Tibet Day 8, Xigaze to Namtso Lake

Biker Dom is down, but not out.

The day starts early and with difficulty as the yet again the first petrol station we try rejects us, and at the second we have to use watering cans filled from the pumps. Finally exiting the city we follow a road along a river valley hugging the valley side as do power pylons draping their high voltage cables like silken threads. The valley widens and we climb higher above the river which is flowing the same direction as our travel. We can see that there are small cliffs above the river on top of which farmers tend small plots of land; they seem very precarious and the cliffs will no doubt be washed away one day. A modern looking train track also follows the valley, on pre-cast concrete supports, tunnelling through the rock in places.

At some point we break away from the large river and enter a wider valley with what looks like dried water channels that probably fill during the rainy season; cattle graze the land in between. We're climbing again now and it reminds me of something...  maybe Patagonia, maybe Bolivia.

At a point just before we reach a lake, there's another prayer flag area with views over the shallow incline we must have just climbed. Saying shallow makes it sound mundane, but we have to keep reminding ourselves that we're at around 4000m - higher that almost everything in western Europe. We pass what looks like a geothermal plant with gleaming silver pipes running down from a steaming exit from the mountain into a factory complex. The pipes are folded into rectangular gateways around the entrances to the factory grounds. The factory doesn't look at all busy, but the hot steam, must be in use for something.

The mountains rise on either side of the valley and I can see rain clouds coming down and heading right for where we're heading. As I'm some distance behind Alex and Vidya leading, I decide to get there before the rain does, so I speed up. In the end I win, but only because it doesn't really try to race me. By the time I get to the crossroads, where the others are waiting, the rain has faded away. But it's cold and I'm starting to get cold too; and my cough is beginning to get me down. We pass through a large boulder field which looks to have been deposited by raging river waters sometime in the past, and yet, here we find a village that has been constructed right inside it. Surely it's only a matter of time before heavy rains and/or melting snow cause a disaster here? Or perhaps these are boulders left here by a past ice age glacier? In which case the village has a more certain future.

Wang catches up and we turn right at the crossroad, just as Big Al told me we would. The road turns into a dirt track for about 20k, which is especially challenging for the Benelli riders, and then turns to asphalt before reaching an industrial area. Just before that, a bird swoops in from the right and glides for a while at eye level just in front of Christopher, who I'm following; it then flies off to the left. It would have made an amazing GoPro shot like something out of a wildlife programme.

After the industrial area we turn left onto the G109 main road loaded with lumbering trucks. The single track train line accompanies us again and I see a long train going the opposite way. It's mostly a cargo train but the last few carriages look like passenger compartments.

The temperature has dropped again and the chill is really starting to bite into me. The journey is becoming an ordeal that I'm beginning to wish would end soon - not at all like me. But the task of overtaking cars and trucks with so little power is a real mental challenge that keeps me on the boil and going. The challenge is to seek visibility ahead of the trucks wherever you can get it, sometimes that's around the outside, sometimes inside, but you always have to check for slow farm tractors or small cargo carriers that trucks pull out to overtake at the last minute. Then, plan your speed and gears to overtake at the right time, whipping your pack of lame horses to within an inch of their lives. Then if you're lucky you can keep the momentum ready for the next overtake.

When you're not overtaking, vehicles coming the other way mostly don't try to overtake if they see you, but occasionally they do, and you have to pull over to the right, almost off the road, to give them space.

We left turn off the G109 at Damxing, just after getting petrol again. And the road deteriorates, but is still asphalt. I feel a jolt through the bike as if my stand is still down and it's hit the ground as I lean to the left (very dangerous as this could tip you off the bike - in fact all bikes I've ridden have stand switches that will not let the bike move off in gear, but not the Zuumav). I look down and it's not the stand. I think nothing of it until I feel it again and again. I stop to give the bike a visual check but don't see anything, so I'm on my way again. I wrack my brain to think what might be causing it and think the chain might be loose. I'll have it tightened when we reach the hotel. Shortly after I lose power in all gears, the engine revving wildly. Oh dear, this feels terminal, like something inside the gearbox is broken.

I stop and look down and to my relief the chain is missing. I look down the road to see Big Al stopping to scoop something off the road: my chain, it's sheared a link. As I'm so cold, Al offers to wait with my bike while I ride his ahead to the hotel. Temping as it is to get my hands on the reigns of those perky stallions I decline and opt to wait for the van. Al stays with me, even acting as a wind break! Fortunately the van arrives not too long after. I was expecting a bike swap, but instead a new chain is fitted within a few minutes and I'm on my way. But not too far, as within a few km it's YAFC and I meet everyone waiting.

Then into the national park area and then begins a new climb into the mountains. Not as dramatic as the one to reach Everest but still it reaches 5150m before dropping into the Namtso Lake valley which we can see in beautiful evening sunlight in the distance. By this time, I feel like an icicle and I'm in survival mode rather than enjoying the ride. After reaching the valley floor at 4700m, we skirt around the lake, some distance from the shoreline before cutting in and eventually finding our hotel after a few false endings. The lake shore curves around in front of us with the snow capped mountains in the background, it's extremely picturesque. But it's been 430km and almost 12hrs since we left this morning and I'm not in the best spirits to appreciate it's splendour.

We park up, get our rooms and I get out of my kit and go straight to bed, cold to the core, shivering, switching on the electric blanket, loading up the quilts and donning a thermal hat. I leave the door open and listen to the commotion outside as more guests arrive. I've no idea of the time, but Migmar, the guide, informs me that dinner is ready. Eventually I get up, still feeling cold, and head to the dining area. It must have been a while since dinner started because Alex is preparing some hot water bottles and food to bring to my room. Instead I stuff the hot bottles inside my jacket and sit at the table. I'm not really hungry but try to eat what I can. I do feel a little better but not enough. Sitting around the fire chatting and laughing is a nice way to end the day and lifts my mood somewhat, but Biker Dom is not in a good way.

I retire with the hot 1.5l water bottles still in place and the electric blanket at least makes the bed nice and warm. But still it's not until the morning that my body feels warm again. And because I'm feeling so unwell, the daily blog is ignored - at least I still have the notes that I'm using to write the entry two days later. Normal service will be resumed, Biker Dom is down, but not out - but you know that already by now!

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Tibet Day 9, Namtso Lake to Lhasa

The previous day, 8, to follow.

A day of contrasts. After wiping the snow off our bikes at freezing Namtso Lake we wipe the sweat off our brows in hot Lhasa.

A somewhat restless night trying to warm my core with water bottles and an electric blanket. At 1am, I wake to the small hours diamox dilemma: do I go to the toilet or can I wait? The answer is biased towards 'wait' by the fact that's it's a drop toilet, outside the main building, in the freezing cold, with no light, no roof and virtually no walls. At 5am, I give in and go. And then, relieved, back to bed to warm up again.

Opening the curtains at 8:30 is quite a shock, as the bikes and ground outside are covered in snow. Those who woke earlier and even ventured out for a walk, were caught in a snow storm. The thought of negotiating the twisty path to up and down the 5000m mountain pass suddenly doesn't seem such a good idea, but there's no other way out. In the end it's not so bad as it's mostly melted by the time we leave.

