Golden Temple Amritsar

On the road again..............finally

Here are me and my new companion Kieran crossing the long awaited and belated border between India and Pakistan. The last few weeks have been a constant struggle to obtain the necessary documents to proceed to Pakistan and Iran but with a bit of grit and determination and the inevitable dollar we finally got everything wrapped up in Delhi last Friday so since then it has been all go, go, go. That for a man who has done nothing but wait, wait, wait for the past two months is about two and half goes too many. Leaving Mcloud Ganj up in the Himalayas on Sunday morning I calculated that I have spent 6 days on my bike in the past three months if my brain was not transmitting this fact to my subconscious my legs certainly were, it was a struggle to say the least and considering this first day to Pathankot consisted of a 1700m descent and the rest flat the tidings were looking rather grim. Thankfully though the body maybe weak but the mind is still strong so I am writing this 300km later in Lahore grateful for the days rest but feeling slightly more optimistic about my state then four days ago.

Delhi this time round was a much more civilised affair as I was staying with some good friends in a beautiful apartment in a quieter area of Delhi then my usual haunt around the main bazar. I have always been a champion of eastern hospitality but this about took the biscuit with all my meals being served and cooked by a smiling Nepalese maid and my friends doing everything in their power to entertain an Irishman bored of waiting, anyone who knows me knows that this is not an easy task! For all those lovely people who are reading this entry my heartfelt thanks go out to you and look forward to seeing you all again in the near future.

The cycle to Lahore was a monotinous trudge through the plains of the Punjab with a mixture of dust, trucks and incredibly fast and noisy buses. On the positive there are sikhs everywhere who are such a friendly breed of people you would not believe this coupled with cycling with a companion for the first time since Tibet made the pain in my legs bearable and in retrospect was probably ideal for my reintroduction in to the cycle touring trade as there was not a climb in sight. Our last stop in India was Amritsar where the Sikh's golden temple is situated which is quite beautiful and which also offers free accomadation to weary travellers such as ourselves which was very clean, warm and comfortable and run by an extremely friendly man who offered us tea every minute of the day and gave us a big hug on departure, probably my first from a big bearded turbaned man but hopefully not my last!

The border crossing was rather uneventful, I don't know what I was expecting maybe a few derogeratory slurs being shouted from one side to the other but unfortunately/fortunately it was rather peaceful. We also met a couple of Nepalese cyclists heading on the same route as us, they were part of the inspiring group of people who travel on 1 speed bikes and with about 2 kilos of luggage, really put us with our 27 speed bikes and 20 kilos of luggage to shame. We later found out that there 2 kilos of luggage mostly contained postcards and souveneirs from their country to give to people, bloody do-gooders!

The entrance to Lahore was an adrenaline rush and maybe one of the most dangerous sections of my trip to date. A 4 - 5 lane motorway filled either side for 3 kilometres with the biggest livestock market I have ever seen, sheeps the size of goats, goats the size of cows, cows the size of bulls, bulls the size of tanks and camels the size of giraffes numbered in their hundreds. Thankfully they were well marshelled and were not part of the obstacles that were needed to be avoided post haste, never before have I seen such a variety of animal and motor drawn vehicles going left right and centre and I dont think for a full 30 minutes I had the chance to blink. We managed to find a rather cosy room and after wiping off the mouse shit form my bed and eating a kilo of beautifully bar-b-qed red meat I fell in to a peaceful slumber.

So far the Pakistanis are everything I have heard them to be, extremely friendly without being obtrusive and willing to help in every way possible. I have barely been here 24 hours so yet to make a conclusive judgement.

Tomorow we will start to go towards Multan which may take about 3 days, from there it is about 7 days across the mountains, snow permitting, to get to Quetta where we will take a train across the rather dodgy Baluchistan to Zahedan in Iran.

Mum paying her respects to Nandi.

My front garden in Delhi.

The here and now

Although I hesitate to contribute to my blog when I have not seen let alone cycled my bike for the past 5 weeks I believe a brief update may be necessary to let people know of my whereabouts. Unfortunately Delhi has been my home for three of the past four weeks and though this has been made bearable by the fantastic combination of Delhi friends, old travel friends, old school friends and not so old parents every pore in my body yearns for the escape from the engulfing noxious air of this city.

