Howdy!
Well, it’s been a long while since I posted to my website. Not that I haven’t been writing. Just in a different form as you can see from the poster! Anyone in Calgary is welcome to join me at the Owl’s Nest Bookstore on November 22 for the launch of my new-first-exciting book. The details are on the poster, but feel free to contact me if you have any questions.
Hope to see you there!
Cheers,
Darren
Four months ago, within a week of arriving in Srinagar India, I bought a bicycle. The feeling I got handing over the money and wheeling that bike out the door was nothing short of euphoric. My own bike in India!!
And when I put on the panniers, rack and other gear I had brought all the way from London with me? The feeling evolved… The cool factor was off the scale! Transforming a fair to middlin’ mountain bike into a touring bike to ride self supported thru the Himalayas?! Seriously cool!
And as I cycled my way out of Srinagar, fully loaded, winding through the small alleyways and throngs of people… I nailed what the feeling was. It was like being nine years old again and full of the wonder of life. An uncomplicated feeling of pure joy. Nine years old and the absolute king of the world!
I have since rode this bicycle more than 1,000 kms over the past four months. I did not ride it everyday, not by a long shot! But each day I did, added to the story:
I continued on from Srinagar to Kargil over Zojila… a pass that humbled my legs and my lungs and had me sleeping in a stupor for an hour at the summit on account of the altitude.
Kargil… town of infamy due to long past conflicts. Zero tourists, save me, enjoying its hard beauty.
Mulbekh – the last day cycling… all day in the pouring rain, happy I invested over $100 for rain gear that would be used exactly once! Yes very happy! Then doing the smart thing and hitching a ride the rest of the way to Leh… safety first – for a change!
Cycling all round Leh – to ancient monasteries and the Elvis themed cafe at the edge of town.
Thru the mystic Nubra Valley – introducing my own cousin to the freedom, the joy and the challenge of cycling in this way, though first teaching her the fine art of shifting gears!
Viewing the small rectangular peak of K2 thru a closer range from a remote tiny picturesque village where a mad, blind queen still sits in the sunlit courtyard of her dilapidated palace. The pomp and ceremony and prestige of a forgotten regal past now a cruel whisper.
Back in Leh, a failed attempt at cycling the highest motorable pass in the world, humbled by the cold, the snow and the altitude a mere 10km from the top. Cycling back down, I have never, ever, ever been that cold!
Even the need to disassemble and pack up my bike, plastering it with cardboard and wrapping it with plastic to fly from Leh-
Them: “That will be 2,000 rupees extra please.”
Me: “What? Why?”
Them: “Because sir… it’s a bike!”
Me: “#@£%&!!”
to Delhi where it would wait out my sojourn to Nepal and a fling with a rental bike -“Really, it meant nothing to me!”- patiently and stoically awaiting my return.
Then… Reassembly! And the joy again to be with bike, my bike in India. Gurgaon to be exact.
The morning rides with my cycle mad friend Vishwas and his cycle mad friends, down the highways that surround Gurgaon. A delightful stop at a chai stand seemingly in the middle of nowhere. No… actually in the middle of nowhere, sharing biscuits with the shaking, begging, mangled-foot puppy.
And then finally.. A long ride! From Gurgaon to Bir, at last a taste of my world ride.. Nine whole days! Okay my world ride was 12 months… I did say a taste! The luxury of it! The sheer luxury of being on the bike in motion for nine days. The landscape and culture passing at exactly the right speed. Exactly. Not too fast, not too slow, juuuuust right!
The ever present roadside restaurants – the ‘Dhabas’. And my developing taste for paranthas – chapatis stuffed with potato and onion. “More butter please!”
The shoddy, shady overpriced main street hotels with ridiculously hard beds that my budget would barely allow, though blissfully and incomprehensibly bedbug free.
A return to Chandigarh and an extra day here with sweet memories of last years wild bicycle ride from Manali to Leh. That trip all started in this charming town, sending my then-soon-to-be, but-now-sadly-ex girlfriend who I would be cycling with, on a wild solo auto rickshaw ride with her bike to meet me at the bus station across town just hours after she arrived from London! And she dated me after this! God love her!
The surprise of whitewashed Anandpur Sahib and my beautiful one day immersion into Sikh culture.
The miles and miles of wonderful wide shouldered roads thru the entire state of Punjab. Noise cancelling earphones and my playlist drowning out the traffic. And sending me to nirvana, as I soaked up the ‘Tragically Hip’ and ‘Barenaked Ladies’. For any non-Canadian and those not of my era reading this… those are bands.
Then the twisting road snaking up in elevation to Bir and the two trucks that nearly sideswiped me before I realized the road no longer had shoulders! Music off, earphones out. Focus Darren! The warmish air of Punjab giving way to the coolish air of the Himalayan foothills.
And finally Bir, the unexpected Himalayan gem and the unexpected end to my cycling in India. Being greeted by the Press, who garlanded me… the ‘Older Canadian Who Biked From Delhi to Participate in The Hell Race.’ Baffled by this attention but bemused by it and their obsession with my age.
Participation in The Hell Race – a 55km on road/off road mountain bike race, along with 65 others and put on by my cycle mad and extremely competent race organizer friend Vishwas from Gurgaon,
“I’ll just go easy”, I tell myself, and anyone who asks. Ha! Ended up fracturing two ribs after tripping while walking my bike over some rough ground. Okay, running over some rough ground. Hey It was a race! I got competitive!
“Bike safe.”, the German woman cyclist warned me as I ran passed her, bike shouldered, portaging the rocks. “Yeah, yeah, I will!”, I hastily replied. Shoulda listened more. I did finished twelfth though!!
Staying put in Bir recovering the ribs and cycling the mountain roads; around the town; down the hill to the ATM in Chandra; over to the Serab Ling monastery for lunch and Buddhist conversation with practitioners – a Spaniard and a Columbian. “Yeah, no I really never got the whole ’emptiness’ concept either!”.
Luxury, this time of riding was. Plain and simple luxury. ‘It’s the little things!’. My new mantra.
With each mile, my affection for my bicycle grew. How could it not? We had shared a lot in such a short time. My bicycle was an intrinsic part of this wild experience I was having. Inanimate yes… I mean after all, it is just a bike! A bunch of aluminium, steel, plastic, rubber and fancy green paint. But to me it had character, became a companion of sorts. So deeply woven into the fabric of this adventure of India. Inanimate sure. Yet fitted with panniers, more a paintbrush on the canvas of highway stretched out before me.
I have just sold this bike. My bike. I will be leaving India soon and sadly no place for it in my luggage. So difficult to say goodbye!
Before the new owner came to take it away, I had it washed. Forty rupees! I wanted to see it looking spanky new one last time. And it did! It looked great!
I watched it disappear down the main road of Bir, with its new owner Karishma… who, with her partner Mike, will be cycling from Manali to Leh this coming summer. It is her first time on a bike with gears and I was thrilled to be a part of her introduction to the transformative world of cycle touring. Even as I grieved my loss.
