Me with a big smile on my face ... as did all of us that day!
I'm not so adventurous as I used to be these days, and so was with a mix of excitement and not a few nerves that we took the turning that let away from the scary tunnel, and would gradually take us up into the mountains and the Anzob Pass. The early stretches we simply followed the river as normal with occasions of broken road and the usual pot-holes. Villages came and went with mostly friendly and always curious locals, either peering or waving as we went by. We'd spread out somewhat over a kilometre or so, with us all taking it in turns to forge ahead in the lead. I'd say it was those bits I remember the clearest as I blazed the trail up the mountain.
On the way to Anzob ...
The road twisted and turned and wound it's way serpentining slowly up across rock and gravel, with often spectacular views and precipitous drops down into the canyon hundreds of metres below. It went up ... and along, then up again. A small river crossing, a barely cleared rock-fall. The road went along, then up once more. It seemed we were climbing up into the clouds. And then all at once looked down and indeed there were some clouds. We'd gone that high .... though it wasn't so clear that we could see the distant land after cresting the top of the pass itself. A mild disappointment, but nevertheless I felt a sense of personal achievement and was happy about the experience so far.
My bike with gorge and the Anzob track in the background
A short way on after mounting over the crest of the Pass I pulled up alongside Darek, to look at whatever view that could be seen through the haze and to reflect on the days riding. We had plenty of time but the cautious bit of my brain was relieved we were finally going down from here on in. In thinking back on the last couple of hours ascent when I took lead position, it became clear that all the training in the world wouldn't have been much use on some stretches. I'd started out trying to think ahead and choose a good riding 'line'. But as the day wore on tiredness and the increasingly difficult patches, along with the relentlessness of the conditions meant there was no 'right line'. Sometimes it was a case of let the front wheel go where it may, and do the best to hit whatever you found yourself riding over with enough speed to get you over it, but not enough to bottom out the suspension. Of course there were times when the bike took a hard 'hit' through the frame and from it came a few wobbles, though these were handled with less and less drama. The learning curve was fast, so that in time there was a kind of 'flow' about the whole thing and the most important aspect over some sections was to just keep going.
Bjorn with a big smile on his face too ...
Having said that, there were numerous photo-stops, that had everybody wearing a smile as they pulled their cameras out. But of course you can only take so many shots of mountains and mountain roads, so after a few stops myself was keen to press on. As I write now recall a certain tension in dealing with the unknown of my first high mountain pass on a that poorly conditioned road. But my main memory is of the achievement I felt at the top, and not a little disappointment when we were coming back down over the other side ...
I love this shot, as it shows a little of the surface we were riding on. It got worse in places. At times much worse!
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