After a few months of house hunting, buying and fixing we have now started taking bookings for Bed and Breakfast, cycle guiding and cycle lessons. If anyone is visiting Glentress or Innerleithen we have one double or twin ensuite room and one double room with a shared bathroom. Whilst we are geared up for cyclists, with a workshop, bike store and bike wash we also cater for walkers, anglers and anyone else visiting this fantastic part of the Scottish Borders. More details are on our propper website www.bordercycling.co.uk have a look for all our B&B rates. If you would like to ask us about SMBLA approved guiding or National Standard training please contact us through our website.

Chitwan for New Year and Our return
  After all the lazy days over Christmas we decided to cycle out of the Kathmandu valley and down to the Terai, the flat lowland plains that border India. After the chaos of cycling away from the city we dropped down to the junction town Naubise and headed up a winding tarmac road to the hilltop town of Daman. From Daman we had fantastic views across to the Himalayas where we were able to see about 8 of the 10 highest mountains in the world. Our accommodation in Daman was basic and we had had to fashion a shutter for the open window from old cardboard and bags, cutting out both our spectacular views and the biting mountain wind. We ate a simple but tasty meal of Dahl Bhat washed down with hot water.
The following morning after 3 miles of climbing the road just dropped straight down to the Terai, another massive descent of 2000m in just 40 km! A Swiss engineered cable car loomed above us, the complex of cables used to ferry stone and building materials towards Kathmandu, the bottom of the valley was lined with Hindu temples and passing Sadhus.
Welcome to the Motel Avocado, sung to the tune of Eagles similarly named classic, popped into Jane's head as we neared the Motel Avocado on the outskirts of Hetauda. In the avocado tree lined compounds of the motel we met a fellow cyclist, 'J' from Turkey, on his way into Nepal. Our room was next to the massive hutch that contained rabbits, guinea pigs, ducks and an owl who we christened Mr Spatula (on account of his sticky out wing) so Chris was happy. Before bed we took an outing to explore town and buy some fruit and pakoda. The town was a bustling hive of activity especially around the many road side stalls and the market.
The next day we retraced our route into town. Our guide book had advised us to turn right at the statue of the King, unfortunately His Majesty was absent, possibly, because of strong Maoist sympathies in this part of the country. So, we turned right at an empty concrete plinth and headed west towards Chitwan National park. We managed to get a pretty good speed along the gently rolling road and we picked up a few local cyclists keen to show off their speed but dropped them quickly. Maybe the altitude training had paid off or perhaps the fact that their sit up and beg bikes weighed a ton (even with parts missing) had hindered them a smidge. We were able to cycle in T-shirts past villages cobbled together from twigs and straw and larger concrete towns to Tadi Bazaar where a badly kept track took us to south to Sauraha and the park entrance.
Passing trudging elephants carrying tourists on their way into town we were confronted with a vast choice of hotels and lodges. We opted for a nice family guest house as they had the word 'friendly' on their sign and accommodation was in pretty little huts with bamboo blinds and grass covered seating areas out front. The grounds had banana, papaya and avocado trees as well as a tiny cat we called Shimi, so once again Chris was happy.
Next day was New Years Eve. To celebrate we got up very early and waited for our guide to get up - Nepali timing! Eventually we all climbed aboard a wooden dug out canoe and paddled down the river Rapti which borders the park. The early morning mists gave an eerie feel to the journey like something Joseph Conrad would love to write about. We saw a few water foul, egrets, kingfishers and huge peacocks in the tops of the jungle canopy. After an hour, we paddled ashore by a little sandy beach where a dozen or so red monkeys were having breakfast. It was hard to keep a straight face as our guide ran us through the procedure for being chased by a rhino (climb up a big tree if there is one handy or run in a zigzag if on the open plain), sloth bear (don't climb a tree, stand together and look BIG) and tiger (don't look it in the eye and walk slowly backwards). No mention of crocodiles which, apart from monkeys, were the first animals we came across. Fortunately, they were sleepy crocs and not in the mood to eat us. We also saw hornbills and great hornbills (birds so big they sound like helicopters when they take off) and langur monkeys which danced and peed in the trees above us as we walked back to the river where we crossed by another dug out.
After a spot of lunch we were picked up in a jeep and taken to the communinty woodland, an area of jungle owned by the locals. At the woodland entrance we climbed aboard elephants, four of us perched on one howdah (wooden platform type saddle - wonky in our case). A convoy of four elephants set of into the Jungle where we brushed through the foliage, crossed rivers and climbed down steep embankments. The elephants were surprisingly quiet unlike the group of Indain men on the beast infront of us who only seemed to shut up when they puffed on their cigarettes. Thankfully we split up and quickly started spotting wildlife. We cornered a pair of wild rhino who seemed unphased by the elephants approach, we saw a stag the size of a bus, two types of crocodiles and then a small herd of rhino with a very cute baby rhino in tow. The ride was quickly over and we walked back into town feeling quite smug about all the rare animals we had seen.
A New Year food festival had been noisily going on for days and we decided it was time to give it whirl. We sat and watched the sunset with a beer and a bowl of pakoda whilst the live music kicked off behind us. Food was amazingly cheap and tasty with all the towns chefs involved. The music was loud and energetic, a local star gave her rendition of a song we had been hearing for days before a medley of artists sung us 'Welcome Welcome Welcome, Welcome to Nepal' a repetitive little ditty that was surprisingly catchy if not a little anoying in a Eurovision type of way. A busy day and plenty of god food had us sleepy by 9.00 and though we managed to stay awake a little longer, we were done by 10.00. We awoke to see in the New Year but dozed off again after the fireworks.
As our departure was fast approaching, we took the bus back to Kathmandu. After a frenzied attempt to pack below our airlines weight allowance of 60kg, we chilled out around Kathmandu before checking our exact 60kg bags and bikes in at the departures desk. We were ushered to the front of a huge queue and later offered a free upgrade to business class where unfortunately there was only one seat on offer but our patience was then rewarded when on the leg of the journey from the Gulf to the U.K we were both upgraded. Sitting in our fully adjustable pods, sipping champagne from stemmed glasses we waited for take off on the very last part of our journey.

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Having woken at 5.45am we caught a taxi to Kathmandu's grandly named "New Bus Park", not so much a park ...   more »

Nepal

As we approached the border the single track dirt road was lined with parked trucks and vehicles. Other vehicles tried to squeeze through the remaining spaces causing chaos. The uneven surface of the road tipped one lorry so far to the side it ended up resting on the roof of a landcruiser. Gridlock!
A little further through the queue, next to road side market stalls, a small green taxi was pushing in between two parked lorries. It succeeded but then had to stop on a hill, it's handbrake wasn't up to the task and the small car rolled back into one of the lorries, crushing an inappropriate sporty spoiler and it's rear lights.
Fearing the possibility of being crushed we detoured through the market stalls, stepping over blankets laden with cheap Chinese products and sports socks. The queue continued over the Friendship bridge to one last Chinese Checkpoint and on to the Nepali border. Amidst the bustle it is easy to miss the border checks and we have met people who have cycled straight through into Nepal unchallenged.
The visa office is just inside Nepal and is one of the few buildings not built in the local "shack" vernacular. We paid $30 and carried on downhill, for some considerable distance the chaos continued amogst seemingly makeshift buildings, temples and of course the lush green gorge.
 