I’m not sure if this makes me a little crazy to get so attached to a bike! But I do! I did! And its not the first time!
For me it’s as if my bicycle has a soul. It feels that much alive to me. Maybe it’s just the memories of the fascinating miles full of interesting people and places that this bicycle took me, or that sense of youthful enthusiasm I get whenever I push off for another ride.
Either way I will look for the soul of my bicycle to manifest in my next ride. As I know it will. Goodbye my friend. May the road rise up to meet you!
Let me premise this article by first saying that I am not your average participant in The Hell Race. For one thing, I am Canadian, one of only three foreigners in the race. Secondly, at fifty two… I was far and away the oldest participant. But then again… there really was no typical participant. If a ‘Hell Race’ were to be advertised in Canada, it would have attracted testosterone fueled, ultra competitive adrenaline junkies between the ages of 18 and 29. Here? The Hell Race riders? Not so much.
That’s one of the things I enjoyed about this race… a fun field of riders. Sure some were in it to win… but most seemed in it to challenge themselves. Me? I entered happy just to participate and hoped to come out of it unscathed! That for me would spell a successful Hell Race! Unfortunately it didn’t work out that way.
So what exactly is ‘The Hell Race’? It is a 55 km four stage mountain bike race starting in Bir Tibetan Colony, Himachal Pradesh, winding it’s way up a mountain road, -1400 meters up to be exact- before crossing the side of a mountain, then through some terraced fields, and finally a screaming downhill -974 meters down to be exact- to the finish line.
The whole town of Bir embraced the event, posters of the race lined the streets and the empty lot across the street from hotel where most of the riders were accommodated, was being prepared for the awards ceremony and after party. Going in I didn’t realize how big a deal this race was.
It was fun as the participants began arriving from all over India -Bangalore, Delhi, Manali, Chandigarh. And even the world! There was a German rider, a Croatian paraglider and me!
The backdrop of The Hell Race could not have been more heavenly. I mean, have you ever been to Bir? An absolute charming little place in Himachal Pradesh. Tucked into the side of the Dhauladhar Range of the foothills of the Indian Himalayas. A quaint village where terraced farming, tea fields and Buddhist monasteries dominate.
Apart from the busy-ish main street, with its neurotic fleet of incessantly honking and speeding taxis, the colony is dotted with village houses… some still built in the traditional mud brick style. And perhaps a little known fact that this is where the cult hit movie, ‘The Cup’ was based and filmed.
The organisers did a fantastic job of meeting the needs of the race participants. Getting out of towner’s booked into our rooms, and ensuring we were well fed and well informed of the race logistics. Heck… the organisers did a fantastic job of the whole weekend! The whole race! Kudos to them.
The race itself? There were 64 of us. A wild mixture of ages, abilities, and backgrounds. One thing in common, the joy of riding. And competing even! I tried making it not about competing… which lasted until the first few riders passed me. Then it was on!
After an early and chilly morning whistle start, the few riders who everyone knew would be in contention for the top prize money zipped ahead effortlessly. My start was less gracious. I panicked and fumbled to put my camera away as the start time snuck up on me, my last minute selfie session rudely interrupted! At this point I had yet to take the race seriously, still telling myself that I would just enjoy the ride!
The first stage was through Bir colony up the steep winding forested paved road to the paragliding take off point in Billing. It was a grind! Yet it was also where I realized that my lung capacity from cycling from Gurgaon to Bir -a whole other story- started working to my advantage and I started to overtake some of the riders who blew past me at the start! That familiar tug of competitiveness, began to assert itself.
It was on this stretch though that the German rider, a young woman who runs tours out of Manali, blew past me as if I were standing still, dealing a near fatal blow to my male pride. I tried to keep up with her for a while, though I knew if I did I would gas out. So, resigned to having a girl beat me, I backed off to lick my wounds at a slower pace.
Hitting the summit was the end of stage one. The summit being Billing… the Paragliding take off point. Bir-Billing happens also to be one of the premier paragliding sites in the world and is where the 2015 Paragliding World Cup was held. I thought we were to stop here …and I did for a few seconds though carried on quick enough when I realized, “No silly, it’s a race!” Sure, the German girl had passed me, though I had caught up and passed several riders on the uphill ride, and the adrenaline of competitiveness was well flowing! Off I pedalled to stage two.
This section was sublime. It was a four foot wide path, not paved and not gravel. What I would consider the ultimate mountain biking trail. And it was fairly even in elevation as it traversed the mountainside.
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This is where I rocked it! This is the kind of riding I excelled at. And I flew! I entered a glorious state of oneness …with my bike, with the trail, heck with the world! I felt that now familiar feeling that is the reason I am so prone to again and again, even at fifty two, hop on a bike; I felt like a kid again! And as I passed a few more riders, I felt unstoppable!
The trail soon degraded into a tumble of stones, that needed to be traversed on foot with bicycle shouldered or pushed. Welcome stage three! As I entered stage three, just up ahead of me, I saw the German girl. Ha! This was huge! I could finish this race with my misaligned pride intact! I had to catch up! My competitiveness, to my later demise, kicked it up a notch and I hurried to catch her.
And I did, only to be caught simultaneously by a youngster I had long ago passed. My victory was moot. Though as I passed the German woman she uttered to me something that, in hindsight, I would have been wise to heed: “Bike safe.”.
It wasn’t malicious or cheeky at all, more concern, as if she knew I was pushing it. And I was pushing it. My ‘competition’ had morphed from the girl to the youngster who had just passed me. I would be having none of that! But it turned out he was part mountain goat, and hopped over the rocks like it was nothing and soon disappeared from view as I clambered along.
I was by now, well into stage three. One more rider passed me on the early stages of this section, and became the focus of my race. I wouldn’t come in first, I wouldn’t catch the kid/mountain goat though my new and sole focus would be to beat the guy who just passed me! Somehow, I passed him back as the rocky trail transformed into a walk/ride along the edge of a rice terrace… and where I would meet fate. I had already fallen a few times, getting up and quickly admonishing myself each time,”Dude, that was way too close, be careful!” Though I didn’t ‘be careful’, the rider I had just passed was surely on my heels!
It was the fourth time I fell that did it. I wasn’t even riding! I was walking with bike. Okay rushed walking. And the fall? A mix between my front wheel getting stuck in the mud, my back wheel rising and then twisting over in a way that I couldn’t stop, and me losing my footing. I landed with a hard thud into the uneven ground. Taking the impact fully on my right wrist and the right side of my rib cage.
I hadn’t been enjoying this section to begin with… the reverie of section two had long dissipated. Now I was face down in the mud, entwined with my bike, a shooting pain in my ribs that did not belie the crack I heard when I landed. Crap! Ow, ow, ow… crap. CRAP! My race seemed over. My competitiveness drained as I picked myself up to assess the damage.
The guy behind me would surely catch up now. The best I could do was figure out how to get to the finish line as soon, and as painlessly as possible. Off I walked, dragging my bike(”Ouch, ow… crap, ouch!!”), and my pride… my stubborn, stubborn competitive pride with me.
