tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229663172024-03-08T10:32:49.677+01:00KITMAX Blog - Art, Travel and PhotographyKit Constable-Maxwell travelogues.
Classic cars, Sahara travels. Parent site www.kitmax.comkitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-30943587031282446352014-07-20T11:02:00.001+02:002014-08-04T10:53:28.542+02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The July 2014 Alpine run was a thrilling challenge <br />of man and machine
negotiating high passes <br />between France and Italy.</span></span></div>
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and the <br />off-road driver was Kit Constable Maxwell.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">To read about it, copy this address </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">into your web browser <a href="http://www.kitmax.com/"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="color: #003399; font-size: medium;">www.kitmax.com</span></span></a></span></span></div>
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kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-75929721812178091002013-05-06T12:58:00.001+02:002013-05-06T12:58:51.322+02:00Travels in May 2013<DIV dir=ltr> <DIV style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial'; COLOR: #000000"> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto"><B><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: arial; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"><FONT style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt">Newsflash - Far horizons, Portugal off-road</FONT></SPAN></B><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"></SPAN></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto"><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-family: arial; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"><FONT style="FONT-SIZE: 13.5pt">The tents are packed, the desert dinners in stock and the route plotted on 'Google Earth'. Navigator Raymond Bird and photographer Kit Constable Maxwell depart for Portugal on May 7th</FONT></SPAN><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"></SPAN></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto"><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-family: arial; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"><FONT style="FONT-SIZE: 13.5pt">We take the Brittany ferry to Santander, then drive to Bragança, Portugal.<BR>From this point we follow tracks and trails, camping en-route, crossing upland country, nature reserves and national parks.</FONT></SPAN><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"></SPAN></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto"><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-family: arial; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"><FONT style="FONT-SIZE: 13.5pt">We will live off local produce supplemented by soya stew and vac-packed ingredients from the Kitmax TwinTop Tuckbox.</FONT></SPAN><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"></SPAN></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto"><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-family: arial; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"><FONT style="FONT-SIZE: 13.5pt">We carry recovery skids, a hi-lift winch, extra fuel and water, two tents and sleeping bags. Maximum altitude will be around 6,000ft. There will be rivers to cross and steep sided gorges to negotiate. </FONT></SPAN><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"></SPAN></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto"><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-family: arial; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"><FONT style="FONT-SIZE: 13.5pt">The trip will be the subject of an illustrated talk later in the year. Check this website <A href="http://www.kitmax.com/"><SPAN style="COLOR: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt"><FONT color=#003399>www.kitmax.com</FONT></SPAN></A> for updates.</FONT></SPAN><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"></SPAN></P> <DIV align=center> <TABLE class=MsoNormalTable style="BORDER-TOP: #663300 3pt outset; BORDER-RIGHT: #663300 3pt outset; BORDER-BOTTOM: #663300 3pt outset; COLOR: #000000; BORDER-LEFT: #663300 3pt outset; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; mso-cellspacing: 1.5pt" cellPadding=0 width=500 border=1> <TBODY> <TR style="HEIGHT: 133.5pt; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes"> <TD style="BORDER-TOP: #663300 1pt inset; BORDER-RIGHT: #663300 1pt inset; BORDER-BOTTOM: #663300 1pt inset; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0.75pt; PADDING-TOP: 0.75pt; PADDING-LEFT: 0.75pt; BORDER-LEFT: #663300 1pt inset; PADDING-RIGHT: 0.75pt; mso-border-alt: inset #663300 .75pt" height=178> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" align=center><B><I><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"><FONT face="Times New Roman">Proposed route through Portugal</FONT><BR></SPAN></I></B><B style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb; mso-no-proof: yes"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-prmN9Y8iegc/UYeM6-Y6vBI/AAAAAAAAJtA/a-tkiYqCjZs/s1600/clip_image002%255B2%255D-731322.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-prmN9Y8iegc/UYeM6-Y6vBI/AAAAAAAAJtA/a-tkiYqCjZs/s320/clip_image002%255B2%255D-731322.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5874819183735913490" /></a></SPAN></B><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: en-gb"></SPAN></P></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></DIV></DIV></DIV>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-28085255410380343392012-09-11T09:55:00.000+02:002012-09-11T09:55:08.115+02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #660000;">This blog is a test message for a fellow blogger</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To enter a picture, click the 'Insert Image' icon on ther blogsite toolbar, then browse for the image.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9GTWJBtEp64/UE7tRi5qumI/AAAAAAAAId0/ID5feYL-MUI/s1600/Charles_X_Roi_de_France.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9GTWJBtEp64/UE7tRi5qumI/AAAAAAAAId0/ID5feYL-MUI/s320/Charles_X_Roi_de_France.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>
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You can then insert a text description or other information as required. <br />This is a picture of Charles 1st of France, successor to Napoleon</div>
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kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-48487301910666745102012-09-05T20:50:00.002+02:002013-05-06T13:15:05.512+02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;">Yetminster has a NEW Art Gallery.</span></h2>
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It is called the OLD SCHOOL GALLERY and is run by Sarah Hedin.
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<br />“I want a shop window for all the great artistic talent in the area” says Sarah
“and hold regular exhibitions, teach-ins and master classes here at the Old School Gallery”.</h2>
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<br />The gallery is also a renowned cafe serving delicious local fare lunches and snacks throughout the day.
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Keep in contact at ...