The weeks out of the saddle have made me soft, so much so that by the time of the departure of my parents I had returned to my south side marshmallow state and was committed to skipping Pakistan due to the unrest, flying to Dubai, ferry to Iran and continue from there. Despicable thought in retrospect. Thankfully due to the arrival of new and enthusiastic blood in the shape of Kieran and a "harden up" e-mail from a certain relation my lust for adventure returned, and my bones are aching for the return to the saddle.

After a series of quite remarkable coincidences which would prove to the most devout cynics that fate exists, the impossible was achieved, a 20 day Pakistan visa. Not enough to cycle across the whole country but it will certainly mean I can continue along the full distance by land, not ideal but considering the state of Pakistan it will do nicely!. I will not divulge the particulars which led to the issuing of the visa but the many gods who have helped me get so far continue to aid me in my travels, and I venture to an uncertain Pakistan certain of my well being.

All that remains to be done in Delhi is to obtain my Iranian visa which will hopefully be done by mid next week. This could have been done in Pakistan but not quite willing to leave everything to fate and the gods I believe a quick escape route may be necessary if things escalate while we are there. After the issuing of this visa I will return to my neglected steed up in the beautifully fresh air of Bhag Su in the Himalayas with a friend from Delhi.
Where i will wait for Kieran who has the less enviable task of cycling out of Delhi and up through the Punjabi plains to meet me a couple of weeks later, one hell of a way to start your cycle touring life! One can never dictate what will happen in the next 24 hours in India let alone three weeks but if all goes according to plan I will have safely crossed the boarder in to Lahore. Keep your fingers crossed!

For more information from now on you can check Kieran's blog at delhi2dublin.blogspot.com also there is a link to a charity site that he is doing his cycle for, THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME AND WHAT I AM DOING but the charity sounds like a worthy cause so if you would like to sponser him and relieve some weight from your wallets don't hesitate

At last I meet my romantic picture of the Tibetan people, it is just a shame it has to be here in Dharamsala, the exiled home of the Dalai Lama, and not in their rightful home in Tibet. The peopleI described as cold and vacant on my departure form the roof of the world could be from a different planet compared to the 5000 strong community of exiled Tibetans currently n residence in the surounding mountains. The monks here are amiable and talkitive, one recounting his march along with 14 compatriats across the Himalayas, risking being shot on sight by the chinese to escape their beloved country. I have tried to keep as open a mind as regards the tibet issue since the start but talking to the exiles it is hard not to become the most radical of partisans. The rape of their country has been done with such clinical british colonial techniques that one can see no return for these people to the land they lust for. Tibetans historicaly had never let foreigners in to their country due to a prophecy forseeing the destruction of their land and culture by foreign invaders, this goes somewhere to explain the natives unwelcoming nature towards us whiteskins.

On a lighter note Miss Tibet 2007 has just been concluded last night with a firework spectacular, Indian style. Unfortunately due to the 4euro entry fee I stayed away from the grand finale but on my arrival here a very excited Delhi man accosted me to show me with delight on his camera shots from the swimsuit section of the competition, 5 beautiful scantily clad Tibetans frolicking about at the side of a pool. Reaction from the monks is one of disdain towards the competition, but seeing alot fileing towards the event last night reinforced my opinion that blind devotion to religion or not men love to see semi naked women!

Unfortunately the Dalai Lama is not in town at the moment so my main reason of coming here and attending some of his teachings will not happen, but with mountain trails galore around these parts i will not be short of distractions.

Rishikesh was everything that I needed and more and kept me settled for three weeks, the longest i have stayed in one place for 7 months, quite a thought. It offered a combination of religious India, jungled mountains, bathing in the Ganga, tropical waterfalls and some much needed companionship from some of the best charachters I have met so far. The highlight being sleeping on a deserted beach on the Ganga for a few nights with a great bunch of people. After camping alone so often of late it was nice to share the outdoor experience with others.

The five days cycling from Rishikesh to here were uninspiring at best. Hot, busy roads combined with expensive hotels made it the least enjoyable of all the legs so far. The realisation that it will be the last time being alone gave me the feeling of concluding the first stage of my way home. I am delighted to be gaining a companion for the rest of the journey but it is also with some trepidation to see how my deeply embedded solitary ways will incorporate an extra personality. I believe there is only so much time a human being should spend alone being such sociable creatures and for the moment at least i have filled my quota.

