MdS - Day 4/5 (11/12 April) the Long Day, 86km

Day 4
The Long Day, the one everyone dreads! 86km.

We have 35 hrs to complete it. Dunes, jebels and dried up river beds. Feeling the heat already. Run walk is the name of the game! That speedy Chris is an hour ahead of me in the rankings and there's no way to catch him. But, never give up!

Overnight we'd all been finding ways to lighten our loads, discarding 'frivolities' like cooking stoves in some cases. Mentally, the way to approach such a long run is not to think about it! Your target is not the finish line, it is the next check point; reach that and then you have a new target. Having bite size chunks makes the day more achievable. I'd loaded my front pack with the day's provisions, trail mix and a few energy tabs but by CP4, at 48km, my trail mix was exhausted, so I had to raid the supplies for Day 5, no big deal because that's treated as an extension of day 4 anyway.

Seeing my progress was being hindered by the pain of my blisters, old and new, plus a tightness behind my knee, I decided to pop a magic pill, an ibuprofen, frowned upon in endurance races because of its side effects. It worked and I perked up.

By this time we'd already tackled a few sandy, rocky climbs, various dunes and a river bank and maze of bushes, but from here on it was mostly gentle dunes and sand, lots of it, which saps your energy making each km seem like two.

The top fifty runners set off three hours after the main group and it's nice to see them overtake us in style, but, even the top guys and gals walk up the steep bits, using the hands on knees technique for assistance - they are mortal after all! I stop, clap and capture the moment the leader 'zooms' past.

I was pleasantly surprised that 'fast Dominic' and Gemma gave me encouraging words as they cruised by; really, really touched.

CP5 is traditionally a rest area and many people stop, sleep and have a meal before pushing on. I chose to just push on, my meal was a sachet of Peronin, 450kCals of easily absorbed carbohydrates.

At CP7, with 10km to go, I used my only energy gel of the trip so far, one with caffeine; I also changed the batteries in my head torch, which was by this time barely candle bright. And then, just about to leave, I bumped into Christopher . We'd not seen each other the entire stage as we were running at different paces. The race is on and the competitor in me takes over.

A runner overtook me shortly after leaving CP7 and I followed her for a time alternating running walking before she disappears into the distance, but she has managed to pull me along psychologically and I'm grateful for that.

With about four km to go, the finish line came into view, and then promptly disappeared behind a dune. But each time I saw it again, the bloody thing was not getting any closer! Eventually it did look within range and I burst into a run for the final 500m, overtaking several depleted walkers in the process.

Nearly 2am (on Day 5), are we there yet? YES! Just under 18 hours by my clock.

My friend Steve King is following the progress of Chris and I, live from the comfort of his home, and posted the following "Outstanding Christopher Ian Wilson  and Dominic Hayes !!!!!! Both have finished the 86.2km long stage of the MDS WITHOUT STOPPING TO SLEEP! They ran in to the night and finished in the early hours. Hopefully they will now sleep most of the day whilst the others finish. A full marathon tomorrow as a 'reward'!! Amazing guys, well done. X"
Many thanks Steve, you were my inspriation to run the MDS.

Day 5  - Recovery day
As I write this we are still awaiting Mahmut's return, the others in our tent trickled back at various times during the night. I'm guessing he's taking his time, after all, he still has another eight hours.

About 17h, in the distance we see car lights flashing and two camels. It's Mahmut, our 72 yr old tent mate, arriving after 34hrs and 86 km. We all gather at the finish line to cheer him and see he's bent sideways in a stoop and using a makeshift walking stick. Approaching to rapturous applause by all the competitors and organisers, he crosses the timing beacon and is mobbed by a sea of adoring fans and cameras; hardly a dry eye in the house. He recovers sat down drinking hot sweet tea and later collapses onto his matting in our tent and has a good sleep. He made it! (Video here)

Mahmut arriving after trekking 34hrs through the Sahara (photo: Paul Colledge)

Personal update: I smell really bad, despite my impromptu bottle shower earlier today.

MdS - Day 3 (10 April), the Jebels Day, 30km

It hits us just after midnight, I look out and can just make out the approaching freight train that is a desert sandstorm. I grab my gear and warn the others just before the wind strikes the camp.  At some point the tent collapses on us and we sleep like that until about 5am, holding on to what we can until the morning while all about us tents flap and people run around in a flap trying to stop tents and gear flying away.

We wake to find everything covered in sand. Tent mates, Pip and Mahmut are trapped under the tent and can't get out.  Pip's in a bit of a panic as she has to be at reception for her ride back to civilisation. It's hard to imagine that things will be running on time today. We dig them out.

