DéVélotour

Oil threat bypasses Baikal to re-emerge further East

Gośka Romanowicz — 2008-10-05T21:20:00Z


Oil continues to be transported by train along Baikal's coast - safer than the pipeline, activists say

As we finally arrive by on the lake's shores, this time the long way around by bicycle, we find it unspoilt - largely thanks to the courageous work of NGOs and the involvement of the general public. Following years of protests, the ESPO (East Siberia - Pacific Ocean) pipeline has been diverted to the north and is now being constructed 50km from the lake's shore, instead of under 1km - enough to greatly reduce the oil spill threat. An oil spill could have destroyed all life in this enormous lake, the world's biggest freshwater reservoir and home to hundreds of species not found anywhere else on the planet, including the world's only freshwater seal.

Jennie Sutton of the local Baikal Wave NGO thinks that the pipeline route was changed thanks to "very large demonstrations in Irkutsk" among other factors. "I was so proud of the people of Irkutsk," she says, explaining that to demonstrate in Russia is more risky than it is in the West. A recent attack on the Baikal Wave NGO, which had its offices ransacked and its computers and data destroyed, is a case in point.

We first visited Jennie in July 2005, at a time when combating the ESPO oil pipeline was the focus of Baikal Wave's activities (see "Oil pipeline that could kill lake Baikal edges closer"). At the time, it was hard to believe that a coalition of insignificant locals would succeed in convincing the Russian government to divert the pipeline. "This is the real triumph," says Jennie. "People had lost faith in their own significance"- and they now feel their actions can make a difference.

But although the Baikal has been saved, this may be at the price of the great Siberian river Lena which the new pipeline route crosses, Jennie Sutton says. Environmental activists in Yakutia, where the pipeline will cut across the Lena, are now fighting to change the pipeline plans yet again. As the inhabitants of the Baikal region before them, they are afraid of oil spilling into the water. But this time the issue is not the route but the method used to carry the oil across the river: activists want the pipeline to pass through a tunnel under the riverbed, a safer but more costly alternative to the planned method that involves laying the pipe in an unprotected trench cut directly into the riverbed.

The problem lies in the severity of the local climate - melting river ice in the spring can rip up whole chunks of riverbed, and would have no trouble doing the same to a pipeline. On top of this, the pipeline will cross the Lena in a seismic zone. Campaigners therefore urge the pipeline construction company, Transneft, to fork out the extra 40% in river crossing costs and opt for the tunnel crossing to improve environmental safety. For the Save Lena coalition of activists, the ESPO underwater crossing of the Lena is nothing but an "oil bomb,” because "the effect of oil spills on this river - one of the longest and clearest rivers in the world, which nourishes an area comparable to the European Union - can be as destructive."

"This is not an action against the ESPO pipeline, but for the safety of the ESPO," they stress. It remains to be seem whether they will be listened to.

Back in France, we hear more good news for Lake Baikal after the succesful diversion of the ESPO. The Baïkalsk paper mill that had been the main source of industrial pollution into the lake shut down in October, most likely for good. The mill, controlled by Russia's richest man, Oleg Deripaska, closed due to financial problems. The exact causes are unclear, but the mill, dating back to the 1960s, was in need of general modernisation. A recent investment in an environmentally-friendly closed-loop water system could only have worsened its short-term financial woes, and the financial crisis seems to have done the rest. Despite local job losses, the result for the wider Baikal area is definitely encouraging - the closure of the mill puts an end to decades of dioxins and other toxic chemicals flowing untreated into the lake.

More detailed information on the ESPO pipeline can be found in Goska's journalism thesis article, "Oil pipeline that could kill Baikal edges closer".

For more information on eco-tourism in the Baikal region as an alternative path of development see Goska's other thesis article, "Baikal balances between eco-tourism and eco-disaster".

For information from local NGOs see:

Baikal Wave

Save Lena River

Eyge NGO, member of the Save Lena River coalition

Across the Gobi to the Trans-Siberian

Gośka Romanowicz, Hervé Bonnaveira — 2008-08-01T04:36:00Z

Direct link to our latest news from Russia


Red line shows the end of our cycle journey, yellow line - the beginning of our return by train.

Mongolia: the land of dreams

Good to be free again! No more troubles with the police here - Mongolians are a relaxed nation. Since 1990, Mongolia said goodbye to communism and chose democracy. Our site is no longer blocked and we are free to update it. A big thank you to Santiago, Thierry, Renata and Basia who helped us with the updates in China. Our route across the land of Genghiz Khan takes in the Gobi desert, the mountains and lakes of the North, and a lot of wilderness. Travel conditions are quite difficult: wind, sand storms, roads in bad condition (or no road at all), lack of tourist infrastructure (no shower at the hotel). But meeting Mongolians, both sedentary and nomadic, and experiencing their hospitality makes up for everything.

Gobi desert: full of surprises

– 3 June: Crossing into Mongolia at Zamyn Uud.
Just a few kilometres separate the Chinese town of Erlian and Zamyn Uud, its Mongolian neighbour. But the problems begin when the Chinese border guard refuses us entry: “Bicycles forbidden! Go back! Mongol bus!” They continue at the train station where bad-tempered officials tell us to send our bikes in a cargo coach. A bit later we load our bikes and bags into the trunk of a jeep, but lose patience with the driver who takes us around town for an hour looking for other customers, all the time promising to leave in five minutes. But all these bad experiences don't manage to spoil our entry into Mongolia. At either side of the border we find a friendly guide. In Erlian it's Unensaikhan, a Mongolian traveler who speaks perfect German and English, who gives us directions for the bus station where we finally find a way of getting across the border. Once on the Mongolian side in Zamyn Uud we are lucky to meet Sarah, a young and dynamic Mongolian girl whose mother is a circus performer in South Africa – hence her perfect English. Thanks to Sarah, buying a ticket and leaving our bikes at the left luggage storeroom is a piece of cake. It's funny how short encounters can transform your travel experience, especially when you're feeling lost as you enter a new country.


Goska with Sarah, our first friend in Mongolia, at the border (Zamyn Uud, Mongolia)

– 4 - 5 June: By train to Ulaan Baatar and back to get our Russian visas.
This first attempt to obtain the elusive Russian visa ends in failure: the rules have changed recently and it's now very difficult to get a Russian visa at an embassy outside of your home country. We take the night train back to our bikes in Zamyn Uud, and wonder how on earth we'll get into Russia.

– 6 - 10 June: Zamyn-Uud to Sainshand.
As soon as we're out of town, the tarmac ends abruptly and the washboard track starts. We are well prepared for the desert this time: 20 litres of water on our bikes, food for 3 days. The landscape gets drier and barer as we move closer to the heart of the desert. The single dirt track disperses into many diverging trails as each vehicle traces its own route across the sand and pebbles. On the second day we take a detour of around 20km to get water from the railside village of Ulaan Uul (Erdene). A new road is being constructed that will link the capital with the Chinese border - the Chinese workers building it told us it should be finished in 2009, although, unfortunately for us, not much has been done so far. Arriving in the town of Sainshand, which looks big on the map, we discover a little concrete town surrounded by hundreds of yurts. When we find out that a room with a shower costs $40 we decide that we prefer to save water and wash in a basin like the locals.