But before that, I venture down to the lakeside beach to test the waters. They're bloody cold! I can barely manage 20 seconds before having to get out, and although my feet are now dead, it makes the rest of my body feel warm. During the 20 seconds I also taste the water and confirm that it is indeed mildly salty. Lake Titicaca in Bolivia is at 4000m, Namtso Lake is some 700m higher again.

Suitably warm now, breakfast is a rather nice omelette and pitta bread with honey. Protein and carbs to get me through the morning

The snow storm has cleared leaving a blue sky and we retrace our route up the mountain on thin black ribbons through a white landscape. By now wet asphalt is all that remains of the snow on the road, while all around is blanketed in about 5-10cm of white powder. We still take it gingerly though, as ice and snow don't mix well with two wheels. Swiss Martin however feels right at home in these conditions and powers up with confidence. At the top (5150m), the blue sky and snow combination makes everything feel crisp and Christmassy and there's a veritable party atmosphere with local tourists relishing the sudden snowfall. We join in the fun, throwing snowballs and Big Al even creates his own snow angel. The visibility is good and the views of the surrounding landscape are even more vivid due to the lighting conditions. Many pictures are taken and once again celebrity hounds stalk us for photos.
 
On the way down water vapour rises eerily from the road surface, now being heated by the sun's almost midday rays. Off to the side, there are strange tracks in the snow as if thousands have trudged through the white stuff; later I see the 'thousands' are a herd of yaks being led by a lone woman herder, also tending a very young calf.

Rejoining the main highway, we have to once again carve our way though lines of trucks and cars to make progress - not so easy with a wheezy 335cc motor between your legs, but kind of enjoyable thrashing it. We thought Lhasa was clean with its electric vehicles but here it's back to developing world normality with fat diesel trucks spewing out clouds of thick black smoke.

At the lunch stop we have a man down, it's Alex and he looks bad. But that's normal, so everything's fine.

What strikes me wherever we go in Tibet is the amount of serious civil engineering in progress, the roads we traverse and the rail line running parallel are obvious examples but there are many others; the investment here by the Chinese government is immense.

Alan Alan has behaved well so far, not meriting anything interesting to report, however he's gone straight in at number one with his coming together with Martin while avoiding a taxi U-turning into his lane while simultaneously trying to stop for one of Wang's random re-groupings. Almost stationary, his bike topples into Martin's and the bikes become locked together and difficult to separate.

We arrive back at the same hotel we left a few days ago, and after the spartan dwellings of last night, a hot shower and flush toilet are luxuries much appreciated. I have different roomie today, and he's going to treat himself to a new pair of pants!

After dinner a few of us compare SpO2 levels using a downloaded smartphone app. Scoring in the eighties, new Steve has bought a can of oxygen to help him along, while Keith and I are healthily in the 90%+ range.

Back up to 4200m tomorrow before going back to Lhasa for the last time.

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Tibet Day 7, Everest Base Camp to Xigaze

On waking, the room was nowhere near as cold as I expected, however I was glad that I had the foresight to tuck my waking clothes under the duvet to benefit from my body heat.

Breakfast was as expected in this simple establishment, simple. Omelette and pancake with coffee or tea. I didn't care, I was ravenous, even scooping up others' leftovers, either to eat now or save for a road snack.

Because it was an early start, Everest was barely visible, but after 30mins or so it began to catch more light. The lighting was completely different to yesterday so it was nice to see it in a different perspective.

Someone has neatly scribbled "cold" in the frost on my bike's saddle, as if to replace the weather feed on my smartphone. We leave before sunrise and I'm wearing many layers, I counted seven, or nine if you include the extra thermal pads over my chest! What a southern pooftah! My bar muffs mostly do their job, I'm wearing summer gloves for a better fit and feel and it's just bearable.

It's the same route back, so we get to play again. However because of the cold we take it more carefully than usual until the sun has had a chance to warm the road. Once at the top Christopher and I take the dirt road again and the views are even better than yesterday in the morning light.

On way down we can go a bit faster as the roads have been warmed by the sun for several hours and I ride with Big Al (Aussie Al) following me on his Benelli acting as sweep. He's almost exclusively a dirt rider, so asphalt is not his thing, but he keeps up with me without a problem. They say dirt riding sharpens your road riding and they're not wrong.

At the end of the winding, mountainous road section we turn right back on to the main route to Tingri. Then it's YAFC. Bigger crowd today so it takes longer, but hey, this is Tibet, so we're used to it by now. We reach Tingri by 10:30 so we're on schedule, which is important as today is a long ride.

The road is now back on the flat, fast but occasional potholes, then even more potholes - I don't remember it being so bumpy coming the other way. I see and pass a familiar looking object in the middle of the road, so I stop and turn back, only to find it's a Zuumav exhaust pipe! What kind of numpty doesn't realise his exhaust has fallen off? And what kind of numpty riding behind, seeing it fall off, doesn't go back to get it? (Names withheld to save embarrassment) Anyway, I strap it to my bike as a quad exhaust upgrade, while Matt and Aussie Chris follow me to make sure all is well. I have to stop a few times as the thing sometimes gets dislodged on the many bumps. More bungies are pulled from my bag. We stop again and now the duck tape comes out too - belt and braces. But eventually the exhaust is reunited with its numpty owner and refitted with two new bolts at our lunch stop.

After lunch and minus a few layers as it's heating up, Big Al and I ride at pace, swapping positions occasionally. We pass three Harleys starting up in a village and I see them in my mirrors with their football stadium lighting system. They ride like typical Harley riders, gradually catching me on the straights but falling back in the corners. Eventually the leader passes and the other two follow, but they keep slowing too much for the corners, so on one clear stretch I overtake the last rider (complete with flashing blue tails lights) on a bend. Then they catch lead rider Alex as well, but they then slow to Harley pace through some wet gravel where the road is being repaired and then Alex, Big Al and myself are passed them like greased whippets. We don't see them again until we stop for petrol. For reference Steve King is not a typical Harley rider, he rides it, rather than parades it.
Into Xigaze and we take the same route as we did when we left the city, but without a local guide I'm leading using Google Maps on my BlackBerry. It gets us close enough that we recognise the area and Alex takes over to the hotel. 375km today.

The baggage hasn't arrived, so we mull around. I go shopping and buy a brother for Arthur (it's a gift for someone), get a haircut and some cough medicine - my throat feels like barbed wire when I swallow.

Mick and Mark are here and we catch up on what they've been up to and vice versa. They're off to Lhasa by train tomorrow and it sounds like a great journey. We'll see them there in a few days.
Another early start tomorrow - I really hate these, but it's an even longer route tomorrow on bumpy roads. I wonder if I need to check my saddle weather report before dressing?

Only one picture today, you've probable seen some good ones posted to Facebook by others. Check out Chris Goonan and Steve King's posts

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Tibet Day 6, Tingri to Everest Base Camp

An early start and shortly after leaving, it's YAFC where we have to have our passports and Tibet passes checked. That done, we see dramatic early morning sun striking shadows on the craggy hills as we go. I notice Matt's tyre is running low on air and he stops to await the van and sweeper Alex. Meanwhile we turn off to the left towards Everest and wait for them, which seems to take an age. Eventually Alex and Matt turn up, but the tyre is still running soft.

