Namaste!

Over the last few weeks I have been preparing myself emotionally and mentally for the return to the west and everything that this incorporates. After the ride down from the Tibetan plateau (seemingly the penultimate segment of our entire trip) we were heading home. This was even more apparent when we realised that our funds were truly low and that we could not sustain the trip for much longer. Nepal was exciting during the period that we rode the bicycles. High from thrills and wheels we were intensely caught up in the now.

With the disappearance of the bicycles we had to experience the life of the public transport traveller - which was interesting for a little while but we really did not get into the swing of it. It is the freedom that we enjoy to go where we like and when we like and to have our bus departure times dictated to us was far too inhibiting! As we travelled back into India we were far to focused on getting our motorcycles back so that we may continue with the trip in a way that we held preference to. Already though in the back of my mind there was the feeling that I was beginning to say my goodbyes.

The first ride out to Amritsar did not have the same excitement as the other rides that we had experienced before. The road was for the most part flat and straight, our passing by many McD drivethroughs was most discouraging. Amritsar itself was glorious however we were templed out by this point and we battled to do the Golden temple any justice. We did find it extremely charming however and spent our time talking to Sikh pilgrims and soaking up the relaxed atmosphere.

It all began to get exciting again when we hit the curvy mountainous roads towards Dharamsala. Now we were able to use our twowheelswhirling skill again, we could enjoy the ride and be in awe of our surroundings.

In Manali we were surrounded by other foreigners who had come into the Himalayas to beat the heat of the delta. Rather disappointingly we were two amongst the herd of westerners who were also travelling around on motorbikes (nearly all of them on Enfields). Before we had been unique and now we were the same as everybody else, until we realised that... we were the only two women who were riding their own bikes, all of the other women were sat on the back of an Enfield. How pleasing for us but still we wanted to get away from the masses of non skid lid born to be wild Guervara/ Dean wannabees (how unfair a comment). We changed our plan to ride the road to Leh, where everybody was heading, weather conditions permitting, and we wanted to be different - as always. So we chose Spiti.

Our attempt to get to Spiti heralded much excitement and danger for us. If we had been stupid we could have found ourselves in trouble. Help is not readily available here and if you find yourself in a sticky situation you will have to find your own way out of it, it is not guaranteed that there will be anybody else around. We loved this responsibility for ourselves.

We rode in awe of mother nature. Tarmacked roads became faded versions of their previous forms, unable to deal with the force of H20. The lack of drainage facilities had caused premature wear on road surfaces and all efforts to maintain structure were in vain - it is a constant battle. Road workers live in makeshift tarpaulin tents for six months of the year, they try to keep the road navigable. When the masses go home they are left high up at 3000 metres above sea level, living in thick cloud resulting in poor visibility and almost no facilities. They are unnoticed by the excited holidaymakers from the plains below.

Lining the road to the Rohtang numbered shops offered the hire of retro ski clothes and boots, fur coats and balaclava hats. Excited Indian tourists from the plains who had never experienced cold temperatures before could come here and touch snow for the first time in their lives. Our experience of passes before now had been of near isolation, the arrival at the top marked by flapping prayer flags. Now we were greeted by hundreds of excited people on a thin strip of land that was covered in snow. They were sledging, riding snowmobiles, having snowball fights and in some cases trying to ski. It was all very surreal and incredibly sensational. The prayer flags were barely noticeable.

Riding the twisting mountain roads covered in slippery mud, potholed, single laned and lacking in protective barriers (for the most part) is incredibly thrilling. Oncoming traffic, nippy tourist jeeps and groaning trucks add to the dangers when these fellow road users lack respect for a mere two wheeler. Concentration is key but there is always the temptation to try and snatch a view of ones surroundings, we eliminated this as much as possible with frequent vista stops where we looked at chasms above and below us, snaking valleys and rocky outcrops. We felt so small and insignificant amongst natural skyscrapers.

