Cycling World Magazine

Two weeks cycling through the mountain ranges of Morocco, desperately trying to keep up with David who was fi tter, stronger and 20 years younger and seemed to like doing 100-mile days, had been good preparation but there was still the great unknown as to how I would react to altitude and the fact that I was drawing my State pension this year.

The good news was that I wasn’t going to be alone. The Chinese only seem to give out group visas for Tibet so I had signed up to go with Red Spokes Adventure Travel with whom I had already had two brilliant trips to Laos and Kerala. I had a rough idea what to expect: responsible tourism, support for a local good cause, comfort rather than luxury and very good value for money. I had spoken to Dermot, the owner of Red Spokes, some time before about Tibet and he summed it up by saying that some of their trips like Laos and Kerala were holidays and some were expeditions. He classed Tibet as an expedition!

The tour notes and equipment list told a tale. Six high passes, 5 over 5000 metres, headwinds, 12 days camping at altitude, a good quality 4-seasons sleeping bag, gloves suitable for the Himalayas, 2 sets of thermals: it was not difficult to infer that there were tough times ahead

Three and a half days acclimatising in Lhasa gave our group of 15 plenty of time to get to know each other and soak up the atmosphere of this part-Tibetan, part- Chinese city. The awe-inspiring Jokhang temple and Potala palace teemed with prostrating pilgrims in close proximity to the Chinese department stores containing goods that wouldn’t go amiss in Harrods. Visiting the Jokhang temple was a feast for the senses with its beauty and colour - worth the air fare alone. The Chinese section of the city was very modern and had large areas being developed. Indeed, all the Tibetan towns we passed through showed signs that the Chinese were investing heavily in terms of infrastructure and housing. I came away with the sad impression that in a few years the Tibetans would be a minority in their own country.

The group was diverse and fun-loving and as our leader Ian organized us so we had a different room-mate every couple of days, we got to know each other fairly quickly. We comprised quite a few business people and managers, two doctors, one nurse, two schoolboys and one senior citizen all with some sort of love for cycling.

Although it was very necessary, spending so long acclimatizing felt a bit like the phony war and it was joyous to be eventually cycling through the Kyi Chu river valley with the snow capped Himalayas as a backdrop. The routine of each day varied little. After cycling at our own pace for 15 miles or so we would encounter one of the lorries at some picturesque spot and be offered drinks and nibbles. Then on for the same sort of distance to another refreshment stop. At lunchtime Locar, our Nepalese leader and cook, would magically produce a substantial warm meal to give us the energy for the afternoon’s endeavours. Could it get any better? Well, yes apparently, for on arriving at our first campsite at the foot of the Khamba La pass I was greeted with a hot drink and a bowl of warm water for washing. The sleeping and mess tents were all up so we were able to sit outside soaking up the sun, talking over the day before supper. It had been a gentle 52 miles on the flat and was not at all representative of what we would meet over the next couple of weeks.

The next day involved a climb of 1200 metres in the first 15 miles and felt much more of a battle with the elements from the awakening in a freezing cold tent to the gasping arrival at the top of the pass. The road was constructed sufficiently shallow to enable the Chinese lorries to ascend but the lack of oxygen made it feel twice as steep. It was a painful learning experience as I found trying hard even for a short while left me gasping for breath and with jelly-like legs. Drinking and cycling at the same time led to the same symptoms and so I resorted to stopping to drink and going at a pace that avoided any sort of oxygen debt. After all, it wasn't a race and we had all day to cover less than 50 miles. I was traveling about the same pace as Angela and we plodded on companionably through the endless bends. A couple of miles below the top the good tarmac surface disappeared, presumably destroyed through some vicious freezethaw action, and the mountain bikes came into their own. The traffic was very light but every lorry that went past resulted in us disappearing into a huge dust cloud making the journey feel even more of an endurance test. I was thinking that all we needed was a headwind and some horizontal snow and we would have a full set but those treats were saving themselves for another day! Eventually we saw a multitude of prayer flags fluttering in the breeze and soon after were sat on a wall in the sun enjoying the view of the beautiful turquoise waters of the Yamdrok Tso lake far below and snow capped Nazin Kang Sa in the distance.

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