The desert just doesn't seem to end

This morning, at half past seven, I walked with my bicycle and luggage to a restaurant for breakfast, and then set off from there at 7:55 a.m.

I had a healthy amount of respect for the nearly 150 kilometers and 800 meters of climbing ahead in the high temperatures, so I decided to take it easy. Yet I wasn't slow at all. Even with very little force on the pedals, I was making excellent progress. There was hardly any wind, and the higher tire pressure probably helped as well. It's really strange that I didn't refill the air sooner—I had been thinking about doing it for a long time.

I also made it a point to take enough breaks, and today I actually followed through with that plan. After two hours of comfortable and relaxed riding, I took my first break. Along the roadside there were regular shaded shelters with benches. I assume they were bus stops.

After that, I continued along the wide road. I practically had one entire lane to myself, and there wasn't much traffic in the other two lanes either. Today I was no longer on the G312, which leads to Lanzhou, but on provincial roads S316 and S308. At least for most of the day. There was also one short detour onto small side roads and alongside an irrigation canal.

I took my second break beside the canal after four hours of riding. It was just a few kilometers before the biggest climb of the day—around 400 meters of elevation, which was about half of today's total ascent—up to an altitude of 2,170 meters above sea level. The beginning of the climb was the first moment when I really felt the heat. The road ran through something like a sunken lane, so it was sheltered from the wind. There was no cooling airflow from riding either, which made it feel especially hot. It also felt as though I was once again right in the middle of the desert. Wherever there is no artificial irrigation, this region is still extremely dry.

On the way up, I reached the six-hour mark, so I took another break. I was less than 100 meters of climbing away from the highest point and probably could have continued without stopping, but as I mentioned, I really wanted to stick to my plan of taking regular breaks today. And it certainly didn't do any harm.

A few kilometers after the highest point, I briefly thought, “Oh no,” because the road ahead was closed. But I immediately assumed that the two road workers would let me through, since cyclists can usually get through almost anywhere. And that's exactly what happened. They simply told me to be careful and ride slowly. I definitely followed the first part of that advice.

As for riding slowly, I wasn't too interested in that, because it was a fantastic descent. A sign said it was 23 kilometers long, although I'm saving the last three kilometers for tomorrow. I had the road almost entirely to myself. Over those 20 kilometers, only one car and two trucks came from the opposite direction. So, with barely any pedaling and my heart rate almost at resting level, I often rolled downhill at 40 to 50 km/h until I reached my accommodation at 3:45 p.m. By the way, I didn't actually see any roadworks—just another roadblock at the end of the supposedly affected section.

So those nearly 150 kilometers today weren't such a big deal after all. One thing I've noticed is that the stages I respect the most beforehand often don't actually feel like the hardest ones. That's probably because I take especially good care of myself on those days: I make sure to ride slowly, drink enough, eat enough, and take sufficient breaks. I could really do the same on the shorter, less demanding stages too. I'm still working on that. Knowing what's good for me and actually doing it are two different things—I'm sure everyone knows that feeling. For me, for example, it's also going to bed early. Well then: good night.