Our first meeting with camels (Zamyn-Ud, Mongolia)


Strong wind against us ! (Ulaan Uul, Mongolia)


Yurt suburbs (Saynshand, Mongolia)

– 12 - 15 June: In the middle of the desert!
According to the two American walkers we met earlier, the tarmac should begin after Choir. As we're only 200km from Choir, we feel as if we're almost there. Wrong - the desert is only just beginning, and it's as full of surprises as ever. It throws us into a sandstorm on a day that started with clear blue skies, at 25km from the next inhabited place (the usual three-house village). The sand on the track and the wind force us to push our bikes, sometimes over thorny plants, and we end up with two flat tyres (including one whith 8 holes to repair!). The night falls but it's impossible to put up the tent because of the wind. We decide to continue on foot for the last 5km before the village - at 4km an hour against the sand and wind. Fortunately for us, the driver of an empty bus stops takes pity on us and offers us a lift. He leaves us in front of the three houses where we are warmly welcomed by the owners of the village shop. They feed us and invite us to sleep with the whole family of 4 in a shed next to the house - for some reason only the grand-father sleeps in the big brick house where we ate our dinner. The rest of the road to Choir is very sandy, the skies overcast. Near Shivigovee, the desert surprises us again with a short-lasting but heavy downpour.

See “Mongolia: life in an extreme habitat”.


Following the railway (Dalanjargalan, Mongolia)


Unexpected rain in the desert (Shiveegovi, Mongolia)


Long live the tarmac! (Choyr, Mongolia)

– 16 - 19 June: desert to mountainous steppe.
Once on the asphalt, we move fast at 100km a day. A new sand storm catches up with us and we find refuge in an empty house opened for us by a villager. The land here begins to fold into hills spattered with patches of green, as springs become more and more frequent. At 90km from Ulaan Baatar, we decide to leave the main road to see Eej Had, the sacred "Mother Rock" surrounded by majestic granite outcrops. We then stop at the monastery of Manzushir Khiid, where we see the first Mongolian forest. Although this time the desert is finished for good, more adventures await us before Ulaan Baatar. Goska's derailer gets bent and gets in between the spokes. Then it's time for the chain, already very used, which breaks a few kilometres later. We are lucky to find a new derailer for sale in the corner of a clothes shop in the small town of Zuunmod!


The sacred "Mother Rock" (Eej Had, Mongolia)


Just like the Swiss Alps with yurts (Zuunmod, Monmgolia)

– 20 - 26 June: Ulaan Baatar
After a two-week journey through the tranquil countryside of desert and steppe, Ulaan Baatar shocks us with its concrete, its aggression, and most of all its twisted bureaucracy. The Mongolian capital is nothing like the rest of Mongolia - although paradoxically almost half of all Mongolians live in Ulaan Baatar.


I love UB (Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

The Mongolians as we knew them so far were open-minded, honest, and very easy to deal with - life in the desert is too hard to over-complicate things. In UB things change dramatically - it's difficult to find a hostel, it's difficult to find a place for our bikes, and it's excruciatingly difficult to prolong our Mongolian visas. Herve's passport is almost full - a single clean page left for the Russian visa. It takes us hours to persuade Mongolian immigration officials to stamp the visa extention on an already crowded page. Then it's time for the Russian visa, and things get even more complicated, as the single page may not be enough... our fate hangs on the end of an embassy official's pen. Although our stay in UB is at first depressingly dominated by bureaucratic procedure, we eventually find the time for some long-neglected cultural activity. This consists of visiting the museum of communist oppression and seeing the new Indiana Jones film.


Good weather for paperwork (Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

Northern Mongolia: green valleys and yurts

We leave UB and head for the Russian border in good spirits, having filled up on pizza, goulash and travel stories with fellow cyclists, and with our propects for Russian visas looking hopeful (final verdict 16 July).

– 27 June - 2 July: UB - Sukhbatar
Lush green medows, grasslands and forests surround us all the way to the border town of Sukhbatar, even greener after a week of rain. Feeling lucky the rain coincided with our stay in the capital, we soak up the sunshine. The green valleys unsurprisingly attract more herders than the Gobi desert and dry steppe. There are yurts occupied by herders' families everywhere, often by rivers and streams, and we usually camp with them - mostly for the company but also for the protection it gives us from annoying drunks, and perhaps wolves, if the rumours are true.


Last week's rain has pleased some (Bayanchandmani, Mongolia)

The road to Sukhbatar is asphalt and in very good condition, but hilly, and eventually Goska's well-worn chain packs up. It keeps skipping so much that finally we change it for a new one and - surprise surprise - the new chain works perfectly well on at least 9 gears, despite the pignons being very used. The $2 Chinese derailer we changed earlier is working just fine, so it looks as if the old bike won't have trouble finishing this trip after all.

We only spend two nights in towns and the experience cements our belief that it's best to stay out of Mongolian towns (which is easy - there aren't many). In a hotel-flat in the run-down town of Bayangol, we are kept awake by the friendly proprietress singing her lungs out with friends over several bottles of vodka into the early hours. The singing is actually quite beautiful at the beginning but then degenerates as the vodka takes its effect and finishes with the sound of loud puking into the toilet around 5am.

Fortunately our next camping spot more than makes up for the discomforts of Bayangol. We set up camp among yurts by a river surrounded by mountains in the glow of the warm, setting sun. Surrounded by children playing in the tall grass and horses wading across the river we decide on a rule - when in Mongolia, do as the Mongolians do (camp).


A perfect place to camp (Orhon, Mongolia)


A nice place to wash dishes too (Orhon, Mongolia)

We later learn of the riots in Ulan Bator on the 1st of July, when protesters, some of them drunk, burned down the ruling party headquarters and much of the National Gallery in the capital. In the tranquil countryside the far-away violence seems improbable.

Read ‘From steppe to slums: urbanising Mongolia”.

The road to Sukhbatar is a beautiful ride - not too busy, asphalted, with plentiful water and only blue rivers and white yurts breaking up the green of the valleys. The vegetation turns from steppe to flowery meadow dotted with trees to Siberian-style forests as we approach Sukhbatar, and we know we are not far from Russia and Lake Baikal. As all border towns, Sukh Baatar is full of people passing through, money changers and dubious “businessmen.” It's not a place that makes you want to stay. Unfortunately, we can't cross the border yet as our Russian visas will be ready on the 16th of July at the earliest, which at least lets us enjoy the freedom of Mongolia for a few more days before entering Russia.