The river crossings were exciting and also took some nerve. K was great and did really well for someone who has a sensibility gene. I am a little jealous that she rode both of the bikes across in the worst instances. We had reasoned though that her extra leg length and upper body strength carried less risk than myself making any attempt and I reassured myself thus. We needed to minimise the risk as much as possible because being stranded especially without any camping equipment in a deserted valley was not our idea of fun but attempting the river crossings was :-)

It was horrifying though to see the driver of the Mahindra vehicle end up so close to the edge of the road and to cause the wire support that held the road up to give way. We really did try to help them out but they were making the situation a lot worse. The driver had no clutch control, the vehicle was smoking and without a tow any effort was now wasted due to the worsened condition of the situation. We had to focus on ourselves eventually and to think of our own needs by helping the driver of the goods vehicle we did not want to get ourselves into any danger. We heaved and heaved in order to facilitate the upward motion of the pick up but it was all in vain.

By now I was wet up to my knees from snow melt and I had given up hopping from one rock to the other to keep any more water out of my boots. When the Enfield tipped in the water we were naturally concerned about whether it would start and what this implied - we were far away from any towns or villages or anywhere to stay. Once safe and on dry land we did not hesitate in starting it up, we wanted to know what we were dealing with and also hoping that quicker action would maybe help to clear out any water a little better. We were lucky and overjoyed when the Enfield ticked over. My bike was across with less trauma and we cheered and jumped for joy when we had achieved this success. We had done so well by working as a team.

We were saddened but amazed when we reached the second crossing. We knew that we could not realistically continue. The current crossing the road was far to strong and the drop down the other side was far to deep. Perhaps if we had back up then maybe we would have attempted it but with the two of us it was far to dangerous. We observed the water gushing down from the waterfall above us for a while and were in awe at the immensity of it. A local man arrived on the scene with his three pack mules and was across the water before we even had chance to work out how. Still, we knew that there was no way that the Enfield would make it. Now with nightfall approaching we had to get to somewhere safe. Agreeably we decided that riding the road that we knew was our best bet and we focused on getting ourselves back to Manali.

Riding down twisty mountain roads in the dark in thick cloud is a challenge. It had been raining since we were last on the Rotang and now mud that was previously a little wet in places was now covering most of the road and would cause the bikes to fishtail. Where before the road had been busy it was now a lonely place. We both worked hard at keeping the bikes upright, breaking gently and being a lot less aggressive on the berms. It was cold, K had been dipped in the river earlier and was really feeling the bite. Those three hours were exceptional but we were both focused and did what we needed to do in order to get back to a safe haven. We found that we had a lot of strength inside and despite not reaching our goal we knew that we had achieved much when we arrived back safely in Manali.

The fun with twowheelswhirled never ceases. We are good at adapting and were not deterred in seeking further adventure. Approaching Spiti from a clockwise direction was evidently out of the question but there was always the opportunity to go anticlockwise. The prospect of reaching a land that was once part of Tibet which still housed Gompas (monasteries) and Tibetan artifacts that had not been destroyed in any cultural revolution was far too enticing to ignore. Another route was planned and we again beamed with joy at the prospect of even more inspiring landscape in the least inhabited valleys and mountain passes. We left Manali full of excitement, we were feeling great and rode really well. K found the turn off for the state highway that would lead us to the Jalori pass. We skipped passed the stones that were semi blocking the road as well as a large boulder that would prevent any large vehicles from passing through.

The event in the quicksand...

K was crying out to me to stop where I was, that she was sinking in the mud. The road from where I was looked as though it was covered in only a thin layer of mud and when I heard K shouting out to me I went into a 'stay calm but act quickly' mode. I checked the surface where my bike was and seeing that it was drier decided that it would be OK to park it up there. K shouted to me to find a branch. I ran around in gloopy mud trying to act quickly but there was nothing to be seen. She was already pulling her bag off the back of the Enfield when I got back to her with a rock to put under the exhaust pipe.

The bike was still sinking and we did not know how deep it would go. When it stopped we were relieved a little but were still unsure of whether there was still a risk of it sinking any more. Frustratingly the gloopy silt/sand was sucking at our boots, our ankles were embedded above the eighth eyelet and it took a lot of force to pull ones leg out. With both feet stuck in the mud we both found ourselves falling back unbalanced onto our arses. Everything was happening quickly and after the initial shock we began to think of a long term strategy. Considering the, ahem, sticky situation that we were in we both remained reasonably calm. We knew that there would be no help and that we had to get out of this ourselves.

