TRAVERSE Issue 52 - February 2026 | Página 91

TRAVERSE 91
lentil soup hit the spot before we began the search. Not that it was much of a“ search party.” I took point and headed north as the sun sank lower, the group following in hopes of finding Plineo waiting further down the track.
Night fell, and in the pitch dark, with no idea what lay beyond the rocky road’ s edge, I was relieved to finally roll into what I thought was Ghami, followed closely by Joe. There’ d been no sign of Plineo, and according to a local, we weren’ t actually in Ghami either. Eventually the lost soldier was found on the roadside, socialising with locals, and the group arrived intact. Thank God. MLA has never lost a rider, and Plineo’ s barrister bride would surely have wanted answers.
A late start next morning, so the backup lads could replace clutch plates, gave us time for a wander around the village and for Glenn to purchase, at great expense, a“ 1000-year-old” piece of Nepalese history. Hmm.
With the sun up, and temperatures hovering around six degrees, we rode for Lo Manthang, 30 kilometres north and about 20 kilometres from the Tibet / China border. The scenery was mind-blowing. How people had survived up here for centuries defied logic.
We climbed unmade rocky roads rising from dry riverbeds to 4000 metres. Again, the Himalayans spluttered; one stopped dead. But not for long, Plineo and 2IC Glenn traced the fault to a wiring short and had it ticking over in no time.
The day’ s highlight was a 30 kilometre round trip to the ancient Choser Caves, a deserted labyrinth of tunnels and rooms once inhabited by monks for 800 years. Why they were created, especially those perched so high, remains a mystery. The Lo people guard them fiercely, and few outsiders have explored them. We were fortunate to have access, though one short of the full crew. I missed out, nursing what turned out to be a grade-two hamstring tear after an off in the bulldust. Nev’ s endless supply of Tramadol from his on-board pharmacy saved the day, getting me back in the saddle for the return leg.
After a minus-eight-degree night and a walk through the old city
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