Motorcycle Journey Through China – Torugart Pass and Kyrgyz Wastelands

Our last night in Kyrgyzstan was largely sleepless. The nerves got to us. After all, crossing the Kyrgyz-Chinese border via the Torugart Pass — especially during civil unrest in China — was far from simple or obvious.

In the morning, we quickly ate breakfast — milk porridge, like in the old days — and hit the road. Thankfully, the weather was decent. We had a chance to cross the pass without snowstorms or downpours, which was a huge relief.

The first challenge was a river crossing — the same river I had gotten stuck in two days earlier. We were hoping the water level would be lower in the morning than it had been in the afternoon during our previous attempt. That’s usually how it goes here. Unfortunately, the night’s rain disrupted that pattern — the water was even higher.

We chose a slightly different line this time and… success! We crossed without taking a bath. Only our boots got soaked — the water was deep enough that there was no saving them.

It was about 90 kilometers of horrible, pothole-ridden gravel road to the first Kyrgyz checkpoint. The dust was unbelievable. I was riding second, so I looked like someone dusted with flour.

Another “river surprise” awaited us further along. One of the mountain streams had cut through the road, tearing out a several-meter-wide hole. Crossing was impossible — we had to detour straight through the riverbed.

That day, it felt like the rivers were determined to test us, and time was mercilessly slipping away. We had to hurry, as all the Kyrgyz and Chinese border checkpoints are spread out across 160 kilometers. They’re connected by a dreadful road, often blocked by mudslides. When one of those hits, the route can become impassable for many hours — or even days.

The Roar of Engines and a Curtain of Dust

We managed to cross the second river without a dip, although Jurek came dangerously close to an unplanned swim. We reached the Kyrgyz checkpoint around 9 a.m. Fortunately, the formalities went smoothly and without any issues.

A few days earlier, we had finalized the necessary documents in Naryn. The border guards asked about them, and everything checked out. After the first checkpoint, we still had about 70 kilometers to the main Chinese border.

Once again, the battle with gravel and dust resumed. We began to encounter the first trucks on the route. Overtaking them was a true gamble. Each one left behind a massive wall of dust, completely blinding us. We overtook them blindly, hoping that luck was on our side and there would be no obstacles on the other side of the dust cloud.

Crossing the Torugart Pass – Bureaucracy and a Silent Barrier

The entire area between the final Kyrgyz checkpoint and the Chinese border is tightly controlled. To move within it, special permits are required. If your goal is merely to reach the border without stopping or veering off course, a single transit permit is sufficient.

Crossing the border through the Torugart Pass, however, requires some serious logistical acrobatics. You need confirmation from a Chinese agent who must meet you at the Chinese checkpoint — located about 100 km past the border — and officially take over responsibility for the travelers. You are not allowed to cross this border independently. A local guide’s presence is mandatory.

Very few tourists choose to cross at this location. We didn’t meet a single one. The crossing is primarily used by Kyrgyz and Chinese freight trucks — and indeed, there were plenty of them.

Paperwork, Coins, and a First Glimpse of China

The main Kyrgyz border crossing also went surprisingly smoothly. One of the customs officers did hint that a “gift” would be appreciated. In the end, a few Polish coins did the trick — a souvenir and, hopefully, a bit of good luck.

We left Kyrgyzstan with stamped passports. Whether we’d be allowed into China, however, remained uncertain. We didn’t have a visa to re-enter Kyrgyzstan if things went wrong…

At the top of the pass lies the symbolic “Friendship Gate,” marking the border between the two nations. We arrived just in time for an official meeting between Chinese and Kyrgyz border officials. Speeches were delivered, a table full of food was set up right in the middle of the road — the ceremony had a highly formal feel.

We had to wait a bit, along with a convoy of freight trucks. Once the official part was over, the Chinese guards registered us for the first time. This was our very first encounter with them. Unfortunately, communication was almost impossible — neither English nor Russian worked.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – Waiting in the Borderlands

Roughly 30 kilometers past the border, we were scheduled to meet our Chinese guide — the official agent — at the customs checkpoint. Since we arrived ahead of schedule, we found ourselves waiting once again. In the meantime, the Chinese border guards decided to inspect our luggage.

