iVQTJowpA26oyaWRos_QGwhSU-XLj4/s1600/_PPB0010.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieU_vekt51KXBCYdLED9-IQD1tFn0iGrdw1EItgWp5tpIHiXD746L9D4n-wuRnZ6LC7judIbdhOgrV8Lwp0EGE8mmITxm5H2jqV6cRxFuhTdL98iVQTJowpA26oyaWRos_QGwhSU-XLj4/s320/_PPB0010.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
La
douche est sommaire : une bassine d'eau pour le haut du corps (c'est à
dire les mains et le visage), une autre bassine pour les pieds. Mais au
moins, ça permet de se laver (pfff, comme si on en avait besoin).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4n81x8-V5vGNTbpMQD3pTuYUhjtauj2G-U_-FPvmUyO7XDn7hEFIppp2ekxYExh-lXpGJ9kRdSHOr9r1RmJRcrELwjT6R1a9JI8jacS32RV6mrk6k4rAg5xe5XFqSb4z3VyOHAf5dNdI/s1600/_DSC1772.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4n81x8-V5vGNTbpMQD3pTuYUhjtauj2G-U_-FPvmUyO7XDn7hEFIppp2ekxYExh-lXpGJ9kRdSHOr9r1RmJRcrELwjT6R1a9JI8jacS32RV6mrk6k4rAg5xe5XFqSb4z3VyOHAf5dNdI/s640/_DSC1772.JPG" height="395" width="600" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRH32DaVIdIS0VBqA2VWKjN4ZzrkQdJsNOvukUYRRM62ZaWRylgHXkxP-C-wFzTUbdtu0SC3TBsSZVraOJg63tSdyYbmgSuJmKjB0C5NUZym_146aYzrQzYwsWCrvOEbt8jj3_mL7n4-E/s1600/_DSC1757.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRH32DaVIdIS0VBqA2VWKjN4ZzrkQdJsNOvukUYRRM62ZaWRylgHXkxP-C-wFzTUbdtu0SC3TBsSZVraOJg63tSdyYbmgSuJmKjB0C5NUZym_146aYzrQzYwsWCrvOEbt8jj3_mL7n4-E/s640/_DSC1757.JPG" height="369" width="600" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Face à Tielong : lac au pied du massif du Sirengou</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1740.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/TB/_DSC1740.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Décharge publique...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Les abords de ces
relais-routiers sont absolument immondes, jonchés de tas de détritus en
tout genre sur lesquels se battent qqs corbeaux. Ajoutez à ça les
toilettes "in the open" où chacun fait où bon lui semble, et quelques
carcasses en décomposition d'animaux tombés d'un camion, vous avez le
tableau complet.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
On
se demande vraiment comment des gens peuvent vivre ici toute l'année à
5150m d'altitude. Absolument rien ne pousse exceptés des cailloux. Le
ravitaillement (nourriture, essence pour le groupe électrogène, charbon
pour le chauffage) dépend entièrement des camions qui font la route
entre Kashgar et Ali, et il n'y a pas beaucoup d'animation en dehors des
allers et venues des convois militaires et de la visite de très rares
cyclo-touristes comme nous.</div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-81026362222168138232010-09-27T04:24:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:25:07.925-08:00"Coming out" on the road to Tibet<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Kkn831HlCxVulFmXSoUQ4cLJ3D5LmWEpODzjnGqJnVIlG1kijJhyphenhyphenKi65TRgb4Bs2QTkayiXoKlzuTaZHwOyZPiOQfriPKazpwge758x8bQzL1Uq7SLlqCTzujIdm_jWtwlnqg7EUO3I/s1600/_DSC1286.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Kkn831HlCxVulFmXSoUQ4cLJ3D5LmWEpODzjnGqJnVIlG1kijJhyphenhyphenKi65TRgb4Bs2QTkayiXoKlzuTaZHwOyZPiOQfriPKazpwge758x8bQzL1Uq7SLlqCTzujIdm_jWtwlnqg7EUO3I/s320/_DSC1286.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Route" après Mazar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Une semaine déjà que nous pédalons de jour et
toujours pas d’arrestation à raconter. Au début, au départ de Mazar,
chaque voiture ou camion militaire croisé suscite une petite montée
d’adrénaline, puis peu à peu, on s‘habitue. J’ai tout de même la nette
impression que l’armée a autre chose à faire qu’à s’occuper de trois
cyclo-touristes en balade, et que la police chargée de la sécurité
intérieure (PSB) ne s’éloigne pas trop de ses bases en ville. Le
prochain checkpoint est à plus de 500km. En fait, en évitant de
traverser ces qqs villes de jour ou de s’y arrêter pour la nuit, nous
devrions être tranquilles (c’est du moins ce que j’espère).<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRxB8dSqPnvCmIZBC_QgxIX5OV2dZ33y_I_2Ke4jgWvFnb_4HRzUo6MNU5kTD_xVkxfXqZ6k-gBgYl4coltg58WBpTfNTyueAZ7ROW2eA4hQ7LPyaGRPWKT5AE8MQmZYO4o-M1IVFAFU/s1600/_DSC1424b.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRxB8dSqPnvCmIZBC_QgxIX5OV2dZ33y_I_2Ke4jgWvFnb_4HRzUo6MNU5kTD_xVkxfXqZ6k-gBgYl4coltg58WBpTfNTyueAZ7ROW2eA4hQ7LPyaGRPWKT5AE8MQmZYO4o-M1IVFAFU/s320/_DSC1424b.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ambiance matinale glaciale</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Les journées sont
rythmées par la météo : on gèle le matin jusqu’à 10h, il fait bon entre
10 et 11, on crève de chaud au soleil entre 11 et 13. Le vent se lève et
les nuages s'amoncèlent pendant la pause déjeuner puis on se caille à
nouveau jusqu'au soir...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazMKOCWJ3sRbG9feqQbgAQjbt9WrLLOkDe6aCtrrJqFlvTVcWWFFm4X80SFjFcSDgEiYBmNzFA3XHOOog0mtABq9Oeo2GGDARIpK3CFFmNoqPnFPFhDvM3D277EX6bd-7Ftg1ecQgjxs/s1600/_DSC2176.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazMKOCWJ3sRbG9feqQbgAQjbt9WrLLOkDe6aCtrrJqFlvTVcWWFFm4X80SFjFcSDgEiYBmNzFA3XHOOog0mtABq9Oeo2GGDARIpK3CFFmNoqPnFPFhDvM3D277EX6bd-7Ftg1ecQgjxs/s320/_DSC2176.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabanes de bergers inoccupées à cette saison, parfaites pour s'abriter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Nous alternons nuits sous tente et nuits entre 4
murs, l'un n'excluant pas l'autre. Disons que quand je dis 4 murs, ça
n'implique pas forcément qu'il y a une porte et des carreaux aux
fenêtres pour nous abriter des courants d'air, mais il y a normalement
un toit, c'est déjà ça. Ça va du sol en terre battue de la cabane
abandonnée au lit dans un dortoir de relais-routier où une simple
planche de bois tient lieu de literie, en passant par une pièce en béton
brut dans une maison de cantonniers. Une constante cependant : la
poussière ! Mais vu le vent et le froid dehors, on préfère s'en
contenter.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCX1t-HZUUNbU_oJz1aQlMR9zZdukvlGjuEPykB4mx8T-3V28pHJsO0jXCyNCwvO9_-BITGFBpekrHZ654jWJyb9fYLYitH2gM2r4Mqc5OnA7hDIPQLN_VfqLc5Mi3w8KTmiZLqLUH_I/s1600/_PPB0399.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCX1t-HZUUNbU_oJz1aQlMR9zZdukvlGjuEPykB4mx8T-3V28pHJsO0jXCyNCwvO9_-BITGFBpekrHZ654jWJyb9fYLYitH2gM2r4Mqc5OnA7hDIPQLN_VfqLc5Mi3w8KTmiZLqLUH_I/s400/_PPB0399.JPG" height="267" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabane de bergers vue de l'intérieur</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sxMktk804Ki1PZ4GHQUZ1PeB9XCqEC90KSzqwb3tIZC4XrPjlw6lh10kLP6_LDFZnH8NUMfo3_M8psZOT5yUyYi7fdWdNqCDa_p01Q9b5kJwyxMu7lNcNiRkjuLZnkv8rUFe5MsKECg/s1600/_PPB0589.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sxMktk804Ki1PZ4GHQUZ1PeB9XCqEC90KSzqwb3tIZC4XrPjlw6lh10kLP6_LDFZnH8NUMfo3_M8psZOT5yUyYi7fdWdNqCDa_p01Q9b5kJwyxMu7lNcNiRkjuLZnkv8rUFe5MsKECg/s400/_PPB0589.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Une autre cabane de bergers tout confort ( voyez l'installation de l'eau courante au mur).<br />
Garage devant la maison et café internet (sans connexion internet...).<br />
Céline préfère cependant le confort de sa tente à celui plus basique du sol en terre battue...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVI9II38iehEo_o-WQvhCv3TJeXO9mSg4fpPmJ-b3Z7AouWUILGusPLhcxN7Mjv8UjNBIw8OCnpskofhWmc6O9LTFAeqctWOMGMRrjXuDS-MeLlcIkEATKanNGhvRLXzWwUG5mZcCvMc/s1600/_PPB0028.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVI9II38iehEo_o-WQvhCv3TJeXO9mSg4fpPmJ-b3Z7AouWUILGusPLhcxN7Mjv8UjNBIw8OCnpskofhWmc6O9LTFAeqctWOMGMRrjXuDS-MeLlcIkEATKanNGhvRLXzWwUG5mZcCvMc/s400/_PPB0028.jpg" height="268" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maison de cantonniers abandonnée qui sert d'abri aux cyclistes de passage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHApwf1r5siz4Xt_hvha5WTfSl08ClIm3fHRfEaFs1_-nTvOo830JEWOiggszZ4sBBGDKvHJKqHk0IEktWNSvYiwR8_SF0KibRNft5YF8JMoGR-r8B3761xyVWKx3jAu3bWdbLtJZHeo/s1600/_DSC1486.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHApwf1r5siz4Xt_hvha5WTfSl08ClIm3fHRfEaFs1_-nTvOo830JEWOiggszZ4sBBGDKvHJKqHk0IEktWNSvYiwR8_SF0KibRNft5YF8JMoGR-r8B3761xyVWKx3jAu3bWdbLtJZHeo/s400/_DSC1486.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ambiance "squat" dans la maison de cantonniers ci-dessus,<br />
