Raid Report - Part Two
Day Five
At 5am we all come alive in our barrack room. Washing and
brushing is outside, water from an old oil drum positioned
above a fire to stop the water freezing. I don't bother with
the washing bit. It's bitterly cold, but not so bad as it could
be, not so bad as it will be at around 7.30 when we climb
over Baralacha La (4890m) on the day's first competitive
stage, which starts at the army base and runs for around
60km to the nothing place of Lingti.
The cars preceding Rocky and I have broken the ice on the
streams, but this is not such a help when they've dragged
water onto the dirt and it has instantly frozen in their tracks.
The vast majority of the stage is tarmac in reasonable
condition and towards the transit camp at Sarchu the road
straightens out and speeds build. There are, however, deep
culverts ready to catch out the unwary... or the wary for that
matter. Hitting one at about 110kph, bottoms the
suspension out, before kicking the back end into the air as it
unloads. All that's to be done is getting arse out of saddle
double-time, gritting teeth, holding on and hoping.
WeÕve been warned about the ice expected on the steel
bridges, but I still go in too hot at Sarchu, crossing just
about the whole span on full lock with a football in my
throat. For some reason the bolts holding this simple
construction together have been inserted from the
underside, meaning inches of threaded steel spikes
protrude. Thankfully my tyres survive and I don't fall onto
the iron maiden.
All this fast road means it's not long before I've made up
Rocky's two-minute, on-the-road headstart and by the
finish line I've gained some three minutes. The rest of the
field are now comfortably behind our two-horse race.
Next comes a long transport stage across a huge, and
hugely stunning high-level plain. At the end of this is the
loftiest point of the Leh route, Tanglang La, claimed to be
the second highest road in the world at 5328m. At the
stage's start point, a couple of kilometres before the road
begins to climb up to the pass, there's a long wait in a cold
wind. But things look even worse ahead as dark clouds
gather over Tanglang, promising snow.
Tales of the Raid being snowed to a halt a few years back
have got me a bit twitchy and despite needing this 40km
stage to pull back some time, there's a part of me secretly
hoping it would be cancelled. A radio report from up top
suggests there's some light snow, but not enough to stop
the stage, so off we go, this time me starting ahead of
Rocky despite him being ahead in the bigger picture.
It's damn cold, with some light snow falling and at the pass'
summit the rough ground is hard and white with frost. Again
there's ice, but in most places the power is getting to
ground surprisingly well. On Tanglang's downside to Rumtse
the road is fast and wide, again suiting the Yamaha and I'm
able to brake into corners with a fair amount of vigour on
the front Metzeler. I get to the line and watch watch. Rocky
comes in some three and a half minutes behind me, so I've
made around a minute and a half. Things are going to plan
and I expect to be able to haul in Rocky's now six-minute
lead tomorrow.
The last transport stage to Leh should be easy going, and is
until I'm stopped by an angry mob blocking the road. Running first on the road, ahead of the cars, I find myself
surrounded, being met with some aggression and don't
understand why I'm the subject of the crowd's ire. There are
police wielding sticks and telling me to drive on through the
crowd, but I'm not up for ploughing old ladies over. I ask the
police not to hit the people, the people not to hit me and
hope I'm not about to get the shit kicked out of me by a
band of Buddhists. When they start to pull me off the bike I
feel I've no choice but to go and the assemblage parts to let
me through with only some token blows.
I'd assumed I'd committed some terrible sacrilege. Perhaps
some grand-master monk had been disturbed on his
deathbed. What awful act had I inadvertently committed? I
had been part of an event that had made their bus late...
More arse-ache was to come when I arrived at the Leh finish,
only to be told to bugger off back out of town until the
minister of inconvenience was in place to receive us arriving
at neat minute intervals. My next job was also to wait. To
wait around three hours for Kevin and Koos to turn up in
the Land Rover with my replacement rear tyre, which I
changed in roadside darkness near a garage with an airline.
My luggage, however, was in yet another vehicle, staying a a
different hotel and by the time I'd tracked it down, had a
shower etc, it was getting on in the evening. Nonetheless,
my new roommate, 'Little Nitin,' a fiend called Shetty and I
went to one of my old Leh haunts for dinner and a bottle of
beer. This proved to be very pleasant, but the food
poisoning that followed was anything but.
