Competative? What me? I'm not. I can prove it. Twice.

When I arrived at the hostel here in Gilgit, Pakistan, people were discussing how long it takes to get from Sost (Chinese Border) to Gilgit and the hostel by bicycle.

Some were saying 3 days, others said it could be done in 2. I couldn't help it - it just fell out. I tried to keep my mouth shut. Honest. "I reckon it can be done in 1". People ignored me and continued discussing. "Seriously I reckon you can do it in 1 day".

"It's 200k of the worst road ever imaginable. The Chinese are blasting big holes in it. Land falls are smashing it to pieces. There are climbs that take a day to do. There is perhaps 20k or tarmac. It's frozen in paces. Other parts are sand. The rest is boulders and rocks and stones. It can't be done in 1 day. Get real."

My eye twitched. The corner of my mouth curled.

NEVER SAY 'CAN'T' TO A FEISTY DANNY

So to cut a long story short. A bet was made and I was going to be taking the brunt of it. I then went down with food poisoning of the Asian variety. 24hrs on the toilet with little sleep and then two days of regular visits. The perfect preparation for a big ride. I could barely walk to the toilet by the end - all energy gone. As soon I was able to sit on a bike, without a cork, I set off up the road back to Sost.

Taking it easy and taking in the views. And refueling.

Click the link now for extra effect....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKhnmUdmz74


At Sost I arrived latish and got an early night. In the middle of the night I popped to the loo and who should I see in the mirror behind me when I was washing my hands but Stevie Bell. My greatest enemy on the bike, rival and best buddy. He was whispering in my ear. "You're not gonna do it Danny. No way. You're too weak."

In the morning he'd gone, but when I got outside he was there with his Time Trial Bike and aero helmet, stretching. He wanted a race.

So off we went - I took the first part fairly easy judging how much the sickness had taken out of me. I felt good, gritting my teeth, covered in dust, mud and oil, but Steve, by my side, was drifting along as though he was gliding over the stones - he had that big cheesy Baby Bell smile on his face. I knew there were some big 50m cliff drops coming so I put a spurt in (muchos matches burnt) - Steve has been known to do nasty things to his rivals and I didn't want to be near him at that point. (What? Did someone say "he pushed his good mate off a cliff just coz he was passing him on a climb", that's sick!!)

So I kept pushing on and to cut this story short I managed to make it back with time to spare and with Steve well gone by the end. I felt like a monster (great news for next season - much stronger than when I left blighty!!). A monster which perhaps I was after all the shaking and bumping - my organs have swapped places, my bones have been ground down and my fingers are having problems moving. Does anyone know a good doctor to put me back together? Ro? Do you know one? :o)

One good thing is that in the mix up my brain replaced my 'Bravados' in the top spot and I now understand what a totally and pointless bet it was!?! I'll never do something like that again. Until the dreaded C word is mentioned again that is. (That's 'can't' by the way.)