les cyclos de passage ont laissé qqs tags, bande de vandales !</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBT-3i0AsA4w2gIpiunEssg5C1RqyazkoXhtKhgzMz0I5gT6uzqnoeKtAkGfR-879fsqkWnRJydgNMWCHT5vqFqKLU0r4T8-5LJwgmb-i-zaheWIUs4XRLWkOQiKbv8wOz1nmhoeHqDQI/s1600/_DSC1488.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBT-3i0AsA4w2gIpiunEssg5C1RqyazkoXhtKhgzMz0I5gT6uzqnoeKtAkGfR-879fsqkWnRJydgNMWCHT5vqFqKLU0r4T8-5LJwgmb-i-zaheWIUs4XRLWkOQiKbv8wOz1nmhoeHqDQI/s400/_DSC1488.jpg" height="301" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taggeurs masqués pris en flagrant délit ! Vandales !</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyIYwOok9P4gaAMCR4QpnCMODQ1mkZilLEQkREonAISRB97J9YGjtKgihN2zhvcKBwy9vE3qvYhJdLEqy26ImW4HWTh7Fn1iEqqeFTXYXOFvnE4gfiFts31Xvzj_OxaWPC9xkOliiCq8/s1600/_PPB9892.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyIYwOok9P4gaAMCR4QpnCMODQ1mkZilLEQkREonAISRB97J9YGjtKgihN2zhvcKBwy9vE3qvYhJdLEqy26ImW4HWTh7Fn1iEqqeFTXYXOFvnE4gfiFts31Xvzj_OxaWPC9xkOliiCq8/s320/_PPB9892.jpg" height="210" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Festin dans un relai routier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Les pauses chez les
routiers ou les cantonniers sont autant d'occasions de variations
gastronomiques venant agrémenter nos noodles soups quotidiennes. Un
cuistot ouïghour et nous avons droit à une soupe de mouton bien
appréciable (qui l'eût cru, on apprécie ce qui se fait rare...), un
cuistot chinois et c'est riz au piment. Un midi, nous sommes invités à
partager une soupe dans une maison de cantonniers. Des travailleurs de
passage arrivant de Kashgar nous offrent gâteaux, poires et pommes, un
vrai festin !<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOzoKIk4AEKJw09Nh9hy14OpLlWpBlsh3FH3NMn-mc2qyiC0yc1GvEp0OaRnurPbw2-VMKfRFxv1hOjKPu8-K_fw0IEWTbI-DpsZ0Wl8fa2dF-f9UoSCcCj-Shr0RX-2hICyIDUi4L6c/s1600/_PPB0162.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOzoKIk4AEKJw09Nh9hy14OpLlWpBlsh3FH3NMn-mc2qyiC0yc1GvEp0OaRnurPbw2-VMKfRFxv1hOjKPu8-K_fw0IEWTbI-DpsZ0Wl8fa2dF-f9UoSCcCj-Shr0RX-2hICyIDUi4L6c/s200/_PPB0162.jpg" height="135" width="200" /></a></div>
Un
peu plus loin, des 4x4 de touristes s’arrêtent pour nous photographier
et nous régalent de bricoles à grignoter. Certains chinois ne manquent
pas de savoir-vivre, peut-être pour tenter de se rattraper de leurs
compatriotes...<br />
<br /></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBbR3abshjUZuZ0f98xmXilDc_xmJSMlA0qFmPUv3CcJe4oRcdQHD2aixL2jYdHe9_mRiXekX7fZl6otIoj3nkUhQ6FB54dgGgcChyphenhyphenxsMgj2ryyOHWfRmdPZj21thOySglZ8MvnfkPxw/s1600/Armybiscuit.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBbR3abshjUZuZ0f98xmXilDc_xmJSMlA0qFmPUv3CcJe4oRcdQHD2aixL2jYdHe9_mRiXekX7fZl6otIoj3nkUhQ6FB54dgGgcChyphenhyphenxsMgj2ryyOHWfRmdPZj21thOySglZ8MvnfkPxw/s200/Armybiscuit.jpg" height="135" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biscuit de l'armée, miam !</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nous arrivons dans
le village de Xiadulla en fin de journée à la tombée de la nuit pour
éviter de nous faire repérer. Pause obligatoire car il est temps de
refaire qqs provisions pour la route à venir. Il y a plein de militaires
partout. Un peu stressant. Xiadulla est en fait une base de l’armée, ce
que nous ignorions. Finalement, ils n'ont pas l'air de nous prêter la
moindre attention, c'en est presque décevant voire même vexant. On avise
une cabane un peu à l’écart parmi toutes celles où les camionneurs
s’arrêtent manger et dormir. C'est là que nous faisons une découverte
gastronomique qui va marquer nos prochaines semaines de voyage : la
ration militaire. 4 biscuits compressés hyper caloriques, 1 sachet
d'algues séchées, 1 portion de simili corned-beef et des oignons au
vinaigre qui agrémentent à merveille les soupes de nouilles et nous
donnent plein d’énergie pour pédaler de plus en plus haut (mais pas de
plus en plus vite pour ma part...). </div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zTYar_QoZJxJLHfwid6PvtpopSzBANe5gTtuWqxVp8ww8S8gQHimo0JA8BdqXefdGbpXhqREYKX4uvT5JjzOE8CMfH4jAtvBhhouOi9p9Mh5u7NsNtfMhM0jmkWEUNWrpUOxEkzvwhE/s1600/_DSC1465.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zTYar_QoZJxJLHfwid6PvtpopSzBANe5gTtuWqxVp8ww8S8gQHimo0JA8BdqXefdGbpXhqREYKX4uvT5JjzOE8CMfH4jAtvBhhouOi9p9Mh5u7NsNtfMhM0jmkWEUNWrpUOxEkzvwhE/s320/_DSC1465.JPG" height="220" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soupe tomates - omelette, <br />
agrémentée des nouvelles saucisses rouges...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dans le bled
suivant (Dahonglutian pour ceux qui veulent suivre l’itinéraire sur une
carte), nous nous hasardons à goûter quelques chinoiseries sous vide, en
évitant scrupuleusement les pattes de poulet et le poisson au piment.
Nous jetons finalement notre dévolu sur des saucisses rouges (les jaunes
n’étaient pas terribles) et des cuisses de poulet fumé qui
constitueront dorénavant notre source de protéine quotidienne. Nous
redécollons de Dahonglutian frais et dispos après une journée de repos,
avec 30 paquets de nouilles, 8 rations de l’armée, 5 paquets de
biscuits, 9 cuisses de poulet, 18 saucisses rouges et 2 rouleaux de PQ
neufs. Direction l'Aksai Chin. La suite au prochain épisode...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-IYJEa0YrokM5Fn_Wb_760UjHfVua0xlL62gNcnBx5dyIsKz7YSZ-zJ2g73eo3w5BtfI6nhKExi7_O6-d-iRWVhgNNgnEspC7lEQ5leGUfly3nN-45Spm25vfhyphenhyphenuI_6i7NPxMgUphkg/s1600/_DSC1470.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-IYJEa0YrokM5Fn_Wb_760UjHfVua0xlL62gNcnBx5dyIsKz7YSZ-zJ2g73eo3w5BtfI6nhKExi7_O6-d-iRWVhgNNgnEspC7lEQ5leGUfly3nN-45Spm25vfhyphenhyphenuI_6i7NPxMgUphkg/s400/_DSC1470.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Provisions pour la route. <br />
Certains - à l'œil averti - auront noté la déco pour le moins originale...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Qqs photos :<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnFjFfP1xLcCImkDXwX8beUPnvHTUbAWBXFJH7SsYhCHaWW6zRkJEUd31KAURsrWc-cmhUJ6jvZ48-LHdlVhdQ3SBlqqdcwOxP5DdR-grLd9jxXyCowNKK7X58gZJC3_XJnWZ9PsEAv8s/s1600/_DSC1383b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnFjFfP1xLcCImkDXwX8beUPnvHTUbAWBXFJH7SsYhCHaWW6zRkJEUd31KAURsrWc-cmhUJ6jvZ48-LHdlVhdQ3SBlqqdcwOxP5DdR-grLd9jxXyCowNKK7X58gZJC3_XJnWZ9PsEAv8s/s640/_DSC1383b.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neige sur les hauteurs au petit matin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZWpQat2nwhvDj2ADLJWY3kV1zas0JmWrF72-dII3N1eL_njC2q9WSdmtv-xRexzwycaxawpRWD8mOW0uqui3Usp-hI-MnmPWOQtnf80597uunorQ4Je3cbuKbZT_ffUK4MmXEF_Ujsc/s1600/_DSC1453.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZWpQat2nwhvDj2ADLJWY3kV1zas0JmWrF72-dII3N1eL_njC2q9WSdmtv-xRexzwycaxawpRWD8mOW0uqui3Usp-hI-MnmPWOQtnf80597uunorQ4Je3cbuKbZT_ffUK4MmXEF_Ujsc/s640/_DSC1453.JPG" height="420" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Large vallée avant Dahonglutian</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitaWyta_8Z45mx4RctKf6MsLkBnvPUqNVD0z8LxE1BtrEhDU3U7-XRQcwaZqre-x1R8S53X3gCHqRbwCArhW4aOOYJzh2a1bVl6cwphq93-sK1cxWotRgiGcU1oqS4UNozAKQFiRYVaAw/s1600/_DSC1302.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitaWyta_8Z45mx4RctKf6MsLkBnvPUqNVD0z8LxE1BtrEhDU3U7-XRQcwaZqre-x1R8S53X3gCHqRbwCArhW4aOOYJzh2a1bVl6cwphq93-sK1cxWotRgiGcU1oqS4UNozAKQFiRYVaAw/s640/_DSC1302.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24yoNCr29xJhO9fhS8Nbgr_0SmdnXSvY0Vb_5Veir3jWgLvlPRsVWUYKfKbFkKavVprU4OgGSabV2qUdFwFoRT75KVYvVd53U8dLdEGqHmKnws_2StZCbBH4-LCqOu8Er4j3RWsluL28/s1600/_DSC1354b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24yoNCr29xJhO9fhS8Nbgr_0SmdnXSvY0Vb_5Veir3jWgLvlPRsVWUYKfKbFkKavVprU4OgGSabV2qUdFwFoRT75KVYvVd53U8dLdEGqHmKnws_2StZCbBH4-LCqOu8Er4j3RWsluL28/s400/_DSC1354b.jpg" height="237" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lever de soleil</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Autres photos à venir</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-42463185076596432352010-09-20T04:15:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:16:37.394-08:00Mazar Truck-Stop<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWIcDZCvcrjfbcVZQAMLCnkggzPKolvfIrdNxmY3DtjNMtYPqT7Oc3AXt8Xoxr_a79kV-Lu6ayMKsKs6xyYxj6RuHy8cncopxHeJ__8Xo3HX-xfi6tyYX-dhPAvf8LpHa-nc6HKu_QnI/s1600/_PPB9834.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWIcDZCvcrjfbcVZQAMLCnkggzPKolvfIrdNxmY3DtjNMtYPqT7Oc3AXt8Xoxr_a79kV-Lu6ayMKsKs6xyYxj6RuHy8cncopxHeJ__8Xo3HX-xfi6tyYX-dhPAvf8LpHa-nc6HKu_QnI/s320/_PPB9834.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Truck-stop" à Mazar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Une cinquantaine de
km nous séparent de Mazar, et un col à 4900m… Céline est malade et
parle de faire demi-tour, seule. Ce serait dommage qu'elle abandonne
