Sport-heute: Sailing - Biking with Buddha

10. September 2009, 14:33

Biking with Buddha

By René Wildhaber

I am sitting in the garden of the Jigmet Guest House in Leh, Northern India, right in the heart of the Himalayan Mountains. The waiter brought me a large pot of chai, which is black tea with a characteristic spice mixture, milk and lots of sugar. I enjoy the flowers in the garden, because I have not seen many flowers over the past few weeks. Instead, I have enjoyed the most incredible experiences. They are spread out on the table in front of me in the form of entries in my diary. While I am busy summarizing them, the journey passes through my mind.

Brüttisellen, 10.9.09 (mk) My trip through Asia started in Japan. Although this was not my first visit to Japan, the vast influence of technology on everyday life here never fails to fascinate me. Tokyo’s nightlife pulsates at its fastest at around midnight, and everything is bathed in bright neon light.

Yoshiaki Kamioka and Tomio Sakaeda, both employees of Goldwinn, the importers of Scott bicycles in Japan, invited Mesum Verddma, a photographer, and me for a meal in the chic Shibuya neighborhood. Brand-new cars seem to float on the noise-absorbing surface of the streets; taxicab doors open automatically. The loudest noise is made by cicadas living in choice, carefully manicured trees.

I was visiting Japan for the Nozawa Downhill Marathon, Japan’s largest downhill marathon, with some 600 participants. The marathon took place in pouring rain, and I was the first to cross the finish line. But personally, the highlight of my visit was a climb up the holy mountain, Mount Fuji.

From Tokyo to New Delhi
Only a few hours later, I was transported into a different world: New Delhi, India. Here, you need muscle power to close the door of a taxicab and strong nerves to make your way through the throng of aggressive taxi drivers before settling down in the vehicle you want to be in. Deep holes in the streets replace Tokyo’s noise-absorbing surfaces, traffic is slow, the air is saturated with exhaust fumes and the revolting odor of animal excrements. Cows enjoy an even higher status here than in Japan, but only live cows. Holy cows are everywhere, and they are treated with great respect. Although I have traveled extensively in my life, New Delhi was the place where I experienced the first culture shock of my life.

Mesum was accustomed to this, because he is Indian, but lives in Switzerland. He also wanted to escape New Delhi’s hectic pace as quickly as possible. Our next destination was the green Kullu Valley. Following various negotiations and a 16-hour eventful bus trip we finally arrived in Manali. Dorjee Tsering, who was to be our guide for the next few weeks, met us with great enthusiasm. We assembled our bikes in the garden of his house with a cow and a calf as patient onlookers.

Manali lies some 2,000 meters above sea level at the foot of the Himalayas. It is therefore the ideal location to acclimatize. We prepared for the central Himalayan Mountains – more than double the altitude of Manali – by taking short excursions on our bikes.

After a few days, we felt ready for the big leap. We forwarded our expedition material and took a taxi to the starting point of our adventure, Darsha, which we reached after a wild trip on questionable roads. In Darsha, we were joined by our cook, Tashi Phutsok, and our horse leader, Santosh, the two completing our team. From now on, horses would carry our luggage while Dorjee, Mesum and I rode our bikes and snapped photographs.

A fascinating yet simple everyday routine began to develop: the day started with a “good morning” chai, followed by breakfast, decamping and loading the horses. Once all of this had been completed, nothing was able to prevent us from swinging onto our bikes.

Nomads with yaks and bikes
We traveled on different paths every day and discovered new landscapes, which never failed to impress me deeply. I find it nearly impossible to describe the fascination which the mountains in the Himalayas exert on me. Mesum’s photographs are much more capable of expressing what I mean. We were far away from civilization, which had its disadvantages. As early as the second day we crossed the Shingu La pass at a height of 5,100 meters covered in 60 centimeters of fresh snow.

I had to push or carry my bike for a full eight hours. I felt like a packhorse myself, although they carried my luggage. At least, no one suffered altitude sickness. After the forced march, we granted the horses and ourselves a day of rest, during which I gave our crew a course in riding a bike – my first course at 4,600 meters above sea level!

The area is nearly devoid of people. Occasionally, we crossed paths with other travelers. At one time we met a group of nomadic women and watched them milk yaks. We tasted the fresh milk and the smoked cheese, which remains fresh for a long time. I myself come from a family of mountain farmers, but what I see here is completely different. The women sing while working, which appears to calm the animals. As a small sign of our gratitude, I offered them a ride on the bike. Although women in the Himalayas do not know how to cycle, they enjoyed being pushed on a bicycle, and one of them praised it for being a “good horse”.

A little later, the first village we entered on our trip – Kargyak – glistened white against the ochre surroundings. Very quickly, the village youth had assembled, and each one wanted to take a ride on my bike, which I naturally permitted them to do. The village school was run by a teacher from the Czech Republic, and he invited us to visit the school. Thanks to donations, which he had organized himself, and with the financial help of emigrated Nepalese workers now living abroad, the school building had nearly been completed.

