A fortnight in the mighty Himalayas on a bicycle! Part V

Many moons ago, I knew nothing about cycling. For that matter even now I just about balance my bike and life! This story is about how I got into serious cycling after giving it up in my school days.

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And this wasn't hills, this was pure rugged windswept mountains. A cold desert. Looking up or down the mountain would send a chill down my spine. Logic said concentrate on the road and 'feel' safe. But the beauty of the mountains is mesmerising and it is difficult to take one's eyes off it.

Day 8

A week of continuous cycling later I was properly in the groove. The human body is a wonderful thing, what doesn't kill it makes it stronger! And though I experienced something resembling death every evening in the first week, I got conditioned to the mountains. This was the new normal!

Waking up in the mountains in the lap of a monastery is a wonderful thing. The simplicity is near spartan levels, yet one isn't uncomfortable. Hot food and water is the only luxury available.

As I was preparing to leave Tabo, I bumped into a Canadian couple travelling through Spiti in a rented car, the conversation started off something like this:

Me: Where are you guys from?
CC: We are from Canada.
Me: Where in Canada?
CC: Toronto
Me: Oh the capital of Punjab!

And just like that we sat down over breakfast and cracked jokes (mostly harmless) about the Punjabis!

My friend wanted to climb to the monastery of Dhankar, perched at the top of a cliff. I didn't! We went our separate ways deciding to meet in Kaza the next day.

I stopped for lunch at a dhaba, where the lady running the show was from Nepal. As she served me some more vegetarian fare, she promised me good food in Nepal. She told me that pork is available everywhere in that country. That was enough for me to make plans for Nepal!

In Kaza i found a cheap homestay which primarily catered to Israeli hippies. The walls were adorned with pictures of Bob Marley and weed! And even though I was the only person staying there at that point of time, the smell of weed hung low in the air. There were books in Hebrew, but not in English or Hindi. The only desktop there had a hebrew keyboard, a strange feeling of being a foreigner in your own country! Nonetheless, the owner was a friendly if eccentric young man and gave me a lot of information about the place, which I won't repeat here, because most of it I didn't believe!

After a week, I got the opportunity to access the internet. Which was a disappointment, the real world is more interesting than the virtual world. Also using the internet there was pretty darn expensive.

In the restaurant where I had dinner, the menu had chicken in it. On enquiring about the availability of meat, I was informed that the chicken van hadn't paid its weekly visit and there would be no chance of getting meat for another week. Atleast!

The spartan accommodation at the monastery

A stupa

Rush hour traffic

Solitude

After a few days it feels like home!

Another round of spot the cyclist!

Wherever the road takes me...

The Spiti River

The entrance gate to the town of Kaza

Day 9

And on the 9th day @twowheeledmonkey had finished the cycling he had been doing, so on that day he rested from all his cycling!

Since it was a day of rest from riding, I skipped breakfast and went riding! Well, cyclists do love to ride.

The day was spent wandering around the town of Kaza. A small town by any standards, but the biggest in this corner of the world. If there is anything you need, it will be available in Kaza, if not Kaza, then it will not be available anywhere!

I went to a secluded mountain stream with ice cold water flowing at a gentle pace. I washed out my bike and myself and sat in the sun, doing absolutely nothing. Contemplating the many mysteries of life. There is a certain joy to doing nothing, which is amply experienced in the lap of a mountain!

With the sun turning orange, I pedalled back towards Kaza which was a few kilometres away. There I met Ivan the Irishman. The English couple from a few days back had told me about Ivan the Irishman who was cycling in the same direction as me. Finally we met and the conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey, are you Ivan the Irishman?
Ivan the Irishman: Yes, that's me. But how do you know my name?
Me: I met the English couple, they told me about you. Where are you staying?
Ivan the Irishman: Kaza
Me: I thought they were pulling my leg. It should have either been Ivan the Russian or Ryan the Irishman. How did you end up being Ivan the Irishman?
Ivan the Irishman: Err. Well, umm, my mother loved the name Ivan. I think the name is from one of her first boyfriends...

I then went ahead and like a pesky kid inspected his bike and gear. He good naturedly indulged my curiosity and answered the plethora of questions with which I bombed him! It was after all the very first time in my life that I was seeing a fully kitted out touring bike.

I fell in love with the Brooks saddle and the Rohloff hub.

Once back in Kaza, I met up with my Indian cycling friend, who had made it there after his detour to Dhankar.

The evening was spent on the back of a 30 year old Royal Enfield being ridden by James, a Frenchman. He was shooting videos and photos for a project called, 'movement in motion', where he wanted to teach his students about the art of photography and videography. He had been visiting India for the past 20 years and he loved his motorcycle. Which honestly vibrated more than a vibrator! But it was fantastic to watch a professional doing his business and I was happy to tag along and glad that he allowed me to take a ride on his bike.

The day of rest came to an end with a splendid sunset and more vegetarian food for dinner...

TLC for the bike