Rock Climbing Wall

A Silk Road Trip, or I Gobbed in the Gobi, China,1992, by Philip Spires

In August 1992, myself and my wife, Caroline, arranged a trip to post-Tiananmen China. It was in the days when the London China Travel office was on Cambridge Circus, opposite the Palace Theatre on Charing Cross Road. It took me at least twenty books, a late-night Japanese television series and several months to plan and arrange the trip from what was then our base in Balham, south London. In those days, you could arrange the visit via China Travel and then, as long as the itinerary was lodged in advance, you could travel absolutely independently. Everything was pre-paid, but on setting off, we had no tickets or confirmed reservations apart from our air tickets in and out of Beijing. As ever, I kept a journal of the trip, which ran to more than fifty pages. A few years later, I condensed the experience to two sides of A4, ignoring rules of grammar and syntax, and produced the following ramble, a perhaps poetic impression of nearly a month of travel.

Ex-London while the Sun dissected Michael Jackson’s nose and praised Boardman’s hooterless gold-medal bicycle. Air China to Beijing, where taxis cost more than Lonely Planet predicts. A Chinese character itinerary from one Tim Han of China Travel whilst fellow workers drool over televised lithe Afro-American sprinters at the Olympics. Then to the no-longer Forbidden City. Piles of local tourists to negotiate.

Four hours of Xinjiang Airlines to Urumqi. Signs in Chinese and Russian plus Uigur written in Arab script (a recent innovation). Land lines across Inner Mongolia. Why and how so straight? Urumqi multiple-peaked. Piles of coal, scruffy high rise, snow-capped Bogda Shen at street-end. Pavement fortune tellers, traders. Food stalls. Women washing sheeps’ stomachs in a stream, tripe kebabs. Uigur town now Han Chinese, populated by Shanghai overspill, over 2000 miles from ‘home’. The second long march.

Uigur breakfast. Hot sheep’s milk, Chinese tea, flat tomato bread, sugared tomato and cucumber, pickled cabbage, thin congee, sheep’s milk butter, two giant sugar lumps. Uigur market. Fruits amid a forest of hanging lamb. Chinese market. Live vegetables and meats. Tank over-spilling with energetic eels (unit price). Self-knotting spaghetti.

Woman losing her gold watch at an illegal ‘find the lady’. Policeman looking on. Tears when the loss hits home. Renmin Park for noodles and rocket-fuel chili sauce. Bag slashers with finger-ring knives on a crowded bus. Care needed.

Car to Turfan. Fertile valleys. Barren mountains. Occasional snow. Road ploughed. Kazak yurts. Semi-sunken shade-making rammed-earth Uigur villages, invisible at a distance save for chimney smoke. Steep downhill gorge, spectacular river, rocks, white water and slate-grey hills. Into Turfan depression, snow-capped distance surrounding grey stone pit 100 miles across. 42 degrees at its base, 200 metres below sea level. Car ahead leaving tracks on molten road. A hefty gob from the driver irrigates. Gobi means stones. Plenty here. And then green. An oasis. A giant mirage?

Turfan. Latticed vines for street-shade. Hanging raisin grapes. 15 yuan fine for casual picking. Hotel tea in galvanised buckets. Turkish-style dancing and music. Genghiz-sacked rammed-earth cities of Goachang and Jiaohe. Painted tombs and brick minarets. Flaming mountains. Karez underground irrigation system. 3000 kilometres of channels. 1500 years old, gravity-fed from mountains at the depression-edge. Uigur culture’s greatest feat, and in full working order.

Bus to Daheyan. Two hours over bumpy stones to depression-edge. Dump of a railway town. Coal heaps, box buildings, waste land. Two women at war on station forecourt. Ramming victim’s head onto the ground. Blood. Onlookers. Inaction. A tense town of resentful postees.

500 miles to Liuyuan in Gansu. Featureless flat grey shale stone. Spectacularly unique. Snow mountains to the north. Utterly empty, save for smoking coal towns. 40 above in summer, 30 below in winter. Overnight by train. Dawn reveals same massive scene, now in brown.

