Chasing Italians, Jumping-jax, & A cart full of apples

Days #48-50

Since we left Tula, people along the way tell us there are two Italians, a man and a woman, on their bicycles headed towards Golmud. They are 3 days ahead. Every time we stop, we get a little more description. I make a composite of them in my head; one is rather fat according to one man, the woman had a nose ring and long blond hair, they speak absolutely no Mandarin...... I want to meet them, see what they are carrying, see where they are coming from. I am now more eager to get to Golmud.

We are climbing a couple of hills. At the top of the highest one, I see a monk in the distance making a pilgrimage to Lhasa. He prostrates, clasping his hands together, raising them high, then to his chest and then stretching his entire body on the ground, getting up, taking two steps and repeating. As I take out two pears to offer him and discreetly try to take a picture from up top, the monk stands up and does a jumping jack to catch our attention. We've been spotted. So we cycle down to meet him.

He is a 29 year old monk, as sweet as could be, and is actually passing Lhasa to reach Dharamsala where the Dalai Lama lives. His journey will take him 7 years. He covers 3km a day. He travels with a bicycle-wagon loaded with all his necessities. He invites us to spend the night with him; we gladly accept. We sit down and enjoy a quiet conversation. He has also taken a vow of silence, but I understand him much better that most people. He is expressive and patient and creative in his explanations, using the sand as drawing board. He pulls out his large stove to heat water and we eat tsampa loaded with sugar and 'talk' until late. We set up out tent beside his bike; he unloads everything and sleeps inside. In the morning he takes his bike a ways ahead, walks back to where he last prayed, puts his two wooden planks on his hands and continues his pilgrimage. When he reaches his bike, he pushes it further and walks back to continue.

The desert is here and when the clouds leave, the sun blisters shamelessly. It is day 50 and we are 140km away from Golmud. The road is straight as a needle and the wind is blowing exactly in the opposite direction. In the distance I see a tractor pulling up onto the road 2km ahead. It turns towards Golmud. Thank you! So my sister and I take turns every 3km breaking the wind, pushing hard until we reach the tractor pulling a cart full of apples. We ride up close and draft off them. What a difference! What a relief! It takes little time for them to warm up to us, soon after they start reaching over giving us apples to eat as we ride. We give them peanuts and raisins when they stop for a break. We keep each other company for 40km until they turn off onto a smaller road. The wind dies down and a slight decline allows us to reach Golmud that night.

We haven't seen the Italians yet.