‘The Guy’ never did catch up. And the final stage was a glorious paved downhill as intense in reverse as the way up! I didn’t know how far behind me he was, yet despite being bruised and nearly broken, my competitive spirit rose once again. Braking downhill wasn’t even an option, and I pedalled hard when I could. Keeping an eye over my shoulder for my adversary. I never saw sign of him the rest of the way and so was able to enjoy the final stretch of downhill.
I even caught the youngster! His rear tube and tire no longer even on the rim as he dragged his bike along the pavement, running for the finish line. “Oh, that’s a bummer!”, I said to him as I passed, doing my best to sound concerned. Yet my inside voice was like, “Muahahaha, another one bites the dust!!”. I won’t write his response… seems I wasn’t the only competitive one! Later I felt bad that I was too caught up in the competition to offer him help.
The finish line loomed and I passed it with just enough fanfare from those standing around to make me feel as though I had accomplished something. And indeed I had. The Hell Race was no picnic, several riders had dropped out. I persevered, I stretched my tenacity to the limit and proudly I crossed the finish line, enduring this serious test of will.
It was a surprise to me when I found out that I had actually finished in 12th place! I was delighted! And in incredible pain! Pain that would last over two weeks. Though not enough to stop me from enjoying the awards ceremony and after party! And learn a few Bollywood dance moves, from some of my new friends.
What an incredibly priceless experience! I came to India to cycle tour… my ride up from Delhi was a very slow paced and solitary experience. The Hell Race was a wonderful contrast. All of it. The Social part, and the adrenalin and fast pace of the race itself. Challenged me to my core, both physically and mentally.
I take away great memories of my first and perhaps last mountain bike race. Yes… fond memories, as well as two fractured ribs, some awesome Bollywood dance moves, and about forty new Facebook friends!
So, if you were wondering, “Where in the world is Darren Flach and what the hell is he doing?” … you’ve clicked the right link!
As the title of this post would suggest, I’ve just arrived in Srinagar, India, which I’m finding to be a rather lovely place.
What am I doing here?
I’m on another venture! Or at least another adventurous venture, which I guess makes it an adventure!
So I’m on this adventure…
I’m in Srinagar, and soon my cousin Allison will join me and shortly after that we are going to ride bicycles from here to Leh.
If that sounds like déjà vu, it’s probably because I did something very similar last year. When I told Allison how amazingly cool it was, she wanted to do it too!
Our original plan was to do it as a tour though that didn’t happen so it will be just the two of us.
So far the only big hurdle we are facing is not having any bikes! Something I hope to rectify tomorrow. Wish me luck!
My first Impressions of Srinagar have been quite good. There is an autumnal feel to the air here, at least in the mornings and the people are kind, and respectful in their curiosity of me. There are very few tourists because of the media hype about unrest. My guesthouse host rolls his eyes and shakes his head at this and says it’s never been safer and shakes his head further at the shortage of tourists. I’m super glad to not have bought into the media hype. Though the huge military presence here was quite shocking at first.
There was a strike today, a protest of the government banning people from eating beef and apparently some injuries from a bit of stone throwing on account of the strike, but for me it meant I had the streets almost to myself and I wandered around traffic, horn and hassle free! Only a few cows and sheep, and countless sleeping dogs to contend with!
I also lucked out with my guesthouse… The Lonely Guesthouse! No really, that’s it’s name! Run by a LOVELY multi-generational family. I’m in a spacious dorm and so far have had two amazing dinners. Not to mention several cups of the delectable cardamom-and-cinnamon-infused Kashmiri tea. Bed, dinner and breakfast all for under ten Canadian dollars per night. This is apparently the best deal in India!
There is something for me, intoxicating of being on my own somewhere foriegn.
I felt it today. Simply being at great contrast to a local culture. Senses buzzing as I take it all in.
Every breath feels alive with the newness of what I’m experiencing, with curiosity of the unknowns I will discover. The nuances of this place already establishing themselves in my memory.
The two dimensional feel of the planning phase now bursting into life beyond the maps, photos and articles that brought me here.
Beyond the joy of simply being here, the challenge, and adventure of the cycle trip beckons. Putting it together was one thing -and a ton of time and effort has gone into that- doing it will be something else altogether! And I itch to begin it.
And that I’m doing this adventure with my intrepid cousin… What a treat!
Allison sees this crazy bike trip as her defining year 30 adventure… and I couldn’t be more honoured to be an integral part of that.
From the start, when we hatched this idea just under a year ago we both wanted to do it in conjunction with Two Wheel View, a worthy charity that both of us have a personal connection to. What we want to do is use the exposure of this adventure as a vehicle to raise money to send one or more kids on one of TWV’s life changing bicycle expeditions. We hope that by following us along on our Facebook page, folks will be inspired to donate money to sponsor a yet to be determined lucky kid on the bicycle ride of a lifetime.
Our Facebook page is Cycle The Himalayas For Two Wheel View
The Facebook page will be the main place we will be posting pictures and anecdotes… Though I will also be posting entries here as well.
So what’s next? The next few days I will spend acquiring a couple of good bicycles. I’ve googled the situation, and apparently good bikes can be had for a few dollars a day if rented for a month.
Once bikes have been procured, Allison and I will make our way to Leh, four hundred and thirty four kilometres, a few decent mountain passes, and who knows what weather and road conditions away. Fun!
I will keep you posted!
Being on the bike is the best part of this adventure. Of course! And both bikes worked perfectly. All the contingency we made for breakdown was unnecessary. Neither bike experienced any mechanical breakdown save for a bit of chain suck that a quick wipe of the chain and cogs easily solved. All the effort and expenditures in anticipation of what might go wrong bike-wise was in vain. We both pretty much nailed the attire as well. Each of us had just enough clothes to keep warm and dry while biking and also warm and dry of the bike. Sure it wasn’t pretty not washing clothes in several days, but hey! We were warm!
We had also hit the weather perfectly. No snow, no rain, okay… a bit cool during the nights but beautiful for day time riding.
Leaving Whiskey Nulah had us instantly climbing up to the Lachung La and then screaming down the other side past incredible landscape of hoodoos set ablaze by the sun. The road down was not paved and made for slow going, but the scenery warranted many stops for photo taking and breathing in the beauty of it all.
The pleasant downhill from Lachung La brought us into Pang, a bustling little parachute tent settlement where the residence clearly had a sense of humour. Naming their scant tent operations things like Saajan Hotel, when in fact all that was provided was one or two sleeping spots on the ground of a tent or the make shift rock beds in the restaurant. But at this altitude and this far from civilization, anything out of the wind with a bit of padding was well received.
Heather and I got into the habit of scouting out the best accommodation of each of the small settlements we were to stay. Okay, it was more me than Heather on this one and I believe she chuckled to herself on my search for the perfect rest spot. It paid off though as we usually did bag the best spot! This time it was a tent behind the Saajan Hotel! Thin mattresses on the ground, lined with dust caked blankets and the dirtiest pillows ever. The pillow though were at least brightened by red bunny rabbit pillow cases! I was so thankful to be spared resting my head on these dirt magnets by my sleeping bag and bed sheet!
