The two young monks in front of us stood then dropped to their knees, then rose again. One was fast, the other (the one we saw yawning) was slower. The fast one was relieved from this praying duty by the head monk. The slower one continued. At six o’ clock in the morning, I am not surprised he was yawning.
The high plains
My new friends Paro and Dwayn and I braved the early-morning rain to watch the monks. Then we had a nice breakfast of eggs, porridge and more. I don’t know what the monks ate. By eleven o’ clock I could procrastinate no longer, and I headed out into the drizzle.
Dwayn, Paro and me.
‘Is the road flat?’ I ask the hotel manager who knows the region well. ‘Yes.’ Well, I discovered over again, what looks flat from a car is not necessarily flat. I was climbing or falling most of the day, but on excellent roads with little wind or a tailwind. My highest point was 3500m. My endpoint is 3100m. The scenery was grey and drab. I bet it looks stunning in the sun, but, with this weather, its head down and onwards. I will continue to take main roads until the weather improves. There are places to stay on the main roads, and bad-weather cycling is best on good roads.
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