MKRIDE: The Road to Mount Everest

[MotoNews]

Published in: Rides

My brother Colin and I concocted an adventurous plan to circumnavigate China by motorcycle. We called it the Middle Kingdom Ride (MKRIDE). Five months later we found ourselves struggling through a grueling two-day training session at BMW’s Enduro Training Center in Hechlingen, Germany. And just two weeks after that we hit the road for what became the 65-day, 17,674km odyssey of our lifetime.

Our route began in Shanghai where we headed north to the border of China and North Korea. From there we followed the legendary Silk Road along the Karakoram Highway to the Pakistani border before entering Tibet.

Tibet is the home of the most remote road in the world, the 219 Highway, which has an average altitude of 4,500m (14,763 ft.).

After visiting the Mt. Everest Base Camp (EBC), Lhasa and southeast China, we safely made it back into Shanghai on October 17^th, 2010.

Here is a recounting of one of our fondest memories from that journey....

• The Road to Mount Everest

It’s day 47 of our expedition and the further west we go from Beijing the later the sun appears. Sunrise seems delayed only because all of China maintains a single time zone. Today it will be almost 9 a.m. before the sun finally breaks over the tallest and most impressive region of the Himalayas.

As I awake groggy and a little disoriented, it’s a struggle to recall exactly where I am. So many nights in small guesthouses and constantly changing locations. Colin and I prefer to stay with the locals where it’s not unusual for several generations, along with their extended families, to share a single home. This time it’s a farmhouse in a small Himalayan village about 20km south of Tingri, Tibet, and 4,500m (14,763 ft.) above sea level. When we arrived last night here there was a group of children running and playing in the dirt, most without shoes, and one little girl had no clothes at all. And because there were so many yaks in the courtyard, we had to park the bikes next to the farmhouse.

Colin and Chad, our cameraman, are in their sleeping bags at the other end of the room. I hear barking dogs in the distance, a baby crying in the next room, and footsteps on the rooftop above us. All of these familiar sounds seem exaggerated by the thin atmosphere of this altitude. It is a very cold morning. Wrapped in a mummy sleeping bag I dread the moment of having to unzip and let the freezing air in. So I procrastinate and try to catch a little more shut-eye. Today we will be making our way to Mt. Everest, and its going to be a tough one, so we’ll need as much rest as we can get.

Yesterday’s ride was incredible coming in from a long day that began in Shigatse. Much of the road was paved – but after Tingri the last 20km deteriorated into fine sand and deep gravel – definitely the most challenging we’d experienced so far.

We’re off the main track where there’s no stake in the well-heeled tourism trade. The people here go about their daily lives, more or less like they have for centuries. It is late September and the farming season is drawing to a close. The village had just taken in its last harvest before winter. And most of the villagers have been thrashing and stacking their wheat. Soon they will transport their crops to market.

Life at 4,500m isn’t easy for the farmers and herders of the area. It tends to take its toll on the body and face, too. Perhaps that’s why the people of Tibet are likely to look much older than they actually are. Yet Tibetans are a very hardy and resolute people.

Tibetan women have such a unique and distinctive look. Their hair is often long and braided, their eyes large and brown, and their cheek bones high and colored with a permanent “rose red” from the harsh sun and wind. The women of this farmhouse are particularly hard workers who must finish managing the crops before they can move onto preparing meals and taking care of the baby. Their lives are so inter-meshed and communal that we have difficulty determining exactly who the child’s parents are.

We’re lucky to have this chance to experience their culture and lifestyle in such an up-close and personal environment.

Last night’s dinner had been tasty, and consisted of a thick Tibetan noodle soup and yak meat, along with yak butter tea to wash it all down. Sunset came quickly, and after it set the temperature dropped fast. There’s very little to do without daylight so we all hunkered down for decent night’s sleep full aware that the next day would be the big push to the EBC.

To get here we had to backtrack 600km west from Lhasa in the hope that the ride up to the base camp would live up to all our expectations. From the farmhouse, if we had clear skies and no rain, we might be able to make it in a single day of riding. Our fingers were crossed because the weather in these upper regions of the Himalaya can change in a moment.

When I finally found the courage to crawl out of my sleeping bag the grogginess immediately disappeared. The cold, thin Tibetan air hit me like a sharp slap across the face. All the better, too, because today was game day. We needed sharp focus if we were going to make the final 75km (50 mile) slog – a nasty bit of off-road riding if there ever was one.

Breakfast was a mix of fresh coal-baked bread, hard-boiled eggs, yak butter tea and some nasty “Gold Roast” powdered coffee we’d picked up in Kashgar a few weeks back. It was 2°C (35°F) at 9:30 a.m. when we climbed on our bikes. The sunlight had still not reached the valley floor. And although our hands and feet were freezing our spirits where high as we set out to conquer this vast high altitude desert.

