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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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!

Day 10

My Indian cycling friend wanted to go climb another mountain and thus we split ways again. He went up a mountain, I went down the road homeward bound.

There is one rule while cycling in the mountains, leave as early in the morning as humanly possible. By afternoon the wind picks up and pedal power is no match for the fury of the wind. In an attempt to get breakfast before the ride, I waited longer than necessary in Kaza and started a couple of hours later than planned. I was in for a whipping from the wind!

The initial road leaving from Kaza was arrow straight and reasonably flat, the few cars and bikes on the road flew past me at triple digit speeds. I too was doing triple digit speeds on my bicycle. 007 kmph! Ha.

But it did remind me that the bicycle is the most desirable manner in which one can see the world. The cycle is moving so painfully slow, that you are forced to sit up and admire the scenery. In an automobile of any sort, you are going past so fast, that you do not see the many majestic scenes. All that you see is one big blur!

By late noon, the wind picked up mightily and even on relatively flat stretches of road, I had to get off my bike and push!

The day ended at a checkpost village of Losar, not to be confused with loser, which I felt like after having pushed my bike for serious distances!

The road is extremely treacherous beyond this till one reaches the mountain city of Manali. So the policemen on duty there, take down the details of anyone passing this road to ensure that they reach the other end of the road in the expected amount of time. Else a man/vehicle hunt begins!

Discretion is the better part of valour truly applies here!
The village of Losar had one eating joint and the cook was from a mountain town of Darjeeling, which is in a very different part of the country. It would take him 4 days of travel to reach home from work! And all that much effort for employment which lasted 5-6 months. It is absurd the lengths one must go to, to find a job!

Fortunately he was a good cook and rustled up some sunny side up eggs. Oh it was a feast fit for a king! Or at the very least it felt that way to an exhausted cyclist!

The arrow straight roads on which vehicles flew past me

167 km from Manali, where my trip was to end

A mistake won't be a whole lot of fun!

A road under construction then which would be an epic route to get to the Ladakh region, if they allow civilians on it!

The tiny village of Losar with 227 citizens

A scene from the village

The entrance gate to Spiti/ Losar when you are coming from the opposite side, from Manali. An exit gate for me.

Green trees. Barren mountains. Snow covered peaks. Sky!

Day 11

My Indian cycling buddy had told me that he will catch up with me in Losar. As such I waited an extra day in the small village, which was a good decision, since it gave my aching legs some time to recover.

I sat alongside the checkpost charlies and soon enough, along came Ivan the Irishman. He was moving on for the day and after a quick chat about road conditions, he left.

Soon after he left, 4 Israeli motorcyclists chugged in to stay the night. A couple of them spoke English and time flew as we sat around yapping away to glory. The two policemen on duty there were happy to have me for company as I was the unofficial interpreter for them that day! I was happy to spend time there, as it gave a fantastic insight into the lives of our uniformed serviceman, whom we often take for granted.

By early evening, Prakash landed up in camp. Unfortunately not on his own power, but in the back of a truck! The rim of his bike had split open and that was the end of the trip for him!

He always allowed anyone who wanted (especially kids) to ride his bike. I never did. Eventually it was some kids who banged up his bike beyond repair!

Post sunset, the cops and I lit up a bonfire for dinner and drinks. As we were getting the fire going, 5 young motorcyclists rode in. They were pushing their luck by riding after dark. But then the joy of being hot blooded young men!

Dinner at the dhaba was somewhat like a feast with a bonfire at the end of every Asterix comics!

A rest day means rest for the camera as well. Zero photograph day!

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If you like Bike Travel tales:

Cycling in the mighty Himalayas

Cycling in the mighty Himalayas Part II

Cycling in the mighty Himalayas Part III

Cycling in the mighty Himalayas Part IV

Cycling in the mighty Himalayas Part V

You can read my previous travel tales from Goa below:

Life is a beach

Chorao Island in the rain

Goa on a Bike Part Deux

Goa on a Bike Part Drei

You can read my experience of bicycle racing below:

Shooting at a Cycle MTB Race!

Road race in Delhi: The ATH KMP 100

Racing on India's first bicycle highway

My first hill climb race