<br /><a href="http://yetminstergallery.co.uk/">http://yetminstergallery.co.uk/</a>
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kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-49278756730413461962011-05-31T13:16:00.001+02:002012-09-29T17:19:38.342+02:00Web Blog post no 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: en-gb;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">Todra Gorge is a spectacular cleft in the rocks, cut aeons ago by the river coursing through the narrow gorge, draining show-melt from the <br />central Atlas mountains. At this time of the year we could still drive through the narrows and admire the great cliffs bordering either side. At it's narrowest it is only a few metres wide and it is a truly powerful experience to pass through. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: en-gb;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">From here we drove to Ouarzazate and then to Agdz, a small market town at the head of the Drâa valley. The scenery turned increasingly spectacular as we drove up and up into the Atlas highlands. <br />We peaked in mid-morning at 4,000 ft and drove through a barren, lifeless terrain which developed slowly into productive land. There <br />was some agricultural terracing to be seen and eventually our route accompanied a small stream. This developed during our journey. As we <br />descended the faster flowing water supported a string of oases and palmeries. <br />We reached a small gorge where the water sparkled on the morning sun. Up the cliff we heard bells announcing a nearby flock. Over the crest <br />appeared a hundred sheep and goats. They proceeded to descend the near vertical cliff with a sure-footedness that was amazing to watch. <br />They all descended safely and we continued our journey south through this spectacular valley and welcomed the increasing verdance as we <br />descended. <br />We reached the one-horse town of Zagora, gateway to the desert. Only 42 days by camel to Timbuktu, we were told… <br />After a rest stop in a good campsite, to repack and re-plan, we ventured off down a desert piste to Foum Zguid. This rough track started well <br />but petered out after 30 rattling miles at the edge of a deep wadi. I prospected on foot and chose a route across the great rock-strewn <br />divide, and having no low gear had to advance at the wrong speed for the terrain. <br />The first part went quite well, the wadi was about 75 yards wide at this point, but then I hit a patch of sand which gave way under the <br />left rear wheel as I drove over it. In front was a rock the size of an armchair. Next to it was an un-climbable sand bank and upstream was <br />our only exit. I applied more power, the mobile suspension gripped the uneven the contours and we shot out of the wadi to a hoot of joy from <br />Raymond, a gasp of relief from me… and a cheer from a shepherd who quickly told us we had come the wrong way! <br />The Discovery excelled itself. <br />I knew I was uncomfortably close to tipping the vehicle that time and was much relieved to regain level ground afterwards. The shepherd <br />received a stylo biro and some melted sweets for his helpful comments. <br />We hit the Foum Zguid junction, turned north and proceeded to Tazenakht, the carpet-weaving centre of the Atlas. Raymond bought two <br />excellent Berber carpets while I ordered a splendid chicken tazine lunch for us both. <br />We camped at Tafaroute which supported a splendid swimming pool. We were the only guests there. Dinner was brought out to us at our tent, <br />and we dined by candle light under the full moon. <br />The next phase of the journey was a long and exciting drive northwards through the Anti Atlas, our road clinging to the side of <br />precipitous falls and spectacular scenery. We saw many striped squirrels. Here and there we would see big blue lizards running across <br />the hot tarmac with their tails held high. Also many small birds, finches, skylarks and a few soaring eagles. <br />We crossed the mountain range, reached Agadir and stared on the long journey home. <br />We stayed at Marrakech for a night and then camped near the important Roman town of Volubilis next day. <br />We have had a full, colourful and very enjoyable voyage and are now heading home through Spain. <br />This will be the last blog post in this series. In a short time I shall have photographs and text on the website at </span><a href="http://www.kitmax.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia;">http://www.kitmax.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: black;"> <br />Keep tuned in …</span></span></span></div>
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kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-7552281781738140262011-05-22T17:54:00.001+02:002011-05-22T17:54:59.248+02:00Blog post Morocco 2Erfoud to Merzouga<p>The stillness of the desert at the campsite was only disturbed by a<br>dog's concert that night, where every canine in the countryside joined<br>in.<br>We left that morning for Erg Chebbi, near Merzouga, an isolated<br>offshoot of the Great Western Erg across the border in Algeria.<br>The route led east across a wide stony desert, wretchedly lifeless,<br>with only the occasional wadi sustaining a few goats and the odd<br>camel.<br>We were convinced from our research that there was a fairly strong<br>piste to be found around the east side of the Chebbi dunes, but all<br>our waypoints and two gps navigators failed to reveal the unmarked<br>trail we sought.<br>After a long drive we arrived unexpectedly at the dunes, a majestic<br>and spectacular formation. This isolated sand sea rises unannounced<br>from a flat stony desert, a great golden erg stretched into the desert<br>haze. Whispering winds sculpt the sand into a maze of crests and<br>curves, hollows and heights all basking in the morning sun.<br>We were at the northernmost tip. Across the sand, Raymond assured me,<br>lay our trail. However we were travelling alone and I didn't want to<br>enter the sands without a backup car.<p>And while we discussed the options, unfortunately the Disco made the<br>decision for us. Reaching for the low ratio gearing, the selection<br>lever failed to engage, indicating a broken linkage. Sand requires<br>power and the right gearing is essential, and now we didn't have it. A<br>quick check revealed the link was inaccessible without extensive<br>stripping down. We were now in a deep trough of sand and I had to<br>apply serious shunting, clutch slipping and engine overheating to get<br>extricated.<br>That marked the end of that particular sand crossing and we re-routed<br>across the gravel plain to Merzouga, and drove the easier west side of<br>the dune instead.<p>Our route continued up the Todra gorge by way of Rissani and Tinerhir<br> and we found a wonderful waterside campsite for the night.<br>-- <br> K. Constable Maxwell<br> <a href="mailto:kit@kitmax.com">kit@kitmax.com</a><br> Website: <a href="http://www.kitmax.com">www.kitmax.com</a>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-51045447069240211462011-05-16T23:03:00.001+02:002011-05-16T23:03:28.027+02:00Bird and Maxwell desert progress, Morocco May 2011<div><strong><font size="4">Raymond Bird and Kit Constable-Maxwell in Africa.</font></strong></div> <div><font size="4">Our 'Bay of Biscay' crossing passed in a flash - and we reached the Spanish coastal port of Almeira on the third day, took the night boat to Melilla. </font></div> <div><font size="4">With lots of African hassle at the Moroccan border, we were well assisted by a self-appointed border guide. </font></div> <div><font size="4">A cash machine exchanged our pounds for dirhms and we were through the 'Douanes' in two intensive hours, free to travel.</font></div> <div><font size="4">We drove south and soon reached the open desert.</font></div> <div><font size="4">We turned off the tarmac at Bouarfa on day two and made a long challenging desert crossing on a rough, unsurfaced trail. </font></div> <div><font size="4">It was bumpy, dusty and HOT... I reminded Raymond that this is what we had come for.