It was the first time during the entire journey that anyone had actually taken interest in our belongings. Until now, no one had even bothered. Fortunately, the inspection was conducted in a friendly, relaxed atmosphere. A few officers even spoke some Russian, so we managed to communicate — more or less.

What caught their attention the most were our maps and books. They examined each item meticulously, page by page. The rest of the luggage didn’t seem to interest them much. Unfortunately, due to the telecom blackout imposed in Xinjiang following the riots in Urumqi, we had no way to contact our guide.

All we could do was hope that he’d show up as agreed. Time kept ticking, and the appointed hour came and went. We were growing increasingly nervous — without the guide and the documents he was supposed to bring, we couldn’t go any farther.

Noticing our situation, the Chinese officials invited us into their combined office-living quarters. They offered us tea and put on an American movie. Time started to drag… and we kept waiting.

Breakdowns, Mud and a Landslide

At last, our guide appeared. We breathed a collective sigh of relief. He quickly handled all the paperwork, and we were finally cleared to continue. About 100 kilometers remained to reach the official border facility.

The road was in terrible condition, but we pushed forward with a renewed sense of hope. Unfortunately, we didn’t get far — Jurek got a flat tire. Bad luck seemed to be chasing us from the moment we entered China.

But fortune smiled on us, if only briefly. There happened to be a tire repair shop nearby. The tube was patched up efficiently, and before long, we were back on the road.

On gravel roads, we’re usually faster than cars. We agreed to meet our guide at the border — still 100 kilometers ahead. Once again, we had to overtake the heavy trucks almost blindly. Thankfully, the road had started to get wetter, so the dust had settled a bit.

But with the moisture came another challenge — mud. The dust turned into a clay-like, slippery mess. The river in the valley began to overflow onto the road, and to make things worse, it started raining intermittently. Riding became more difficult, but still manageable.

Then, after one of the hundreds of bends, we saw a long line of trucks. For a moment, we thought we had reached the border. Sadly, 20 kilometers before it, the earth had collapsed. A massive mud-and-rock landslide had tumbled down from the mountains, covering the asphalt.

The road was buried for about 50 meters. There was absolutely no way through.

Detour Through Mud and a Chinese No-Man’s-Land Without a Stamp

Right after the landslide, a crowd of locals from a nearby village gathered. Everyone stood and stared, but no one took any action. A few small trucks tried to push through the rubble, only to get stuck in the thick mud. That’s when some of the villagers gestured toward a makeshift path through their village.

With a quick wave of the hand, they signaled that we could make it through. We had nothing to lose — we had to try. The path led us through muddy courtyards and small streams between clay-brick huts.

It was intense, and at times borderline extreme, but we made it. We emerged onto the road just past the landslide. But before we could catch our breath, a soldier flagged us down.

He asked where our guide was. Using gestures, we explained that he was still on the other side of the landslide and likely hadn’t arrived yet. It was a funny situation — we’d already ridden nearly 100 km through China, but technically… we didn’t exist. We had no entry stamps in our passports.

We were in “nowhere.”

The soldier let us continue — to the next checkpoint. It still wasn’t the official border. Once again, we had to wait for our guide.

At the post, we were registered — a routine we were already getting used to. The young soldiers were friendly, taking photos with our motorcycles. The atmosphere was relaxed and even cheerful.

After about thirty minutes, our guide finally showed up. Things moved quickly after that — the next clearance was organized without delay. Finally! Only 10 kilometers remained to the actual border.

This time, we followed behind our guide’s car, by the book.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – The Border, Bureaucracy, and Our First Hours in Kashgar

We feared the border crossing would close before we got there. It was already 7 p.m. local time — which meant 9 p.m. Beijing time. In Xinjiang, two time zones operate simultaneously. Border procedures follow Beijing time, while daily life is based on local time.

Every public institution displays two clocks — one for Beijing, one for the local zone. Luckily, the border was still open. There were no signs of it closing for the night.

We reached the first gate — disinfection. Another wait, this time due to a lunch break. Our motorcycles were sprayed with some mystery liquid. Then we proceeded to the sanitation checkpoint, passport control, and finally — customs.

At the sanitation stop, our temperatures were taken and a few forms had to be filled out. We were deemed healthy and cleared to continue.

At passport control, the computer system crashed several times, but eventually, we received the long-awaited entry stamps.