Sitting here on my balcony looking west over the Punjabi plains soaked in early morning sunshine I realise this is my last stop on my himalayan voyage which has brought me 5300km from Kunming to here, which is really rather emotional. What lies in wait until northern Iran will be very flat, very hot, very cold, very dusty and very different. They say a change is as good as a break but I will enter the next stage of my trip with hesitation due to the political situation in Pakistan. That all seems a long time in the future as after passing a week here I will leave my bike here and venture forth to Delhi where I will meet my parents for a 10 day holiday in Rajasthan. Then after waving goodbye to them i will welcome Kieran and will begin the preperations for the middle east, most importantly to try and persuade the Irish embassy to allow me to go to Pakistan. What kind of world do we live in where my country decides where I can and cannot go.

The road to Badrinath.

Blending in flawlessly with the pilgrims.

7256metres high, how many Carantuhals can you fit in that?

there is no comas on this keyboard!

I have come to the conclusion that I am a gluton for punishment. Like most conclusions of this sort it did not hit me all at once but dawned on me gradually over the last 10 days. having so much time alone with my thoughts with only Rocanate to affer an opinion which although he is a very astute bicycle a bicycle he remains. conclusions are slow in coming if at all so it was with some relief that I concluded at least one in the past fortnight.

It was while I was returning to over 3000m and 7km away from the Tibetan border that this notion first announced itself to my cerebrium. The last 10 days contained a demoralising amount of descents and when you are ascending to 3400m from about sealevel it equates to a horrific amount of climbing . Even yesterday as the road followed a youthful Ganga down to Rishikesh (my current abode) Indian engineers deemed it fit to stick in a 20km climb. at km 70 of my 120km day I was needless to say unimpressed. As I was struggling through 10.20.30 and even 40km straight climbs over mostly diabolical roads while novilty airhorns were continually trying to make me deaf from the passing trucks for the first time an evil voice in the back of my mind spoke up "get a bus" it whispered maliciously. of course refusal was my reply but he persisted and it took all my bike-ho attitude to get me here without using a four wheeled beast. The resulting conclusion was easier to come across. I need a break!

But the last 10 days despite the almost relentless climbs. bad roads. heat and ear piercing horns have been glorious. A pilgramage route in India must be the gretest path to follow on a bicycle. I shared meals and conversations with babas who dotted the route with brilliant orange and recounted Kim-esque tales of their nomadic lives. On two occasions truck loads of sikhs pilgramiging from the Punjab hailed me over to enjoy a delicious roadside Thali prepared in their truck. to interrogate me in the blunt Indian manner ( by the end I was starting to believe that 24 is very old not to be married and went through a list in my head of possible wives!) and posing (always helmeted) for their latest in camera phone technology. It is hard to get used to see a fully garbed long bearded Sikh looking the same as his fore-fathers did remove a trendy nokia phone from his cotton folds. Being on a bicycle and struggling I believe promotes a better relationship with the pilgrims and not once did I have a babas tiffin box dangled my way in hope of a few ruppees contribution. they all just seemed to want to share.

The scenery as I hope the photos will somewhat portray was astounding and for the first time on my trip 7000m plus mountains were deshrouded of their clouded masks an revealled their full splendour to me. Badrinath. the furthest I reached was in easy hiking distance to the view of three such peaks. this coupled with the towns huge religios importance with hot springs flowing in to the white watered Ganga beside a splendidly colourful and ornate temple made it a great place to pass a few days and converse with pilgrims of all castes and heritage.

Rishikesh so far seems the perfect place for a weeks rest and with yoga couses a plenty. a weeks top up course maybe in order. If my feet get itchy in the next few days. rather then packing my bags as usual I may resort to just a good scratch.

The charming man from the internet cafe has just removed my camera usb form the computer and told me its not allowed so photos will be uploaded at a later time.

Nainintal is called the Switzerland of India, infact alot of places claim such a title with pride in these parts that surely Switzerland is the Himalayan India of Europe, hardly important but the atmosphere of thriving to be European to be found in these parts is starting to get to me. It truely is a beautiful place and resembles the Alpine slopes of the Portes du soliel so much I was starting to get a little nostalgic on my 35km climb up here from the sweltering plains, that was until a troop of monkeys sauntered across the road which promptly reminded me I am very much in India. The road up here was great and passed large Colonial mountain resort hotels which reminded me of Kiplings India when the Raj did as I have just done and escaped the horrible heat of the plains to a more civil climate.