Arrive Liuyuan. Daheyan writ similar. 120 miles south across the desert (black at first!), past remnant ramparts of Han Dynasty Greater-Great Wall. Camels and dunes of Taklimakan, world’s largest sand desert. Near Dunhuang oasis blossoms again. Sand and scree suddenly crop and tree. Feitian Hotel, with complimentary toiletries labelled Sham Poo and Foam Poo. Lunch. Fourteen dishes. Duck, foo-yong, cucumber, cabbage, oyster mushroom chicken, coriander pork, steamed buns, steamed bread, rice, beef broth and noodles, pork and green beans, pork and sweet chili, chicken and squash, plain noodles, water melon. Then to get the essential torch for the caves. Houses huddled together. Wood stores for winter piled on top. View across the roofs like a scrap heap. Ground level claustrophobic stoneware maze.

Cave day. Mogao Buddhist caves – closed from 12 to 2, full day needed for perhaps the most stunning sight on earth. 400 ‘caves’ (some cathedral size) in a sandstone gorge, between 400 AD to 1100 AD. Utterly dry, always dark, perfectly preserved. Everything painted. Tang period complex and colourful. A world of scenes by torchlight. Buddhas reclining, sitting, standing, posing. Thirty metre seated figure with thousands of unsmoked cigarettes and coins on his lap as offerings. Shock of Qing-renovated cave with Taoist figures. Ghoulish features, contorted, and a face in the groin. 40 caves seen in the day, archaeologist as a personal guide. Stunning. Fourteen dishes for dinner.

Desert bus back to Liuyuan. Always a fight for seats. Three dusty hours. Train to Lanzhou. 800 miles along Gansu-Qinghai mountainous border. More black desert, then yellow earth. Jaiyaguan fort at the limit of the Ming empire. Overnight by train. Country changed. Mountain pass, green rolling hills and stepped fields. Wheat harvest in. Straw dollies like children at assembly. Houses still of rammed earth. Lanzhou a thriving industrial city. Thirty hours of travel. Walk by Yellow River.

Fish in hotel restaurant tank all dead. Lanzhou bus expensive. 50 fen per trip. Radios and knitting banned. Han dynasty flying horse and bronze warriors. Steamed carp with rape on menu. The fish comes first. Train to Xian through yellow loess country. Deep furrows and gorges. All flat land cropped. 500 miles overnight.

Terra cotta warriors facing east to guard Qin Shihuang’s tomb. Made in pieces. Assembled in situ. Partly excavated section where piles of dismembered limbs emerge from the earth. New terra cotta warriors for sale from the factory behind the museum. Exact replicas of originals. Wheeze at the thought of the whole thing as a sham for the tourist trade.

Xian, like all Chinese cities, a square. Roads straight, intersecting always at right angles. Ancient centre walled, Ming rebuilt. Old mosque exquisite. Xianyang nearby, with Seventh century Qian tombs, museum with another 3000 Han terra cottas like a football crowd. Train to Beijing. 800 miles, 26 hours. Houses often caves in valley side. Later immense flat land, maize everywhere.

Temple of Heaven, Tiantan, and then Beijing Opera. Pause for beer at wayside stall. Served by moonlighting trainee stockbroker! Breakfast pickle amazing, like four year old camembert out of a shotgun. Takes the head off. Great Wall. Mucho touristico, but still stunning. Like climbing a giant ladder in places. “I climbed the Great Wall” T-shirts, prices lower the further you climb. Must be the air. Ming tombs dismissed by guide-book. Wrong. Amazing barrel vaulted rooms nine stories underground. Jade doors, carved thrones, marble, marble, marvel. Reminiscent of renaissance Italy. Everlasting bricks etched with names of their makers. Souvenir jade boat for 55000 pounds.

White drapes over erotic statues in Tibetan Lama Temple. Same bestial content in wall paintings. 24 metre gold Buddha through the incense-blur. No smoking signs everywhere.

Mao’s Maosoleum an emperor’s tomb. Lines for queues painted across the square. Feet pointing north towards Tiananmen Gate, upside-down feng shui. He is shiny, waxy and painted about the face. Moving lines file past on either side. No pausing. Outside, stalls with Mao T-shirts, Mao key rings, cuddly toys, post cards, magic lantern shows. Mao Zedong candy floss by the armful. Then Great Hall of the People. Dining room for 5000. Now fast food for tourists. Great Hall chop sticks, cigarettes, T-shirts. Great Hall of the People cuddly toys.

