A dream from which we would prefer not to wake up
N 44°14'42.7'' E 111°05'04.3''
Date:
11.09.2015
Day: 75
Country:
Mongolia
Location:
Gobi Desert Camp
Latitude N:
44°14’42.7”
Longitude E:
111°05’04.3”
Daily kilometers:
121 km
Total kilometers:
9,272 km
As the crow flies:
76 km
Average speed:
22.5 km/h
Maximum speed:
57 km/h
Travel time:
5:37 hrs.
Soil condition:
Asphalt
Maximum height:
1.100 m
Total altitude meters:
4.220 m
Altitude meters for the day:
210 m
Headwind wind force 4:
22 km/h
Sunrise:
07:08 am
Sunset:
7:57 pm
Temperature day max:
12 °C
Departure:
9:00 a.m.
Arrival time:
7:00 p.m.
Total plate tires:
4
Plate front tire:
1
Flat rear tire:
2
Plate trailer tire:
1
(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).
At just 10 °C, it is unpleasantly cool today. The cloudy sky promises rain. The national flags on our trailers are waving in the wind. We are blown out of Sainschand by the north wind. When we reach the highway, we head south. Now it is blowing towards us at force four. Although we know that the German family will be waiting for us, we sometimes drive in eco mode for safety reasons. Who knows if they won’t be the ones who break down and we’ll be left stranded because they might not show up. A decision that demands a lot of strength from us in these wind conditions.
After 27 km our first battery is empty. We use battery 2. When I switch on the on-board computer, I look at the display in disbelief. “Battery 2 is empty,” I say. “What? That can’t be right?” replies Tanja. “I probably thought it was full and didn’t charge it.” “It’s just as well that Peter is charging our batteries today,” says Tanja. I’m annoyed that I didn’t check the current collectors properly. Shaking my head at myself, we cycle on. “What’s that coming towards us?” I call out a little later. As the flat thing approaches, we can’t believe our eyes at first. It’s a recumbent of the extra-flat variety without a flag or anything that could warn drivers. We stop immediately and greet the man. “Hello!” he also calls out happily without getting out of his flat companion. Euphoric to meet a European on this lonely stretch of road, we shake hands. Only now do I realize that Antoine Aoun is paraplegic and drives his bike with a hand crank instead of a pedal crank. “I come from Beijing and drive all the way to Europe,” he says. “We didn’t see you at first. Isn’t it dangerous to cycle like that without a flag?” I ask. “I lost them a few days ago,” he replies as another cyclist arrives. It is his wife sitting on a normal bike. “I’ve already done many expeditions like this. We also passed through Germany on one of our tours,” says the tanned, handsome Frenchman. “How do you do it without luggage?” I ask because there are no bags on the bikes. “We will be accompanied by a support vehicle. As you drive on, you’re sure to meet my friends. You really must take a look at my website. It shows you how many expeditions I’ve been on over the last few decades,” says the adventurer with a laugh and hands us his address. http://www.antoineaoun.com/
“It’s unbelievable what you’re doing. Really fantastic. I’m sure you’re inspiring many people around the world,” we say with great respect. Then we say goodbye to Antoine and his wife and continue our journey highly motivated.
After 45 km, an old orange minibus overtakes us. “You must be crazy!” shouts from the window of the old VW panel van. The vehicle stops just a few hundred meters further on. “That looks like you could do with a fresh coffee?” asks the friendly man, who introduces himself as Jens. “That sounds fantastic,” Tanja and I reply at the same time and put our e-bikes on the stand. “And where is your journey taking you?” I ask our cheerful host. “One year from Germany to Asia. That’s where I’m going to send Elton on his well-deserved retirement?” “Elton?” “That’s the name of my bus.” “That’s an original name for a bus. Are you traveling alone through China? Doesn’t that cost half a fortune because of the tour guide they put on you?” “No, I’ve joined a tour group. There are five of us. However, one of us has gearbox damage and is waiting in Ulan Bator for spare parts. We actually wanted to cross over to China on September 14. But now we have to see if that works out.” “On September 14th? Do you know Katharina and Peter? They’re traveling with their daughters and a dog.” “I’ve never seen them before, but I know them. They’re part of our group,” he laughs. “It won’t be long now before they turn up here. Peter will be charging our batteries today,” I say enthusiastically about this nice coincidence of meeting another member of the tour group. We are just about to say goodbye to Jens when Katharina and Peter’s giant ship appears. To greet us he blows his horn which almost blows us out of the saddle. “So you haven’t come very far yet?” Peter says with a laugh. “The headwind slowed us down a bit,” I reply. “What headwind?” “Well, you in your warhorse won’t feel a thing,” I reply in high spirits. Katharina and Peter meet Jens for the first time and have a lively chat. “Let’s get going,” I say, so that our German family doesn’t have to wait too long for us at the agreed meeting point. “Do you want to give me your empty batteries in the meantime? I can charge them in the meantime,” asks Peter before we leave the group. “Great idea,” I reply. “You’ve covered 40 km since Sainshand. In how many kilometers do we want to meet?” he wants to know. “Think in 30 km. That means in about 70 to 80 minutes,” I reply. “Okay, we’ll wait for you in a nice place. I hope you’re hungry enough. Katharina will cook for us,” we hear his invitation to lunch and once again can’t believe how lucky we are to have met these nice people. It doesn’t take long for them to overtake us, honking loudly and waving out of the window. After a little over an hour, we see the large motorhome parked in a meadow next to the road. The generator is already humming and charging our batteries. “Please give me the other two batteries. They should be empty by now,” says Peter, whereupon we connect them to the generator as well.