maintenant alors qu'on vient juste de passer le 1er checkpoint ! Il
reste juste ce qu'il faut de provisions pour faire la route, mais pas
pour rester une journée sur place à attendre. En plus, la piste a
maintenant remplacé l'asphalte, et la lune s'est cachée, rendant la
progression de nuit plus difficile. Nous décidons donc de tricher un peu
et rallier Mazar en stop.</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Un
premier camion s'arrête, il n'y a pas la place de mettre les vélos et
le bazar. Une heure plus tard, c'est un camion de Petro China qui s'en
vient. Pierre monte les vélos sur le toit pendant que le chauffeur
s'affaire à quelque opération de mécanique. Pas bien rassurant de le
voir réparer une durite au duct-tape juste avant de passer un col (et
surtout la descente qui suit...). Nous atteignons Mazar vers minuit. Il
s'agit d'un simple "truck-stop" comme nous en verrons tout au long du
parcours, simple alignement de baraques proposant aux camionneurs de
passage un lit, un plat chaud (en général à base de nouilles ou de riz)
et qqs provisions basiques ainsi qu'un atelier de mécanique. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Après
nous être assurés qu'il n'y a ni checkpoint ni PSB dans les environs,
nous avisons une de ces baraques et nous régalons d'une soupe de
nouilles chaude avant de dormir à l'abri entre 4 murs. La nuit est
courte : nous préférons décoller aux aurores pour éviter d'être repérés à
la sortie de Mazar, mais nous roulons enfin de jour ! Suite des
aventures à venir...</div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-6888922061961150882010-09-19T04:21:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:21:38.656-08:00First checkpoint<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6a1winVmmFMSZT29bdZ6jnkHkMlOLEtgnBJkT7DtKAgi7h0RuxDhgXKouz9VH5ZeTK1uJTTT4afiXjtW4eLIvKfC1iEl-c0CeMRFY-UQvwk3uSmFVL3jMwKlnGM1-PCXAOYfJKbXwfc/s1600/_DSC1262.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6a1winVmmFMSZT29bdZ6jnkHkMlOLEtgnBJkT7DtKAgi7h0RuxDhgXKouz9VH5ZeTK1uJTTT4afiXjtW4eLIvKfC1iEl-c0CeMRFY-UQvwk3uSmFVL3jMwKlnGM1-PCXAOYfJKbXwfc/s320/_DSC1262.jpg" height="205" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sieste à l'écart de la route après le passage<br />
de nuit du checkpoint de Kudi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nous avions entendu
toutes sortes d’histoires sur le checkpoint de Kudi, la plupart étant
des rumeurs véhiculées sur les forums principalement par des gens qui
n'y ont jamais mis les pieds, la seule info vraiment crédible étant que
si vous vous pointez de jour sans permis, les militaires vous font faire
demi-tour.</div>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Le
réveil sonne à 2h15 du matin mettant fin à une nuit bien trop courte à
mon goût. Nous avons campé cachés de la route derrière une butte de
terre. Kudi est à 6 km environ. Heureusement, la route est goudronnée
sur cette portion, ce qui rend la progression à la lampe frontale plus
aisée. Quelques chiens en quête de proies (les cyclistes figurant parmi
leurs préférées) aboient à notre passage. Armée de cailloux et d’un
grand bâton, je n’ai (presque) même plus peur (euh... non, ça, c'est pas
vrai !). Petite montée d’adrénaline quand l’un des canidés entreprend
de s’approcher d’un peu plus près. « Fais gaffe, tu vas finir en steak »
lui criai-je. Efficace.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
3h45
du matin. Première barrière à l’entrée du village. Elle est levée. Nous
éteignons les frontales. Il n’y a personne, ouf. Le vrai checkpoint
gardé est un peu plus loin à la sortie du village. Les barrières sont
abaissées, éclairées par un spot. J’espère que le tricycle passe bien en
dessous car il n’y a pas la place sur les côtés. Petite seconde de
doute vite passée. Juste le temps d’entendre un vague « héhé » de la
part du militaire de faction probablement légèrement surpris dans son
sommeil, nous accélérons dans la nuit avant de rallumer les frontales.
C’était finalement d’une simplicité banale.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Pendant
quelques minutes, je m’inquiète de savoir si le militaire a donné
l’alerte. Aucun mouvement à l’horizon. Peut-être vaut-il mieux pour lui
ne rien dire, il se ferait engueuler d’avoir laissé passer des cyclistes
clandestins ? Nous pédalons jusqu’au petit jour, avant de nous cacher à
nouveau derrière un talus. Aucune idée à quel point nous allons être
recherchés (notre ego voudrait quand même que les autorités
s’intéressent un peu à nous), mais le récit d’un hollandais qui s’est
fait arrêter une dizaine de km après le checkpost nous incite à la
prudence. Profil bas aujourd’hui et les quelques jours suivants. Nous
passons la journée derrière un talus, avant de redécoller juste avant la
nuit vers 19h.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Le
ciel est dégagé, et la lune presque pleine éclaire la route devant
nous. Pas besoin de frontale. Les montagnes surplombant la vallée sont
enveloppées d’une lumière envoûtante. Nous roulons ainsi jusque vers 23h
avant de chercher un endroit pour camper et nous cacher la journée
suivante. Il fait moins 8°C au petit matin, petit avant-goût de ce qui
nous attend... Heureusement, rapidement le soleil sort et réchauffe la
tente. C’est un peu frustrant de rester là à attendre, mais ça permet de
se reposer et d’écrire un peu. Nous avons décidé d’avancer ainsi
jusqu’à Mazar. Ensuite, Inch Allah (même s’il vaudrait mieux invoquer
d’autres dieux une fois quitté le pays ouïghour). On ne va pas non plus
traverser tout le Tibet de nuit pour échapper aux autorités ! D’autant
qu’on est encore loin du Tibet à proprement parler. Il nous reste 500km à
parcourir, 5 grands cols à franchir et l’immense désert glaciel de
l’Aksai Chin à traverser.</div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-33790828602410077952010-09-16T04:19:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:20:25.873-08:00Road 219<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyoou6k8b48IF5vWa4O1j15PdYebs-sZ54Rzcq2hiI_rYeCAaILCMOEDLKi75qMXVVHX-zy6NMJOWkuGE_dpki72oAtCYL7TyUOeOGcug1MiiyN08ViBhInliShg5NOTOedpxQSCTyfI/s1600/_DSC1206b.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyoou6k8b48IF5vWa4O1j15PdYebs-sZ54Rzcq2hiI_rYeCAaILCMOEDLKi75qMXVVHX-zy6NMJOWkuGE_dpki72oAtCYL7TyUOeOGcug1MiiyN08ViBhInliShg5NOTOedpxQSCTyfI/s320/_DSC1206b.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a>Ca
y est, nous sommes officiellement sur la route du Tibet, route 219,
nommément « Xinjiang – Tibet Highway », théoriquement interdite aux
étrangers. C’est parait-il noté quelque part sur un panneau... en
chinois probablement ! Il nous reste un gros 160km avant le 1er
checkpoint. D'ici là, nous sommes semi-clandestins.</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A
la sortie de Yarkand, nous croisons un cycliste barcelonais qui a l’air
bien dépité. Il n’a pas réussi à passer sur la route du Tibet : «
Police, many problems ». Cela semble confirmer ce que nous anticipions
d’après les infos glanées à droite et à gauche, la route est très
surveillée par la police et l’armée après le checkpoint de Kudi, et
probablement jusqu’à Mazar (à vos atlas : cherchez l’intersection entre
la route 219 et une bifurcation sur la droite vers un col qui mène au
Pakistan). Note positive : les amendes à payer en cas d’arrestation sur
cette portion ne sont pas excessives, une trentaine d’euros environ, la
principale sanction étant de devoir faire demi-tour. La barrière de la
langue nous empêche d’en apprendre beaucoup plus.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSV6NmheBxlNuCVF0UuGrdvwcCHN9YhH2kclKZVZFG-lr13auaRfAhnRoYdBvpU-qyL463hV_Sj-owsjBUuKaJVpO03bvqi1ay6wSP1M9Q-pMZHiYjEjGLk2ni3qmKXc10xWssL0j1Q74/s1600/_PPB9789.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSV6NmheBxlNuCVF0UuGrdvwcCHN9YhH2kclKZVZFG-lr13auaRfAhnRoYdBvpU-qyL463hV_Sj-owsjBUuKaJVpO03bvqi1ay6wSP1M9Q-pMZHiYjEjGLk2ni3qmKXc10xWssL0j1Q74/s320/_PPB9789.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a>Les
paysages demeurent bien ternes en cette première journée sur la 219,
plus ou moins du désert, quelques arbustes, et une immense raffinerie de
pétrole pour tout arrière plan. Les montagnes au loin restent cachées
dans un mélange de brume et de poussière. Ca fait envie, n’est-ce pas ?
Heureusement, l’accueil chaleureux dans le petit village ouïgour de Pusa
compense un peu. Nouilles aux légumes agrémentées de l’immuable morceau
de mouton, probablement le dernier avant longtemps… du moins j’espère.