The road from Pokara took me 9 days and just over 800km mostly in heat that a pasty Irish lad has no right to be doing anything but sitting in an air con bar sipping on a guinness, but one has to do what one has to do and it was very enjoyable to be riding flat well paved roads again through national parks and remote vilages. It also provided me with a few mini adventures, the above swollen river barred the way of modern transport, but there is no obstacle too big or gushing for my Rocanante, laughing off the protests of the stranded passengers I removed my socks and shoes and ventured forth, having done so so many times in Tibet, this though was the deepest yet with water flowing to my waist and a couple of times I nearly had to wave goodbye to my trusty steed as the current was a little stronger then expected, despite a signal from a pesky Nepali that there was a crocodile behind me and having seen alot at past bridge crossings I managed to make it without adding extra soilage to my bicycle shorts. This animal fright was not reserved to river crossings, an illegal night camping in the national park renowned for its large bengali tiger presence proved I am not as brave as I thought and the things that go bump in the night contrived to me not having a single wink of sleep and being nothing short of petrified for most of it, will not be doing that again in a hurry. The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful, visited the birthplace of buddha, met two Nepalese on the last pass in Nepal and ended up staying in their house for a couple of days and been invited to countless meals and houses, only accepting a few. Travelling alone does have its drawbacks but its advantages far outweigh these.

It really is great to be back in India and being on a bike gives it other dimensions, for one people think you are so crazy and poor they tend not to try to rip you off which is a welcome change. There are a few downsides aswell, deafness, I fear is just around the corner for me with the Indians love of the airhorn, the heat and dust has given me an eye infection and the meandering cow is an obstacle not to be taken lightly! After here I shall be going further North in to the Himalyas to the source of the Ganga with the rest of the pilgrims and then follow it down to Rishikesh where I hope to meet some friends.

Christianity has a long way to go to make a serious impact on the plains of Nepal.

Leaving the Himalyas in Nepal.

Hello to one and all from Pokara, really very little to report from the last three weeks and a meager 300km travelled. After waiting in Kathmandu for two weeks for adequate tyres to arrive for Rocanante sent specially from Bangkok my feet were as itchy as they can get to hit the road once more. Having been under a rigorous and some times brutal get fat plan in Kathmandu my energies were high and my lungs full to the brim with the comparitively large amount of oxygen at 1000m so it was with great spirits that I delved in to the Kathmandu traffic on a rainy Monday morning. Despite a few skin burning hours of sunshine which reminded me how nervous I am about how devishly hot the plains of India are going to be the rain followed me with a commendable taunascity so rarely seen in monsoon showers. It did little to dampen my mood as I followed an impeccably paved road through lush valley after lush valley with gushing rivers heavy with the monsoon cascading over every available rockface to accompany its brethren in the raging torrents racing towards the plains to add to the local's miseries.

I took my time on my way here taking a few side trips to Gorkar and Bondipor including a rather eventful camping beside bulging paddies which in retrospect was not the smartest idea but if you saw the view from my opened tent door you would understand the risk. So I arrived here a very damp boy and with a rather nasty dose of dysentry which in the last four days has destroyed what my 2 weeks of the costly get fat plan had achieved, serves me right for drinking well water during the monsoon, I might have to penney pinch in a more intelligent manner in the future.

There are many viable reasons for me to stay here in Pokara for an extended amount of time, the floods, the 40 degree heat in the plains at the moment and the vast amount of time I have to get to Delhi a mere 2000km away but I think the main reason is how much I love it here. Yoga every morning, followed by a swim in the lake (my first since Sydney), great cheap restaurants and an amazing family guest house tucked away at the agreeable price of a euro a night with some very interesting neighbors as only a place like Pokara can provide, viva las hippies! My plan at the moment is to pass another week here and then make my long awaited return to India and Varanasi, about 700km away.

I will finish with a quick ode to the Nepalese people. They are without doubt one of the most genuinely friendly people I have met on my travels to date with an unbelievable knowledge of the English language from large town to small complimented by manners that only close proximity to a commonwealth country can provide. Though never one to condone colonialism any institution which promotes the use of referring to me as "sir" by all and sundry has to have its good points, at last some bloody respect!

The longest descent in the world but also up there for the worst.