Getting closer to the Siberian taiga (Shaamar, Mongolia)


A beautiful paved road right up to the border (Sukh Baatar, Mongolia)

– 4 - 8 July: Stay in Erdenet
A night train takes us to Erdenet, Mongolia's second biggest town, constructed in 1974 after the opening of a giant copper mine – now one of the 10 biggest copper mines in the world. After a cycle trip into the hills around Bulgan we unofficially visit the mine, and forced to flee by a raging storm. The proliferation of mines in Mongolia suggests that the government, encouraged by investors, has chosen mining as the industry of the future for the country.

Read “Mongolia – mining a new future”.


Camping in the wilderness (Bulgan, Mongolia)


The biggest skies in the world (Erdenet, Mongolia)

– 9 - 12 July : Naadam festival
We are back in the Ulan Bator area for Naadam, a sort of Olympic Games for Mongolian nomads. On the programme: horse racing, archery and Mongolian wrestling.

See “Naadam : Nomad Olympics”.

We spend the festival period with the family of Solongo, a girl of 16 who had studied for a year in London (hence her good English) and was now helping out at her parents' shop during the summer holidays. The whole family gives us a taste of the Mongolians' innate sense of hospitality. Our only “obligation” is playing with Nomiko, the sister-niece, and Zaia, the sister-cousin. The most unforgettable experience is the Naadam dinner of beef cooked with vegetables and stones in the yurt, where Sukhenbatar, the father of the family, manages to make us drink three glasses of vodka each.


The family who invited us in for the Naadam festival (Khuu Doloon Hudag, Mongolia)


Goska swaps her bike for a horse (Khuu Doloon Hudag, Mongolia)

– 13 - 15 July: The end of our long wait for Russian visas.
A near-accident in the suburbs of Ulan Bator convinces us to pass the last three days before we get our Russian visas in the countryside. The national park of Gorkhi-Terelj is only 60km from the capital, and boasts giant water-sculped granite rocks, children as enthusiastic as ever to try our bikes, and of course great places to camp.


The little Mongolians are fighting to try our bikes (Terelj, Mongolia)


Tent or "ger" (yurt) - a house for everyone (Terelj, Mongolia)

–16 -18 July : Ready to cross the Russian border.
The wait for Russian visas was long and uncertain. Now we have all the papers – invitation letter, proof of insurance and a visa on our passport – Russia opens its doors to us... but only for 28 days. Now we just have to get back to the Russian border at Sukhbatar as quickly as possible (by train this time), and to hope that the immigration officials don't put new cogs into our bike wheels.


Haw haw haw! We managed to get the elusive Russian visas (Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

Russia: transition towards Europe!

Following culture shock in China and nomadic bliss in Mongolia, Russia seems more familiar. A strong dose of Asian exoticism is still present here, especially in the faraway province of Buryatia where the locals are a Mongol people who worship in Buddhist temples and shaman holy places. But blond heads start to replace Asian faces, and beautifully decorated wooden houses take the place of yurts, while stalinist blocks occuply city centres. Our 28-day Russian visas, which cost us so dearly, do not allow us to cross the country by bicycle – it's too big. We planned a week of pedaling from the Mongolian border to Lake Baikal (Buryatia and Irkutsk province). For the rest there's the trans-siberian train, which will take us to Moscow.
Whether it's from the seats of our bikes or from the train window, Siberia offers us its great unspoilt open spaces to admire: birch and conifer forests (the taiga), crystal-clear lakes and wetlands teeming with wildlife (including giant mosquitos). Environmental issues come in big dimensions here – the huge task of preserving these immense territories, still little known, very fragile and crucial in preserving the equilibrium of the planet. Travelling by train gives us an opportunity to meet many Russians. The elusive Russian soul seems full of nostalgia, of decadent pride, of vodka and songs sang in a rough voice. The Russians sometimes seem grumpy at first but each time turn out very helpful in the end. They tell us stories of murder, drugs and mafia worthy of a James Bond film.


What a surprise to see little blond heads again (Kyakhta, Russia)


A real Russian babushka (Tomsk, Russia)

– 18- 20 July: From the Mongolian border to Ulan-Ude without a kopec.
Welcomed by friendly, smiling border guards, crossing into Russia is a piece of cake. The only problem: the cash machines in the border town of Kyahta do not accept our visa cards. With only 500 roubles in our pockets, changed at the bank for our left-over mongol tögröds. During the 3 days it took us to get to Uland Ude we were forced to tighten our belts and ration our meagre provisions. The situation was made worse by the fact that Russian prices are around double of those in Mongolia. The evening of the second day we spent our last bank notes on a few glasses of kompot at a “zakusochnaya” (roadside café), and asked permission to put up our tent nearby. The two Buryat women running the café offered us a place to sleep inside without hesitation and the next morning, realizing we didn't have much money, served us a huge breakfast for free.


Buryat hospitality: free breakfast and new friends in this roadside cafe (Ivolginsk, Russia)


16 000 km by bike! Comrade Lenin is impressed (Ulan-Ude, Russia)

– 21- 23 July: Along the lake Baikal
From Ulan-Ude we only had to follow the Selenga river to reach the great lake. Our impatience to see the Baikal, the pearl of Siberia, grew with every kilometre. The road now led through forested hills that line the coast. Our first glimpse of the lake was from the top of one of these hills, but we soon lose sight of it again as the road again plunges into hilly terrain which becomes increasingly boggy. Clouds of Siberian mosquitos, enormous and ruthless, don't let us rest for a second and cause panic at every pee-stop. It's impossible to camp in these swamps and we have no choice but to reach Babushkin – 150km in one day, arrival at 10pm. The next day the landscape opens up progressively and we discover the immensity of lake Baikal as seen from the South, between Slyudyanka and Kultuk. We spend the last night at the idyllic country house of Nina Alexandrovna, a former lecturer in French language at Irkutsk's technical university, recommended to us by a fellow cyclist.


The immense, majestic Lake Baikal, "the pearl of Siberia" (Kultuk, Russia)


An oasis of peace by the lake Baikal (Kultuk, Russia)

– 24- 25 July: End of the big cycle in Irkutsk.
The last day of our journey – Kultuk to Irkutsk – takes in 100km of hilly road across forested mountains. What a beautiful way to finish a cycle of 16000km across Asia! We are all the more excited because we have someone to meet in Irkutsk – Santiago, the president of our association, came all the way from Rouen to accompany us back on the trans-siberian. Note that he did not take the plane but passed 6 days and 6 nights in the train. How very sustainable.


Santiago with his new friends, Anatoly and Valentina (Transsib, Moscow-Irkutsk, Russia)


Arriving at the station after 4 days and 4 nights of tugudumtugudum.

– 26- 28 July: Trip to Olkhon island.
As soon as he arrived Santiago acquired a bicycle and the three of us left Irkutsk for the Olkhon island on Lake Baikal. Despite the rising number of tourists and rubbish, this sublime and wild place is an ideal platform from which to explore the Baikal. Once there, we pedal all day long across an alternately muddy and sandy track to finally arrive at the end of the island where we look out into the “open sea” from steep cliffs. Baikal, the deepest lake in the world at 1600m, contains 20% of the planet's fresh water. An unforgettable moment!


