There’s a nipple on your forehead.  It’s swollen and ready to burst. You’ve tried creams, ointments and deep-sea salt scrub and nothing’s shifting this whopper.  You’re not surprised that people keep staring but it doesn’t make its existence any more bearable. This, my friends is how it feels to be a cycle tourist. Conspicuity is firmly left on the shelf. From the moment we left London, across the highs and lows of Europe and now in the bosom of the Himalayas, you stand out like a sore nipple on the forehead and everyone wants a suckle!  As always, we live, learn, adapt….and accept our chosen life as it comes. Though we may reach our threshold the next time someone asks for a photo opportunity half way up a mountain!

Our pit stop in Manali started in Vashisht, a small town north on the way down the valley.  We’d been tipped off about its hot springs and our muscles sang with ecstasy whilst wallowing away the sores of a months bombastic cycling.  As we left on in the last post, civilisation was a bit of a bump. But we were soon back in the swing with meat on the menu and the nuclear local cider pumping is golden bubbly loveliness through our veins.

From Vashisht we moved down to Manali town.  A place that caters for all the delights of the flesh as well as our camping and bike repair needs.  We mended my puncture, stocked up on cooking gas and even managed to Skype some family. Wifi in the mountains is more illusive than a hippo in Hereford. 

Our hotel had wonderfully booked a Techno DJ for our last night, slightly at odds with the candlelight family dinners and our desire for some shut-eye. Thus meaning we woke on the back foot the following morning.  We opted for a bus on the return journey up the 50km, 3000m climb to the Rohtang pass.  4 hours to go 50km and we were dropped off in the middle of a quintessential Indian scrum.  Most Indians have never seen snow, so when the holiday season kicks off in Manali they take day trips to the top of the Rohtang pass to get snaps of themselves glad in 80’s onesie ski suits, v signs up amid the decaying fields of white.  Where there’s people in India, there’s traffic jams and we hoped off the bus early, parted the putting pollutant clouds and made our way back down to join the Bhagar Valley we’d left a week prior.

Rhotang Pass Madness….c/o google images 😉

A handsome tail wind whipped us along and as the Manali Leh highway is only open for 3-4 months of every year, the traffic accompanying us on our journey North stepped up too.  Our first day peddle took us to the last permanently inhabited town on our route, Keylong, and the chance to stock up the larder.  Beyond Keylong the road rises up to take in some of the highest motor-able passes in the world. The isolation means that most structures and Dhabas (local eateries) are temporarily erected for the cyclists, Royal Enfield riders and tourists that pass through.

The Manali Leh highway en graph

Full flavour traffic at times on the Manali Leh highway

We consequently left Keylong 6-7kg heavier.  As mentioned before food really does become your focus on a trip like this.  First of all there’s getting enough carbs in you to keep your body moving and then comes the alluring danger of ‘food fantasies’. We all crave home comforts when away, be it a Tetleys/Barrys teabag, a sunday roast or a glass of good wine.  But believe us when we say, a year of cycling in foreign lands and we could well give away one of our siblings for a juicy steak and glass of vino tinto!  Being coeliac also has it’s challenges, however we recently discovered chick pea flour, Besen. Mix this wonder with an equal measure of water and you have the most incredible protein packed pancake batter.  Campsite breakfasts have thus been face-lifted to new heights 🙂

We were back in the saddle and climbing again. With a menu of wild camping, river washing and one ring burner delicacies ahead, happy faces were on. Rising beyond 4000m our friend the altitude kicked in and we stopped for a nights rest and acclimatisation in Zing Zing Bar, a half horse town.  The lungs were raring to go the following morning and the remaining climb to 4900m was made all the easier. A stunning snow scape awaited and another beguiling face of Madam Himalaya 🙂

Mountain reflections

Chilly Peaks

Unfortunately this leg of the journey has seen various parts on my bike give up the ghost.  From Manali my chain had worn such that it had to be oiled twice a day and still it made a grinding sound akin to fingernails on a chalk board.  From Zing Zing Bar, my saddle also threw in the towel with the bolt breaking on the underside, meaning the leather seat was folding over to the left.  My stomach (not one to miss out) got in for the ride and there was a Delhi Belly accompaniment/rumble after every meal 😦  Cycling at around 4500m+ altitude is one of the most psychically demanding things we’ve both done, team that with the aforementioned problems and a growing blister on my bum, things were getting ‘back-of-the-net’ tough as we pushed onto Sarchu and a planned day off.

