Day 11: Elevation

Okay I take back what I said about happily grating my prostate into a fine dust. It was definitely bothering me quite a bit last night and I had a bad sleep once again. Also people were like setting off fireworks and being loud as heck all night even though I thought I’d found a relatively secluded camping spot. I’m still in high spirits but two rough sleep nights in a row will get to a man. Some of the hardest climbing will be today as I enter the elevated Tibetan plateau and I need to put out the raging fire burning in my prostate. It’s really a terrible feeling, and it makes my toes sting too for some odd reason. I tilted the seat down and tried it out, it’s actually not so bad. Yes there’s a bit more pressure on my hands, but I read that this is an ideal configuration for climbing. Now the weight is mostly on my sit bones and not on my perineum or balls at all, so this should reduce the urethral striction I’m experiencing and if I keep good posture and technique I can put most of my weight on the pedals like a real cyclist. We will see by end of day if this is effective in alleviating my symptoms. I had a bit of panic last night toying with the idea that if I can’t resolve the prostatitis I will have to return home a failure, tail between the legs and all. People will sneer at me and say “so how did that spiritual journey go” and I’ll counter “incredibly efficient, I found myself almost immediately”. But I’m going to fight it out for now. There are some bike shops in Leh, another 300 something kilometers from here, and I could maybe chance upon a more cushioned bike seat with a middle slot that could give my nether regions the comforts they deserve. But even sitting at breakfast right now I can feel that pelvic floor stinging, telling me I haven’t been a good steward to it. It’s okay prostate baby, just stick it out with me just a little longer and I promise there are greener pastures ahead. We have to hope. We have to believe. Perhaps I will meet a wise buddhist sage up in the plateau who will coach me to use my mental concentration to heal my prostate. 

A fun little game I’ve been playing to keep myself entertained and take photos is going up to people asking them to hold my bike for a second and then taking a picture of them. It typically yields fun results and an amicable conversation so I think I’m going to stick with it. The photos of just my bike are starting to really bore me. 

The day is done. I’m in my tent having a panic attack because the wind is ferocious. I think I just forgot what it’s like to be in a windy tent because I checked the weather and it’s only 5mph. It feels like 30mph in this tent I swear. The internet told me the tent should be fine and that I’m being a little bitch, so I’ll take solace in that. I just really hope that tonight I’ll find a way to get some decent sleep. I’m far too sensitive to tent noises. This time I picked a more isolated spot but it’s right off the road with a thick barrier of trees protecting me. If only the trees ran perpendicular as well to offer a wind shield. I confess I put myself in this position by choosing a more photogenic spot out in the open. The photos are getting to my head. This is also the first time that I chose my own camp spot, so I suppose it’s fitting that I chose a not so ideal one. In my defense I was losing light and put it up with just minutes to spare. Still don’t have that replacement head lamp of course. 