Santiago, the "sage of sustainability," points the way


Olkhon island, a refuge from pollution..


...or is it? (Olkhon, Russia)

– 29 July: Visit to the Baikal Environmental Wave NGO in Irkutsk.
Goska knows the Baikal region since her journalism thesis was based around sustainable development issues in the region. Our visit is an occasion to re-establish contact with local environmental activists and for an update on what has changed over the last 3 years.

Read article – to come.

– 30- 31 July: By train from Irkutsk to Novosibirsk.
It's the end of the cycle adventure, but a new one begins – that of the trans-siberian. Our two-wheels, instruments of our freedom over the last 12 months, become a source of problems. Trains which take bicycles are rare. It is necessary to send them on a different train, but delivery is not guaranteed in less than 10 days!
The railway line passes through Angarsk, where a large scale nuclear waste project is worrying local inhabitants.

– 1- 2 August: Double whammy in Novosibirsk.
The choice of this stop on the trans-siberian was first of all motivated by an event not to be missed: a total eclipse of the sun takes place in Novosibirsk on August 1st. We witness the magic moment near the university campus of Akademgorodok on the banks of the river Ob, in the company of the members of the local SibEcoCenter NGO.


Sasha from the SibEcoCenter NGO tries our solar panel (Akademgorodok, Russia)


A few minutes before the eclipse the light becomes surreal..


At 5.42pm the moon eclipses the sun to reveal stars "from the other side of the sky"

Goska takes the opportunity to interview Alexandr and Elvira from the NGO about the threatened Siberian forests and endangered species respectively.

Read article to come.

– 3 - 5 August: picturesque Tomsk
A few hours' train ride from Novosibirsk, Tomsk is a beautiful town which has managed to preserve its ancient charm. Its magnificent wooden houses, although sometimes badly conserved, fully justify this detour. A visit to the banks of the Tom river and numerous encounters with the locals, all very proud of their town, complete our contentment. Herve's shoes are finally repaired by a friendly Tajik named Saiid – a welcome change after two weeks of looking for a repaireman willing to do the jobs, and several days pedaling in flip-flops.


Still pedalling during a stop between two night trains (Tomsk, Russia)


Traditional wooden house (Tomsk, Russia)


A local woman named Violetta offers us a glass of home-made apple lemonade (Tomsk, Russia)

– 5-6 August: On to Yekaterinenburg – and the trouble with Russian trains
Given the great distances crossed by Russian trains, all passangers enjoy the right to a couchette and numerous comforts which make the journey very pleasant: a domestic feel to the compartments, a hostess in each wagon, and an atmosphere that lends itself ideally to chance meetings and conversation. The only problem is that it takes an eternity to obtain tickets for ourselves and our bikes.


The rest of the trip by train..


The "provodnitsas" are not always this friendly and smiling (Transsiberian, Russia)

– 7 - 9 August: waiting for our bikes in Yekaterinenburg
A few days of waiting in Yekaterinburg allow us to put the site in order and to explore the town with Jack and William, our two friends from Ireland and England met on the train who are passionate about Russia. It makes it easier to ignore the weather – often cloudy and rainy. After several trips to the railway station we find out that our bicycles have been left on the train – the staff didn't unload them “because they didn't have a tractor!” – and they will be there in 4 or 5 days. This puts an end to our plans of crossing the Ural mountains by bike across the geological border between Asia and Europe. We take a direct train to Moscow and fill in documents for the bikes to be transferred there too.

– 9- 10 August: the way to Moscow
A day and a night in the trans-siberian spent drinking tea (a samovar in every carriage provides a limitless, free supply of hot water) and eating what's available in the station kiosks and by peddlers on the platforms. Careful with the smoked fish of doubtful freshness and the unwashed vegetables...


30 minute break! Enough to buy provisions..


Joe Dassin! Joe Dassin! The Russians invariably ask Santiago to play his songs

– 10 August: Panic in Moscow, Russia

From one railway station to another, by metro and by taxi, we only get a fleeting glimpse of the Russian capital which surprises us by its mix of colossal Soviet buildings and new commercial centres teeming with advertisement boards.

The reason for the panic - our bikes. "They should arrive around the 16th at the earliest!," we are told at the baggage desks. What a coincidence - that's the date our visas finish. How are we to get the bikes from Moscow to Warsaw, our next stop? Is it possible to transfer them directly after we've left? The bored attendant is sure of the rules: "-The sender must be present with the luggage to be sent and personally fill in the customs declaration and other documents. The only other option is to ask a friend in Moscow to send the bicycles on for you.”
All this trouble would have been avoided had the employees of the Yekaterinenburg station hadn't been so incompetent. They had "forgotten" to unload our bikes from the postal wagon, explaining that they had no tractor to carry them!
Luckily we find a solution thanks to Taus, a friend of Goska's living in Moscow. As soon as we call her she comes to our rescue. A few hours later, we find ourselves at a notary's office to sign an (apparently necessary) document allowing Taus to pick up our bikes and send them on to Poland. Santiago offers Taus his own bike bought in Irkutsk as a token of thanks. Welcome to the association! A very big thank you to Taus for saving our bikes. To be continued…


Taus finds us a Notary's office on a Sunday - success!!


Missing our bikes, lost on the great Russian railway...(Moscow, Russia)

To see where we are now, click here.

Falleció Vassili Borissovitch Nesterenko, uno de los más eminentes físicos nucleares de la ex URSS y fervoroso anti nuclear

Véronique RATEL — 2008-07-05T18:46:00Z

Vassili B. Nesterenko (1934 - 25.08.2008)
El vicepresidente de la asociación francobielorusa "Niños de Tchernobyl Belarús" (Enfants de Tchernobyl Belarus) Vassili Nesterenko acaba de fallecer. Físico nuclear del más alto nivel en la ex URSS, desde 1986 se opuso a la desinformación sobre Tchernobyl. En 1990, fundó con la ayuda de Sakharov el Instituto Independiente de Radioprotección "Belrad" para investigar sobre la contaminación radioactiva y ayudar a las poblaciones afectadas por la catástrofe y particularmente a los niños.

COMUNICADO DE PRENSA del 26 de agosto de 2008 DE LA ASOCIACIÓN FRANCESA "ENFANTS DE TCHERNOBYL BELARUS"

20 rue Principale - 68480 Biederthal - FRANCIA
Sitio internet : http://enfantsdetchernobylbelarus.d...
E-mail: etchernobyl@doubleclic.asso.fr

Voici ce qu'il avait déclaré :

"Je veux vous dire ceci : tant que les amis nous soutiennent, nous continuons à espérer que les victimes survivront. Je suis l'un des 800 000 liquidateurs blessés par Tchernobyl. Ce sont réellement des hommes oubliés dans nos pays. Des dizaines de milliers ont déjà quitté ce monde, ils ne pourront plus parler. Au nom des autres, je vous souhaite à toutes les vigies, du courage et une longue vie, afin que vous puissiez rester ici jusqu'à la victoire. Je vous souhaite à tous la bonne santé que nous avions, nous les liquidateurs, avant d'arriver sur le réacteur. Nous étions tous jeunes et pleins de force. Merci."