We walked down the small settlement of about 15 parachute tents to a similar ‘hotel’ whose new and neatly painted menu sign drew us in promising clean safe food. We settled on chow mein and of course the perennial chai that had become a staple of our diet. And well before 8:30 pm we were back in our cozy little tent to watch the remainder of Apocolypto, the only movie I had on my laptop. I forgot how disturbingly brutal it was and cringed that I should choose such a movie to fall asleep by, though Heather insisted that she enjoyed it nonetheless. The laptop battery lasted longer than I did and Heather shut it down soon after. We never did watch the ending!
Falling asleep so early had me wake up in the night… wrestling the need to keep covered with the need to keep the filthy blanket off my face. Yecchhhhh! Turns out I would rather be cold than sucking in the dust off the covers!
I am not a morning person, and it turned out neither is Heather… yet we both almost like clockwork awoke before the alarm rang at six to start our daily ritual of packing up our bedding, changing into our gamey bike clothes, eating breakfast, and setting off.
Thanks John!!
Today would be a reprieve from the constant ascent and descent of passes that we had experienced for the last 7 days since we left Manali. We were on the edge of the Morei Plains, a high altitude plateau that stretched flat for the next 40 kms to our next destination of Debring. Not only was it flat…. it was beautifully tarmaced and we gave thanks to John MacAdam, a Scot who invented tarmac and which sort of bears his name. This tidbit provided by Heather, who insisted that just about everything of practical use was invented by the Scots! Oh did I mention Heather is Scottish?
The smooth ride on the tarmac and the beautiful expanse of the plains coupled with more amazing weather made this a memorable day. Heather and I cycled on, usually side by side shooting the shit and enjoying the scenery, the ride, and the weather. And each other’s company of course. Though I think she may have gotten tired of me telling her just how appreciative I was that she had decided to come along. What can I say… I was still pinched that she had joined me on this epic adventure!
Refelctions of a (formerly) Solo Cyclist
The big lesson I had learned from my epic solo cycle from London to China and more from the isolation I felt while cycling from China to Thailand was that despite my call to adventure at all costs… an adventure was one hundred times better with company… and one thousand times better with good company! The good company I kept as I cycled across Asia are part of me, never to be forgotten and always to be appreciated for the intense time we shared.
And here I was now in the awesome company of Heather, cycling perhaps the most challenging 450 kms of roadway on the planet. So pleased to be sharing this with her!
The expansiveness of the plains filled me up with a sense of well being, representing the feeling of expansiveness that I strive for… even live for. Perhaps that’s what has drawn me to the big mountains of the Himalayas…. this larger than life landscape that can’t help but inspire awe. Here’s a look. Note the lovely tarmac. 🙂
For better or worse I seem to need to touch these expanses to remind me of who I am and what it means to feel truly alive. I cycled on in awe. Feeling so incredibly fortunate and blessed to be experiencing and be moved by this expansive landscape.
Heather and I throughout the trip expressed, somewhat in jest, at the beauty of our surroundings that, “There is a God!! There must be… look at this!!”
And we decided that the god responsible for all this beauty was none other than Ganesh… the elephant headed boy of Indian mythology. Oops, that is probably offensive on many levels to many people. Sorry. We were just having fun! 🙂
We rolled into Debring, happy and content …and early! The earliest arrival yet. Again we scouted around and found the best place, only to have it snagged away by our friends from Trek Bulls as I hadn’t confirmed with the proprietor that we would take it. Curses!
Have A Nice Dream!
We then found the second best place, A mud hut with a sign on the door that read: Bedroom. Have a nice dream!
How could we not take it? Inside were the rock beds and filthy blankets and pillows that were now standard issue. But it was very quaint and out of the wind. Our ancient proprietress could not speak a word of English, yet we communicated a serving of chai and even gleaned from her that this gig of hers in Debring, like all others on this high altitude highway, was only a seasonal thing and that soon she would be heading back to Leh to spend the winter. We also witnessed her spinning Pashmina wool. Wool, cut from the underbelly of goats whose diet of special grass here on the plains gave the wool enhanced warming qualities. Or so we were told by some of the local folks! Either way, this is the area Pashmina wool comes from!
Taking In the Plains of Morei
Heather and I embarked on a long walk, first off to visit with another cycle group who had camped near us, but they were all huddled in their mess tent so we kept walking. It was nice after a full eight days on the bikes to stretch our legs on a hike. We ended up hiking a fair distance and came across an army encampment tucked up a valley off the main route. It was kinda freaky and we decided it was time to turn around. Walking back to the settlement of Debring as the sun lowered on the horizon provided incredible plays of shadow on the surrounding hills and the grassy expanse of the plains. The dust trails off the always present convoy of trucks provided an eire twilight effect. Couldn’t help inserting a ton of photos from this awesome walk.
Once again the expansiveness of my surrounding touched the expansiveness inside of me. Is this what satori is all about? Was I experiencing a taste of enlightenment? Don’t know! I did feel very present with the beauty that pervaded me… right up until my stomach suggested there was something more urgent to attend to. Heather continued to saunter while I rushed ahead to find a toilet.
Later on we enjoyed a rare dinner with our Trek Bull friends. The cook was a magician and the dinner was delicious.
We retired to our mud hut with the rock beds and filthy blankets, happy to be out of the wind and for the half can of warm water our ancient proprietress gifted us. We acted like children on Christmas morning at the feel of the warm water not present in our travels for many days and took advantage of the warmth to do some spot washing! Again, luxury is a matter of perspective and this small can of warm water was pure luxury!!
Sleep came soon after, conversation in the dark faded as I drifted off first. A familiar habit that we joked about.
We had just conquered the Plains of Morie and fell into a well deserved sleep.
The Final Day of Cycling
We didn’t know it when we started out, that this would be our last day of cycling. Leh was still 135km away and we still had the biggest pass to tackle. The good news of this was that on the other side of Taglang La was a HUGE descent into the Indus Valley. Decent!!!
There was talk among the Trek Bulls about making it all the way to Leh that day, but Heather and I were very undecided about it. It wasn’t long though before the thought of a warm shower -which we hadn’t had since near the beginning of the trip- and a nice dinner of pizza and beer quickly lit a fire under our butts and our getting to Leh became our sole focus!!!
Most of Taglang La had tarmac. Ah John… you rock! And we essentially breezed up the pass. We stopped at the top for the obligatory photo opp with the billowing prayer flags, and rock piles that signify the top off passes throughout the Himalayas, and then layered up for the 90 km descent. Funny to have bought pretty much an entire layer of winter cycling clothing for this one frickin’ ride down! But it was money WELL spent! 5238m up was very chilly and the cold didn’t relent until a good 45 minutes down where we promptly had to layer down!
The big ass downhill was big ass FUN! What a great reward for 8.5 days of slogging it out! And what a treat also to reach the bottom of the mountain and enter a completely different world.