Le contraire voudrait dire qu’on s’est fait refouler. Ce serait une
double déception : ne pas accéder au Tibet, et pire surtout devoir se
farcir encore du mouton. Terrible ! L'invitation à passer la nuit entre 4
murs alors qu'il pleuvine dehors est la bienvenue. Nous profitons d’une
petite épicerie pour faire le plein de provisions (noodle soups et
biscuits) dans ce qui devrait être le dernier village avant une grosse
semaine.</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJrXQ6QOQCXVqOIeGlnkmIcu-orrcLUpnnwJse40dKAXzESt3bBv0IqGXqxQEEon84wGwpmb8SXrro9IFaEgf4wMJC2IkdMtcH9qmsfLxNAt4zs8OC878W314S472Ejbp_OhiM6bH7W8/s1600/_PPB9815.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJrXQ6QOQCXVqOIeGlnkmIcu-orrcLUpnnwJse40dKAXzESt3bBv0IqGXqxQEEon84wGwpmb8SXrro9IFaEgf4wMJC2IkdMtcH9qmsfLxNAt4zs8OC878W314S472Ejbp_OhiM6bH7W8/s320/_PPB9815.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descente du Kudi La le lendemain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Le lendemain, nous
décollons pour le col du Kudi La dans une petite bruine fine. Le goudron
cède la place à la piste au bout de 20km, ça manquait ! Arrivée au col
en fin d’après-midi. Il pleuvine toujours. La vue sur le K2 (fabuleuse à
ce qu'il parait) est quelque peu bouchée par un épais brouillard, il
fait 4°C, je suis transie de froid. Il est temps d’enfiler la doudoune
sous la fabuleuse veste goretex (celle-là même qui fait qu’on est autant
mouillé par la transpiration que par la pluie…). Montage de tente en
4ème vitesse. Un plat de soupe de nouilles réconfortant (car sans
mouton) cuisiné au réchaud et un grand bol de thé chaud, puis dodo. Il
faut se reposer pour être d’attaque à la veille du passage de nuit de
notre 1er checkpoint. Parés pour l’aventure !<br />
<br /></div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-14601174886629737262010-09-15T04:17:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:28:04.221-08:00Tibet, here we come ! <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vNcqgd5oi18X0snCavKvuPCh_cW74plny-QD0wJotue1QoXtY0Y7QIJnQ6BvE0qCjisfitGoLuQwfPzQZl5BfSOju4mMLv8lRRGKu2TGFsfaoNveInq7vrRFOE_YczQfbqUyhWWS77U/s1600/_DSC1199.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vNcqgd5oi18X0snCavKvuPCh_cW74plny-QD0wJotue1QoXtY0Y7QIJnQ6BvE0qCjisfitGoLuQwfPzQZl5BfSOju4mMLv8lRRGKu2TGFsfaoNveInq7vrRFOE_YczQfbqUyhWWS77U/s200/_DSC1199.JPG" height="150" width="222" /></a>Départ
de Kashgar lundi 13 septembre en début d’après-midi après les emplettes
de dernière minute. C’est parti pour 3 jours de route poussiéreuse en
bordure du désert du Taklamakan. Le trafic est assez intense - faut dire
qu’on a un peu perdu l’habitude de la circulation - et les paysages un
peu moches. Bref, 270km pas bien agréables. Pas grand-chose d’autre à
faire que rouler. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Ax0zHkArZR9YOV0pZoHwp2gZwbKTrMARdv8-eTz1zMg46vHbFnXhyK8lBCrOXJxuE3YTKez_aqA3TZluXXfMgnrc-z_fM01ePpAMXAS8WN_nXGzxWuuzyI029abkkvL38dReob2DG1A/s1600/_DSC1264.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Ax0zHkArZR9YOV0pZoHwp2gZwbKTrMARdv8-eTz1zMg46vHbFnXhyK8lBCrOXJxuE3YTKez_aqA3TZluXXfMgnrc-z_fM01ePpAMXAS8WN_nXGzxWuuzyI029abkkvL38dReob2DG1A/s400/_DSC1264.jpg" height="255" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Heureusement,
il y a 2-3 villages ouïgours sympas sur le chemin mais impossible d'y
loger. Les seules rares villes avec hôtel sont des cités chinoises
classiques.</div>
<br />
Difficile
de trouver un hébergement qui accepte les étrangers, et impossible de
négocier les prix dans l’unique hôtel autorisé. A Yarkand (Sache), la
police vient frapper à la porte de la chambre vers minuit et demi, juste
pour dire bonjour semble-t-il. Ceux qui me connaissent un peu savent
que j’ai rarement le réveil bien agréable, quand en plus j’ai eu une
grosse journée et que je suis censée me lever tôt le lendemain… Je vous
laisse imaginer mon humeur !Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-974595551476749522010-09-12T03:08:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:40:19.418-08:00Karakoram Highway<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgEcvOm5kfya0NTAkiLMvWEZb8EdH5iRjkPABGzZjD3-rWgRD-t3bR6vav_HfuHKqUOHivAngnADuFoGEJ8kqBKtAyBVsGqoEBh_0Dvq9dENyvhAO08p_OxXGuYUMcODud_FApBqjsK-U/s1600/_DSC1034.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhughoNYooPxz8MHaVLBfgFWZWmCrmKCYVPi8dzrjufml5RtSNQM7d2kAJV06iykx2OYdgJSIpd20aDx9_sM3LEfHakdnq65puMaJuT-caG-KlF30MuufhCRDkWBDVj3wROnDTOgUGYXk4/s1600/_DSC1005.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhughoNYooPxz8MHaVLBfgFWZWmCrmKCYVPi8dzrjufml5RtSNQM7d2kAJV06iykx2OYdgJSIpd20aDx9_sM3LEfHakdnq65puMaJuT-caG-KlF30MuufhCRDkWBDVj3wROnDTOgUGYXk4/s320/_DSC1005.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516087463592472818" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 174px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 0px; width: 256px;" /></a><br />
<div align="justify">
We were only supposed to spend 3-4 days in Kashgar, just the time to have some rest, update the blog et do some maintenance on the bikes, But here we are, still stuck at the friendly Old Town youth hostel for what seems to have been an eternity, waiting for 2 parcels that are supposed to be arriving from France. It's not that I don't like Kashgar but I feel it's time to move and I need some fresh air. We set off for the Karakorum Highway for a few days' ride up to Lake Karakul at the bottom of the Muztagh Ata, a beautiful 7534m peak. It's nice to be back in the mountains.</div>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div align="justify">
To avoid riding the same road twice (there's only one road so it's not possible to do a loop), we take a jeep up to the lake. This is cheating I admit, all the more so as the 220km back to Kashgar are mainly downhill... The summit of the Muztagh Ata seems so close! A nice long gentle slope as Pierre would say. Yeah, well it's still 7,534m!</div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7w5_R6rJWcGbfuloa82Vt2dfuGgspxZpT5o-v0bNV4ontoMmNRC-lmkxjDx-vQ72gAD34ojt89Wwfu5qhUR4VmvpYrwX1HKbMSNZ5lV0zhvoWb7-6MrMrb_xY2cB44k4X3BZiWv1szP8/s1600/_DSC1044.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7w5_R6rJWcGbfuloa82Vt2dfuGgspxZpT5o-v0bNV4ontoMmNRC-lmkxjDx-vQ72gAD34ojt89Wwfu5qhUR4VmvpYrwX1HKbMSNZ5lV0zhvoWb7-6MrMrb_xY2cB44k4X3BZiWv1szP8/s400/_DSC1044.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516067421280047874" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 253px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 600px;" /></a><br />
<div align="center">
<img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/chine/_DSC1063.jpg" style="height: 257px; width: 500px;" /><br /><i>Muztagh Ata</i></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezOkfgNWRh2G86nqHL4CHBMtRxHoosFLR5gaQ0MTwYS6DiZkG4fcFtEqg2nL19TFMJUJqfK-zyVHgA8xbtiUFZfO1T08oSI7z4SmlqExFLCic6zoYpGJbc0FrOE2YrlKwwtY7QP9jjAA/s400/_DSC1034.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezOkfgNWRh2G86nqHL4CHBMtRxHoosFLR5gaQ0MTwYS6DiZkG4fcFtEqg2nL19TFMJUJqfK-zyVHgA8xbtiUFZfO1T08oSI7z4SmlqExFLCic6zoYpGJbc0FrOE2YrlKwwtY7QP9jjAA/s400/_DSC1034.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516087956192841666" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 254px; margin: 0pt 10px 0px 0pt; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div align="justify">
The area is mostly Kyrgyz, and some families settle by the lake with their herds for the summer. They also offer yurt stays so we stayed there overnight.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/chine/_DSC0972.jpg" style="height: 262px; width: 400px;" /></div>
<br />
<div align="center">
<img src="http://transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/chine/_DSC1086.jpg" style="height: 250px; width: 400px;" /><br />
<i>Karakul lake and the Gongur Shan (7719m) in the background</i></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1h7YqVBVmIPQUGoRh7aaeaCHXZgvUzCZUpGifqF5N3ZOeQfl2q6yQRgcFr_7ccivvt28q6hmLTb20QV909Z2AYGtHYFWDxqI51pK6AidLtz5FY98d4a2snkRVZ3NcPa9QzQIVafgNdcU/s1600/_DSC1154.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1h7YqVBVmIPQUGoRh7aaeaCHXZgvUzCZUpGifqF5N3ZOeQfl2q6yQRgcFr_7ccivvt28q6hmLTb20QV909Z2AYGtHYFWDxqI51pK6AidLtz5FY98d4a2snkRVZ3NcPa9QzQIVafgNdcU/s400/_DSC1154.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516067430281441026" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><br />
<div align="center">