A group of well loaded Chinese bikes arrive, they're en route to Pakistan. We've seen them on the road for a couple of days now and they kindly lend us their pump. The consensus is that it's a slow puncture, so Alex says wait for the van and do a bike swap. It arrives without the trailer and Alex insists we need this for the two days (we're heading back to Xigaze tomorrow via Tingri). Potentially another long wait, we pump up Matt's tyre and push on; it lasts the whole day without problem! Still, we've wasted too much time and it just shows how little things can disrupt plans.

We start seeing Everest as we go, taking the odd picture. Then starts a winding asphalt road the like of which rivals anything I've ridden in the Alps. Hairpin after hairpin, tyres run edge to edge with the stand scraping the road on left handers. There's almost no traffic so it's like a track day in the mountains.

We stop at various points to take pictures of the winding road below. We reach the top at 5100m and see amazing views of the mountain. Then we notice some local riders heading up a dirt road on the left. I decide to follow them and after about 500m we reach another viewpoint at 5235m with even more spectacular views. I build a cairn to remember fellow riders who've departed and Aussie Chris builds one in memory of his wife. Chris and his wife were planning to visit the Himalayas together before she died, so it's a very emotional time for him. Aussie Alan and he share a moment.

Then downward and another set of truly amazing curves until we reach a tea house and stop. The owner, Gao Wei, kindly gives this to us for free in exchange for a group photo with him. He's been in Tibet for a year and comes originally from Hunan Province. Wherever we go, people have been so kind to us.

Everest gets larger as we reach our hotel for the night and check in. Then it's straight on the bikes again to head towards Base Camp. It's a few km to a transit point where sadly we have to leave the bikes and board a bus that takes on a very bumpy winding journey to the actual Base Camp - it would have been a great ride.

'Base Camp' was quite frankly not what we expected, it's a tourist base camp. The real one is about 1km in the distance and we can see it's made up of a collection of different tents and other temporary looking structures.

Still, the views of Everest are the best we've seen and it's as close as we're going to get. We climb the local vantage point - slowly, it's 5100m - to get the best pictures. It's covered in fluttering prayer flags and the wind is extremely strong. Everest is framed by the hills in our valley and looks very majestic once the few random clouds clear. We take many photos including group photos while struggling to hold a Nomadic Knights banner and of course the MS People's Front who are now invading this part of Tibet. Fortunately there are no officials around to complain. I attempt an upside down yoga pose like I did at the End of the World in Patagonia, the effort required to hoist the legs up there is enormous and after three tries I just about nail it.

We get back on the bus, mount the bikes and arrive back at our hotel. There's patriotic Chinese music playing on a tannoy over the village. I would imagine it's to stamp 'Chineseness' on the area; it must drive the Tibetans nuts.

Before dinner, I go for another madcap jog, this time at 5000m. 2km is all I can manage and it takes me the best part of 20 minutes to complete it. The legs are fine, it's just I can't get enough oxygen into them to power them; it's like trying to run an engine at full power with a limited fuel flow, pity our little Zuumavs!

Dinner is an assortment of dishes, but my protein choice is once again egg based; the meat dishes look delicious - it's tough being awkward. Ablutions are done al-fresco as there is no bathroom only a bowl in our rooms and a large thermos of hot water. The toilet is a squad and drop affair and stinks to high heaven, although the yaks outside looking in through the open windows may be partly to blame. But it's freezing cold in our rooms and no heating. Tomorrow morning at 6am for a 7am start is going to be tough, tough, tough.

Bed is a double quilt affair, with an electric blanket and improvised hot water bottles using our old drinking water bottles. While waiting for sunset on the mountain, I'm inside my quilt typing my blog, wearing thermal hat, and multiple thermal layers, it's toasty under the covers. I miss the sunset while being creative, apparently it was very beautiful.

There's no wifi at the hotel and no access to mobile data for me from the local cell tower, so this blog entry is going to be delayed.

...Just after midnight and my data connection comes back. You're in luck.

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Tibet Day 5, Latse to Tingri

The alarm goes off at 7:30 and again at 8, but it's only at 8:30 do I rise. Opening the curtains, the blue sky of 3900m awaits me; what a lovely sight.

Some of us are feeling a little worse for wear this morning, even ironman, Alex, who forgot to take his Diamox last night and woke in the wee hours with a headache. 250mg of diamox, a few hours, and he was back to his jolly self. Almost the same for me, except in my case I hadn't drunk enough fluid yesterday and was dehydrated; I had to wait for breakfast before popping an ibuprofen to ease my pain.

We're playing musical beds and my roomie for last night, Mark, felt even worse. He had some bug before coming away, and the altitude isn't helping. Coughing most of the night he takes longer than me to boot his OS.

After breakfast and once on the road (and beyond YAFC) my malaise disappears as I enjoy the brisk ride in the cool sunshine. Sweeping roads through the valley floor, next to a wide river bed whose only occupant is a rather meek looking river. The width of the river bed and the large boulders strewn about suggests that the meek river turns into a monster come rainy season (early autumn).

Heading up as we go, it gets cooler. The soft Himalaya mountains are deceptive, and as I said yesterday, this could be north Wales with smaller rivers cutting deep channels in the hillsides to get to the valley floor. And still we climb, the asphalt becoming less reliable with whole sections either transformed into dirt tracks or pockmarked with large potholes, or collapsed or collapsing.
And finally we reach the top of the road and we've arrived at a wide gate opening proclaiming entrance to Mt Qumolangma (Everest) National Park. We pose for pictures with the gateway making an excellent frame for the snow-capped mountains beyond and there's the usual trinket sellers with the deepest tans ever.... We're now at 5200m.... Wow, just wow! I've never been that high before (flying excepted). I feel great and now I'm really in the Everest mood. Bring it on!

Moving on, but now down, we reach a vista point for Mount Everest. It's cloudy in the distance so not much to see, but occasionally the clouds clear a little and there it is, way off, Mt Everest! Or at least part of it, the clouds never clearing enough to see it in the whole. But it's definitely Everest! Copious photos follow.

Setting off again and it's more of the same sweeping roads. At one point with a nice view, Steve, Danny, Chris and Swiss Martin stop and take several shots with bikes lined up on the road and the mountains behind (not Everest).

Eventually the river bed in the valley gives way to a much wider plain with fields almost ready for planting. Several teams of horse drawn ploughs are turning the sod ready to be planted with seed. But the weird thing is that they are ploughing in circles. Aussie Chris, Martin and I stop to take photos and shortly after, the farmers break for a well earned lunch sitting in circles by the roadside. We greet them in our best Tibetan and it raises toothy grins from their weather beaten tanned faces. It's a hard life here and it shows, but the kids are as inquisitive and happy as ever, Arthur entertaining wherever he goes. Everyone loves Arthur!

Eventually we reach our destination for the night in Tingri, Hotel Mt Qumolangma. We park up the bikes and settle in. I find Mark already laid out on the bed snoring. He wasn't feeling 100% on the way up, so chose to sit out the ride and his bike was hitched to the trailer.

