We drove onward until around four in the morning, when we halted a second time. Major reorganisation of the cargo we'd been trying to get comfortable with took place, with boxes and sacks being flung off into the surrounding darkness. The drivers plan was to bury us deep in the midst of their merchandise to avoid any problems at the feared checkpost ahead.

Both climatically and geologically distinct, & 4000m higher than Yecheng, the valleys of southern Xinjiang were a welcome change after the barren desert

Being totally buried brought beneficial thermal effects, and meant we got even more intimately acquainted, but also meant we were totally trapped, totally unable to see or hear what was happening outside, totally unable to flee, or even to follow the time. The trucks started up again, and jolted along the track. They continued to roll for an interminable time (later 'termed' as around 2 hours). Then, the trucks manoeuvred and finally stopped. Silence fell once again, disturbed only by muffled breathing amidst the cargo, and footsteps on shingle outside. The tension mounted as more people started to move around the truck, and started shouting through the night's calm. Then the suspension dipped as someone climbed aboard. The ropes holding our canvas roof down were being undone, vibrations from their thread feeding into our nest of onions, inner-tubes and rucksacks. Someone was rummaging through the cargo just above us, piercing our cover as we lay still, silence being our only defence. Was this the checkpost? Was there an eager PSB officer inches above us, making sure there was nothing untoward about this nocturnal cargo? How had he known? Had our drivers turned us in? Had word of the afternoons episode preceded us? Or was it our drivers trying to dig us out?

Over breakfast outside Mazar we got to grips with the changing landscape, thinning air and sense of isolation in this enormous closed region.

The familiar hearty laugh and broad grin assured us all was OK as the man we were coming to recognise as the family patriarch reached us. We'd passed straight through Mazar without being noticed, and had stopped in a deserted and frozen valley, eagerly awaiting the rising sun.
The sun soon obliged, rising fast into the sky, chasing shadows down one valley side and up the other. Tibetan style breakfast was Tsampa and butter tea, but anything warm was welcome! Our drivers had a box of instant noodles for their passengers, which we added to the tea, creating a novel culinary fusion, but was not a union that impressed the Tibetans!

Breakfast was both a relieved & relaxed affair. The populated areas of the desert fringes was now behind us, and the drivers were visibly more at home in the mountains than on the plains. Ahead lay a long and dramatic ride across the most remote and deserted mountain range in the world.