With the Tour of Guangxi, racing at its highest level returns to China after the demise of the Tour of Beijing in 2014. The latter was a partnership between the UCI and the Beijing City Government, and lasted only four editions. The Tour of Beijng was immediately given WorldTour status, which required all the top teams to attend, leapfrogging the new event over older, more established races. This, of course, caused great controversy within the cycling community. Some suggested that the UCI found itself in a conflict of interest, being the regulating party but also profiting from partnering with China.

Then, history repeats itself. When the Tour of Guangxi was announced in December 2016 and added to the 2017 WorldTour calendar, the initial reaction was one of great skepticism. There was a feeling that, like the Tour of Beijing before it, the Tour of Guangxi is something of a simulacrum, a vague semblance of our western perception of a bike race. Where other organizers spend years – if not decades – working towards WorldTour status, the Tour of Guangxi is up there in its inaugural edition. The UCI's pretext was to grow and help develop cycling globally, and China would provide an opportunity to engage with hundreds of millions more people.

Honourable, indeed, credible? Maybe. Time will tell if the race goes on to live longer than its predecessor, the Tour of Beijing.

Quinzhou, stage two.

Enter my Chinese pilot. He doesn’t understand a single word of English and I don’t know his name, but the most unsettling thing is: it's only his second race on a moto. I’m not entirely sure it conforms with UCI rules, but there is no alternative. Not having any idea of what the course looks like doesn’t make the situation any better. We are given an A and B, but are left guessing as to what lies in between. With Google Maps street view unavailable in China (the Great Firewall of China blocks thousands of websites, including Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Google, and it isn't crumbling), this is a ride into the great unknown.

Liuzhou, stage five.

Another monstrous city in Guangxi, and my frustration is increasing by the hour. Communication with my pilot is nonexistent, and I feel like I’m not getting the shots I’m after. His inexperience makes it a struggle – and no less of a gamble – to navigate past the peloton amidst other pilots freelancing their way into the race convoy. I assume it all comes down to a fear of wrongdoing, and, for sure, I’d rather have my pilot choosing for the safe option than taking unnecessary risks.

To make his life a little easier, and mine too, I made a set of small cards with simple instructions in Chinese, translated from English by a helpful member of the staff. Simple instructions such as «Stay in front!», «Slow down!», and «Go to finish!» make some difference for us at least.

Sanmenjiang Bridge at kilometer 26.5. These man-made structural overpasses that provide passage over a river or road, sometimes make for a good image and, as a photographer, I have an inherent tendency to look for them in the road book. No point in sitting behind the peloton waiting for action. It's easier said than done. My Chinese moto man stops at the start of the lengthy overpass, but I want to be in the middle. With no means of communication expect my basic cards, my intention is not understood. A moto marshal arrives with a translation application on his smartphone, but sadly, it won't recognise my words. «Middle of the bridge» reads «watch out for the dog» on the display, leaving my Chinese counterparts in total confusion. In the end, I got my message across and made it to the middle. But lots of time was lost and I get my positioning all wrong.

And so we roll on through this wondrous landscape. Missing out on a lot of good race images, getting something of the scenery, trying to understand each other.

Guilin, stage six.

In China, there is strength in numbers. At every 20 meters on each side of the race course, either a police officer, a military, or a volunteer was standing guard, back turned toward the race and eyes forward. Carefully watching for anything that could potentially upset the equilibrium of the event. Rider’s safety was thus never really an issue. A quick calculus reveals that roughly 15,000 people were positioned out on the roads of Guangxi on every single stage. It really is on the far side of excessive. In the end, I’m left with the funny feeling that, whatever you believe in – or the UCI comes up with – China will continue to gradually take over the narrative.

End of story.