The great preparation

I’ve been thinking about this trip for five years, ever since I lived in China years ago. I’ve been mentally preparing for it for that long. Getting to the Tibetan Plateau with my bike was a lifetime dream of mine and I turned 40 this year, so it felt like there were no excuses left.

The easiest way to get there was to fly to an international airport in China and then onto the plateau. Although I speak a bit of Chinese, researching the trip beforehand was difficult as my reading and writing skills are limited.

Beyond the mental aspect, I also had to get my body physically ready for the trip because with a constant altitude between 3500-5000m above sea level, the air gets thin and there’s less oxygen for the body to consume.

I did a very strict pre-acclimatisation in a hypoxic tent at home. It was both loud and warm, as my body had to learn to produce more red blood cells to tackle the lack of oxygen in the air. The entire process took four weeks, and, in the end, I finished on simulated 4000m.

In terms of things I needed for the trip, the bike choice was crucial. A gravel bike worked best for the mix of surfaces. I changed parts of it to have an MTB gear ratio, as my luggage was heavy and there were significant metres to climb. The bags I brought needed to be durable and lightweight. I also got a proper tent that was both light and could withstand heavy weather conditions. It was also important to get a warm sleeping bag and pad as the nights I’d encounter would be very cold.

On facing challenges and letting it flow

I had a pretty rough start. When I landed I realised that the headset of the bike was loose, and it felt as if something was missing from it. Although I had planned the route in detail, the night before my first day, I was a bit tense. The last 10km of the first day gave me a bad feeling – it seemed to be a narrow trail along a steep mountainside ending in the rapid Jingsha River.

The day after, I was stopped by workers due to a massive rockslide, which was impossible to pass. I grew frustrated and desperate as everything seemed to go wrong.

One side was blocked due to the border to Tibet, which I wasn't allowed to enter. The only other option was to go back to where I started. 250km, 4000m of extra elevation. Something you don’t just complete in two days, and in that kind of altitude with a heavily loaded bike. But what I learned and realised during this time was – and this is something I will keep with me forever – I had to learn to accept the journey and embrace the things you cannot change; let it flow as the Chinese say. From then on, I loved it all, also the problem-solving part, and I had a truly good time.

Then came the food poisoning episode and not being able to eat for three days. Next to feeling sick, I was hit by immense frustration and just had to learn to accept that, while this messed up the whole schedule, there wasn’t much I could do.

I stayed at a very small local hotel at that time. When I decided on the second day of food poisoning to continue my trip, thelady of the house baked me some bread and fried potatoes.

As I continued my journey, I found myself stopping and crying every 30 minutes as I felt so miserable and sick. Everything was so heavy, and I felt so empty. It was tough mentally, but somehow,I made it to a beautiful camping spot surrounded by 6000m high mountains right at the bottom of the pass.

With the last bit of energy that I had left, I put the tent together, filtered some water from the little side stream and grabbed some of the potatoes despite my lack of appetite.

The challenges didn’t end there. That night, huge dark clouds and thunderstormsapproached, and I was above 4.300m, so when it started raining, it rained cats and dogs and I was exposed, which is a very dangerous situation. As if that wasn’t enough, my body just wasn’t ready for food just yet.It felt rather sarcastic to me, and my only thought was: ‘if I survive this night, I will be able to climb this pass, even in my miserable health conditions.’

That’s what I did. I woke up the next morning, the rough mountain peaks covered in snow – winter came early – the sky very cloudy. A gritty but gentle atmosphere that made me feel small and humble but there was only one direction, and it was up that pass. I packed my stuff and embarked on the journey to reach 5050m above sea level – the highest point on the trip. The highest point I’ve ever been in my life.

Being one with oneself

I’m good at doing things alone, and I’ve gone on a lot of solo trips in the past, but being alone is very different in extreme situations like these. There’s no one there to help with mechanical issues, to uplift you when you feel down or for you to share beautiful moments with. It’s just you on your own.

Funnily, I didn't feel alone once in those three weeks, even during the toughest conditions I didn’t regret my decision as I knew that if I took someone with me, it wouldn’t be my trip anymore. It was very important for me to find my rhythm, my own pace, and to be on my own for the good and the bad because I knew how much strength I could find in this.

The challenges didn’t end there. That night, huge dark clouds and thunderstorms approached, and I was above 4.300m, so when it started raining, it rained cats and dogs and I was exposed, which is a very dangerous situation. As if that wasn’t enough, my body just wasn’t ready for food just yet. It felt rather sarcastic to me, and my only thought was: 'If I survive this night, I will be able to climb this pass, even in my miserable health conditions.’ That’s what I did.

I woke up the next morning, the rough mountain peaks covered in snow – winter came early – the sky very cloudy. A gritty but gentle atmosphere that made me feel small and humble but there was only one direction, and it was up that pass. I packed my stuff and embarked on the journey to reach 5050m above sea level – the highest point on the trip. The highest point I’ve ever been in my life.

Admittedly, as a person, I’m often more insecure than others may think I am, and I also underestimate myself and my capabilities, often resulting in me not feeling good enough. This trip turned out to be full of impossibilities and difficulties, but I developed such big trust in myself, my skillset and the journey itself.

This journey changed me; I am at peace within myself and feel sofull of energy while grateful and respectful towards my body. It feels like this trip gave me wings, and I’ve been able to get rid of old patterns and blockages. It was never supposed to be a spiritual journey, but it turned out to be a healing and empowering journey for me. What a huge privilege and the biggest gift I could give to myself.

The feeling of accomplishment is calm

This trip changed me. In the days after the food poisoning, I took the time and found a flow. I had more trust in myself, and I wasn’t thinking about anything; I was simply just in the moment because I knew it was a one-in-a-lifetime experience. I guess many of us are searching for this feeling, took it all in, not wanting it to ever end. I remember riding my bike up that pass for five hours and I knew it would take another hour when I saw the end of the pass, but I didn’t mind. I wanted that exact moment to last a little longer.

Then I reached the highest point; it looked like a gate richly adorned with thousands of prayer flags. I really did make it, and sort of collapsed in tears of emotions: relief, joy, pride, but also complete exhaustion. It was simply unbelievable what I achieved and where I was. A truly holy place for the Tibetans, a magic one for me.

For the first time ever, maybe, my body and my mind were so strongly united. In China, this is called Yin and Yang. I felt I would’ve liked to stay there a little longer, but 5000m altitude isn’t a place you want to stay for that long. It got cold too, and the snowfall line went down to 4000m. It was supposedly also the last day of the year that the pass was rideable.