Customs was the last step. Once again, our luggage was examined. The maps drew the most attention — the officials inspected them thoroughly. Fortunately, we didn’t have to unpack everything this time — only a portion of our gear was scanned.

Meanwhile, our guide was taking care of all the formalities for the motorcycles. We needed temporary license plates and permits to travel within the Xinjiang province. It seemed like the documents had to pass through the hands of every local authority imaginable.

An hour later, everything was ready.

Kashgar – The End of a Long Day

We did it! We finally rode our beloved motorcycles into China! There were about 60 kilometers of asphalt left before reaching Kashgar. Along the way, we passed several checkpoints. As we approached the city, trucks full of soldiers started to appear — a response to the ongoing Uyghur demonstrations.

Right outside Kashgar, the military was stopping and inspecting vehicles. Some drivers were even denied entry. We reached the city at dusk.

The streets were total chaos. The driving style felt like a wild blend of Iranian and Asian freestyle traffic. We were utterly exhausted. The day had been packed with tension, adventure, and uncertainty. We had no energy left to deal with traffic, but somehow, we made it to our little hotel.

Our bikes looked terrible — caked in mud, dust, and fatigue, just like us. We didn’t look much better. We grabbed only our essentials and rolled the bikes into the small rear parking lot behind the hotel.

After a quick shower, we headed to a nearby eatery. The food was basic — skewers made of anything imaginable — but it was delicious.

The worst part? We still had no way to contact the outside world. All foreign phone calls were blocked, SMS messages didn’t go through, and the internet was completely down throughout the province. Even the satellite phone was jammed.

We couldn’t let anyone know that we’d made it safely into China.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – Resting in Kashgar and a Trip to Muztagata

We spent a few days in Kashgar — exploring the city and waiting for the last batch of Chinese paperwork: temporary driver’s licenses, registration documents, and insurance. It was a time to rest, prepare the motorcycles for the next stretch, and soak in the local atmosphere.

One day, we took a trip along the legendary Karakorum Highway — toward the majestic Muztagata peak. Unfortunately, we couldn’t go by motorcycle. We lacked the necessary permits, and the route included several security checkpoints. So, we hopped in a jeep delivering supplies to a group of climbers.

On the Chinese side, the Karakorum Highway is a beautiful, newly paved road. A narrow ribbon of asphalt snakes through a valley squeezed between towering peaks. The scenery is absolutely breathtaking! You just need to watch out for the trucks speeding to and from Pakistan — the drivers often cut corners without hesitation.

Muztagata, a 7,000-meter giant, is a popular target for mountaineers and ski tourers. It’s considered one of the easier high-altitude climbs, though the elevation itself can be brutal. Maybe one day, we’ll come back and attempt a ski ascent…

At the base of Muztagata lies the picturesque Karakul Lake. On the way there, we also passed several emerald-colored alpine lakes — the views were absolutely stunning. That unplanned side trip ended up being one of the highlights of our time in China. We dream of coming back on motorcycles one day, to ride the Pakistani side of this incredible road.

Back in Kashgar, the most exotic place we visited was the Sunday livestock bazaar. The noise, the smells, the crowds — it all created a unique and chaotic charm. There were even a few other tourists wandering around. The regular bazaar was just as fascinating — you could buy almost anything there, even dried or pickled snakes.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – Riding Across the Taklamakan Desert

We left Kashgar on Sunday, July 26th — right after visiting the animal bazaar. The first stretch ahead of us was 270 kilometers to Yecheng. The road passed through small Uyghur villages and was flat and paved.

The highlight of the day was a 100-kilometer section that ran near the vast Taklamakan Desert. The heat became intense — though thankfully, not as brutal as what we’d experienced in Iran.

We had to stay alert constantly — dodging ever-present trucks, tuk-tuks, and donkey carts. Out here, the law of the strongest rules the road: trucks follow no traffic laws, and everyone else — tuk-tuks and donkeys included — must get out of their way.

In every village we passed, local trade was in full swing. The more the goods spilled out onto the road, the better — at least by local logic. This meant the road often narrowed to a single lane through town, with all vehicles from both directions forced to squeeze through.

