Duku Highway

This morning, my legs were sore, but I know that feeling well from marathon running—it’s the anticipation. The phenomenon has even been scientifically documented. My legs were actually fine, because when I set off shortly before 9 a.m., everything felt relaxed and I was able to pedal up the big climb of nearly 1,200 vertical meters to the pass at 3,450 m above sea level without much effort.

The scenery was spectacular, and I took a great many photos. The police were busy managing the heavy traffic and paid absolutely no attention to me. It was the second consecutive day that I did not have to show my passport even once.

Even before reaching the highest point of the day—and probably of my entire journey—I encountered the first fully loaded cyclist. Or rather, he came flying down the valley past me. Throughout the day, I met several more cyclists, but apart from the one I met right at the top near the tunnel, our interactions were limited to exchanging shouts of “Jiayou!” (“Keep it up!”).

I chatted for a while with the cyclist at the pass—I had taken a little over three hours to get there—and he took some photos of me. I told him how beautiful it was, and he simply replied, “Just wait until you ride through the tunnel. It’s even more beautiful on the other side.” And he was absolutely right.

The mountains today were breathtaking. I found it fascinating that people had managed to build a road through such terrain. I could only partly enjoy the very long descent because there was simply too much traffic. Some drivers would overtake me, only to slow me down again at the next corner where I could actually go faster than they could. That started to irritate me, so I began overtaking as well. At least when it came to those motorists who seemed to be driving in the mountains for the first time and were creeping downhill, overtaking them usually gave me some peace and open road for a while. Still, I had to restrain myself because safety remains the top priority, while the fun of speeding downhill comes second.

The real challenge of the day, however, was not the first and higher pass, but the final climb about 40 km before Dushanzi, where another 600 vertical meters awaited me. That was still half the size of the first major climb. By then, my legs were no longer as fresh as they had been in the morning, and neither was the weather. It had been pleasantly cool earlier, but now it was quite hot. Nevertheless, I made it over this pass without any major problems.

During the final 30-kilometre descent, I could really feel the heat increasing. Whenever I had to stop and lost the cooling effect of the wind—once because a large flock of sheep was crossing the road—I immediately noticed how hot it actually was.

In the end, I arrived safely at my accommodation in Dushanzi, which lies at about 760 m above sea level. I was somewhat tired, but it was also already close to 6 p.m., meaning I had been on the road for nine hours. Whether today’s elevation gain was really 2,353 m, I’m not entirely sure, because my bike computer has shown 0 meters of climbing ever since I entered China. The figure of 2,353 m is Strava’s estimate based on map data. Still, it must have been at least 2,000 m, considering the two major climbs alone accounted for 1,200 and 600 vertical meters, and there were also several uphill sections during the second half of the first descent.

For now, though, I am leaving the mountains behind. I’m also confident that I’ll be able to reach Ürümqi before my friends arrive on Saturday. After all, there are only about 250 mostly flat kilometres left, which I could easily cover in two days. We’ll see whether I decide to take a rest day tomorrow after today’s long effort.