On peut considérer que ces paroles étaient prémonitoires. Il parlait comme un de ces liquidateurs profondément atteint dans sa chair. Comme le dit Michel Fernex, Président des ENFANTS de TCHERNOBYL BELARUS :

"Pour nous, Vassily Nesterenko était un ami. Nous étions conscients que l'institut Belrad n'a survécu que grâce à son intelligence éblouissante qui lui avait permis de résister à mille embûches et attaques perfides dont il était victime. Le professeur Nesterenko dirigeait le célèbre Institut de physique nucléaire de Minsk, quand, en Ukraine, explosait le réacteur de Tchernobyl. Il décide dès lors de se consacrer à la protection des populations, et tout particulièrement celle de la santé des enfants victimes d'irradiation chronique. Il y a consacré sa vie. Avec cela, il néglige sa propre santé et se refuse trop souvent le repos dont il aurait tant besoin."

Vassili Nesterenko était en train de réaliser un ATLAS du radiocésium accumulé dans l'organisme des enfants vivant dans les régions contaminées en utilisant toutes les données recueillies depuis 1990 dans son action de radioprotection et qu'il est sans doute le seul témoin de ce type concernant les suites de Tchernobyl. Il est donc nécessaire de poursuivre l'oeuvre de Vassili Nesterenko. L'institut Indépendant de Radioprotection "Belrad" doit survivre à ce grand homme courageux, d'une abnégation totale et qui a consacré sa vie pour la reconnaissance de la vérité et tenter de réparer et de limiter les dommages faits à l'homme de la plus grande catastophe nucléaire.

Parcours d'un résistant exceptionnel:

Dans les heures qui ont suivi la catastrophe de Tchernobyl en 1986, un homme s'est révolté contre le mensonge d'État au prix de sa carrière et de sa sécurité personnelle. Membre de l'Académie des Sciences du Belarus, physicien du plus haut niveau international, Vassili Nesterenko, avait accès en Union Soviétique aux villes interdites pour raisons militaires. Tchernobyl a bouleversé sa vie. Svetlana Alexievitch raconte(1) comment lors d'une conférence d'experts soviétiques il avait pris la parole pour souligner l'urgence d'évacuer la population à au moins 100 kilomètres à la ronde, de distribuer des dosimètres et des tablettes d'iode, de sauver les enfants" (2). Face à l'inaction et aux mensonges du gouvernement soviétique, par un geste d'une témérité inouïe, Nesterenko décida d'arrêter, sans le moindre aval de ses supérieurs, les travaux scientifiques de l'Institut de l'énergétique nucléaire de la Biélorussie, qu'il dirigeait. À la place, il mit tout son personnel à contribution pour étudier les conséquences de Tchernobyl et pour élaborer une politique d'aide aux populations sinistrées. Naturellement, il fut limogé et il a subi les pressions du KGB. Il a échappé à deux attentats.

En 1990, il crée avec le soutien d'Andrei Sakharov, A. Adamovitch et et A. Karpov l'Institut indépendant de radioprotection "Belrad" pour venir en aide aux enfants des territoires touchés par les retombées radioactives. Il forme à la radioprotection les médecins, les enseignants, les infirmières.

En 1994, L'Institut " Belrad " acquiert en Ukraine, avec l'aide d'ONG occidentales, des fauteuils mobiles pour l'anthropogammamétrie humaine qu'il perfectionne. Ces spectromètres mesurent la radioactivité dans le corps humain et sont reliés à un ordinateur qui enregistre les rayonnements gamma spécifiques des radionucléides incorporés : le césium 137, mais aussi le potassium. Les données stockées sont publiées régulièrement dans un document distribué aux autorités sanitaires nationales, régionales et locales ainsi qu'aux familles.

En 1996, Nesterenko adopte avec succès l'additif alimentaire à base de pectine de pommes recommandé par le Ministère de la santé ukrainien comme adsorbant du césium137 (Cs137). En un mois de traitement la charge en radionucléides de l'organisme de l'enfant peut baisser de 60-70%.

Nesterenko est le seul scientifique qui mesure systématiquement la radioactivité artificielle interne. Ses mesures ont révélé des contaminations huit fois plus élevées que celles que publie le Ministère de la santé biélorusse, qui a tenté de le bloquer dans son action. Son activité étant légale, il n'a pas réussi à le faire plier. Depuis des années l'Institut Belrad continue à fonctionner grâce à l'aide internationale et en particulier en France par le soutien financier de l'association Enfants de Tchernobyl Belarus, mais aussi de France-Libertes, Les enfants de Tchernobyl…

Lui-même devait se battre contre les méfaits de la contamination radioactive, pour avoir survolé la centrale de Tchernobyl peu de temps après l'accident. Sa santé était devenue très précaire. Or, depuis 2007, les tracasseries administratives avaient redoublé après qu'il ait refusé l'offre qui lui avait été faite de diriger les travaux de la future centrale nucléaire au Belarus. Le 25 juin 2007, le président Loukachenko a signé une résolution adressée au Premier ministre Sidorsky :"Prendre les mesures nécessaires pour traduire en justice l'entreprise unitaire privée " Institut de radioprotection " Belrad " et ses responsables pour violation de la législation dans le domaine de recherches sur la radioprotection et la diffusion des informations sur les résultats de ces recherches. "

Mais, Nesterenko connaissait les lois. Il s'est défendu avec une énergie surprenante. Après des contrôles quotidiens exténuants d'une commission du département fiscal du ministère des Finances, avec mission d'incriminer l'Institut Belrad, ce département a reconnu l'excellence du travail de l'institut et lui a fait ses compliments. Mais, cette dernière bataille a certainement contribué à venir à bout de sa résistance…

Heureusement l'Institut Belrad avec plus d'une trentaine de collaborateurs a construit une équipe dont son fils Alexey Nesterenko est prêt à prendre la direction pour relever le défi de la connaissance contre le mensonge et de l'aide aux enfants du Belarus qui continuent à subir les méfaits de la contamination radioactive.

(1). " La salle était restée inerte, chacun jugeant qu'il exagérait. Il avait insisté, bataillé. L'auditoire était resté sceptique. Quand il avait vu que ses efforts étaient vains, que chacun faisait mine de croire à une situation "normale", comme le proclamait la propagande, des larmes de rage s'étaient mises à couler sur son visage... " Cet homme, il fallait que je le rencontre", conclut Svetlana Alexievitch. " La Supplication " (Lattès),

(2). Cité par Nathalie Nougayrède, Le Monde, 20 mai 2000

Lisez l'excellent article paru dans "la Libre Belgique" en hommage à Vassili Nesterenko de Marc Molitor, journaliste belge qui fait partie de nos adhérents. http://www.lalibre.be/debats/opinio...

Pour toutes informations relatives à l'action devant l'OMS, vous pouvez consulter le site http://www.independentwho.info/spip...