2500 miles. Three and a half weeks. 5 destinations. 50 caves. 6000 terra cotta warriors. 1 each Great Wall, Forbidden City, Beijing Opera, Mao Zedong. Hundreds of tombs, temples, pagodas, parks, bendi-buses and bicycles. 3 silk shirts on the Silk Road. One amazing trip.

Horse Riding to Machu Picchu

Horse Riding Holiday to Machu Picchu

I could have found lots of reasons why I shouldn’t take up the offer to ride to Machu Picchu in Peru. The obvious one being the distance from home, but even as I composed my ‘how kind of you to offer me such a wonderful opportunity but unfortunately I will sadly have to decline’ email, a niggling doubt ate at the back of my mind. Yes, it was miles away, and I would be travelling alone but I had always wanted to visit Machu Picchu and the chance to visit the heart of The Inca Empire on horseback, could anyone have written me a better script? Just as the Spanish conquistadors must have felt all those years ago the lure of the Inca’s grew stronger, so, one rainy Monday night in England with the newspapers spilling over with news of worldwide economic disaster I opened my laptop and booked my ticket to a journey of a lifetime.

Six days later I flew Manchester-Amsterdam-Lima aboard a KLM jet and later that same night I arrived in Lima. A flower market dedicated to the cultivation of orchids was in full swing in the main square and I mingled with the locals as they vied to negotiate for sacks of rich soil, fertilisers and orchid plants. Maybe it was the effects of a 12 hour flight or maybe it was the heady aroma of orchids that made me feel quite giddy with excitement in this new and exotic city.

I was up early the next morning, not surprisingly due to the 6 hour time difference, and I was keen to explore the city a little more before my afternoon flight to Cusco (capital city of The Inca Empire).  At this time of the morning the shops were still closed so I strolled down to the park which overlooks the Ocean and watched the early morning surfers attempting to dominate the unforgiving Pacific waves. A beautiful sculpture of lovers entwined is a popular venue for proposals in the city and the many plaques that surround it bear testimony to the happiness it has so obviously prompted. By lunchtime I found myself hurrying back to the hotel to pack up my belongings and to wave good bye to this colourful city. Later that day I was landing in Cusco and my long journey from England was looking more and more worth while! I was greeted by my hosts with the warmth and generosity of character that had become for me, to typify this wonderful country. As my bags were stowed securely in the minibus we exchanged greetings and headed off towards our evening destination.

The day starts early in Peru but this caused me no problem as my body was still firmly resisting the change to its internal clock. Today we were journeying to the ranch were the horses live close to the small town of Moyapata. After visiting the cosmopolitan city of Lima and then the cultural capital of Cusco, Moyapata represented for me what I had imagined the ‘real’ Peru to be. Simple houses, narrow streets and a crowded village square filled with inquisitive locals queuing to buy their breakfast from entrepreneurial villagers who arrived with large canteens full of hot food that they served at the roadside. Another forward thinking local had converted a room in his house into an internet café and as I sent my first emails home five young boys crowded around the computer next to mine playing enthusiastically on ‘Grand Theft Auto’…..is there no escape from internet games!

The stables were located along a bumpy track just outside of the town and here I met Ricardo the stable manager and his trusty assistant Arturo. They worked quickly and skilfully tacking up six horses in the time that it takes me to tack up one in England. The horses were mainly quarter horses all in good shape with glistening coats and a twinkle in their eye. We were skilfully allocated our steed for the next five days and I took some time to acquaint myself with Fulmini who was actually the only thoroughbred and whose mother had been successful on the race track in Lima before changing occupation to brood mare. Bearing this in mind and furnished with the further information that his name comes from the word fulminar which is roughly translated as ‘explosion from a gun’ I had the feeling that keeping up with the others was not going to be a problem for me!

The owner of the horses and of the lodges where we would be staying during our trip, was accompanying us throughout the ride and with his signal to proceed we set out on what was to be the most memorable journey I have ever made. Enrique, the owner, had had a vision for this expedition, as a keen skier he had often looked at the mountain lodges around the world and thought…..and why not in Peru? Today we rode north west towards the first mountain lodge and for the first time I began to look on the mountainous terrain in the same way as the Inca people must have gazed upon it 500 years ago. The tracks that we rode along were stony and rough but the horses made little of the rocks and boulders placing their hooves with exacting precision in just the right spot.