</font></div> <div><font size="4">There were a number of confusing breaks in the the trail where we would stop, check our compass, maps and GPS position.</font></div> <div><font size="4">Raymond's navigation was very well researched, all well backed with satellite images.</font></div> <div><font size="4">Six hours later we reached a stone-built desert refuge at the head of a long fertile, dried river course, a 'wadi'.</font></div> <div><font size="4">This was a vital landmark and we turned down the wadi with some relief.</font></div> <div><font size="4">We emerged several hours later at the 'Source Bleu', a campsite I had visited on my last trip some years ago.</font></div> <div><font size="4">It was nurturend by running water and an abundantly shady palmerie.</font></div> <div><font size="4">My old contact Joussef came out of the shadows to welcome me like a long lost friend - an amazing feat of memory !</font></div> <div><font size="4">A happy evening followed with a grand desert dinner from the 'Kitmax Twin-top Tuckbox' and a bottle of wine smuggled from Spain.<br clear="all"></font><br>-- <br> K. Constable Maxwell <br> <a href="mailto:kit@kitmax.com">kit@kitmax.com</a><br> Website: <a href="http://www.kitmax.com">www.kitmax.com</a><br><br><br></div> kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-39254035478913449322011-04-28T22:47:00.007+02:002011-05-01T15:50:48.023+02:00<div dir="ltr"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"><strong>Morocco 2011,<br />Desert, Mountains and Sand<br /></strong></span><strong>A photo-safari to record desert images for future travel lectures. </strong></div><br /><div dir="ltr"><strong><br /></strong><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;">Kit Constable Maxwell and Dr Raymond Bird will be launching an overland trip to south east Morocco in May 2011. We depart on May 3<sup>rd</sup> and return at the end of the month.<br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;">We shall navigate mountain tracks and donkey trails in the Atlas Mountains. We'll camp out in the desert sands, bask in the silence of the Sahara and sleep under the great African panoply of stars.<br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;">Our home will be this sun-saturated, camel-powered desert environment where time has stood still for centuries.<br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;">The trip will take us from Portsmouth across the Bay of Biscay to Santander, 600 miles through Spain to Almeria, and then across the Mediterranean to Nador, Eastern Morocco.<br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;">We shall drive eastwards to the Algerian border and trek down the edge of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:100%;">'Erg Occidental'</span> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span style="font-size:0;"></span></span></span></i>sand sea. We shall reach Erg Chebbi, 500 miles to the south and then cross the Drâa valley, course of the longest river in Morocco. This valley drains the centre of the Anti Atlas mountains and hosts many of the historic sultanates and domains. We will examine some of the old Sultan's castles described by Gavin Maxwell in his 1966 book <u>'Lords of the Atlas</u>'<br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;">The trip will cover some 3,000 miles. We will collect emails periodically.</span></div>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-54876384226985172622009-11-13T09:40:00.006+01:002011-05-02T12:03:46.670+02:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><strong>An amazing expedition, now safely completed.</strong><br /><strong>Khara Khoto Fort in the Gobi Desert, Inner Mongolia.<br />Mazartag Fort in the Taklamakan desert, China.</strong><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:Arial;">For a preliminary selection of pictures, click here...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Click on the first picture to enlarge it, then click the <em>'next'</em> arrow to view.</span><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kitmaxx/0911GobiTravels"><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>http://picasaweb.google.com/kitmaxx/0911GobiTravels</strong></span></a><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong># </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-65626774834650376132009-11-01T11:08:00.007+01:002009-12-16T22:26:51.632+01:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Rockets and Forts in the Gobi</strong></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">25th October 2009</span></em> - We drove North and reached the well laid-out town of Jiayuguan. Here we visited the great Ming fort. This historic building stands on a big hill which marks the very edge of the Gobi desert. It is a formidable structure with high walls, double ramparts, guard house, battlements and ornate, pagoda-styled watch towers. It presided over the changing loyalties of the Mongolian border and manned the patrols on this section of the Great Wall. The 'Wall' itself is unbreachable and runs from a precipitous gorge at one side before snaking off across the mountains on the other. The whole fortification is a tiumph of medieval engineering and tactical design and a grand statement of pure military might. Little surprise it was never taken.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">26th October 2009</span></em> - Our journey across the Gobi continues. We drove northwards up the Ruo Shui river which rises in far-away Tibet and flows right across the Gobi desert. It disappears into lake Sogo Nur on the Mongolian border. The fertile banks support good cultivation as we started and this thinned out and disappeared as we reached deeper into the Gobi.<br /><br />The road was well surfaced and clearly a military supply route. We reached a flat barren tract of desert, as flat as the eye could see, and we knew we were entering China's top secret defence installation and rocket launch site. We concealed all maps, <em>'gps'</em> receivers and cameras. We were stopped at a checkpoint where our passports were submitted for examination. The guard looked us up and down suspiciously and then rang through our details to the guard commander.<br />"Four eenglish tavellers, all velly old, combined ages 300 years..."<br />"Ah ! So...", spluttered the captain, "300 years... let them pass".<br /><br />We were waved onto a desert piste which by-passed the military garrison and rejoined the surfaced road further on. A fighter aircraft zoomed low overhead and then landed nearby. By the hangar were rows of fighter aircraft lined up. On our south side were numerous radar tracking installations. The barbed wire boundary fence went on and on until we reached another check point. And there, directly ahead was the rocket launch pad, clear for all to see.<br /><br />James Bond would have been amazed. Jian-Hu was amazed too, this uninhabited and highly sensitive area had been out of bounds to Chinese and foreigners alike, until very recently. The secrecy of the site had been blown away when NASA published satellite pictures of the whole world on the internet. No hiding place remains and we identified the rocket site from the Google Earth picture we (improperly) carried with us.<br /><br />However we are not spies and our goal lay further north. We sped on towards Mongolia across the increasingly barren reaches of the Gashun Gobi until we could see, in the far distance, the outline of hills that mark the Mongolian Border. We were nearing our goal, Khara Khoto.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">29 October 2009</span></em> -<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The medieval fort of Khara Khoto</span></strong> lay some way off our route and Ray Bird had prepared satellite pictures and gps fixes determining our turn-off point across the sand. But we were surprised, and a little disappointed, to find a newly consructed road leading to the fort. We thought we would be blazing a new trail to this forgotten fort but the Chinese Ministry of Culture had got there first.