We descended along the Sun Kosi past very attractive villages, more palm trees, a bungee jumping resort as the temperature just kept rising. It was unusual for us to see people washing in rivers and we quickly tired of having to say "Hello" to the growing numbers of pedestrians and people working by the side of the road.
The first major town we came to was Barabise, the administrative capital of the area - More Chaos!
Here busses just stopped where they pleased, mostly next to the little tented fast food stalls lining the bridge, a seemingly common road manoeuvre.
The road started to climb from Dolaghat where locals had been bussed out from Kathmandu to enjoy the river beaches. The climb then continued for 10km before starting a very steep rise over the next 17km. Parts of the climb were painfully steep as we climbed from just 600m to 1500m and the rim of the Kathmandu valley. Cycling in the heat was a new thing for us, sweating was a novelty and we broke our journey for a fizzy drink. We had no idea how much a  coke could cost but it turned out we had change from 20 pence! The climb wasn't the biggest of the trip but the heat and some very steep sections took their toll and meant that with 30km to go we had only over an hour of daylight left.
We made it to Kathmandu's manic traffic at dusk. We weaved in and out of cars, past blockages and crashes all the way to the area of Thamel. Upon entering the tourist ghetto we were shocked by seeing so many white faces, one of which asked where we had come from - in English! By chance we had bumped into Miriam from Holland who had cycled with Ben and Mandy for a while in Tibet. Funny how small the World becomes when you are a cyclist.

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The Long Drop

 

The road fell away dropping us several hundred meters over about 10km but when we reached the first of the villages the valley had flattened out and the corrugations and the wind began. Realising that the next town, Nylam, was too far to reach gave us our last opportunity to camp. So, we set up the tent next to a tiny stream that becomes the Sun Kosi (one of Nepal's main rivers) which we would be following all the way down the valley.

It took a long time for the sun to reach us in the morning but knowing that it was the last cold camping start made it bearable and eventually we were packed and off.
We rolled down the valley initially but started to doubt the fact that this was the longest downhill when we approached the first rise. Several ups followed at which point we really questioned the criteria for 'longest downhill'. With the strong thermal wind rushing up the valley to further aggravate us we were feeling quite cheated by the time we got to Nylam, another 40kms from the border. Our mood wasn't improved as children hassled us for money, we rode through and when even lunch was a small portion for a large price.
Nylam actually translates to 'Gateway to Hell' and really had the feel of a communist block border town. However, it had one redeeming feature  - the road out of it! The badly made, unsurfaced road plummets you from 3750m to 2300m over the next 30km and even continues to drop way past the border. Initially it drops you to what looks like the gorge bottom, past rocky overhangs and past landslides from where you realise the road just keeps dropping.
 
After scree and waterfalls with mossy cliff faces the greenery begins and we suddenly realised we were in the early stages of a vast lush gorge. The smell of the plants and water was like walking into a tropical hot house or surfacing from a pothole.
The  road clung to the sides of the gorge with the river coursing several hundred meters below. Our campsite was 1000m straight up above our heads and our next stop was 1000m beneath us. Needless to say, it was an amazing road and an incredibly fun ride though not without hazards.

At points the Chinese were preparing sections of the road for improvement and we realised why there had been so little traffic as we reached a landslide. A digger was working to clear the boulders as trucks and land cruiser drivers waited patiently. We, on the other hand, hoisted our bikes through the mud and rocks  (with a little help from a bystander in his slip on shoes) and smugly continued onwards.
The trail was gloriously technical with rocks, drops and mud but we didn't slow down despite our laden bikes. We passed a massive new construction site where a new suspension bridge was being built. The Chinese hadn't placed any warning signs on our section of road and we headed straight towards massive steel cables being stretched across our path. We stopped well before we lost our heads, despite the confusion caused by construction workers shouting, presumably warning us - we were so used to people shouting encouragement it took a while to work it out!
The fab road just kept getting greener and wetter as we descended further. We had to stop again as we reached a little girl with a pink warning flag. We braked, smiled and waited as she ran off into a tunnel where hidden machines were noisily working. She returned and after 5 minutes we were allowed to continue through. The insides of the tunnel were being given a thick coat of concrete to stop the rocks crumbling and falling. The concreting continued intermittently with huge sections of dangerous rocks being sanitised above us.
At times the trail ran so close to the edge of the gorge that we could catch spectacular glimpses of the water charging through the rocks below us, the drop was so massive that the raging water could only just be made out. When we stopped to look upwards our starting point was so far above us it had become invisible, lost in the sky. Part of the road passes through an old ramshackle construction, built to channel a waterfall over passing vehicles. Looking like part of a derelict mine workings, the construction let as much water through as over and we splashed through much to the amusement of several passing road workers. A short section of road brought us to Zhangmu, the Tibetan border. Zhangmu is built into the side of the gorge on a series of switchbacks that last several km. Trucks and vehicles line the narrow paved road waiting for goods or border clearance. There are now shortage of bars, restaurants and hotels. The border checkpoint complete with immigration and customs is by a large set of gates at the foot of town. We chose a hotel as close to the border as possible for an early start in the morning. We arranged for breakfast to be served in the hotel at 8.30, when nobody turned up we interrupted a Chinese family across the road, busy setting up their restaurant for the day. After fried rice we waited at the border, Tibetans busily trying to work out what all the bits of our bike did. At 10 the border was opened, we were allowed through first and passed through Chinese immigration control and walked straight past all the customs posts and X-Ray machines, it appeared as is the official was busy somewhere else and we just sauntered through. There was 8km of no-mans-land  and switchbacks before the Nepali border. Parrot and monkey noises filled the air and we could see little terraced fields and Nepali villages on the other side of the steep valley. The border with the Friendship bridge looked like madness below us.
 
As some of the last people to cycle the road down to Nepal before tarmac we felt incredibly privileged, it would have been nice to try the route with no bags but we probably would have gone over the edge! The rocks, drops and mud got the adrenaline pumping, the sights, smells and taste of the gorge had a similar effect on the other senses. This had to be the perfect way to cycle out of Tibet.

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The Last Passes

The ride from Shegar to Tingri was uneventful and even the checkpoint was a doddle despite our travel permits being out of date. As we passed the Everest Base Camp turn off, we couldn't quite feel bad for not going - knowing that the temperature up there would be absolutely freezing and anyway, when we got to Tingri we were more than satisfied with the fabulous views of Everest and the north face of Cho Oyo which we saw from a peculiar viewpoint the Chinese have built on a hill beside the town. The hill had already got a picturesque, ruined, orange-walled  fort perched on top but unfortunately, the Chinese have built around it putting a maze of granite walls topped with a squared off banana of polished granite with a park logo and some Chinese writing - completely out of place. There was also a map which we think showed China, Tibet and the Southern border but the location of Everest and Cho Oyu were in the wrong location and the plaques were missing - better get that sorted before the 2008 Olympics!

As we were leaving Tingri the next morning we bumped into Benny and Mandy, two fellow cyclists from Germany who we'd originally met in Kashgar. They had been stuck there waiting for a part for their tandem and had eventually left Kashgar a couple of weeks after us, following a similar route through Tibet. It was great to exchange stories of the trips and swap information about other cyclists we all knew. This pleasantly delayed our departure but unfortunately allowed us to catch the afternoon headwind!
We knew there was a guesthouse 60km from Tingri so chose that over camping. As we reached the village were hailed from the side of the road by the staff of 'The Ritz' - a pound a bed establishment. Actually we had three beds, one each for us and one for the bikes (they didn't have to pay) in a mud brick room which though completely freezing when we went to bed warmed up quite nicely over night. The family were very friendly as were the local drinkers, continually topping up our green tea with hot water and taking great interest in our books, diaries and map. There was great excitement over the used tickets we had for various monasteries we'd visited though a fight nearly broke out once we'd said one lady could keep one as everyone wanted one including the men - and we only had three! We were amazed at how such simple a thing could cause such delight especially to the first lady we gave a ticket to and it made us feel a bit guilty that we'd just binned the second tickets without a thought apart from carrying less weight.

