Mongolia to China  --  September 2002

Monika,  braving the storm prior to leaving Mongolia for China

We had a fantastic four days at Lake Hoskov where we relaxed and enjoyed the magnificent scenery.  The views of the pine forests, rolling hills and the crystal clear lake were wonderful. It was also a time for reflection as I wondered had I pushed Monika too hard during the ride north.  The terrain we had encountered was the worse I had ever ridden on and, if the truth were known, Monika handled it better much better than me.  She is a much more cautious rider than I am, which is confirmed by our crash count at minus 10 mph.  This currently stands at Monika 9 Simon 14 but these were statistics not from asphalt riding, these were from riding our BMW GS motorbikes across rocks, riverbeds and deserts.  Add all of the extra weight and it's not too hard to see how one misplaced foot can send you over.  For more than 90% of the occasions when we did take a tumble, it was at the end of the day when we were both feeling tired and exhausted.

 Monika for once had her 650GS packed before me, which told me she was looking forward to getting back on her bike and hitting the dust trails. We made the decision to leave the track and head up into the hills, to ride as the crow fly’s. We could do this because we now had the way-points set in our Garmin GPS.  By definition we always knew where petrol, food and water would be located. Monika kicked her bike into gear and took the most direct route towards the summit.  She didn't even wait for me to follow and I could see she was smiling and loving every second.  And then she disappeared out of site, which was my cue to play catch-up. It was during that first morning ride, south to Ulaanbaatar that I could see she really had her confidence back and was enjoying every single kilometre of this beautiful country.  Not for the first time during the trip I thought how proud of her I was, and just how competent she looked, riding her BMW 650 GS motorbike.

 We returned to the capital to prepare for our visit to China and our appointment with the SKY News team based in Beijing. Unfortunately, and it wasn’t for the want of trying, we were unable to take our bikes across the border into China. Bureaucracy decreed that it would be expensive to the tune of $200 dollars per day for the two bike licenses and that would not include the price of a local guide which, by law, would have to accompany us.  We would also have to be responsible for the guide's day to day living expenses. The Mongolian National Media, sympathetic to our concerns, featured our story and request for entry into China in the National Newspapers and TV but it was to no avail. Cherry, a member of the SKY NEWS team in China, had pulled out all the stops to allow us to enter with bikes but it would have taken a minimum of 28 days and the cost would still have been $200 per day.  Because our daily budget is only $15 dollars per person it was never going to happen! We couldn’t stop thinking how different things might have been if I were Richard Branson, the well known English entrepreneur, and had friends in high places like Tony Blair.  Alas, it was not to be.  We are an ordinary couple with a dream and that alone does not cut through red tape.  Well, not in China it doesn’t.

We had three route options for travelling to Beijing. The first, by plane -- but this would prove too expensive; and the other two by train. There was a direct route to Beijing from Ulaanbaatar which would have avoided the inconvenience of disembarking from the train at the border-crossing.  It would have then continued on to Beijing but it was almost $80 per head compared to the local train which was twice as slow but only $4.00 per head.  So we took the local train and saved the money, accepting that we would have to disembark at the border, cross over into China on foot, and then make our own way to Beijing by what ever means possible.

 The train was adequate and much better than we had anticipated because of the small price we paid, but sub standard compared to European trains - with the exception of British Rail,that is! The trains had two seating options, soft-seat or hard-seat and the only difference we could see would be an extra few millimetres of foam on the soft seat providing a minimum rise in comfort, but was it worth an extra $14? We didn’t think so!

 We took our seats among the chaotic activity which carried on relentlessly, in spite of our presence. Food sellers, not the official train employees, were stealthily moving up and down the train corridors, selling their wares, which included everything from mutton encased in pasta to hot drinks, coffee and tea and even Mongolian vodka.  They immediately made a hasty retreat whenever the official ticket inspectors made their approach. Many soldiers stood in the aisles, smoking and drinking beer.  They were heading south after leave to resume their duties on the Chinese border. Market traders with enormous cardboard boxes packed so tightly that they could have exploded open at any time, clogged what little space was left.  Monika and I sat in disbelief, with eyes as wide as barn owls, trying to take in this animated oriental display of organized chaos.

