This isme struggling in to a headwind on my first 5000+ pass ( I say plus because it sounds more substantial than 5011m), the second of the two 5000+ passes which stood in my way between Kunming and Lhasa bizarely peaked at 5013.25m, there was even a large marble plaque to boast of the fact. I concluded that there must be a pass standing at 5013m in Japan or someother historicaly rival nation, not to call the chinese petty but it somehow fits in with their mentality on all things past. The second pass was a much easier affair thanks partly to paved roads, me being alot more acclimatizd to the altitude and most importantly safe in the knowledge that in two days time I would be safely installed in the western comforts of Lhasa. The first on the other hand was on semi-passable dirt roads, it was the first time at being at said altitude since getting appallingly altitude sick in Peru and being daunted by the knowledge that I stil had over 1200km to Lhasa, the last 3km of the climb took about an hour with anti-fainting breaks every 100m or less. My 50kg of bike and bags never felt heavier, nor my matchstick legs weaker.
I will try and be brief about the last month but there has been so many memorable experiences it may not seem so to the reader. The first three days from Dequin deserve special attention as these were the boarder crossing days, a time for cloak and dagger carry on. There were and to the best of my knowledge still are three main checkpoints which the independent traveller must be wary of, one could be passed at day the other two to be passed at night. So from Dequin it was 117km to our proposed campsite just outside Yinjian the site of our fist night crossing. It was to be an easy day with a 1500m vertical descent before a gradual climb up a river gorge. This was my first lesson that there is no such thing as an easy day in the Himalayas. The road was a mess, with punctures galore and kept us at best at a frustrating 12km an hour meaning we cycled from 8am to 12am with a quick nourishing noodle soup as our only sustanance. The day checkpoint provided an adrenaline rush, cycling by the police station in the middle of the village as nonchalantly as possible trying to make out we belonged as much as the wallowing yakswe hear shrill whistles and shouts coming form the direction of the station, our nonchalance turns to fightened haste quite quickly as we drop a gear and cycle like Lance " uh-oh a barrier, never mind we will go around through that shallow puddle, bugger not so shallow, damn stuck in the mud, push push, I'm free, go go". 2km later, muddy and sweaty but free. Was never quite sure if they were shouting and whistling at us, maybe they were inviting us for tea and biscuits, it will just have to be one of lifes mysteries that I will never discover. As the sun set and we switched to headlight reliance we turned a corner and heard a commotion, as my headlight is of the cheap chinese market variety its brilliance leaves alot to be desired we trudged on in pitch black ignorance to find a mass meeting of Tibetan horse people removing supplies from the back of a truck, as surprised as we were by this chance encounter we exchanged a warm "hello,ok,goodbye" (the tibetan staple) for umpteen times then decided it was time to push on. Unfortunately this was the start of 200km of roadworks so unbeknownst to western tarmacadamed Will roads could actually get worse and by golly they did. We concoled ourselves witha dusty building site hole on the side of the road to prepare our noodle soup and try to obtain a restless two hours sleep before continueing up along the cliff edge 3km from the first danger checkpoint. Leaving at 3am under the glow of the clearest noght sky I have ever seen we etched on lightless so as not to draw attention to ourselves. After nearly falling off the side of the cliff a couple of times we decided rather astutely that maybe one headlight might not be such a bad idea. Reaching the first lighted checkpoint we snuck by like burglar bill, climbed aboard our bikes and proceeded to get hopelessly lost in the back streetsof Yinjiang. Monty Pythn could not have done it better, two western fools trying to play espionage, oafing about for a couple of hours untill finally finding the way passed the second checkpoint before dawn. I think I can strke international spy off my potential employment possibilities.
The day before the second night crossing in Markham was noteworthy because of the appalling weather which turned the road in to a rocky, muddy ice rink, which my road tyres were no match for, coming off the bike twice and getting close countless other times was quite appealing in comparison to the hail stones lashing my face and the two torrent river crossings which left my person in a frozen state. At the camping spot still 20km from the checkpoint crossing the temptation to get a little closer was strong but the two ice blocks attached to my ankles refused to move. After a bountiful 4 hours sleep we left our camping spot at 2.30am and blindly went along in 1degree heat on went partly constructed roads, my fearless companion missed a turn went off the road but happilly collided witha pile of sand, we semi-heartilly laughed off the rediculousness of the situation. Only one more trial awaited that night in the form of a calf hungry dog who was out for a midnight treat, a quick rap on the head with our dog fighting sticks prompted him to look elsewhere.
After safely arriving in tibet the time just flew by with the passing of awe-inspiring scenery, glacial river bathing, tibetan festivals, stone throwing kids, near brushes with the police, sampa induced sickness, yak tribesmen, snow showers and torn achilles, oh yes and a hell of alot of cycling. Perhaps if I was a better typer I would delve in to these topics but I am not so I wont. I have to save some stories to bore my grandchildren with on winter eves.
Just a quick note about a remarkable 22year old student from Xi'an whom I met along the way. It was not just the fact that he was cycling to lLhasa that made him remarkable as that would be rather blowing my own trumpet but the fact he was doing it on a single speed bike the type of which you would be hard pushed to find in rural parts of India due to its antiquity. He is also planning to return by such a vehicle, the mad man. On the same note I was also impressed by the pilgrims I regularly passed on the roadside whom every step they take they fall flat on their face in salutation to Budha I suppose, I never asked. These people I passed more then 1000km from Lhasa and I hold nothing but the highest admiration for people who contain such devotion. These people also made me realise that if you compare your personal achievements with those globally you will always end up dissapointed and probably then turn rather bitter and twisted, a quite important minefield to be avoided.
So that is all from this inspiring town where I will pass the next week to rest my aching bones and chaffing ass before heading on via Everest base camp to Kathmandu where I should be by mid August.
