Day 7 - on strike

Confucius once said 'Roads were made for journeys, not destinations' but I'm sure even the learned philosopher would have been glad to see his hotel at the end of the day, if his day had been like mine 😂

It's funny how in my head as I'm cycling along the mood of my proposed blog at the end of the day can change by the hour. I think of themes I want to run through it, but that theme may have changed completely in the next. Some things are important to mention in the first 5 miles, until they are overtaken by other more interesting thoughts or sights in the next 5.

When I set out this morning from my slightly crappy hotel (and bear in mind my standards for hotels are not necessarily that high) I was very british and didn't complain, mainly because the wifi, power and lights came back on and I'd slept. I was expecting a bit of a slog today. A decent amount of mileage with a decent amount of feet climbed, probably in hot weather again (I must be the only person in Nepal wishing for rain!) and another day of leg sapping up and down, though this time hopefully without any roadworks to speak of.

No breakfast because the hostess didn't offer anything more than a cup of tea, which was nice but I knew I was gonna have to find food fairly soon. The calories expended over the last 6 days must have been monumental and rolling 'hills' are the worst for energy expenditure.

I set off in reasonable time and battled the short stretch of roadworks on the highway until I reached the turnoff to the road that would take me all the way to Besisahar and the end of my 'warm up ride'.

It felt like it would be a monumental point in this journey given some of the days I had had. 

Given that much of the day kinda melded into one and I really can't separate one up from another, todays blog will be a series of observations in no particular order.... 

The houses along this road seemed to be of a better quality in general. More 3 story houses, well decorated. It was obvious that the tourist money had filtered down well to this little valley. The people, as always, when I passed by, waved, said hello or wanted to stop and talk which was easy as I was usually stopped halfway up a hill, catching my breath.

The descents were always down to bridges over streams heading towards the main river.... it always resulted in a loss of altitude (not good), a bit of speed for 5 seconds on the plummet down, followed by 10 minutes walking or stopping cycling every 10 seconds. The gradient up the other side always seemed steeper than the gradient down and when I looked behind me on the way up, the gradient was at least 15% if not more, explaining why I was struggling at least.

Inclines not out of the bridge area were generally cyclable although most of them had a sting in the tail at the top.... 

My legs were not playing ball today at all... they felt dead, devoid of life or feeling... not in the game.

I sat with a shopkeeper eating my new favourite crisps on a stool she had provided, watching the world go by in lieu of breakfast. Then later I found a small eatery (kinda). They kindly went and bought some bread, came back and made me fried bread and egg sandwiches. They were delicious.

My mood today vaccilated between no problem, I will be there by 3pm... to.. I'm never going to make it... Funnily enough it followed the ups and downs of the road.

The high mountains remained hidden most of the day. One revealed itself briefly behind the cloud but then dissappeared. I haven't earnt the right to gaze upon them yet.

The road surfaces, mostly tarmac with the odd section of rutted gravel and rocks. Up and down, interspersed with the most beautiful sections of plateau. Flat, smooth, past village shops and houses.... then all too soon back to the ups and the downs. 

I was cycling along happily watching the farmers in a field, when I screeched to a halt  and said 'bloody hell, not another heron!' (Trevor for you)... on 2nd glance it might not be, I leave that to you discern 🤔😉

I also saw a large bird of prey wheeling on the breeze, I managed to grab a photo but not enough to really see it. I did get a good look with my eyes. though and thank you to google again, think that it may be a steppe eagle. Its wingspan was certainly big enough. It could also possibly have been a crested serpant eagle as on google their colouration is fairly similar. Of course it could be none of those 😂

The most surprising creature I saw today, was when I was stopped, catching my breath again, on a particularly horrible gradient. I caught movement out of  the corner of my eye, in a hole in the mud embankment... 

A crab.... 

Really?? 

Here?? 

Definately a crab! 

