An Unexpected End

Before my parents arrived to meet us in Southeast Asia, Yann and I had already been discussing our onward travel plans for several weeks. We settled on Sumatra and even got our visas in George Town. But as the heat beat down on us day after day, our keenness for two months of the same climate had waned significantly. By the time we had reached Singapore, we both agreed that we wanted to ride somewhere cooler. Several options were suggested, but we eventually settled on a fairly inexpensive flight to San Francisco. From there we thought we would ride up the coast to Vancouver and make our way across the Canadian Rockies as spring set in.

We flew with China Eastern Airlines, which, despite serving absolutely disgusting food, didn't charge us anything to transport our bicycles! As usual, our inexpensive flight was accompanied with a long layover. We spent 12 hours sleeping at the Shanghai Airport before boarding our connection. We arrived in San Francisco in the morning, found the "bike assembly station" at the airport and began the bag organization/bike reassembly process. It took Yann almost 4 hours to put the bikes together, but we were able to conveniently ride out from the airport on a bicycle path! If only all airports were so bike-friendly.   Doing his least favourite task at SFO: bike re-assembly

We were hosted by the lovely Martin and Heidi at their equally lovely home in Little Russia. We didn't get much of a chance to visit the city, we were busy stocking up on camping supplies and some warmer clothing than what we had dragged through Asia (we had actually tossed most of what we'd been wearing for the past few months, our cycling shirts were mold-encrusted and our cycling shorts had disintegrated). We still managed to discover the amazing network of bike lanes across the city while we ran our errands. We left the city after two short days, but we were well-fed, well-rested and well-equipped.   Leaving San Francisco

Since my parents visit, we hadn't been on our bikes for nearly a month, so we decided to enjoy the scenery and ride shorter distances every day. We also wanted to slow down so that we wouldn't arrive in Vancouver with snow still on the ground. We hadn't done a huge amount of route planning, and it wasn't until we purchased our map that we realised that the biggest North Coast city after San Francisco had a population of about 35,000 people. Typically, the towns we crossed had populations between 500 and 1000 people. As it was still the cool, rainy spring season, the highway wasn't busy with the hordes of summer tourists. The camp sites were completely deserted. Most nights we were the only campers in huge multi-site state parks. Other than drizzle on a few days, the weather was perfect for cycling and sleeping especially after months of Southeast Asian heat but I was beginning to feel pretty lonely on the empty highway.
  First night of camping at the deserted Samuel P. Taylor State Park

  North Coast, outside the town of Jenner

  We're the only campers at Stillwater Cove Regional Park

  On the way to Gualala

We slowly made our way up the coast until the small town of Gualala where we stopped to re-evaluate our plans. Yann had been complaining about a sharp pain in the back of his knee since getting off the plane in San Francisco. After more than a week, the pain had not subsided at all. He could still cycle, but he had difficulty walking. When he first mentioned the pain I had attributed it to sitting weirdly and had largely ignored his complaints, but it seemed unusual that over a week later he was still in so much pain.

We checked into a small hotel and called our insurance company to inquire about our coverage in the United States. After describing Yann's symptoms we got the instructions to "go to the hospital immediately", they suspected a blood-clot from the long flight. It was Sunday evening, we were in a town of 500 people, the nearest hospital was a three hour drive away. I felt pretty panicked, I had been totally downplaying Yann's pain to make him feel better, while simultaneously reading about scary blood clots.

Within minutes of calling 911, the local firemen and paramedics were in the parking lot of our hotel. Yann was pretty embarrassed as they carried him off in a stretcher. Even though his condition was potentially dangerous, he felt fine and the situation seemed somewhat absurd. We ended up at the local clinic, where the doctor concluded (as we already knew), that he'd have to get to a larger hospital where they could perform an ultrasound. The staff were incredibly kind, and even suggested that we load our bicycles and equipment into the ambulance so that we wouldn't be stuck leaving everything behind (we ruled it out pretty quickly though). It took us three hours on the winding highway, backtracking on the route we had ridden over the course of a week. The sheer cliff-side seemed a lot scarier in the dark from the front seat of an ambulance.