Véronique RATEL,
secrétaire de l'association "Enfants de Tchernobyl Bélarus
http://enfantsdetchernobylbelarus.d...

Eating Chinese: fuel for 1.3 billion

Gośka Romanowicz — 2008-06-10T13:11:35Z


Eating for China: workers at a market noodle stall finish their meal

Whether it's Southern rice fields worked by horse-drawn plough or giant mechanised wheat plantations in the North, we're mostly cycling through farmland. Rice, noodles and soya are fuel for the Chinese economic machine, and their low prices crucial to staying competitive on the global market.

China achieved food self-sufficiency in the mid-1990s, but with continuing conversion of farmland into industrial areas as well as growing water scarcity the situation is proving unsustainable. The resulting food price increases have been worrying the Chinese government recently – the price of pork has risen by 65% since 2006, and beef by 73%, for example. The fact that more Chinese are now regularly eating meat isn't helping.

China's growing food crisis is amplified by population growth – the country's population has doubled since 1949, and continues to grow despite the one child policy (we were surprised to find how many young Chinese we met had brothers and sisters!). As it is, Mao's “one mouth = 2 hands” philosophy could well turn against the Chinese as “two mouths = three meals a day.”

New York, a great city for bike infrastructure

Rashaad JORDEN — 2008-06-02T14:37:48Z


Maybe he is riding the Cheesesteak Express (Philadelphia, US)

As Bike Month recently concluded in New York, it's a great time to inquire about the state of bicycling in the Big Apple. After all, the 17th Annual Bike Month saw more than 200-bicycle related events hit the city, such as the eight annual Bicycle Film Festival on Bike Month's last weekend. And surely, beautiful summer days will surely entice more New Yorkers to get on their bikes.

But despite the plethora of events that satisfy bike enthusiasts, is New York a good city for cyclists? Cyclists seem to be squeezed out of Manhattan's crowded streets as the city fights to reduce congestion. Much to Mayor Michael Bloomberg's disappointment, the state legislation failed to approve the city's congestion pricing plan, which would have charged cars and commercial vehicles $8 to enter most of Manhattan from six a.m. to six p.m. on weekdays.

I received three opinions on the state of bicycling in New York. Wiley Norvell, the communications director for Transportation Alternatives (a non-profit organization that's working to turn New Yorkers away from automobiles towards bicycling, walking, and public transport), speaks optimistically about the state of bicycling in the Big Apple.

“New York is a better city to bicycle in than in the past, and it's a great city for bike infrastructure,” says Norvell, whose organization help run Bike Month along with the New York City Department of Transportation, Department of Parks and Recreation, and Department of Health. “And there are some amenities for bicycles.” He adds the city will add more than 200 miles of painted lines for cyclists, which will undoubtedly please the roughly 130,000 cyclists each day in New York.

Bob Nelson also sees positives for New York cyclists. Nelson, the public relations coordinator for Fast and Fabulous (a group that promotes cycling in New York's LGBT community), says, “New York has the potential to be a good city for cyclists, because we have the population, building and service density that makes it convenient to get around by bike. You get around Manhattan on bike as it's only 35 miles, and south of Central Park, you get around anywhere in a few minutes.”

130,000 cyclists per day in the Big Apple sounds like a decent amount. But according to Norvell, there would be a lot more cyclists on the streets of New York - if only they could find a safe location to park their bicycles.

“We need legislation that'll help people find permits to park,” he says, adding that “tens of thousands of people in New York don't bicycle because they're worried about losing their bikes.”

And as in just about any other major American city, the overabundance of cars makes life difficult for cyclists. “On major road boulevards, we need more vigorous protection for cyclists.”

Nelson concurs that traffic is a hassle for cyclists. However, taking precautions make cycling a lot easier. “I have found that if I ride responsibly and wear bright colors, drivers respect me,” he says. “At night, I put a halogen light on the front of my bike, and it's clear that drivers respect you and treat you more like another vehicle and not as annoyance. So I think it is up to us to advocate for better conditions and take precautions where possible.”

John Chapman, one of Nelson's colleagues at Fast and Fabulous, isn't quite so optimistic about cycling in New York. He echoes Norvell's concerns about a lack of authorized places to lock up bikes.

“Basically, it's an okay city for cyclists,” Chapman says. “However, there are not a lot of safe on-street or off-street bike lanes. Most are either marked or unmarked areas shared with car traffic and parked cars.”

More protected bike lanes, Chapman believes, would encourage people to cycle in New York. But he adds a massive change in the attitudes of drivers would also encourage more people to cycle.

“In many European cities, bikes and pedestrians are considered the main users of the streets, and car and trucks respects them. Not in NYC,” Chapman states.

Despite seeming rather gloomy about the state of cyling in New York, Chapman retains some hope for the future. He says the new 200 miles of bike lanes will help, and the city has hired consultants to increase bicycle commuting. Nelson likewise expresses optimism for the future of cycling in the Big Apple. “I see more bikers on the street on the street where I commute to work, so more people consider biking to work a real option,” he says. Nelson also see the city's transportation commissioner, Janice Sadik-Khan, as being “bike friendly.”

That sounds great. “But,” Chapman concludes. “I think it's going to take a long time to make any real progress.”

China pedals on

Gośka Romanowicz — 2008-05-27T13:09:03Z


China is one of few Asian countries where people cycle for pleasure

The bicycle still serves as a cheap way of getting around and transport goods for China's masses, and for the time being the idea of every Chinese getting a car seems ridiculous; most people are very poor. Although the countryside is already spotted with brand-new four-by-fours and the biggest cities are filling up with passenger cars, two-wheel transport is still the most common: bicycles, electric and motor-bikes.

But the bicycle has more functions than simply getting around. Cycling is now a leisure activity in China - not something that can be said of India (see “India: On yer bike”), or indeed any of the countries we have crossed so far apart from Thailand. Many rich Chinese abandon bikes for cars, and see cycling as the domaine of the poor - as our friend Julien, who sells anti-pollution masks in China, found. But groups of lycra-clad cyclists equipped with the latest gadgets are becoming a common sight on Chinese roads. This means that some of China's nouveaux riches, who have long swapped bikes for cars, are taking up cycling for pleasure. They are joined by weekend cyclists on everything from simple black city bikes to expensive Giant models. We even came across groups of Chinese cyclists who, like us, were travelling a considerable distance. And as many Chinese roads are equipped with wide cycle lanes, cycling in some parts of China, including Beijing, can be a relatively safe and enjoyable experience.

If there is one sign of the onset of car culture that measures up to the horror stories it is the reign of the lorry on Chinese roads. Lorries are everywhere, bringing noise and pollution to roads through fields, towns and villages - as we can testify having spent most of our journey through China in their company. Cars in China must theoretically fulfil strict pollution regulations, but you won't see much evidence of this outside of Beijing, as manifested the blue and black lorry fumes we have been breathing for the last two months. Only remote places in China's deep south and backward provinces like Guizhou are lorry free. Some short-distance goods transport is still done by pedal power - and it's impressive what you can load onto a bike or a tricycle, as can be seen in the photos below.

