It can make you wonder endlessly.
It can make you ask strange questions, questions that can make you uncomfortable, and yet excited.
When we asked ourselves what it would be like to cycle in the Himalayan winters, it made
us nervous, it made us uncomfortable.
Tremble we did, not in fear, but in sheer awe of the adventure that lay ahead.
We were no strangers to the Himalayas.
We'd run, cycled, and explored, but never had we experienced a frozen winters.
An eager glimpse at the map had us trace shaky fingers in search of our storm.
What was the furthest we could go?
We found our answer in a little village called Chitgul on the Indo-Tibetian border in Himalayas.
It was the last village on the map.
We had just one more question to answer, how do we cycle with snow and ice?
That's when the fat bikes came in, nasty looking things, big, disproportionate, loud as hell.
How we adored them.
Then the day arrived, when we put on our coats and shoes, we cleared our throats, wished
each other well.
We shook hands, then set out, and then it began to happen.
Our story was writing itself.
The imprints our wheels left behind, woven to be in chapters we had left out in the bitter
cold.
The days were long, and nights cold.
The air was thin, and our lungs grew weak.
We gasped for breath, going icy air, to keep us going.
It wasn't easy, as it seemed.
Our bikes held on, barely.
We slipped on ice, and plowed through soon.
We fell, and then we fell again, until it became a habit.
When we came in search of a storm, but looking at this, I'm a little glad that the storm
missed us.
It looks quite hard, Koja, to have lunch.
We took falls, and then we also met a friend in the form of a dog who followed us around
for a couple of stretches, and then he scooted off, so today was good fun.
We were here six months ago, and I can't recognize Nero, it's absolutely crazy, it's
freezing out in the storm, and the wind is just hitting your face right now, exploding.
So I have to go in.
We pushed through deserted towns, eager to find a pair of hands that waved hello's,
shook our cold hands, and shared a warm cup of tea.
It was lonely, but we weren't alone.
In unexpected places, we found faces that smiled to us, strangers who called us in.
They didn't care too much for our names, our smelly quotes, or the fact that we couldn't
recall the last time we bathed.
We had come searching for a storm, and found warmth, grateful we moved on.
The final push brought us to our knees, our resolve, new week.
Tough, toughest things have ever happened, our bodies came burning, we've been tired
before, but today's something else.
We cycled with our heads down, we dug through snow, searching for milestones that were buried
deep.
It feels like we've done a hundred kilometers, I want to see how much more for our destination.
Can you see it?
That's a four, four more to go boys.
The movie cycled, the further everything seemed, then it began to change, one after another.
We shifted our gaze from the handlebar, who all that lay around us, the mighty Himalaya,
in all her glory.
We were, but in significant specs, lost in her magnificence.
She told us we had nothing to endure, but everything to experience, suddenly it wasn't
so hard anymore.
Our heads were still dizzy, our lungs continued to burn, but we just didn't feel it at all.
We cycled on, one revolution at a time, slowly, with our heads held high, and our eyes wandered.
It's a vivid memory, the arch that announced we were in Chitgul, the grand mountain that
stood between us and Tibet.
The quiet moments spent catching our breath, a moment of reflection, and the warm embraces.
The question we had asked ourselves answered, where we stand right now, we owe it to curiosity.
Where we go next, we owe it to curiosity.
That's where we came from, this is where we are, which happens to be the last village
of India, Chitgul.
To own a pair of eyes that are the only witness to all this magnificence is quite something.
I can't believe you're so close to Tibet, right behind that mountain.
The first man on a fat bike, the last village of India.
In winter.
I don't want to wear any more, my friends, I don't want to wear any more.
Back up.
