In the center of traffic hell
N 30°40'51.0'' E 104°03'23.2''
Date:
27.02.2016
Day: 243
Country:
China
Province:
Sichuan
Location:
Chengdu
Latitude N:
30°40’51.0”
Longitude E:
104°03’23.2”
Daily kilometers:
84 km
Total kilometers:
12,819 km
As the crow flies:
81.47 km
Average speed:
19.9 km/h
Maximum speed:
42.9 km/h
Travel time:
4:13 hrs.
Soil condition:
Asphalt
Maximum height:
500 m
Total altitude meters:
25.392 m
Altitude meters for the day:
280 m
Sunrise:
07:34 am
Sunset:
6:59 pm
Temperature day max:
19°C
Temperature day min:
12°C
Departure:
11:00 a.m.
Arrival time:
3:00 p.m.
(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).
Today we finally head to the provincial capital of Chengdu, a metropolis with a population of 14 million and a vast surrounding area. The weather is getting warmer. Yesterday it was already 15 degrees and today the thermometer is even expected to climb to 19 to 21 degrees. In the Mongolian capital Ulan Bator, it is currently minus 19 degrees and in the city of Erenhot, on the Mongolian-Chinese border, the current temperature is minus 17 degrees. Although it has often been quite cold in recent months, with a few exceptions we have managed to escape the real winter of temperatures below minus 20 degrees. Despite the increasing traffic, we enjoy today’s pleasant warmth. When we reach the second of three city rings, the traffic turns into hell. We ride in a torrent of bikes and hundreds of pedestrians. While I had already mentioned the vital flow mode when entering the city of Xi’an, it is needed again here. The only problem is that you can’t necessarily access flow mode at all times. He comes or he doesn’t come. This depends on your current inner calm and attitude to the situation. Somehow I have the feeling that I am not resting in my center. The stress level is indescribable and seems to increase kilometer by kilometer. I have the impression of being in the middle of the chaos of an anthill, except that I’m not an ant. I find it difficult to adjust to the wafting and pulsating of the electric scooters, bicycles and rickshaws whizzing by. Somehow I don’t know where to look first today. My brain, demanding the utmost concentration, goes there. It feels as if we are in a raging river whose merciless undertow doesn’t give us the slightest chance and simply washes us away. The horn concerts ring in our ears, almost deafening us. Our lane is intended for bicycles and mopeds, but is also used by pedestrians. They walk along as if it were a promenade path where you walk your dog on a Sunday afternoon. People seem to be so numb that they don’t look left or right despite the incessant honking. You simply walk between the silently whirring mopeds whizzing along at high speed. Silent because most of them are equipped with electric motors. We are overtaken again and again. At a red light, one of them crashes into Tanja’s trailer. “Nothing’s happening!” she calls out to me. Two mopeds collide in front of me because one of them is mad enough to ride against this raging current. Neither of them fell. They shout at each other, gesticulating wildly, and race on. Suddenly we end up in the middle of large crowds of people with their suitcases. It looks like we are at a central bus station. A traveler walks in front of me and blocks our way. I slow down so much that I start to sway and stumble off my bike. Nothing happens. The man doesn’t even turn around, just keeps walking and now prevents a whole armada of two-wheelers, some of them heavily laden, from getting any further. Countless human beings are now cavorting with their suitcases on the road until everything, including the traffic, comes to a standstill for a short time, so that one could think that the traffic has now suffered a heart attack. Police officers whistle like mad, trying to bring order to the tangle of which we are a tiny part. I send a prayer to the heavens. “Dear God, please, please let us get out of there safely.” Then it continues, in the same hectic pace, with the same stress. Never in my life would I have thought that I would get caught up in such madness, especially with a heavily loaded bike and trailer. “Suuschscht,” is all I hear as one of the electric scooters crosses the lane just in front of my front tire. It came out of a driveway from the right and shot to the left into the flow of traffic. It happened so quickly that my body wasn’t even able to react. Nothing happens, let’s move on. At an intersection, my GPS tells me to turn left. When I turn around, there is no sign of Tanja. “What a bummer. I hope none of the lunatics got her off her bike,” I think to myself. Now standing on the other side of the large intersection, I glance nervously over and hope to catch sight of Tanja. She is not coming. Buses and trucks block my view. Cars honk and force me to drive a little further. “Oh God, don’t let anything happen,” I pray for the second time in a short time, and this is actually a moment when praying is not difficult. Suddenly I see a helmet, then a purple jacket. Yes! Tanja is on her bike and has reached the junction. “Thank you so much,” I snort and feel my heart race with excitement. “Tanja! Here I am! Here!” I shout across the intersection. She can’t hear me. Stops and looks in the wrong direction. Sure, how would she know that I took a turn? It has no GPS on the handlebars. “Here I am! Here!” I continue to shout, worried that she might drive on or turn into another street. But she stops and looks in every direction but mine. I see her reach for her smartphone and call me. The doorbell rings. I quickly get my phone out of the handlebar bag. I have problems answering the call because of my gloves. I keep trying to swipe the display with my index finger but it doesn’t react. Suddenly it stops sounding. I’m just about to dial her number when she looks over at me. A few Chinese people drew her attention to me. “A helpful people,” I think. After another five minutes, Tanja, together with several hundred pedestrians, managed to cross the road. “A car cut me off and stopped in front of me. He just slowed me down and then you were already gone,” she explains. “It doesn’t matter, the main thing is that nothing has happened to you,” I reply, and we continue our hellish ride. Five kilometers further on, we stop on the hard shoulder, panting. Traffic is quieter here. It looks like the worst is behind us. “According to the coordinates, the hostel should be around here somewhere,” I say. Tanja asks a couple of young female students. They help immediately and call the accommodation. Then they show us the direction in which it should lie. “Someone will come to meet you,” they explain as they say goodbye.
Momo, a young student who works at the hostel, is standing on a bridge over a canal in which stinking sewage is bubbling away. She greets us warmly and leads us through narrow alleyways into the maze of old houses. “Here we are,” she says in English, pointing to the house where we will be staying for the next few weeks in preparation for our departure to Vietnam and onward journey through China. Schuschu, the owner, and Linda, another young member of staff, give us a very friendly welcome. Ajaci jumps out of his caravan and immediately makes friends with the young women. We quickly wheeled our bikes into the courtyard and stored our luggage in a simple but clean room with a balcony. “Phew, that was a ride,” I gasp in relief. “Yes, it was and we can say thank you for arriving here safely and on time,” Tanja replies, laughing freely…
If you would like to find out more about our adventures, you can find our books under this link.
The live coverage is supported by the companies Gesat GmbH: www.gesat.com and roda computer GmbH http://roda-computer.com/ The satellite telephone Explorer 300 from Gesat and the rugged notebook Pegasus RP9 from Roda are the pillars of the transmission.