The next day we left the Ritz fuelled up with a delicious noodle and fried egg breakfast and set off for the two final 5000m passes, the La Lung (5124m) and the Tong La (5120m). After a fair bit of climbing we were rewarded by spectacular views of the Himalayas from Shishpagna and Lang tang all the way round towards the Solu Khumbu before we dropped off the Tibetan Plateau and began what is reportedly the world's longest descent.
 

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Trouble With Wind

 

The ride from Shigatse took 2 days with a picturesque campsite next to a river at just over the half way point.
 
The second day was uphill for half the day to the top of another pass where we expected an easy ride downhill to Lhatse. As we started the downhill we could see twisters and dust storms sweeping across the valley below us. We couldn't see the headwind but as we hit it we could tell it was around a constant 40kph against us and when the first of the dust storms smashed into us we could do nothing but stop, close our eyes, turn away from it and brace ourselves against the bikes. This battering continued intermittently until we reached Lhatse where we were welcomed back below swaying trees at the Tibet Farmers Hotel.
 
More 'wind' through the night and the following day, accompanied by many rushed toilet visits by Chris, resulted in an unplanned rest day !
The day after we pressed on with one empty tummy and a pair of weak legs. We set off for a 1200m climb to the top of the Gyatso La (5220m). Chris, running on empty, ran out of energy or "bonked" as us cyclists say 10km before the top. The headwind that day wasn't helping either. As we had plenty of daylight and a few sweets he struggled on towards the top. Around 5km from the pass we were both forced off the bikes by what was now a gale force headwind. At over 5000m you have around a third less oxygen in your blood and with strong winds and ambient temperatures well below freezing the wind chill will give any exposed flesh frost bite within 30 minutes. We pushed on hoping for some calm on the other side of the mountain but the storm increased as we crested the top and passed below the roaring noise of prayer flags, the wind ripping straight through them. We remounted our bikes and tried to pedal into the wind, a side wind would have had us off in a second. With the bikes in gears your Granny would use we set of down the steep slope. It took 30 mins of frantic pedalling to travel 4km and to drop the 200m to a Doaban, a road repair building.
 
Shivering and with blue bits where blue bits shouldn't be we tried in our best, slurred, Chinese/Tibetan/English to explain our predicament to a family ensconced in a glass fronted porch within the compound. If pictures say more than words then we must have looked a picture as we were shown into a similar glass fronted porch, in what sun there was, and young child brought us a flask of piping hot water.
The young girl, who was about 5 and didn't have much else to play with, thought we were great especially when Chris tried to keep her occupied by making bicycles from old wire off the floor. After about 3 hours and as dark approached we moved into the young girls house where her mother and neighbour had started up a roaring stove. We all huddled around as more water was boiled to constantly refill our cups. Chris continued to keep the young girl amused with drawings of animals, bikes and animals on bikes. It took her a while to realise we didn't know what she was requesting without some sound effects. With a bit of mooing, clucking, bleating and growling we soon had several pages filled with little animals, people and monasteries. We got a little respite when she trotted off to do the washing up - which she did expertly and without even a whisper of complaint.
 
Seven O'clock came and nobody returned to open another room for the two us, an arrangement we only loosely understood after a rushed Tibetan phone call following our arrival. We were starving and our body's cores were still cold, we wanted to eat but weren't sure what would be the acceptable thing for us to do - and waited. After the girls mother had offered us some noodley gruel and we had declined we rushed to get our packet noodles from our bags - to everyone's relief we could all eat. We tucked into our noodles bulked out with some more from the family store box whilst the two ladies ate gruel, a little Tsampa and the hairy leg of a raw goat - the hoof and hair making a nifty handle as the women carved chunks with a stanley knife blade. After seing what her new friends were eating the girl also tucked into a packet of noodles and rumaged around to find a fork (not chopsticks) to be just like us. This was highly amusing to the little girls mother.
 
After food and several episodes of "sexually adventurous baker based drama" on VCD our key still hadn't arrived!
It was decided that we should have the neighbour, Neema's, one roomed house whilst she would sleep with the girl and her mother. We were packed off with another flask of hot water and made to feel really at home. Although we had slept over 4000m before, we hadn't for a couple of weks and the lack of Oxygen made for an uncomfortable night of headaches and racing pulses. AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) guidelines recommend you climb gradually when over 3000m -trying not to gain more than 400m in one day. We had more than doubled that the previous da, presuming we would get lower. As the climbing addage goes "climb high, sleep low".
After some rest we awoke at 8, before our hosts, had breakfast and packed.
Around 9 when the sun was just starting to rise above the hills we were brought another flask of hot water. We filled our bottles and asked what we were expected to pay. The night before we had been expecting to pay about 30Yuan each and maybe a little for the noodles. Our host could have asked for anything up to 100 Yuan as we were stuck and with no choice but she wouldn't take a penny! We were touched by her generousity as we clearly had a lot more material wealth than her.
Warmed by her actions we continued our descent to Shegar clad in down jackets and as much GoreTex as we could muster. Normally this attire is far to much for cycling, even at altitude, but with the sub zero temps and added wind chill we were still bitterly cold. We stopped at the valley bottom in the sun and brewed up some tea. Things didn't seem so bad after that and Shegar, with electric blankest, was just a few km on.

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Shigatse Tashilhumpo Monastery.

 

Having completed the kora on our previous trip we got up early to visit the interior of the monastery. It was a whopping 55 Yuan each (well just a fiver to you) perhaps the monks knew we hadn't cycled back to Shigatse!!
The monastery is a huge complex of temples, tombs, assembly halls, dormitories and courtyards linked by narrow winding alleyways.
As the seat of the Panchen Lama there are tombs for his previous incarnations, from the 4th to the 10th. Some of the tombs were desecrated during the cultural revolution but much of the complex is original including an atmospheric assembly hall which dates from the 15th century and the founding of the monastery.
Our "do it yourself" tour started with the chapel of Jampa (the future Buddha) containing the worlds largest golden statue gilded with over 300kg of gold and lots of precious stones. The seated figure is 26 metres tall and took 900 artists 14 years to complete after being commissioned in 1914 by the 9th Panchen Lama. It was a breath taking sight and a good warm up for what was to come. Each of the tombs contained equally impressive idols and jewel encrusted stupas. The tomb of the 4th Panchen Lama was an 11 metre silver and gold chorten dripping with coral, turquoise and precious stones. Unfortunately the charges for taking photographs ranged from 3 to 10 pounds, so we left it to the rich.
As we headed through corridors filled with religious artefacts monks chanted prayers, clashed cymbals and banged drums. In each of the chapels and rooms were pictures of the 9th, 10th and 11th Panchen Lamas. The 11th Panchen Lama is a young Chinese sponsored boy and second choice for the job as the original, chosen by the Dalai Lama, is still under house arrest in an undisclosed location (the 10th Panchen Lama aslo spent an uncomfortable while at the hands of Chinese jailers before agreeing to see things "their way" then later reverting back to the side of the Dalai Lama before returing to Tibet to die).
There were empty thrones in many of the rooms. The thrones having been used by past and present Lamas resembled big comfy cushions on raised platforms. The most impressive throne was in the oldest assembly hall set amongst rows of rounded wooden pillars aged by the passage of time. The entrance to this assembly hall was as impressive - a 500 year old timber door through metre deep stone walls, a much more solid sounding construction technique than a lot of the other walls which were bundles of twigs and mud though these had also weathered well.
As we walked back down towards the main gates of the monastery we passed a courtyard filled with young maroon clad monks shouting at each other. The monastic skill of debating is widely practised throughout Tibetan monasteries with small groups of monks arguing their corners and slapping their hands together to emphasise points. Although we had no idea what they were talking about it makes quite a sight and is presumably a good way for the young monks to let off some steam.

