On my first night sleep was a stranger - I read a book, listened to music and sat outside watching the moon throw a soft light on the mountains. A headache reminded me that I've probably got mild altitude sickness. It seemed like about 3am when I finally fell into a restless slumber but, at sunrise, a sound like an animal being slaughtered made me jump out of bed. Through the window I could see a donkey being attacked by 5 dogs. The donkey rotated and kicked like a martial artist and the dogs eventually slunk away like a bunch of hyenas. The backdrop to this drama is the incredible sight of sunrise on the Himalayas. Snow clad mountains, golden in the morning sun behind a brown lunar landscape of ochre mountains folded and wrinkled like the skin of a huge animal. The 9 storey Leh Palace clung onto the hillside above the Tibetan-style buildings huddled together on the plain below. I was finally living a moment I've been dreaming about for a long time.
After a bottle of water and chai my headache faded. The Padma guest house is owned by a Ladakh family of buddhists who wear traditional robes and sit next to their lush vegetable garden with prayer wheels and a smile. 80% of the 25,000 people living in Leh are Buddhists.
I decided my first task was to assemble the bike and was devastated when I couldn't find my seat tube and back carrier clamp. I distinctly remember putting it in the box in the box at home but it's not here. There's a hole in the side of the box and there's a possibility that it escaped through that exit. I noticed that when I picked the bike up in Delhi there was new tape on the top. There's a possibility that the Malaysians opened the box. Apart from that I dont know. Of course it isn't just a seat post clamp - it holds the rear carrier also. I sat down and felt stunned for a while until self-motivation kicked in. There's only one solution - try and improvise.
I spent most of the day wandering through bazaars and alleyways. I found the only bicycle repair man in Leh. His workshop was about the size of my garden shed, mud walls, rusty old bikes, hammers and cold chisels and a couple of scruffy sleeping dogs. His full moon Tibetan face is wrinkled like an unmade bed - it's nodding from side to side and he waves his arms in a gesture that says it's too difficult. I walked down to the moto markets where mechanical accessories are traded but it's bedlam; crowds of people around makeshift stalls and thousands of prayer flags adding a colour to the dusty scene. Suddenly three young Indian men started talking to me about bicycles. They were on holidays in Leh and happy to help. First stop was a welding workshop which resembled a village blacksmiths with similar tools of trade. We trawled the trade shops in the area with much arm waving and scratching of heads, laughing, pointing and discussion but with no solution. A mountain bike seat clamp is too small to fit the larger diameter tubing on my bike. We bought a couple of heavy duty hose clips, wrapped tape around the frame and I cringed as I added this accessory to the Moulton bicycle. One part of the problem is solved and the rear bag will have to be joined using zip ties and rope.
I cycled around with just the front panniers today - squalls of rain. Getting a pass to cycle into a restricted zone tomorrow. I rode up to the palace and climbed a few hills today but my breathing is still a bit restricted. Driving here is erratic and assertive and ... crazy.
I had shower as cold as a mountain stream this morning and when I picked the deoderant up, the ball shot across the room and bounced off the wall.
Amazing what high altitude can do.
After a bottle of water and chai my headache faded. The Padma guest house is owned by a Ladakh family of buddhists who wear traditional robes and sit next to their lush vegetable garden with prayer wheels and a smile. 80% of the 25,000 people living in Leh are Buddhists.
I decided my first task was to assemble the bike and was devastated when I couldn't find my seat tube and back carrier clamp. I distinctly remember putting it in the box in the box at home but it's not here. There's a hole in the side of the box and there's a possibility that it escaped through that exit. I noticed that when I picked the bike up in Delhi there was new tape on the top. There's a possibility that the Malaysians opened the box. Apart from that I dont know. Of course it isn't just a seat post clamp - it holds the rear carrier also. I sat down and felt stunned for a while until self-motivation kicked in. There's only one solution - try and improvise.
I spent most of the day wandering through bazaars and alleyways. I found the only bicycle repair man in Leh. His workshop was about the size of my garden shed, mud walls, rusty old bikes, hammers and cold chisels and a couple of scruffy sleeping dogs. His full moon Tibetan face is wrinkled like an unmade bed - it's nodding from side to side and he waves his arms in a gesture that says it's too difficult. I walked down to the moto markets where mechanical accessories are traded but it's bedlam; crowds of people around makeshift stalls and thousands of prayer flags adding a colour to the dusty scene. Suddenly three young Indian men started talking to me about bicycles. They were on holidays in Leh and happy to help. First stop was a welding workshop which resembled a village blacksmiths with similar tools of trade. We trawled the trade shops in the area with much arm waving and scratching of heads, laughing, pointing and discussion but with no solution. A mountain bike seat clamp is too small to fit the larger diameter tubing on my bike. We bought a couple of heavy duty hose clips, wrapped tape around the frame and I cringed as I added this accessory to the Moulton bicycle. One part of the problem is solved and the rear bag will have to be joined using zip ties and rope.
I cycled around with just the front panniers today - squalls of rain. Getting a pass to cycle into a restricted zone tomorrow. I rode up to the palace and climbed a few hills today but my breathing is still a bit restricted. Driving here is erratic and assertive and ... crazy.
I had shower as cold as a mountain stream this morning and when I picked the deoderant up, the ball shot across the room and bounced off the wall.
Amazing what high altitude can do.
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