We've arrived early enough for me to consider going out for a run. I have a 20k race when I get back and surely a bit of high altitude training (at 4300m) would go down well? Six kilometres later, I'm not so sure. During my run I meet the lads who are buying up a shop's entire stock of bar muffs to keep their dainty digits toasty on the sub zero rides ahead. However, by the time I get there they've run out, but Steve, my hero and saviour, gives me his. He rarely feels the cold and often rides in a t-shirt and jacket, while I have six thermal layers. The fur-lined muff design is something I could see Grayson Perry mounting on his chopper if he ever came to Tibet, but they will be very effective. Danny, also too late, is not so lucky, and in desperation persuades a local to sell him his used pair, which apparently smell like "yak piss"...

My run is an education: gasping for oxygen 6km feels like 60km and takes me 48mins, which is about 14 mins longer than usual for that distance. I'm convinced km are longer at this altitude.

Seems like both Mark and Mick won't be riding with us for the rest of the trip. The high altitude is proving a match for them. They're both big guys and the it takes a harder toll on them; I'm surprised they've done so well so far considering our aggressive acclimatisation schedule. At least they saw Everest and ventured over 5000m. We'll see them again in Lhasa.

Early start tomorrow, we're off to Everest Base camp and will spend a night in a dormitory next to a monastery only a few clicks from Base Camp itself. Apparently we can't ride to Base Camp ourselves, which is a shame, but we can catch a shuttle bus/jeep to complete the last few km. I reckon that will be a cold night.

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Tibet Day 4, Xigaze to Latse

We wake not to the sound of cockerels crowing, but instead to 1000 Chinese voices shouting in unison. Turns out there's a police station behind our hotel and this is part of their morning routine - I presume also their night-time routine as we heard them when we arrived last night.

It's a relatively easy start today as we're not on the bikes in the morning. We have to get our local riding permits from a traffic police station that is a short ride away by mini-bus/taxi. There we hang around outside for bit, then just inside the large open parade ground, before being ushered outside again. Expecting a long wait and copious paperwork we settle down and chat amongst ourselves; even in Tibet Brexit is a topic of discussion! But then suddenly we're off, permits obtained, and walk at a fast pace back to our hotel past small shops selling shoes, clothes, car parts, photocopier spares and rubber chickens... That's where I meet Arthur, squeaking and laughing like a happy soul. He and I get on like a house on fire and he loves my jokes. I snap him up immediately and my cockerel now sits pride of place on my handlebars, secured with Gerard's fluorescent yellow gaffer tape. Cock jokes abound, but dear readers, I know you're above that; Arthur however, has a good laugh.

One of the many quirky features of our little Zuumavs is the peg design. Rather than being spring loaded to return to a riding position they lock in the up or down position like pillion pegs. In fact that is what they are pillion pegs; I'm convinced this is a design flaw by someone who's never ridden a motorbike. Especially when kicking up the side stand it's very easy to knock the peg into the up position and once there it's very awkward to get it back down again without stopping. For the first day or so this was extremely annoying. But overnight the mechanic has made what I call the Goonan mod to the bikes, removing the notch that locks the pegs into up or down position. Now the peg is free to move up and down, so gravity returns it to the riding position. A simple and effective solution suggested by Aussie Chris Goonan and refined by the mechanic.

Our destination today is Latse and were staying at one of the two hotels in town, but we are not sure which one! Only '150km' today; Arthur has a good laugh.

On the way out of town I briefly glimpse a large white building on the side of a hill that looks like a small version of the Potala Palace along with a few other buildings that I'd like to have had a chance to look at. We ride through some ornate gate posts and into a shopping street with a paved road, not asphalt. It's almost as if it is pedestrianised but it's not as there a pedestrians dodging cars, and now bikes.

The first stop for fuel is very brief as they have no petrol, we're in luck at the second. On the road and light rain turns into heavy rain, but just after we've stopped to put the rain gear on again. The rain doesn't last long.

Lunch is a roadside restaurant and some of the diners outside look like really weathered locals in traditional clothing. Their features are like those seen in other parts of the Himalayas such as Himachal Pradesh and not at all Chinese as seen in the Han people (the largest Chinese group). Opposite the restaurant rubbish can be seen at the side of the road just like in Nepal and India, maybe it's an anomaly in an otherwise impressively clean country. I say hello in Tibetan ('tashi dele') to two women pulling a cement cart along the road. They are fascinated by the drinking tube from my hydration pack and laugh when they see Ducky's cousin in my backpack. Once again, a rock star poses with adoring fans, but no autographs....

We rev the bikes climbing the mountain road, engines screaming for mercy. In some cases they give up: new Steve's overheats to 120C and erupts its fluids in a cloud of steam as he goes, but he makes it to the top; while Matt's is smoking like a two stroke but without the adrenaline surge hitting the power band. His engine is dead so a bike swap is in order; he takes Chris' dead bike from yesterday, which is resurrected with a part from Matt's own bike. There are great views from the top and some gravel too and we take a moment to capture the magic before moving on. But not before (old) Steve has a crack at chasing a yak for a photo opportunity. He survives.

The road to the top was potholed in places and repairs were also being carried out in others. At several points some of he riders hit these potholes hard, but without wheel damage. At other places, unmarked, India-style diversions onto dirt track bypasses appeared from nowhere almost catching us out. It was nice to get onto some gravel, but such is the Zuumav's paucity of power that there was not even the slightest chance to get the rear wheel spinning with pleasure.

It occurred to me today that the Himalayas we've seen so far are not the same sharp-peaked, jagged mountains that we saw in Himachal Predesh back in 2010... ahhh, memories; the trip that formed our happy bunch. No, these mountains are more like those seen in Wales or the Lake District (not far from the centre of the universe that is Barnoldswick) only, at 4000m+, hiya.... boom boom! (Sorry, in joke with friends.) I hope we'll get to see some spectacular jagged peaks when we get into Everest country in a few days - really looking forward to that.

Before reaching Latse we stop for fuel, but I somehow cause a commotion by riding towards the pumps to get petrol. The female manager gets very upset with me and verily jostles the bike away. For what ever reason bikes are not usually allowed near the pumps and have to be filled using a petrol can in a separate area. Stupid if you ask me, but now she's refusing to refuel any of our bikes. A policeman inside the office is called and mediates, resulting in us being allowed to refuel there, but we must push the bikes to the pump, not ride them under engine power.

We find our hotel in the small town of Latse and settle in. 167km ridden today, with a few long stops and no issues, bar petrol pump moments.

Dinner is a tasty array of various meats and veg dishes, tofu and mushrooms. Satisfying, with an apple and banana chaser. We dine enjoying views of the surrounding mountains.

Another relaxed start tomorrow, which I like.

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Tibet Day 3, Lhasa to Xigaze (Shigatse)

What an epic day. Tough but epic. A complete contrast to yesterday's easy ride in the warmth.
An early start as expected, but we didn't leave until well after 8am, rather than the intended 7:30. Aussie Chris and new boys Keith and Steve join us and are thrown in at the deep end on today's '360km' ride.