As it starts to rain lightly, Katharina and Peter invite us into their wonderful home. So it is that we look out of large panoramic windows onto the Gobi Desert in relatively uncomfortable weather and enjoy a tasty Thai meal. “So today I feel like a grasshopper. We only ever jump a few kilometers in our motorhome to stop again,” says Peter. “But it’s varied. What would we have done so early at the border? We get to have interesting conversations. It’s an extremely entertaining day,” interjects Katharina. “If you want, we can camp together tonight. Then I can recharge your batteries and we can enjoy dinner together,” Peter offers. “An excellent idea. That’s a fantastic offer,” I reply.
As we continue our journey after lunch, the sun comes out and dispels the clouds. The wind suddenly turns 180 degrees and blows at our backs. We whizz along at an almost unbelievable 27 to 30 km/h without having to make any particular effort. Large herds of horses gallop past us. After about 90 km, the advertised petrol station appears on a hill, whose pumps are powered by a generator. It looks like we wouldn’t have been able to charge our batteries here. When we reach the top, three massive dogs charge towards us. “Aaaahhhh!” it roars behind me like a Mongolian horde during one of their dreaded attacks. Startled by Tanja’s roar, I pedal like a stallion. As I’m going downhill, I reach just under 60 km/h. Just behind me I see Tanja, crouched behind her handlebars, also spinning her pedals like a bull. With this adrenaline rush, the pooches don’t stand a chance and give up the chase.
It is already 7 p.m. when we discover the motorhome of our grasshopper family again after 121 kilometers. The sound of the generator rattles towards us. Although I don’t particularly like this noise under normal circumstances, it now sounds like an anthem to me. We let our bikes roll onto the meadow, unload them and set up our wonderful tent for the first time in Mongolia. “At last we can sleep in our own realm and don’t have to stay in such street accommodation,” says Tanja happily. Like in a fairy tale, the glowing ball of the sun lies on the horizon line during these minutes and bathes the Gobi in a light that can only be found in a desert. As the long shadows lose their power and the temperatures have dropped uncomfortably, we hear a wonderful call that makes our hearts beat faster: Tanja! Denis! Come and eat!”
We hurry into the mobile home. “Do you want a beer with your meal?” asks Peter. “Did you say beer?” I ask incredulously. “Yes.” “Of course, that would be wonderful,” I reply and hope I can stay in this dream for a long time to come. Hungry, we eat the delicious potato soup and talk about the day. The quarantine problem of our dogs is also discussed. “So if you want, we can ask Mrs. Spring if she can take your Ajaci across the border,” suggests Katharina. “Would you really do that?” asks Tanja. “Yes, why not? The more dogs in the tour group, the better. At least it can’t hurt and you have all the necessary papers in English and Chinese.” “That would be fantastic. Yes, it would be wonderful if you could ask Mrs. Spring for us. It can only be good and who knows, maybe our dogs will cross the border without quarantine,” says Tanja.
A while later, Peter suggests: “I was thinking that we could do the same tomorrow as we did today,” Peter extends our dream. “I couldn’t imagine anything better,” replies Tanja. “Okay, Denis is good at telling stories. Right?” asks Peter. “Right,” answers Tanja. “Then that’s how we handle it. One story for one battery charge.” “It’s a great pleasure to be able to tell you stories from our traveling life. So for tonight, I’m offering you three stories. You can choose one. Okay?” “Okay,” answer the daughters Sarah and Sonja. One story is about Bawan Kumari, our dangerous elephant cow, with whom we crossed mystical Nepal and killed the three mahouts (elephant guides). The second story tells of how we rode our camels through the tribal territory of the Mujahideen on the border with Afghanistan. Where we were shot at and enjoyed the high hospitality of tribal princes and the third story tells of cannibals with whom I lived a long time ago in West New Guinea…”
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