As we cantered along the mountain roadways, Enrique pointed out the old Inca irrigation channels which could clearly be seen cut into the mountain side on the opposite side of the valley. As the altitude increased my energy levels decreased, but the altitude had no such effect on Fulmini and as I became less and less effective in the saddle he gently took control, I could almost feel him raising an eyebrow and saying ‘another tourist!’ Just as I began to feel the first real effects of altitude sickness seeping into my body, thankfully the lodge came into view. Enrique’s vision was a reality, we had arrived at the Peruvian equivalent of an upmarket Colorado skiing lodge. Only the local staff, who were gathered outside to meet us, gave away our true destination. Like Fulmini, they too understood the needs of ‘rooky tourists’ and they greeted us with mugs of steaming ‘Mate de Coca’ a special tea prepared by the locals from coca leaves that is renowned for warding off the effects of high altitude. Ricardo and Arturo immediately slipped back into their well rehearsed professionalism and the reins of the horses were whisked away from the riders as we were ushered into our Inca Palace. The Lodge had been constructed with all the bespoke elegance that this period of history evokes, golden Inca masks adorned the walls and it was easy to let yourself become completely engulfed in this luxurious setting.

The following morning we rode out in the surrounding area of Soraypampa. Our aim was to visit the Humantay Lake which is fed by a glacier far above on the slopes of Humantay mountain. My horse appeared as fresh and as keen to set out as the day before and as we scrabbled up river beds climbing ever higher up the mountain I wondered what my horse at home in England would make of this adventure. The local’s scratch a meager living from these unforgiving slopes, the animals they own graze on the sparse vegetation, scrabbling up high on impossible slopes to reach every last piece of edible greenery. Their life is hard in the winter months but I couldn’t help but think that the freedom of their life here in the mountains was preferable to the regimented life of our farm animals back home. As we rode ever higher mules, donkeys, ponies and cows viewed us with languid eyes before continuing on their daily task of foraging.

The Inca’s considered glacial lakes to be the ‘eyes’ of the mountain and it was easy to understand why as I stood gazing upon the impossibly turquoise lake which appeared to be blinking at me from its mountain hideaway. To show respect to the mountain Gods the Inca’s would build apachetas (stone piles) and today walkers carry on with this tradition asking for safe passage as they trek high up in The Andes.

This evening we stayed in the same lodge to give us chance to acclimatize to the altitude, I was still drinking mate de coca tea as if it was going out of fashion and I hoped that there was no shortage of coca leaves in this region.

The following day we headed off for the second lodge in our quest to reach the enchanted city of Machu Picchu. High in the mountains the air was cold, the clouds wrapped themselves like white wool blankets across the mountain tops and today we were warned the temperatures would drop. We were riding across a mountain pass between two of the most sacred Inca Mountains, we could expect temperatures of minus five degrees including the wind chill factor. Our benevolent host, having taken pity on his poorly clad guests had given me a wonderful hand woven poncho the night before. The locals pride themselves on the quality of their textiles, all the colours are made from local plant extracts and I felt myself gradually slipping into the rhythm of mountain life as I pulled the poncho over my head.

The horses gradually climbed up along the narrow mountain tracks stepping effortlessly over fallen rocks and negotiating gaps in between boulders that would leave the average British goat quaking in its shoes. I learnt to trust my valiant thoroughbred, he knew more about these mountain pathways than me, so I accepted that my job was to sit as quietly and lightly as I could in his armchair saddle. As the rain began to fall, we all pulled on our waterproof capes and as I turned to take a photograph of the group it struck me that we could easily be taken for a set from The Lord of the Rings, when Frodo travels high into the mountains of Mordor to rid himself of the treacherous ring.

As we reached the highest point of the pass we paused to make an offering to the mountain god and as we cast our gift of coca leaves into the wind we each made our own personal wish. The guide explained that the stronger your belief then the more likely it was that your wish would be heard. I concentrated as hard as I could wishing that the peace of the mountains may be with me and with my loved ones forever. The horses seemed oblivious to the cold and as we headed down towards the second lodge they strode onwards with unfaltering steps. The lodge had sent the chef into the mountains to meet us, he had set up camp about 2 km from the lodge and a hot meal was awaiting us inside a cosy tent. As we ate a traditional Peruvian beef stew I giggled a bit as the rain beat down on the canvas it was a bit like a traditional British summer camping weekend in Wales.