Pip, is having to drop out as she developed heart problems, but she is 69. Yes, you read that right, 69! It's a shame we're losing her, this is her second attempt and she's unlikely get the medical OK to return. We'll see her back in Ouazazate once we've finished the event.

Despite the chaos of the night the stage is starting on time.  We brush and shake the sand out of everything and struggle into our running gear.

We were told to expect a tough day even though it was only 30km. The jebel we had climbed the day before, we'd do again in reverse, including the enormous sand dune at its foot that was such fun to run down. In fact it was a day of jebels (mini-mountains). The first was a climb to a ridge with spectacular views either side, of dried up river beds framed by similar mountainous ridges.

Following that ridge we dropped through a pass then up another jebel before dropping to another valley floor and a slog to the big jebel. Climbing the sand dune was tough but at the really steep bit at the top a rope was installed to assist; the sand was so soft I can't imagine how else it could be climbed except by going vertical on the rock face.

A couple of welcome signs greeted us at the bottom of one jebel.  Alas, they were fake news....  Steve Diederich's little joke, a nice touch!

Amazingly Mahmut manages to finish, albeit wrecked, and he is 72! So you see, it's not so tough, right? In reality, the competitor in you makes it as tough as you want.

MdS - Day 2 (9 April), Dunes and a big Jebel, 39km

We're in the Sahara and yet my phone has got signal!

It's a day of two halves. Cool and windy start and I'm wearing a windproof over my running gear. I probably take it off too late as I'm sweating profusely. Ran halftime to Checkpoint 1 (CP1), then walked from there to CP2 getting slower as I arrive.

At CP2 I load up with "Peronin" and water and a slowly saunter with a full stomach being overtaken left right and centre until we hit the dunes. I speed up a little, and overtake a few other runners before we hit a dreaded jebel. Then something strange happens. We climb through rocks and suddenly my turbocharger kicks in and now it's me overtaking people like a mountain goat. I lost count of how many, but it must have been over fifty. At the top a marshal asks how I'm feeling; "I'm fine but the chicken is suffering!" It's a partial rope assisted descent in deep sand, and CP3 awaits at the base, just 4km from the finish.

A welcome sight (photo: Paul Colledge)

From there it's a final fast walk with an occasional burst of running to use a different set of muscles. I know I have blisters, but I'm too afraid to take my socks off.

The heat and loose terrain have taken their toll on my feet and I head to the Doc Trotters medi-tent to have my three blisters looked at - donning surgical gloves the nurse lances them with a hypodermic needle. Ouch! I almost hit the roof, there's blood everywhere.  Except it's not blood, it's the antiseptic fluid they use to wash out and dry the blister, what a wuss!

The nurse, one of many volunteers supporting the event, wraps my toes to help them heal.  I now have the Doc Trotters waddle in my plastic slippers.

MdS - Day 1 (8 April), the Race Starts, 33km

Another amazing sunrise, but it was even colder last night. Down sleeping bag, liner and down fleece. Woken by the calls of the Berbers as they prepare to disassemble the camp. The noise level rises as people wake, trucks start, fires are lit and breakfasts consumed; an army prepares to march! Today is the first real day of the race, 30 or so km through varied terrain including soft sand dunes.

The Berbers pack up the bivouac (photo: Paul Colledge)

The tent disappears before runners are ready (photo: Paul Colledge)

Too late for nerves, Chris and I are here, we're dressed and those there are running shoes strapped to our feet!

A few minutes to go and we're all gathered at the start. There's a Roman gladiator, a Japanese guy in a traditional yukata, straw hat and wooden geta flip-flops, a man in a velour coverall costume, a women dressed as a strawberry and aubergine, and a chicken (that would be Arthur). I've already been found by a group that aims to "find the chicken" every day. 33km ahead.

Patrick Bauer introduces himself and says a few words of encouragement. The start gun fires and AC/DC's “Highway to Hell” blares out on the PA system as we cross across the start line - no doubt a taste of what to expect.  Responding to the crack of the start gun, the front-runners shoot off and the stream of runners disappears into the distance.  Overhead, the media helicopter whizzes-by, like something out of Apocalypse Now, filming us at key points and acting as a command relay, and if needed as a medi-vac.

Actually a picture from day 2, but the helicopter buzz was the same

It wasn't quite hell, but it was a tough intro day. But it is just an 'intro' and worse is to be expected. Some dunes, some flats, some mild hills.