In Yecheng, we met up with our Tibetan guide — Tenzing. In China, and especially in Tibet, independent travel using your own vehicle is not allowed. You need an escort — a licensed guide who presents the required documents at every checkpoint.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – Freedom (With a Guide) and the First Ascent on the Xinjiang-Tibet Highway

Without our guide — and a stack of official documents — we couldn’t go any farther. We agreed with Tenzing that he would follow far behind us in a jeep. We had fixed meeting points for military checkpoints, overnight stays, and lunches.

This arrangement worked perfectly for us. We enjoyed full riding freedom without the burden of heavy luggage. Most of our gear traveled in the support vehicle.

For the first time, we were riding “light.” Without luggage, our Africa Twins felt like nimble dirt bikes — agile and ready for anything. Crossing rivers became much easier without all the extra weight.

Yecheng marks the beginning of the legendary Xinjiang-Tibet Highway — another “highway” in name only. This rugged track stretches over 1,100 km to Ali (also known as Ger), mostly above 4,500 meters. Some of the mountain passes even reach 5,400 m. Only about 200 kilometers of the entire route are paved — at the beginning and the end. Most travelers cover it in four days, though it can be done in three.

The First Pass and a Chance Encounter With a Chinese Motorcyclist

On July 27, we left Yecheng. The first 90 kilometers led through desert terrain, on a sandy but paved road. Then we reached the first military checkpoint. From there, the pavement ended and the real ride began — a rocky climb to a 3,400-meter pass.

Yecheng sits at just 1,300 meters, so the elevation gain was significant. On the way up, we got stuck behind a convoy of military trucks — the true plague of these roads. These drivers act with complete impunity. You have to be extremely careful not to get pushed off the edge.

All of this played out on steep switchbacks, with visibility close to zero due to thick dust. Our adrenaline surged instantly.

At the top of the pass, the scenery changed dramatically. We were still in Xinjiang, but true mountains now surrounded us. We met a few Chinese cyclists and one lone motorcyclist riding a small 125cc.

We were overjoyed to see him — and he was equally happy to meet us. Even though we didn’t share a language, we managed to communicate with gestures and smiles. He seemed eager to make friends. Foreigners are a rare sight in this part of China.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – High Passes, River Crossings, and a Harsh Night in Sanshli

We arrived at our planned overnight stop earlier than expected. Feeling bold, we decided to push on — another 100 kilometers to the next town.

That decision came with a price. Those extra 100 kilometers were brutally difficult.

The road ran mostly along a river, on a rugged off-road track filled with loose rocks, ruts, and washouts. One major pass stood in our way — nearly 4,990 meters high. The river section was the worst: broken, battered, and bone-rattling.

That stretch really took it out of us. The climb to the pass was slightly easier, and the reward was immense — from the top, we had a clear view of K2 and the Gasherbrum massif. It was the ultimate “wow” moment of the day.

We still had two more rivers to cross. Thankfully, with no luggage, we managed both without getting wet. By evening, completely exhausted, we rolled into Sanshli — a bleak roadside town best avoided if possible.

In stark contrast to the stunning nature, human settlements in this region often feel depressing — clusters of crumbling huts, tangled wires, and piles of rubble. Sanshli was no exception.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – Fatigue, Hotel Repairs, and a Fussy Africa Twin

As depressing as places like Sanshli can be, after more than 300 kilometers of rough riding, all we dreamed of was lying down. Pitching a tent in that kind of physical state was simply beyond us. Even bleak Sanshli had its charm — it offered hot food and a bed.

And that’s exactly what we did. A quick dinner, a shower, and straight to bed — the classic routine.

Well… almost. There was one exception to the plan — we had to deal with my Africa Twin. Somewhere along the rough terrain, it started to choke — as if it wasn’t getting enough fuel. A few times, the engine even cut out mid-ride. It made handling difficult and, in some situations, downright dangerous.

Despite being completely wiped out, Jurek got to work. He spread out the tools and started diagnosing the issue. He worked late into the night, even though the day had taken a serious toll. After 20,000 km of riding, some mechanical hiccups are to be expected — but this wasn’t the time or place you’d choose for repairs.

Motorcycle Journey Through China – Altitude Struggles and Dusty Desert Trails

Jurek was up before dawn, back at the bike, fiddling with something that clearly bugged him. By 8 a.m., we were eating breakfast — a traditional Chinese one, unfortunately.

We couldn’t really warm up to Chinese breakfasts. What showed up on the table was “steamed bread” — a flavorless white bun — and sticky rice soup without seasoning. Sometimes there were peanuts or spicy vegetables tossed in, but it wasn’t exactly a culinary highlight of the trip.