After leaving the hotel we head for the motorway to make a quick exit from Lhasa. Only, bikes are not allowed on the motorway! Wang argues with the several policemen who block our entry to the forbidden tarmac - it's hard to know whether they are angry or it's just one of the many tones of spoken Mandarin. The result is we have to go back the way we came. But we do get a police escort, with flashing lights and all; albeit at 45kph.... Eventually we find the alternative route and are on our way to Xigaze. (Apparently Migmar had told Wang that motorbikes were not allowed on the motorway, but Wang believed we would be let through). It wasted an hour or so, but we were on our way.

After a quick blast along the valley floor it dawns on my why our bikes might so feeble - they are suffering, just as we are, with 35% less oxygen. New Steve finds out that the Zuumavs are 335cc, which kind of fits with my estimate of the equivalent power to a 200cc engine.

At a regrouping stop, Aussie Chris' bike suddenly cuts out; it's kaput. Fortunately there's a spare bike on the support van's trailer so while that gets unhitched for Chris to ride, the rest of us are told to plough on with Wang. Alex and Chris will catch us up later...... or, that was the plan.

Further on we make a left turn off the highway, when I arrive Mark is marking the junction, so I replace him, intending to wait for Alex. Shortly after, Mark comes back and says Wang told him Alex is taking a different route. So I carry on with Mark and regroup with the others taking pictures of prayer flags stretched across a river. It then turns out that Alex is not taking a different route so Steve and Mark go back to mark the junctions and we go ahead to tell Wang what had happened. Wang says "I'll be ten minutes" and goes back looking for Alex and Chris.... That's the last we see of him.
Eventually the support van arrives with Migmar and he tells us to carry on until we reach the top of the mountain pass. There follows a winding ride to the top with lovely views over the valley below. The mountain tops are sprinkled in snow; it doesn't look like deep winter snow, more like new spring snow after winter snow has gone, but it's definitely colder than yesterday. We climb, climb, climb, on mostly good quality asphalt, and reach the top to enjoy lovely views over a long lake. It seems a popular place to enjoy the view as there's a police jeep parked there too. A nearby car park doesn't offer much in the way of refreshments and by now we're getting peckish. The wind has picked up too making our wait for the van decidedly chilly. We are at 4760m.

The van reaches us and we set off again, and then regroup at a fuel stop. After yet another check point we find a place to eat; by now it's 4pm and we're only half way. But Migmar says it's mostly flat from now on, but will get colder before warming slightly. Refuelled with noodles (although I eat popcorn from the fuel stop) and hot drinks we set off again and are told to ride for about 100km to the next stop. Mark is looking rather unwell and has a chill, so his bike is hitched to the trailer and he rides in the van.

Even with extra layers put on at the fuel stop the cold penetrates the layers. And at some point it starts to drizzle too, making it feel worse. I push on in the lead and make a good pace on the relatively straight roads in the valley floor. The road gradually starts to climb and the drizzle turns to sleet, turning to snow, turning to heavy snow. Fortunately it doesn't settle on the road, but it does on my goggles and I have to wipe them every few seconds to see anything. Obviously the pace slows, but I don't want to stop as, perversely, being active on the bike keeps me warmer despite the wind chill. I look down to see that snow is caking my jacket and I can feel that damp has penetrated my Gore-tex layers (don't believe what the marketing people tell you - nothing is 100% waterproof on a bike. Although Martin would tell you his expensive BMW suit is). Steve King has a great selfie demonstrating the caked snow effect on his visor, I'll post it later if I can; I didn't take any photos after the high point as my fingers were too cold. So despite possibly the worst conditions ever to ride in, it's freezing cold, I'm wet, and I haven't eaten a decent lunch, it was a great ride. What a mad masochistic bunch we are!

The pleasure is stopped by YAFC (is checkpoint one word?) where I'm pulled over by the police. I explain in my best pigeon English that my fellow riders are behind. I show them the itinerary and I'm asked for my passport and permit. Happier seeing this, they have a good look over my bike and even try sitting on it; I ask for a picture but they say "no photograph". Seems to be the case for all the police we've asked here, they don't want their photos taken.

Roomie Martin arrives to share my pain and in time the other riders and the van. Paperwork in order we're off again. Still many km to go and not long before it gets dark. We make steady progress to the next meeting place at which point we start following the van to our destination. We are all tired, mostly wet, and mostly cold, but eventually reach the hotel in the dark at 21:15, having braved and survived dicing with the mad taxis of Xigaze.

Alex, Chris and Wang arrived hours ago having taken the shorter route, while we took the longer scenic route and I'm glad we did.

No time for a shower we check in and head straight for dinner. But not all of us: Mark and Matt don't join as they're too cold and need to rest and warm up. Even now as I type this in the comfort of my bed, I feel my core is still cold.

Tomorrow we need to get our riding permits. Apparently China doesn't recognise our International Driving Permits so we need special local ones. This doesn't quite explain why we were riding today without issue, but I'm not really bothered. I suspect there will be queues and red tape tomorrow, so our riding window will be reduced. Probably a good thing, as we need to recover.

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Tibet Day 2, Lhasa to Lhasa

My roomy, Martin Mueller, finally arrives after a difficult journey caused by not having the original of his Tibet Permit and having to spend a night in Chengdu with the guy flown out to deliver the original to him. These bloody permits are a right pain and can only be delivered to addresses in China apparently (hence my night in Beijing). Luckily Martin is just in time for our first ride. There are two others in our group still to arrive - yesterday their aircraft was set to land, aborted and went back to Chengdu!

We get our bikes. Mostly brand new Chinese made 400cc(?) twin cylinder Zuumavs with an odd Benelli four and a Suzuki twin. The Zuumavs look the part with their aggressive naked styling. They are physically quite small though and some of the bikes look a little lost under our enduro layered bikers. But they have two wheels and an engine and that's what matters.

Today's ride is a short 60km familiarisation ride. We're introduced to our local riding guide, Wang. He looks experienced with all the right kit and a decent looking off-road style Chinese bike rather like the old BMW Funduro. We get a briefing from Alex who tells us it's all much more civilised on the roads here and there's less tooting; sacre bleu! Alex explains the system we'll use to stay together and it's not the corner man method. The first rider following the leader will replace the lead rider on a corner and when the guy behind him reaches the same corner he then replaces him, and so on. There's stirring from the ranks, it's sounds iffy. Alex is convinced it's a system that works.

We set off and, no big surprise, a few of us get lost. We stop a few times to regroup before leaving the city.

Once on the open road we open up the throttles and unleash the power... then we open up the throttles to unleash the power...... errr..... We change up, we change down, up and down the rev range searching for the elusive horses. And then, we find something.... ahh, but it's just a downhill stretch. Yep, these Zuumav are no way 400cc feeling more like half that; they definitely do not zuuuum! The lucky Benelli riders don't have the same problem, their four cylinders seem to have ample power.
But power is nothing without control and our Zuumavs have great looking twin disk radial caliper setups. Yep, they look great, but perform no better than single disk brakes. They stop us, which is always a nice feeling. The suspension is ok, not overly hard for a road oriented bike and the upside down front forks and rear shock soak up most small bumps, but feel a bit harsh on the sharp edges.
Later on, I get stuck in fourth gear as my gear linkage falls off, Neil's chain comes off and Matt's fuel line comes, loose spraying him with fuel. Teething troubles and to be expected in brand new bikes and our resident mechanic soon has them patched up.