Hospital staff were waiting for Yann when we arrived at the hospital in Santa Rosa. Yann's ultrasound revealed a small blood clot in his leg, but since it was not in a major vein there was no danger of the clot travelling to his heart or lungs. It would just be painful until it would eventually dissolve by itself. We were discharged at midnight, relieved, but in a bit of shock. We had gone from cycling the coast, to sitting in a county hospital hundreds of kilometres away. Exhausted we checked into a hotel and made plans to get back to our bicycles the next day.   Last photo of the trip, sitting in Gualala waiting for the bus to San Francisco

It took a full day of public transport to get is back to Gualala where we spent another night. We had already made the decision that this would mark the end of our trip. We were tired and unenthusiastic and Yann was still in a lot of pain. We felt it was the right time to head home, about 6 weeks earlier than we had originally planned. It wasn't a particularly difficult decision, although it did feel like a pretty disappointing finish line. We travelled back to San Francisco, the fourth time on the same stretch of highway. A series of public buses connected us to the airport and we arrived in snow-covered Ottawa the next day, with our relieved family waiting for us.

Stats for SFO to Gualala, California:

Days of cycling: 5
Days of rest: 3
Kilometres cycled: 237
Metres climbed: 2916
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1
Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop Expedition Support

Malaysia and Singapore with Parents

My parents (Jean and Susan) braved 22 hours of flying to meet up with us for a two-and-a-half week tour of Malaysia and Singapore. Despite the 35 degree weather they were epic troopers, never turning down an activity and always bouncing along with more energy than Yann and me. Among many things, they enjoyed closet-sized dorm rooms (with broken air-conditioning), culinary misadventures, vomit-inducing bus rides and a night train across the country. But there was lots of good stuff too, as you'll see below in the highlights of our sweaty tropical tour!

My parents landed in Singapore at about midnight and we all went to bed way later after hearing a play-by-play of the nearly disastrous start to the trip. My Dad had been an airport employee's decision away from not being allowed to board his flight out of Ottawa. In a classic Dad move, he had left his bag unattended as he decided to go for a last minute bathroom run. Meanwhile the entire plane (including my Mom) had already boarded the plane. When he returned to find his bag surrounded by security his obliviousness was evident to airport staff as they let him on the plane with only a mild scolding. To further endear himself to fellow passengers, my dad boarded the plane with a gigantic backpack.

He had been successful in avoiding the checking of his single bag but this had necessitated the wearing of three layers of clothing, including socks. What he wasn't wearing was dangled from his belt or tied around his waist. He arrived in Singapore about an inch thicker. While, in his defence, most of his bag was filled with items that we had requested, the decision to pack three pairs of shoes and only two pairs of underwear was entirely his own.

Despite the late night arrival, we were off early in the morning to catch a bus into Malaysia where we would spent the next two weeks. Our first destination was Melaka, colonial-era trading post, recently-named UNESCO World Heritage Site and popular weekend getaway for nearby Singaporeans.

The midday heat was suffocating, but we managed to take in most of the city's sights, relics of the various colonial powers who exchanged control of the port: the Portuguese, Dutch and finally the British.   Being interviewed by local students on a school trip, at the ruins of the Portuguese A Famosa Fort

The real triumph of our time in Melaka was my parents' unbelievable culinary prowess. Our very first dinner in Malaysia was satay celup, a regional form of satay where diners cook their own skewers in a peanut broth. We joined the queue outside the popular Restoran Capitol Satay, along with dozens of locals and visitors. My jet-lagged mother dozed in-and-out of sleep while Yann made sure she didn't topple off her bench into the open sewer that ran across the front of the restaurant. By the time we were seated, we'd been watching the dining experience, and the open sewer, for almost an hour and our satay-eating enthusiasm was waning every so slightly (except Yann who was keener than ever).