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Why cycle when you can take the bus

 

We recc'ed the bus station two days before and found out that buses to Shigatse ran every hour on the hour from the scores of men wanting to sell us a ticket. Upon returning nice and early for the 10 o'clock bus the lady at the ticket office point blank refused to sell us a ticket despite Jane's best attempts in Chinese. Fortunately there was a bus driver keen to get us on his bus who snuck us through and then sent a mate to get our tickets. The bikes and Chris were pointed to the top of the bus so he clamboured up to strap them on - presumably the driver had come across cyclists before!

The ticket said we'd leave at 10.30 so, at 10.30 the bus reversed from it's bay and drove to the gates where it stopped for last minute passengers. Ten minutes later we went through the inner gates to the outer gates where we stopped again for really last minute passengers. Unfortunately, the bus wouldn't start. Carpets were pulled aside to reveal the engine, the hatch completely blocking Jane in her seat while Chris learnt how to fix one end of the fuel injection system and then the other  (mostly with a spanner and some brute force). Finally it restarted and we exited the main gates, drove 1km down the road before pulling into a petrol station to fill up. Half the men got off the bus at this point and headed to the toilet - well it had been over an hour since we first got on the bus! back on the road for 3km and then some more passengers were crammed in.

After the city limits we felt we were finally on our way, that was until we reached the first checkpoint at 40km. Nobody seemed to know what was wrong but we spent an hour waiting for permission or something to allow us to continue. Our driver disappeared followed by most of the bus including the girl who had been sick after the first time 17 minutes of the journey (mostly parked). Some people took bags off and some returned to the bus to have a big discussion as to why we were delayed - to the best of our knowledge no one was any the wiser. A different man then got into the driving seat but then realised he had no keys. More waiting and eventually the original driver returned brandishing a piece of paper and we set off again. Both the driver and his assistant seemed confused by the piece of paper and didn't appear to know what the point of it was. They therefore stopped everywhere along the way where there were bus or minibus drivers parked up. Each stop involved lengthy discussions and equally lengthy scrutiny of the piece of paper. Something must have been resolved as the subsequent checkpoints were relatively hassle free.

5 hours after leaving our hotel we reached the place we'd camped on the way into Lhasa a journey which only took us 5 and a half hours by bicycle. Thankfully the remainder of the journey was quicker as we rocketed through the last bit of gorge listening to an alto tenor with a chinese backing group on the bus radio.

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After a couple of days of sightseeing around lhasa we headed out of the city to Ganden, a hill top monastery 50km to the north-east. We dusted off the bikes (after 3 days of being chained to the garden fence) and negotiated our way to the bridge over the Kyi Chu river that marks the edge of the city. 
As we headed upstream, we were surprised by the amount of development along the previously agricultural valley. It was a mixture of business parks, deserted holiday villages and a run down miniature theme park.  Eventually, after 20km or so the villages became more suited to their farming roots but we have heard that the government wants the population here to increase from 80,000 to 3,000000 in the very near future!!!
A tiny side road with little indication led us to Ganden which was perched a kilometre above us. A 9km climb on steep switchbacks brought us to the entrance and ticket office.  The monks showed us 3 tickets - 45 yuan, 35 yuan and 15 yuan, they then presented us with the 15 yuan ones explaining that it was because we'd cycled there - definitely worth cycling then! We set off in a clockwise direction around the kora which took in many natural manifestations of Lord Buddha (mostly looking  like rocks to our untrained eyes). There were many enclosed shrines and hundreds of colourful prayer flags which lined the path. A family complete with tiny tots were circumnavigating the mountain top at the same time as us, each of them touching their heads to the various sacred rocks and shrines, even the youngest knowing what to do. We, on the other hand needed a little guidance but were lucky enough to be shown what to do by a helpful Tibetan at the 'sin testing' rock. The sin testing rock is a rock decorated by thousands of tiny offerings with a narrow passageway at the back which you have to squeeze through to pass the test. If you have too many sins you presumably get stuck - Thankfully, we both squeezed through and therefore passed the test - looks like the mount Kailash kora worked then!
As we came back round the hill the path led us in to the monastic buildings all rebuilt since the cultural revolution but looking faithful to the original. As we walked past the main assembly hall we heard the hum of monks praying. There were several distinctive sounds, a low droning, an intermittent melodic chant and it's replies and the pounding of the drums. As we peeked behind the curtain we saw a large decorated hall full of burgundy robed monks at prayer.
In other buildings there were huge Buddhas, jewel encrusted tombs and monks going about their daily business. By 3.30 the monks seemed to be closing many of the buildings for the day so we free-wheeled back down to the main road and headed back to base.
 

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Amongst the bustling modern city of Shigatse the extensive Tashilhunpo monastery offers a real glimpse of pre-cultural revolution Tibet. One of the few untouched religious structures not to fall foul of the Red Guard the monastery is the seat of the Panchen Lamas, second only in standing to the Dalai Lamas. Around the perimeter of the citadel is a Kora consisting of twisting alleyways (filled with prayer wheels) which then climbs on rocky paths lined with sacred trees, rocks and incense burners. We followed the devout, turning prayer wheels and releasing the prayers into the wind.
Two days following the Yarlung Tsampo (Brahmaputra) along the grassy plains and down an impressive white water gorge brought us to Lhasa. We stopped off to say "Hello" to the medicine Buddha on the way - A massive carved and painted Buddha on a cliff face 10km outside the capital. From there the surroundings became more and more built up, first passing Mastiff kennels and industrial units, then slum housing, a development zone and finally a long avenue filled with car dealerships and upmarket businesses. We detoured to the old road to enter the city via the West Gate and the Potala. We stopped for a photo in front for the Potala, the old residence of the Dalai Lama. Before we could even set up the camera some monks rushed over so they could have their photo taken with us and our bikes for their friends.
After a bit of searching we found a suitably sunny room in the Tibetan part of town, minutes away from the ancient streets of the Barkhor circuit and the Jokhang Temple. The Barkhor circuit is the kora of the temple and winds through market-stall packed streets selling everything from monk's outfits to brightly coloured religious antiques (mostly recently made in workshops around the corner). At the front of the Jokhang, behind a large incense burner and the huge flagpoles, there are hundreds of people prostrating themselves as hundreds of others queue to enter the temple. Tourists (who pay to enter) bypass most of the queue and are ushered in by security guard. However, as there is nothing to explain this it took us a while to work out how to get in.
Parts of the building date from the 7th century and as you enter the courtyard you are greeted by dancing ladies, monks and an offering vessel into which yak butter tea (we think) is poured.  The sound of people murmuring prayers and singing along with the throng of the atmosphere is amazing. The Tibetans fervour to gain entry results in a lot of pushing and barging as children and religious relics are pushed through the crowd. Offerings in the form of yak butter, yak butter tea, sacks of rice or money are all brought into the inner sanctum, a three storey enclosed courtyard containing the main assembly hall. Here there are rows of benches where the monks sit and chant prayers in front of giant golden Buddha's. When the monks aren't praying, their habits sit on the benches each looking like the sorting hat from Harry Potter.
Round the edges of the inner sanctum there are dozens of small chapel rooms each containing statues of various enlightened beings from Buddha's to past Kings of Tibet. Some of them looked pretty scary to us even though they were all benevolent in Tibetan folklore. Each room had at least one yak butter lamp to which worshippers added their own yak butter offering and somewhere to make a monetary contribution. People pressed their heads against the icon or against the glass if it was encased.
The smell of the burning yak butter, incense and pilgrims was quite stifling but the atmosphere was nonetheless enchanting. Photos were not allowed in the temple but every inch of every surface was covered in elaborate carving or decoration- you'll have to come and see it for yourselves!

