February 1, 2016
Ferry from Taiwan: Jelung to Xiamen
a slow boat to China
Twelve hours is a long time to lie in a bunk. It was the call of nature that finally got me up. With the forecast for a stormy crossing and me being no sailor, I’d imagined having to make regular, nausea-induced visits to the bathroom during the night, but the hours pass uneventfully, with me prostrate, drifting in and out of sleep. The previous day’s stress must have whacked me out.
Sunday had started with a visit to the local car wash - something I’d forgotten was a weekend ritual for many. The place was packed, but, unsurprisingly, Debbie and I were the only ones washing bikes. Ours were both in need of a serious de-gunking, especially the chains, which hadn’t been touched for a couple of years. It was a chore I’d put off, and with just a couple for hours to spare before we caught a train north to the ferry terminal, it was literally a last-minute thing. By the time we’d done, there was a fair bit of oily crud on our bay’s wet, concrete floor, and we’d both worked up a sweat
It was hard to believe that the previous weekend had been freezing. Fifty people were said to have died in Taiwan due to bad weather. Snow had fallen in places that had never seen it. The thing is, unlike North America and Europe, homes here don’t have proper heating. We have a 600-Watt oil-filled radiator, but you need to sit on it to feel any benefit. Literally: I sometimes straddle the thing to toast my bollocks.
Loaded up, the bike felt like a Sherman tank, but the city center is just a 15-minute ride from home and I rode it very steady.
In Taiwan, you usually have to book a bike on a specific train and Debbie had done that, reserving a place on one that’d get us to the ferry port an hour before needed. It was just as well we went to the station early, as there were serious delays and people were cramming into already full compartments. Luckily, we managed to get the bike on a commuter train, but it then just stood in the station for 20 minutes before doing the same at the first stop, just a few kilometers down the track. The bottom line was if I missed the ferry, there wasn’t another for three whole weeks. It wasn’t looking good.
Debbie made a call to her brother. Thankfully he came to the rescue. After well over an hour of getting on the train, we were off it and stuffing my panniers and unwieldy bike in the back of his Volvo.
The blue skies we’d enjoyed earlier suddenly disappeared on the drive to the port and it was all grim and grey when we pulled up at the terminal, with 20 minutes to spare. Inside we chatted to three Chinese cyclists who’d just toured Taiwan and we heading home. They’d had crap weather, but seemed to have enjoyed it and commented on how the island’s car drivers followed the law, like stopping at red lights. One of the women, riding a Dahon folder with a large plastic bundle strapped to the back took snaps of my just-washed Thorn. It was her dream bike, she said.
Cosco isn’t Cunard. The former offers inexpensive trips between the Taiwanese port of Jelung and the Chinese island of Xiamen, and around 100 of the roughly 250 passengers were noisy, male labourers. They had large loads to carry, seemingly around their own body weight, and these they hooked to the ends of sturdy bamboo yokes which they balanced across one shoulder, walking quickly along in a certain way so as to take steps in time with the upward bounce of the weight. It’s not something you see in here. You might think the two countries would be culturally identical, but almost 70 years of separation has thrown up two different kettles of fish.
They’re separated by around 180 km of sea known as the Taiwan Strait, yet the small Taiwanese-controlled island of Kinmen sits just a couple of kilometers off Fujian’s coast. That stretch of water has seen a lot of artillery fly back and forth during what are known as the Taiwan Strait Crises.
It was grey and rainy at 6:00 AM. The small island of Kinmen was hidden somewhere behind a thick veil of drizzle and cloud. After a dozen hours of sharing a 6-bunk cabin with one 40-something man, I finally found out he was Taiwanese and could speak some English. He kindly offered me a carton coffee and we shared the chunk slices of bread he’d packed for the trip. It was a nice way to start the day. I hadn’t been vomiting, but the ship’s free breakfast of noodles didn’t appeal.
Although we docked right on time at 8, nobody got to disembark until gone 9. After getting through customs, I wheeled my bike out into the rain and headed for the offices of China Mobile. First up was getting a SIM card to get my dongle working. If that was in action, I reckoned my mojo would follow suit.
Nobody had seen a dongle before. The staff at China Mobile directed me to a large computer store nearby, where the young assistants looked just as confused. After trying different people’s SIM cards and getting nowhere, I gave up. It’d just be a matter of finding wi-fi- access at hotels etc.
Starbucks was right next door, so I consoled my soggy self with a hot frothy one and a bite to eat, and perked up a bit more when the waitress told me the bus station marked on my map was right across the road.
Web sites say there are around 7 departures a day to Hukeng, a few hours northwest of Xiamen, but the ticket seller said there was only one at 6.30 AM, and although it would have made sense to ask around, I just couldn’t be bothered. I handed over 63rmb (about US$10), got told the bike was free, and went in search of a hotel, with the rain coming down heavier then ever.
Thankfully the nearest hotel was a reasonable US$30. My bike got stored inside; wifi worked; the VPN from provider Astrill kicked in; it was clean.
The tour really starts tomorrow.
Today's ride: 10 km (6 miles)
Total: 10 km (6 miles)
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