The slow 30km descent to Sarchu was magic.  A flat-bottomed valley greeted us off the first pass and a monstrous tailwind held our backs firm.  As our path ahead opened a river cut down into the sediment and was joined by an ominous storm swelling on the horizon.  There are certain points in the Himalayas were mountains meet and weather systems collide.  Things can change in a second and at the end of this valley with the higher peaks to come the clouds were building.

Flat bottomed loveliness/valleys on the way to Sarchu

The storm to come

As the downpour began, we huddled in a Dhaba in the make shift town of Sarchu.  Upon the clouds clearing we headed off-road for 1km, with still enough food from our re-stock in Keylong, to take our rest day in the tent.  We pitched at the fork of two rivers, took our birthday suited washes in the glacial mountain stream and bedded down for a peaceful nights kip.  The following day was spent in wonder as we witnessed the weather system we’d seen the day before build from a sunny rainbow clad morning to a dark gloomy afternoon and a tempestuous evening.  It was heaven to get reacquainted with our familiar tarpaulin home and we took to the road again feeling refreshed.

Brians’ birthday suited wash

(extra) wild camping

Himalayan heaven

Todays climb was a double serving of two passes the second taking us for the first time beyond the 5000m mark.  The previous day I’d decided to start a course of antibiotics to combat the tummy backflips, however they seemed to trim my power a la Goliath.  The climbs were a struggle.  By the time we’d reach the Dhabas in the dip between the peaks, I was beat.  Our cupboards were bear so after a dhal and rice roadside re-fuel we decided to tackle the last pass of the day.

We pushed, panted and peddled our way up.  The frustration of Enfield riders chugging past as you gasp for each breath and step is tough and as we summited the chilly pass it was gloves and down jackets on for the decent.  Unlike the horrendous going in Spitti valley this was the first section of really bad road we’d faced.  Deep sand teamed with landslide rocks and rubble had me tumble twice, the first of which encompassed a head-butt of a by-standing minivan wing mirror.  By now I was starting to feel little bit sorry for myself and just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, my back tyre exploded and ripped apart.  Our tyres come in at £50 a pop so it seems 5 months in the Himalayas is their breaking point. Though that isn’t to say there wasn’t the obligatory cursing of the manufacturer and landslide roads!

We cut a picture of two sad boys and bikes as we stuck out our thumbs to hitch a lift.  As cycle angels do, there came a man in a van who took us the remaining third of the way, approximately 150km, to Leh.  A nod of thanks from this route as we trundled on was the sight of a pack of Himalayan wolves on the Moray Plains.  This vision will absolutely keep our fires burning to come back and complete this route again someday.

A magical and tough time on the Manali Leh road

The last fortnight we’ve spent day touring and resting in Leh till the arrival of Shruti & Becky + new equipment and treats from home.  The weather has been wet and landslides have kept both the Manali-Leh and Leh-Srinigar roads opening and closing like a nymphomaniacs legs.  Power has been intermittent at best and we’ve managed to grab nibbles of wifi here and there.  As always, you are at the mercy of Mother Nature.  The Buddhist mantra of accepting this bigger picture and letting it all flow is a wonderful energy to have around 🙂

Who knows whether we’ll get to Srinigar once the London Ladies leave. We’ll be keeping our fingers crossed for our final fortnight of wonderment in these mountains that have now become familiar friends.

Hoping all is well is everyones worlds 🙂

Tommy & Brian

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