We were first directed to the skewers, where, of the many choices on display, only a handful were recognisable. We returned to our table with our metallic trays, filled with a rather conservative selection of items and waited for a waitress to stir up our bubbling peanut sludge. While tasty, presentation was not a consideration. Nor was service, as the waitress repeatedly came back to stir up our carefully positioned skewers with stern-faced determination.
  Dinner at celebrated Restoran Capitol Satay

On their second night in Southeast Asia, my parents tasted one the region's most questionable of delicacies, the durian fruit. My Mom was the first to agree to the challenge, on the condition that I do it with her. My Dad, not to be outdone, also dove right in while Yann somehow got out of it. Here is part of the experience, captured in two elegant shots. You can see that by the end my Mom didn't think it was all that bad. I remained unconvinced.
  Durian-tasting in Melaka

Kuala Lumpur
We spent four days in Kuala Lumpur, as we had been warned by Melakans, it was hotter in the capital than it was on the coast. During the day, temperatures rose above 40 degrees, forcing us to seek out indoor air-conditioned locations: the Islamic Arts Museum, the KLCC Aquaria and several of the city's ridiculous, luxury shopping malls. We still spent large portions of our days trudging through the heat yet managing to do a surprising amount including a wonderful cooking class:
  Petronas Towers, Jamek Mosque, KLCC Aquaria, KL Bird Park, Jalan Alor Street, Lazat Cooking School

George Town, Penang Island
From Kuala Lumpur we booked an overnight train to Butterworth, the mainland stop across the channel from Penang Island. When we bought our tickets at $15 each, I thought they were a great deal, but I somewhat underestimated the inconvenience of a 5:00am arrival. Of the dozen or so people who disembarked in Butterworth, almost all were exhausted looking backpackers. We all shuffled along the walkway to the connected ferry terminal and waited on the cold metal benches until the gates opened half an hour later. Yann and I, having just recently been to George Town, were able to navigate the unlit streets of the old town, getting to our hotel without too many wrong turns. But not without killing a bit of time, stopping for what was now our usual breakfast, fresh roti canai and Malaysian coffee, at one of the country's ubiquitous 24-hour Indian-Malay restaurants.   Who wants bacon and eggs when you can have roti canai ?!

Our pace didn't slow down in George Town (nor did the temperature drop). We hit all the major sights, the popular street food vendors, the street art trail, the Chinese clan houses and jetties, the funicular to Penang Hill and the enormous and stranger Chinese Temple, Kek Lok Si. My Mom even talked her way into a Malaysian court room while we visited the British-era Penang Supreme Courthouse (the rest of us were excluded due to our too casual appearance).   Posing with one of the George Town's most popular art installations

The Cameron Highlands
We ended our two weeks in Malaysia in the Cameron Highlands, 1400 metres higher and 15-20 degrees cooler than anywhere else we'd been in the country. Admittedly, unless you're really into trekking, there isn't a huge amount of stuff to do, and the towns are ugly. But no one cares because of the lovely natural surroundings and the cool weather! On the weekends, tourists flock to the highlands and the single-lane highway is backed up for kilometres. We joined the masses on an organized tour of the local attractions the highlight being the spectacular tea plantations. We also made a valiant attempt at a self-guided trek, with my Dad leading the way and my Mom openly plotting a mutiny.   The Boh Tea Company's plantations viewed from the balcony of their restaurant

  No more hikes for Susan and Emilie, just freshly-baked scones from the Lord's Cafe in Tanah Rata

It took us almost 12 hours to get from the Cameron Highlands to Singapore. The highway down from the mountains was too much for my Mom to handle from the back seat of our speeding mini-van. Despite preventative Gravol, she was on the side of the highway vomiting before very long. The front seat was graciously given up, allowing us to continue without another stop, but the driver didn't seem to understand that by accelerating and slamming on the brakes through every turn he wasn't helping the situation.

We made it to Kuala Lumpur from where we planned to catch an onward bus. There was a bit of confusion about where we should be getting off and as we unloaded our bags from the mini-van, our driver grumpily ordered us to get back in when he understood that we were heading to Singapore. I wasn't entirely trusting of our driver, from what I had researched there were no direct buses from downtown Kuala Lumpur to Singapore. We reluctantly re-entered the mini-van where my Dad found his wallet on the seat! The relief of not losing that wallet made up for the subsequent madness.

We were roped onto an illegally-operating bus, boarding from a street corner as staff kept a look out for police. We had been sold fake tickets from an official counter working in partnership with the rogue bus company. My Mom got into a fight with another passenger over the seats that we had been promised by the fake ticket sellers, and we were dropped off in Johor Bahru despite purchasing tickets to Singapore. When we complained the driver bought us tickets for the public bus to Singapore and sent us on our way. Yann and I were furious, my Mom was having great fun, and my Dad was happily convinced that we were paying the price for finding his wallet.