I manage to run half of the time. Unless you're an elite runner, Marathon des Sables sees you walking way more than you expect; some walk all the way, but that's not easy either. Chris walks almost all of it and he's only 20 minutes slower than me! Makes you realise the run/walk difference is not so big.

MdS - A cold desert morning (7 April)

Awoke to be greeted by a cold desert morning but a glorious sunrise over a sea of black tents.

Our somewhat glamorous mid-night tent addition was awake doing her make-up and brushing her hair before disappearing, never to be seen again! Come on men, snap out of it!

Mad panic ensues to get our kit organised for the compulsory checks this morning. All hands on deck. Still no sign of Chris!  I will be going signal 'grey', if not 'dark', over the next seven days in the desert.  I'll check in when and where I can.  You actually get fined if you're caught on your mobile talking in the camp and are expected to walk away from the camp if you have any mobile conversations - but realistically we are expected not to do any of that nonsense, many people came here to escape the real world.  I'm not sure who enforces the fine anyway.

I finally found Chris in Tent 116.  He's shoe-horned into one of eight places there.  Each black bivouac tent is supposed to sleep eight, but we have only five in our tent so it's positively palatial, give or take a rock or two under the mat, and the nighttime draft, and the snoring. And don't forget the farting, boy we had some rippers last night, I'm surprised the tent is still standing!  

It's like the inter-school sports day has arrived and we're waiting nervously in the various queues eyeing up the competition before our races. The star athletes from the rival school float by as if on air and suddenly your expectations are dashed. Us mere mortals will be glad to finish, while the elites battle over the honours for the top 50 places. 

Kit checked, essentials issued (including Spot GPS trackers, empowered by my friends from GPS 2SOPS and Globalstar), bags weighed and we're ready to roll! We have our official photo taken by the organisers, this is the "before" picture, probably also useful for the Moroccan equivalent to Crimewatch - have you seen these men wandering the desert?  Also, I'm not sure it's a good omen that my solar charger has melted in the sun, I kid you not ...  Gulp.

Chris is runner #671 and I'm #461.  Track us via the MdS website here. 

Intrepid or decrepit adventurers? 

This is the last day of food provided by the organisers and we enjoy an evening feast and load up with protein and carbs from the food tent and sit outside (warm, but getting cooler) partly illuminated by our head torches and the camp floodlights.  There's a real atmosphere and everyone is excited if not a little anxious.

Early to bed, for tomorrow, it starts.....

MdS - The Wild Geese? (6 April)

There's a large gathering of various athletic types at South Terminal. The sort you might see prior to the overthrow of an authoritarian regime in some far flung corner of the globe. Secret signs are oversized water bottles slung from the shoulders like high calibre weapons and ammo belts, and curious Velcro attachments to humongous trainers. 

Sarah, from UK organisers RunUltra, greets everyone as we check-in for our early flight, giving us UK MdS luggage tags and a UK MdS wrist band. We are flying on Titan Airways, a charter flight specialist, direct to Ouarzazate, the "Gateway to the Sahara". Somehow Chris and I have ended up on different flights, his leaves later, so I'll hook up with him in Morocco.

I'm in seat 1A, but it's definitely not business class, even though I have lots of legroom; Arthur stuffed into an overhead locker is not so lucky. Sitting next to me on the flight is Rory Coleman, cool as a cucumber listening to his iPod; he's an MdS guru and has done the MdS 14 times before! 14 times!!! We chat briefly before other passengers engulf him in questions.  One of the other passengers is none other than Sophie Raworth, the BBC newsreader and journalist.  She's an avid runner and, like me, is doing this for the first time.

Touchdown and through the slow queue into immigration. It's not a large airport and perhaps we are one of only a handful of flights that day, so the two immigration desks are flat out dealing with the 200 arrivals.  The man in front of me has an unusual Muslim name and chats to the immigration official about it, confirming the spelling. He seems much older than the majority of entrants, but looks in good shape. I've heard the oldest Britain to complete the event was 75, but someone even older has completed it as well!

We exit the terminal to cheers and clapping and are each greeted personally by race director, the legendary Patrick Bauer, a man who walked across the Sahara in the seventies and who then organised this annual event of lunacy. 

We now wait for the coach to leave the airport, it's hot and the coach's a/c is struggling to fend off the heat; while outside, the locals hide under trees. It's a six hour ride to the bivouac where we'll camp for a day before the race starts on Sunday morning.

