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16.06.2007
Where the hell are they? I have been sitting in this hotel lobby for three hours. And I
am not a guest.. The lady at the reception is looking at me with a mixture of
amazement and suspicion - amazement because she rarely see any foreigners and
suspicion because foreigners are supposed to be at least a bit suspicious.
This little town lives around the oil industry. That gives it, its own particular feel.
A lot of people from all over China.
I decide to take a walk. Just waiting is boring – especially if you have nothing to
read. Or my stomach says it is time to get a fill up. Well, might just do that.
I walk to the nearest hawker stall. Everybody stares at me – a long nose here in
our little town? There is no hostility in their attitude – on the contrary.
Shanshan or Pichan in Uyghur arrives looks like any other town in this area –
nothing gives you even a hint that it has a fairly long history.
“ PITJAN / 3.10. 19007
Pitjan is surrounded by a three foot high curvy wall - this is where the Chinese
Emperors representative, the Shenguan resides, he is subordinated under the
Mandarin in Turfan. His job is to keep an eye on the local ordinary mortals and
also on the Wang of Lukatchun (Wang= Mongolian Prince – a title given by the
Chinese).
This prince has no power whatsoever anymore. Neither has he a judge’s authority
nor can he collect taxes- The Emperor gives him this high ranking title and an
annual amount of seed. He owns vast areas of land and that gives him, besides
his blue blood some prestige in the eyes of the faithfully. The Chinese do not care
about this at all – so when the She guan was not happy with him their poor Wang
was punished with flogging….”
Three hours later David and his companions did arrive. David is the one who is
responsible for all the practical arrangements, contacts with Chinese authorities
etc. He had been on a three-week trip in Tibet and was now on his way back to
Urumqi. He insisted on taking me to our camp. So he made this detour of a few
hundred kilometers. Unlucky for him and for me strong sand storm did cut of the
highway for hours. Here he was – with a positive attitude as always.
- Poor Tony, he has been waiting for six hours…”
Yeah, sure. But now we were finally on the way to our camp. Two hours of
driving in the dark we finally spotted something that looked like the silhouette of a
horse.
Fifteen minutes later David and his three companions were gone – they were
heading for Urumqi. At least four hours drive in the dark on more or less bad
roads.
Next morning we were off. Kristian had arrived earlier to the camp – back from a
short visit to Beijing to sort out problems with the Bank of China.. But that is
another story.
We did not waste any time – the campsite was under heavy attack by flies, bees
and many more flying objects. Our horses suffered immensely. It got a little
better once out in the open desert. We left this little oasis in good speed. For a
while we had this army of flies etc with us – but after a while they decided to turn
back.
It was good to be on the road again.
The mountains ahead of us looked brown and rusty. It did not look so hostile, but
to call it inviting is a far from the truth. The night before, on the way here this
part of Gobi desert looks totally different – all over one can see lights. Like
towers or condos spread all over the darkness. Oil pumps is the reason, this is
Chinas oil country.
The Balikun pastures were supposed to be on the other side of this mountain
range, with vast green areas. Remains to be seen..
Ayken, our Kazak guide was in good mod as always. And on the phone as long as
possible - as long as there was some reception. His new girlfriend kept him busy.
After three ours of good riding we spotted two guys frenetically digging for
something. This seemed to be a good time to have a break in this sandy and stony
desert.
These locals were digging a well. It looked quite deep – but no water in sight.
Wonder why they had chosen this place. Out in the middle of nowhere.
Later in the afternoon we finally hit a small stream of water…. minor spots of
more or less green grass. Not much, but at least some relief for our tired horses.
Our after our in the heat and dust takes it toll.
This route was also a minor stretch of the network of roads that Baron Ferdinand
von Richthofen called “ die Seiden Strasse”.
Our Baron M did travel on this same dusty road hundred years ago and now the
third Baron was making the same journey – our little sturdy Ili valley horse, Baron
Numgan. Maybe this stretch could be called the Three Barons Alley…
Late in the afternoon we reach a small water spot. Our dehydrated horses
finally get some relief – and in this excitement our guide managed to miss the
fork in the road.
That did mean a fifteen-kilometer detour. This was almost fatal for two of our
horses
A mild expression is that we where not happy.
Next day it was very difficult to get the horses going. So we walked most of that
40 km leg…that was surely felt in our legs..eh, but by sunset we had once again
crossed the Heavenly Mountain Range for the fourth time.
No green pastures here - but a police checking point and some houses. It did
feel like luxury and we accepted the offer to sleep under a roof.
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