Surly They Won't Make It

28/7/25

Exhaustion overwhelmed us. It took all our willpower not to succumb to staying in bed all day. Checking on the map for any possible way to shorten the day as we ate breakfast. Wheeling the bikes out of the hotels back office we were straight into the attentive gaze of the master of life. The Sun. 

Our route took us through the last remains of shade beside a cliff while taking on a steep climb. We couldn’t help but think “fuck this” to ourselves. As we reached the top we noticed there was actually a cycle path of glory alongside the road. The wide path went on for miles and of course was occasionally frequented by scooters. We descended next to the stagnant lake and then the last vestiges of shade disappeared. We were exposed, hot and tired. It felt very much like a bit of a slog. What else could it be after the traumatically long day we’d endured the day before?

The sounds of cicadas accompanied us. We looked at pretty flowers. If it hadn’t for the burning heat it would have been an idyllic place to cycle. Across the Dadu the Kunming-Chengdu was frequented by loud little shunts. At the next little shop we saw we stopped for water and pepsi. The heat was defeating. At least the cycle path gave us relief. It was implausible that people didn’t realise how much hotter the Earth was getting.

Temperatures were 7C above average. Not for one or two weeks but sustained for 7 weeks in a row. Perhaps what we’re experiencing is malaise. Just like in relation to Gaza. Perhaps it’s not intentional and deliberate. Perhaps it’s just an unwillingness to care. Or perhaps the heat and excess carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is affecting peoples brain! It was unlikely people didn’t want to act or couldn’t act, but that they were incapacitated by invisible forces.

The heavily funded cycle path took us across a town on stilts. After traversing a section of road with gorgeous overhanging cliffs, predictably, we reached a dam. The heat continued to be oppressive. The vegetation drove the humidity up. It was approaching dangerous. We just tried to drink as many fluids as possible. The road turned to melt proof concrete. Lorries happily passed us closely as we left the river behind and headed up into jungle. High up above us we could see the trail of trucks carving out the way to come. 

Running on fumes, sweating from places we didn’t know it was possible to sweat from, we developed a renewed determination to get to the next town. The descent was brutal on our hands. The concrete road was bumpy, but at least it hadn’t turned to slop in the heat. At the bottom we drank almost a litre of orange juice.

Every truck in the country appeared to be on the G348, it was no longer quiet like the S309. It was leafy and shaded though. There was even a good breeze. A couple of small hills but we mostly went downhill. Stupidly, we thought the S430 would be quieter than the G348. It wasn’t. Taking us through an extensive and unforgiving industrial estate, we inhaled horrific fumes while climbing absurd hills. It was an immense relief when it was over and we’d plonked ourselves in the fanciest hotel available.

Shawan was fun to walk around. We were greeted warmly and called out to, the most amusing being a minibus full of firefighters. We arrived just as a little night market was setting up. Naturally we feasted on barbecue before finding a tasty ice powder dessert. A collection of glutinous rice, chewy bits and a caramel sauce.