Ride Planet Earth

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The rain just started coming down outside so I’ve taken brief refuge here in the internet cafe until it passes. I should be grateful really, it hasn’t rained in over a month. This is Kunming’s dry season. In fact, as I was cycling in 2 days ago the land was so dry that when some strong winds picked up the air filled with dust, stinging my eyes and creating a hazy blur everywhere I looked.

I’m staying in Kunming at least a week I think. There are some possibilities for english teaching to raise much needed funds, plus I need to wait for some spare parts for my bike. They are being sent here from the Shimano factory. In the meantime my legs have also sent a petition up to my brain demanding they recieve a substantial period of recovery after the long ascents of the past 7 weeks.

After my last entry in Jiang Cheng I headed north east, heading towards a placed called Yuan Yang, and some surroundings that took my breath away. Yuanyang is a large town perched on the crest of a mountain, sitting high amongst the mountain ranges of Southern Yunnan province. Cut into the ranges, for hundreds of kilometres in all directions, are rows after rows of rice terraces. Astonishing feats of human courage and persistence, they cover even the steepest of these formidable slopes. Every piece of available earth has been dug, shifted and shaped to accomodate the rice grains, and sustain the local people. As the sun rises and sets the water held by each terrace catches its reflection, creating a dazzingly mirror to the skys stretching into the distance. I had to keep stopping in awe of what I saw around me.

There were no cities in the area, a few large towns, built around markets where the villagers congregate to share their wares. The majority populations were of made up of various tribal groups such as the Hani. Dressed in bright blouses and head-dresses, adorned with stunningly intricate embroidery, the women toil away in the fields, the men doing their bit as well, although unfortunately markedly less colourful. Unfathomably the farmers manage to get their buffalo into the terraces to turn the soil, I still have no idea how they get in and out. But there were problems too.

What I’ve seen on my journey so far is the best and worst of us. The way humans manage to survive in the world almost anywhere but at the expanse of our natural environment everywhere. Even here, far from the overwhelming pollution of Beijing and Shanghai, world’s away from the power guzzling cities of the United States, Europe and Australia, the signs of environmental exploitation are evident. The rivers here are under enormous strain. Dammed at multiple levels the river beds are filled with soil in desperate efforts to create more farmable land. Water is diverted at every opportunity to irrigate the agricultural fields and subsequently the rivers appear to be shrinking before your eyes. The water is mostly brown, filled with agricultural run-off. Rubbish floats downstream in place of a waste disposal or recycling system. The glorious forests that survive in pockets of protected areas are reminders of what this region once was.

Most people here still live largely traditional lives, their use of the land the same as it has been for generations. The problem is the increasing population, this is what has pushed the environment here to the edges and beyond of what it can cope with. And all this in an area sparsely populated when compared with the crowded east of China. I shudder to think of the environmental destruction there.

Many of the people here still use horses, bicycles and get around by foot. But of course they are tempted by the lavish lifetsyles of the big cities in China and the West, the extravagant cars and homes they see on television. If we are going to turn things around that is where change needs to start.

I was happy to find a number of touring cyclists in these remote places. Actually virtually all of the few foriegners I saw or met were cycling. But I still spent almost all of my time alone, camping by these quiet roads after a hard days cycling. My sleep only occasionally disturbed by the rumble of one of the slow hulking trucks that trudge the provincial routes, making unglamourous deliveries to far-flung communities. Loneliness sometimes hits but I steel myself against it. The fact I can’t speak really any Mandarin makes it even harder. My days are spent as a mute, motioning and gesticulating often to no effect. Sometimes my voice even sounds foriegn once I finally make an utterance.

Eventually I left the southern mountains heading almost directly north, keen to make it to Kunming, a city of some 3 1/2 million. As I closed in on my destination I came across more and more people, and some of these new concrete cities I had been hearing about. There seemed to be small towns buried somewhere in the centre of what were obviously continuously expanding population centres. Giant concrete anthills built to accommodate the masses. Gratefully the chinese seem keen to ensure their sense of community does not get lost in the process, the older generation still sit on the street corners smoking their long pipes, and children still play in the middle of the thoroughfares. Its the architecture that seems to have altered, but the people show more resistance. As I entered Kunming the contrasts were clear. Donkey carts waiting by Audis at the traffic lights.

I’m staying with some wonderful people now. An american couple who recently moved here to work for environmental NGOs in the city. Their lives, and that of the cyclists and travellers I have met recently, provide the mental and emotional sustenance that I need to keep me going.