After breakfast, we hit the road again. Ahead of us: 330 kilometers of off-road riding and multiple passes above 5,000 meters. We started the day with a shallow river crossing, which went smoothly.

The road led us through a wide valley. The gravel was decent, not too many potholes. But then… my Africa Twin started choking again. It became clear that another inspection was inevitable.

Midway through the day, we witnessed a stunning halo phenomenon around the sun — it looked like a glowing, circular UFO in the sky. A moment of wonder in the middle of desolation.

The landscapes that day were beautiful, though not quite as jaw-dropping as the day before. The ascent to the 5,250-meter pass led us through barren, sandy terrain. That’s where we truly felt the sand — in the air and under the wheels.

The Wastelands of Aksai Chin, a 5,200m Overnight, and a Battle With Altitude Sickness

Past the pass, we entered the Aksai Chin region — one of the most desolate areas in China. The road turned into a relentless “washboard” — endless corrugations that caused brutal vibrations. My Africa Twin couldn’t handle it anymore. Every attempt to speed up made it stutter. I couldn’t go faster than 30 km/h.

So we decided to leave the road and ride straight through the desert. That’s where the real off-road adventure began. We were still riding above 5,000 meters, but surprisingly, our stamina held up. Just a bit of shortness of breath.

Toward the end of the day, rain came — completely unexpected in this region, where it might rain once a year. We got slightly soaked, and taking photos was pointless — we were tired, and the skies were grey.

We passed several emerald lakes, but we didn’t have the strength to stop anymore. We arrived in Tielong at dusk, not realizing the town sits at an altitude of 5,200 meters.

Spending the night at that height, just two days after starting from Yecheng (1,300 meters), was a recipe for trouble. Jurek came down with a fever. Most likely a combination of exhaustion and altitude sickness.

We spent half the night battling fever and insomnia. It was rough. But just before dawn, we finally managed to fall asleep. We woke up feeling pretty rough. Jurek especially was weak, but we decided to push on.

There wasn’t much hope for recovery at 5,200 meters above sea level…

Motorcycle Journey Through China – Entering Tibet and a Well-Deserved Rest in Ali

That day, we were expecting to cross a mountain pass at 6,200 meters above sea level — a daunting prospect, especially considering Jurek’s condition.

Fortunately, our guide had been mistaken. The highest pass turned out to be a more manageable — though still formidable — 5,400 meters. Once again, the weather was on our side: blue skies and stunning views.

This stretch turned out to be the most beautiful part of the entire journey so far. Mountains, emerald lakes, desert expanses, and a lunar-like landscape — all in one place. It was the very essence of Tibet.

That day also marked our official entry into Tibet. In Domar, the first sizeable Tibetan town, we were stopped at a military checkpoint. Our details were taken and… that was it. No extra red tape, no interrogations. After all the fearmongering about Chinese bureaucracy, it was surprisingly smooth.

The final 120 kilometers to Ali were freshly paved — a godsend after three grueling days of off-road hell. 1,100 kilometers of dirt tracks in three days — that says it all.

We were completely exhausted… but also deeply satisfied.

Ali welcomed us with the promise of rest, hot showers, and a touch of civilization. Jurek finally had the time — and the proper conditions — to give the bikes a serious check-up, especially my moody Africa Twin.

At 4,400 meters above sea level, Ali felt almost low compared to Tielong.

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Join us on this incredible journey. Once or twice a month, you can expect another installment of our adventure. This way, you will feel the magic of those days, discover the beauty of the places we visited, and relive all the extraordinary moments with us. Each entry is not only a story of adventures but also of the challenges we encountered along the way, the people we met, and the cultures we had the chance to explore.

The world changes, but the memories of our travels remain eternal. What we experienced shaped us and enriched our lives with incredible experiences that we want to share with you. Each episode of our journey will give you the opportunity to travel through time and space, to places full of adventures, surprises, and beautiful landscapes.

We invite you to actively participate in this journey. We look forward to your comments and reflections, and maybe even your own travel stories! Your story can be an inspiration for us and other readers. Share your experiences, insights, and questions with us. Together, we will create a community of motorcycle travel enthusiasts, ready to share knowledge and memories. 🙂

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