The coach winds its way through the mountains and the heat does not abate. The thought of this for seven days, without the mechanical assistance or a/c, is beginning to raise doubts in my mind (really, only now? I can hear you say...)  The scenery is spectacular with mile after mile of rocky vistas interspersed with sandy bits.  Lunch at the side of the road is a tin of tuna, some bread and cheese, nuts and fruit, washed down by a sugary drink and water. Sustenance is what it is.

Arrival at the camp is in darkness. Tired, luggage is dragged from the coach and through the sand to join queues at the camp entry.  Reading blogs during my preparation has warned me to prepare for the MdS queues, but this one passes relatively quickly and I'm assigned Tent123.  No sign of Chris and there's no way to reserve a space for him with the system in place. Foolishly I don't have his telephone number so I desperately send out a Facebook post asking people to let him know, which they do, but he has switched off his phone!

Tent 123 is already occupied and I say hello to Colin, Keith and Pip.  Colin and Keith are brothers, both keen runners and Pip, from Elephant and Castle, is an amazing 69 year old, still full of energy!  Later we're joined by Mahmut, the man in front of me at immigration, and in the middle of the night by a young lady, who seems rather nervous. But still no sign of Chris! 

MdS - the journey commences (5 April)

A bit of a low key start to a big adventure. First it's a bus to Brussels Midi Station. accompanied by long suffering Keren (already planning the house parties I bet!), then a Eurostar to London. Lunch with mater is planned, then on to Gatwick for a Morocco bound flight in the morning.

I'm meeting up with biker buddy Chris, who had the foresight (stupidity?) to sign-up for this event more than a year in advance, so he could do some decent training, plan his food and get advice from people at the MdS Expo event in London. We've been virtual training together via the Strava app since January, logging the progress of our runs, commenting and sharing advice; it's been a good motivator for both of us. We plan to be desert and tent buddies too.

Coming down from York, Chris joins me at Gatwick's Hilton hotel for the overnight stop before the flight. Also joining me at the hotel is my new 'hot sleeping buddy': a slim and lightweight, but perfectly puffed-out, down sleeping bag (what did you think it was - this is a family show!), custom manufactured for me by PHDesigns of somewhere Oopnarth.  Hopefully she'll keep me warm on cold lonely desert nights, without getting me too sweaty!  A mix up with her factory dispatch meant that I was not able to receive her in time for packing, but luckily the hotel was happy to receive it for me. Phew!  The backup option, an older bag in my collection, is almost double the weight (690g) and not as warm, and will now be consigned to the suitcase for the entire adventure.

In the lobby I spy the famous runner and previous winner of the MdS, Elisabet Barnes. It's her myRaceKit shop that I've purchased much of my gear from and she's a repository of good advice too.

Chris and I do some last minute packing, and especially food rationalisation before heading out for dinner in the Gatwick South terminal. Returning to the hotel we continue packing, essentially focusing on what we'll be carrying on the flight and what we'll check in.  Without doubt, I will carry as hand luggage, anything essential and personal to my run.  That includes, my running shoes, that I'll wear, backpack and waist-pack, socks, some food, specialised sweat wicking shorts, running top and hat, torch and electrical stuff.  If the suitcase gets lost in transit I should be able to scrounge the missing kit and food at the camp (this is the general advice to all runners).  Also in the hand luggage is Arthur the chicken, joining me fresh from his Everest adventure and looking forward to being baked in the desert. 

Chris has brought so much food that it barely fits in his suitcase let alone his bag, I manage to persuade him to do some extreme rationalisation and eventually it fits with the help of gravity. 

Chris packs it all in, somehow!

MdS - charity thank you!

Thank you to all you lovely people who've helped me reach my fundraising target. Be sure to follow my progress on the MDS website and send me messages of support - I'm told these are very uplifting after an exhausting day in the hot sand.

MdS - Nightboat to Cairo?

A message from a Facebook friend: Dominic I hope you're going to dress up and dance like this across the Sahara !!!  

Nightboat to Cairo - Madness

:D

MdS - All in aid of...

The Marathon des Sables is billed as the toughest foot race on Earth: 250km across the baking Sahara desert over seven days, carrying all your own food and equipment; who am I to argue?

I've set-up a webpage for those who would like to donate to some good causes that I'm supporting all in aid of causing me pain, see: https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/bikerdom

Some would question my sanity in running 250 km across the desert. But in reality, running and exercise are great ways to get your mind in gear. I honestly didn't set out to raise money for charity, it was purely the latest chapter in my midlife crisis management plan... Volume VIII, I think. But if something good can come out of my event for those not able to do what I can, then brilliant.