Monks boots Xigatse

After re-reading my last entry I feel I have given the Tibetans a rather unfair review so here to somewhat ammend my comments is a picture of me buried by kids a yak herders festival where we were treated as homoured guests.

Kathmandu

This particular computer will no allow me to upload any of my photos, I believe it is a personal affront as I have seen it do so before, rather than be discouraged by its flipant disregard to my readers visual pleasure I will carry on regardless and attempt to entertain you without any bright colour aids.

I arrived in Kathamndu about 5 days ago, a shadow of my former self. The unseasonal dryness which the himalayan gods offered me on my route to Lhasa was replaced by a persistant 10 day deluge, maybe a little exagerated but one must allow for poetic liscence, which left my spirits a little low and my need for civilised comforts at an all time high, which this city of plenty has duly catered for amply.

Despite having an amazing time in Tibet, by the end I was a very happy chappy to be leaving it, its idea of a fond fairwell are very different to my idea of polite goodbye, but then again it seemed fitting in a country that abides by no conventianal rules of courtesy. But courtesy has no place in such a harsh enviroment, the places where these people live and beat out an existance boggles the mind, children throwing rocks at me and pooing outside my tent seems more suited up there then if they were to invite me for afternoon tea, its nature versus nurture, both of which in Tibet would contrive to make any individual wild. I would hate to give off the impression that Tibetans are not nice people and inevitably the reaction you get from most is one of friendly inquisitiveness but they are like no other race of people I have met, there is a vacancy in there eyes and a coldness about there person that makes it very hard to engage in any sort of interaction. I have no idea if this is an historical trait of their race or a reaction to being ruled by the same regime which turned their most sacred temple in to a pig sty and exiled their spiritual leader. Despite trying to delve in to the subject on numerous occasions with both sides of the story, inane blankness was the usuall reply or if I am lucky a speal of chinese rhetoric, very entertaining, the propanganda machine, though losing some weight in the past decades is still in great use in china today.

The road from Lhasa to Kathamndu passes turquise salt lakes, lunar landscapes, plenty of 7000m + mountains and offers on five occassions spectacular views of Mt. Everest. I saw the lake but the rest I will just have to take other peoples words for it, glimpses of vast glaciers which herald the base of something huge are all I got to glimpse between the huge grey clouds which were constantly getting blown about by the prevailing southerly gale, which turned out to be my great nemesis of the last leg. A nemesis which brought me to tears on my last double pass in Tibet which were both horrifically exposed peaks of over 4900m, the horizontal hail battering my face was nothing compared to the foe who forced me to dismount and tackle the last kilometere by foot which still was no easy feat, much to my dismay this foe continued to blow for the next 140km, taking away any pleasure from the worlds biggest vertical descent which would of been hard to take anyway considering the quality of the road. A section of road to the Nepalese border was described in a guide book as "1600m vertical descent in 33km, you are going to fly", the particulars were correct and the flying part could well of come true aswell if I did not hastily redirect my bike in to a pile of sand instead of departing off the side of a cliff. The road was under construction which meant it was a bomb site, I had to sit and watch as they blew up a cliff over the road only for a piece the size of the road to depart from its perch crash in to the road and take the road with it down the side of the cliff, on two occasions i had to carry my bike over huge boulders with falling rocks narrowly missing my cranium, on a particular powerfull river crossing my front paniers took a bit too much pressure and toppled my bike, dunking me rather uncerimoniously in the river, the worst of it was the rapid erosion of my brake pads leaving me by the end virtually brakeless for the 200km to Kathmandu. what I optimistically proposed as taking me less then an hour to pass, this particular section of road took me a little less then 4 hours.

On the whole it was a very enjoyable leg of the voyage although I have only mentioned doom and gloom, it just makes a better read then another composition on the picturesque beauty of the Himalayas and how brilliant bicycle touring is, I believe I have mentioned that before. I will be in this city for another week while I wait for the lethargy of Indian Beaurocracy to sort out my visa and then it is to the west or maybe east or maybe south, who knows.

This was one of the most impressive roads to look at but one of the most disastrous roads to descend. White knuckles clenching the brakes the whole way over loose rocks and silty sand, if the speedometer read more then 20 you were happy and then suddenly petrified at the impending quarry you had to pass and the seemingly inevitable buckled wheel.........good photo though.

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.