Trip Stats:
Progress: 111.8 km
Time: 07:10:49
Avg. Speed: 15.6 km/hr


The bike and gear drying out in the sun

Another Enfield going through the washout.

Sand was constant on todays trip, if not in the center of the road then always at the sides.

Another lovely section, large rocked loose gravel, leading to a wooden bridge, and on to more gravel...the whole day was like this!

The bike finally gave up the ghost. This is a photo from the village with a big zoom lens shooting down the 2+ km where it died.

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2003-05-17 - Recong Peo -> Nako Lake (Day 32)

Today packed such a full set of emotions I hardly know where to start. I thought about that phrase and think its more appropriate then anything else in this day while filled with "stuff" that happened, mainly brought out emotions - desolation, isolation, helplessness, despair, desperation - you can already tell it wasn't one of my best days.

The day started out with another wonderful sunrise over the peak and Peter and I had another breakfast out soaking up the sunshine, and idly chatting. Peter let earlier then I in that he had booked a taxi to Nako lake and I was following along behind on the motorcycle. Peter's expectation was that the trip should be about 4 hours for him, and I'd be along in about 6 hours. I pack up and bid farewell to the hotel guys and off I go down the road.

The Enfield immediately starts giving me the horrible choking sound that I had gone through the day before, not as bad as yesterday but still worrisome. I take a second to adjust the carburetor and it seems to improve a bit and I ride it down the mountain, out of Recong Peo and down to the gas station at the bottom of the hill. The bike is running rough enough to keep me concentrating on it but I decide that going back probably won't help much as the mechanic had seen it the night before and today is a holiday and they probably aren't open.

I make it about 30 minutes beyond Recong Peo and come to a wide washed out section of road with fresh glacier water running across it fast and deep enough that I can't see the road beneath. I start across but the bottom is just loose gravel washed down with the water and large stones. I bounce on a few of the stones underwater, one catches me wrong and I go down. The water is surging up the sides of the saddlebags which is my highest concern as the one in the water is the one with the notebook. As I go down two trucks pull up at the side I just started at with about 20 young guys in the back of each of them. I yell and call from help as I can't lift the bike against the current but everyone just sits and watches me try to hold the bike out of the water. This gets a little ridiculous as the trucks just sit there since I'm blocking the road, but I'm not getting anywhere until someone comes to help. One young man pulls off his shoes and jumps in to what sounds like the derision of everyone else. He helps me pull it up and we push it a bit to the side but the bike is still hard to walk through the water, and I ask to stop for a second. The young man just runs off at that point and jumps back in the truck which has enough room to get by now. So off the two trucks go leaving me with a bike up, but still standing in the water. I somehow manage to start the thing and drive it out of the washout and back onto the road. Everything is soaked but not nearly as bad as I imagined. Past experience has been that if I drop the bike it's almost always on the left side, so I was being smart and put the laptop on the right. Well with the direction I was going on the road, the right side was the one getting all the water. I open the box to find a puddle at the bottom and the first-aid kit Peter gave me soaked (again) but the laptop bag only slightly damp. My sleeping bag got a bit wet but the laptop was what was important. The camera bag has stayed out of the rain and it looks like I got lucky again. I pull everything out there by the side of the road and just sit on the helmet and dry myself out and get my nerves back. I get the pleasure of watching another Enfield try to go through the washout - they make it but just barely, they were wobbling really bad and hit sunken stones as well.

Back on the bike I continue on and the country and the roads are getting worse. To top it, the bike is running rougher and rougher. The road takes priority and I keep my eyes on it. There is sand consistently on both sides of the road now, and often there are patches across the road. The roads are getting worse as well in terms of potholes, rocks stone across the road and sections of just loose gravel which is horrible to drive on. In short, it's the worst possible roads one could imagine to be on a motorcycle on. I'm only able to go about 30km / hr due to the roads which is pretty slow. The traffic has thinned out a bit which is a blessing, but every so often the trucks will come out and surprise me which is also hard on the nerves. Turning a blind curve I get a jeep like this clearly doing more 50km / hr and not using his horn around the curves, we come face to face with each other and both slam the breaks. He leaves a 15 ft. skid mark on the pavement and I can hear his tires and the jeep behind him squeal. Of course this all happens in an ugly blur. I go to the side to avoid him and in a repeat of the scene with the trucks; the bike hits the sand on the side of the road and slides out from under me leaving me sliding on the side of the road. The jeeps miss the bike and these guys are nice enough to at least help me get the bike up and completely out of the road. I've done a little more damage this time taking some skin off my hands and legs but overall another crash I'll be able to walk away from. The jeeps leave as soon as they see I'll live leaving me still shaking by the side of the road. I sit down on the helmet again and try to calm my nerves back down.