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Well Tibet is definitely a country of at least two parts. We have come through the remote West where houses are few and far between and living is incredibly basic and tough. We have seen towns bypassed by new Chinese development at the cost of local businesses and we have seen how the new Chinese infrastructure has brought modern communication to the majority of other communities.
The toilet situation remains "al fresco" in the smaller towns and against many of the blank walls in the cities although plumbing is now common place.
The people, both Chinese and Tibetan are very friendly and we feel really bad for having picked up so little of the local languages. Mandarin still seems the most widely understood, probably because we have passed through several different dialects of Tibetan on our travels.
We have continued to watch CCTV - Chinese Central Television where the build up to the Olympics is definitely top priority. The television promotes a very harmonious view of the country, with  lot of focus on China's ethnic diversity and economic growth. I can see that the state has realised the importance of tourism, both from outside the country and from the newly affluent domestic population. I can also see that this along with the governments use of internet polls to determine public policy and the new promotion of the arts favours the developed areas a lot more than the areas we have cycled through so far. Modern communism is certainly very different that of Mr Mao's day.
 

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After the comforts of the Tibetan Farmers Adventure Hotel the 150km to Shigatse suddenly seemed manageable. We set off from town with a half dozen Tibetan breads, a pack of Tofu and confident legs.
Almost right out of Lahtse the road took us to the base of a hefty mountain pass, our notes reckoned we had 1000m of vertical work to do in just 14km. The pass looked a little lower to us so we raced up it as best as we could. A short descent down the other side and then relatively gradual inclines until the 75th kilometre.
We were running out of water and the fast average speeds were taking their toll. The computer on Jane's bike had packed in earlier in the day but by timing the gaps between kilometre markers it was possible to work out our speeds were over 30kph on the flat and just a little slower on the ups. We maintained these speeds to a little town where we stocked up on juice and water. From this town we had 60 km and one pass to go.
The landscape opened out into wider valleys and the head winds picked up, the going was getting harder. Chris adopted as low a position on his bike as possible in order to best cut through the wind but the average speeds had dropped. It looked as if it might turn out to be a long day.
Just as the road steepened a little a puck-puck-puck of a tractor could be heard behind us. Soon the Yak pelt laden vehicle over took us. Two Tibetan men were sat atop the pelts under a puppy dog emblazoned blanket. They beckoned or us to chase them. We hesitated, then we sprinted for the back of the tractor. Tucking into the slipstream of the tractor we were pulled along at quite a good speed and for very little effort. When our new Tibetan friends saw a change in the road ahead they would signal to us with their hands. When the road steepened to climb the second pass of the day we found hand holds amongst the pelts and strapping and were literally pelted up the hill. On and off we used the little tractor to our advantage for about 50km, all the way into Shigatse. It's very rare to find one of these tractors going as fast as us. On the whole we pass them on every bridge where they stop to bleed and refill their overheated radiators. A Chinese tractor is a very different beast to it's european counterpart, essentially it is just an engine, two wheels and long control handles leading to a trailer, it is also a great way to travel.

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Kaga, billed as a dump turned out to be an average little junction town. To get there we had a tiring, gravelly day heading over lots of little (but not insignificant) passes and just before town we passed a lake and the first trees we'd seen in over 2000km! We weren't sure we would find a hotel but right in the centre we found a grand archway leading to a motel style building. The motel seemed to us to be a carpentry workshop though the chippies downed tools, did a bit of shouting in the direction of another building and confirmed to us it was still a hotel. A lad shortly appeared on a motorbike and showed us to a room which, although had the water turned off and had seen better days, would have been quite posh in the non too distant past. We had a great meal in the Chinese cafe next door with the owner's toddler quite happily playing round the tables with a kitten on a piece of string. We're not sure the kitten was so happy though worryingly Chris thought that child could have been him when he was small!
As we headed East and to lower ground the valleys became more fertile. We passed bundles of hay, trees, fields and craggy villages tucked away up side valleys. There was very little Chinese influence and every house looked typically Tibetan - white washed walls with the  ends of beams painted under the eves and red and green window frames around the little panes of glass. Every front door was draped with the colourful hangings used to keep out the drafts and evil spirits.
Shortly after crossing the Yarlung Tsangpo (Brahmaputra) we came to the end of highway 219. We joined the Friendship Highway (that runs between Lhasa and Nepal) and asphalt again making the short trip to Lhatse a breeze. In the three years since jane was last at Lhatse the town had tripled in size but after cycling past kilometres of new shops we eventually found the old centre of town and the 'Tibetan Farmer's Adventure' a great looking and friendly hotel.

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About 20 feet from Raga the road turned to asphalt. Our planned daily distance doubled to 117km - taking in two passes. It was cold and we had to shelter from the wind in a sheepfold for our lunch before continuing past fields of ladies out collecting dung. The good road ended along with our luck 6km before Sangsang. Why the previous stretch of road had been blessed with asphalt we've no idea.
Sangsang was billed as the sort of place we would be able to get food, a bed and possibly a shower. Following our guidebook's advice we cycled straight past an attractive Tibetan style hotel to "Hotel Sangsang". Despite the peeling paint, cracked windows and waft of apple brandy we checked into our bare and basic room.
The previous, presumably Chinese, owners had moved on and a Tibetan family had taken over the management. The apple brandy smell and a private party of Tibetans had taken over the adjoining restaurant. Our bathroom for the night along with that of the private party was either the inner or outer wall of the hotel compound, with choices like that who could complain?

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From Saga to Raga the road was in pretty good shape, just as well as it had to climb a steep 5000m pass. We were in reasonable shape too until Jane, startled by the appearance of road grooming tractors, fell off her bike. A little bruised and with a little hole to the elbow we dropped down onto loosely raked gravel to the town of Raga (or Raka, our map gave both names).
The town had a couple of hotels, a checkpoint and a semi redundant petrol station - it was now acting as a meeting and sleeping point for a local herd of shaggy goats.
Our bed for the night came with a bucket of yak droppings, perfect for the little stove in our room. Our hostess lit the fire for us then periodically checked we were keeping it going properly.
In the morning the men of the family tried out our bikes cycling around the courtyard of the hotel. The bell on Jane's bike was the star of the show.

