Xiewu to Shiqu – Day 93

We were on the road just after 10am, aiming for Manigango, 315 kilometres away on the S217.





As we approached the Qinghai/Sichuan border we started to climb a pass and my engine started spluttering and losing power, much worse than usual. I was concerned that there was something seriously wrong with the carburetor or fuel lines, but pushed that thought to the back of my mind. Lulu zoomed past me, as I assured myself that it was just the bike dealing with the altitude again.

We made it to the top of the pass at 4700 metres, and were into Sichuan, a province Lulu and I had been many times before. This made me feel very close to home now, and even though I was already late getting back to work (I was supposed to be back on the 6th of June), and I was fatigued from the lack of rest days since Charklik, I didn’t want it to end. I took one look into Qinghai from the pass, and got on the bike to leave Qinghai behind me.



Continuing through the Hengduan mountains, with its snow covered valleys, white tents and yaks still there. Not much changed at the border.



We stopped at the Serxu Dzong temple which looked as though it was being renovated. Even though he was a bit shy , young monk volunteered to show us around,













I nearly got bitten by a guard dog again, but monks saved me again and threw rocks at it.

We were running low on petrol as we got into Shiqu (also known as Serxu Xian). We looked around for a Sinopec or Petrochina but had to settle for a local station as it was the only working one in town. As we pulled into the station, we saw an unusual looking fellow on a strange looking bike. A foreigner? It was Pat, a solo rider from Beijing who had scored a job in Kunming and also preferred to drive than fly.





It was a stroke of luck to meet him just by chance, as he was just about to leave, and we had only just arrived in time. a couple of minutes either side and we would have missed him completely.

It was 5pm and we were only half way to Manigango, after doing just over 100 kilometres. It was too far to make before nightfall, so we made a trip to the local monastery to see if we could stay the night, but they don’t allow women to stay on the grounds.



So we found a nice (a little pricey) bingguan out the front of an army office and had Sichuan food for dinner again. It was good to have a native English speaker to blab to, and talk about the ride with. Lulu’s English is good, but there are plenty of ways I could (and had, many many times) mix up my meanings with her. He also had plenty of interesting stories and had come to Shiqu by almost a completely different way from us.