Hidden Valley
Our first indication that we were somewhere special was when we passed through the village of Rumtse and also when we stopped for lunch in the village of Gya. Both villages were quaint and ancient. Not in the temporary way of the ramshackle accommodation we had experienced over the course of the ride. No, this were clearly the traditional style of architecture here. And the uniqueness of these villages evoked the feeling of a hidden civilization that for the most part adhered to ancient and traditional ways.
Rumtse and Gya gave the promise that the Ladakh which held my imagination for years would not disappoint. The cultural beauty of these two villages soon gave way to the overwhelming display of nature as we passed through a narrow valley with the most outrages mountainscape I have experienced. It helped that we were travelling through this area late in the day and the slowly sinking sun caught and accentuated the serrated edges of the mountains whose layers had been turned vertical. I had never seen anything like this and once again in short order my jaw was slack with wonder!!
Last Push
It was now getting very late in the day… and we were still a good distance outside of Leh. Decision time. Well or lack of decision! Despite all the talk about it, we just pushed on and after grabbing a bite in the ugly little junction town of Upshi, we jumped back on the bikes, determined to make it to Leh. I could feel the hot shower already!
It was not easy going though, as the last several kilometres into Leh were uphill. And about twenty kilometres we pedalled along in the dark, which was actually quite harrowing. About seven cyclists, most without lights or reflective clothing and a support vehicle edging into Leh, still uphill on a very busy roadway in pitch blackness. Not a great end to the ride of a lifetime… though, frayed nerves aside, definitely memorable!
Once in Leh we milled about while a hotel was secured, or at least located. Heather and I had already discussed a little luxury for a few days and upgraded ourselves to a mid-range hotel, the Ladakh Continental, who won our business by promising us hot water for our highly anticipated showers!! Others we checked out could not!
Arriving had become a bit of a scramble. We left the Trek Bulls once we figured out where they would be staying and got about the business of unloading our bags in the hotel and each taking our first in 9 day shower. LUXURY!!
I’m sure we did some kind of back slapping or high five ritual to celebrate the huge achievement of cycling one of the world’s highest and most difficult roadways. I can’t remember. I do remember how very tired I was and, after my luxurious shower, and a nice and also highly anticipated pizza and beer dinner with Heather, how exquisitely good it felt to hit the sack on a soft bed, with a fluffy pillow and clean sheets where I didn’t need my bed sheet, my sleeping pad or my sleeping bag. Gotta say it again …talk about LUXURY!!!!!
Yup… We Made It!!
No bus rides, no hitchhiking, no baling. We freaking did it!! Heather didn’t fly out til the 19th and so we spent the next several days endlessly congratulating ourselves and indulging in scrumptious meals from the surprisingly great restaurants in Leh. And of course we did some sightseeing, including one very memorable day motorscootering to the outskirts of Leh to visit several Buddhist monasteries. The highlight of which was Hemis Monastery where we timed as dozens of young monks were getting out from monk school! A lively scene.
Tough Farewell
I must admit to really grasping on to these last moments of time spent with Heather and it was very tough when it came time to say goodbye. We had entered this adventure as friends… and the adventure cemented our friendship. Got us well past the polite and formal stage. I mean 7 days in close proximity without showering or washing clothes is pretty much make or break! Our friendship survived, and deepened.
Shit, it was VERY difficult saying goodbye! This journey signified a change for me. Mr. Solo Long Haul Bike Guy had changed. No longer was it all about gutting it out all by my lonesome, doing it all myself and abhorring even the mention of help from anyone!
No. I think that guy is well gone!
I definitely needed that solo adventure… and I most definitely got my money’s worth. But doing this adventure with Heather really drove home to me how much more dimension an adventure has when it’s shared. Even in the simpliest of moments. In stopping to take in a vista and have Heather roll up on her bike to share a smile, and a few words of awe at the beauty before us. That memory, that shared thing… now one more sweet moment that connects us.
Yes. One Thousand Times Better.
Day 4
September 10th, 2014
Jispa (3255m) – Zing Zing Bar (4067m)
Bad Altitude
It was about this time that Heather began expressing concerns about the high altitudes we would be soon hitting. We were already at 3200m and we would be soon camping above 4,000m. Heather has been a medic on a few high altitude ventures and has had to manage folks who had succumb to high altitude sickness. And as she voiced her concerns to me, I remembered my own brushes with altitude sickness on the Annapurna circuit and in Tibet. Altitude sickness is NOT fun and I was admittedly naive about it on this journey. Heather talked and I listened. She had a very valid point that being at a high altitude for at least a couple of days posed dangers. Once up there… the way to safety meant that either way we could have to go up before we went down to a lower altitude …and safety.
Despite this creeping doubt, we pushed on, though giving ourselves the grace of bailing out if either of us even began having even little symptoms of AMS. Neither of us wanted to be carted down to Leh in some bumpy bus ride sick as dogs!
We had a day to think about it. Zing Zing Bar at 4,067 metres was coming up and beyond that we would not drop below 4,500 metres for at least a couple of days. Our concern of what to do grew but it didn’t ruin the days ride!
The days ride ended in Zing Zing Bar at a place that offered tent accomodation. For 800 rupees we snagged a very cute and comfortable canvas tent with raised beds. We opted against the tent with the attached bathroom. Heather was not too keen on having a toilet that obviously just dumped into the ground so near to where we slept! Good point. Saved a little money on account of that which is what I liked!
Luxury is Relative
We were treated to the best meal yet over the entire four days travelled. It was simply beans and rice, but oh my god!!! Soooo delicious! It’s interesting how one’s standards of luxury change given circumstance. Here we were 4067 metres on a lonely highway and bagging a cosy tent with raised beds and a hot rice and bean dinner felt so five star!!!!
The night was very cold but cozy thanks to the extra blankets that supplemented the warmth provided by our sleeping bags. We talked a little about the impending altitude dilemma, but decided to just keep carrying on and keep a close eye on how each of us was doing. So far neither of us were showing signs of altitude sickness. Only the side effects of the diamox we were taking to counteract the effects of altitude sickness… i.e. lots of peeing!!
The next day we would tackle Baralacha La, a pass at 4890 metres was almost 1,000 metres higher than Rohtang. I slept with anxious anticipation of a difficult climb and a need to pee but not wanting to leave my cozy bed for the outhouse!
Day 5
Zing Zing Bar (4067m) – Sarchu (4408m) via Baralacha La (4890m)
September 11th, 2014
My anxiousness about cycling Baralacha La proved to be pointless. As I guess any anxiety does! Baralacha La was a dream! Tarmac pretty much the whole way up and okay, not so much tarmac on the way down, but it was down so it didn’t really matter. We had the weather …bright sunny day and there was no headwind. All in all it was a fantastic ride!
More Luxury
We arrived in Sarchu early and after bargaining, we settled into our luxury tent complete with Western toilet and running water. We had bargained the owner down to 1,000 rupees but after experiencing the luxury and the delicious dinner and breakfast, we offered him another 200 rupees. Well worth the money!! Heather wasn’t bothered so much by the attached toilet as there was no perceptible smell!
