Exiting China and Tash Rabat

Dear all,

After leaving Kashgar, the westmost city of China, we headed north to the nearby Chinese border post. We were headed for Torugat pass beyond where Kygyzstan began but between the Chinese border post and that line there was a hundred miles of No Man's Land. Here there were a few farmers and abandoned villages previously occupied by people resettled to less contentious areas. The Chinese preferred to limit the movements of peoples through borderlands so that no one might slip through unheeded. Some Uighur are not keen on remaining in Xinjiang.

The first Chinese border was deserted apart from well dressed guards and a pair of Canadian touring cyclists. We passed through without issue, Matt paid his speeding fines and the guards conducted a little PR exercise, photographing themselves loading our bags onto the truck.

After the first border post there was nothing to see and no noodle truck stops so we executed a "rolling lunch" of tuna and cheese bagels (they don't call them bagels but they look like bagels). After lunch the road became steeper and bumpier, a brisk breeze came down from the barren mountain tops. We waited for the final border.

We never managed to escape China in China. I had read about the diversity of cultures and religions and we found them, but the State was ever present, a fog of insignia and uniformity created in the name of unity and Motherland. The past was preserved but it was static, not evolving - there were Buddhists and Taoists throughout China but they were tolerated, begrudgingly accepted, not encouraged. Only Islam seemed active, a force of sorts. In certain towns it could be seen and heard everywhere, in caps, headscarves, calls to prayer, teetotalism and "local time". This force was diminishing, though, and not as an accident of history - every town had its expanding "Chinese quarter", a designed resettlement of people to dilute those who did not pledge allegiance to China in their hearts (every child must in their assemblies).

This was why I longed to see no fences. Rules, property, industry, highways, plans for economic growth and prosperity all spoke to me of the expansive and hidden Government offices of Beijing. Their influence reached deep into the inhospitable expanse of the desert. As in Britain, there was no wilderness left.

I looked forward to Kyrgyzstan. I inwardly exalted when I saw the first Russian language signs at the border. They reminded me of a previous trip I'd taken to Finland, Russia and Estonia in 2004. That was the only time I've travelled alone in Europe - I married soon after. But despite the intervening nine years  my goals and aspirations in travel hadn't changed and that made me happy. When I was eighteen, I asked my Dad and his university friend Dennis whether they felt like different people to how they felt now in their middle age. They said no, they were just the same, with more experience and knowledge but in no sense different people, not transformed or wise.

It's good to be able to count on one's temperament. Even if one made mistakes before, what was good in the past will be good now and what was desired then is still desired now and remains valuable and worthwhile. For me now and then this would be Bach, solitude, the company of good friends, no fences, with grass and possibility stretching as far as the eye can see.

The Krygyz at the border were gruff and approachable, though all we did was hand them our passports. We played on the truck weigher while our new guide Sayed, a courteous, well spoken and considerate young man went through the paperwork.

On the other side the road almost disappeared and the mountains opened up into a plateau. On this side the Tian Shian mountain range there were clouds in the sky and the slopes were covered in grass. We were three thousand five hundred metres high, herds of horses and yaks roamed freely. Occasionally we would spot a yurt but otherwise there was no human settlement.

It was beautiful but it was not a place one could live. Sayed informed us that the herders would only come to the plateau in the summer. In the winter the temperature dropped to minus forty Celsius, snows covered the plains and there was nothing here for any tourist, farmer or beast. Still, it was good to see that there are still such places on Earth.

The plateau ended and we entered a valley. This would take us to our yurts and Tash Rabat.

We passed a few yurt camps as the valley and the road grew narrower. At one camp we bumped to a halt, we woke up and gazed around surveying our next home for a night. There were yurts, a house, a stream and a peculiar looking round building of rough stone. Dogs, horses and cows ambled nearby. The sun was still up but was about to dip below the ridge. We dumped our bags in our two yurts and looked about us. We were cold up here. I donned my greatest number of layers yet (tshirt, shirt, fleece, waterproof) in preparation for another high altitude night. Prepared for most eventualities, I was annoyed at myself at having let a mere lack of clothing affect my enjoyment of the trip's escapes from developed territories.

Matt and I decided to hike up a nearby peak that was not too near and not too far while there was still light in the sky. We waited for Tom, Dan and Lucy and Tim to join us. We then ascended at varying paces with two of our neighbour's dogs who seemed to enjoy our company. They galloped ahead of us, play fighting and rolling about. Personally feeling very winded by the high altitude ascent I was impressed by their speed and enthusiasm.

It was hard going but soon our truck and yurts became very small and the surrounding mountains dominated our view.

The climb was quicker than I feared it would take. We sat down with the dogs to enjoy the views.

On our return the group was standing round in a circle, arms wrapped against the cold, chatting and waiting for dinner. Amy was wearing a beautiful rabbit fur hat acquired in Kashgar of which we were all quite envious. I joined them for a little while then got bored and wandered off to follow the stream. The dogs joined me.

I forded the stream easily enough and walked up a low ridge, the dogs still playing and occasionally pausing for a scratch. I could see the circle in the middle distance and could hear snatches of laughter float up on the wind. They were watching me; someone flashed their torch at me. I concluded it was dinner time and made my way back. Unfortunately the stream was a tad wider at the point opposite the dining hut and could not be forded. Matt came out with a torch and found a spot where it was narrow enough to jump.

Inside the room was toasty from the stove and to our surprise and delight the low table was loaded with breads, pastries, soup with dill, many jams, mixed peppers, little deep fried aubergine and cheese (cheese!) slices, potato salad and sweets. Sayed informed us that Kyrgyz do not have courses or even many ways to distinguish breakfast from dinner, they just lay whatever is available out at every meal and each may eat as they like. We were pleased to be introduced to these new eating concepts.

I started by dipping fried bread in jam. We passed round and compared the flavours. The wild strawberry was excellent, but so were the raspberry, apricot and blackcurrant. Sayed suggested we put some in our tea. It worked incredibly well. Again, strawberry worked best.

We lingered after the meal, reluctant to leave the warmth and food for our yurts. However the stoves in our yurts had also been lit and I fell asleep quite comfortably between yurt bed (like a normal bed but in a yurt) and blankets, having diligently executed thorough movements in the outhouse to save unwanted interruptions to warm sleep.

As it happened I was not interrupted by my bowel but again by the cold, the stove having gone out in the small hours. I quietly unzipped my sleeping bag amidst a miniature lightning storm of static and attempted to lay it over my blanket. It worked at times when it hadn't slipped off onto the floor. My nighttime strategies still needed work.

We were all keen to come out into the sun as soon as it rose.

I began with four layers but within the hour was down to two. Sayed had volunteered to show us round Tash Rabat, the strange round building of stones, the Caravanserai. A Caravanserai is a place where traders stopped to rest and exchange goods but Sayed disagreed that this was the purpose of the building. It was built in the 15th century, he said, after Silk Road traffic had substantially diminished thanks to Mongols and ships. It was also overbuilt, with many rooms, walls like a fortress, a prison, and what appeared to be an altar in the middle of the central room. It could have been a Mosque or a Nestorian temple, but why would a place of worship have a prison? Nobody knows.

Stephen