It wasn't the best night's sleep we have ever had.  Some of the locals had taken a liking to our Terra Nova sleeping bags and without hesitation or shame and probably under the influence of alcohol had cuddled up to both me and Monika sleeping on adjacent pull down bunks. At 2AM one middle aged women stinking of alcohol removed her outer garments and snuggled up to me and even wrapped her arms around me (much to the amusement of Monika who was laughing uncontrollably) whilst her sleeping partner slept with his head firmly planted on her buttocks. It was, to put it mildly, a memorable experience. At 5am and now sleeping alone I was awoken by clouds of dust and sand which had been sucked up from between the train carriages.  The choking dust pervading the carriage indicated that we were now deep inside the Gobi Desert and just a short distance from the Chinese border and our final stop, the railway station at Zamin Ud.

The border crossing was routine apart from not being able to cross on foot.  This meant hiring a four wheel drive vehicle to take us across no-mans-land, and then on further, traversing a stretch of deep, soft sand to get to the Customs and Immigration controls, some two miles away from the train station. Luckily for us there was no shortage of volunteers or vehicles.  We were driven across by an Officer in the Mongolian Army who was free-lancing before the start of his working day. Six of us crammed into his jeep which had had all the seats removed, except for his own, to ensure maximum passenger capacity and pay out. Fortunately his high rank enabled us to jump right to the front of the queue which by now was exceeding 50 vehicles, all of which were pointing east in the direction of China's point of entry. Within an hour, the formalities were completed.  This was mainly due to the assistance and kindness of a Mongolian tourist guide called Nadia who was on one of her frequent shopping sprees to Beijing and was well acquainted with the routine. We entered China, but it was a sobering occasion as we didn’t have our BMW bikes.  This was the first time in six months we had been separated from our personal transport and we felt vulnerable, Fortunately for us our bikes were safe, as a gentleman called 'Adam', an ex-pat whom we had met at a party at the British Embassy in Ulaanbaatar had kindly offered the use of his secure garage whilst we visited China.

 At 12 noon we boarded our sleeper bus to Beijing. It was to be a 16-hour ride in what can best be described as a hospital ward on wheels. All the seats of the coach had been removed and had been replaced by thick pile foam which decked the flooring.  Every person on board, and there were many, had two cushions and two blankets. We found ourselves space amongst the other fare-paying passengers and duly lay down. We found this a strange experience as we had to prop our selves up on our elbows to peer out of the windows. The stops were scheduled for every six hours so I had to turn down many offers of Vodka from my new found friends for fear of needing the toilet only three hours into the journey.

The first toilet stop would be a chance for me to get more acquainted with some of the other passengers on our coach but unfortunately for me it was not in a way I would have preferred or would like to repeat. The toilets at the coach stop had only holes in the floor where you would squat for a number two or stand for a pee but there was no separation just one line of holes closely positioned and so, eager for a pee I burst into the toilets first, and gasped in relief, only to be joined shortly later by four other Mongolians who in turn dropped their trousers, turned and faced me and then squatted which left me blushing as I continued my business being closely scrutinized by new-found friends positioned only inches away, staring intently at my manhood.

The coach journey was interrupted approximately every 200 kilometres by large security barriers which barred the road.  Theses were manned by Chinese soldiers whose aim was to check the papers of every vehicle.  Occasionally the soldiers would board the coach to have a cursory glance ensuring everything was how it should be, a graphic reminder that we were now in China and all the things we take for granted in the west like freedom of movement and freedom of speech would no longer apply.