Here we also had the opportunity to talk with members of a motorcycle tour who were also staying at the luxury camp. We passed many motorcyclists on our way from Manali. So many! I was beginning to wonder if for the predominantly male, Indian tourists travelling the Manali-Leh highway by Royal Enfeild, it was some kind of rite of passage?
The following gallery kinda speaks to my Royal Enfield obsession. Indulge me!
The Royal Enfield is formerly an English brand motorcycle whose rights were sold to a manufacturer in India and now has become something of a status symbol in India and is even being exported back to England. The distinctive grumble of the engine ensures that a Royal Enfield will never sneak up on anyone! The style of it hasn’t changed much in hmmmm decades, though this unintentional retro look is part of it’s charm! I was charmed by these bikes and even rode one for an afternoon in Manali! It was great fun until I dumped it while at a stand still on a slope that along with gravity, pulled the bike over. It’s okay I wasn’t hurt! But I did break the break lever and had to pay 500 rupees for damages! After the fall, I was done with wanting to ride something with an engine! Happy to return to my bicycle!
Without fail, every single Enfield driver and passenger who passed us would greeting us with a thumbs up! It was a nice to feel that two wheel commarodary. I always did my best to thumbs up back… given road conditions of course!
It was good meeting and talking to the group of motorcyclists at the camp. This group all hailed from Western countries and all had very interesting stories and reasons for tackling one of the most difficult, highest and remotest highways on the planet. One couple even brought their daughter along! Another couple from Germany were on a three month oddysy that took them across Central Asia on much the same route that I took. It was great to talk with them and swap stories!
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The Question Of Altitude
It was here in Sarchu that the rolling conversation Heather and I engaged in about altitude hit a fever pitch. We agonized over what to do. The next day was there was no turning back, we would be above 4500 metres for at least three days. We even considered just packing it in and taking a bus to Leh… which was actually enticing because it would give us more time to spend hanging out in and around Leh, a city that has been on my bucket list forever!
I’m glad we decided not to do this option. Despite the dangers of AMS, I was still kind of attached on making it the whole way to Leh on my bicycle. Continuing to ride gave us the chance of this happening. We actually arrived at this conclusion the next morning after breakfast so I had a restless sleep wondering what to do. Not to mention that I decided to test how warm my sleeping bag was and declined extra blankets. I wanted to know if it was warm enough for the next night, camping at 4,850 metres at Whiskey Nahla. It wasn’t warm enough and my little experiment had me freezing the whole night which added to my lousy sleep.
Day 6
September 12th, 2014
Sarchu(44080 – Whiskey Nahla(4850m)
via The Infamous Gata Loops (4190) and Nakee La (4740)
Onward Ho!
After a great hardy buffet breakfast and more interesting chats with the motorcyclists, we coordinated with Trek Bulls about the next stop and off we went. They once again were more than happy to take our bags and they continued to be a big part of our trip. Despite Heather and I spending a lot of time on our own, we were becoming friends with the whole contingent of the Trek Bulls group. I still coveted my independence from the group as this is just my style of travel. Though because we were travelling at about the same speed and spent evenings at the same settlements there was lots of interaction between all of us. They were becoming friends!
Oh and so yeah… Heather and I decided to carry on! Despite my restless freezing cold sleep, I did have some clarity in the night about what to do. I didn’t want to take a bus and both Heather and I were feeling healthy. My though in the night was to travel with Trek Bulls for the safety and support that travelling with a group and support vehicle offered. This felt like the best choice to both of us.
I worried that we would get too integrated with Trek Bulls and in doing so lose some of then solo spirit of our adventure, though as it was, we had fine companions to share this journey with and that they were graciously carrying the majority of our gear meant that it was actually possible to cycle the whole way! I had since conceded that the amount of stuff I had brought along would have either prevented me from cycling the whole route, or made me a very grumpy cyclist!
So, cleared of doubt, off we went on a bright yet cool September day. Today’s challenge would be the Gata Loops… The valley we had been travelling in came to an abrupt end and in order to continue, a series of switchbacks had been dug into the side of the mountain to allow traffic to reach the Nakee La pass. Twenty One loops! It was slow going, though kinda fun to count down the loops! At the top of the loops, the Trek Bulls support crew had steaming hot Maggie noodles waiting for us. I was resisting taking advantage of their kindness… but hot noodles at the top of a cold, cold pass? I couldn’t resist! And randomly on a table in the Kiosk situated at the top of the loops, I saw some graffiti of a pair of cyclists I had met up with on my trip across Central Asia!
The top of the loops was not the top of the pass, we still had 10 km of hard slogging to go and we carried on and then enjoyed a nice downhill ride into our next sleep destination – Whiskey Nulah.
At 4802 metres, this would be our highest sleep. Heather and I scouted every inch of the little settlement for the best place to stay. There wasn’t much to choose from. A few sad yurts made out of the cloth of WWII era parachutes as much of the huts along this route were. Inside the yurts were some mattresses on the ground and blankets. It was sad and kind of disgusting to the point where we thought that maybe it would be better to finally break out the tent.
The main parachute yurt, where food was cooked and served by the smiliest woman I had met on the entire route was another possibility. It had raised beds made of rock covered in mattresses that doubled as seats during meal times. This was the best choice and we took it for 200 rupees each per night.
We gambled that there wouldn’t be too many customers that night and that the warmth of the fire would give us some respite from the bitter cold outside. As we had prepared to camp, we each had brought our sleeping bags and sleeping pads. On the ill covered rock beds this was a godsend. The mattress pads mad sleep possible on the hard rock beds and the sleeping bags gave us some warmth and also some protection from the filthy dust infused blankets that we needed to stay remotely warm in the night. It was rough, rough sleeping arrangments. Yet we both agreed it was better than setting up tent and sleeping on the cold ground!
It was by far the most interesting and random night of our adventure. In the early evening, several waves of truckers came in for tea, curious of the two strangers bedding down in this ramshackle high altitude restaurant! And it turned out that the woman cooking and her aged mother also slept in the yurt and so we shared space with them and woke up the next morning to the mother doing her Buddhist chanting and spinning her prayer wheel. The fire that was sure to keep us warm had long since gone out, yet the headache I got from the kerosene used to fuel it remained. Or was that the altitude that made my head hurt? Or the diesel from the idling TATA trucks parked just outside the door? Either way, I was glad when morning came and I could get some fresh air. As we set off, we watched as the mother took the one cow, which had been penned up since we arrived earlier in the evening, out to pasture and most likely to collect dried dung for the fire. Such a simple existence.
Day 1 September 7th, 2014 Manali to Marrhi(1900m – 3303m) After a very nice few days in Manali, we head off!
The first day is said to be the roughest and it is further said that those who complete it are most likely going to re-think their resolve to complete the entire route. It is a whole day of riding uphill with nothing but a 50 metre reprieve of flat cycling! Circumstance had us cycling this route in September which is said to be the best month, unfortunately the monsoon season was not yet over so we experienced some rain. The real challenge though lay with the amount of gear I was carrying. I was told it was wise to carry a tent and camping equipment as there was a possibility to be caught in between sleeping places. This extra gear added considerable weight to the essentials I was already carrying and after even just a few kilometres, I got a little grumpy at my slow pace and the work it took to get myself up the steady incline.