Finally arriving in Singapore, we were ripped off by our cab driver, the air-conditioning in our tiny dorm room ceased functioning at midnight, and the robotic voice at the subway entrance outside our window repeated it's warning every 30 seconds, all night. Things picked up the next day. The hostel refunded our money and we settled into a new hotel.

We spent three days exploring Singapore, a modern and orderly city, especially in contrast with Malaysia. Of all the sights we took in: the Singapore Zoo, the Gardens by the Bay, Orchard Road, the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple, Marina Bay Sands, Chinatown, Kampong Glam two things stood out as highlights: drinks with a view from the 33rd floor balcony of a Marina Bay restaurant and sipping on over-priced Singapore Slings at the Long Bar of the Raffles Hotel, site of the drink's invention. The latter, top item on my Mom's to-do list, was a perfect end to our holiday.   View from the balcony of Level33 Restaurant in Singapore

  Singapore Slings at the Raffles Hotel

To Singapore Along Malaysia's West Coast

We chose to cycle the more populated west coast of Malaysia and it was a bit rough. We avoided the monsoon on the east, but our ride took us through some of the densest traffic and hottest weather we'd experienced on the road. It wasn't very pleasant.   Yann on one of many stretches of busy Malaysian highway that we couldn't seem to avoid

It took us two days of riding and a short ferry to get to George Town on Penang Island. We actually had a nice little five day holiday in the bustling city, famous for its hawker food. And as a nice surprise we were joined by Margaux and Arif who bused from Kuala Lumpur to spend a few final days with us. We ate a lot and did a more recent activity on the George Town tourist scene: the "Street Art Trail".   George Town's most iconic art installation "Kids on Bicycle" by Ernest Zacharevic

  With Margaux and Arif at art installation "Brother and Sister on Swing"

With Margaux's encouragement, we also tried durian fruit for the first (and last) time. Here is a video of the experience, you can see how gracefully I handled it. We met up with Margaux and Arif one more time in Ipoh, an important Malaysian city at the height of the tin-mining boom at the turn of the 19th century. We had read that it had a certain gritty charm due to its important collection colonial architecture, much of it neglected. We had a fair bit of time before having to meet my parents in Singapore, so we planned for 3 nights in Ipoh. As we rode into the city there seemed to be more grit than there was charm. So we stuck it out for two nights, walked the "Ipoh Heritage Trail" and moved on. Not that there was much improvement until we reached the town of Melaka.   Our charming Ipoh Hotel neighbourhood

  Concubine Lane in Old Ipoh, where rich merchants kept their concubines at the height of the tin mining era

We rode from one unfriendly, ugly highway motel to the next. We didn't have a very good Malaysian map, so we ended up on fairly busy highways, none of which had shoulders. We had tried to avoid the high prices and crowds of Chinese New Year but it meant staying in the middle of nowhere with not much to do. We probably should have ridden into the mountains but the temptation of flat riding was too much to overcome. By the time we came into busy tourist destination of Melaka, it was a welcome relief to see the crowds of travellers. We stayed in Melaka for a few days without doing much because we knew we'd be revisiting with my parents.   Yann at a lunch stop along the highway

  Friendly "no trespassing" sign frequently spotted at palm oil plantations

We had one last 3-day push to get to Singapore including a long 130km day. No climbing but high temperatures and crazy traffic as we approached the city of Johor Bahru connected to Singapore by the Woodlands Causeway. The big event was hitting the 10,000km mark outside the town of Pontian in the middle of nowhere. We took photos but didn't pick out a celebratory treat until a few days later when we bought a caramel donut in Johor Bahru.
  Hitting the 10,000km mark - somewhere between Muar and Pontian

After many weeks of heat and highway we couldn't have been happier to arrive at fellow cyclist Rajiv's apartment in Singapore where we would relax for a few days before my parents' arrival and a two week break from cycling.   With our host Rajiv on a tour of Singapore

We've been cycling in South-East Asia for almost 5 months and our tolerance for heat and crowds is definitely at its breaking point, so after much deliberation we booked flights to San Francisco where the next part of our journey will begin.

