This was the view for about five hours. The Chinese certainly know how to torture people!
Strictly speaking, *this* was even more of a "Road to Nowhere" than the journey to Songpan had been, but Jane's description of this road, her vagueness on the length of journey time, and the relative size of our destination, all made this more than just a journey into the unknown. We were also not prepared for the type of destination we were headed for either.
Early start ---> 7ish. No more lie-ins for me it seems. When asked how long the journey to Langmuzi would take, Jane merely shrugged - "Between eight hours and whenever" was her, slightly unhelpful, response. She told us that a previous journey had taken fifteen hours, as the roads had been hellish and very muddy, it had been raining severely and that had basically washed away some of the route! She also pointed out that accidents were common.
With that in mind we gritted our teeth and started the journey. The first couple of hours were pretty bumpy, but the lack of comfort was made up for by some spectacular remote scenery, with streams running alongside high mountains, and as the road rose we could see the whole valleys laid out before us. We hugged the mountains close, and passed by the very occasional farm. Once we reached the top of the East Tibetan Plateau however, things changed slightly.
We passed through a sort of village camp, presumably the meeting place for all the local nomadic people, but then for the rest of the journey the countryside took on a similar quality. High mountains to either side, but a reasonable distance from the road. In between lay flat, bleak, moorland. The road itself invariably disappeared into the distance, often pretty much straight ahead so the next bend was beyond the vanishing point. And no buildings to block the view, except for the very occasional off-road cottage. "Road" itself was probably a compliment; it was a wide line of gravel and stones between the moorland. And rode as such. Comfort was still drinking beer in Songpan, and would not be joining us for this journey.
We stopped for lunch in the obscure, Muslim-influenced, ragged, run-down town of Zoige. We found a nice-looking hotel that was serving food, however the toilets were enough to put anyone off eating!! Actually, owing to the nature of the journey thus far, only about half of the group felt well enough to eat anyway!
Just before we arrived in Zoige we passed through another native village. This one was unusual in that I swear it was a ringer for the village of Asterix the Gaul!! Thatched roofed cottages, wood, the style of the houses, there was a kind of rampart running round it - surreal! Unfortunately I didn't manage to get a picture of it. :(
The journey beyond Zoige was pretty much the same, except a little higher. I was starting to get a headache brought on by the altitude, and I got the feeling I wasn't the only person suffering from mild altitude sickness.
We were going up one hill and Radka wanted to stop to take a picture of the view. The bus driver told her that we couldn't stop while going uphill as there was no guarantee we'd be able to start again! However, approximately fifteen seconds later, we did indeed stop! We got told by a local that there had been some kind of accident on the road ahead and that traffic was tailing back all the way to this hill. We drove up the short distance to the top of the hill, stopped on the crest, and looked out over the scene. Far below us we could see what looked like a crashed lorry, but also a line of other lorries that had stopped off-road for some reason.
We drove on down the hill, passing by a fair few lorries parked at the side of the road. As we got closer it became clearer as to what had actually happened. One lorry on the way to Zoige had obviously been going too fast round a corner, and had toppled onto its side. Another lorry, going towards Langmusi, had tried to pass the stricken vehicle and had itself then tipped over. Obviously, to right these lorries was going to take some time - they'd have to be unloaded first and no-one had even started doing that! There were plenty of people around, but as would have been the case in the UK, most of them were standing round looking rather than actually doing anything constructive. However, I believe they had to wait for the police to turn up first, and given that the accident was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, that could take some time. The other lorries we'd seen off-roading had been trying to cut off the corner where the crashes had taken place, but because they too were overloaded, they'd got themselves stuck in the boggy ground.
Our bus driver, the indomitable Mr Lee, decided to risk it and go off-road himself. To give himself a chance we all got out, hoping this wouldn't involve with us pushing the thing! In the event things went pretty well; our bus made it over the grass, and in fact so did a couple of the lorries! We all got back on, and for the next few minutes of driving we passed a long queue of lorries coming the other way. Jane pointed out that these lorries were frequently overloaded, and given the mad way that the Chinese drive, accidents were fairly common, and we should be thankful that it wasn't raining as then the road is virtually impassable and the lorries get stuck *on* the road never mind off it.
We reached Langmusi in pretty good time, the journey taking a rather acceptable nine hours. (Of course it was only acceptable given the alternatives that could have happened.) It was then that we saw what we had let ourselves in for.
I am sure that there is something quaint about spending three nights in a beautifully-situated, incredibly remote, friendly, mud-filled building site but I have yet to decide what it is. We had to walk the last couple of hundred metres to the hostel because the bus couldn't drive through the mud. Besides, there was a cement mixer in the way ....
In the hostel we were to share four dorm rooms, four in a room. Originally we were to be in the same combinations as on the horse trek but I had swapped earlier in the day with Louise. I figured she'd rather be with the other antipodeans, and I seemed to get on better with the Swiss girls anyway.
We ate in a café called Leisha's, virtually the only café in Langmusi and although small, seems to be the favourite haunt for backpackers. Its speciality is the Yak Burger, and it comes in two distinct sizes. I had the "Baby Yak Burger", which was pretty huge and I just about finished it. Upon seeing the size of it, Alan and Andy were feeling a bit of trepidation. They'd both ordered the "McYak Attack", a double-sized yak burger. They took its arrival in their stride, Andy with a "no, this is OK, I think I can do this", and Alan with a more thoughtful, optimistic, naive "if you chew it slowly you can eat more". On the wall of Leisha's there is a list of all the people who have taken this so-called Yak Challenge and succeeded. Needless to say, neither Andy's nor Alan's name were added to that list!
Langmusi has no street lights. So we had to walk back to the hostel by torchlight, in the dark, through the mud, along some narrow, slippery, walkways (including, at one point, a water pipe!).
And then there were the toilets. Chinese-style, open-plan toilets I can just about stand. I think where some of the group had a problem was either with the primitive flush mechanism (a bucket of water, filled from the "bathroom" next door), the overall dodgy smell caused by a succession of people not wanting to fill the bucket and flushing, and the rather bizarre concept of being potentially overlooked by workmen behind the hostel while you were doing your stuff!
We went to bed around 10pm-ish. While she reading with torchlight, I was amused by the way it looked like the shadow of a snake in the light projected onto the wall from Kathrin's torch. All four of us then had a bizarre half-hour of Kathrin doing shadow-puppetry just like we had seen in Chengdu. It was the best I'd laughed for a while!