I'm supporting SANE and Macmillan Cancer Support, both charities I feel connected to after some recent events, both at work and home. 

MdS Food

As if 250km through the desert isn't enough, one thing that makes the event even tougher is that you have to carry your supplies with you.  All food for seven days, your sleeping kit, stove and emergency/medical kits. Fortunately, water and shelter are provided.  

Here's a photo of the food that I'll be carrying through the MdS, it's about 2500 kCals per day, plus my homemade hot water stove, top right. Cordon Bleu it is not, but hopefully it will keep me fueled sufficiently to finish the event. Carefully selected based upon advice gained from the internet and previous competitors reports, it's mainly dehydrated and easy to prepare using a spoon and hot water. It's arranged in daily rations composed of breakfast, trail mix and energy supplies, recovery shake, and evening meal, each package labeled with its calorie content. On a tip from my father, I've also include daily sachets of vinegar to stave off cramps that I get rather too easily.  A few tasty treats are included to entice my taste buds after a hot day in the sand - slithers of Parmesan cheese and some salami type snacks - after all, I am a bit of an animal!

My MdS Food

Homemade solid fuel stove, made from an old biscuit tin

Lightweight!

And can be dismantled to be carried easily

MdS - A new adventure - The Marathon des Sables

I first started blogging as a way to share my adventures on two wheels.  But Biker Dom is embarking on a new adventure, not on two wheels, but two legs.  In fact the following entries originally posted on Facebook are being re-posted after that adventure so that they can reach a wider audience, and I'll give you a clue, I'm writing them now, backdated - so I survived! I hope you enjoy them....

After five months of training (driving Mrs Hayes mad with late dinners and running gear scattered all over the house), I'm about to embark on my greatest challenge yet: the Marathon des Sables in Morocco. Although it's a 'marathon' previously completed by a blind runner, a man with no arms, and even a man with no legs, 250km in Sahara Desert heat over six days, while carrying your own food and sleeping under the stars, will not be a walk in the park. My friends Steve, Hugo, Gerard and Nick (names you'll have seen scattered throughout my blog) have done it before, and I'll be joining (another buddy featured in my blog) Chris Wilson to do this event, which starts next Sunday (8 May). If you feel so inclined, I'll be raising money in £ for Macmillan Cancer Support and Sane, the mental health charity (https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/bikerdom) and in € for The Resto du Cœur charity, which provides community support and food for those in need (https://www.facebook.com/donate/2083226688622850/).
Finishing is winning! The question is, who to take, Ducky or Arthur?

Tibet Day 11, Shannan Prefecture to Lhasa

The last day and we leave around 9 to try to get back to the Lhasa hotel by early afternoon so that we can handover the bikes and maybe do some shopping.

An uneventful trip back on the same road we took to get to Shannan. As I said yesterday, Shannan is modern, but doesn't really have a beating heart. There are people about, but as Steve said, it's like they are there for show, just to prove the city is inhabited.

The same lavender coloured flowers lined the route (although I still think they are not lavender), the river looking like a lake, the sleepy villages with 30kph speed limits that no one obeys. The same speed camera posts that flash at you no matter what speed you do, the same lumbering lorries and agricultural vehicles to overtake, the same sweeping roads to enjoy for the last time; except today, Biker Dom wound back the throttle to make steady rather than swift progress.

No events in the tunnel, sunglasses removed where needed and lights switched on in advance. As it happens, the return tunnel is illuminated much better than the other tunnel carriageway. Some of us gun the engines in the tunnel to hear that Zuumav sing - they sound better than they go.

One highlight is that as there were no police at the entrance to the motorway, we snuck on without anyone blocking our way.... No, that happens at the end when we meet, yep, you guessed it, YAFC! Wang, our guide was told off enthusiastically by a policeman, but I think it was received like water off a duck's back. It's a stupid rule not to allow motorcycles on the motorway, probably aimed at the 100cc bikes used by locals as cheap transport, which can't get to motorway speeds. While we have Zuumavs, which just about get to motorway speeds, and then shower you with radiator juice when they overheat! Only Big Al on his Benelli and Alex and Vidya on the Tenere, are really comfortable on the motorway with speed to spare - the rest of us are flat out in top sounding like a group of angry hornets, but with no sting.

The motorway saved us time and we arrive in the city around 1pm ready to get lost in the Lhasa traffic. We don't do so bad though and are back at the hotel before 2pm.

