Hooray as hoped, I am back on the Silk Road in the oasis city of Turpan, a good year after finishing stage one. My anticipation is enormous. On entering China, 10 fingerprints are validated and after I have probably not come to any negative attention in 2018 and once again have a valid visa, I am allowed to re-enter the People&#8217;s Republic of China.
Here in Turpan, I am in the Taklamakan Desert, the second largest sand desert in the world. For now, I want to acclimatise a bit and enjoy my favourite dish niurou lamian 牛肉拉面 (noodle soup).  Afterwards I visit the surrounding Astana tombs. As temperature, here in the Turpan Basin is again around 45 degrees during the day, I will reel off my touring miles at night until a certain altitude above sea level is reached. If the temperatures drop below 30 degrees, I will switch to the daytime rhythm.
The first night everything goes like clockwork. It&#8217;s 58 kilometres to Toksun, just alright for a warm up.  After breakfast around 8 am for me it&#8217;s bedtime.  The second night&#8217;s drive is already imminent, and from now on I am riding on the asphalted national road G 314 for more than 1400 kilometres, mainly in a south-west direction towards Kashgar. Although the sun has long since disappeared, the thermometer still shows 31 degrees at 11 pm and so I start into the crystal clear starry night.  A little later, there is already a challenging obstacle to overcome. A police checkpoint. There are many of them here in the Xinjiang district. It is the territory of the Uyghurs and this ethnic group is strictly controlled by the Chinese regime. In an individual traveler like me, standing at the checkpoint at such an inopportune time, the officials probably see a spy, a journalist or otherwise an undesirable person. As at every checkpoint, the passport has to be handed over first. After the usual 20 minutes of leafing through the passport, they ask by translating app where are you from (as if 20 minutes were not enough to find out that I am Swiss)?  Then come more questions: Where did you spend the night? Where are you going to? How long have you been in China (can you tell from the entry stamp in your passport)? What do you do for a living? Then they just make me wait for ages without doing anything. Just waiting and waiting. Now more than 40 minutes have passed and they say I can&#8217;t go any further. Until then I have remained calm and always cooperated with the police officers. Nervousness, impatience, complaining doesn&#8217;t help. Remain polite. Show them on the map where Switzerland is. Answer everything nicely and hope to get through. The gentlemen do their job&#8230;.and so far, I have only experienced nice policemen. They offer water, sometimes even provisions. Now they show me the guard house. There&#8217;s a bed there, I&#8217;m supposed to make myself comfortable here and rest until 8 a.m. tomorrow, when I&#8217;ll be allowed to leave the checkpoint. Hello, Mr. Policeman, please let me pass now. Once again I press the translation app on my mobile phone and hope for an OK from the policeman. No, no, says the officer, not until tomorrow at 8 am. He can&#8217;t justify letting me drive on the road in the dark. Ok I say to him I understand that at first glance you think so. I try to convince the policeman that I absolutely have to ride at night because it gets extremely hot during the day and you shouldn&#8217;t ride a bike at 45 degrees. You risk heat stroke. I show him my weather app &#8230;. Then I present my night gear to the policeman. Super light on the bike, headlamp etc.. Then I explain to the uniformed officer that there is much, much less traffic in the dark. And if anyone is going to take responsibility for my cycling trip, it&#8217;s me!
Now he makes a phone call, no idea with whom? Then he hands over the passport and wishes me a good journey and I wish him a good night! Hoping that I really understood him correctly, I immediately jump on my gold donkey (yes, my touring bike is in GOLD color) and, still a little incredulous about his answer, get off as quickly as possible. The night will be tough, there are many metres of altitude to climb. The temperature is still pleasant. However, there hasn&#8217;t been a serviced rest stop for over 5 hours now and my water supply has long since been used up. It&#8217;s always a question of weighing up how much you want to carry. Every gram counts. And if you need 4 to 5 litres for the whole day&#8217;s (night&#8217;s) journey, you usually have the opportunity to &#8222;fill up&#8220; somewhere, so I usually take a maximum of 2 litres with me at the start and top up when the opportunity arises. This time I would have liked more liquid
to have with me. Unfortunately, there is no shop at the next car park. I am so thirsty that I show a truck driver my water bottle and tell him I need a drink. The first one already has mercy and hands over a 0.5 l water bottle. I am very pleased about this and also happy that they can still be found: The rescuers in times of need!
I ride on until around 10am and because there are only a few hotels in this desert, I rest on a mat in the shade under a motorway bridge. After sun set I pedal off again into the night. Arriving in Korla, I am pleased with the professional reception at the hotel (see video).  I also have to visit a dentist, who fortunately repairs my tooth. Next day as I drive on towards Kuga, I make an interesting discovery. A vehicle without license plates. I notice this as I drive past. About 30 km later I stop. Then I get back on my bike &#8230;and what do I see in the next car park? The same car without number plates. Honestly now I feel a bit strange. I stop and look inside the car. Someone is sleeping there&#8230;. Well, he probably needed a break too, I think. Nevertheless, it doesn&#8217;t leave me quite so cold and after a few miles  of pedaling the car suddenly reappears about 300 metres behind me, driving at a slow pace. &#8230; Hello, what&#8217;s going on there. I look back again and again and again the car is there&#8230; Finally, I can leave the motorway but the car also leaves it. In the city traffic, the chaser loses sight of me. On arrival at the hotel I breathe a sigh of relief and report the incident. But it doesn&#8217;t seem to be of interest and is ignored. A car without a licence plate? They don&#8217;t know anything.
Late in the afternoon, while sightseeing in the old town, I ask in some small shops for a Schumacher. My shoe is broken. Suddenly a gentleman on the pavement approaches me and asks: &#8222;Are you looking for a Schumacher? I was a bit perplexed and nodded. He says, &#8222;OK, best you get in the car, my chauffeur and I will take you there. And for sure enough, they drive to the Schumacher just outside the old town. I thank him and say goodbye. Then the Schumacher mends the shoe. Afterwards, however, the helpful men are still on the spot and ask: What will you do next? I&#8217;m going back to the hotel now. OK, we&#8217;ll take you there. No thanks, there&#8217;s a taxi &#8230;. and bye!!!! In the rear-view mirror, I observe their pursuit and that there are no licence plates on the grey limousine. So instead of being taken to the hotel, I get out in the middle of town, pay the driver his fare and make my way to the market. Good riddance! I didn&#8217;t quite understand what the men wanted from me.
But presumably they are carrying out a surveillance job. After the market visit, I go to the hotel seemingly unnoticed. Once there, I no longer ask about cars without licence plates.  One must assume that nobody dares to give a concrete answer.

Hooray as hoped, I am back on the Silk Road in the oasis city of Turpan, a good year after finishing stage one. My anticipation is enormous. On entering China, 

Turpan – Korla – Kuqa

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