<br /><br />The town was sacked in 1372 when the first Ming Emperor chased off the Mongol invaders. They had been in residence since 1227 when Ghengiz Khan invaded it. After a fearsome fight, all the Mongol occupants were slaughtered and the town was abandonned to the Gobi sands for over 500 years. It was rediscovered by a Russian archaeolgist around 1910. Few people have visited since but all that looks set to change with China's current tide of enthusiam for Chinese tourism. With the convenience of a graded road we arrived early entered the town by the West Gate and spent a long and interesting time reliving the known history and examining the ruins.<br /><br />Our visit was the grand finale for our long planned and long travelled journey. We walked and climbed among the abandoned fortifications and cherished the memories of this vibrant border town. The great central square was contained by soaring walls, surmounted at one coner by several Buddhist stupa shrines. The river Ruo Shui provided water, the water provided trees and shade for the animals, crops and grazing, and to all external signs the fort was invincible. History dictated otherwise, however, and only memories and legend now survive. The massive walls were never breached but trickery and a siege starved the fort of water and the end was just a matter of time.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;">* Footnote from </span></em><a href="http://www.kitmax.com/"><em><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;">www.kitmax.com</span></em></a> <span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;">In 1372 Genghis Khan's influence was on the wane and China's new Ming Dynasty was exerting its authority. The great desert fort of Khara Khoto was protected by unassailable walls and maintained by a formidable army. A frontal attack was clearly impractical. So the wily Ming emperor marshalled a great force to dig a canal to divert the river - and then they waited…</span> <p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;">The Mongol leader, Khara Bator, soon realised his fate. He dug a deep well which failed to supply water. Fearful of capture, he killed his own family before throwing his treasures down the well and running on his sword. The Chinese entered the town and slaughtered the occupants 'like cattle' and left the bodies unburied in the main square.</span><span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;">The city was never reoccupied and gained a ghostly reputation. It became known as the 'Black City' and is shunned by the Chinese and Mongolians alike.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;">The city was claimed by the desert sands and is now only distinguishable by it's 30ft ramparts, crumbling temples and many bleached bones.</span></p><br />Our visit to Khara Khoto fulfilled all expectations and we started our long journey home with a sense of satisfaction and achievement. We crossed another 800km of Inner Mongolia to reach the northbound stretch of the Yellow River at Yinchuan. The Yellow River makes a curious 180 degree turn and we reached it again, a whole day later, on it's south-bound run at Wubu. Then another long drive through gorges and mountains into central China.<br /><br />We reached Pingyao in the late afternoon. This extraordinary walled city is locked in it's own time capsule, embodying the best of 300 years of Chinese history. People live and work in this ancient city, cars are banned and tourists flock to see the cobbled streets and the ancient sites. There are Taoist shrines here, Buddhist temples and even a Christian church. It's medieval perfection is so convincing it looked like a Hollywood film set.<br /><br />Then Datong, the home of many spectacular Buddhist shrines built under and adjacent to the Great Wall. Tomorow Beijing, the Forbidden City and our flight home.<br /><br />This will be the last web-log post this series. Website and pictures will follow. Keep tuned in to <a href="http://www.kitmax.com/">http://www.kitmax.com/</a><br /><br />Raymond Bird, Philippa Treadwell, Suzie Rae, Kit Constable Maxwellkitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-82626225951269183772009-10-31T14:33:00.001+01:002009-10-31T14:33:58.522+01:00Yardangs and Buddhist temples, Post 4<div><strong><font size="4">Yardangs and Buddhist temples at Dunhuang</font></strong></div> <div><em><font size="1">20 October 2009</font></em> - The windscreen was frozen up in the morning and we were glad to have our cold-weather gear; we crossed the main street to have breakfast in a cafe opposite. There was a solid-fuel stove inside which kept us warm and kept the rice soup boiling. Menu highlights were the crispy-fried doughnuts accompanied by boiled eggs, all eaten with chopsticks.</div> <div> </div> <div>Our route took us northwest through the mountains. We reached 3,670 m altitude. The desert area of Lop Nor and the Wild Camel reserve lay to our east and the snow-clad 20,000ft Altun mountains lay to our south. It was a rewarding drive with fine-ridged dunes telling tales of whispering winds... We saw camels, ptarmigan (the Chinese call them <em>'snow chickens'</em>) and several mounted nomads herding large flocks of sheep across brown, barren upland valleys.</div> <div> </div> <div>We reached Dunhuang, a great historic trading post on the Silk Road where traders were faced with two risky decisions - to proceed north around the Taklamakan Desert, a route described by Ghengis Khan as <em>'hostile and ghostly'</em>, or the southerly route from where we had just travelled. Both were full of dangers, not to mention bandits, and many traders and their beasts perished to the unkown demands of this hostile desert. Dunhuang is now a well presented and colourful town, sunny and warm after our mountain journey. We had a spicy Sichuan dinner to celebrate our arrrival.</div> <div> </div> <div><em><font size="1">21 October 2009</font></em> - We travelled to the Mogao Caves nearby to visit one of the great centres of early Buddhism. Nothing prepares us for the size, variety and quality of the 800 - 1,000 year old temples. They are all hewn out of solid rock and most are high up on the cliff-face where we need to ascend steps to reach them. Sculpture and paintings reside on a backdrop of carefully worked design in an endless series of symmetrically configured caves. We saw big Buddhas and giant Buddhas, some with their bodhisattva attendants and all defended by fearsome demons. The whole cliff-face is hollowed out into caves, some huge. It is an amazing site and was so important to the old silk traders making their offerings before venturing out into the desert beyond.</div> <div> </div> <div><font size="1"><em>22 October 2009 - </em><font size="2">We visited Charley Jhong's Cafe in the town and were served a welcome fried-egg breakfast and toast. Then we drove to the historic 'Jade Gate', and important 1,700 year old fort on the silk road where traders would be charged a fee in return for safe conduct. We examined the ancient section of the Great Wall which marked territorial boundaries while giving protection against invaders. We visited the garrison storehouse too, and great building on the river which provided for the needs of the fort.</font></font></div> <div> </div> <div>A short way beyond we arrive at the 'desert yardangs', a curious and enticing geological formation. Neat rows of rock march abreast across the sands.They are the result of age-old erosion leaving corridors of sand separated by walls of hard bed-rock. Some fomations have developed into rock islands, but all rmain firmy aligned with their rocky neigbours.</div> <div> </div> <div><em><font size="1">24th Octoer 2009 - </font></em>Some of the bigest dunes in China occur in the Gashun Gobi at Dunhuang, and we drove a few miles to this awesome formation. Philippa, Suzi and I hired a camel each and were led up to the crest of a 600ft dune. From here we looked down on a rolling sand-sea stretching off across the desert, a formidable barrier to both man and beast.