Handshakes and hugs all round, and Big Al hoists me on his shoulder like a rag doll, legs flailing for good effect. Arthur clucks his appreciation too. Mick and Mark join us and we give our thanks to Wang, Migmar and mechanic Lou in our usual way. Group pictures with us all and one of the shots will make it to the blog eventually.

Farewell dinner tonight then preparations for our departure. Some of the lads are off to Bhutan for a few days; it will be interesting to hear what that's like. Biker Dom will hang up his Sidis and is off to Shanghai for a satellite navigation conference. In real life he wears a tie....

Sent from my rusty BlackBerry

Tibet Day 10, Lhasa to Shannan Prefecture

A leisurely start after so many early mornings and long days, it almost feels like a rest day.
Today we're off to Shannan Prefecture, but first we have to leave the city, which is easier said than done. After a few detours we end up on the road to the airport which, if you paid attention while reading the Day -1 entry (you didn't know there'd be a test, right?), you'll know tunnels through a mountain. I follow behind Alan Alan and can't believe he doesn't have his lights on; he must have the eyes of a cat in a tunnel with very little lighting! Later he tells me he can't reach the light switch with the bar muffs in place. I'm more worried that he can't be seen, but as I'm behind him with my lights on, I guess that's covered. More dramatic is Simon's progress through the tunnel. He has his lights on, but also his sunglasses! He can't see a thing as the lights get dimmer further into the mountain. Deciding it's too dangerous to ride without being able to see - sensible - he stops in the tunnel, in the left hand lane, to take his shades off. There's a car right behind him that has to brake sharply to avoid hitting him and then of course toots at him wildly. Fortunately we all make it out alive.

Across the long low bridge over the wide and relatively dry, Yarlung Zangbo river bed, we turn left at the edge of the valley and follow it. The river widens in places to almost resemble a lake and a few of the guys stop to take photos at vantage points.

My bike now decides it will only start in neutral. That's how it should for safety, given that it doesn't have a side stand switch, but that it chooses to behave that way after many days of riding, is very odd and annoying as the Zuumav neutral is all but impossible to find.

The road along the river is relatively quiet and we poodle along behind Wang in a relaxed manner. After passing YAFC (at which Matt recreates Hugo's famous pose, with the addition of one finger as a salute to the French - we English are a nation of archers after all!) Alex takes over and we can move at a less catatonic rate. Overtakes are easy on the wide straight roads and we make good progress. The side of the road is lined with purple/violet flowers which I assume are lavender, but the smell is missing; and here the train hasn't quite reached yet, but the massive concrete pylons are in place ready for the overhead track.

We enter a small town and stop at a roadside restaurant. There's a halal one too and I'm able to top up my protein intake with something other than eggs. Beef, potatoes, peppers and chillies, yummy. I'm surprised how many Muslims there are in Tibet. I guess it should be no surprise given that to the north is Xinjiang province which is majority Muslim and which is also subject to a major clampdown by the authorities. Danny reports that the wifi at the restaurant next door is superfast and he gets a download rate of 38Mbps, which easily beats the 8Mbps max that I get just outside the 'capital of Europe' in Belgium.

Then a few more kms and we reach the city/town of Shannan. It's seems like a new city and one that hasn't yet matured into a living city. There are a myriad of official buildings, an Olympic stadium (presumably to help Chinese athletes get high altitude training) and army buildings. Our hotel is a surprise though, it is more comfortable than we expected, but the wifi is poor - booo! - and only one elevator works, and we're all on the fifth floor with heavy bags! Once the luggage is dropped off, Christopher and I "Fartlek" up and down the stairs as training - he's doing the Marathon de Sables in 2018!

A quick stop at the hotel and then a few of us ride to the Yumbo Lha Khang monastery, which is older than the Potala Palace and used to be where the Tibetan king lived before he moved to Lhasa. It's a heavy breathing climb to reach it, but you can also hire a horse to do the sweating for you. Inside was described by some as gaudy and by others as more interesting than the Potala Palace. I didn't go in because I had chosen the scramble up to the high-point (3750m) above the monastery and it took me a while to go up and down.

The views from the top were great and you could see the fertile land surrounding the monastery where potatoes, vegetables and barley (used to make the local Lhasa beer) are grown. Climbing to the high-point was made all the more treacherous by having to clamber over all the prayer flags draped over the summit and surrounds.

Back at the hotel and we enjoy a feast served from a slowly rotating electric lazy susan, which Alex loves to play with. Then it's bed and blogging (for some) and preparation for our last day of riding.

Sent from my trusty rusty BlackBerry