The asphalt road winds upwards in a familiar way and we stop a few times to admire the views of the mountains, take pictures, and also be pictured with the locals, rock star style. It's on these winding roads that we discover the unusual handling of our mounts. Leaning into a bend there's resistance to turn, but on leaning a bit more, it suddenly tips, prompting us to navigate corners in a rather ragged 50 pence piece style. Initial impressions are that they are not the best bikes we've ever ridden, a bit buzzy and we long for that chug chug chug of the long stroke Enfield. My bike overheats, reaching 112C, and promptly spills some of its fluids all over the road. We'll get used to all these foibles as the days progress.

We reach Zha Yabasi and the road sign says 4800m. A quick check with GPS shows we're actually at 4300m. It certainly doesn't feel like 4800m as I can still breath. Hot, sweet tea is welcome and then we head back again winding our way down the same roads, getting used to the 'unique' handling.
Returning to town and back to base, Alex compiles a list of mechanical issues to be resolved before tomorrow's ride to Xigase. There we will obtain our permits to ride further into Tibet as our guide says they will be easier to obtain there. It's around a 360km trip and we'll be leaving around 7am. Gulp! Not looking forward to that.

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Tibet Day 1, Lhasa at the Potala Palace

...or the Potato palace, as our resident philistine, Steve, calls it. Yes, charming.

The name Potala hails from Indian roots thousands of years ago, but the present day Potala Palace was rebuilt in 1642 by the fifth dalai lama, who unified the previously divided Tibet and created the centre of Tibetan government and religious life in Lhasa. It was also the palace of the Dalai Lama, Tibet's spiritual leader.

It's a magnificent structure standing tall atop a Lhasa hill and has commanding views over the entire city. It has two parts red and white, red at the very top devoted to religious affairs, and the lower white portion, which was for government administration. Since 1959 when the Dalai Lama fled and China fully reclaimed Tibet the white government part has been inactive.

Our tour starts at 1pm, but we enter the complex a few hours ahead to walk around the structure. As with other religious sites there are many people circling performing their devotions by prostrating themselves on the ground as they go. We notice two young dishevelled girls, one with a backpack playing religious prayers (I assume), also regularly falling prostrate, but they seem somehow different. On closer inspection you can see that they have notes in their hands and that local people stop to give them money, which they stash in the backpack. I can't help feeling that they are earning their living from this as people pay them to do prayers by proxy. Martin gives them a few notes and the look on their faces suggests they are not impressed by his paltry offering.

The Palace has three gates, the East gate for religious duties, the West gate for political and the South gate for riff-raff like us. We enter, showing our passports and our tickets that have our passport numbers on, through a security scanner checking for liquids, and then show the tickets again a few metres further on. In the courtyard we pose for photos and Chris unfurls the banner for an MS charity he's supporting and holds it up with Matt for a promotional picture. The guards fearing an uprising by the MS Peoples Front quickly disarm them and the banner is confiscated, to be collected later. Our crack troop of commandos regroups and plans its next assault: the climb to the Potala Palace itself.
It's a vertical climb of about 130m and it takes us the best part of an hour to complete. The views over city get better as we climb but while gasping for breath it can be the last thing on our minds. We can see that the wall structure is composed partly of straw and that it's still standing after a few hundred years is amazing.

Entering the Palace building through gates and we go through a variety of courtyards and rooms until we climb into the very top structure through stairs. For this we need yet another ticket and after this point we are not allowed to take photographs. There follows a maze of rooms and corridors with enormous golden statues and picture of Buddhas and other figures of significance to the Buddhist faith. In all we see about 27 rooms of the over 2000 in the Palace. Our local guide, Migmar, tells us that many of the rooms in the 'white palace' are now just empty or used for storage, while the red section is still used for religious matters and tended to by a small group of monks.

The climb down on the north side is less strenuous, but the wind that seems to have whipped up is quite cold so we don our jackets for the descent. Migmar told us to bring jackets and now we know why.

We are used to being rock stars with local people stopping to have their photos taken with us, but one monk seems particularly keen to be photographed with us, smiling all the time. I wonder if they get points for the number of foreigners they get snapped with.

Before leaving the palace complex, Christopher, the leader of the Peoples Liberation Front of ME, heads off to get his banner back.... Correction, he's the leader of the ME Peoples Liberation Front; the Peoples Liberation Front of ME are splitters! Anyway, Steve, Danny and I join him and we end up banging on the large doors of the South gate, which are now closed, to try to get in. All to no avail. Christopher and Steve head off to the East gate and eventually manage to get the banner back after some friendly exchanges and cake.

(More information on Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) can be found here: Invest in ME -  ME is a severe systemic, acquired illness, affecting more people than AIDS/HIV and Multiple Sclerosis combined)

By now it's 4pm and Danny and I find a restaurant for lunch near the hotel, which turns out to have rather decent internet connection. We return there after dinner to hang out like dudes to enjoy the wonders of unlicensed spectrum at 2.4 GHz.



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Tibet Day 1, Acclimatising in Lhasa

Flying into high altitude locations above 3000m can be challenging. Firstly the thinner air means that aircraft landings occur at higher speed because the wings generate less lift; and with Lhasa at 3500m, the increased landing speed compared to that at take-off at sea-level is noticeable looking out of the window.

Secondly, once you're there you have less oxygen intake in every breath; at 3500m there's 34% less oxygen than at sea-level. You notice it even climbing just a few stairs as you're more out of breath than usual. You need to acclimatise to this change and that's what our first few days in Lhasa are about. The body slowly adjusts, producing more red blood cells and opening up parts of your lungs not normally used. But it also causes more fluid to leak from capilliaries into the lungs and brain and without our acclimatisation this can lead to problems. Diamox is a drug commonly used to reduce the affects and we've all got tablets to help us. Acute Mountain Sickness or AMS, is a well known condition and affects everyone differently, but it is potentially fatal and so we take it seriously. Even Alex, the seasoned guide, says he's felt it here and that we need to take extra care because we've flown in to 3500m (and will stay at high altitude) without the gradual ascent normally included in our trips.

Mark, Neil and Matt have seen some symptoms, headache, nausea and loss of appetite for example so it's good that we are taking it relatively easy in these first few days. Later we will reach 5200m at Everest Base Camp, where we will spend a night in freezing conditions and with only 55% of that precious oxygen, so this acclimatisation is essential.

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Tibet Day 0, Arrival in Lhasa

After leaving home at 14h30 on Wednesday, we arrive in Tibet at 15h00 on Friday. Quite a journey, but arrival is eased being met by our local Tibetan guide Migmar (who worked with my inspiration, Michael Palin, who was, and remains, my virtual mentor - yet he doesn't know it). The sky is blue and I'm now at 3500m, the lack of oxygen is a little noticeable, or maybe that's the jet lag. Stairs will tell.