The overall impression we take away is that the bicycle is much more ingrained in China than it is in the West, and some of those who can afford a car continue to cycle. For the sake of everyone in China and outside of it, let's hope China's rich cycle culture will survive the monumental changes the country is undergoing.

Tribal China - surviving modernity

Gośka Romanowicz — 2008-04-28T10:16:19Z


The Dong tribe - Chinese, but not like you'd imagine

North of Guilin we choose to detour into Guizhou having heard much about its diversity and "authenticity", something that Chinese tourism planners seem to have forgotten all about. Guizhou offers a no-frills, down-to-earth tourism experience, with considerable effort needed just to find a village with a hotel. The Dong and Miao tribe villages and towns we cycle through are very poor, but the warm welcome we receive from the locals makes up for the unpaved roads of sinking mud and the hole-in-the-ground toilets. And this hilly province offers something we haven't seen in China so far: age-old traditions being maintained, and not just for the tourists! Most of the China we've seen so far seems to have had its history erased in the pursuit of "modernity" and is surprisingly Western, at least on the outside.

The Dong and the Miao are just two of Guizhou's 11 ethnic minority ethnic groups. The reason they are known as minorities is that 92% of China's population is made up of Han Chinese, who have their roots along the Yellow River basin. But China has 55 other ethnic groups, some of which, such as the Miao in Guizhou, have revolted against Han Chinese rule in the past. In Guizhou, minority groups account for 37% of the population - a relatively high percentage.

Cycling across this part of the country makes it very obvious that not everyone is cashing in on China's miracle economic boom - much of the China we see is still very poor. Guizhou's minorities are one of the groups for whom the "miracle" does not seem to be happening at all. The province has the lowest per capita GDP in the country, and this manifests itself in poor living conditions. Many of the people here are miners and loggers, and the way they live is a world away from the fashionable city-dwellers driving the newest 4x4s we see in big urban centres. The Chinese government has apparently tried to make Guizhou into a transport hub - there is even a new airport in Liping, a relatively large town - but this doesn't seem to be improving things, at least not yet. The surrounding countryside is still very poor, and even in Liping we see people carrying home water in buckets, and the toilets are - I have to say this, worm-infested holes in the ground. Apart from the bad sanitary conditions, everything feels as if nothing has changed here and is unlikely to change for a while. The impression of stagnation is strong as we sit in a cold, humid shack on the edges of Liping lit by a single light-bulb that is both a family home and a motorbike repair shop, waiting for our bikes to be fixed by the friendly locals.

Liping is a Dong ethnic minority town, like most of the villages we cycle through in this south-eastern corner of Guizhou. The Dong tribe has its own language and traditional clothing, which still seems to be everyday attire in many of the villages we pass through. The Dong are famed for constructing covered wooden bridges known as "wind and rain bridges, as well as beautiful embroidery. Despite this area's breathtaking mountain views and rich culture we hardly meet any tourists. The tourists we do meet are all at official "scenic spots," where we see the minority tribe people and culture treated like circus performers, with tickets for entry to "scenic areas" and fees for photographs with women in traditional dress. Although this is bringing some money in, it is not really the way to preserve the minority people's sense of identity - on the contrary, it seems to be degrading their culture and treating ancient traditions as if they amounted to dressing up in colourful clothes for the tourists. Surely there are other ways for Guizhou and other minority areas to develop.

Deforestation – on the green gold trail

Gośka Romanowicz — 2008-03-29T14:09:30Z


Wood traffic – from the local to the global

The road to Vietnam carries a constant stream of wood: bamboo carried on bicycles, trunks pulled along on bull-carts, giant logs loaded onto trucks battling their way up the Lao hills. In fact, wood seems to be the principal load of vehicles going in the Laos-Vietnam direction. You don't have to look far to see the results of this traffic: Highway 13 and Highway 7 are surrounded by bald hills, with some forest only visible further from the road or on inaccessible steep slopes.

Despite the impression a country stripped bare, the fact is that a lot of Laos is still covered in forest - it is just far from the country's few roads. Forests still take up 70% of land surface (latest figures from the UN FAO), one of the highest forest-to-land area ratios in SE Asia. But Laos forests are shrinking - forest cover has gone down from 17.3 million hectares in 1990 to 16.1 million in 2005. The main culprits are commercial logging, new hydroelectric dams and roads, and forest land used for cash crops, explains Sebastian Schrader from the Greater Mekong branch of the WWF. The forest cover figures are confusing and controversial, he says, also because of plantations being counted as wooded land: although the forest area may be increasing, natural forest area is shrinking. With 149 dam-building projects (read Laos, future battery of Asia... but at what cost?), several international logging companies moving in and a mega-highway soon to cut Laos in two (see Le Laos cherche sa voie), there are reasons to worry about the country's forests.

Commercial logging and the clearance of healthy forest to make way for plantations are two major causes of deforestation we have witnessed on our way through Laos. Wood being transported on trucks comes in two types: hardwood from logged natural forests, and wood grown in plantations. The hardwood is easily spotted - enormous, heavy logs weighing down the trucks carrying them. This is the expensive tropical hardwood fetching high prices on the global market. Plantations are the source of wood for paper, furniture and other products - we have seen these thinner, younger logs carried on trucks, and often found ourselves cycling through trees planted in rows, usually teak.

Although they are (theoretically) regularly re-planted, and so should be sustainable, there are problems with plantations. Healthy, thick forest growing on rich soil, home to an enormous variety of species, is sometimes cleared to make space for them. Worse still, many plantations don't survive very long. Some companies clear natural forest, sell off the expensive hardwood, plant trees for a few years and then move out, leaving behind bald hills.

There is a big difference between tree plantations and forests, especially for the Lao people, most of whom live in close symbiosis with the forest surrounding their villages. Natural forest is a source of firewood, food, medicine and construction materials for their houses (see Building a new Laos). With decreasing access to natural forests, the traditional lifestyles we witnessed in Laos - bamboo hut villages surrounded by banana and papaya trees, locals cutting bamboo with machetes, roadside stalls selling traditional medicine - could disappear just like the forests that once covered the hills. Despite the losses they incur, local people complain that they are practically excluded from the profits when plantations are established on land they previously used.

Lao forest land is increasingly being turned into plantations with encouragement from the government and international institutions. The Asia Development Bank, for example, is running a project in Laos with the aim of promoting a "sufficiently large area of industrial plantations to attract a pulpmill and/or one or more MDF [medium density fibreboard] plants to Lao PDR in the not too distant future." Several international paper pulp companies including global giants like Stora Enso are already establishing plantations in central Laos. The teak plantations we have cycled through in the North are just a small part of the picture. Chinese and Vietnamese companies are setting up rubber plantations all over the country, and international paper pulp giants are establishing pulpwood plantations in central Laos.