Stats for Thale Ban National Park (Malaysian Border) to Singapore:

Days of cycling: 12
Days of rest: 14
Kilometres cycled: 1006
Metres climbed: 4000
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 7

Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop Expedition Support

Across Thailand for the Holidays

Before setting out towards Bangkok we spent a day resting at Yun's place in Mae Sot. We had intended to do some touring around the area but I didn't feel well and slept for most of the day. When I woke up in the afternoon I discovered Yann, Yun and another friend Toon working away at my bicycle which had been completely disassembled and spread across the yard. The three of them spent the entire day cleaning and tuning up our bicycles. I can't say that Yann looked entirely in control of the situation, but everything worked out!   Yann and Toon working away at our bikes

  The mechanics after a long day of work: Yun, Yann and Toon

We left the next day, on a Saturday, so Yun and Toon were able to ride with us. The climb wasn't any easier leaving Mae Sot then it was in the other direciton, especially with our Thai friends setting the pace. They accompanied us to the top of the mountains separating the cities of Mae Sot and Tak where we camped at an isolated forest ranger station. It was a beautiful spot and a nice way to end our time with our new friends who had housed us, fed us and even took apart and cleaned our bicycles!   Campsite at Doi Muser

Our next week of riding across central Thailand was almost too easy. We had a tailwind the entire time and stuck to the main, (extremely flat) highway. We were on our way to Bangkok where we had a date to meet my cousin Margaux and her boyfriend Arif for Christmas. The ride wasn't very beautiful, but it was relatively effortless. Since we were making such good time, we felt pretty content despite the utterly uninspiring highway riding.   It doesn't get any flatter than this

Between Mae Sot and Bangkok we broke up the ride in order to visit three historic cities, Kamphaeng Phet, Lopburi and Ayutthaya. All three were interesting, but we were really eager to meet up with Margaux and Arif so we were maybe not the most committed tourists. And the closer we got to the Bangkok the busier were the tourist attractions. We only saw two other tourists in Kamphaeng Phet (also cycle-tourists) and in contrast, Ayutthaya, a popular day-trip from Bangkok had hundreds, if not thousands of visitors.   The Buddhas of Wat Phra Kaeo, Kampheang Phet Historical Park where we were the only visitors

  In Ayutthaya, we waited in line to photograph this famous Buddha at Wat Mahathat

In between the two was Lopburi, famous for its temple monkeys who are served an elaborate feast once a year in a popular festival. We only visited the main temple, Prang Sam Yot and had to be accompanied by a stick-wielding guard for the tour. Despite his presence, a member of our tour group had an earring ripped right out of her ear by a resident monkey. It was definitely more scary than it was cute.   The three Khmer-style towers of Prang Sam Yot, Lopburi's most famous temple

  Fighting for food that has just been dumped in a parking lot outside Prang Sam Yot Temple in Lopburi

We were dreading our ride into Bangkok but we rode in on a beautiful Sunday on small back roads with a strong tailwind once again. We knew we had chosen the right route when we were passed by packs of cyclists on their weekend ride. We were told by one of them that it was the coldest Sunday ride he'd ever been on. Amazing! The traffic intensified as we approached the city, but nothing particularly scary. We were probably helped by the anti-government protests that had forced a lot of the downtown traffic to be rerouted leaving the streets around our hotel almost completely empty (also the fact that it was Sunday was probably had something to do with the quiet streets).

We spent five days, including Christmas, in Bangkok with Margaux and Arif. They had flown in from India to meet up with us and were still recovering from some pretty serious stomach issues when we arrived. So they were not exactly ready for full-out Bangkok touring which was totally fine with us as we were more interested in spending time with them. We did lots of catching up and exchanging stories of travel misadventures (they seemed to have a few more than we did) and while they rested, we were able to run a bunch of errands, the most important of which was tracking down a new back wheel to replace the used one that we bought over 2000km earlier (and was still miraculously intact).   Christmas in Bangkok!

Happily, by Christmas Day, Margaux and Arif were on the mend and we had an indulgent self-catered dinner on the roof of our hotel. Our menu included most of the things we'd been craving and were too cheap to buy: wine, cheese, olives, roast chicken, baguette, ham, chocolate, gummy bears and cheesecake!   Another holiday indulgence: poutine!