The new road from the airport drills its way into the mountain at the side of the wide river flood plane on which the airport sits, and on the other side, the terrain is similar in another valley floor. This road halves the journey time of the 60km from the airport to Lhasa. Along the road some of the mountains are dotted in prayer flag 'tents' clinging to the sides like limpets on upturned boat hulls. Shiny metal electricity pylons gleam in the sunshine almost shouting their arrival on the flat landscape.

First impressions of Lhasa are positive, it's clean, non-polluted unlike Kathmandu and the people are amazingly friendly. Electric scooters wizz up and down: silent but deadly, you need to look before crossing or even changing direction on the pavement.

The striking Potala Palace is the first landmark I see and justifies it reputation; we have a visit there tomorrow.

I meet the lads at the hotel: Steve, Danny, Alan-Alan, Aussie Alan, Aussie Chris, Christopher, Matt, Mick, Mark, Martin, Neil, Leader Alex and Vidya. This year we're sadly missing sleepy Hugo, no-tea-stop Gerard and Dr Duff, but have gained a few new faces (Simon, Keith and new Steve) who I'll meet soon and I'll ride with on this adventure with Nomadic Knights.

Dinner and a walk around a temple accompanying a throng of devotees. People are throwing themselves on the ground in prayer; I've seen it on TV, but it's more vivid live. More on that in future posts I would imagine.

Time for bed, after 48hrs I'm zonked, even if Ducky is not.


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Tibet Day -1, Biker Dom arrives in Beijing

So, with all the restrictions on internet access in China - and Tibet is a particularly sensitive area of China - I'm wondering if I'll be able to update the daily blog as usual. Google and Facebook are difficult or impossible to access through the domestic wifi networks (although strangely, I seem to get Facebook notifications, even if I can't see the content), so some of my fellow riders might be socially dark for a while. As Google owns blogspot, will I even be able to view and post? This, I guess, is a test. My secret weapon could be my ancient BlackBerry that 'tunnels' through its data connection back to the steam powered BlackBerry servers in Europe. Here's hoping.... click........

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Tibet, Day -2 - first to Beijing

Biker Dom is off to Tibet! Posts should become active from around the 12th May.

Oopnarth, Day 3 - the Lake District

We bid farewell to Martin and Danny this morning as they head back home. Long journeys south and west for these guys. Danny's going to try the dreaded M6, while Martin will use the M56.

Our coffee stop this morning is Devil's Bridge. A popular stop off point for bikers and I enjoy a few minutes chatting to other riders about bikes and places. The bridge itself offers tempting drops into the clear water below, but local bylaws prohibit such antisocial behaviour - but that doesn't stop those brave few that do it. I'd love to join them. Alas, that's for another day.

Ray and Mick split off from the group just after we leave the Devil's Bridge and we perform our usual man hugs saying goodbye. They join the M6 southbound, onto Wales and thence to Ireland by ferry. We later hear their jaunt and detour through North Wales almost made them miss the ferry.
A last minute indication by Steve to turn-off for a fuel stop sees me quickly dart through a gap from the fast lane, while Mark misses the entrance and has to back into the forecourt. Steve apologises profusely and his guilt buys our fuel.

Into the Lake District and quickly onto the Hawkshead ferry, being directed to bypass the queuing cars, we're soon afloat. Pictures and a quick Facebook post and before you know it we're off at the other side. This really is a beautiful place, made all the more beautiful by the perfect weather and first shades of autumnal colours.

We head to the Wrynose and Hardknot passes and, after clearing the traffic restricted roadworks, take no prisoners as we make progress along the winding roads. Soon we in the heart of the hills and the scenery is spectacular: why have I not been here before?

Entering the pass approach, we see signs warning of steep slopes and sharp turns; this only encourages people like us. In the distance you can see the road snaking up the hill through the greenery. Steve points out the dark Herdwick sheep, which produce special wool for thick, warm woollen clothing.

We climb through Wrynose at 25% which is challenging, but this becomes 30% for the Hardknott. No problem for us seasoned enduro riders: Steve, Mark and myself. We relish the opportunity to test our skills. The views become even more wondrous at the top with views looking into both valleys. From here it's all downhill, we've reached the pinnacle of our viewing pleasure. But what views. This is the site of our Road Kill photo.

Winding our way down we come across a broken down Rover P6 V8 on a corner and we stop to ask if we can help. The driver thanks us for stopping but thinks the engine's head gasket has blown, yet happily informs us that the man from the AA is on his way. From the car's position, I think the man from the AA will not reciprocate his happiness.

Lunch is at the Woolpack Inn. I enjoy some very tasty trout on flat bread, which Steve says he did not enjoy on a previous visit. He's still not impressed by the flat bread, but the filling is good.

Onwards and we end up in Gisburn Forest after a quick blast along some bigger A-roads. There's no forest, but at the highest point the moors stretch in all directions. We stop for a rest and to catch up on some phone calls. When leaving, Steve decides to test himself and his bike on a small knoll; the knoll wins. But despite all our enduro trip training, neither Mark nor myself rush for our cameras to capture the moment. Instead, our nurturing instinct urges us to help him up. Shame on us! Sorry readers, we'll try harder next time!

And then, we're home. An end to our quick weekend tour. It's been a great three days, all down to our super host Steve, who's planned and led the whole thing. He's really the best tour guide ever.

Tomorrow will be a long day. Ride to Nottingham, see Duff Man, ride to London, meet up with Mrs Biker Dom and another biker buddy, then onto Eurotunnel (via a tyre fitter if possible) and Brussels by the evening. The following day I have a red-eye flight to Geneva. Ouch, Biker Dom is always on the go!

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Oopnarth, day 2

Barnoldswick used to be in Yorkshire, but due to boundary changes it's now in Lancashire. Not a popular move with the locals, so much so that the "Welcome to Yorkshire" signs outside the town are still where they always were. In years gone by this could have meant war.

Leaving Barlick and the chilly, early morning fog, we head east (further) into Yorkshire, by ascending a local hill. Steve leads, following his satnav, using a route he has planned. He develops such routes regularly for his Harley chapter and is notorious for challenging riders who are not used to corners; carnage often ensues. He's ridden this route a few times and is confidently sweeping through the bends with gusto. Much more than I, so on the occasions when I'm following him (we're using the corner man method for marking junctions), it takes most of my concentration to keep up with him.

Once higher up, we emerge into the clear sky and once more it's a lovely day. The hills are adorned with whirling wind turbines, but they're rotating more slowly than yesterday.

We stop at a spot overlooking a reservoir for a photo op and the first of many bladder evacuations. The grass beyond the parking area is littered with bottles and other trash. This always makes me angry that people visit and enjoy such beautiful vistas and then don't feel anything dumping their garbage there.

Shortly after we cross a cattle grid and meet a herd of highland cattle. With its hillside ferns and long grass, this area already reminds me of Scotland, but the addition of the cattle cements that impression in my mind. The cows are cute and in dire need of a haircut - these are the rock stars of the bovine world.

Morning coffee is in Todmorden, near Halifax, a charming little town from what I can tell. This part of the world is not holding to the 'grimy North' stereotype I was expecting.

