I'm older now, and I'm still running against the wind.
Bob Seger

After 21 days across Tibet, roof of the world, astride a mountain bike that has ground my backside into blistered blisters, I am ready to be on foot. No wonder a popular sporting magazine rated this the toughest organized bike ride on the planet! They forgot to mention this in the brochure. One thing is certain, however. I have earned a free pass to heaven.

But there is one more phase to complete before I arrive in Kathmandu, and am finally free of the now dreaded wheels and potholes. I poise my Litespeed on the edge of Tibet, gaze outward to infinity for a long while, then take a deep breath and launch myself into Nepal. What lies ahead is 9000 feet of curvaceous descent, back down to the land of oxygen and the sweetest warmth in the world.

Finally, after 600 miles of gravel pit and gale force headwinds, on a diet of dust and gruel, I groan into Kathmandu, romance magnet and one time adventure capital of the world, and slam on the brakes a final time. Weary, tattered, and ill with bowel complaints, I check into a local hostel and opt for some serious isolation. I am in no mood for adventure, romance, or any human company for that matter.

 

Shem, in the rear above, would ride up and down the pace line, shouting words of encouragement to his battle-weary troops. (next photo)