Day 4

Leaving Kalpa the road declined sharply, the entire town being built on a series of switchbacks with a steady flow of oncoming traffic. A stop at Suicide Point lived up to its name: a sheer cliff lookout over a gorge deep enough that the bottom was lost in haze.

The landscape shifted completely. Gone was the green of the lower valleys. The Spiti side is dry, lunar, ancient-looking. Bare rock faces in layers of amber and grey, the Spiti River cutting a grey-green ribbon through the canyon far below. Prayer flags appeared more frequently, strung between rocks and across passes.

Nako sits in a bowl high above the valley, a quiet village that feels slightly outside of time. I walked up to the thousand year-old monastery to enjoy a ceremony with monks chanting and playing instruments. The dungchen sounds like a digiridoo and the gyaling like a clarinet. A smiling monk threw little candies to some delighted local kids. We all sat barefoot on the ground. No photos were allowed, which felt appropriate.

After that I took a pedal boat around Nako Lake, with crisp, cold air coming off the water. Then a short hike up to the Buddhist temple bell, prayer flags snapping in the wind, looking down at the hairpin turns we had just ridden below. 120 km that felt like much more. We go even higher tomorrow.

Click here for Day 5