We did finally make it to our destination of Marrhi, dead tired but very glad to have bagged one of the only accomodation places in the ramshackle little town. We stayed the night in the dilapidated Government building that is used to house officials that come to ‘town’. It seemed though that not even officials stayed there too often! It was a little rough! Despite this, we were happy to have a roof over our head and a sit down toilet! We were allotted an ice cold bucket of water for cleaning and toilet use and were given a warning that if it rains heavily… the roof leaks right over the beds! Well, it rained heavily that night without either of us realizing and the roof leaked right over Heather’s bed! Her sleeping bag was soaked but it didn’t seem to have bothered her sleep!
For this ‘luxury’ we paid 1,000 rupees! Dinner at the Snow Lion Restaurant was very basic. I went for my default safe food of tomato soup and rice from the not very large menu selection. The plentiful food choices we enjoyed in Manali were now a thing of the past. From here on we would be offered a breakfast of bread omelet or perhaps the odd porridge, and a lunch and dinner of Thali… the perennial Indian meal of dahl, mixed veg, chapati and rice. If lucky maybe chow mien or a bowl of Thukpa, the Tibetan version of noodle soup. The higher in altitude we got, the smaller the menu got. But thankfully everywhere we went, there was always a hot cup of chai waiting for us! Day one was over!! We had made it through the toughest day of the entire route… and with two fully loaded bicycles. We walked back to the Government house in the chill of the night happy with our accomplishment. Though not too thrilled that we would be carrying so much gear the rest of the way. Wait.. Heather’s load was manageable so I was solely unthrilled! Soooo much gear. What was I thinking?! Day 1 Photo Gallery
Day 2 September 8th, 2014 Marrhi (3300) to Sissu (3086) via Rohtang La(3978m) It was in Marrhi that we met up with a group from India who were also cycling from Manali to Leh. They were travelling with a support vehicle, and they offered to help us out with some of our bags. After spending the entire first day struggling up the first pass, I was more than glad to accept their offer and offloaded my biggest and heaviest bag with them! This made cycling soooo much more pleasurable! At this point, I still thought I could do the entire route fully loaded, but I knew it would be a hard grind. Offloading even one bag was a huge relief! Marrhi to Sissu had us going over the Rohtang Pass. At only (only?)3978m, this would be the smallest of the four passes we were to cross before reaching Leh. It was the smallest, yet the toughest and as luck would have it, we experienced extremely wet weather on the far side of the pass.
The descent was chilly to say the least and complicated by the fact that the road was not well paved and slick with mud and gravel. A couple of times we hit some backed up traffic. Thanks to being on bikes, we were able to skirt around the dozens of cars trapped behind the crews working to make the washed out road accessible again. Crazy that on the far side of the pass I also randomly bumped into a friend of mine who I had met more than a year ago in a hostel in Shenzhen! Janny was just coming back from her trip to Leh and lunching in the same spot as we were! A quick photo snap and a brief catching up was all that time would allow us. Though as she said, “We are travellers, we will meet again somewhere!”
By the time we made it to Sissu, our rest place for the night, the pass was long behind us and the weather turned pleasant. There was some confusion as to where the town actually was and our efforts to figure out if we were in the right place were complicated by the very drunk yet friendly man who was trying to help us! It would be a common occurrence to arrive at a destination only to find that accommodation was another few kilometres away. We wearily wheeled our bikes up another incline and settled into a very nice hotel overlooking the beautiful lush river valley below us. A lovely Butter Chicken dinner and hot shower later we turned in after admiring the clear moonlit starry night sky from our balcony, proud that we had completed the first of the four passes we needed to cross to get to Leh. Day 2 Photo Gallery
Day 3 September 9th, 2014 Sissu (3086m) – Jispa (3255m) Morning came to sun peaking over the mountains and lighting up the range on the far side of the river. We enjoyed a breakfast on the balcony taking this all in. And then it was on to changing out of our comfortable ‘off bike’ clothes and into our still damp and somewhat dirty bike clothes.
To conserve space and weight, both Heather and I brought only minimal clothing which meant that we biked in the same clothes day after day. Yuck!! This was actually one of the big tests of this ride! As we gained in altitude and the air got cooler, it was such a challenge to get out of our beds and into dampish cycle clothing. Yuck!! But once on, anticipation of the day’s bike ride over shadowed the grossness of smelly, dirty clothes!
This day proved to be another good one! The weather was perfect for our 9-ish start and not long after dropping off my big bag with the Trek Bulls support vehicle, the vehicle caught up with us a little up the road and the driver, R.K., offered to take ALL of our bags!!! YES PLEASE!!!! We happily unloaded our panniers into the jeep, profusely thanking the driver for such charity! It was a funny thing that they did not know how to take our thanks! Professing time and again that it was really nothing. Yet for us it meant the world and it meant a far more enjoyable trip. We bid the support vehicle good bye and carried on light as a feather! And fully soaking in the granduer of the scenery that surrounded us. It was by far the best day of biking so far. Our load was minimal, the day remained sunny and warm, the grade was mostly flat or even downhill, and there was little traffic. This made it easy to bike and converse at the same time. The ride, instead of a chore became somewhat festive!
Despite receiving much appreciated assistance from the Trek Bulls group, Heather and I kept mainly to ourselves in riding and in our dinner and breakfast plans. The Trek Bulls group were camping and cooking.
Heather and I both were in agreement that where possible, we would stay indoors and eat at restaurants! This was our comfort level and the teasing of the others did not sway us from continuing this pattern of finding the best low budget accomodation the entire 9 days! Even though some of the places we stayed would get a little – how do I put this?- a little gross! We made very good time and arrived early-ish in Jispa. The others set up camp in an open field and the cook got to the business of cooking their dinner while we scouted out the few guesthouses a little up the road. We settled on the Himalayan Guest House which had nice a nice room for 400 rupees(less than $10). They only offered one dinner choice…. Thali and feeling a hankering for pasta, we went for dinner next door at the Ibex Hotel. After a lovely pasta dinner, we went to where Trek Bulls had set up their campsite and enjoyed a bonfire and piece of chocolate cake to celebrate Wishvas’s birthday! Wishvas is the main man behind Trekbulls.com and leader of this pilot cycle tour that saw four participants, and a crew of four support staff wind their way from Manali to Leh. We would come to know this group well over the next several days as our respective adventures intertwined. Walking back from the bonfire was magical as the air was crisp and cool and the sky was clear and bright with stars. The moon had risen over one mountain and was now softly illuminating another. It was simply breathtaking. It couldn’t have been more than 9:00pm but we were done thanks to the effort of biking all day, an we both soon drifted off to a satisfying sleep. Day 3 Photo Gallery
Planting The Seed
It was a simple aspiration… solo cycle the Himalayas, full stop. With the crowning glory of this journey being the Manali-Leh Highway, a very high altitude route famous among cycle tourists in equal measures for it’s stunningly beautiful landscape, diverse traditional cultures, and the many challenges it presents. Challenges? High altitude, deteriorated road conditions, rainfall, relentless sun, freezing cold, snow, and wind. All the things you would expect from the unpredictable mountain passes. Culture? Landscape? Well, you will have to check out the photos!!
