Rugged terrain

The ride up to our next camp at a small village called Jibhi higher upon the Himalayan slopes is challenging and all that's on my mind is how to tackle the punishing roads. I ride with A, and we are miles ahead of the rest. We lead in turns and rush through the hills pausing once in a while to catch our breath. I realize how important fitness and good health are and I am glad I can ride like this and take on one slope after the other. The views gradually change as the river begins to look tiny in the gorge below. The hill slopes, some of which are barren, with stunted vegetation are now green and firs appear.

One of our fellow riders carries raisins with him and they turn out to be useful. One a high ledge, where we stop for a couple of snaps, we meet a man travelling down in his car. We exchange stories before he hands over some water and wishes us luck for the tough journey ahead. After a while, A and I notice how the road winds up like a snake to reach the top of a hill and we decide to cut across it, along the hillside. A point to note here, is that the Firefox cycles aren't light especially in comparison to my Cannondale, which has spoilt me a bit, I think. It is great fun, trying to find out way through the trees, the gravel but it slows us down a bit. The rest of the way becomes better because the firs are here. These majestic trees cast their giant shadows on the road and we enjoy the last stretch. By the time we reach camp, the caretakers are not even ready, they had hardly expected anyone to reach so soon.

We rush down to the river to cool off. Unlike the vast open expanse earlier, the river is swifter and narrower here, hurrying over the stones as the conifers watch it from above. Every time we go into the river, I have difficulty leaving. I just want to remain there. To watch, to listen and to feel. By the time we have lunch, a few more of our fellow riders arrive and everyone talks about how challenging the day's ride has been. But I feel fine and would be ready to do it all over again.

In the evening, we walk into what our guide calls a Nature trail. There is a clear "holy" stream flowing through it and rhododendrons appear. Butterflies criss-cross around the leaves and flowers until we reach the waterfall. We spare no time and rush in, but the water falling from a height is heavy. The air just feels different with so much greenery around in the valley. I will remember those little curling leaves that gradually burst open, which can be seen both as an inspiration for a horror movie or the verses in a poem depending on who's looking.

The dinner that follows is a disappointment and trying to compensate for my midday stomach growls the day before and in preparation for the challenging climb to follow, I overeat. It affects me in ways I would not have imagined.