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I was up and gone early in the morning. I walked to the hostel, with the help of my GPS because it was quite far away, and I was walking around in the dark the previous night. I waited in the room for Lulu to get up and get ready. The hostel owner threw a fit after she finds me in the room and demands that I leave. I grabbed my things and told Lulu I would wait outside.

I waited on the stairs as two police officers walked in and climbed the stairs, presumably there to check the records. I hadn’t been taking their paranoia seriously, but it seems as though the police check the records every day. Or maybe they just check the records of the establishments that arouse suspicion.

We were to meet the convoy guys at a restaurant at Bishan at lunchtime, which wasn’t too far away, so it was a relaxed morning drive. For once, I didn’t mind the slow pace.

The guys had their bikes, about 15 of them, parked up on the footpath beside the restaurant, and gave us a hearty welcome and I was presented with more cigarettes than I could smoke in a week. After lunch we all started over the last couple of ranges to Chongqing, also known as the mountain city (山城). There were dirt-bikes, cruisers, street bikes and even a scooter.

Traveling with the convoy meant I was released from my self-imposed obligation to stick to Lulu like glue in case she has an accident. I drove ahead with the faster bikes, opening up on the mountain roads like I hadn’t done since Huangshan in Anhui.

We all met at the Lifan factory first, where we picked up even more riders.

It was very hot and humid and, there was a bit of rain as the convoy drew nearer to Nanbin Lu, the place where we started our journey 102 days earlier.

We had an interview with a couple of motorcycle magazines after the photos. Half pumped with adrenalin, and half dead from exhaustion, I had a couple of problems answering the questions.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Finished. It was like coming home from a rock concert, ears ringing. Although I was thankful to be able to get home and have a shower and a few days of sleep I felt an emptiness where the intense drive to keep driving had been. I would have to wait for the sense of achievement to replace it.

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We continued driving through the lush countryside of the Sichuan basin. It was another dreary, overcast day, with the odd light rain shower.

Lulu passed her 17,000th kilometre in the morning.

We stopped for a guy who had a flat front tyre. He could repair it, but he didn’t have a pump. I handed him the pump that I had obtained with luck near Manigango. Every time I stopped to help someone, it felt great to pass on the goodwill and help that people had generously given to me through the journey.

But he pumped it up too much and it blew out.

He didn’t have another spare, so I took him a couple of kilometres down the road to the nearest village to find one.

We crossed the Sichuan/Chongqing border in the afternoon.

Less than 100 kms to go until we reach Chongqing, we stop for the night in Tongliang. Lifan has arranged a convoy for the next day, a Saturday, so we have to wait outside the city.

The first guest-house took us in. They said “Yeah it’s fine, you can stay here”. We dumped all of our stuff in the rooms and went off to have a nice relaxing dinner and a beer. We had less than a day’s ride to get home. I was mindful that anything could happen and the bottom could fall out the bottom of the crankshaft in the last 10 kilometres or, more likely, one of us could get into an accident with another vehicle on the crowded roads. All that aside, we were already congratulating each other for making it around China.

Returning to the hotel content and with full stomachs, the owner told us that they called the police station to check if I was allowed to stay there and apparently I couldn’t. “You must leave”. “Ahhh! Why did you call the police station???”.

We walk across to the next hotel, “Yeah it’s fine, you can stay here”. We drag all of our stuff across the road and up six flights of stairs. 20 minutes later the owner tells us that they called the police station to check if I was allowed to stay there and apparently I couldn’t. “You must leave”. “Why didn’t you put the room under Lulu’s name? It’s not like the police are going to waltz in and break down each door to check if there were any ‘undesirables’ staying”. The level of paranoia astonished me. Lulu was sick of dragging her things around. I could leave my things there, but I would have to find my own place to stay.

This time I took my time leaving. They said I could stay there, watched us drag half a house up the stairs and then tell me I have to move again, so they can wait and stew in the anxiety they brought on themselves. At almost midnight, on the second-to-last day of the journey my irritation at this bureaucratic and highly inconvenient law that had been building over the last three and a half months almost had me popping an aneurysm. Especially now, on the last night when I just wanted to relax as the trip wound down.

I had a beer spare and opened it, trying to chill out before looking for a new place to stay. When foreigners are not welcome my the majority of lodging establishments, turning up to the reception desk with smile on your face can do wonders to your chance of being accepted. What also helps is trying to find a place that isn’t near a bus station, as they are sure to be checked by the local police (as the most likely places that a foreigner would be staying), and these placed would be especially paranoid about getting fined (apparently the fine is ￥5000 for taking a foreigner without a license to do so).

I walked down the street I thought I had the best chance with. Stopped in at about 6 or 7 hotels, and they told me that “We have no room”, or “we can’t take foregners”. Even the more expensive places which had the license, couldn’t take me because they were full. I had been screwed around with for too long at the first two hotels so I had run out of options, even with the places I wouldn’t normally have taken. On top of this, I was flat broke, with no more than 50 kuai of Chinese money in my wallet.

I wandered around, found a couch and some people to talk to. I figured there was no point in getting stressed out about it. I would get more tired if I walked around assuming that I was entitled to a good night’s sleep. Que sera, sera.

I followed hotel signs down a narrow street, which looked promising. “The harder the hotel to access, the better chance I have of finding a place to stay” I thought. I went to the reception, obviously looking like death, and asked the guy if he had space. He looked nervous. A room was 100 kuai. I asked if he would take 20 American dollars instead (about 130 kuai) and I told him that I would be out of the room at 6 in the morning. He reluctantly said it was okay, “but you must leave early”.

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We said thanks and goodbye to our hosts. We had ben told that we needed to be in Chongqing in three days. Had a quick breakfast of baozi (steamed buns filled with meat or vegetables) and soy milk for breakfast and we were off.

The weather was overcast and a bit wet. Outside Ya’an, we drove onto the G108, while all the four wheeled vehicles hopped on the expressway. Even though the expressway is much faster, I would rather take the country roads anyway. It’s more of an experience.

Lulu had arranged an interview in Chengdu with a local newspaper. If I had thought driving through Ya’an was hectic, Chengdu was armageddon. I still wasn’t used to masses of vehicles jostling for space over four lanes of road. We spent a long time, and several confused phone calls, before we found them.

I didn’t want to stay in the city because we could be caught out for not having Chengdu plates (which can cost up to ￥10,000). Lulu had a friend that she wanted to stay with, but agreed it was just too complicated. We would drive until night fell, then find a place to sleep.

We drove into Jianyang, the bright neon lights covering the apartment buildings irritating my retinas. It was a nice city (what we saw of it anyway) of almost 1.5 million people on the banks of the Tuojiang river.

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