As we left the little village we immediately began the long climb. The road beneath our tires turned from packed dirt to thick, loose gravel. But the road conditions couldn’t dampen our resolution, as the surrounding scenery, the highest section of the Himalayan range, was breathtaking in the early morning light. Straight ahead of us was Cho Oyu, the 6^th highest mountain on earth standing at a majestic 8,201m (26,905 ft.), it would be a few more hours of hard riding before Everest would come into view. Our anticipation and excitement was palpable.

Once the sun cleared the peaks the temperatures fluctuated wildly. As we twisted and turned in and out of the mountain shadows, one thing became abundantly clear: this would be a long, difficult and dangerous day on our bikes. The riding was so intense that it took us over an hour to cover only 10km as we forged our way from 4,000m to 5,000m (13,123 ft. to16,404 ft.).

About two hours later, the terrain suddenly changed. We were now in a very dry glacial valley. Huge rocks, stones, gravel and a multitude of small criss-crossing rivers made the landscape all the more challenging – and we were still climbing! As the day wore on and the sun grew more intense, our breathing became difficult in the oxygen-thin air. Riding on the pegs is physically demanding in the best of times but even more so when there you’re fighting to breathe. Even 5–10 minutes in this rough and oxygen-starved terrain can cause a rider to become fatigued and light headed. So frequent breaks were needed to recover, hydrate, and regroup before we could carry on.

Traffic wise, the first half of the day was relatively calm and near serene, compared to the second half, which was full of 4WD traffic along with a surprising number of bicyclists. About the same time that we had left the farmhouse, other travelers were doing the same from the EBC. Most were heading north through the village of Chay. Others went west to drive off-road all the way to Tingri – the same direction we were coming in from.

Between our bikes and the large SUVs we encountered on these dusty mountain roads there was little room for error. Colin and I struggled to keep the rubber down as Land Cruisers zipped past, kicking up incredible amounts of dust and rock, often leaving us wobbling in their wake. A variety of faces from the passing vehicles peered out to get a closer look at us “fools” on motorcycles. And the curious often stopped us for endless rounds of questions. While there was a tendency for the Chinese to photograph us, the Westerners were more inclined to give subtle waves and nods. It was interesting to witness how the different cultures behaved.

By far the middle of the day presented the toughest challenge of our journey. We had to forge 10–15km of broken-down dirt trail the a river had washed away. The icy-cold water seeped into our boots and soaked our riding suits. And it took all of our technical riding skills to crawl our way around, over and through the slippery rocks, massive watery potholes, mud, wheel-high water, and plenty of ascents and descents. Somehow we made it through – no one went down, no drops or injuries. A proud moment for us all.

It wasn’t long before we came across a curious little roadside shack barring our way with a string tied to a pole on the other side. As we pulled up and peaked in through a tiny window, the attendant saw us and scrambled to attention, asking for our “Mt. Everest Base Camp National Park Tickets.” After we presented them he allowed us to enter by releasing the string. We began the final climb.

This was actually my second visit to the Mt. Everest Base Camp. My original was in 2001 on a 90-day backpacking trip around China. Back then it was rare and unique to travel around China in that way, Tibet especially, but now it seemed almost as common as visiting Beijing.

My eyes began to water as the world’s tallest and most majestic mountain came into full view. Somehow it appeared much more dramatic and far more stunning than I remembered. And as an amazing sense of accomplishment and relief washed over us, my brother yelled, “We made it! We made it Ryan!”

As luck would have it the officials wouldn’t let us ride our BMW F800GS bikes the rest of the way to the base camp. So we left them at what must be the highest parking lot in the world, and took a small bus to the site. But it didn’t matter. What a view! What a mountain! What a ride!

Colin and I were euphoric and full of pride for having safely made it. We had fought so hard to get here – through breakdowns, crashes, and crazy weather conditions. Now, having arrived at the EBC made it all worth it. We had just ridden our motorcycles from Shanghai to the base of the highest mountain in the world! Even to this day I still can’t find the words to describe how delicious that moment tasted.

We spent a long time planning this, and we both agreed that it was the most exciting and challenging day on the bikes, as well as our most memorable one. All in all it took us about 9 hours of riding to cover just 75km (50 miles). It had been some of the most demanding and technical off-road riding we’d ever experienced, along near vertical drops, steep slopes, thick sand, gravel and river crossings; and all of it between 4500m and 5200m above sea level.

If you are keen for a tough ride, at an even tougher altitude, then Colin and I highly recommend the road from Tingri to the EBC. It’ll be an adventure you’ll never regret. I know for us that it’ll be a day we’ll keep close forever.

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