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Pass, Camp, Pass, Camp, Pass, Camp, Pass, Camp, Pass! And all in order to get to Saga for a shower. The road didn't really improve though the nights were warmer, having travelled further East. The mornings however, were not and one day low cloud kept the temperatures well below freezing until noon.
The packet noodle diet has been supplemented by "Thuk-pa" (noodles - but in Tibetan) as we were able to stop in small villages for lunch. We found the valleys are becoming more inhabited the closer we get to Lhasa. Some of the villages now have wells and the small towns even have toilets (though few locals seem to grasp the concept).
We descended through Saga with anticipation of a warm bed and a hot shower at the Moon Star Hotel. Yes they had rooms, Yes they'd give us a discount but NO hot water due to frozen pipes...AAARGH! The room was so nice complete with heated blankets and a telly we couldn't resist. The town has intermittent power and we eventually did get a hot shower though the water is now only on between 8pm and midnight. Happy Days!

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The bad roads between Mansarovar and Paryang were hard on the arms and back -Corrugations, stones, gravel, sand and a lot of swearing.
The camping was as cold as it has been and both the top of the sleeping bags and the inside and outside of the tent were frozen solid, litre bottles of water left next to us also suffered the same fate. Paryang was the the first "big" town since Ali and it meant a proper bed and a hot meal (something other than beef flavour 2 minute noodles!). On entering town we headed for a large concrete compound with "hotel" scrawled in red paint on the outer wall. Not put off by the pack of dogs outside and the bustle of human activity we were greeted by a cheery little lady who led is in past the dogs then past a tarpaulin covered in hearts, lungs and intestines, past the trench filled with blood and in through the gates where sheep's heads, hoofs, skins and butchered remains lay across from the pen of blissfully stupid sheep. Our room commanded spectacular views of the whole operation and it was remarkable that the scene didn't offend us, despite the carnage there seemed to be no welfare issues with the animals (except for the expert men with their knives). The live sheep seemed to show no signs of distress what so ever. On leaving town the following day we discovered the yak compound and as Chris stopped to take  photo of a man cleaving a yak in half with a hatchet a lump of intestine was hurled over the wall narrowly missing Chris's head before being fought over by some dogs, it is lucky that the intestines hadn't hit Chris as that would have been offal !

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Tired after the kora, we planned a short day to Barga (a small town with a nice guesthouse on the crossroads according to Lonely Planet) and then a pannier-free skip over the mountain to Lake Manasaravor and a bath at the hot springs. Things didn't quite go to plan. Firstly, Barga seemed to have no crossroads and secondly, no guesthouse! A quick rethink had us pedalling fully laden up a semi completed new road where we spent as much time detouring off the edges into sand as actually on the road. Not only was the road against us but the wind seemed determined to push us back - hmm, was somebody trying to tell us something?
Eventually we reached the top of the pass and had a full view of the aqua blue lake surrounded by snowy topped mountains in one direction and a Mount Kailash framed through the prayer flags in another .........and all under a bright blue sky. Well, maybe it was worth it after all though the descent, equally as bad as the ascent had us questionning our decision to visit the lake again.
We were heading for the village below the Chui Monastery, a precariously placed collection of buildings on some very craggy rocks. The village, said to have a bathhouse with hot, steaming water flowing through was partly what had attracted us to do this detour, well, that and the fact that Lake Manasaravor is Tibet's most venerated lake from where myth goes that the four great rivers of the Indian subcontinent arise (not actually true but nice idea). Tibet doesn't go much on baths, showers or washing in general really but for us, after several days of cycling, it was to be a treat. However, as we approached the village the hot soak seemed less and less likely. What we realised was the glass roofed bathhouse had definitely seen beter days with peeling walls and a large rusty padlock. The village didn't appear any less tired or abandoned and as we made our way over a narrow walkway brigding the bubbling river we were beginning to think our only option was to turn around.
As we scrambled up the bank to the grey buildings, an old wizened Tibetan lady appeared  from out of a toilet building. After a moment she indicated sleep with her hands to which we nodded. She didn't strike us as the usual sort of person to have any form of guesthouse and were a little suspicious so when a younger man headed our way seemingly knowing what we wanted, we were drawn towards him - that was before he lay down on the floor muttering. The place was not looking up!! The old lady seemed the best option afterall and when she showed us to a small room in a compound that was clearly dormitory accommodation, we relaxed. Next question - How much? This caused a lot of hand movements and head shaking...she didn't know? After a bit more mining we gathered that there was an old man with a beard who knew the price but had gone away and would come back later. We settled in and hoped the price would not be a silly one!
Despite the 'no bath' the lake was beautiful and the whole feel was of being on the Cornish coast. Tibetan lakes have a definite feel of the sea. The village also had another side with a well-stocked shop and water?) the unusual sight of clean children (perhaps because of the hot water). The view from the top of the monastery of mount Kailash was as smart as any too. The village mysteriously had thee sets of public tiolets - a rare  thing for any Tibetan town let alone vlllage, we guessed in the pilgrim season things are a bit busier round there.
As we tucked into our packet noodles a little old man, with beard appeared at the door. He looked around the room  noting the big car batery and then disappeared off returning a few minutes later with a light. He then duly connected it, we had a sort of conversation about where we'd been and he finished off with a little dance and disappeared.
Lake Manasaravor may not have been what we expected but it was definitely worth the visit.

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The tar-sealed road continued up until Moincer and from there the road conditions just kept getting worse. Just before Darchen we headed through desert and waded sockless through freezing rivers just to avoid the bumpy, gravelly road.
Darchen is where the Mt Kailash Kora begins and ends, a 52km circular pilgrimage around one of Asia's holiest sites (for Hindu, Buddhist and Bon religions) which usually takes three days to circumnavigate. Buddhists believe that one circuit of the holy mountain cancels out a lifetime of sins so we both felt it was to be a worthy effort!
We'd been led to believe that Darchen was a grubby sort of a town and despite the lack of any sanitary arrangements we found ourselves a nice friendly, typically Tibetan, guesthouse. Our room on the lower floor of quite a grand house had bench beds around three of the walls, painted pillar and beam to support the timber roof and  a table with a battery on it. As we had arrived out of the main pilgrim season there were not many Tibetan or Indian pilgrims in town and we set off on the circuit with just a few other tourists behind us. The route was both interesting and beautiful. The highlights of our two day race around the mountain were firstly a huge flagpole festooned with prayer flags right below a Sky Burial site, the various prostration points where locks of hair and clothing are left in representation of re-birth and the snow covered 5630m pass, fluttering with prayer flags which was  just around from the North face of the mountain. The North face looked magestic at both sunrise and sunset. We spent the night in Dira Puk Monastery where the young monks "treated" us to our first taste of Tsampa. Tsampa is the local staple, roasted barley flour into which you add yak butter tea and then kneed it with your hand until you have something that resembles uncooked crumble mix. You then eat  the Tsampa in little uncooked sausages washed down with more yak butter tea. For those of you not too familiar with yak butter tea it is basically a normal cup of black tea to which you add a little sugar and a little salt. This is then poured in to a drain pipe like churn and then rancid yak butter is added and the whole lot is mushed into a greasy, yaky infusion and served in small wooden or china bowls. The size of the bowls is no comfort for once you have been served yak butter tea your cup is constantly refreshed. Fortunately Tibetans know us foreigners are a little shy of yak butter and most tea houses have served us hot water or green tea!