</div> <div> </div> <div>Afterwards we walked to a dune-locked lake nearby with a small island on it, a Llama's retreat from times past. Emotive, timeless and beautiful.</div> <div> </div> <div><em><font size="1">24th Octoer 2009</font></em> - We drove all morning to a long forgotten gorge on the Yulin river. Here we came suddenly upon a honeycomb of Buddhist temples, all carved high into the canyon walls. A small entrance led into a narrow passage which connected the caves together. Each cave is big, spacious and filled with modelled and polychromed sculptures and carvings. The walls are richly decorated too and most date from around 1000<font size="1">AD</font>. We are the only visitors.The site matches the Mogao caves for general style and quality, and exceeds them for the greater variety of images. In one central cavern stands an immense Buddha nearly 80ft tall, and we looked in awe at the might and majesty of this engaging image.</div> kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-65473905211057952732009-10-28T09:25:00.000+01:002009-10-28T09:26:00.748+01:00Desert picnic on the Silk Road, Blog post 3<div><strong><font size="4">Desert and mountain, picnic on the Silk Road </font></strong></div> <div><em><font size="1">17th October 2009</font></em> - We left Hotan and made good time driving east along the Silk Road. After a very desolate stretch where the mountains loomed in the morning mist, we reached several oases served by rivers running off the Tibetan plateau.</div> <div>Maize is grown here, and dates. There are a few cattle and some goats and sheep. Soon we see our first camels too, Bactrian double-humpers being herded by cameleers on motor cycles. The road is unsurfaced and the terrain sandy. It is hot, dusty, bumpy and slow. Eventually we reach the small but nicely laid out town of Minfeng where we stop.</div> <div> </div> <div><font size="1"><em>18th October 2009</em></font> - It is noticeably colder now and we rug up for the next section. Rivers flowing out of the Altun Mountains are diverted into irrigation systems before being swallowed up in the desert. We pass a very large melon plantation with uncountable melons being loaded onto 30 ton trucks for transporting to city markets far away.</div> <div> </div> <div>We branched onto a desert section of the old silk road, a wide highway newly resurfaced in black tarmac. We stopped for lunch and laid out our picnic on the main road, just in front of the car. Jian-Hu didn't pull off to one side, he just stopped the car on the highway. Cars and trucks passed occasionally in each direction. We watched anxiously and winced occasionally... but this is the Chinese way, and it worked for us too.</div> <div> </div> <div>Our Chinese guide, Jian-Hu, is a star performer and has proved himself worthy of his fine reputation. He is capable, charming, effective, enthusiastic and humorous. He negotiates prices for us, chooses our menus, introduces us to locals, makes us laugh, researches our route and chooses our campsites and hotels. He makes friends wherever he goes, we get waved through check points, get priority service in stores and are given private rooms in restaurants. He can draw a smile from the most sombre bureaucrats and has doubled the enjoyment and success of our expedition. And best of all, he is enjoying every minute of it too.</div> <div> </div> <div><font size="1"><em>19th October</em></font><font size="2"> Ruoquing - Today started badly... and got worse.After we left the town we were stopped for reasons which were not fully explained and compelled to join a growing traffic queue. Our early start ebbed into a late start. Eventually we were waved on to find our newly built road had been closed and we were compelled to divert onto the old dusty, wornout desert piste.</font></div> <div> </div> <div>Three hours later Jian-Hu remembered he'd left his wallet under pillow back in the hotel. We turned around promptly and hastened back to Ruoquing, thankfully retireving the lost wallet, and then we retraced our steps. By lunchtine we had only advanced a third of our way.</div> <div> </div> <div>We reached the 2<em><font size="1">nd</font></em> C Tibetan ruins of Miran, now just a pillar of stones in the desert, and were greeted by a surly warden and his scowling missus. The entrance fee was an unbelievable £250.00 for the four of us. Much negotiation followed, all without a breakthrough; even the ever charming Jian-Hu was floored. So we made our feelings known and moved on - we still had a long way to go. Miran fort was never a major objective so we didn't mind too much, and once back on the main piste were were able to climb a dune and view the ruins from the top.</div> <div> </div> <div>Now we were on the old Silk Road again and entered a strategic mountain pass - countless traders would have trod this historic ground trough the ages, and we treasured the experience. We reached a high upland valley where the piste was badly deteriorated. We thundered on through billowing sand and suffocating dust, circling the deepest dust bowls and breaking new ground through the scrub, the rocks and the dried river beds.We were being thrown around in the car and were now over 8,000ft, and still climbing. Jian-Hu did a skilful job negotiating this hellish section. It was getting late and we didn't want to camp in this high, desolate, uninhabited place with only bandits and wolves for company.</div> <div> </div> <div>Whisky hour came and went as the sun sank lower and disappeared behing the mountainous rim of our high valley. The girls, Philippa and Suzi, never once complained, stalwart to the last. Raymond took GPS fixes and plotted them on his many maps, and I took fleeting photographs of soaring eagles, crags and the rocky sunset. Jian-Hu kept up a running commentary and drove with verve and determination. At over 10,500 ft we passed through China's big asbestos mine - we closed all windows and tried not to breathe too deeply.</div> <div> </div> <div>After 14 hours on the road we reached Huatuguo, a small mountain town, at 10.30pm and found a very welcome hotel for £16.00 per night. A gourmet meal appeared soon after. Our night's rest was never so well appreciated or so hard won.</div> kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-90038658909399179772009-10-27T15:00:00.001+01:002009-10-27T15:00:10.007+01:00China travels Blogsite, post 2<div> <div><font size="4"><strong>Silk spinners on the Silk Road </strong></font><font size="1"><em>16th October 2009</em></font></div> <div><font size="2">Nearing the jade centre of Hotan we stopped to visit a traditional silk mill. Silk-fledged cocoons bobbed about in a pan of warm water and the spinner attached a thread to the string of silk running onto the bobbin. Her spinning partner wound the spinning wheel by hand. </font><font size="2">Raw silk is coarse and joins on contact, but the process requires keen concentration and a practiced hand. </font><font size="2">When the cocoon was unwound it was discarded and another connected swiftly, without a pause or a break. The process is mesmerising and fascinating.</font></div> <div><font size="2"></font> </div> <div><font size="2">Suzi bought a nice silk carpet in the shop and we lunched in the shade of a grapevine before driving into town. This is a Uyghar moslem town and there is a grand minaret, but no mosque... just by the hotel. </font><font size="2">We walked down to a restaurant in a pedestrian area and had an excellent dinner. Jian-Hu chose many different dishes of meat and vegetable for us, and the bill came to under 10 Pounds UK for all five of us.</font></div> <div><font size="2"></font> </div> <div><font size="2">We visited the main museum of Hotan and saw an excellent presentation of archeological artefacts excavated from provinces on the Silk Road.These included prehistoric axe heads made from the very hard local jade, carved wood and bone figures revealing Buddhist and Indian influence, and a 1,000 year old mummified Chinese princess complete with her splendid, ornate wood coffin. Outside we saw local youths scouring the drying river bed for <em>'river jade'</em>.