<i>Back to Kashgar, Karakoram "Highway"</i></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOfzqkcZPZZ42k8rn_d3lNxW1YAUuWtHY_sU9TFfSGQy_D2LT7ypUuBH6X5g9uAfoOZgE-eRZAhYu6NDFSM9NOpyEOMVbKTrG6CJFGBctdUmGysU1iocBDEjT3Xy2FpT-TyUpMdQ_SLM/s1600/_DSC0931.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOfzqkcZPZZ42k8rn_d3lNxW1YAUuWtHY_sU9TFfSGQy_D2LT7ypUuBH6X5g9uAfoOZgE-eRZAhYu6NDFSM9NOpyEOMVbKTrG6CJFGBctdUmGysU1iocBDEjT3Xy2FpT-TyUpMdQ_SLM/s400/_DSC0931.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516067399668839938" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 263px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div align="center">
<i>Sharing the road...</i></div>
Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-15054206076059584572010-09-05T04:38:00.000-07:002014-02-05T04:39:10.937-08:00Welcome to Mao's country<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYeVD1OkbSl352ZhNoio1_M59OJf75ewi33l1ldIDpFzzlCWmVFYHdX3JzxnSCep9JeuWrrCTiC9HtoS0v-q-q9BuDxgbJcCFnYsIMK6KS-u-IbhbysfzdIyX6Kv3VxnZGrqzTHzD1YxY/s1600/Mao.bmp" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYeVD1OkbSl352ZhNoio1_M59OJf75ewi33l1ldIDpFzzlCWmVFYHdX3JzxnSCep9JeuWrrCTiC9HtoS0v-q-q9BuDxgbJcCFnYsIMK6KS-u-IbhbysfzdIyX6Kv3VxnZGrqzTHzD1YxY/s320/Mao.bmp" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514092507573058002" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 119px; margin: 5px 10px 0px 0pt; width: 179px;" /></a>Enfin
quand je dis "bienvenue", ce n'est pas partout ni à tout instant. Nos
1ères rencontres nous font vite regretter le chaleureux accueil tadjik
et les sourires afghans. Nous avons bien croisé un chinois accueillant :
le douanier qui a rempli pour nous les cartes d'arrivée à la frontière
et m'a demandé comment on dit "I love you" en français, en ajoutant que
la France est un pays romantique... Le charme de l'uniforme (et du
bonhomme) n'ayant pas fonctionné, je ne finirai pas mes jours à la
frontière sino-kirghize.</div>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Les
rencontres avec les autorités semblent se produire de manière un peu
trop récurrente à mon goût. J'essaie de ne pas y voir un signe pour la
suite du périple.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDRg1_F51NrIpRqcuPxZy8TUHYYNcMAz61W5UNcHOsx33LhZosvUxVHqDcinNjnFaLgMlGUcXmB-VZyD-poc-5E6dIqmT4wImAaMt5tS13S3SuHlBT0iTCYdu26f6RqK6bpYS8Qxr3Xo/s1600/_PPB9488.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDRg1_F51NrIpRqcuPxZy8TUHYYNcMAz61W5UNcHOsx33LhZosvUxVHqDcinNjnFaLgMlGUcXmB-VZyD-poc-5E6dIqmT4wImAaMt5tS13S3SuHlBT0iTCYdu26f6RqK6bpYS8Qxr3Xo/s320/_PPB9488.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514107115183289058" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 187px; margin: 5pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 290px;" /></a>La
2ème nuit en Chine, nous nous faisons dégager de l'hôtel par un
policier certes souriant mais non moins inflexible, qui nous accompagne
jusqu'à l'unique auberge autorisée aux étrangers. Nous nous étions déjà
presque fait mettre à la porte la nuit précédente à 11h du soir par le
proprio peut-être un peu soûl de l'unique guesthouse d'un village à qui
nous faisions remarquer que l'étable dans laquelle il avait installé nos
matelas ne valait pas vraiment les 100RMB (une douzaine d'euros) qu'il
nous réclamait. Bonjour l'accueil !<br />
<br />
Le lendemain alors
que nous cherchons à accéder à internet pour la 1ère fois en plus d'1
mois, le proprio de l'unique "web café" de Wuqia nous demande de nous
asseoir et d'attendre pendant qu'il passe un coup de fil. Chouette, il
va trouver une solution, on va enfin pouvoir envoyer qqs nouvelles. En
fait de solution, ce sont 3 policiers qui débarquent pour nous signifier
que nous n'avons pas le droit d'être là ! L'internet est semble-t-il
interdit aux étrangers... Du coup, à chaque fois qu'on aperçoit un
uniforme au loin, on se demande si c'est pour nous ! A 10h du soir la
nuit suivante, qq'un frappe à la porte de notre chambre d'hôtel. C'est
encore la police qui veut savoir ce qu'on fabrique encore ici et veut
s'assurer qu'on dégagera bien demain matin. Au moins, on ne se fait pas
virer cette fois-ci.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgXJsamTxDlrBGdt5mWSLMSGWF7I2RMIqFlgGVf2QrorCgGHaBy13Zhm075c9_xqUCsUSmK0_Q1OOzIWNI_1qrHMuUd5M7hAXOs7LQLROKurpq0BwUpDsnPsjiuP7FY6IwRPc5IUVNUA/s1600/_DSC0820.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgXJsamTxDlrBGdt5mWSLMSGWF7I2RMIqFlgGVf2QrorCgGHaBy13Zhm075c9_xqUCsUSmK0_Q1OOzIWNI_1qrHMuUd5M7hAXOs7LQLROKurpq0BwUpDsnPsjiuP7FY6IwRPc5IUVNUA/s320/_DSC0820.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514098975430617394" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 168px; margin: 0pt 0pt 0px 10px; width: 251px;" /></a>En
revanche, lorsque nous empruntons l'autoroute à vélo, personne ne nous
dit rien... Les tracteurs peuvent bien rouler là, pourquoi pas les vélos
!?!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPE66F_jGg9B-lH6KYxsVA_jljLT6ZPVWarXeYOLzc-1TniEkgmWcIGv82pqDTyGwYasmCYECe-VaGcyiYGJgO-V1qnvDbJPhe3IgXFMhxuCQABsH74V65O5CBVaIemCW2DTYJWJiXe0/s1600/autoroute.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPE66F_jGg9B-lH6KYxsVA_jljLT6ZPVWarXeYOLzc-1TniEkgmWcIGv82pqDTyGwYasmCYECe-VaGcyiYGJgO-V1qnvDbJPhe3IgXFMhxuCQABsH74V65O5CBVaIemCW2DTYJWJiXe0/s320/autoroute.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514097106504745634" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 146px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 289px;" /></a><br />
<br />
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Bref, je me sens comme une vraie hors-la-loi, c'est grisant !<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvlAgxbKFXaYwoLNXgYanpOcMwTO12wopfhauxIHDcsiEnFTPn45zQVAOqwzM0WyaMckIUfAH6hLYxlWF0W9QnTiQl80Q8Uw6yT3MLuujN58GrFnqwwX9AwHaC_KcTGtyIEFpxQYjO2c/s1600/_PPB9541.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvlAgxbKFXaYwoLNXgYanpOcMwTO12wopfhauxIHDcsiEnFTPn45zQVAOqwzM0WyaMckIUfAH6hLYxlWF0W9QnTiQl80Q8Uw6yT3MLuujN58GrFnqwwX9AwHaC_KcTGtyIEFpxQYjO2c/s320/_PPB9541.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514101857654880098" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 174px; margin: 5pt 0px 0px 10pt; width: 246px;" /></a>La
fraîcheur de l'accueil est compensé par la variété culinaire. Coup de
bol c'est ramadan, les restos ouïghours sont fermés le midi, nous
échappons donc un peu au mouton. Depuis la frontière, c'en est fini du
régime patates à toutes les sauces (enfin quand je dis sauce... patates
au mouton les jours fastes, patates au kéfir, patates au pain - rassi de
préférence - et même patates aux macaronis...), elles sont
avantageusement remplacées par du riz blanc qui s'accompagne fort bien
de piment. Du coup, peu importe la sauce et la combinaison de légumes,
pâtes, viande ou poisson en accompagnement, ça goûte juste le piment. On
expérimente une bouteille de vin local (du désert de Gobi) "Champs
d'Or" millésime 2005. 1er commentaire du spécialiste : "C'est un vin de
pays chaud" (comme quoi, ça vaut le coup d'être spécialiste...). 1er
commentaire de la non-spécialiste : "c'est un peu spécial, ça pique en
bouche" (j'ai peut-être confondu avec la sauce du riz...). Je vous passe
le commentaire de la québécoise. Conclusion unanime : pas terrible.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRUUHlcfwTaLQRMjtULJYNeP9pCzVcegm4Z45YrN_hesYIC11HH7vZugPsV5AXP2P4cxrPtCKjuMC00IJfgMjIUA_ZXFlw7k5n_oiej_LY9dL6a3vNe5URNdv3UgV6xLm94R4VzSdNws/s1600/_PPB9526.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRUUHlcfwTaLQRMjtULJYNeP9pCzVcegm4Z45YrN_hesYIC11HH7vZugPsV5AXP2P4cxrPtCKjuMC00IJfgMjIUA_ZXFlw7k5n_oiej_LY9dL6a3vNe5URNdv3UgV6xLm94R4VzSdNws/s400/_PPB9526.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514108737435051426" style="cursor: pointer; height: 268px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Brochettes de tofu au piment, ça change du riz...</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLgGhhoeuokgSkkRpokulVYADtIjL1YVUdZg3I2tsShihUtEU5lLKbnGBnjlTb23x5xToi-C1BRyYS3uSBYXHSDBCtzO9Fi8LFQ9a1ZNnkYvVlMKuUP0bgSXx83VIH5xaDx9U0sRAXCk/s1600/_DSC0706.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLgGhhoeuokgSkkRpokulVYADtIjL1YVUdZg3I2tsShihUtEU5lLKbnGBnjlTb23x5xToi-C1BRyYS3uSBYXHSDBCtzO9Fi8LFQ9a1ZNnkYvVlMKuUP0bgSXx83VIH5xaDx9U0sRAXCk/s400/_DSC0706.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514110988857444178" style="cursor: pointer; height: 266px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Pates aux légumes et au piment, ça change encore du riz...</div>
<br />
Voici
pour les nouvelles depuis le pays de Mao. Décollage dans qqs jours pour
une destination dont je tairai le nom sur un blog public histoire de
m'éviter davantage d'ennuis avec les autorités locale (ça commence par
"Ti" et ça finit par "bet"...). On n'attend pas la fête de l'Aïd (tant
pis pour le mouton). Je continue de rouler avec Pierre et Céline.
