Jishan is actually more than 30km from Xinjiang, but someone had told me that the railroad was a more direct way to get there.
So I walked the iron road:
You know what sucks about this: the distance between the horizontal boards is just too small, so you have to make tiny little steps if you want to walk on them:
Not very manly, and not very effective for speed either.
About every 30 minutes, I would have to step aside and wait for a while:
Apart from that, there was really not much happening on the tracks:
Just whiteness everywhere, with hardly any people around:
Sometimes I would cross tiny villages, but I would be high above them, walking on the tracks:
Also, one thing I hadn’t thought of before: food. There was absolutely no way to find anything to feed on during the entire day. I had two muffins and a can of walnut milk from the depths of my backpack here:
The rest of the way meant sinister starving.
Once I ran into a dude who was also walking on the tracks, trying to get to his friend’s wedding:
He cheered me up a bit and told me that I had almost made it.
Then I found this:
“I bislike you”
And not just one – six or seven of these, all beautifully written in the snow:
Someone must have really bisliked someone else here.
Anyways, at some point I got fed up with all the cozy warmth rushing by every 30 minutes:
I would comfort myself: “Those captives sitting on their flat asses should envy me – I am roaming about freely, I am experiencing the outdoors, they don’t know what it’s like!”
But I guess they didn’t even notice me.
Well, at some point, after what seemed like a million tiny steps later, I had made it to Jishan train station:
It was only then, when I stepped on the boarding platform and walked through the train station, and I could feel the eyes of all the other people who were there waiting in the waiting hall, that I actually felt that some part of the lie I had been telling myself for comfort was maybe becoming real.
At least for me.