Scarf cut into strips to make a tow rope – Fellow travelers pulled her up a 28-km hill
More male university students have cycled across the Sichuan-Tibet Highway, but not many females. Yesterday, a reporter learned from Hubei University of Education that this summer, Zhou Jing, a sophomore majoring in literature at the university’s College of Liberal Arts, spent 29 days cycling over 2,000 km to reach Lhasa.
Zhou’s group had four people: besides her, there was Hu Afang, a junior from the same school, and two males from Jiangcheng College of Geosciences and Hubei University of Technology.
Zhou is passionate about cycling. In June, when she heard about the other three’s cycling plan, she also wanted to join. However, she was somewhat worried: without preparation, she might be a burden to the team. The fellow travelers said those weren’t problems. No gear? They helped her find a second-hand bike online for 900 yuan, and the three of them split the cost, each contributing over 200 yuan for Zhou.
At Mila Mountain, which stands 5,018 meters above sea level, there was a 28-km uphill stretch. Just a few kilometers in, Zhou began breathing heavily and could only push or half-pedal her bike. At first, Linlin told her stories to distract her and pedaled alongside her, but she still struggled to breathe. So, the fellow travelers tied Zhou’s bike to theirs and pulled her for three hours — they started at 6 a.m., began pulling at 7 a.m., and finally reached the mountaintop at 10 a.m. “Without these fellow travelers, I definitely couldn’t have made it,” Zhou said.
How did they pull her? “I sacrificed my scarf — it was cut into strips and then tied together as a rope.” This wasn’t the only time they had to tow her.
The first mountain they climbed, Zheduo Mountain, was so tough that Zhou and Hu Afang couldn’t cycle at all — they spent 14 hours pushing their bikes to the top. Niubei Mountain took them three days, climbing it in segments.
Zhou’s decision to go cycling was initially firmly opposed by her family. After making up her mind, Zhou wanted to talk to her father but didn’t dare to do it face-to-face, so she sent him a text message to feel him out. But her dad never replied — “that had never happened before.”
“It’s so dangerous — how can I feel at ease letting you, a girl, go alone?” Her parents flatly rejected the idea. But in Zhou’s view, the fellow travelers were reliable. “Afang handled daily life, Daqian planned the route, Zhang Lin took photos, and the Sichuan-Tibet route is well-established. What could go wrong?” Eventually, Zhou’s mother was persuaded, but her father has been ignoring her ever since.
Reflecting on the experience, Zhou said the warmth of the locals left a deep impression on her. When they arrived in Nyingchi’s Bayi District, the village head warmly invited them to stay. An elderly Tibetan woman even gave each of them a Tibetan name. “Mine is Tsering Yangzom, which means ‘lucky’,” Zhou recalled, still filled with joy.
Along the way, locals would greet them warmly, and at Tibetan homes, they’d chat and drink tea. “At Midui Glacier, the Tibetans even made tsampa for us to eat.”
Now, Zhou is working at a supermarket in Wuhan doing promotions. She plans to earn money with her own hands to begin a new cycling journey.