Monika in Tiananman Square, Beijing, on foot, shortly after arrival in China
(click on image to enlarge)

We arrived at the outskirts of Beijing and took a shuttle-bus to our destination, the Hotel Jing Huan, situated eight kilometres south in a part of the city which is popular with the international back-packing fraternity. We waited patiently in the lobby for the receptionist, who was nowhere to be seen, and passed the time admiring the hotel decor. This included a highly polished marble floor, leather settees and elegant mirrors finished in oak trim -- hardly the fixtures of your traditional hostel, but we were later to find out the Hostel was a new addition fixed firmly to the rear of a 4 star hotel. 30 minutes passed before we were awoken from our semi conscious state by bursts of laughter and the noisy exchanges of drunken revelers.  One of them, a young man called Pete, a Londoner with a strong cockney accent and cheeky smile, and his two female friends. I asked them where the receptionist was and Pete replied:

"They don’t start work until 0645 so you may as well wait in the bar.  It's 24 hours opening, you know, and it's only a dollar for three bottles!"

I wasn’t sure if Monika was up for an early morning beer but I certainly was, especially after 16 hours lying vertical on the mobile hospital ward and over one month in dusty Mongolia and so we joined the other revellers and that’s where we stayed for the next couple of hours unwinding and relaxing.

 Relaxing away from the bikes in the Midnight Club (Click on image to enlarge)

The following day after a marathon sleep, we awoke early and decided to have a pre-breakfast walk and catch our first glimpse of Beijing at sunrise. The roads were already congested.  We saw rickshaws competing for space and passengers with the hordes of taxis parked outside. A fine layer of smog could already be seen hanging over the city and a foul smell from the nearby polluted river stung our eyes and made us clasp our noses. One hundred meters away, on a precinct corner, a group of about forty elderly persons dressed in bright baggy slacks were dancing in unison to a popular Chinese anthem. On the opposite corner, a small group of men dressed in black cotton trousers and white vests were practising a form of martial arts. None of this activity attracted the attention of the passers-by because this was Beijing, and this was a ritual that has been passed down from generation to generation. Our first impressions of Beijing were of a city not at ease with its own identity.  Large, modern skyscrapers dominate the skyline and stand imposingly where the traditional Chinese homes, the Huttons, used to stand. Unless you were fortunate enough to have succeeded in business and kept ahead of the rising property prices, then you, like hundreds of thousands of other residents, would be relocated by the 'Party Officials' to the sub-standard tenement blocks situated miles outside the city. The side streets were awash with vendors, all competing for the quick buck: cobblers, shoe shine and bicycle repair men stood side by side with food and general merchants, selling everything from live-game, counterfeit clothing and fresh fruit. You would sometimes have to check your pace to avoid walking into the groups of men huddled together on the pavement whilst playing tradional Chinese mahjong.  There were masseurs with makeshift beds, positioned on anything that would support them, beckoning to anybody or everybody who would listen.  And amongst all of this was the traditional icons of capitalism as on every major street corner would be a McDonalds, Pizza Hut or Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Surprisingly, for a major city, we found Beijing remarkably inexpensive, as a three or four course meal and numerous beers would rarely cost more than four dollars per head provided, that is, there was a minimum of four eating. And if you really pushed the boat out you could get a street body-message for one hour for only $2.00 and after 1200 miles off-road riding in Mongolia it proved to be just the tonic.

The Jing Huan Hotel at only $4.00 per head also proved to be excellent value.  A 15-minute bus ride from outside the hotel would take you to all the major attractions including the Summer Palace, Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square. If your destination was the Great Wall of China you could take a tour organized by the Hotel for just $10.00. This all sounded exciting and yes we were extremely eager to visit, but we decided to relax for a few day’s especially as the company was fantastic! This was our unwinding period and for once we where determined to enjoy it.