The second lodge was my favourite, its theme being the religion and spiritualism of this region and as every day passed in my new mountain home I felt closer and closer to the tremendous force of nature that this environment exudes from every rock and plant.

The following day we were heading down the mountain again and as if by magic the harsh rocky scenery of the mountain pass changed into the cloud forest jungle. The temperatures soared, I was shedding layers of clothing with every step, orchids appeared on both sides of the track. I felt as if I had just changed continents. The owner of the lodges and horses, Enrique, is passionate about this area, through a scheme he has developed which is called Yanapana he plans to eradicate poverty in this area in the next 10 years. He employs only local people in the lodges, including the managers who are trained at his first lodge on the coast for up to three months. He encourages the local farmers to grow fresh produce for the lodges’ kitchens and he has a rota of employment for the local mule drivers. Twice a year a group of doctors and dentists from Lima and Cusco travel out to the remotest mountain villages to hold clinics with the families, some of which will never have seen a medic before.

Today we were visiting another of his projects, a small local school high in the mountains above the lodge where we would be staying that night. As the horses valiantly struggled to scramble up narrow rocky pathways, Enrique explained that many of the children walked this route everyday from the local villages, taking 2 hours each day to reach school and then a further two hours to return home in the afternoon. I thought about the X Box generation back home in Britain who can barely walk 5 minutes to the bus stop and wondered about how we could reach a ‘happy medium’. Eventually, just as I thought we would never reach the school I heard children’s voices drifting through the jungle high above my head. Around the next bend two smiling teachers appeared with a small group of pupils whom they were accompanying down to the river, we stopped to exchange news.

As we continued towards the school more excited children ran to greet us, they were so proud of their school that they wanted to accompany us and one or two of them hitched a ride on the back of our saddles. The school itself was a simple building but as I peered in the windows I could see the walls adorned with pupil’s work and knew that Enrique’s’ work had not been in vain.

That evening we stayed in a wonderful lodge perched high above the confluence of three rivers. The view was truly breath taking I almost had to pinch myself to believe that I could be surrounded by such dramatic beauty. That evening we dined on Pachamancha, a traditional dish cooked under the ground on hot stones.

The following day, I knew that my heart would be heavy, as this was our last day of riding. Our trail would end as the start on The Inca Trail upon which horses are banned. I was determined to make the most of my last few hours with Fulmini, I had developed such a strong bond with this valiant little thoroughbred and I sincerely hoped that he felt the same about me. As I climbed onto his back I could feel the warmth of his body through the saddle, it felt like home. We continued heading down the mountain following the river valley, as some points we dismounted and led our horses as the track narrowed. Eventually we reaches the small town of La Playa, as usual the whole village came out to greet us and I felt like a celebrity as I proudly rode along the narrow streets. As we left the town the road sloped up gently and the horses sprang forward into canter glad to have left the mountainous terrain and keen to stretch their legs! We raced along the broad pathways, our spirits soaring and out hearts racing in time to our horses’ hooves. As the path swooped to the right it was time to slow, we had reached the Inca Trail and now we finally had to bid farewell to our noble companions.

The following day we exchanged four legs for two as we hiked 900 metres uphill through the cloud forest to steal our first view across the valley of Machupicchu. The splendour of this scenery is something that will stay with me my whole life, words just cannot describe the unbelievable majesty of these mountains. After lunch we began our descent, we dropped over 1000 metres down to the river and then headed along the river bank towards a small train station where we would catch the train to Aguas Calientes, the town at the foot of Machupicchu.

The next day was my birthday and it is certainly one that I will remember forever. What better gift than a visit to one of the world’s most splendid architectural and cultural sites. As I walked amongst the Incan Temples the tremendous energy of this remarkable site seeped into my bones and I felt my spirits soar as the condors soared in the skies above me.

As I flew home towards England the following evening I tried to put some order to my memories of the past 10 days. What would I hold closest to my heart? The breath taking mountain scenery, the beautiful orchid flowers of the cloud forest, the cascading water of the tremendous rivers or the spiritual majesty of Machupicchu……no, I’m afraid I have to stay true to my heart, for me it was the flaming chestnut coat and the gentle patient eyes of my handsome sure footed Fulmini who had nobly carried me on this journey of a lifetime.  