More tomorrow.
Damon
At 5am we all come alive in our barrack room. Washing and
brushing is outside, water from an old oil drum positioned
above a fire to stop the water freezing. I don't bother with
the washing bit. It's bitterly cold, but not so bad as it could
be, not so bad as it will be at around 7.30 when we climb
over Baralacha La (4890m) on the day's first competitive
stage, which starts at the army base and runs for around
60km to the nothing place of Lingti.
The cars preceding Rocky and I have broken the ice on the
streams, but this is not such a help when they've dragged
water onto the dirt and it has instantly frozen in their tracks.
The vast majority of the stage is tarmac in reasonable
condition and towards the transit camp at Sarchu the road
straightens out and speeds build. There are, however, deep
culverts ready to catch out the unwary... or the wary for that
matter. Hitting one at about 110kph, bottoms the
suspension out, before kicking the back end into the air as it
unloads. All that's to be done is getting arse out of saddle
double-time, gritting teeth, holding on and hoping.
WeÕve been warned about the ice expected on the steel
bridges, but I still go in too hot at Sarchu, crossing just
about the whole span on full lock with a football in my
throat. For some reason the bolts holding this simple
construction together have been inserted from the
underside, meaning inches of threaded steel spikes
protrude. Thankfully my tyres survive and I don't fall onto
the iron maiden.
All this fast road means it's not long before I've made up
Rocky's two-minute, on-the-road headstart and by the
finish line I've gained some three minutes. The rest of the
field are now comfortably behind our two-horse race.
Next comes a long transport stage across a huge, and
hugely stunning high-level plain. At the end of this is the
loftiest point of the Leh route, Tanglang La, claimed to be
the second highest road in the world at 5328m. At the
stage's start point, a couple of kilometres before the road
begins to climb up to the pass, there's a long wait in a cold
wind. But things look even worse ahead as dark clouds
gather over Tanglang, promising snow.
Tales of the Raid being snowed to a halt a few years back
have got me a bit twitchy and despite needing this 40km
stage to pull back some time, there's a part of me secretly
hoping it would be cancelled. A radio report from up top
suggests there's some light snow, but not enough to stop
the stage, so off we go, this time me starting ahead of
Rocky despite him being ahead in the bigger picture.
It's damn cold, with some light snow falling and at the pass'
summit the rough ground is hard and white with frost. Again
there's ice, but in most places the power is getting to
ground surprisingly well. On Tanglang's downside to Rumtse
the road is fast and wide, again suiting the Yamaha and I'm
able to brake into corners with a fair amount of vigour on
the front Metzeler. I get to the line and watch watch. Rocky
comes in some three and a half minutes behind me, so I've
made around a minute and a half. Things are going to plan
and I expect to be able to haul in Rocky's now six-minute
lead tomorrow.
The last transport stage to Leh should be easy going, and is
until I'm stopped by an angry mob blocking the road. Running first on the road, ahead of the cars, I find myself
surrounded, being met with some aggression and don't
understand why I'm the subject of the crowd's ire. There are
police wielding sticks and telling me to drive on through the
crowd, but I'm not up for ploughing old ladies over. I ask the
police not to hit the people, the people not to hit me and
hope I'm not about to get the shit kicked out of me by a
band of Buddhists. When they start to pull me off the bike I
feel I've no choice but to go and the assemblage parts to let
me through with only some token blows.
I'd assumed I'd committed some terrible sacrilege. Perhaps
some grand-master monk had been disturbed on his
deathbed. What awful act had I inadvertently committed? I
had been part of an event that had made their bus late...
More arse-ache was to come when I arrived at the Leh finish,
only to be told to bugger off back out of town until the
minister of inconvenience was in place to receive us arriving
at neat minute intervals. My next job was also to wait. To
wait around three hours for Kevin and Koos to turn up in
the Land Rover with my replacement rear tyre, which I
changed in roadside darkness near a garage with an airline.
My luggage, however, was in yet another vehicle, staying a a
different hotel and by the time I'd tracked it down, had a
shower etc, it was getting on in the evening. Nonetheless,
my new roommate, 'Little Nitin,' a fiend called Shetty and I
went to one of my old Leh haunts for dinner and a bottle of
beer. This proved to be very pleasant, but the food
poisoning that followed was anything but.
More tomorrow.
Damon
