Day 3: Shaxi to ???

The next morning I set course for Luguhu. The road out of Shaxi is beautiful, winding through the mountains and over villages:



And through small markets:



Handles better in the mud than my bike:




The mountain pass that leads to Lijiang:



In Lijiang I stopped to get an oil change and meant to get gas on the way out of town, but before I knew it I was out by the train station and then on a perfect road out of the city heading towards Luguhu. The road seemed too good to be true – and it was. Sure enough, before long I reached a barrier and a handwritten sign that said “Luguhu” pointing towards a dirt track that climbed a mountain. I assumed it would be a quick little detour, but it turned out to be a complete reroute – I had no idea what road I was on or where I was going, and my GPS wasn’t much help throughout the rest of the afternoon:



But the road turned back to concrete and was actually in pretty good shape most of the day. At one point I even saw a fisheye! I hadn’t realized fisheye technology had reached China yet, but here I was – seeing around corners like some kind of superhero:



And around every corner there were consistently beautiful views:



The road was great, but they’re still working on barriers - wood: softer when you hit the barrier, harder when you hit the valley below! I think I’ll take concrete :)



Wherever I was, it was remote. My gas tank was emptying, my GPS kept telling me to turn around, I didn’t get the feeling that I was actually getting any closer to Luguhu, and so I stopped for lunch:



My little makeshift restaurant had a great view:



And storm clouds were gathering:



As my gas meter dropped to one bar, I started coasting any time I had a downhill and finally came to a sign of civilization - a gate to a park of some sort. I rode up to the gate and found someone to ask about how to get to Luguhu. And, as if conspiring with my GPS, he told me to turn around! “But I just came from that way! And I need gas!” He kept telling me Mingyin had gas – 22 km backward. “But I just came from that way and didn’t see any gas stations!” He kept insisting – and who was I to argue, after all, I had no idea where I was. So I typed Mingyin into the GPS, and sure enough, it was 22 km behind me. I turned around and set course, at least it was downhill and I could coast. And sure enough about 10 km later I reached an intersection I had barely noticed the first time through, the one intersection I had seen all afternoon, I had made a wrong turn! I went the other direction this time, and coasted shortly thereafter into a gas station that, I’m sure, has nothing but Grade A Petrol:



Things were looking up! My GPS now said U-Turn and go 373 kilometers, but a road sign said just 142 km! Needless to say, I went with the road sign:



The road continued to be spectacular:



And storms continued to threaten:



Running with (chasing) the lambs:



It was starting to get late and I was still hoping to reach Luguhu, but couldn’t resist taking photos:



The road wound round the mountain and began to descend into a valley. As I began descending, I started to see flashes of lightening and hear thunder. The storm was finally closing in. Twisties!



And little did I know, Luguhu was still on the other side of the mountain across the valley:



By the time I had made my way down to the bottom of the valley and crossed the river it had started to rain. I rode through a small village and the road turned to begin climbing yet another mountain. My GPS finally picked up the road I was on, and instead of the 50 km to Luguhu that I thought I had left, it said 80. As I looked at the upcoming mountain, now shrouded in angry black clouds, a villager came out and said “It’s raining, go back to the village and stay in an inn!” The voice of wisdom. I turned around and found a small inn (i.e. a room with a bed) run by a Mosuo family. I had dinner, hung out a bit with some of the family, and to add to the ambiance, they gave me a candle – the power was out due to the storm:



I climbed into bed to the sound of rain pounding down on the sheet metal awning, hoping the storm would pass before morning.