J'espère ne pas donner de nouvelles avant d'arriver à Kathmandou dans
environ 2 mois, sinon ça voudrait dire qu'on s'est fait refouler...</div>
<br />
Qqs photos de la route entre Sary Tash et Kashgar :<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1lfNrRUbdMdoZAKOgVwGTr6JgVjVOiF_lWJZkUOMJju5Hdg-x41Xs2D-RVirN7SWkUiP3s4nSmK_i6FysGa99bHUutcB-crKLBpC7flrW2_rHLA-tktWhn_hsidLzt0RdnIRq_9JT4g/s1600/_PPB9483.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1lfNrRUbdMdoZAKOgVwGTr6JgVjVOiF_lWJZkUOMJju5Hdg-x41Xs2D-RVirN7SWkUiP3s4nSmK_i6FysGa99bHUutcB-crKLBpC7flrW2_rHLA-tktWhn_hsidLzt0RdnIRq_9JT4g/s400/_PPB9483.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514107916320298386" style="height: 268px; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1rUXPhe0B8fXQanpIAEC7J9JhyphenhyphenmGWMx8-nn_PNqOdhavFXNZ8chsqT-1uxXN_QUk03vdoMzTqcizPnpd8G9I10my_sRw4xFp7Z6x_tra-gi7XDUc9wqsMDHUhZP_e1ib-OoERCkXFHI/s1600/_PPB9430.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1rUXPhe0B8fXQanpIAEC7J9JhyphenhyphenmGWMx8-nn_PNqOdhavFXNZ8chsqT-1uxXN_QUk03vdoMzTqcizPnpd8G9I10my_sRw4xFp7Z6x_tra-gi7XDUc9wqsMDHUhZP_e1ib-OoERCkXFHI/s400/_PPB9430.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514107914760840930" style="height: 284px; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIRH4YFVr6ayNMgULfViMGMouf10pNLAwHuak9XicxGwervP_Oy9SK7Gld-YDOVL80HIm3X8Lx9P0RqaS7p1CmErpCdH2vqHorCxjGoM1i2_H1LbGyJIv1vOOJ5fPdsYboN1tBirdsjQ/s1600/_DSC0615.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIRH4YFVr6ayNMgULfViMGMouf10pNLAwHuak9XicxGwervP_Oy9SK7Gld-YDOVL80HIm3X8Lx9P0RqaS7p1CmErpCdH2vqHorCxjGoM1i2_H1LbGyJIv1vOOJ5fPdsYboN1tBirdsjQ/s400/_DSC0615.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514108743473368914" style="height: 227px; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqHUr8FEFNKO4z1Ryr-KstaRflnIQ4_jYUVZuRHYr-q1KvrFkrkuqTpP8vG6vwZl4_moa5a0-K0m_fKYcMEKodR26vLxcF2ldm7j9yeXued85Xwd9PEaekYSNiCV296OxdaV_7ozomZ8/s1600/_DSC0699.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqHUr8FEFNKO4z1Ryr-KstaRflnIQ4_jYUVZuRHYr-q1KvrFkrkuqTpP8vG6vwZl4_moa5a0-K0m_fKYcMEKodR26vLxcF2ldm7j9yeXued85Xwd9PEaekYSNiCV296OxdaV_7ozomZ8/s400/_DSC0699.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514108760439275122" style="height: 266px; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nrvgxBWpttFez2_tmtwxcO9-sdrrQ3yhFiIyC3KWdWZ6zf1bnBQpQfsJzQvJ15BiNC781GLeq367DFFsY9yntHcVkT-Douw2ai0YZtdY8iQQKIa2mhmMhwCaqreujASetyxhYxVLnSk/s1600/_DSC0660.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nrvgxBWpttFez2_tmtwxcO9-sdrrQ3yhFiIyC3KWdWZ6zf1bnBQpQfsJzQvJ15BiNC781GLeq367DFFsY9yntHcVkT-Douw2ai0YZtdY8iQQKIa2mhmMhwCaqreujASetyxhYxVLnSk/s400/_DSC0660.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514108747754064658" style="height: 269px; width: 401px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufmq3Hl0sFcauf_wdhaAMHukdq6s-YGvkXGFlEJXFINbO-pyO6oE6BlV4N7HqlBmVXeiL8AmCmgFwhxgJ0LSi-_NjqDNXxDK6qEVogKifpbrWwarl8tqRx1oS4w0B_kjHXiIxLFiQobc/s1600/_PPB9422.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufmq3Hl0sFcauf_wdhaAMHukdq6s-YGvkXGFlEJXFINbO-pyO6oE6BlV4N7HqlBmVXeiL8AmCmgFwhxgJ0LSi-_NjqDNXxDK6qEVogKifpbrWwarl8tqRx1oS4w0B_kjHXiIxLFiQobc/s400/_PPB9422.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514107909424931906" style="height: 227px; width: 402px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lx8TzugvYPChgBnqJIre5C_Pa0J-cV1XK-inaSnP6rI4h_87zcVdNX60TqdznU3fjcM40N3E4gh4W25l6KrkVSy6E1nS39l_lRAsLAXJX5sXbsqlScsRgJv6oT3XfhfMqi3MZFwS_mc/s1600/_DSC0670.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lx8TzugvYPChgBnqJIre5C_Pa0J-cV1XK-inaSnP6rI4h_87zcVdNX60TqdznU3fjcM40N3E4gh4W25l6KrkVSy6E1nS39l_lRAsLAXJX5sXbsqlScsRgJv6oT3XfhfMqi3MZFwS_mc/s400/_DSC0670.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514108751788430658" style="height: 163px; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-cY94JiVz2E_68s-BS04_pVEv-gLpkcfntMdzS9iNFKy9udTA8uJKJQTCJ-LLsGe3EJfzvd5aJpsgBCwZh0cXDv6UE1VoPZ8H1x8v_WhFrGghCufvv26WfTOkmMZCVg9E1giCwShCnQ/s1600/_PPB9507.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-cY94JiVz2E_68s-BS04_pVEv-gLpkcfntMdzS9iNFKy9udTA8uJKJQTCJ-LLsGe3EJfzvd5aJpsgBCwZh0cXDv6UE1VoPZ8H1x8v_WhFrGghCufvv26WfTOkmMZCVg9E1giCwShCnQ/s400/_PPB9507.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514107921292461618" style="cursor: pointer; height: 265px; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
<br />Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-21876019209620524912010-08-20T06:24:00.000-07:002011-02-05T03:27:30.635-08:00Pamirs, on the roof of the world<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_YNZ7pyUePAwxeDvWZKn7ANS2i3gM3sghcHdTA3bPyGJivmNTykxaGKbFzYYOvQzkmmoqkwFdYlSbYvRchCkzlSNhr-Z5sPw2IJa6QiY6rGBPDs6DMtSYVOzZPBll1xjiMc3Wx9j4vqY/s1600/_DSC0538.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0px 10px 10pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_YNZ7pyUePAwxeDvWZKn7ANS2i3gM3sghcHdTA3bPyGJivmNTykxaGKbFzYYOvQzkmmoqkwFdYlSbYvRchCkzlSNhr-Z5sPw2IJa6QiY6rGBPDs6DMtSYVOzZPBll1xjiMc3Wx9j4vqY/s320/_DSC0538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514160899855376482" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Message coming...Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-62656131638504189752010-08-15T06:25:00.000-07:002011-02-05T03:27:30.635-08:00Going down Kargush Pass...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVj_eX4EGvuDMsVHMnDEJX5tRvGqZP8Q5X5Cv_zUMS3-A5y-WCSZu4Ds_t2_ens3v0ejWhVAFxWy7yLNXzEtg-jyQ8LEfRWvFRDql0YAN5mLwQyiCAusGycDHbQCKzm-30JPpmCyVM3k/s1600/_PPB9120_GF.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0px 10px 10pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVj_eX4EGvuDMsVHMnDEJX5tRvGqZP8Q5X5Cv_zUMS3-A5y-WCSZu4Ds_t2_ens3v0ejWhVAFxWy7yLNXzEtg-jyQ8LEfRWvFRDql0YAN5mLwQyiCAusGycDHbQCKzm-30JPpmCyVM3k/s320/_PPB9120_GF.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514159915115493970" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Message coming...Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-86982715572948386062010-08-12T05:58:00.000-07:002011-02-05T03:27:30.636-08:00Cycling in the Afghan Wakhan – Is there a road somewhere?<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NsPfkMY5-fz40KQoG5YTJyl-MmmdDsaKUIQIHw8QozpkpJaQHim7nHC4Vfu3Fe7QLHoyx8pBU1aW_MvZ6HWhP03RqFZ024pnHgYzJSMqUSGpbYIPgaiZUIvk2oNNB5O0NRl_XXnA-Fc/s1600/DSC_0046_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.électro-encéphalographie();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514117411277741586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NsPfkMY5-fz40KQoG5YTJyl-MmmdDsaKUIQIHw8QozpkpJaQHim7nHC4Vfu3Fe7QLHoyx8pBU1aW_MvZ6HWhP03RqFZ024pnHgYzJSMqUSGpbYIPgaiZUIvk2oNNB5O0NRl_XXnA-Fc/s320/DSC_0046_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 181px; margin: 5pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 272px;" /></a>When we told people in Ishkashim that we wanted to cycle to the Wakhan, we would always get the same answer: “bicycle, problem, not possible”, to which we invariably responded: “bicycle never problem, we go anywhere”. Well, that was before we actually saw the state of the so-called “road”…</div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">It took us almost 4 days to cover the 140km between the small village of Wazed where we had ended the trek at the foot of the Big Pamir and the border town of Ishkashim.<br />
<br />
After just a few kms, we encounter our first big river crossing. The boys go ahead to scout it out. It seems to be OK. Céline dives in, water up to her chest. I start crossing and end up both feet stuck in several inches of thick mud, water up to my waist, a tiny bit stressful! After a few trips back and forth, we manage to get all the stuff across.</div><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0047_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0047_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 270px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0071_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0071_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8910_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8910_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I keep my helmet on, you never know what can happen these days!<br />
</span></div><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0077_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0077_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a>This was the first of a long series…<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9038_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9038_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8929_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8929_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9017_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9017_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9016_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9016_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8897_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8897_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8934_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8934_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8935_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8935_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a> <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8932_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8932_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4522_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4522_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0154_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0154_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 273px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9068_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9068_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Help !</span></div><br />
No tarmac anywhere of course. The “road” often disappears under water, mud, sand or the occasionnal landslide. When there’s no mud or sand, there are rocks. The small streams or mud puddles that come before each sandy part are the worst… The transmission and brakes squeak and screech. I’m glad I don’t have rim brakes !<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Landslide :</div><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8902_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8902_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8904_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8904_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Some rocks :<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4329_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4329_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 401px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 275px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8923_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8923_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 266px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">That looks hard work !</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8924_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8924_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 225px;" /></a><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8925_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8925_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 225px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">On the left, posing for the photo, on the right moving on anyway I can<br />
(or the other way round, I don't remember)</span><br />
<br />
</div>Some sand and mud for a change :<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/6/DSC_0007_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/6/DSC_0007_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8965.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8965.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 269px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 403px;" /></a>Sand and water :<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9045_GFb.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9045_GFb.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Some more rocks :</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0104_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0104_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/6/DSC_0020_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/6/DSC_0020_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><br />
Rocks plus water :<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8906_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8906_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
It can be fairly steep :<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4329_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4329_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 586px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4323_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4323_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 260px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Sometimes, it goes down :<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9065_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9065_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div></div>At some point, the road is cut off: a bridge is under construction. Good thing some Afghan workers give me a hand to go across.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0137_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0137_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9006_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9006_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Stay focused. And don't look down!</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9009_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9009_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 405px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Wait, I'm coming</span><span style="font-style: italic;">!</span><br />
