The complex of Gao Miao in Zhongwei is a jumble of temples devoted to Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism and even Christianity. In one side room there are hundreds of garishly painted statues, some with pleasant fat faces, others with grotesque bulging eyes and one with 12ft long legs. Other attractions on offer were a hall of mirrors and a bizarre underground labyrinth featuring scenes of hell that lit up with neon lights when a sensor detected you coming. Religion no longer seems to be a big part of life in China but the neglected temples tucked between the modern developments are evidence of the traditional beliefs that underpinned the civilization for the 3000 years. These beliefs were a combination of three basic philosophies; Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism. Nowadays the few temples that have been restored have a hefty entrance fee, a gift shop and noisy throngs of tourists. Occasionally you see an old woman lighting incense and offering a prayer in front of a statue of a deity, but for the most part religion has been wiped out by the communist party. Even today party members must declare themselves atheist and The Times recently reported that officials in Tibet are now required to write criticisms of the Dalai Lama. Senior civil servants must produce 10,000-word essays while those in junior posts need only write 5,000-character condemnations!

From Zhongwei we braved the heat and humidity through unremarkable scenery so even after a couple of days the lake side resort of Sha Hu was a pleasant respite. The shore of the lake has been turned into a theme park for the rich domestic tourists who drive there from the cities in their expensive SUVs. One of the joys of travelling in China is that that there is always guaranteed to be a fairly clean, modern and inexpensive hotel. They are massively overstaffed, with an attendant on each floor and a troop of girls to carry all the bags on arrival. The rooms typically have a private bathroom, TV and air conditioning and usually cost no more than 3 pounds each. After cooling off in the ice cold room we made our way to the "water paradise on earth", the highlight of the which was a spot of paragliding which treated us to a (very) brief view of the surrounding countryside.

Because of the formidable language barrier it is difficult to have much in the way of conversation with the Chinese and most of the time they are content to stand and stare at us. However, in the last few days we have met a few friendly and interesting English speakers that have given us something to smile about. First was Bai Jing (the person, not the city) who is cycling to Urumqi in Xinjiang. He was keen to make friends and cycled with us for 10km in the wrong direction so that we could have lunch together. As is Chinese custom he not only paid for our meal but also gave us some Beijing 2008 mascots. Even more importantly he wrote down the names of the dishes so since then we have been enjoying shredded pork, hot and sour aubergine and egg and tomato non stop. In return we could only offer him a Union Jack and a postcard of Horse Guards' Parade; I hope he is a royalist!

Half an hour later we bumped into Giorgio, who couldn't really get more Italian. After overtaking us on his Vespa he screeched to a halt and took off his helmet to reveal tanned skin, long shiny hair and a selection of earrings. He has travelled over 250,000km around the world on his scooter and is currently touring around China. Riding pillion with him was a Chinese woman, "I have been with her 3 days but I do not know her name!" The final encounter, with an English teacher in a small town in Inner Mongolia, was equally memorable. On news of our arrival he had been dragged from a lunchtime session to come and speak to us, and he told us we were the first foreigners he had ever met. Having never spoken to a native English speaker before, he was understandably concerned that we would not understand him and he was elated when we said we could. We like a bit of hero worship now and again so we were delighted when he said, "In my heart, I feel that you are true Heroes" but I think the wine was beginning to take its toll when he went on with, "this is the greatest day of my life"!

At first the only observable difference between Ningxia and Inner Mongolia was the presence of Mongolian script on the road signs which resembles a vertical Arabic and is even more indecipherable than Mandarin. But gradually the industry petered out and we were on a lonely road that stretched out over rolling grass steppes. The greenery gives a false impression and on closer inspection the soil is sandy and infertile which explains the sparse population and lack of agriculture. In amongst all this barrenness is Ordos, a town famous for its cashmere wool and coal. On the approach we passed a vast construction site with at least a hundred tower blocks being built, a development that will at least double the size of the town. The pace of change in China means that this kind of site is common and it is sad to see entire neighborhoods of traditional housing being swept away to make room for the latest shopping mall. Even more worrying is that the new buildings are obviously not built to last and begin to look dated after a couple of years; I think Chinese cities in 20 years time will be depressing places.

From Ordos we were joined by a fleet of lorries laden with coal and things became somewhat miserable as we strived to not be killed by some of the craziest displays of driving imaginable. The lorries are evidently over-weight and underpowered and the situation is made worse by the ubiquitous blue tut-tuts that rattle along paying little attention to other road users. I do not know what possesses the drivers to overtake one another on blind corners and summits and even the upturned wrecks on the side of the road do not put them off. Twice we were forced to take evasive action onto the verge, not forgetting to shout a hail of obscenities at the bemused looking drivers. Fortunately Route 109 mysteriously disappeared and seeing that the lorries were all heading north we opted for the southerly detour into the heart of Shanxi province. This provided a respite from the hellish convoy but also meant an energy sapping couple of days of up and down over steep terraced hills.

For the third and final time we crossed the Yellow River, which by now has grown into a mighty torrent that has carved out an impressive canyon. The Chinese have a penchant for putting industry in the most scenic spots, as was the case with the huge dam at the bottom of the canyon and the factories that are found in even the smallest villages along the route. Worse was to come; a tunnel led us into a valley which was lined with coal mines. Economic development in China means that it has become a power hungry nation and three quarters of its energy needs are provided by coal. This particular region produces a third of China's coal and a hefty proportion of this is being spread all over the roads and unsuspecting cycle tourists. By the time we reached Datong we were black with dust and grime and we received some odd looks from the receptionist at the "Green Garden Ecology Delicious Place Hotel."

If Lanzhou is the armpit of China then Datong is the crotch after six days in the saddle. The city nestles under a blanket of smog produced by two power stations on its outskirts that supply the whole of Shanxi province and Beijing, and even at midday the sun is sunset-orange from all the pollution. We are going to be staying in this delightful place for four days, extending our visas, checking out the local sights and waiting for the fanclub to gather in Beijing!