The manageress of the hotel Bar, Whaley, kept everybody happy with her inimitable slapstick humour which was sometimes a little over the top but entertaining all the same. We met old friends from our travels in Ulaanbaatar and Outer Mongolia and made new friends from Europe, North America, Australia, New Zealand, Israel and Japan where we made friends with a Japanese student called Chizuko who nursed Monika through a 48-hour flu.  We also became good friends with an American from Montana. His name was Brett aged about 30, good fun and very good-looking a fact which was made obvious by the constant attention he was receiving from the females.  The fact that he was an experienced traveller and bon-viveur proved extremely useful when it came to choosing from the less familiar Chinese menus.  

Our time in the hotel was not completely wasted, as we were taught how to play the bongo drums by Cockney Pete who had just had a long spell in Africa, we were treated to magic shows provided by the charismatic Frankie, an Australian Tour Guide leader, and even managed to get some practice in at Pool, at one point becoming the hotel champion, if only for one night! 

After two days relaxing we ventured out to do some sight-seeing, which included Tiananmen Square and the Summer Palace. Tiananmen triggered those memories of the TV footage which featured the massacre which occurred in 1989.  It was reported that some 2000 civilians were killed by the military for demonstrating in force against state corruption, human rights and communism.  On the southern edge of Tiananmen I took the opportunity to talk to a freelance artist in his late thirties about the events of 1989 and what things were like in China now. He said there had been big changes in China and the country had more freedom now than ever before, but the famous massacre and the many people that died will never be forgotten and one day in the future the government of the day will be held accountable. As we talked, squads of soldiers were marching across or around Tiananmen from given points at set intervals.  The effect of this was that as one squad finished another would start, thus ensuring that the square would always have an active military presence, providing a menacing deterrent to would-be protestors. 

Filming with SKY-TV in Beijing, China (Andy, Porch and Rex)  Click image to enlarge

We filmed with SKY TV in a beautiful part of Beijing and were also treated to a fantastic meal in an exclusive restaurant where Andy Porch the Sky camera man and Rex the producer entertained us with their stories of filming around the world, including coverage of the more recent Afghanistan war where Andy was brought out injured after receiving shrapnel wounds during the famous Taliban siege of the Afghanistan armoury. Andy also offered some advice on camera techniques which included don’t sweep your filming, try and keep your clips to about four seconds and don’t zoom in or our out whilst filming and what Andy was politely trying to say, was our filming was ok, but we could do better, we were both grateful for the extra advice especially coming from the master.

It was an amazing four weeks in China. We made many new friends and got re-acquainted with old ones.  We found China and its people to be safe, friendly and inspiring. The majority of the Chinese people we met during our short stay were receptive, outgoing, friendly and charismatic and if there was one vision that typified the character of the Beijing people, it was when Monika and I witnessed a queue inside McDonalds at about 9pm, where half the waiting customers were wearing nothing but pyjamas and slippers and it didn’t matter, because nobody cared because it is the character and personalities of the ordinary people that makes china so appealing.

Simon, travelling (for just a short distance) along the Great Wall of China

How could we ever forget our visits to the Chinese wall, Forbidden city, Summer Palace and Temple of heaven all icons of the oriental east and as we departed Beijing we read in the free press the latest Government efforts to prevent access to the outside world, that the government was trying to ban internet search engines on China’s domestic computers and in the very same paper we read with amazement that according to government statistics, and this was a justification for banning motorcycles in the heart of Beijing, “That everybody who once owned a motorbike in 1989 had now died !!”.

 If there was a downside to this trip, it was not being allowed to enter the country with our BMW motor-bikes but hopefully now the Olympic Games have been awarded to China in 2008 there could be changes, even radical social reforms, which could mean that one day in the near future we could get a second bite of the cherry. Maybe, just maybe, in 2005?

 And so we departed on the direct train to Ulaanbaatar.  As we made our selves comfortable in the dining car, we heard from other passengers that the temperature in Mongolia was now below zero and that the Siberian winter had arrived.  Monika and I both looked at each other in horror, as we still had 2,000 miles to ride across Siberia to catch our ferry from Vladivostok to Japan.