Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Day 4 - Back to the mountains

Another day dawning in Indialand and another day of adulation ahead of me.

It was another crazy journey back to the airport where we were due to set off for our flight to Bagdogra and where I would meet up once again with my friends in the Himalayas.

Well Ronettes I have to admit that I nearly let my guard slip at the airport. I was just a few kilograms away from throwing what would have been my first superstar’s fit of the trip. The old soaks who run Nice Work has tried their best to look after me but, to be frank, they’re OK at looking after ordinary people and women but when it comes to Olympic elite athletes they are somewhat lacking.

So when we arrived at the airport yet again I was forced to queue up with normal people – no VIP lounge or entrance. Then the queues just went on for ages and I’m afraid I got so frustrated I announced that I was about to throw a paddy. At which one of my new Irish friends Mary insisted that if I was throwing a paddy it wasn’t going to be her – I didn’t understand what she meant. But I quickly pulled myself together by reminding myself “Now what would Barry Manilow do in this situation?’

To be honest the Irish girls were set to become a problem for yours truly. I could tell they all had their cute little green Irish eyes on me – but I was determined to hold my dignity. I’d made my mind up that I was going to mentor them – and be their father figure. And that was that. Mind you if I’d been their father I’d have still been bathing one or two of them – but that’s another story!

As we stood in one of the many endless queues I could sense that one or two of my opponents were exuding what can only be described as jealousy, Not just the fact that I was going to win the race – but that I was getting so much attention from the girl people in our group. But, hey, that’s just what comes with the territory when you are an elite athlete.

Three of the blokes in particular were obviously a little twitchy. There was a chap from Essex – but apart from that he was OK. And then there was a bloke from Reading – a place very close to my wallet. And then another chap from Ashford who kept trying to outstare me – I could tell he was using psychological techniques to try and unsettle me. So I decided to fight fire with stones and stared at him back. Then very slowly I raised my right hand and pointed at him with my big finger – and then I hiccuped and kind of ruined the moment. But he certainly got the message – you don’t mess with this kiddie.

Of course, the Half Share was with me on this trip and I also had to have a little word with her about moaning just because she has to carry my bags. I also took the opportunity to give her a little pep talk and reminded her that I had no intention of hanging around at the top/bottom of mountains waiting for her. The last time I starred in the Himalayas I spent just a little bit too much time waiting for her to finish and I was in no mood for that this year.

We landed at Bagdogra and bumped into a few old mates from last time and we boarded the bone shaker to our base hotel in Lake Mirik - about 6,000 ft in the mountains. Upon arrival I met up with Himalya Charlie again and he gave me one of those embarrassing man hug things which I'm not that comfortable with actually. He didnt seem as happy as I thought he would to see me but that old cheeky grin came back as I gently teased him about the old Empire days and told him to fetch me a tube. He jokingly tapped my arm a bit and then I nudged him playfully in the chest as he tapped my ankles with his stick - and it was all getting a bit tetchy as I playfully flicked his ear and he knocked my cap off and one or two observers thought it was getting a bit serious. But we both put our arms around each other and I thought he was enjoying our little tussle until he kneed me in the balls.

There was only time for a couple of tubes of Gherkin beer before lights out ... and my, oh my, what a night. The night didnt auger well when I heard this German bloke whispering something - and he was in another room at the time! This chap muttered louder than normal people bellow - so we had to put up with his garrumping voice and singing until he'd finally worn himself out and fallen asleep. I think he was some kind of shouting champion so I made a mental note to deck him in the morning. In the meantime the only thing I could do was to turn up the volume on my Imac player and let him have double bubble of Vera Lynn doing proper war songs. The problem was that the war songs woke up the three Argentinians who were just way too nationalistic for my liking. They eventually quietened down when I powdered them with two barrels - Number 1, the Falklands and Number 2 a little ditty I'd learned about that Madonna football man.

I dont know why the Germans and Argies just dont show a bit more tolerance towards foreign people. If there's one thing I can't stand its flippin' foreigners being xenophobic - well that's why they're foreign and I'm not I suppose.

Anyway all in all I think I made a half decent impression on most of the foreign people. I settled down for my first night in the mountains and began to dream once again of victory.

You could smell it in the air, you know. Well, that and curry.

Tomorrow I was off to Darjeeling for a cup of tea. Will tell you all about it.

Keep on tapering.

Ron