February 14, 2016
Chenkouzhen on the G106
up and down in coolness on route X336
My hosts offers me the communal noodles from a large enameled bowl and a few other dishes that are set out on a large round table in their chaotic warehouse-type building at the back of the supermarket, but I can’t face them again.
You may not know what mantou are: they’re small, Chinese steamed buns, usually eaten at breakfast, and after enquiring about them, a packet of frozen ones are located in the shop’s freezer. They are obviously rock solid, but within 10 minutes the whole dozen are placed on the table, piping hot. Three do me. It's now time to hit the road.
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The morning turns out to be a mixed bag of scenic cycling, steep hills, chilliness, quiet lanes, wrong turns and help from strangers.
First, the chilliness: my summer shirt and shorts are clearly inappropriate once I step out of the supermarket's front doors with my bike at around 10 o’clock, but it's too much bother to change now. After a balmy week or so, single digit temperatures are back. My breath vaporizes in front of my face as my legs push down on the pedals on what turns out to be the first of the day’s countless granny-gear climbs. This one lasts 7km. But at least it warms me up a bit.
The help of strangers comes in at a collection of houses near a junction, where I stop and asked about directions. It all gets a bit confusing, with a group of five young guys trying to translate what a women is telling me. It is left here and left there and so on and so on. The upshot is I ride too far. It's only when I've stopped to catch my breath on a knee-aching ascent that the guys catch up with me on their motorbikes to say I’ve gone the wrong way: otherwise it’s anybody’s guess where I would have ended up.
After speeding back down and climbing another hill, a pickup comes towards me. It seems prudent to double check, so I flag him to stop. The driver looks at my map and gestures back again, telling me to sling my bike in the pickup: Magic.
After some 30 minutes, we are back at the woman’s place and heading towards where the guys had caught up with me. However, the driver stops and points down a narrow lane, telling me to bear right at the nearby homes. The route looks like someone’s concrete drive. Is this really going to get me to Chiangjiangzhen, around 30km away?
More assistance comes from a fast-talking guy named Felix, who just so happens to be home from his travel agency job and knows these lanes like the back of his hand, and whose English skills are impeccable. He points me in the right direction and adds there's a mountain to climb. And that’s where the steep hills really start.
It's getting on for noon when my wheels roll past the first concrete road tablet to appear all morning – a marker for route X336 – at the bottom of the hill, and the top comes near the 5km one. It's now about 12.30. I'm in my lowest gear all that while, but as Felix said, there's a long drop to Chiangjiangzhen, and for over 10km it's a wonderful ride involving tight corners, freezing knees, dodging potholes and somehow taking in the vista.
Like yesterday, it's clear the area is given over to growing bamboo, which will end up being used for construction, chairs and chopsticks. The chunkiest is easily 120mm in diameter. The only vehicles that pass me are a tractor-like things which transport the stuff, and there are only a few of them. The X336 turns out to be a great cycling path.
On the far western edge of Chiangjiangzhen, I pause to try and find a bite to eat and go into a little shop that clearly doubles as a meeting place for a handful of elderly local women. They are sat around on low stools, with a flat-screen TV showing a Disney film which they are oblivious to. My bare knees get much more attention - it's a very chilly day, with the women well wrapped up. When hunch up my shorts and flash a bit of thigh to one of them, it's all giggles and laughter. Sometimes communication isn’t simply spoken.
There isn’t much on offer, but I see a bowl of tiny oranges and help myself to six. The owner won’t accept any money. And there's more generosity in Chiangjiangzhen itself, after I stop at a shop to see what they have to offer. The shopkeeper also insists on giving me the few bits in my hands. Maybe I look destitute.
A young woman who may be her daughter is just about to get a bus and return to her job 500 km away. She tells me in English that it's about 30km more to my goal of Chenkouzhen and as it's still only two in the afternoon, getting there doesn’t appear to be a problem.
But things are never that simple; certainly not on these small, mountain roads. My next wrong turn becomes apparent after cycling just a few hundred metres past the junction. Instinct kicks in and a shopkeeper pointed me back. Then once I’ve found the turning, a second shop keeper tells me to return to another small turning, with this one involving going back a couple of kilometers. It's all getting a bit frustrating, with the clock ticking and the clouds that have blanketed the sky all day starting to look ominous, and the temperature resumes to the see-your-breathe zone.
There's a long climb. It feels like uphill forever. Spinning away in a low gear when you want to press on is not what you want and it kind of rubs it in when motorbikes come towards you with their engines turned off to save fuel, as if to say: you know what, this is a long drop - and you’ve still got a long way to go to the top.
The descent is 10km and when I reach the main road, the G106, cutting through Chenkouzhen, a man I ask about hotels simply points to a building beside us. That's good enough for me. I need to thaw out.
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Today's ride: 55 km (34 miles)
Total: 782 km (486 miles)
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