4400km & Beyond: Learning to Herd

We have come to the Baspa Valley to both enjoy the grandeur of the mountains and begin to acclimate to higher altitude. We are camping at 2,700m (8,856ft), nearly the height of my hike to Triund in the Dhauladhars just two weeks before. We have climbed out of the lower valley and above the haze of heat raising from the plains. The air is cool and crisp, the sky bright blue.

As we have come to the end of the world, the road stops. We ride as far as we can, then change shoes and hike to 3,500m (11,483ft). Looking down at the last Indian border outpost, nestled between the Baspa river and the mountain side, and up at the ridge of snow-capped mountains towards the Indo-Tibet border, we are giddy in the moment.

Downhills in the Himalayas are a test of skill and endurance. They are long and not for the faint-of-heart. Washboard roads, fallen rock, steep edges, blind corners and towering trucks spewing black exhaust are givens. As morning turns to afternoon, the warmth of the day turn streams into rivers and a once easy crossing can turn tricky. But in the challenge comes delight. Smiles from those working to maintain the roads, thumbs up from passing motorcyclists and the splendor that each new corner reveals create an exhilarating ride.

Then there are the herdsmen and their flock. Sheep, goats, cattle all make up the mix of what you can encounter. They graze their way up and down the mountains under the watchful eye of their canine companions, while the human call to keep moving echoes off the lush hillsides. On the roads, they are another given.

At first I do as the cars, stop in my tracks, turn off my engine. I watch and admire the local traffic. Then I observe Simon and Denise seamlessly enter and weave their way through the sea of animals. I decide to follow. "Oh. Ah. Em." The herd does not part for me the way they have for my cohorts. I am stuck in the middle. "Aaa what do I do?" I shout to the two smiling cyclists who easily navigated to the other side. "Say "Come on" in your deepest voice" replies Simon. Finding the back of my throat and holding my stomach tight, I manage a meagerly deep "Come on." I get a glance from a cow in front on me. "Ok some resonance" I think. So I keep trying to find that deep guttural voice and one by one the sea begins to part and I make my way through. A new skill to add to the cycling repertoire!

06.16.14

Rarang Glacier, Baspa Valley, India

10:24am