</font></div> <div><font size="2"></font> </div> <div><font size="2">We visited a jade-cutting factory and saw craftsmen at work. Diamond-tipped drills are used to work this hard stone. Philippa bought a jade camel and Raymond bought two jade elephants. Later we joined throngs of Uyghars in the covered shopping alleys where everything from silk, jade and domestic goods were on sale.</font></div> <div><font size="2"></font> </div> <div><font size="2">The Uyghar ladies dress elegantly with colourful head-scarves and long flowing dresses. Most of them ride a motor scooter, and most carry a friend riding side-saddle on the pillion seat. The Uyghar men wear a flat, embroidered pork-pie hat, dress usually in black and ride light motor cycles. Their passenger will be their wife, sister or cousin, usually carrying a babe-in-arms. All look cheerful and none wear helmets. Everyone drives very slowly and none observe traffic signs or lane discipline. </font></div> </div><br style="FONT-SIZE: 8px" clear="all"> kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-28116579474015228782009-10-23T09:32:00.002+02:002009-11-24T23:07:32.555+01:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Kashgar is an ancient trading city</span></strong> ... and is cradled in the converging arms of the ancient Silk Road. Travellers of old would circumnavigate the waterless wastes of the Taklamakan desert and trade their goods and livestock at Kashgar. We arrived here after a 38 hour journey on 4 aeroplanes, crossing 8 times zones and covering nearly 10,000 kilometers.<br /><br />Kashgar lies north of Kashmir and lies in that great central Asian basin bordered by Mongolia in the north, the Gobi desert in the East and Tibet in the south. It is now 7.00 am but won't be light for another two hours. Kashgar is on Beijing time <span style="font-size:78%;">(GMT+8)</span> but so far in the west that we have crossed three time zones to get here.<br /><br />Today we prepare our provisions for our camping trip across the desert. We assess our supply points with the help of our experienced Chinese guide, Jian-Hu. Our navigator is Ray Bird and we are accompanied by Philippa Treadwell and Suzie Rae, all of whom have travelled with Jian-Hu previously. We had a good trip to Kashgar's main square and viewed the enormous statue of Chairman Mao. The square was manned by soldiers in sandbagged machine gun posts and we were aware of the recent clashes between the Uyghar and Han people. The atmosphere in public areas was tense. We visited to old mosque too, set in a charming plantation of it's own.<br /><br />We left Kashgar and had a long and interesting drive east. We bordered the Tien Shan foothills and to the south lay the fertile and productive land of Mao's many <em>'collective farms'.</em> We passed through at least eight en-route, each covering many thousands of acres. Cotton was being harvested here, mainly by womenfolk, and one mother or father would look after a creche of children at the edge of a cotton field.<br /><br />After many twists and turns through lakes, rivers and irrigation canals we arrived at Aral and checked into a hotel. We saw herons and comorants en-route and passed a falconer flyng a sizeable eagle; hunting rabbit, we were told. We refuelled at Aral and drove south across the desert on a well-surfaced desert road. We wanted to visit an old Tibetan fort but it lay 5 miles off across the river Hotan. Could we get there, we asked ... Local research in the resthouse revealed that the river was low at this time and crossable - but it needed a Land Rover (<em><span style="font-size:78%;">Kit's words</span></em>) and we had just a road-going Honda 4x4.<br /><br />Jian-Hu set off cautiously on a very sandy piste. We got mildly stuck several times and walked most of the way to lighten the load. We reached the dried river bed, over half a mile wide at this point and drove onto the hard mud. Bar a few wet patches and some soft sand, we drove across and then down-river until we reached the foot of a great rocky cliff. On top were the ruins of an important Tibetan fort dating from the 1st century BC. Tomorrow we shall climb up to it.<br /><br />We made camp on a sandy bank at the foot of the promontary, collected driftwood and laid a fire. Ray Bird was the first to get his tent up and Philippa Treadwell was the first to get the whisky out. Suzi Rae and I have to run to keep up with these great, redoubtable octogenarians ! We met some Chinese geologists who were doing a land survey and we invited them to join us later.<br /><br />Jian-Hu then prepared us an excellent dinner of hot noodles, chicken quarters and beef slices. And then, to my complete surprise and delight, a grand birthday cake for me, complete with candles and a singing chime. Birthday wishes followed. The geologists arrived and we had a grand desert party around the camp fire. The sun sank behind the old fort and the first stars appeared. The party went on until all the Chinese <em>'Great Wall'</em> wine was finished. A birthday feast in the desert, what a unique and happy event it was!<br /><br />In the night our campsite was visited by a lone jackal whose wild, plaintive call echoed emotively across the starlit river bed. Paw-prints near my tent indicated he was after a tempting row of socks which were hanging out to dry on my guy ropes. He didn't risk it, however, and the socks were still there at dawn.<br /><br />October 15th 2009<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Visit to Mazartag Fort</span></strong><br />The old fort was reached after a long climb over rock and loose sand. It was sited in a commanding position on a great bluff of red rock marking a bend in the river. It was constructed of successive layers of stout timbers, bound in place by sun-baked mud over 2000 years ago. Nearby were two wood pens surrounding burial sites of ages past. Every detail of the fort was examined closely and we imagined this distant Tibetan outpost guarding their colonial interests long ago.<br /><br />We spent more time on our dry sandy bank before striking camp and setting off up-river again. We found, with some dificulty, the steep climb back onto the bank. We dismounted and pointed the heavily laden Honda at an angled approach. Exhorting Jian-Hu to <em>'make big speed'</em> the car reared up the bank, slithering sideways and scrambled to the top.It was a hazardous obstacle, the front wheel lifted fully clear of the ground and only the momentum stopped the car from rolling.<br /><br />After that we powered our way through much soft sand and arrived back at the desert road. We handed back the sand-shovel we had borrowed from the rest house, refuelled and set off again.kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-35177619968785359022009-09-28T15:22:00.001+02:002009-09-28T15:22:21.495+02:00Count down progresses<font size="4">Gobi trip on target for October 9th 2009 - watch this space<br></font> <div></div> <font size="1">K. Constable Maxwell, <br> <a href="mailto:kit@kitmax.com">kit@kitmax.com</a></font> kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-78316774145562532532009-09-20T17:41:00.002+02:002009-09-21T21:31:45.986+02:00<p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; mso-bidi-: EN-USfont-family:Arial;font-size:12;color:black;" ><span style="font-family:Arial;">Taklamakan desert</span></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-: EN-US;font-family:Arial;font-size:7;color:black;" ><br /></span><span style="FONT-SIZE: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-: EN-USfont-family:Arial;font-size:12;color:black;" ><span style="font-family:Arial;">The Taklamakan is a vast desert plateau with an average elevation of 4,250 feet. It is the largest expanse of barren sand in Central Asia, covering 200,000 square miles. Stony desert forms an outer ring at the edge of the basin; a soil-covered plain dotted with occasional vegetation forms another ring between the stony desert and the vast sandy interior of the basin. The basin is the most remote place on earth from any sea. Climate is extremely dry with annual rainfall less than three inches. 