Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Day 5 - sussing the opposition

We were up at 5 this morning for a day that Ernie had marked as important in my diary. Unofficially it was to be a 'meet and greet' day for me to be introduced to some of the foreign people in this part of the world. As well as eyeballing my opponents in the race I also had to set aside a bit of time in my busy diary to pump the knuckles a bit and say 'Bonsoir' to some of the nice locals who had bowled up to see me. And whilst all this PR stuff is a bit of a bind at times you have to remember that its not every day of the week that the people in this farest flungest part of the world get to see me. Besides I think it adds to my global appeal to be seen in the company of ordinary people.

And, lets not forget that the rest of the people who would be following in my wake this week were also pretty ordinary as well. So were the people on my bus. Don't get me wrong I'm not a snob - hey, I was once so poor I had to knock back the Sky subscription, so don't talk to me about being humble.


But I digrate. I admit to being a touch hacked off about a lack of VIP transport - again - but I resolved to grin and wear it. That said if they were going to make me travel on a bus they could have at least sat me in Business Class.


We went to a place called Darjeeling which I'd been to before. It used to be owned by the British and you can still see evidence of British ownership - workmen standing leaning on shovels, men in uniform being awkward etc etc. In a moment of deep thought I wonder what it must have been like in the days when the sun never shone on the pink bits of the map. I pictured myself in a pith helmet riding an elephant through the streets of this fine city and thought how cool would it be to be Tarzan? Then I realised I was hallucinating on Diamox altitude tablets and so I went for a tube and a curry.


We then had a little wander around the town, visiting the Himalaya Mountaineering Museum and it still had some of that stuff belonging to that bloke who climbed Everest. From there we went to the Himalaya Zoo and we saw tigers and other fierce looking animals. There was this huge bear-like creature with a hideous face and piercing cry - but on looking closer I saw that it was the Austrian bloke again.


Now I'm a seasoned traveller as you know - I've been to Indialand and to Africa and to Bracknell - so I've had to put up with a fair bit in my life as a globetrotting Olympian. But around mid-afternoon I started to feel a little peculiar - a condition that steadily worsened as we made the long, slow journey back to Lake Mirik. I've already mentioned that I was on medication to combat altitude sickness - these were forced upon me by Dr Moustache and were taken on top of my existing medication. So, God knows what this lot were doing to my body. I had explained to the good Doctor that I was well prepared for altitude having had three months sleeping upstairs at home. But anyway, these flippin' tablets would appear to have given me .... yep, you guessed it. Altitude sickness!! So, I was put to my bed having not so much a dose of Delhi Belly, more a case of Darjeeling Feeling.


I thought a bit of rest would do me the world of good. But I'd reckoned without the physical intervention of Moustache. What did he do? Well, quite frankly, he just pummeled me and hurt me. First of all he squoze my fingers in that gap between my thumb and my nose picking finger - and he squoze til I had to scream. Then he lay me on my stomach and ... wait for it ... stood on my ankles!! Then he pushed his hands into my stomach until I cried out again. Finally he sat there for five minutes stroking my ear lobe. Now that's where I got a little bit shirty with Dr M and I told him in no uncertain terms to jack it in. He insisted he knew what was best for me - and he also told me that I was poorly cos I was sterssed. Well who the pug wouldn't be stressed when you had some Indianese man stroking your ear and standing on your ankles??


Anyway his ear stroking came to a sudden halt when I playfully kicked him repeatedly on the ankles - despite me telling him it would help him to relax.

But you'll never guess what. Within an hour I felt as right as snow and so, feeling a little better about tomorrow's race I decided to take an early beer-less night and hit the sack.


I bumped into the sodding Argentines on the way to my room and they were still shouting some kind of political slogans and generally making a bally nuisance of themselves - so I suggested they go and see Dr Moustache for some attitude pills. They didn't seem to see the funny side of this and I have to admit trhere was a bit of a skirmish in which an Argentinian flag was slightly soiled but after a bit of hair and shirt straightening and a few deep breaths we all agreed it was probably about time we all fought on the same side.


And screwed the French.

As I turned in, the Austrian guy shouted goodnight - he was still in Darjeeling mind you, but I could still hear him. Then I drifted off to sleep dreaming about tomorrow's victory and that 24 mile uphill stage to Sandakphu.



Or so I thought.

At midnight there was a hammering on the door of our room. There, in the moonlight, I made out the shapes of a number of military types, complete with guns - and they were shouting all kinds of stuff at me. I thought to myself "Now what would Kate Adie do?" and then proceeded to adopt the British attitude and slammed the door in their faces. Turns out that the old man called Albert had only gone and broken into the room of the local head of military security! And he'd got into their room by using his own key in their lock and pushing the door open. Now that tells you more about the state of their security rather than Albert's nous let me tell you.

See you tomorrow.

Keep on tapering.

Ron