In Zuogong Britta had found a nice guesthouse and although there was a lot of army no obvious police presence. She had got a Yak skin sown into the shape of a sleeping bag and after a days rest we were once more all together and on our way. Daves visa was only for a month and looking at the distance we had covered in the last week it didn’t take a genius to see we were not going to make it soouside Zuogong We hailed down a passing empty truck and rode it a couple of hundred km’s to Bashou. This was a bumpy ride to say the least.

To begin with the truck sped along the bumpy road and we played at urbansurfing on the back , but after hours of being tossed around on some of the worlds worst roads bruised bottoms and exhausted bodies made for miserable moods and we were relieved to get out. In Ba shou the police stopped us and looked at our passports but not speaking or reading English just waved us on.

This area returns to alpine type scenery with pine forests providing a green blanket with an occasional pocket of dicidious trees adding a blaze of color to the mountain sides, in this early Autumn time. We made our way slowly along the river side rounding corner after corner each revealing yet another stunning view. The only problem was again the road which was sandy with rocks hidden under the surface to give punctures and broken spokes.

We took two days to Bomi, the next big town, but were split up when we turned off the road to a village up above for a food break, leaving a message for Dave written in the sand who had been delayed by a puncture. He missed the message and rushed on trying to catch us but it was he who was caught by a waiting motorcycle cop. On seeing the cop Dave tells of his initial swerving and attempt to escape but was caught up and forced off the road. Not speaking Chinese and the police not speaking English he ignored the demands for money and commented the police seemed to think a bank receipt might be the permit. Giving up they let him go and told him not to take pictures.

Meanwhile we were enjoying a smooth road at last. Passing some pilgrims we were astonished to see them stopping every 3 paces to first kneel then lie on their stomachs in prayer, continuosly muttering their mantras. Asking the monk pulling a cart loaded with their stuff what was up he revealed they were on a pilgrimage from Chundu to Lhasa. They travelled 8km a day and had taken 8 months to get there and would take over a year to complete the journey. Wow!

Hooking up with Dave outside Bomi we made camp outside of town. The others unwilling to venture into town I went in alone to get the beers and Chinese takeaway for the night. From Bomi the road continued to head down and so the scenery had changed from alpine to tropical, and the weather from sunny to wet. The road from sand to mud. The biking from hard to impossible. Fording many streams, covered in mud and sweat in a light drizzle this is mountain biking at its best. Fortunately we were going downhill but after a night camping in torrential rain even that was to change. We found a small village squeezed into the high sides of the river gorge a were releived to find a small hostel and restaurant in town . We got out the cards broke open the beers and brandy and had a day of rest.