Blog 70 Foothills of the Himalayas

28th November Sainamaina to Pokhara

Quick ride to Butwel, hotels cheaper and better than where I stayed but I got my jobs done. The secret is to make the best of what you have wherever you are. At Butwel I found a hotel to serve me tea but also had two plates of their delicious fresh yogurt, harder skin on the top. A small but beautiful pleasure. Sun coming out. Set off.

Suddenly out of of Butwel I hit the mountains. The contours of the map warned me with its wiggly line, but it can never prepare you for the real thing. I knew in the first 100 metres I’d not make Pokhara as planned, or would I?

The long distances I’d been able to do were on the flat with a following wind, except for the previous day with its short mountain range and still air stood out indicating my fitness fir the Himalayas. It was odd at last to use that word. I had arrived at the foothills.

Foothills of the Himalayas

It's all about riding and eating. Found a tiny little place run by a very old him and her - so authentic. I ate my potato dipped in spicy chutney and sipped hot tea. It made sense to simply let go and relax into whatever the ride was going to be. No control. Maintenance of a schedule can mean missing so much. Here the old lady washed her few pots meticulously, wiping, re-wiping, rearranging her steel cups on a shelf like soldiers on parade. The pink walls were clean, the three wooden tables painted and shiny everywhere given an order and it was beautiful to see.

Pans stacked like soldiers on parade

Today was about focus. As I toiled up the foothills, the twisting corners along a road that has no straights the radius of my vision was instantly reduced. If I could see the horizon my view stretched to beyond my front wheel. What I saw now extended from the macro view of a long distance ride to the minutiae of the stones that were the very construct of the surface over which I was travelling. I stopped for more tea and a brief rest.

I hear singularly the high pitched sound of an air hose leaking or was it a cricket? A bird. The hills are more regular heaving and falling around the side of forested mountain sides which when you see them from afar everything looks like it’s slipped down the vertiginous slopes.

At Gatlang I buy two brown ball things and two freshly fried samosas charging my battery for 15 mins. It's all about food. 30kms up the road I eat 4 freshly fried potatoes and a milk tea.

I have ridden 115 miles with one battery, 4000ft+ of climbing, 12 hours in the saddle. Tired. Thoughts

Just like the colours

Map of the Day