Cruise Vacations vs. Ordinary Vacations

Cruise vacations are becoming more and more popular with each passing year. Years ago cruises were viewed as the ultimate luxury vacation, only enjoyed by the fabulously wealthy, or by cruise groups of senior citizens who had been saving for a cruise all of their lives. These days, quite the opposite is true. The cost of a seven day cruise vacation is comparable to a seven day vacation on to many other land destinations, especially when you consider all of the extras and inclusions that you get on an all-inclusive cruise vacation. Below are a few examples of how cruise vacations differ from the normal vacation getaway.

Cost of Cruise Vacations vs. Ordinary Vacations

When dealing with the cost of a vacation, a cruise vacation compares very favorably with most land-based vacations. When you book a cruise vacation, your fee’s will include your lodging, all of your meals, as well as many daily activities that would cost extra if you took a typical land-based vacation. On land vacations you usually initially just pay for travel and hotel, having to add on daily meals and extra activities.  Once you start factoring in the cost of gasoline for travel, restaurant meals and admission fees to parks and other excursions, you almost always come out ahead by booking a cruise instead.

The Food is Fabulous!

When you go on a non-cruise vacation, you are usually on your own as far as food is concerned. Since you will be eating at various restaurants, you are at the mercy of a different chef every time, and you can never be sure of the quality of the service or the food. On cruise ships, however, the food is considered one of the best aspects of the entire trip. You will have plenty of choices for your meals from traditional dining room fare to pizza and burgers at a dockside café. You can literally graze your way through the entire day, starting with poolside breakfast buffets and ending with a midnight snack in a cozy bistro or in your room. You will never go hungry on a cruise, for anytime you need food it will be there for you.

And Then There is the Service…

Your cruise staff is dedicated to ensuring that you are treated like royalty the entire time you are under their care. Eating in the ship’s dining room is comparable to dining at a world-class restaurant. The service is cheerful, impeccable, and very friendly. If you are unhappy at all with your meal, they will happily return it to the kitchen and bring you anything else you desire.  If you have special dietary considerations, the kitchen will know about them beforehand and will have made arrangements to honor them. You are not a customer on the ship, instead you are considered an honored guest.

The glorious pampering continues outside the dining room as well. You will find chocolates on your pillow at night, and your coffee made just the way you like it when you sit down to the table at breakfast. After one night your dedicated wait staff will know you and your family, including your likes and dislikes. If you want anything at all, all you need to do is locate a cruise attendant and chances are they will arrange for it to be delivered to you as soon as possible.

Cruises Make Vacationing Easy

Remember those long car rides with your children in the back seat poking each other and growing crankier the longer you were in the car? You will never have to worry about that on a cruise vacation. No maps, no counting the miles to the next bathroom stop, no looking around for a decent restaurant or the next McDonald’s on the side of the road. When you are on a cruise, all the planning is done for you. All you have to do is sit back and relax, and decide which of the dozens of activities they have to offer you want to enjoy.

Cruise ships offer an incredible variety of activities to participate in. The newest ships are floating resort cities. You can drift from activity to activity depending on your mood and vacation style. Even better, cruise vacations offer something for everyone. If you have ever tried to put together a vacation that will please your sports-loving husband, your adventurous son, your shopaholic daughter, and your own delight in experiencing the best foods of the world, you will really appreciate a cruise vacation. Your kids can enjoy a morning at a deck side water park complete with water slides and wave pools while you relax at the shipboard spa with a top-of-the-line massage. You can golf, gamble, hike, and climb rock walls all before you even add in the on-shore excursions.

Whether you choose a leisurely cruise to smaller islands, or an adventurous cruise that takes you on a tour of the Alaskan coast, a cruise vacation simply ca not be beat for cost, convenience or pure fun. When you book a cruise vacation, you are booking an exciting getaway where the world does not interfere with all of its troubles and inconveniences.

If you have never considered a cruise before, this is the year to check it out. With the economic turmoil, most cruise lines are going all out to offer tempting deals to attract vacationers of all kinds. Shop around online and take a look at all the options and advantages that a cruise vacation offers.