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DAY 175 | Mongolia | How To Move The Stars | A bicycle ride around the world · How To Move The Stars | A bicycle ride twice around the world

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  August 7th, 2013 Lightning storm.
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  I continued up a long valley this morning, climbing through a
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  thin forest and over a pass at 7700 feet.
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  Near the high point I came upon a small rivulet and in a rare
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  moment I was inspired to rinse my shirt.
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  The last time I cleaned my clothes was a month ago in Nova
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  Shabirsk, and since then there have been a lot of sweaty days
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  and many nights sleeping on the ground.
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  I removed the shirt delicately to keep the holes from tearing
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  any larger. Squeezing the submerged fabric,
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  I watched the clouds of filth drift away.
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  After 10 minutes, dirt was still coming out, but my hands had
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  grown numb in the icy water. I put the shirt on wet to let
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  the fabric dry on my back. Late in the afternoon I stopped
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  in the town of a Gold Eye to buy food.
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  Tall red fences were built around humble wooden homes and a
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  rainbow of tin roofs added a nice touch of color.
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  Around town all the grocery stores are lined up on one St.
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  Each of them were the size of a garden shed and there is so
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  sparsely stocked that they only had shelves on 2 walls.
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  I had to visit 4 stores to get everything I wanted.
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  Rice in 1, dried apricots and peanuts in another, bread in the
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  3rd and jam in the fourth. Enough food for another 5 days.
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  As I did my shopping, people gathered around to see my bike
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  and squeeze the tires. I tried to answer their
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  questions and as we became friendlier, one of the men began
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  to tease me about my nose. My nose doesn't stand out in the
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  United States, but here in rural Asia I have the sharpest nose
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  around. I turned left and right to show
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  off to everyone and we were all laughing.
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  My nose has actually been a regular topic of conversation
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  since arriving in Mongolia. I left town into the next broad
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  valley and soon after I noticed the rain cloud chasing me.
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  I pedaled hard to get away, but the washboard Rd. surface simply
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  wouldn't let me get my speed up. The approaching rumble of
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  lightning made clear that I was losing the race.
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  Looking over my shoulder, I saw a wall of falling water rippling
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  in the wind. When the storm caught me, I had
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  to figure out what to do. I knew that lightning strikes
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  the tallest object, and looking around I just found myself in a
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  wide, flat expanse between mountains, completely empty
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  except for me. Even lying down, I would have
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  been taller than every boulder and blade of grass for a mile in
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  every direction. A vague memory popped into my
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  head of a lightning advisory from a trail I hiked years ago.
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  The sign had a sketch of a lightning bolt and the person
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  swatting down as low as they could, holding their shins while
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  balancing on their toes. My recollection was so fuzzy
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  that I question if I made-up the memory, but that was the best I
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  had. I laid my bike over and walked
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  some distance away to squat in the grass.
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  For 40 minutes I stayed in that position as lightning cracked
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  overhead in rapid succession. The rain came down so hard that
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  water splashing off the ground sprayed my face.
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  My thighs burned, but I didn't dare sit or stand.
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  I simply crouched there, frightened and exhausted.
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  The situation is bad enough to merit deference.
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  I brought my full awareness to the moment, to feel the rain
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  pounding on my shoulders, the roaring sound against my hood,
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  the water sweet taste, the color of the wet soil.
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  I wanted to be fully present for the moment.
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  I was smitten from this earth. Once the lightning passed, I
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  felt really quite happy to not have been killed.
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  I pedaled along joyfully for another hour until my rain gear
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  dried and I set up my bivvy for the night.
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  As another storm approached, the setting sun dropped below the
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  clouds and illuminated the falling rain in an eerie orange
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  glow. The storm I saw earlier is now
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  upon me. I'm zipped up in my bivvy, which
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  is struggling to be a fully waterproof shell.
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  The wind is driving so hard that I can feel the impact of
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  raindrops through my down sleeping bag.
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  Or maybe I'm feeling hail. I can't see anything to know for
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  sure. The night is pitch black and I'm
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  inside of a bag. Not ideal, but unless the wind
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  lifts me off the ground out here in the open, there's nothing
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  that could possibly harm me. I'm in the center of a raging
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  storm and feel completely at ease.