<br />
</div><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0149_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0149_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0142_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0142_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9015_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB9015_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 274px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 411px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">To jump or not to jump, that is the question...<br />
</span></div><br />
Everywhere we stop, it seems like we are the attraction of the day, especially near schools. People always love trying the tricycle.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8982_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8982_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0120_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/5/DSC_0120_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 269px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4468_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Celine/_DSC4468_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 270px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I told you it was super comfortable !</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">In the evening, if there is no guesthouse in the village, people invite us to stay in their homes. This sometimes gives us the opportunity to try out new food like this wonderful "afghan fondue"…<br />
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</div></div><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/6/DSC_0013_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/6/DSC_0013_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 263px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 402px;" /></a><br />
On the last day, we rush as fast as we can (which is not very fast…) to get across the border in time. Everyone is longing for a shower and a good beer. At 4.15pm, 500m from the border, a car stops. It is the bloke from the passport control: “Border close 4 o’clock. Come back tomorrow”. Bad luck ! We have to climb the rocky road all the way back to the guesthouse, and wait yet another day for the well-deserved beer…Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-81351236905916117712010-08-05T07:26:00.000-07:002011-02-04T14:19:59.114-08:00Nan, kefir and choy – a trekking adventure in the Afghan Pamirs<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ejkRNrs_iU3yzajnEw6rpGJv7RSFFDoGAMzAbeTUnOgFEYZRLVpvXbXXZHdY5AGj6lZH2VQZMp6LHDQE7q8ZFgX0rf53zfHmJ2lW2WyWf96Rkhcp90fcXVFvSGTjiXHRDzd_jlZqU1M/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514157682753454050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ejkRNrs_iU3yzajnEw6rpGJv7RSFFDoGAMzAbeTUnOgFEYZRLVpvXbXXZHdY5AGj6lZH2VQZMp6LHDQE7q8ZFgX0rf53zfHmJ2lW2WyWf96Rkhcp90fcXVFvSGTjiXHRDzd_jlZqU1M/s320/DSC_0014.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 198px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 273px;" /></a>Tonight in the tent, I'm reflecting on the awesome moments I've just lived in the past few days. It's hard to find words to describe my emotions.<br />
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We've been trekking for two days. The scenery is breathtaking. Walking is a bit tricky in places, especially when crossing rivers, but fortunately, the biys are always here to give us a hand.</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8618_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8618_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8844_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8844_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8846_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8846_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 275px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Duct-tape plaster on a blister </span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXILZM2SEpK7GAmits54vvaX2WClmrl2O7U3jCxzgYSb5_zQ2UEgL5H68nNDt_QMOud2O7DDfgeJog8CUWDkaiA4YWv0_qkNAnU8C4Q65LjhtDPc8hyphenhyphenbRGZY0rfPvqKkwBhKSpLOO-o4/s1600/DSC_0113_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514126118106272034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXILZM2SEpK7GAmits54vvaX2WClmrl2O7U3jCxzgYSb5_zQ2UEgL5H68nNDt_QMOud2O7DDfgeJog8CUWDkaiA4YWv0_qkNAnU8C4Q65LjhtDPc8hyphenhyphenbRGZY0rfPvqKkwBhKSpLOO-o4/s320/DSC_0113_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 208px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a>The old Russian map - our only guide to find our route - shows some pastures. We see smoke in the distance, then a few herders' huts, 3-4 yurts, some yaks, goats and horses. It is a wakhi mountain pasture village. I get closer, a young child starts crying and runs to hide. I didn't know I was that scary! Note for a future trip: bring comb and mirror... We are invited to share 2 big bowls of kefir (some sort of goat yugurt), some salt yak butter tea (a foretaste of Tibet) and nan (rond bread similar to that found in India and in the rest of Central Asia). We offer some biscuits. It's the beginning of a long photo session. It's funny, but everywhere since we arrived in Afghanistan, people have asked us to take photos of them. They seem to love it. They also take photos of us whith their mobile phones when they have one.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8631_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8631_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tea break</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8747_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8747_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8747_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span id="formatbar_Buttons" style="display: block;"><span class="on down" id="formatbar_JustifyCenter" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 11);ButtonMouseDown(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseup="" style="display: block;" title="Au centre"><img alt="Au centre" border="0" class="gl_align_center" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" /></span></span></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Choy and nan in a herder's yurt</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">These encounters are so far from the traditionnal images of Afghanistan we get in Western media! Even if the conversations are limited to the few tajik words we've learnt (both languages - tajik and farsi/dari - are similar, and Ricky with his tajik phrasebook has become our official translator), we learn a bit more about the lifestyle in the area which seems fairly similar to what I've seen in Ladakh or Tibet.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0048_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0048_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFik3WbEa_6z6gSCStJcASxxa0KedyK0ofV8Suzls5snmZFrsHZ7VS3UZ_4PLCczy_5b8zfMz_AYMFHS7h-nyae9AT_2WXsTXofGbEb6i4U7XoDybGNgtM3sgi2cTjIxZdfMvck2b1ujk/s1600/DSC_0115_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512669420383212866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFik3WbEa_6z6gSCStJcASxxa0KedyK0ofV8Suzls5snmZFrsHZ7VS3UZ_4PLCczy_5b8zfMz_AYMFHS7h-nyae9AT_2WXsTXofGbEb6i4U7XoDybGNgtM3sgi2cTjIxZdfMvck2b1ujk/s400/DSC_0115_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-1_xQUzacNin5ulobflJrvJ6lniDXrFEpqgCt_YKn6Ld6a1KciJOfyPVyX2_LWw0BMyEjr8eAjju8tpI9VSisI0Cy5fcGu5JwahG4JuSfuJqSu9MMJrhibWEE7_nP8rE1F67Ew2Fdgc/s1600/DSC_0141.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514134042523160722" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-1_xQUzacNin5ulobflJrvJ6lniDXrFEpqgCt_YKn6Ld6a1KciJOfyPVyX2_LWw0BMyEjr8eAjju8tpI9VSisI0Cy5fcGu5JwahG4JuSfuJqSu9MMJrhibWEE7_nP8rE1F67Ew2Fdgc/s400/DSC_0141.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 258px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8634_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8634_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8765_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/Pierre/_PPB8765_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6j91iIDOTUSYWHAzdqccb3HM7C7HKw0OEw_swGalCLz9NFYsW5KiweS5R25P3gC3zAY0iYXpfL37GmTVC3N5WS7drUGYwoutdM45z8C_b_OysAysFRSIYYnlhx0vMhW35EZgYJor6Gew/s1600/DSC_0177_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514128964357087474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6j91iIDOTUSYWHAzdqccb3HM7C7HKw0OEw_swGalCLz9NFYsW5KiweS5R25P3gC3zAY0iYXpfL37GmTVC3N5WS7drUGYwoutdM45z8C_b_OysAysFRSIYYnlhx0vMhW35EZgYJor6Gew/s400/DSC_0177_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 266px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Yak caravan</span></div><br />
The scenery is absolutely stunning. We climb up the last pass in snow. From there, the views on the Hindu Kush are beautiful. Pakistan is just a few kms away as the crow flies, a few days' walk via Broghil Pass. But the area is off-limits for foreigners.<br />
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<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0149_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0149_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 336px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0147_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0147_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 253px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0140_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0140_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 274px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0135_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0135_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0116_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0116_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 270px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hungry mosquitoes as we climb the last pass</span></div><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0122_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0122_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHoJm9KrirldSdP2hafJHR9r7zAAP2oibYv12FkJmW4zrhFTUBrrauwJpXscixi3U_5pyr4jCk1Q1iWbW3GBaQk0l3uwqozifkAnFsSgNzTrb0GeZagoH_sJ8_n1o2eYzauoHsO-9VmDU/s1600/_PPB8811_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514128972463664370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHoJm9KrirldSdP2hafJHR9r7zAAP2oibYv12FkJmW4zrhFTUBrrauwJpXscixi3U_5pyr4jCk1Q1iWbW3GBaQk0l3uwqozifkAnFsSgNzTrb0GeZagoH_sJ8_n1o2eYzauoHsO-9VmDU/s400/_PPB8811_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 268px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">4790m, almost the altitude of Mont Blanc !</span></div><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0089_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0089_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0010_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0010_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 267px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I really felt like living a unique experience. Considering the circuitous formalities, the complicated access and the political situation of the region, I don't think tourism is about to thrive in the coming years.</div><br />
A few portraits of people we met:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/2/DSC_0091_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/2/DSC_0091_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 265px;" /></a><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodZAuw68BwSbLsbwROOhkKFSnxKUFuivW8SybeK76FCVbKXUTjw2Z6JpIoT24FtEDQB-0aBgY0kYqe4uUZedEFXYB6oy9TxwuUFs1FjgDx5WxOGwilyWh2GDEqvE5Fgtl2mfw7kBe4RQ/s1600/DSC_0042_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512666763773711298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodZAuw68BwSbLsbwROOhkKFSnxKUFuivW8SybeK76FCVbKXUTjw2Z6JpIoT24FtEDQB-0aBgY0kYqe4uUZedEFXYB6oy9TxwuUFs1FjgDx5WxOGwilyWh2GDEqvE5Fgtl2mfw7kBe4RQ/s400/DSC_0042_GF.jpg" sytle="cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 400px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0030_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0030_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 401px; width: 262px;" /></a> <span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span> <a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0055_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0055_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 264px;" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/3/DSC_0130_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/3/DSC_0130_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 267px;" /></a></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_8xtog-mqAUmibePaWHl9hLjQiS13yXmdbkuDkjGDy9iu2yET4caaSEnoMrCojCjJzF0zHb9-Q_bQcZmlnHtrhJmy4Eem3iQb3cwZCXxoMRooGvNYlBfAJdBEJGFN-G2su2PRKgZYOE/s1600/DSC_0035_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512669403941545394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_8xtog-mqAUmibePaWHl9hLjQiS13yXmdbkuDkjGDy9iu2yET4caaSEnoMrCojCjJzF0zHb9-Q_bQcZmlnHtrhJmy4Eem3iQb3cwZCXxoMRooGvNYlBfAJdBEJGFN-G2su2PRKgZYOE/s400/DSC_0035_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0053_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/4/DSC_0053_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /></a><a href="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/2/DSC_0110a_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.transhimalaya.fr/blog/photo/afghanistan/2/DSC_0110a_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 284px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Here is also Pierre's photo album: <a href="http://ppb.perso.sfr.fr/Voyage/02%20Rando%20Wakhan%20afghan/index.html">http://ppb.perso.sfr.fr/Voyage/index.html</a>,<br />
