Sweet Sikkim
I left Auringaley, Tung, hoping to check out TIEEDI before riding towards the mountains of Sikkim. I spent an evening at TIEEDI but felt out of place and was glad I’d skipped the week- or month-long stay I’d originally planned.
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Next day, I climbed the hills up to Darjeeling. There, I ran into a couple of German cycling friends I’d heard about from my Warmshowers host in Guwahati.
After a brief chat, I explored a bit of Darjeeling, visited my good friend’s alma mater, and then set off towards Jorethang.
Holy crap! Everyone knows I’m a chicken when it comes to downhills—I do NOT enjoy them. This one was deathly steep. I tried not to think about having to climb back up on my return, or even whether I’d make it down safely. When I finally hit a flat stretch and tried to slow down, I couldn’t. Even using my feet didn’t help! When I finally managed to stop, I pulled over at a small hamlet to adjust my brakes, but the brake housings were too hot to touch. I let the brakes cool-down as I refuelled with some fresh momos, and coffee. After an hour or so, I was able to adjust the brakes and rode rest of the way down with heart in my mouth.
I rode down to the Teesta River, entered Jorethang, and continued towards the mountains of Yuksom, Sikkim. I was happy to be back in the mountains.
After losing all my elevation to the Teesta valley, I began climbing again. At a road construction site, I asked for directions. They told me that if I could lift my bike over a pile of dirt and ride on the unpaved, freshly cut hill, I could take a shortcut. MisterGordo was all for it—this is what he was made for.
We enjoyed that bit of off-roading. I drank some fresh mountain spring water to ease my cramps and eventually rejoined the main road. As I climbed, I came across a sharp bend with a small grocery shop/milk collection center/ local hangout, I guess. I stopped for water and local bananas. My gut gave me a strange feeling about the shopkeeper, but I kept chatting with him. He turned out to be a gem of a kid who's pursuing a master’s in zoology, managing his orange orchard, caring for a cow, and running the milk collection center for the hamlet.
The longer I talked to him, the more I wanted to spend the night there. The single structure stood on a steep valley, with the sound of the river below and no other buildings around—so peaceful. My kind host cooked me one of the best meals I’ve had: simple rice and beans, followed by hot milk. He suggested I sleep inside, but I wanted to be out with the elements, listening to the river and wind, and stay close to MisterGordo. So, after finishing my online Kannada class at 11:30pm, I pitched my tent and slept soundly.
I woke up early, packed up, but couldn’t bring myself to leave—first because of the heavy rain, and also because I was enjoying more conversations with this kind soul.
At one point, I was reminded of my own smallness, again. I saw a local man buy groceries and, while packing his bag, it looked like he grabbed my bag of puffed rice (Rs. 20, about 25 cents) and “sneaked” it into his backpack. I was about to say something, but decided to let it go—I could afford another. After he left, I went to pack my own bag and found my puffed rice still there! He hadn’t "swiped" mine. I shudder to think how he would have reacted if I’d accused him, especially since people here are honest and hardworking. I would have lost face if I’d acted on my hunch.
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I rode the remaining 25 km slowly, meeting more kind people who struck up conversations and reinforced my reasons for cycling through these remote parts.
As I got closer to Yuksom, I saw more familiar faces and old friends, so my arrival was delayed by all the greetings and catch-ups.
Finally, I reached my friend’s place in Yuksom around 5 pm. I freshened up, we caught up, and I repacked my backpack, since MisterGordo would stay here while I went to meet family and run a trail marathon or two in the nearby Himalayas.
Today's ride: 100 km (62 miles)
Total: 2,684 km (1,667 miles)
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