This would be a test of my courage and my resolve. Did I have what it takes to bike solo and unsupported across one of the highest motorable highways in the world?
Well, the trip is now over and I have cycled the distance…. though the trip ended up quite different that I had thought and the above questions remain unanswered!
I conceived the idea from the luxury of my house sitting gig in Thailand where I had been relaxing for several months after my epic world cycle trip that brought me from London, England to Koh Lanta, Thailand. Having spent over a year in the tropics, I was dying for some crisp mountain air and wild mountain scenery and as my house sitting gig was about to end… I jumped at the chance to cycle a high altitude highway.
Part of wanting to tackle a high altitude pass was to make up for missing out on the Pamir Highway when I cycled through Central Asia a year and a half previously. The Pamir Highway is another high altitude route also coveted by adventurous cycle tourists and one I missed out on because Tajikistan, the country in which the Pamir Highway lies, was in the midst of some political instability and access to the highway was cut off.
Bummer.
So here it was two years later and opportunity knocked to do the Manali-Leh Highway. And it was sooo calling me!
Only thing was, the window to do the route was closing. It was May and I had about four months to gear up, get me and my bike to India and cross the pass before it closed in September. I had to giddy up!
Slight Change of Plans!
Gearing up was no easy feat, considering I had been cycling in fair weather for the most part of two years and I had long ditched most of my cold weather cycling clothing. Not to mention all the essential biking clothes I had which was all but worn out.
Yikes! But the lure of the adventure before me made preparing a joy and the anticipation of what lay ahead filled me with wonder and excitement.
It was early in these preparations though that my journey took on a completely different flavour. The way in which I wanted to travel required me to be self supported, which meant I needed my cook stove that I had left with a friend in London. I emailed Heather telling her what I was up to and if she could please send along my cook stove?
I also asked her along! I knew she was an adventurous sort as well and what did I have to lose by asking…
Me:
" I still haven't given up on some crazy adventure karma having our paths cross again. I mean if biking Ladakh appeals to you... you are totally welcome to join!!"
Heather:
"I would actually love to come out & join you on part of your cycling trip, if it was ever possible to co-ordinate. I am looking for a bit of a cycling adventure.."
Say what?
Holy shit!!!
The face of my trip changed completely. And for the better. Yes I like the challenge of solo travel and all that, yet only because I usually can’t find anyone daring enough to come with me! Here was a good friend wanting to share this with me. I could not have been more please and I gladly let go of my solo aspirations to include Heather in my plans. No… it was more like the adventure all of a sudden became ‘our’ adventure. As much hers as mine.
With about three and a half months to go, there was a very real possibility that I would now have a cycling companion!! It may seem like a silly thing to be excited about, but none of my friends who I have invited to cycle with me have ever taken up the offer. Which is cool I understand about priorities, but I have longed for the opportunity to share my world with friends, a friend, anyone!!
And here was Heather saying an enthusiastic “yes!” to become part of this Himalayan adventure.
Despite repeatedly pinching myself to ensure that this was really happening, I also often remind myself that at anytime, circumstances in Heather’s life could prevent her from joining me.
Though as time progressed, it became very clear that she was totally serious and committed to doing this journey with me.
I remained in this flux between anticipation of her arrival and the very real possibility that she may not make it, right up until I saw her arrive at the Chandigarh airport.
Arrival
Heather, my intrepid cycling companion who booked two weeks out of her busy schedule to accompany me on a journey of a lifetime, a bicycle adventure from Manali to Leh, was here in Chandigarh! I could not stop staring at her as she struggled with her bicycle in the baggage area. I mean sure, she is totally cute… but I was staring at her (mostly) because I couldn’t believe she was actually here! It was like seeing a mirage….
“Really? She’s here? This is happening?”
“Darren, stop staring and help me with the bike.”
Right.
Oops!
The plan was to relax a bit in Chandigarh and then catch a bus up to Manali later that evening. In the meantime I would get my bike adjusted to make it easier to climb the many passes on the Manali-Leh highway. Well, I never did get my bike fixed! I left to go get it done then realized that I had left it too late and had to have Heather meet me at the travel agent where the bus to Manali was booked.
So not even a day in India and I had Heather flagging down an auto rickshaw, piling in with her bike and luggage and go off to a location she only knew the name of with a rickshaw driver who soon got last and our only communication was through texting through her London mobile account. I was down to six remaining txt messages and about to cancel our night bus, when she appeared out of traffic with a big though nervous smile that said, “Okay I made it… but that was tough!”
I had hoped to make the first bit easy for Heather as this was her first time in ‘real’ India outside of her resort trip to Goa. But no. I blew it and there she was alone in a rickshaw in a strange city in a strange country. Oops… sorry ’bout that! But as I say, she arrived with a smile and an “Oh well, shit happens!” and we hopped our bus to Manali in the nick of time.
So not even a day with my new travelling companion and I came face to face with one of the biggest challenges of travelling with someone… having someone witness, and be affected by, my mess ups! When I’m on my own they aren’t really mess ups, they are just the way I do things!! But with someone along, I am acutely conscious of the fact that how I do things don’t always go as planned and I’m especially conscious when it affects them in a negative way. And the illusion I have of myself as a fully capable and competent traveller… is put to question! Ugh.
Manali – Mile Zero
I had just been to Manali with my cousin Allison. And had the place sussed out, and even had arranged for the guy who runs the guest house we would be staying at to pick us up. THAT all went smooth and even the rest of our two day stay in Manali went smooth. It was a nice backdrop to get reacquainted. Not to mention gear up a little more and put Heather’s bike together.
We booked a room with a loft and so had plenty of space to sort out our respective gear. I had bought a tent on account of a suggestion from two Scots who had done the trip the previous year and highly recommended that we travel with one…. yet it also put my gear quotient over the top.
I was simply carrying too much gear.
Though it was too late to leave anything behind as I may not make it back to Manali and I didn’t trust leaving my laptop behind. Yeah that’s right… I brought my laptop!!
So I resolved to just suck it up and carry the load. Tent, campstove, camp fuel, cookware, laptop, camera, assorted charging cables. Oh and food as well!!
Didn’t feel quite right… but what were my options?
We did a fun short cycle without the panniers the day before we left, just to make sure the bikes were okay and ensure we knew our way out of town! I had cycled with Heather before in Bolivia and in England and I knew her to be an extremely good cyclist. She had her doubts about whether or not she could keep up… our little fun cycle reassured her that she was up to the task.
Our few days in Manali ended with a great dinner and a beer and a last minute planning session at a very nice hotel. We returned to our guest house for our last sleep before the big journey began the next morning! Both of us excited, yet nervous to begin this crazy adventure cycling one of the highest and most difficult highway on the planet!