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and Ricky's journal: <a href="http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/?o=RrzKj&doc_id=7333&v=5i">Around Tajikistan in 60 days</a>Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-26741060465770747712010-08-01T06:51:00.000-07:002011-02-04T14:18:57.673-08:00Salam Afghanistan<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
Updating the blog on the way is a real challenge, even bigger than actually crossing borders. What’s more, my small laptop seems to have given up the ghost for good. So I hope you will excuse the short articles. The number of photos will depend on the ability of the Chinese authorities to actually block the net here in Kashgar (this is where I’m doing all the updates from the past month, we didn’t have any other internet access so far).<br />
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Following the border with Afghanistan for so many days, seeing the colourful tiny small villages bustling with activity on the other side of the Panj river, I felt I really wanted to travel to that other side.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZHn4wE7duwWTMhr9iL5EvRA7QTOcF3AL2UdBkyJ7aaTijCrOeKU3yIaE_SooDWXeZN9RB94GRtN81N2WZKB6seHTHy2T80w-_JPZNxU72oQJe67eHj9NdH_ExbjHXT7QpiICT4TQi28/s1600/Wakhan.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512291338103132610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZHn4wE7duwWTMhr9iL5EvRA7QTOcF3AL2UdBkyJ7aaTijCrOeKU3yIaE_SooDWXeZN9RB94GRtN81N2WZKB6seHTHy2T80w-_JPZNxU72oQJe67eHj9NdH_ExbjHXT7QpiICT4TQi28/s400/Wakhan.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 196px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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The visa was easily obtained in Khorog. The lady at the consulate was really nice and even offered us tea while we were waiting. Crossing the border from Tajikistan at Ishkashim was just as easy : our panniers were vaguely searched and our passports quickly stamped by the friendly officials. A few hundred meters after the border, some bloke tried to get money from us by asking for a bicycle permit, which we knew wasn’t needed. Ricky got the brilliant idea to show him the visa receipt the embassy gave us. That worked.<br />
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The formalities to travel further on once in Afghanistan proved a bit more complicated. They included meeting a few local officials, getting a letter of invitation signed by the warlord of the area who happens to be the chief of the army and probably the leader of the opium trade in the region, and paying 50$ per person to a go-between for the permit.<br />
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All this left plenty of time to wander around the small town of Ishkashim, which was a very interesting experience.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimi7dQg7sWitKYYwjMFDzpxGKYbe2kCsSHYbyQ0Kxxg0L1OMw-ToSwJYHFJEXb9F2sDbDvaskt1S03TP0hBDm1TnuKAutyeoPRlwkoOUEO3oY9agtSj3U7xsF5QoyCY37zwRiPqWcx6Ek/s1600/_DSC3625_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512208512940490706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimi7dQg7sWitKYYwjMFDzpxGKYbe2kCsSHYbyQ0Kxxg0L1OMw-ToSwJYHFJEXb9F2sDbDvaskt1S03TP0hBDm1TnuKAutyeoPRlwkoOUEO3oY9agtSj3U7xsF5QoyCY37zwRiPqWcx6Ek/s400/_DSC3625_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqtpSc8Re9Z2mNlsOlONUTKZsVFKeXK6WysPKQventAqhscBguVQvZwrzdV-VWBN_9wzw4L-nYeMY6LHordvabbFLIvrKus0T7yQdjOC7GQNz0bEZvo3YrnyxU5Qx1KXiMSbSnwoV9rU/s1600/_DSC3608_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512204043599205954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqtpSc8Re9Z2mNlsOlONUTKZsVFKeXK6WysPKQventAqhscBguVQvZwrzdV-VWBN_9wzw4L-nYeMY6LHordvabbFLIvrKus0T7yQdjOC7GQNz0bEZvo3YrnyxU5Qx1KXiMSbSnwoV9rU/s400/_DSC3608_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 284px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGQ0M0a9cbOJZF7PujKniqhMcksoJUhtPQR9-oi1aAL-2YpsGdPOcgWvB6j4MJHWI4lyJIRh3f0ZH2l3ViPDycwXzvOgm4bfnd31qe0IBYBoPtNKgohz8cwR-eA_ZbrsondwvDCJ1HRc/s1600/_DSC3612.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512208540692995458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGQ0M0a9cbOJZF7PujKniqhMcksoJUhtPQR9-oi1aAL-2YpsGdPOcgWvB6j4MJHWI4lyJIRh3f0ZH2l3ViPDycwXzvOgm4bfnd31qe0IBYBoPtNKgohz8cwR-eA_ZbrsondwvDCJ1HRc/s400/_DSC3612.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 274px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNf30u7hIUjbsNUAj3Vt9hpJiSzZ7Qon9EWsOijAeeWkp85dno2i-WXQdcBZ4r1KDo_RTNXaGNT-1uANdBaGYKrRr3o-SfrJQoNIOWCh_BG8XIeZPvBmsudQcl96AZLZeatgE8pWVO6w/s1600/_DSC3638_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512206494852374962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNf30u7hIUjbsNUAj3Vt9hpJiSzZ7Qon9EWsOijAeeWkp85dno2i-WXQdcBZ4r1KDo_RTNXaGNT-1uANdBaGYKrRr3o-SfrJQoNIOWCh_BG8XIeZPvBmsudQcl96AZLZeatgE8pWVO6w/s400/_DSC3638_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 245px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJS4_hB2pm7wkscUD8PSV2938Ec3hUgnVh1KLfcS-MMsReRgBw0jD30rHzQuC_KSJFfxPiqpTMH6mh6A30fpRNxwG5gu89xd12dvIBbKXM9EdxGOehCc7Q-4wYWMFUrGhg-yBZd6tnm8/s1600/_DSC3660_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512206506565189874" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJS4_hB2pm7wkscUD8PSV2938Ec3hUgnVh1KLfcS-MMsReRgBw0jD30rHzQuC_KSJFfxPiqpTMH6mh6A30fpRNxwG5gu89xd12dvIBbKXM9EdxGOehCc7Q-4wYWMFUrGhg-yBZd6tnm8/s400/_DSC3660_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 260px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div>Paradoxically, the bazar has more supplies than that of the neighbouring tajik Ishkashim : honey from Iran, biscuits and sodas from Pakistan, fruits from the valley, colourful fabrics and clothes....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1kJV7kfPVw-NOVD7wbD7kWYpABU0xN8-4qUbHcSBfkt8r-Q0YsNQzg0fXU4hJZTsFUMet3Sh_sWGi0hpPKmb_lLuh8htqTaf6ZJSs49nUmlspgbmdQBtZ7xQv2hsd6aYOz-cYPejFdOo/s1600/_DSC3610_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512204051403305202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1kJV7kfPVw-NOVD7wbD7kWYpABU0xN8-4qUbHcSBfkt8r-Q0YsNQzg0fXU4hJZTsFUMet3Sh_sWGi0hpPKmb_lLuh8htqTaf6ZJSs49nUmlspgbmdQBtZ7xQv2hsd6aYOz-cYPejFdOo/s400/_DSC3610_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybwqNCG55muObl6JCnbkVcRWrajFzbPBySQqVY-pJ2ZyEEk2i0xgEm3BkFDq63Nsvg4ohlv-oryiwOLY5A8aXCXeKVgIQ4EH_oZ22Ocx4HV5nKT5PtQBVKPe73J4ZffEwY05pSea81_8/s1600/_DSC3626_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512206481996378786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybwqNCG55muObl6JCnbkVcRWrajFzbPBySQqVY-pJ2ZyEEk2i0xgEm3BkFDq63Nsvg4ohlv-oryiwOLY5A8aXCXeKVgIQ4EH_oZ22Ocx4HV5nKT5PtQBVKPe73J4ZffEwY05pSea81_8/s400/_DSC3626_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhf-dF7nU6u0tIr_Ek91DDe5Yr7DfTWg936S5B4DSYyP36-OQrSAOCy-M7Dw7EBZ66RqwuKuA6VwUzdkzUlxRfByv8NlDlt49yPrM_jL8CVEvxf8sxjhjH4IUYio5mY3P4DVP4TiPUiqw/s1600/_DSC3634_GF.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512206487658395554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhf-dF7nU6u0tIr_Ek91DDe5Yr7DfTWg936S5B4DSYyP36-OQrSAOCy-M7Dw7EBZ66RqwuKuA6VwUzdkzUlxRfByv8NlDlt49yPrM_jL8CVEvxf8sxjhjH4IUYio5mY3P4DVP4TiPUiqw/s400/_DSC3634_GF.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781129575665168028.post-39185707759761148052010-07-26T23:12:00.000-07:002011-02-05T03:27:30.636-08:00First stage, first pedal stroke, first pass, first encounters<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">.</span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Setting off from Dushambe in the intense heat of the low plains of Central Asia. Can’t do any cycling between 11am and 4pm. Add to this the lack of training, some rough roads, a few landslides, a 3250m pass, numerous stops to admire the scenery or take photos, and bowels that have decided to take some liberties, the first few stages were rather short : 12 days to reach Khorog some 550km away... If I keep that rhythm, 6 months won’t be enough to cover the planned distance, I’ll need at least 12!<br /></div><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />I am riding in great company : <br />Pierre (travelled with him last summer), Celine (friendly French Canadian girl who’s on a similar itinerary : <url>http://freewheelinghimalaya.blogspot.com)</url> and Ricky (friendly bloke from New Zealand crazyguyonabike). Sage who started with us is now going her own way towards Kyrgyzstan.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNwU3tIQQKc0KN6XKHpOUFHFKuQ8MnzvC6iWu4Cif83-_it1YmgHd5TvQ8mLqDsxBRunBI-MBdTO_cY2KRARD1RSqrQJNq7IBHwC1PasfyAJvMLAW4q2zh9XWeu-YBU3m0vLqvOxaZVE/s1600/DSC_0695.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNwU3tIQQKc0KN6XKHpOUFHFKuQ8MnzvC6iWu4Cif83-_it1YmgHd5TvQ8mLqDsxBRunBI-MBdTO_cY2KRARD1RSqrQJNq7IBHwC1PasfyAJvMLAW4q2zh9XWeu-YBU3m0vLqvOxaZVE/s320/DSC_0695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498218147837444578" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Except for an unfortunate encounter with a dodgey policeman who tries but fails to get any money from me in the small town of Faizabad, I find most Tajiks are lovely. Always smiling and helpful. People invite us to share a watermelon or chat around a cup of tea. Kids offer us apricots, cherries or berries. The language barrier can be a bit frustrating, but smiles and gestures do the job. We could easily spend the whole day drinking tea and chatting, but we’re already quite slow as we are...<br /><br />In the evening, if there is no hotel, there’s always a family inviting us to spend the night and share a meal. It’s the first cycling trip in which I’ve got such a sense of hospitality. Our relationships with people don’t seem to be based on money, this is so different from other more touristy countries. It’s so pleasant.<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4S-OH8s4gP0lusReFlDO457NZWmaQ6iD3Lmnmz1QEKHCC0A11eSf-Uaya41za-lfE9U0XmCkmRNTPlXAvYy1cqoneLmNSLALHcFVhZuJffVwzNCR0XCYcXmMpax0hD3vWA2ef3ZR28r8/s1600/DSC_0762.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4S-OH8s4gP0lusReFlDO457NZWmaQ6iD3Lmnmz1QEKHCC0A11eSf-Uaya41za-lfE9U0XmCkmRNTPlXAvYy1cqoneLmNSLALHcFVhZuJffVwzNCR0XCYcXmMpax0hD3vWA2ef3ZR28r8/s400/DSC_0762.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498221712282032610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The landscapes outside Dushanbe aren’t spectacular, but we quickly reach beautiful gorges. The climb to the first pass reminds me of the passes in the Alps with pastures and some snow-covered peaks in the background. As the road is blocked because of a broken bridge, there’s very little traffic. Fortunately, there’s (almost) no pb to cross it with the bikes, thanks to the local workers who give us a hand.<br /></div><br /><br />Photos<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Then we reach the Pjang river marking the border with Afghanistan which we’re going to follow for 250km. Some tarmac at last! A few tank wrecks can be seen by the side of the road, reminders of the past wars. <br /></div><br /><br />Photo<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The Afghan side is dotted with small villages. All this seems a bit strange. We are on a real road, in a country which is of course less developed than back home but where people have access to water, electricity, mobile phones and some sort of comfort. Just on the opposite side, a few dozens meters away, are entirely isolated villages with no proper roads linking them to the rest of Afghanistan, adobe houses. People walk or ride donkeys from one village to the next, waving at us, even sometimes inviting us for a chai. How the hell do they want us to swim across?!? It’s both very close and very far. On the Tajik side lie what must have been trenches during the war with small towers overlooking the river. The army is still very much present. I wonder how the conflict could possibly spread all the way here. The Afghan villages are cut from the rest of the country by high mountains. On the river banks, a tiny mountainside path sometimes fades away in rockslides.<br /></div><br /><br />Photos<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />We eventually reach the small border town of Khorog. At an altitude of 2000m, it is cooler. I’m taking a couple of rest day in a comfortable guesthouse. Shower, bike maintenance, internet. Back on the saddle (so to speak) tomorrow, going to Ishkashim, visa in hand to go trekking and cycling for a couple of weeks in the Afghan Wakhan. Then back to Tajikistan, heading towards the Pamirs and Southern Kyrgyzstan, only route to China open to foreigners. No internet before reaching Kashgar in China, probably late August. No news till then.<br /></div>Nanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931220686581423541noreply@blogger.com0