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and more holes in the rock face . I ’ d struggled to comprehend the what and where of it all , my riding had been slow and mistake riddled , to the point that others had noticed .
“ Drink this ,” a man in a small compound of the village of Chhloser had offered . I ’ d obliged not know what it was or why he ’ d given it to me . The smell was repulsive , the taste worst , I ’ d held back a gag .
“ Fix head ,” someone else opined .
With that we rode on , following a small stream that was mostly frozen slush and the occasional iceberg in miniature . This was great fun riding and I felt as if things were returning to normal . Rounding a bend and climbing a short hill we were treated to the sight of dozens of holes in the cliffs , a steep stairway provided a way to enter a hole .
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