From monastery to monastery
As the climate was growing increasingly sunny and warm, the single trails grew better and the joy of biking increased day by day. Buddhist stupas and Mani walls symbolize the population’s religious leanings. Stupas are whitewashed, mound-like structures containing Buddhist relics. At the same time they serve to guide the way to the next monastery and provide insight into its Buddhist teaching direction. The loosely stapled brick mounds are called Mani walls. Some of the Manis contain mantras carved into the brick walls. As is the case with all Buddhist holy places, anyone who walks around a Mani counter-clockwise will be blessed.

Pukthal Gompa is the oldest monastery in the Zanskar region. For about 1,000 years it seemed to have stuck to a rock like a swallows’ nest. The monks were fascinated by the bikes and the Red Bull helmet, and they tried out both. Only a few of the monks had ever seen a bicycle close up. Although the head of the monastery was less amused by the commotion, he invited us to salted-butter tea and dal bat (rice with lentils), a typical meal. Freshly restored, Mesum and Dorjee hoisted two prayer flags.

The visit to the monastery gave me new energy, too, and for the first time at this altitude I was able to “put the pedal to the metal”. The trail meandered along the Tsarap River, rising and falling, now technical, then enormously fast, and completely to my taste. To my own surprise, I survived the interval training at 4,000 meters with sore legs, but without a headache.

Genghis Khan’s source of energy
On the ninth day of our journey we reached Padum, a village with a street. Because the village is located on a transit route, its traditional characteristics had changed. There were small shops and garbage was strewn around. The people wore jeans instead of their traditional woolen clothing, which is better suited to the climate and the geography. Thanks to electricity, telephones, television, trucks and motorcars, a faster pace had put its stamp on people’s lives. We were able to progress faster, too, and with my pedals overtook the mules by several hours.

I used the time I had gained to watch an old peasant woman separating barleycorns from straw. This works best with the help of the wind, which is supported by soft whistling. As a reward, butter tea and barley meal, called zampa, were served. One shoves zampa into one’s mouth and then washes it down with butter tea. I did not find the procedure easy at all: the barley meal entered my windpipe, which is an extremely unpleasant experience. Genghis Khan’s victorious army is said to have lived on zampa, butter tea and air-dried meat. The life of this peasant woman, however, impressed me much more. She works every day without the pressure of time from sunrise to sunset.

The zampa energy came in handy since we had to master another nine passes ahead of us. The highest of these passes is the Sengi La with an altitude of 4,900 meters. While the ascent grew increasingly steep, and I often had to shoulder my bike, the single trails grew all the more flowing and fun to ride. Along our ascent to the Hanuma La pass, tourists told us that the descent was impassable.

When I reached the summit, I could not believe my eyes. Below me I saw a nearly endless trail snaking down to the valley – unlimited biking pleasure! As I sped down the trail, I screamed with joy until I ran out of oxygen. Due to all these joyous feelings, I completely forgot that an accident and serious injury would be most unfortunate as any rescue would be enormously difficult. The next hospital was days away, and those days would have been the longest and most uncomfortable of my life. But I reached the bottom of the trail safely thanks to disciplined and sound riding.

We again visited a monastery, Lingshed Gompa. The monks here also enjoyed biking classes. Then we were invited to join in morning prayers: a fascinating yet slightly irritating buzz accompanied by drums and ringing bells filled the room. A high-ranking lama of the monastery took us on a tour of the holiest rooms, while Mesum, a practicing Buddhist, was permitted to photograph some of the religious presentations.

More than one world
The seventeenth day ended with our last joint evening meal. We had reached Wanla and celebrated the success of our journey with a feast. The momos, traditional Tibetan steamed ravioli filled with yak meat, tasted delicious. We drank chang with the meal, a fermented barley juice, which we diluted with water. We are athletes, after all.

We absolutely enjoyed our last ascent to the Prinkiti La pass, and the subsequent descent represented another highlight and a worthy conclusion to our unique tour. We had reached Lamayuru, the final destination of our journey. A visit to the local monastery gave us an opportunity to thank Buddha for his protection during our adventures. I thanked Mesum for the preparations and the successful photographs. Dorjee gave us a katak, a traditional scarf, as a sign of friendship. Santosh returned home with his horses from here. Dorjee and Tashi accompanied us as far as Leh.

We rested a few days in this small town, which to us now appeared rather large and busy. As the summer was drawing to a close and winter started to show its biting claws, we were anxious to travel south as quickly as possible. It was October, and the passes would soon be covered in snow, and therefore impassable.

One afternoon and a liter of chai later, I was still sitting in the flower garden in Leh. I wrote down the most lasting impressions of the past weeks in my diary. In India, I had met another world, in fact, several other worlds, both attractive and daunting at the same time. It was a great fortune to discover the Himalayan Mountains by bike, as long as there are only few roads, but many single trails.

In New Delhi, another India was awaiting me. However, after the experiences of the past few weeks, the capital city of India was much less intimidating than during my first visit.

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Biking with Buddha

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