My legs, as mentioned above, not in the game today although every time. I cursed them and then looked backwards at the gradient they had just carried me up, it was unsurprising that after the 20 or so miles today and lots of other hard days already in the bag with not huge amounts of food, that they were going to go on strike at somepoint... and thus the title of the blog was born and gained traction over the course of the last 8 or so miles.

The last 8 miles.... 

each half mile was now taking forever. There were no gradual ups, it was steep up, steep down.  I dreaded the downs all day, because I knew the altitude at which Besisahar lay (2600ft) and every time I went down, I knew that I would quickly lose hundreds of hard fought feet. To balance that, I was thinking, well at least the miles are going by. But it didn't seem to balance well in my headspace. Down was to be dreaded almost as much as the up. 

I was crawling. My legs had deserted me... gone on strike... and my bike had been co-opted into the picket line. Every now and again, usually on the steepest sections, the chain would slip off the front chain ring, leaving me peddling furiously but going nowhere but unbalanced. Cue foot down quickly, dismount, remount the chain, and then try sometimes with success, but often not, to get going again.

I get it... working conditions and employee care had not been that great. Caked in mud and definately not looking its best. Asked to lug heavy loads without a health and safety check. The picket line was up and a strike was about to come in full force. 

With about 3 miles to go, it slipped again. and for about the 5th time today, I popped it back on the chain ring, noticing as I did so that one of the links was bent and cracked.

I would have to look at that when I got to the hotel tonight and spend some time taking care of my bike, I thought. 

On I went... 

2.5 miles to go and disaster struck... 

crunch... my legs went spinning around and I only just managed not to fall off. I swore. This sounded worse and my fears were confirmed the moment I saw my chain trailing on the ground. Bugger, snapped it!

I walked my bike to a bus shelter, where a gentleman was sitting. On hearing that I had snapped my chain, he at once became interested and helpful. I said I had tools and a chain link. It would just take some time. He sat down on the ground with me and held the rest of the chain whilst I broke off the offending link... only to notice that 3 more link were also cracked. One by one I removed them. I only had 2 12 speed chain links alrhough I did have an assortment of others but  looking at the rest of the chain it seemed I had done more damage than I had first thought.

Together we sat and threaded the shorter chain through the derailleur and tried to bring both ends together... even with 2 chain links it was too short. I needed a new chain. Plus even if I could cobble together something... how well would it hold for the next, possibly more testing part of this journey.

The gentleman helping me, my latest trail angel, Suraj Adhikari and an assortment of kids, pondered the problem. Suraj phoned a mechanic friend but he did not have a suitable chain. He then organised a ride on another rickety-shaw to take me to my hotel and then I could go to a bike shop (if I could find one) tomorrow, or phone one in Pokhara if there wasn't one in Besisahar to send one up the road as it were.

So once again, I found myself and my bike in a rickety-shaw... only this time as the driver had no rope, I was knelt on the back seat, holding my bike inside. It was quite funny to say the least.

I had been contemplating a rest day before the second part of this journey anyway but it has been enforced. I had found a nice hotel to spend 2 nights and as it was Nepal, it didn't cost a fortune. So be it.

Tomorrows blog will undoubtedly be less interesting although some of you may wish to follow my quest to find a bike shop and a chain to fit my bike.

I got to the hotel, where they accepted my bleeding muddy, dust covered self without a blink of an eye, carried my bike up 1 floor to a very nice room, where I discovered the menu for room service.

Jumped in my first hot shower for 5 days and oh boy was it good. I also shoved some body wash onto my cycle shorts and socks  and stamped on them in the shower (bikepackers laundry). Hopefully they will dry by the time I have to put them back on! 

The pizza was devoured in a blink of an eye but my eyes had been too big for my stomach and I failed to finish the chips as well. Washed down with a sweet lassi... life seemed like it couldn't get better.

So a few things to sort tomorrow... negotiate better working conditions for my chain and bike might be a good place to start to avert another strike 😂

Until then... 

LHS