Tibet

Above 5000m

We salute the guys as they leave the army base, off to tackle the big pass. Gao Ceng looks pretty psyched.

Brice feels up to snuff and wants to tackle Tanggula. We have let the Chinese friends get a good head start, about three hours. Gong Jianping is going so slowly up here it hardly makes sense to cycle ahead and wait.

We leave the town behind and slowly ascend past a crystal ice-green rushing river flowing down from the glaciers above. The road continues upward toward the glaciers and one feels as if soon to confront them. As it happens, the road avoids the glaciers and finds the path of least resistance, as all caravan routes and roads do. This indeed is both -- once a caravan route across this forbidding plateau, now a serious tarmac Chinese wonder linking Lhasa to China's Northwest.

After some time the going gets steep and we must stop to refuel on whatever provisions are stowed: horrible biscuits and Eight Treasure Porridge (equally horrible). I shouldn't omit the fact that at every stop we dive into our stores of candy: Brice and I both carry a 16-inch mailing tube filled with it, lashed beneath the frame's top tube.

Fueled up, we mount the cycles again and tackle the steep stuff. Down into gears two or three now -- nothing but the small chain ring for the time being.

After an hour we've virtually reached the height of the pass itself (5,200 m) without actually getting to the pass. Tanggula Pass turns out to be a multi-hour crossing at extreme altitude. One reaches altitude and stays there for hours among the snowy peaks and an alpine crystal green lake.

Eventually the pass itself, identifiable like all others by its prayer flags, comes into view and it's only a matter of getting from here to there. It might be another hour, but we can see it.

In contrast to the Kunlun and Fenghuo mountain passes, Tanggula Pass is achieved amid beautiful weather. Either no breeze or a wind that pushes us along. Spectacular views and the weather to match. Lucky souls we are this day.

At the top we pose amid prayer flags and chat with some guys seemingly hanging about.

The descent from the top is rapid and the terrain is once again sweeping, not locked in among high peaks as we have been for the last several hours summiting the pass.

The plan for today is to summit, descend, cycle 30 or 50 clicks across a high plateau, then summit the day's second pass, sometimes called "minor Tanggula", then cycle the 50 or 60 remaining clicks into the first town in the Tibet Autonomous Region: Amdo.

A hurricane descent from Tanggula empties us out into an desolate basin and the cycling is again flat. Here we encounter our second group of pilgrims. One of them is lying prostrate on the ground with every second or third step. He is an amicable sort and we stop to chat.

We continue on several kilometres and then, seeing that the pass is approaching, pull over for a biscuit and candy. On a cycling trip such as this, one comes to understand the body very much as a machine. ‘Fuel up’ equals ‘power out’.

We’re soon onto the day's second pass. It's a bit much.

We fight our way, exhausted and without a meal, up the small Tanggula, which seems in no way aptly described as small or minor. It is a slow slog up the road with dwindling daylight, having already put the main Tanggula pass under out belts. We've left Wen Quan too late and the day is almost out. We are going to reach the summit at twilight. What then? You never want to sleep at maximum altitude. And we have agreed with our Chinese partners to meet in Amdo, the day's ostensible destination. Sixty clicks at night is stupid and dangerous.

We get to the pass and waste no time with celebrations.

We descend because there is no alternative. I let it rip, using the brakes with extreme economy, inclined to tip the balance slightly in favor of risk in order to tear apart these kilometres. Brice is close behind. We leave space between in these circumstance lest one person's wipeout claim both people. A dozen or more kilometres are quickly dealt with.

A "dao ban" is in sight and we stop near it, asking a shepherd boy what the story is into Amdo. Can we do it in a reasonable chunk of time, say a half-hour? Really he doesn't have a clue, but agrees to agree that a half-hour is reasonable. We contemplate going for it ... or should we call in at this dao ban and give up the ghost? Somehow we could re-connect with our Chinese partners in Amdo the next morning. We know in our hearts that 40 or 50 kilometres is a possible likelihood for the distance into Amdo, and we can see even in fading light that the sweetest downhill kilometres have been exhausted. The road flattens out before us and indeed reverts to hills.

"Chuck it in" is the consensus and with no small amount of relief we walk the bikes over to the dao ban.

It's dark now but there's no mistaking the short stature, wide build, closely shaven head, and mild demeanor of our friend Gao Ceng emerging from the dao ban. Hot damn! Two of the guys are here, having also decided not to stretch this trying day too far. They got here a half-hour before us.

"You guys are fast" is a compliment which falls pleasantly on the ears tonight.

Warm and inside the dao ban leader's den we're gulping hot water when one of us catches sight of a cyclist speeding down the road. "Hey!" they yell at Gong Jianping, en route to Amdo. Brice runs out onto the balcony and summons his loudest pitch: Gong Jianping! The figure slows and does a 180.