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On our last night in Ali we met up with a group cycling from Edinburgh to Everest - with Landrover support (see www.edinburghtoeverest.com). The first day of cycling saw us all arrive at New Namru. The two of us had just tucked into a bowl of 2 minute noodles when Shamus, Dan and their Tibetan guide Tashi arrived in the landrover, Ailsa wasn't far behind them on her bike. Our notes had informed us that there was a guest house in the village but we were having real trouble trying to find one. Tashi on the other hand, with his native tongue, quickly established it was possible for us all to stay in someone's house.
Soon we had taken over a young Tibetan girls one room house. Pots, pans and boxes of food were unloaded from the landrover and before long potatoes were on the stove and Michael Jackson was pumping through Dan's Ipod, usefully  rigged through the girls car stereo / beat box. After an hour of trying to boil the spuds, first on yak dung then Eastern Block coal from the Landrover's roof, we realised why Tibetans 1) Use pressure cookers, and 2) Don't eat spuds...Water boils at a much lower temperature at altitude! Our Western tunes were substituted for local folk music at the hosts demands and finally dinner was served. Sausage, beans and potatoes (mashed by a handy beer can) came as a great treat to the two of us though Tashi and our host thought rather less of the delight. After a warm night spent around the bench/beds of the little house breakfast was served to the beats of Tibetan hard house music, apparently more appropriate than anything on Dan's Ipod.
 

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After the non event of the border crossing we dropped down a few hundred metres to the single row of restaurants and businesses that make up Tielong. Before we could get there we had to cross a river so we selected granny gears and pedalled through in a oner. Our first night in Tibet was spent in the back of a typical Chinese trucksto, the ceiling decorated in criss-crossed lemonade labels.
Three passes around 5000m and several stream crossings took us through a landscape not too unlike the north-west of Scotland to Sumxi oiur first proper Tibetan town. It snowed a little as we approached the town on a dreadful road with a biting headwind. The town itself was low and brown. A rope across the entrance to town diverted us into a very colourful scene - Tibetans (complete with  Yak skin ruffs) were busy laoding horses and trucks with various bits and bobs. We wandered around looking for food and a bed to no avail. We were pushed from pillar to post and refused service at a couple of places before two young girls pointed us to what turned out to be a shop. Jane caused a panic by asking for her noodles without meat  - an alien concept in Tibet- so we had our noodle and onion soup in the shop/ living room whilst one of the girls looked through our Tibet book and various members of the family and friends came in and out for yak butter tea. That night was spent in the shop's store room after the grand spectacle of us unpacking our sleeping gear was witnessed by the whole family.
Breakfast was a few kms up a pass after town Chris having to break through several inches of ice for water. The weather worsened as we climbed and a long gradual descent brought us to a stream-side campsite. Just after we dropped off to sleep it started to snow and it continued until we woke up - well, til we got up as jane spent a fair bit if the night shaking the snow off the tent.
We cycled in snow and hail for 40km to Domar, a pleasant surprise of a town with warm restaurants, spicy noodles and a big shop with small prices. We'd filled our stomachs, stocked up on supplies and were about to set off when a fresh flurry of snow made us reenter the faux-wooden entrance of the restaurant we'd just eaten in. Our afternoon and night was spent in a little bedroom with criss-crossed Mexican coke labels on the ceiling and just enough headroom to put a hood up and ....wait for it...ELECTRIC BLANKETS!! the snug factor was immense and made the three games of phone scrabble all the more pleasurable.
It took two sunny but cold days to get to Rutok. We passed the shores of Pangong Tso, a 110km long lake that stretches to Ladakh, India. The craggy shores looked like a Meditteranean island in the sun and a Nordic fjord in the shade. 3km before  Rutok Xian the single most impressive sight of the trip so far greeted us - TARMAC -  Well maybe not but after over 800km of progressively worsening roads, it was a very welcome sight.
Rutok on the other hand was disappointing because we were dying to get clean and the hotel had no running water. After 20 days with no shower we skipped the rest day and pushed on for Ali. The 127km between the two towns took us a day and a bit on the lovely smooth road which was so new we overtook the lads painting the km markers.
Ali appeared below us as a surprisingly sprawling town. After Rutok and it'sd one crossroads, Ali at first seemed massive. Now that we've been here a day and found food (orion peies -like wagon wheels once were) , accommodation and internet accesss all within 400m of each other, it doesn't seem so big. After three weeks of not washing ourselves or clothes properly and a daily average diet of one pack of noodles and some biscuits and occasional snacks , it was surprising to look into the mirror and then to shave, shower and eat. We've only got another day in Ali and then we start another 3 weeks of rationing and exertion,. the next town with computers should be Saga, towards the middle of Tibet, and we'll be in touch then
 

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We found a great little spot next to  a river with spectacular views of the Askai Chin - over to where we were heading and the extent of this entry.
The Askai Chin has the Worlds highest road. It is a high mountain plateau and was the subject of a border war between China and India in 1962. India still claim it to this day though it is so remote that the Indians didn't notice the Chinese building a road through the middle of it! The Only town before the ascent to the Askai Chin is Dahongliutan and we rolled in there with a huge collection of plastic bottles, ready to stock up on drinking water before the desert of the plateau. The biggest and friendliest restaurant in town had just had a delivery of chickens, the dining room had been converted into a plucking station and the Kitchen into some sort of  a tar pit into which the hundred or so carcasses were being dipped and set aside. We have no idea why but it lasted from our lunch time, through our dinner and way past our bed time.
We left in the morning with our collection of water bottles and instructions that we would follow a river all the way to the plateau. The river actually ran dry after about 10km and we only noticed about 12km up the valley. This left us with a dilemma: carry on and hope to find water or back-track and carry 7kg of water up the pass. We plumped for the latter. A further 25km up the steep valley we stopped at a disused Daoban (road maintenance camp). It was a concrete ruin with a few windows intact and one of the rooms containing less rubbish than the others. This room had a makeshift sign above the door saying 'Cyclist's Inn' and graffiti from previous bikers all over the internal walls. After a cold night on the concrete floor we set off up the very steep road to the soda plains of the Askai Chin. The plains are a massive expanse of land stretching across the horizon from mounatin to mountain. As we passed through them the hills and ground took on a myriad of different colours and textures (though mostly kind of sandy). We set up our first cap in a brutally windy spot by the side of the rutted dirt road. I think we ate as much sand as noodle that night. When we awoke at first light our tent was icy, our sleeping bags were icy and the temp inside the tent registered as -8 degrees C. The road through the plains continued in a rutted sandy fashion passing a lake by a big army base, we stocked up with some dubious water and found we were faster cycling through the desert than on the road. Our next camp was sheltered by a small hill and judging by the bike tracks around had already been a temporary camp for other cyclists.
After a slightly less chilly night we climbed a pass and entered Tibet though no marker or flag defined the border.

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The First Passes on the road to Tibet

 

After our first night camping in the sandy desert plain 25km beyond the junction, the next couple of days took us from just over 1000m to 3300m on the Kudi pass. On the way we encountered more small towns and admiration at Ludwig's bike and we made use of the shops in the tiny towns buying up their drinks supply and stocking up on sweets and biscuits - four cyclists can put quite a dent in a small shops supply! After that first pass we were starving so, at the valley floor we pumped up our stoves and cooked up our two minute noodles much to the interest of the army guys from the nearby base.

It was uphill along a river valley to Kudi where we were fed 'mifan' (plain rice), vegetable and egg and soup by a lady who clearly knew how much we could eat. We had another close encounter at the police checkpost where the serious faced officer was a little disconcerting but we were eventually waved on after giving passport details and we camped in a ruined building a couple of kilometres up the road.