Back up again I try to start the bike and its getting worse. It takes a good 15 minutes to get it to reluctantly sputter to life. The roughness of the engine has just increased as the day is going along and it's getting to the point where I'm seriously worried. If I let the revolutions drop at all the engine sputters and stops. Even with the revolutions up, I have it die on me on the road a couple of times which is a very scary process of trying to restart it while its rolling which opens me up to the risk of the wheels skidding on the sand as they lock and try to turn the engine. Once or twice that doesn't work and I'm stuck by the side of the road. The bike is really getting hard to start with a stop meaning at least 10 minutes of kicking to get it started again.

The sun is getting low and the engine is getting worse. The country has become so desolate that there aren¡¦t even huts around any more. I stop at a police check post as the engine gets so bad that I'd rather be stuck in this little 2 person police stop if it dies completely. I pull out the shop manual and the tools and proceed to do everything I can think of; I clean the gas filter, change the spark plug which is coal black, check the points and timing and pack it back up. Of course, somehow people have just come out of the woodwork since I stopped with about 10 guys sticking their hands in everything I'm trying to do. The cops even do their bit by coming over making me get my passport out and logging it in their notebook. I'm finally out of ideas as I've done everything the shop manual has suggested exchange change the gas which may have got water in it - but there isn't a fuel pump for another 30 km. (that's about an hour and a half away folks!) The cops tell me there is a mechanic about 18km away and I'm hoping I'll be able to hobble there.

I start the bike and pull out and in the process hit another stone which throws me to the side and with the suspension as it is when the bike is fully loaded, I'm thrown on the ground again as the bike falls over. This one hurts more as the bike stand crushes my foot as the bike pins me to the ground. This time I've broken the clutch ever, the headlight and made myself even angrier. Fortunately I have a replacement headlight bulb, though no glass and clutch lever and spend the next 20 minutes changing them to the amusement of those crowded around.

I push off again and the bike is positively croaking. Just barely staying running with a sputter in every four chugs. The country gets even more desolate with NOTHING around - no cars, no huts nothing. It's getting close to 5:00pm and I'm getting really scared about being out here alone. There isn't even anything to make a fire from - no brush, no trees nothing but rocks on either side of me. I'm at 11,000feet and I know its going to get really cold. Of course I'm thinking of everything I don't have with me at the moment - food, water, stove, a tent - its going to be a mess if I'm caught out here in the dark. On the other hand, there is nowhere to stop, not even a hut to beg for some bread and a bed from.

The bike keeps limping and the kilometers click away. I see a sign for Nako Lake which takes me up to a completely loose stone path which is the worst so far. The bike is all over the road going from stone to stone and sputtering as if it is on its last legs. I'm having to keep the engine up at 5-6,000 RPM to just have the slightest hope of having it keep going.

The signs say Nako is 8km, and I can see a village in the distance and I just keep praying the bike will make it. At the 6km mark it finally gives up the ghost and this seems for good. I kick it for 45 minutes till the sun is just a few minutes from setting and finally have to give up. Its dead and I'm still 2 km from the village with all my luggage, and a bad leg. Lovely, still a lot to worry about.

I throw the side bags behind a bolder and carry the photo bag, computer and backpack up the road. Only on kilometer down the road, I'm quite winded (at 12,000 ft. now), tired and my legs are hurting. I hear the first car I've seen in an hour coming up the path. I flag them down and they pass me by, I simply can't believe this. I'm a completely loaded down foreigner walking on the road at sunset by myself and the guy doesn't think I need some help? I start screaming at him, and the jeep pulls over. I ask to be taken to the village and ask if he would take me there. He agrees and I tell him that I have luggage 1km back, would he take me back to get it before we go to the village. He gives it some thought and comes back with, "no, later." Oh lovely. Well frankly I can't argue as I'm too winded and climb in the back of the jeep with two women who are sitting in the back. We get up to the village- which happens to be a different one from the one I was heading for, and the first thing I hear is Peter yelling out a hail. Well that's one good thing, I stumble over to him with the bags and just dump them on him with a sentence about the day being a disaster and having to go get my bags.

I go back to the driver and ask him to take me back; his first response is 50 rupees. Lovely. Ok, fine I say and we drive back down the same path we just came up and I retrieve the bags. While not happy with this guy, I'm still desperate for a way out so I ask if he would take my bike to the mechanic which he says yes, he could do that for the right price. Oh, this is getting worse , "ok, hell with it" I ask if he would take me back to civilization, back to Shimla. He says 5,000 rupees and I cringe a bit but say I'll consider it. We make it back to the guest house where Peter is staying and I collapse into the restaurant chair. This counts as the last straw and I'm wiped out. Dinner comes but I'm in a fog which I hope will clear tomorrow but for now ¡V this has been one of the most stressful and lest enjoyable days I've ever had.

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