85 percent of the interior Takla Makan is composed of sand dunes from 300 to 600 feet high. In some places a growth of tamarisk stabilizes dunes. Groves of poplar grow along rivers that cross the basin, and forming a striking contrast to the surrounding hot, dry sandy desert.</span></span><span style="mso-bidi-: EN-US;font-family:Arial;font-size:13;color:black;" ><img border="0" src="cid:E132F365A5A9433187BBE96EFC073CA7@DELL" width="1" height="1" shapes="_x0000_i1025" /></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;font-family:'Times New Roman';" ><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em> Thank you 'spacecowboy2006' for this interesting post - we shall enjoy scrambling up those 600ft dunes</em></span>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-69188888377321409002009-09-20T14:12:00.001+02:002009-09-20T14:12:57.814+02:00Gobi Desert 2009<DIV><FONT face=Arial>My next desert trip starts in October <FONT size=2>2009</FONT> in Kashgar, North West China.</FONT></DIV> <DIV><FONT face=Arial>We drive across the Taklamakan Desert to Dunhuang and visit the 'Cave of 1,000 Buddhas' .</FONT></DIV> <DIV><FONT face=Arial>We enter the Gobi and </FONT><FONT face=Arial>travel to Khara Khoto, the 'Black City', lost for 700 years and now engulfed by desert sands. </FONT></DIV> <DIV><FONT face=Arial>More to follow...</FONT></DIV>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-71810238120235730812007-11-30T17:01:00.001+01:002009-02-02T10:29:09.180+01:00I sent this last blog post from a wind-up computer attached to a camel's hind leg...!<br />Sorry for the delays.<br />Raymond and I are now safely returned from our amazing expedition across Algeria.<br />Photographs will follow.<br />Keep tuned in for news... Kitmaxkitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-4755970625618912212007-11-28T22:25:00.001+01:002009-09-21T21:35:22.989+02:00<span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;"> <p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">TEFEDEST</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">We drove across the desert and arrived at theTefedest mountains, a traditional Touareg stronghold.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">The range is dominated by Mt Garet and we camped at the foot of the mountain.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">Next day we visited a lone pinnacle of rock far across the sands and discovered a charming canyon where we spent half the day. The pinnacle soared above the flat valley floor and the walls of the canyon were sprinkled with huge boulders. Little fox paw-prints scurrying about told of much nocturnal activity. </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">The Tefedest range is quite small, very remote and proved to be our guide's homeland. In the afternoon he took us on an amazing journey, up a wadi which got smaller and steeper and more barren.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">It was a very difficult drive indeed and I was beginning to wonder for our guide's sanity, when the mountain opened up into a small valley with a few reed houses and, surprisingly, a green and verdant plantation.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">"My garden" announced Mohammed, proudly, and there, fed by a year-long water source, was a verdant garden with figs, dates, herbs, greenery and plants . It was an extraordinary sight in this most barren of all mountain passes. </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">We left in the evening and returned to the plain and were passed by three racing camels in full colours, all of them known to our guide. Their riders joined us later for tea around the campfire.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">At dawn an old camel drover turned up in camp - I should have guessed, Mohammed's father. It was a great privilege to be among so many traditional Touareg and to share with them a glimpse of their unique and secretive lifestyle. </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">We arrived back at In-Salah after a most colourful, rewarding and fulfilling trip. We were greeted by our agent's family and had a traditional goat and couscous stew, seated on the floor in considerable discomfort and eating with our right hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Delicious! </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">We are now wending our way back to Europe. It is a long way...</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">Towns are about 500 miles apart down here, and we have a few towns to reach on our way back to Tunis and the ferry Mediterranee</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span> </p><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Comic Sans MS'; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-: EN-USfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" >Photographs will be posted on <span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Comic Sans MS'; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-: EN-USfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;" >the website after I get home in December.</span></span></span>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-46468596921800894632007-11-28T22:14:00.001+01:002009-09-21T21:36:29.002+02:00<span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;"> <p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">A lot has happened since our last blog. We had a good journey to Tamanrasset, bouncing down the Assekrem mountain was slightly easier than bouncing up it.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">We collected our escort back-up car and set out for the weirdly eroded rocks of Targrera. The back-up car was leaking fuel all the way and we sent it back with our guide for repair. </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">We spent a happy 24 hours exploring a remote desert canyon . At night we were surrounded by jackals, their plaintive calls wafting across the starlit plain at the foot of our canyon.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">The car arrived back a day later and then broke down again, and then had a succession of problems after which I voted it unusable.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">We dumped it in the desert and drove back to Tamanrasset. To give our agent his due, backed up by a couple of satellite calls to Switzerland (the Euro liaison team), a replacement car arrived and our trip continued.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">We had now lost 4 days and had to cancel our trip to Djanet and Mount Tazat:</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">However, all clouds have a silver lining and we then proceeded to have an unscheduled tour of some of the finest desert scenery North of Djanet and across the Amadror plain.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">On the way we passed 150 or more camels at a watering hole. They were being saddled up by a team of cameleers. The camels snort and roar, grunt and bellow, generally in good humour as the workers saddle up loads of water and feed for the journey ahead. A very colorful scene, traditional desert life unchanged for centuries. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><span style="mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >We reached the saltpans at Tissemt which was an important trading site. The salt was loaded onto camels and then taken to far-away Niger and traded for grain.</span></span>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-44377928806948053852007-11-09T21:30:00.002+01:002009-10-03T17:19:39.804+02:00<span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;"> <p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">The night was very cold and we were now over 9,000ft altitude. Oxygen was in short supply too and we felt quite breathless after exertion.