But enough of my kvetching about wind and headlamps, today was a magnificent, dare I say, stupendous day!! Following a yumtacular brekkie of Kashmiri roti with eggs and spicy seasoned lamb, it was time to set off on my heroic quest. A young Malaysian man was staying at the hotel where I ate and he just couldn’t believe I was biking to Leh and insisted on taking photos with me. This happens fairly often and I love it. Who needs to be a celebrity? Just get a bike and go somewhere mountainous. The road before me is nothing but uphill. It’s at a pretty manageable grade and I’m really loving it. I’m in another majestic valley, coasting parallel to a roaring stream, what’s not to like? Then I see it. The Zojila pass. A switchbacking dust cloud of diesel trucks and horror. I’d been expecting it. My friend Asif told me he’s only ever walked his bike up it because it’s so steep and dusty and narrow and dangerous. I’m proud to say I tackled the damned thing, dismounting briefly only for water and essential photography. But I’ll tell you, it took just about everything I had. The thing was a monster. First of all, instead of paving it some genius decided to tile it with bricks making it bumpy and murdering my asshole every time my groin jumped off the seat, which was always. But guess what, and I know it’s the question on everyones mind: am I experiencing prostatitis right now? Only a little bit! I don’t want to pop champagne just yet, sometimes it has a late onset, but the seat tilt thing may just have worked. I still murdered my ass today. My ass got pounded so hard. But I kept my perineum and important reproductive organs out of harms way, so my pee is coming out alright and there’s no stinging at the moment. This whole bike trip thing might actually work out. Anyway, the pass was brutal. Many times I had to drop all the way to my lowest gear, which is a scary place to be. It’s reassuring to know you’ve always got another bullet in the chamber. And I went slow too. I went real slow. And the vehicles were merciless. Most of them were super stoked to see me literally busting ass, waving and thumbs upping and all, but they were also honking at me like crazy. And I was often on the edge side of the cliff. There’s no protection or anything, just a sheer drop. And not only is it a tight squeeze for two cars to pass each other, but motherfuckers are playing the overtake game all over the place like it’s cute. So when you’re just a few feet away from dropping into the abyss navigating a blind curve and a trucks horn starts blaring at you from behind and there’s another guy in a van trying to squeeze past the truck and he’s honking too and then there’s 2 more trucks coming from the other direction and of course they’re honking and a motorcycle brigade flanking it and they all like to use their horns too, it takes every inch of will and self preservation not to politely get out of everyones way and go careening off the edge to your demise. But I held steady and strong. I’ve learned to tune out these horns, it’s just their way of saying hello there I’ll be coming along shortly please don’t unexpectedly swerve into the road and make me kill you. 

So I made it up the pass. Once I got into the elevated valley that gave way I was completely beat. I was a dead man. I had no water left and my mouth was all dry and salty but then the good lord graced me with a perfectly positioned glacial run off pipe that I gladly filled my bottles up and bathed my face in. I sat on a rock and tried to gather my strength, I wasn’t even certain I was done climbing yet. I watched a caravan of maybe 50 Indian army trucks go by. Why the hell do they need to have so many soldiers up here? After a little more exhaustion I got back on the bike and enjoyed a brief downhill to an area where a few tents were serving tourists tea and noodles. There I met a gaggle of Gujaratis who couldn’t take enough selfies with me or stop availing me with details about how they have cousins and uncles living in Texas and Michigan and California. It was really a lot to process. The noodles and tea were good. It was exactly what I needed. With that in my belly I was ready for more. But as fate would have it, my hard work was done. I soon saw a sign telling me I’d reached the Gateway to Ladakh. The road turned into a dusty rocky hard scrabble and it was all downhill. This was pretty fun but I’d never pushed my bike this hard before and was worried the whole time I was gunning it that I could puncture a tire or break a spoke or one of my panniers might come flying loose. I also was worried that this would be Ladakh’s roads the entire way. Wrong on all counts! After some minutes of choking on dust the road turned into perfect pavement, and I was in paradise. Kashmir’s lush green turned into a barren yet picturesque landscape evoking the American west. I don’t typically love deserts but this was magnificent and serene and awe inspiring and vast. And quiet! There was way less traffic and it felt like I had the road to myself most of the time, and that is simply unheard of in the nation of India. And then I got to have a proper descent. My first real descent since Europe 8 years ago. And it was delicious. My body remembered exactly how to take the curves, foot down opposite lean in side, getting just close enough to the ground to maintain speed without falling. I cried because it was such a beautiful moment. I put many cars in my rear view during that descent and it felt amazing. And the fun didn’t end there. The switchbacks took me into yet another gorgeous valley following a roaring stream, this time downhill. And the lord sent me one of the finest tail winds I’ve ever ridden, the same tail wind of course that’s currently battering my tent away. What followed was effortless magic and joy, peak cycling perfection. I was going fast. I was flying. I was alive and screaming blessings in my exaltation. What could be better than this feeling? I was chewing kilometers and I was seeing the most wonderful things. In very little time I conquered the 25km to Dras where I wolfed down dinner and found this hilltop wind magnet campsite. The battle with my own mind to accept the gentle touch of sleep and tune out the wind may yet prove more difficult than climbing the pass, but I hope not.