Different Strokes in Nepal

Dearest Son,

It is official now. Your mother is quite crazy 🙂

I feel one needs to try everything in life, to test your limitations. Then if you don't enjoy it, give it up. 

So though I have been cycling around India and Switzerland, and had been mountain biking once in 2014 in Nepal, I obviously didn't remember much of it. That time supposedly I had completed a short 12 km run and vaguely remember falling down while going downhill (the bike went over some stones and I lost control).

Anyways I insisted on an easy trail this time. Instead they planned a 60 km run (both ways) going through huge boulders in a forest area, with streams every few km and nothing much else in between, with someone who is called the "King of Mountain Biking" in Nepal. Which fool would take me along with the "King"? Didn't they know better?

One person was "babysitting" me (which meant he had to keep an eye on me, carry my rucksack when I couldn't and even push my bike – so the poor chap didn't enjoy his biking at all). The others, including the King, took off and were never seen again, until I reached our destination (a new upcoming, not yet opened, resort).

I ended up walking half the way. I was tired and couldn't breathe, but kept going because I didn't really have a choice. I couldn't possibly leave the bike there and walk off (it was borrowed and expensive). There was no one to take a lift from and no villages on the way. I used to look at the snowy mountain peaks on the horizon, and think, "What the hell am I doing up here on a bike? I've obviously lost my marbles."

Mountain biking is so very different from regular biking. The bike is different for one, with lots of gears (most irritating as you're busy changing gears). The handle is longer so you feel your chest opening up and your arms being stretched beyond their normal limits (especially since my arms are rather short). The handle bar is so high that you can't get off in a hurry (particularly dangerous when you're quitting halfway up a hill or down a hill – which I did pretty often). The seat is supposed to be high while going uphill, but then how do I get off when in trouble? So I just kept it low and put in double the effort unfortunately.

Coming back, they chose a simpler, but longer route. In the city I rode like a maniac, as I was hellbent on reaching home. They were encouraging me to ride again a few days later, but I don't think I will, even in my dreams!!

I deliberately took my tried and tested shoes, one of which disintegrated while going up the first day (I had offered to carry another pair, but they felt I should carry the bare minimum). So we spent a good half hour buying QuickFix and sticking it and then tying it with bright red plastic string! It goes without saying that they are now officially in a dustbin in Kathmandu.

I now am sitting on the bed, with all my muscles aching. All in all, I have realized a few things about myself. I am getting older and am not fit at all. Also, I am not ready to break bones or die as yet.

So I think I will take up some other challenging sport in the near future (once I am whole again) 🙂

Lots of love, 

Mama