A fortnight in the mighty Himalayas on a bicycle!

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 having given it up in my school days.

This is where I will eventually get, after a lot of hard work!

It all started off a year prior, with a motorcycle trip. My brothers and I decided that a motorcycle trip to the mountains would be a perfect opportunity for family bonding. In the midst of that trip, we met a 60 year old French cyclist who was riding solo through the Indian mountains. When we met up with him, he was smoking a bidi (traditional Indian cigarette with the tobacco rolled in a leaf), not a care in the world and enjoying the mountains in a manner that was not possible on a motorcycle. If that wasn't cool enough, the super cool old codger says that the next year he planned to return with his girlfriend! At 20 I was struggling to get a girl to say yes and this sexagenarian had one waiting for him at home. That was the moment when lighting struck inside my dense skull and I decided to go cycling and have a girlfriend at 60. I succeeded at the former, while the latter is still a work in progress!

Fast forward a year and with loads of enthusiasm and little preparation, the day arrived when it was time for me to start climbing the mountains. These were not some piddly little hills you find in other countries, these were the mighty and majestic Himalayas. Gorgeous and frightening in equal measure.

The distance of the plains was covered in a locomotive and this ride would make me 'el loco diablo'! The train journey was spent with my heart in my mouth as I was unsure how safe my bike was in the luggage coach. There were tears of joy when I finally got my bike back safe, soon to be changed to tears of pain.

Train journeys are always fun, you meet the most amusing characters. On this journey, a soldier of the Indian army returning home on leave, was my neighbour. He regaled our fellow travellers with stories from the India-Burma border, where he had been stationed. The audience waited with bated breath, eager to hear of his brave exploits at fighting militants. The only exploits that this soldier had been up to, was of the adulterous nature!

It was finally time to put my money where my mouth was, or more accurately, my legs where my dreams were. I huffed and puffed, the legs feeling the pain, my eyes watering, my heart and soul questioning the ride and then I saw the milestone. I had ridden only 1 kilometre and had 90 more to go. Climbing a mountain was far more difficult than I had imagined, a different kettle of fish when compared to riding in the flat lands.

The only picture I clicked on the first wet and depressing day. My photography skills at that point sucked monkey balls, as is apparent. See how cleverly I parked my cycle and merged it into a tree!

Constant pain in the legs, a throbbing heart and lungs gasping for air became the new normal. At snail pace I inched my way to the top. Some 20 km before the first night's halt, I got off my bike and lay down on the side of the road, physically and mentally drained. As I enjoyed my 15 minutes of siesta, a car came to a screeching halt. Out came three drunk thug looking guys. The conversation went something like this (translated of course)...

Boss Thug: So, where are you cycling? And why are you sleeping on the road?
Lil Ol' Me: I started from Kalka this morning, headed to Shimla for the night
Boss Thug: Ha! We started from Kalka in our car this morning as well. But we have been drinking and partying!
Lil Ol' Me: So your car is slower than my cycle?
Boss Thug: Pffft...rubbish. Why are you doing this foreigner thing, riding a cycle. Be like us, drink, smoke, party and drive
Lil Ol' Me: Okay, can I go now
Boss Thug: Sure, but I want to ride your cycle first!

...and then the he lived the 'thug life on a cycle' for 100 metres as he descended, careening wildly through traffic. Fortunately he lived to tell the tale and I got my bike back. Which at the time, didn't really appear to be a very good thing. I was hoping that bike and thug would go off the cliff and I could catch a bus home. Get rid of both those evil things in one shot!

Bike back in hand, I struggled up the mountain to my destination for the night, Shimla. The last couple of kilometres I did the walk of shame, as I went hotel hopping, looking for the sleaziest, grimiest and most affordable accommodation that my sparse budget allowed!

This was the first day of my fortnight long bicycle ride. Would you like to read more?