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">Raymond and I pitched our tents on a rough patch of gravel. I cooked a dinner of vac-packed veal with spuds and onions from In-Salah.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">I awoke at dawn and set out to climb to the summit, 1,000 ft above us, to visit the Hermitage of Père Foucould.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">It was the incomparable Foucould, a Viscompte in his own right, a cavalry officer and latterly a committed hermit, who settled on this magnificent site to devote his life to prayer and meditation... and also to write a dictionary of the Tuaregs entire Tamashek language. </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">I puffed my way up the precipitous incline and reached, almost an hour later, the summit. The view is spectacular, unparalleled and showed a skyline bedecked with unworldly red-rock pinnacles, each one catching their first light of a new day. </p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">The Hermitage, built in 1910 is a small stone rectangle harbouring a tiny chapel. A stone altar is perched on three natural stone columns. A simple cross hangs on the end wall, and prayer mats are gazelle skins.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">Each of the two to three hermits lives alone in crude rocky shelters, and come together for communal prayer in the chapel.</p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal">20 years ago I met one of the hermits and he gave me his last cup of coffee. I vowed then that I would return one day to replenish his small stock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So it was with the greatest pleasure that I found the Padre hermit, reminded him of our meeting and presented him with coffee, sugar, milk and... two slices of Lyn's cake. He was thrilled and we chatted happily. He looked hardly a day older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Clearly a lift of hi-altitude abstention beckons - but who...</p></span>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-88609271801619389252007-11-08T11:19:00.001+01:002007-11-08T11:19:18.034+01:00<br clear="all"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS">The random pistes on the upper plains converge into a single snaking trail which wound it's way across the rising terrain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Here and there flash floods had swept away whole sections of the trail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Circuitous routes beckoned and the Land Rover bounced stoically across boulders, shale and steep inclines. </font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS"> </font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS">After 3 hours we had achieved 30km, not much above walking speed. After a brief stop we continued, we still had 45km and 4,000 feet to go. The trail got steeper and the landscape gave way to pinnacled ramparts enclosing secluded valleys, their entrance blocked by tumbled rocks the size of houses. </font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS"> </font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS">We left the piste and drove up a steep narrow wadi to cross a saddle between two towering pinnacles - it was a hair raising ascent as first one wheel lost grip on the slippery river bed and then another. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Beside was a 100 ft drop and we had already passed one wrecked car in a ravine far below. </font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS"> </font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS">The wadi could now be called more accurately a dry waterfall and had to be approached with carefully planned momentum and maximum traction. We made it, just and stopped on the saddle to admire the scenery. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Great pointed monoliths of fluted red rock thrust skywards and gave the landscape a quite surreal appearance.</font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS"> </font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><font face="Comic Sans MS">We arrived at Assekrem late, watched the setting sun spotlighting first one great towering pinnacle and then another.</font></p><br> kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-86487747493176738152007-11-07T19:47:00.000+01:002007-11-08T17:24:50.064+01:00<span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;">We drove to In-Amguel where we left the Tamanrasset road and struck east for the mountains. The piste wandered across fertile wadis separating rocky plains, and all the time rising.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><o:p><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;">We reached the little village of Hirafok, little changed since my last visit here 20 years ago. I recognised the tea house in the village centre, and those inquisitive kids must be the offspring of the inquisitive kids I met all that time ago. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><o:p><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;">We passed several groups of donkeys, strong animals and well marked in grey and black outline - quite unlike the working donkeys we saw in the towns.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><o:p><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="font-size:100%;">We camped in a soft sandy wadi. The night was cold and Mohammed lit a fire, with a single match, and we sat around it toasting our toes.</span></p></span><br /><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;"></span>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-78913861015256918092007-11-06T18:11:00.000+01:002007-11-06T18:28:16.046+01:00<DIV><FONT face="Comic Sans MS" size=2> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">We arrived at In-Salah early enough to spend a relaxed morning shopping for vegetables, dates and other supplies for our journey south.</P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">We met our guide, a tall welcoming Touareg called Mohammed. <SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>His wide winning smile augured well and his desert knowledge is unsurpassed. </P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> <o:p></o:p></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Next morning his chief, M Haffoui appeared. A distinguished man, carrying dignity and style, a great welcome and good language skills.</P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> <o:p></o:p></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">We left with Mohammed to drive the long route south. The road was well marked but badly deteriorated in parts.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>We reached Arag gorge, a tortuous and spectacular land fall and the scene of many battles in days past. We stopped to refuel and then pulled off into the desert to make camp for the night. <SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>We nestled into a hollow of the dunes and cooked up canned chicken accompanied by In-Salah vegetables.<o:p></o:p></P> <P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> <o:p></o:p></P></FONT></DIV>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22966317.post-19729292914888368872007-11-02T23:19:00.001+01:002007-11-06T18:28:32.984+01:00<div style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; FONT-FAMILY: times new roman, new york, times, serif"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">Raymond arrived at Tunis airport safe and sound. We left for the Algerian border next day. We crossed into Algeria and we had a long drive south and we reached In-Salah one day early. </span></div>kitmaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14717252681542546101noreply@blogger.com1