Crossing the border into Vietnam we find ourselves cycling through the same steep hills as in Laos, suddenly covered in lush forest. Beautifully crafted wooden houses line the road. As we descend into the plains and head towards the sea the forest fades fast, however, and is replaced by never-ending rice paddies, industrial areas, and plantations. Less than 40% of Vietnam's land area is still covered in forest, with another 7% taken up by plantations (latest UN FAO data). This is where the Lao wood we have shared Highway 7 with is heading - it joins a flow of raw wood coming from around the globe to be turned into beams, panels, furniture and sculpted decorations in Vietnamese factories and workshops.

Whether from natural forest or plantations, wood is often grown unsustainably. Efforts to encourage sustainable wood sources for the furniture market have somewhat affected Vietnam, but only on the export side, Sebastian Schrader explains. Most of the furniture that Vietnam exports to the West is now certified by the FSC (Forest Stewardship Council), in part thanks to a report from the Global Witness watchdog. The FSC label signifies wood coming from forests and plantations grown in a sustainable way, and should guarantee that no forests were destroyed to produce it. Around half of all garden furniture sold in Europe is made in Vietnam, so the impact of such an action can be huge. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the local market. Furniture producers supplying the Vietnamese and other Asian markets still use any wood they can get hold of.

Still further down the road, in southern China, wood seems to be everywhere, from small workshops to giant factories. The scale of wood processing here is like nothing we have seen before. One city we pass through, Lipu, is one giant wood-processing plant - a row of big factories making ply-board, wooden hangers, and all sorts of wooden articles. The river of wood we have been following is partly feeding these factories, but at this stage it is very difficult to say where each log originates - the hills of Laos, the rainforests of Brazil, or the Russian taiga (which we should reach in July). One way to make sure you are not contributing to the destruction of forests in countries like Laos is to look for the FSC label on all furniture you buy.

Find out more:

The UN Food and Agriculture Organisation
WWF Greater Mekong
Global Witness
Forest Stewardship Council
FSC Watch - because no-one's perfect..

Laos: a smiling welcome

Hervé Bonnaveira — 2008-02-19T13:24:00Z

Since getting into Laos we are under the spell of this country where everyone seems to be smiling. It all started in Vientiane with the exceptional hospitality of Vincent, a maths teacher at the French school there, followed by the enthusiasm of other teachers and their pupils in four different classes which we presented our project to. We were then pleasantly surprised on the road to Luang Prabang, reputed dangerous due to Hmong rebels who attacked buses and killed passengers five years ago. Our experience was very different - nothing but people waving hello, children shouting with joy when seeing us cycle past, and sublime views. Why are these people so welcoming despite their poverty and the economic hardship of their country? Is it because nature is so generous here and that people don't know the stress of the big city? The Laos countryside we are cycling through brings up some interesting questions to do with sustainable development and quality of life.

- 3. Bicycle diaries

How I rediscovered Thailand

Mohammed Eryk Khalifa — 2008-02-11T04:47:22Z

From the hammock to the wilderness - impressions of a first-time cycle traveller.


An excellent Asian adventure

Before I decided to travel with Hervé and Gośka, I had a few questions about cycling across half of Asia. One of them was whether I really wanted to cycle 8000km and whether it's not too much for a first trip. Wouldn't it be more sensible to start with something less ambitious, such as a trip along the river in my town? - I thought. Seriously though, the trip seemed predestined from the beginning. I was invited by my friend Kasia to stay at her house in Bangkok where I would meet my cycling partners three months later. There was a hammock on the veranda and a capoeira group in town - my three months in Bangkok were easily planned out.

Since I arrived in Thailand I tried to learn about the culture and mentality of the people around me. As it turned out later, Bangkok represents a different Thailand to that which I am now discovering outside of the capital. Many Bangkok people are much more concentrated on money – they want more, quicker and often easier money, a tendency often accompanied by a lack of basic human kindness. They treat you like just another "farang," (foreigner), a source of dollars. People I met outside of Bangkok talk to us about things other than how much we should pay, really want to know where we come from and whether we like their country.

Travelling by bicycle makes it much easier to see the surrounding world. I really wasn't expecting that travelling to a different place every day could be so fascinating: people, animals, plants, landscapes, as well as the physical effort – all this has a strong influence on perception.

The first day of travel was exciting. Preparations, waking up early, saying goodbye to Kasia whose house we stayed at with Herve and Goska. Leaving Bangkok I felt relieved, and at the same time slightly nostalgic for all the people I'd met and all that I'd experienced over the last three months.

As we cycled out of Bangkok the city revealed some of its less known places to us. Mistakenly taking a road via Mo Chit we ended up cycling through the slums, narrow streets the width of our bikes with hundreds of little shed-like houses along a stinking canal. When we thought we were lost, an English-speaking farang living locally showed us the way across a little bridge hidden by weeds. This time we chose the right direction – North.

After that each day took us further, revealing new landscapes. One of our first interesting stops was Khao Yai national park. Entering the park we were surprised to have to pay 20 Bhat extra for our bikes – paying more for a clean, quiet form of transport that really gets you close to nature in a national park didn't seem logical. The road through the park was full of cars, many of them very loud, polluting and deafening any wildlife that might still be left near the road. Some might say cars represent comfort and security. I came to other conclusions – thoughtlessness and laziness.

I wondered how animals could live in this noise, but we did see many signs warning tourists of cobras, elephants and even tigers crossing the road. After seeing this last sign we started to pedal faster, peeking into the jungle that darkened with the setting sun, looking for the silhouettes of animals. The campsite was around 30km from the park gates, so we had a chance to look around. Cycling along the road illuminated by a pink and red sunset and with few cars now, we saw and heard beautiful, majestic birds with horned beaks flying overhead like prehistoric dinosaurs. The loud whoosh of their wigs through the air gave us an idea of their size.

When we finally found the campsite it was dark and chilly. We were at 710 metres above sea level. We quickly put up our tents and went to sleep. In the morning we decided to spend some time discovering the park and the waterfalls. But our day of rest turned into an exciting race through the jungle where we almost spent the night in the company of elephants, tigers and monkeys. Luckily Goska's orienteering skills brought us back to civilisation just before nightfall. After an hour's run through the jungle, searching for the narrow and sometimes completely overgrown path, we were safely back in our tents.

The next day in the national park brought us new thrills thanks to Daniel, an American living near Khao Yai park with his family. He invited us to his house and took us for another trip into the jungle, this time to look for a lost plane that had crashed somewhere in the area about two months previously. Our host was well prepared for the search, with good maps, a GPS, lots of information, and especially the will to methodically comb through the jungle. We spent the day in the bush walking along a dry riverbed and climbing steep bamboo-covered hillsides. All this convinced me that the cycle tour that I joined is far from just monotonous pedaling, but a whole series of adventures, often giving me goose pimples and causing my heart to beat faster.

All the beautiful places we reach every day, the Buddhist temples, huge golden Buddha statues, all this is like a good travel book peppered with adventures, which so far, knock on wood, all end well. I am hungry for the next kilometres and places on this continent which I still know so little about…