partner , who must ’ ve seen what had occurred in his mirrors , had stopped , and waited patiently . Another rider , Keith , had pulled up behind me and was laughing . Together we picked up the bike , a task made much harder in the thin high-altitude air .
“ What happened ?” asked Moti who ’ d been waiting at the next roadside stop . “ I ’ ve been waiting for ages .”
He laughed as I explained the situation , knowing I was unhurt . I got the feeling he knew that we Australians rarely gave in .
“ I think you are the first woman to ride this route ,” he grinned like a proud parent . He ’ d explained that this was a new route for Motorcycle Expeditions . Petty politics played between local Himalayan tour companies had forced a reroute . Only one other group had passed this way and we ’ d been told that of the four riders , three had pulled out . I felt no shame that I had dropped the bike .
This stop , another ‘ tea tent ’, was larger than the last , in fact it was a start or drop off point for many hikers and climbers exploring the mountains . Summer Camp was traditional in all aspects except for the many modern tents lined up behind the eating area .
A delicious lunch of Dal and Naan was welcomed . All warnings of eating roadside food had been forgotten . Thank goodness . This was delicious and of course served with another cup or two of Masala Chai . That buzz was back and oh , did it feel so good .
Sated , full of tasty food and better conversation we rode on , soon linking with a main road . Now on bitumen , it was a time to reflect on the days riding as well as enjoy the stunning scenery that surrounded us . We were on our way to Jispa and oh what a ride it was . Dropping in altitude had brought vegetation , not as lush as that of a few days earlier
TRAVERSE 177