The next day we continued our climb reaching 4000m but still only at the base of the Chiragsaldi Pass. It was a cold valley which froze the tents overnight and made for a chilly start the next morning. However, by the time we had climbed the 24 kilometres to the top at 4960m we were feeling a little warmer. At that altitude the going gets slower and slower as you climb higher and we were amazed how long it had taken us. So, after only a brief stop to donn all our warm clothes, we were whizzing down for 24kms on a road punctuated by big piles of rocks and gravelly corners (yuch).

After the narrow gorge, it was nice to come out  into the wide Yarlung He Valley and to Mazar. Mazar itself resembled a shanty town and we're not quite sure how it got on the map with only two brick buildings and no obvious signs of a toilet! However, no real complaints as we ended up staying at a shack with good food (and plenty of it) which had a 'dorm' room at the back - a wooden platform on each side of the room and lots of thick, heavy duvets to keep us warm. Dick and Ludwig liked it so much they opted for a rest day but we felt we needed to keep moving so pedalled on to the base of the next pass for another sub zero night - luckily the Rab sleeping bags did a fine job of keeping us warm!

The Xiadulla pass was steeper but a smidge lower at 4930m. Unfortunately, the promised long descent was 'pants' due to a horribly gravelly and corrugated road which completely destroyed Chris's front rack! Admittedly the rack has been a disaster from the start and in no way matches up to Jane's Tubus one - slightly smug tone intended - but without it packing is a little trickier. Anyway, that and the strong headwind almost completely finished us off but the promise of food and a bed in Xaidulla was too good to miss and we struggled on to reach the small army town. In hindsight, after a night of soldiers gambling a few doors down and a generator going all night which meant our light on all night, we would have been better camping!

 

 

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Quick stop at the bike shop in Kashgar shortly followed by a sheared bolt on Chris's rack. While fixing it we were caught by Dick (Holland) and Ludwig (Austria) who stopped briefly to help but then rode on to the the next town  for Langman (noodles). We have since discovered that Ludwig is fuelled by noodles and even at 52 years old takes a bit of catching after a bowl.
We cycled with them to Yengisar where a power cut saved us from decyphering a menu we would have had no chance of understanding even with the lights on. That was after a market visit where the boys stuffed away greasy, meaty doughnuts and Jane bought a good supply of fruit and caramelised nuts!
We all set off for a days cycle across a huge, barren and grey desert with snowy mountains looming over to our right.
Bolt Shearing number 2! - Chris again. (Blackburn Expedition front rack by the way!) that again was quickly fixed with a hacksaw and a fresh bolt. After the desert we were relieved to be back into tree lined roads with little villages cooking up fresh bread, imagine a cross between Naan and Pizza, rolled in onion before being cooked in a clay oven. Of our four bikes we discovered Ludwig's was to be the chosen one, attracting large crowds wherever we stopped. Perhaps the head light, integrated lock and prop stand carry more favour than Shimano XTR (google it if you aren't a bikey type).
 
We reached Yarcant where we had a nice hotel though we were a little perturbed by the condom choice in the room and the smiley girls on the landing. All became obvious when Dick and Ludwig were offered the girls companionship for the evening (at a price of course), the boys declined and Chris was put out not have been offered. After much roaming around with empty stomachs we ended up in a Hotpot restaurant without any clue what the menu said. Dick pointed to his his translation of "meat, rice and veg" so we were surprised to find we were brought a boiling pot of chicken stock and some intestines. Everyone picked around to get the bits of chicken but Chris was the only one to discover intestines benefit from a very good boiling!! We all piled over to the noodle shop after that for some of Ludwig's preferred fuel!
 
Next day- Bolt shearing number 3! - Ludwig.
Chris is getting quite nifty at removing bits of bolt and just as we spend our final day on tarmac for a while. The last stretch of metalled road took us through very lush and fertile area to Kharglic or Yecheng (everywhere seems to have at least two names). Noodle stop in Yecheng and then great trouble finding water but a little way on we got to Km 0, Highway 219 (the road that runs into Tibet).
We had heard about Police Checkpoints here and when we saw Dick and Ludwig being confronted by the Police we hid by a hotel, only to find out that the police were taking photos of the intrepid explorers to show their families.

For more information on guided cycle tours visit www.bordercycling.co.uk

Welcome to the first (Chris)itorial. Sort of like and Editorial but by me.
So we've cycled over 2000km, gone from doing the equivalent of an 8hr spin class on the hottest beach in Greece to sleeping in the ice cube tray of your freezer. We've picked up bad tummies and a couple of cycling companions. Lost Both, some weight and a couple of toenails.
It seems so long since Pakistan where toilets were mostly plumbed in and on the whole the weather was baking hot. The border with China saw and improvement in the quality of road and a different sort of nan bread, the people too were markedly different, much more western looking, I could have passed quite easily for a local. The people there, though traditionally nomadic and Muslim, share a cultural and ethnic resemblance to the people of Russia and Greece (lots of Kebabs). As we moved towards the centre of the continent the Chinese influence was stronger, the roads beace awful, foods generally got spicier (no bread) and toilets generally less well constructed. We have spent most of our time here about the height of Everest Base Camp, we've had strong sun in the day, snow storms, ice and nights below minus 20C. The Chinese (rural classes) culture is very different to our own with many things we consider to be very rude accepted as the norm. Most males mornings start with a good hack up of phlegm and it's ejection onto the first hard surface available, itching, belching and farting is not covered up as we would.
The Chinese State has a very visual presence with army recruiting posters in  the middle of nowhere and all off the TV is State controlled, controversial websites are blocked, we haven't even seen our blog since Pakistan!!
Tibet is different still. There is still a lot of Chinese influence but there is also the Tibetan culture which we have only just started to sample, more on that later...

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Are you the Quizmaster? Play BrainBattle with a friend now!

Well we are now sitting in the Chinese city of Kashgar at the end of the Karakoram Highway and the ...   more »

We're in the mountains and sleeping with the locals already!   more »

Well three days to go before we leave, the bikes are built up with their new tyres. The tool kit is packed, the Ortlieb panniers have been checked over and the trousers are washed and ready to go.
For those of you not familiar with what to take on a cross Himalaya cycle trip here is a list of what we're taking, this is Chris's pack list so times it by 2 (apart from the tent and stove!):
A Bike, with...
 A Merlin steel frame
 Two Continental Travel tyres, one spare and a spare inner tube
 Selle Italia Gel Flow saddle
 Shimano XTR rear mech and shifters, XT hubs and Mavic 717 rims
 Sram front mech and LX Hollowtech II chainset (spare bottom bracket cups)
Four Orlieb panniers on blackburn racks stuffed with...
 North Face tent
 Rab Ladakh down sleeping bag
 Thermarest
 Primus multi fuel stove
 Trangia style pans
 Plastic bowl and a spork
 FreeLoader solar charger
 Samsung D900i phone, camera, mp3 player
 Expedition down jacket
 Sprayway expedition Gore-Tex and trousers
 Buffalo Jacket
 Sealskinz socks and MTB gloves
 2 pairs of cycle shorts
 2 pairs of other undies
 3 pairs of socks
 1 shirt
 2 Helly Hansen Lifa thermals
 2 Odlo micro base layers
 A wooly hat, baseball cap, sunnies and a Buff
 Big first aid kit
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Welcome to the first post on Border Cycling's blog.

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Marrakesh

We got here safe and well. After trying our luck haggling for prices with a 'taxi grand' at the ...   more »

Marrakesh

We got here safe and well. After trying our luck haggling for prices with a 'taxi grand' at the ...   more »

This winter we are off to Morocco, high mountains and hot desert await.

Morocco is an Islamic nation where French, ...   more »