Shortly after we stop for lunch at the White House, Blackstone Edge, a hostelry near the top of a pass through the hill. The road outside reverberates with the sound of motorcycle exhausts at full chat; a symphony to the ears of mechanical music fans. Booming V-twins and screaming fours vie for the best noise.

At various points during the day we've negotiated sharp bends on hills. These are not the typical environment for cruiser bikes, but Alan, riding Steve's supertanker disguised as a motorbike Harley Road King, is riding like a trooper and coping really well with the sharp turns. Harleys are not supposed to go round corners, but nobody told Alan!

It's still great biking weather and when we stop for petrol mind ourselves sweating in the heat. Marks struggles to pump his tyres and after several attempts the attendant has to "reboot" the pump electronics. It's seems to work, and just as well because Mark's tyres are woefully under inflated. No excuse for poor riding now! ;-)

It's a short ride back to Steve's place and we park up the bikes. Steve offers to take me on his Harley, so I gear up and get ready to roll. I've never ridden a Harley before, but it's not as bad as I've been led to believe and is very comfortable to ride. It also has a very loud exhaust and I wished I'd put earplugs in; afterwards my ears are still ringing.

Dinner (or is it tea or perhaps supper?), is a tapas assortment, followed by BBQ chocolate. Once again the hard bikers are proving they're more sophisticated than the average hairy-arsed biker.

Riding these roads has shown me that you don't need to go to exotic places to enjoy good biking or to see fantastic scenery, it's available within the grand shores of the UK. Going to exotic places, however, does get you to experience different cultures and despite what I might have thought, Oopnarth is not so different to dahn south. Travel broadens the mind like nothing else - do it as much as you can.

No roses were harmed in the making of this blog.

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Oopnarth, Day 1

The day's riding starts with a hearty breakfast and then Alan Alan and Graham join us. Alan, particularly looks the part, riding Steve's lumbering Harley with his racing leathers complete with knee sliders (his own bike, a 954 Blade, has a fuel pump issue). Filling up at the petrol station and I try out some of the local lingo on the attendant; turns out she's from Poland, so it's a wasted effort. Still, made me feel like I was trying.... a bit like my efforts with French!

Leaving Barnoldswick (the locals shorten it to Barlick) and we head towards Grassington. Our tour guide for the weekend is Steve and he seems to know all the small roads in the area. After a warm-up ride, we stop at Billy Bob's Ice Cream Parlour for coffee and to play on the climbing frames and swings. The scenery in the background hints at the beauty we'll see later.

Setting off again and I realise Mick is wearing a flouro yellow helmet.... What is this, another Bikerdom? Feels kinda surreal following myself, but I soon realise I'm not having an out of body experience. My current helmet is rather muted compared to my bike/jacket orange combo. Orange is so me, just need to find a matching helmet.

The small single track roads become strewn with gravel and apparently such is the skill required to negotiate them that Graham starts standing on his pegs. Probably more to stretch his legs than anything.

In Grassington there's a event taking place, with people dressed up in period military costumes. For once, our group of noisy bikers is not the centre of attention. The costumes are impressive and my favourite is woman in forties gear riding a bike with her small dog in the basket.

Lunch is at the Wensleydale Creamery, almost famed for being Wallace and Gommit's favourite place, but for legal reasons they can't say so. There's permanent cheese tasting available, which is a good starter before lunch. Lunch specials are Ham this and ham that, bacon this and bacon that. I completely miss the regular menu that includes plenty I could eat, but instead settle for a cheese and tomato sarnie.

The roads are filled with lycra clad cyclists, puffing and wheezing their way up the hills that we just breeze up with the flick of a wrist. I admire their perseverance and think when I'm old and grey.... ok, older and greyer.... and have to hang up my helmet, I'd like to do more cycling.

We branch off a minor road onto an even more minor road and have to stop to remove a tree branch blocking our route. Shortly after, we meet a large group of cyclists coming towards us, and I'm sure they won't thank us for clearing their path. We reach Britain's highest inn atop Tan Hill.

Our route is peppered with steep gradients, 16%, 18% and 20% and a few hairpin curves. Not in the same league as the Alps, but good riding. We ride across the dales sweeping oop and dahn admiring the magnificent vistas.

After we get back, we have a ruby murray for dinner and then we finish our wild evening in Steve's parlour.... drinking tea and checking our smart phones. We're hard bikers.

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Oopnarth, Day 0 - Getting There

To reach Oopnarth requires a transit via London. I start out from Brussels and within an hour I'm shuffling uncomfortably on my bikes saddle; the F800ST has an awful saddle that makes long trips torture. Petrol stops are a welcome relief, but unfortunately the BMW uses fuel so miserly these are all too infrequent.

Rain had been forecast for midday, and on disembarking from Eurotunnel, I find myself emerging into torrential rain. Puddles are sizable and cars and lorries throw up huge plumes of spray as they crash through them. Despite the conditions, the bike feels stable and not really affected by the surface water - the Michelin Pilot Road 4 tyres are doing their thing, effectively clearing a path. Cars are tiptoeing through the conditions and I find myself king of the fast lane for once. Luckily I prepared for the rain with my waterproofs, so I plough on dry and unaffected.

The rain clears by the time I reach London, but the still wet road generates a dirty film on my visor that I have to clear periodically. I'm no longer king of the fast lane and Audi man clings to my bumper with all the bravado four wheels can bring; I pull over at the first opportunity.

London M40, M42 Birmingham and then the M6 skirting Manchester. The bloody M6! Miles and miles of roadworks. Never, ever, have I encountered such extensive roadworks, tailbacks and stop start mile after mile - it's agony. Normally bikes can filter through such jams, but much of these roadworks are narrow lanes which makes filtering impossible, really difficult, or car horn inducing. It's made worse by my worn tyres; there's plenty of tread on them, but they've worn in such a way that it accentuates the tramlining effect and I find myself weaving erratically over the cats-eyes and overbanding.

The M65 eventually allows me to escape from the M6. This is more like it, as I burn off the cobwebs on the final leg into Oopnarth.

And then, 763km later, I am truly 'Oopnarth'. Steve says he's never seen me looking so knackered getting off a bike. And yes, they do speak funny. Aye-yah!

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Oopnarth, preparations - Biker Dom's biggest challenge yet?

Tomorrow Biker Dom will head off for what could be his biggest challenge yet: a trip to the fabled land of Oopnarth. Famed for its beautiful vistas, but wild and unpredictable local inhabitants, it's a land of lakes, hills, and inclement weather.

The roads should be mostly OK, but like in most of the exotic places Biker Dom has travelled to, the rules of the road are mostly made up, even if they are written down.  The big towns should have reliable electricity and infrastructure, but in the smaller outlying villages, where much of the region's charm lies, modern civilisation has barely had a chance to take hold.  However, the local people are known to be mostly friendly and welcoming, but communicating with them may prove tricky, as efforts to bring education to the masses has proved challenging with English only spoken in a few places.

Mobile phone coverage will also be patchy so Biker Dom's blog updates may be sporadic.  I'll do my best.

I'm looking forward to meeting up with a few of my biker buddies again as we take on this new challenge - bring it on!