We did not have a shovel or a rope. The Enfield was full of fuel and was incredibly heavy to move. We dug with our bare hands at the mud so that we could make drainage channels to rid the area of as much water as possible and to harden up the surface so that the bike would have more support. We worked together, rather frantically, it had started to rain a little and did not know what to expect, any more water would get us into, ahem, deeper trouble. We had placed rocks in the mud in order to give us stepping stones to stand on where we would not sink, this helped immensely. We scraped, dug, pushed, clawed and did everything that we could to drain the water away. No sooner had we cleared silt though it would come back.

It was a lot of hard work. Every now and then we would joke to each other and laugh, I cannot remember what we said exactly but I remember thinking how amazing it was that we were just dealing with the problem and being positive. We had gotten ourselves into this mess and we would have to get ourselves out. We were so happy when we found some tarmac under the bike and discovered that the bike could sink no more. We cleared away all of the sand and mud from under the engine and got it onto the centre stand. K got the bike started, we were immensely happy, we had created a slope of rock by the front wheel and with me pushing the bike she road it up onto the drier part of the mud.

The bike was facing the wrong way, however and we needed to get it 180'd, there was no where in view that was definitely solid so we found as drier part as possible and pushed the bike into a 5 point turn. We had almost rotated it 90 degrees when it started to sink again. We were higher than before and there was no telling how deep it would go. I grabbed a rock to squeeze under the front wheel which helped only a little. The bike did eventually stop but we were faced with going through the process again but this time with the rear wheel close to the river bank edge.

I have to admit that I was in despair. Again we were digging and creating channels to clear the water into the river but I was tired. My tendons were really hurting in my right forearm, I could hardly move my fingers and I felt incredibly fatigued. The adrenaline that must have kept me working so hard previously had run out. For a while I wanted to throw dirt at something out of desperation but I kept this feeling inside and did not express it knowing that such display of emotion would not help. I held back tears that were welling up, I felt useless because I was not feeling very strong and had no energy. I had no choice though, I would have to help, K could not do this on her own.

As I massaged my tendons I watched mud crumble into the water due to the change in pressure on the surface of the riverbank. It was a little worrying but I did not foresee it reaching back as far as the bike. We both ate a few biscuits and then got back to work. I thought of primitive man using rocks as tools and I found myself the perfect shaped digging stone. I was feeling much better and a lot less pathetic. K was great when I was going through this weak phase and she kept telling me that we could do it.

It worked, we worked. We had drained the area and cleared mud away from around the wheels and from under the engine. Working together we rotated the bars (hard to do when the wheel is surrounded by gloopy silt) and lifted the back end to rotate the bike a few degrees towards the direction that we needed. We continued this process a few times, digging, lifting the front end and rotating until we eventually had the bike facing the right way. K was so strong, (thanks Mrs C for feeding her so well when she was young) I was using all the strength that I could muster to help her lift the bike but my contribution must have been marginal. Lifting an Enfield with a full tank is not easy especially on a soft surface.

Acting rapidly we pushed the bike onto an area that we knew was firmer but we did not know how much time we had should it decide to get soft on us. I ran forward and surveyed the route and told K to ride the bike fast, all the way back to the tarmac without stopping. She did a great job as there were a few hazards in the way. I ran behind as the rear wheel sprayed mud and silt back. I watched her fishtail, she had to stay to the side that was closest to the water and I was naturally concerned but there was no problem on her part.

We were overjoyed.

The Pulsar was easy to get back, it had not sunk but it was a lot more skittish on the silt, I was worried when it appeared as though K was heading towards the water!

We did not want to hang around the tragic spot. We hugged one another and had a little celebration but we wanted to get away. We had worked for about three hours, I would have cried out of happiness and relief but I was too tired. Some riders on a moped confirmed that the road was impassable but they were the only people that we saw on this side of the river. Some people waved and beeped their car/ motorbike horns at us from the opposite shore, I felt that they were mocking us. One man even sat and watched us for a long time from his jeep but he did not motion whether we needed help. When he saw that we were OK and the show was obviously over he just drove away. I was till shaking, the whole thing had taken a lot out of me.

We have both spent the last few days recovering feeling sore all over and could hardly move when we woke up yesterday morning. It was unbelievable what had happened to us. We decided that we should give up our adventurous ideas and stay safe. We had less time for error now that our flight was within a week or so. So here we are safe and sound in McLeod Ganj.

Thanks for reading :-)