Tianshan Hike Day 3: Pack it Out

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010 in: News

It’s amazing what a night on flat ground can do for you. Dan and I woke up and downed the last of our coffee reserves, skipping our customary oatmeal breakfast and breaking camp before the sun rose too high in the sky. Our trip had taken a new turn; whereas our hikes were solely up to our will and abilities, our return would rely on our ability to charm others into doing us a favor with no explicit reward: we were going to hitchhike back to town.

We followed the road as it wound its way down the valley. Several cars and trucks passed, but none were going in the right direction. One car headed toward the hills stopped and a few Chinese guys got out and greeted us as fellow outdoorsmen. They gestured to the our backpacks and asked if we’d just come from the mountains. Their goal was to find the emerald lake we spotted on our descent and return before nightfall. We asked if they had a map, which of course they didn’t. We did our best to describe the landscape to them, and said we weren’t sure if a dayhike to the lake was in the cards. They were determined to try, so we wished them well and saw them off.

Not long after, we caught sight of our first truck headed the right way, carrying a full load of stones from the quarry. We flagged him down and asked for a ride. He wasn’t going all the way to town, but he was happy to take us to the rock processing plant where the Kazakh siblings had dropped us off the other day. We thanked him and climbed aboard, grateful to get off our feet for a change. The driver was friendly, telling us about his family back in Sichuan province. “Do you have kids?” he asked. We both laughed before we realized it was a legitimate question, and responded that we didn’t, to our knowledge. He laughed and continued the small talk until we got back to the rock mill. We parked on a massive scale and hopped off. “Grab a seat in the office and we’ll try to arrange a ride for you back to town.” We felt like we’d hit the generosity jackpot, and we were soon in the cab of another truck bound for a Chaiwupu lake, where we could catch a bus back to Urumqi. Our new driver ran a tight ship. He was tight-lipped, and his cab was spotless. He wasn’t too thrilled to share his castle with two unwashed barbarians, but his boss was more than happy to force him to drive us into town. He drove almost excruciatingly slow, determined not to let anything happen to his precious cargo (the rocks, not us). We were happy for the ride, regardless of when it would get us to town. The landscape was as bleak and unpleasant as I’d remembered, like driving through Death Valley. We were just grateful we wouldn’t have to walk the remaining 15 kilometers through this flat, barren land.

The driver, despite his seriousness, was very kind and helpful. He responded to our inquiries with patience in a quiet tone, and dropped us off right where the bus would stop on its way to Urumqi. We thanked him and wiped our hand and footprints off the center console, a token gesture to show that we respected his truck and appreciated his help. He refused our offers to buy him lunch, and took off again at a leisurely pace. The bus wouldn’t be along for a while, so we ducked into a restaurant for half a chicken and some cold bottles of Coca Cola. After three days of oatmeal, dried fruit and cup noodles, it was an immensely satisfying meal. There’s nothing quite like deprivation to make you appreciate the simple things in life.

The bus ride back home was uneventful and relatively quick. It was only 4pm when we got back, and Vira (who’d just started working at the hostel) was waiting in reception, ready to hear all about our adventures. Dan disappeared to bathe and nap, and I set myself down to start chronicling the events that took us from Baiyanggou to Baiyanggou.

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