I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’m getting somewhat bored of telling you about my ride to Leh. This doesn’t bode well for my book writing prospects (were there any?), but regardless I’m going to briefly summarize the last couple of days of big trip up into the mountains. It was much more epic than it’s about to sound, but I’m lazy.

So we set out from Bharatpur riding in our newfound foursome. We began to climb a series of neverending switchbacks called the Gata Loops. We climbed and climbed. Bergen pulled away with the purpose of making it all the way to Leh in a single day. So then there were three. I was a few switchbacks behind Ross and Matty until they both crashed on the same corner. Matt went down overcompensating to avoid a massive pothole, and Ross went down out of sympathy.

Ross had his foot caught in his luggage rack, so Matt had to lift the bike off. I pulled up just in time to see them laughing about it. We stopped laughing when Ross’s bike wouldn’t start. Matt insisted we put it on a truck to Leh, but Ross persisted tinkering until he drained the flooded carb and she booted to life. Well done, mate.

Further down the road we were winding through a prehistoric canyon. It was like that canyon in the first India Jones where the Nazis had the Ark but Indy had a rocket launcher pointed at it threatening to blow it up but then the other archeologist who was working with the Nazis called his bluff cause Indy ain’t gonna blow up the freakin’ Ark, geez. This was where my wheel exploded.

It wasn’t the tire, it was the rear wheel. I was descending around a tight hairpin when my rear brake shuddered and the wheel snapped into a lock. I skidded to a stop with a FUCK. Ross and Matt had been dropping faster than me and I just had time to watch them lean around a bend and gone. Silence. The river slid under the bridge whispering to itself as if discussing my predicament.

Trucks came down the hill behind me. I flagged the first honking driver to help me move my frozen ride off the road and onto the shoulder. He slowly picked his way around me and roared off. Another two drivers saw the path of least resistance and turned the corner themselves. Alone again.

It was fifteen frustrating minutes before Matt and Ross returned. We struggled until a Belgian couple with experience helped us diagnose the problem: the wheel was done. I needed a truck. My baggage and I hitched a ride seven km to Pang, the nearest ‘town’.

The next morning I found the local welding/tire repair tent and asked after a mechanic. No luck. I discussed taking the bike to Leh with some truck drivers. A Delhi tourist staying in our yurt translated. They wanted 5000 roops ($120) for the pleasure. I offered 4000 and lunch. Still way too much, but I was stuck.

Swaying up in the cab as if riding an elephant, it was a twelve hour trip to Leh. I watched friends blow by on bikes. I saw some of the most incredible scenery this planet has to offer. I spent twelve hours with Indian truck drivers in the Himalaya.

As ridiculous an experience as it was, you should understand it was beyond disappointing. I was devastated I didn’t make it to Leh. This was a mission we were undertaking and I didn’t get there. I didn’t ride over the Taglang La, the second highest road in the world. Still, what a day. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.

I pulled into town after 10 that night. In the dark I had to convince the driver to leave me at a hotel instead of the airport. I had some chicken byriani and went to sleep. I was in Leh, five days and a lot of rupees later.

So there you have it. I’ve just spent the last week in Leh eating pizza and drinking proper cappuccinos and meeting people. It’s a real scene up here. I’m on to Kashmir now, more soon.