For the next few weeks, we made our way south with Margaux and Arif. We rode and they followed along by public transport. We were grateful to have such accommodating travel companions. They took trains, mini-buses, taxis and motorbikes and ended up in a fair number of random destinations.

Leaving Bangkok, we had four more days of flat, tailwind-assisted riding. Although the ride out of Bangkok was a fairly unpleasant one and considerably worse than the ride in. It took almost 60km before we were able to clear the city traffic and get onto a secondary road. One of the worst riding days of our trip.
We met up with Margaux and Arif in Petchaburi and Hua Hin on the way to a beach resort where we were planning a longer rest. We were only in Petchaburi for one evening, not really enough time to visit anything. And we gave ourselves two days in Hua Hin, which was more than enough. We inadvertently booked rooms in the "old gross white man sitting at bars all day neighbourhood" where old gross white men outnumbered other tourists by a ratio of about 10 to 1 and bars outnumbered other business by a similar ratio. The weather was also unusually cold and windy, great for cycling but not so great for the Hua Hin beaches.
  Trying to keep warm at Khao Takiab Beach, Hua Hin

Riding south from Hua Hin we were able to stay off the main highways and had a few really lovely stretches of coastal riding on small back roads before meeting up with Margaux and Arif again at the isolated Sananwan Beach, 240km south of Hua Hin.   Morning along the Gulf of Thailand, Prachuap Khiri Khan

We spent five days, including New Year's Day vacationing at Sananwan Beach on the Gulf of Thailand, 7km away from the closet village, tiny Bang Saphan Noi. We swam everyday, got massages, ate seafood purchased fresh every morning and polished off 4.5 litres of boxed wine. Renting the guesthouse scooter to go shop at the village was the most active we got. Total rest and relaxation!   Our own private beach, Bang Saphan Noi

  Taking it easy at Sananwan Beach, Bang Saphan Noi

Margaux and Arif got an extra day at the beach while as we got a head start to Krabi, seven days away. We rode south, then crossed over to the Andaman Coast. The cold spell that we'd been enjoying had passed while we lounged at the beach and it was now hot and 100% humidity. We made our way from one sweaty, musty guesthouse to another, the low point being the discovery of a giant bed bug on my arm one morning. Being in the narrowest part of the country, we were stuck on the national highway, with all the other traffic, for most of the ride. The highway is a few kilometres from the coast so we rarely got a glimpse of the sea except for our few failed attempts at finding budget beach front accommodation. We were tired and relieved when we pulled into our Krabi.

Krabi is a jumping off point for many of the nearby islands and beaches so transport prices are a bit inflated, but accommodation and food are relatively cheap. We had originally talked of an island getaway, but the high peak season prices kind of turned us off so we ended up staying in town instead. Seeing as our most enjoyable daily activity tends to be eating, this wasn't a bad decision. There were lots of great food options and a huge weekend night market. Food in Thailand has consistently been delicious and the city's dining scene didn't disappoint .

Margaux and I decided to splurge on a cooking class at nearby Ao Nang Beach, Arif and Yann paid an accompanying fee so that they could watch and eat. The course was fairly basic, but we had fun and our food was delicious, especially our curries. I came out vowing that I would buy a giant mortar and pestle to make my own curry pastes at home. We'll see how that works out.
  Making our own curry pastes at the Thai Charm Cooking School, Ao Nang Beach, Krabi

  Chicken with cashew nuts by Margaux

After three weeks together, we parted ways with Margaux and Arif whose pace required a bit of acceleration. It was sad to leave them as we had perfected a balance of riding and relaxation while they were around (they were really helping with the relaxation part).

It took us four days to ride from Krabi to the most western Thai-Malaysian Border. We were no longer in tourist territory, we were in rubber territory. We spent a lot of the time riding through rubber plantations. Locals seemed a lot happier to see us, there was a distinctly more friendly vibe in the area.   Rows of rubber trees in Satun Province on the way to Malaysia

We spent our last night in Thailand camping at Thale Ban National Park, a few kilometres from the border. When we arrived at the head office we were told that we would be joined by over 100 students on a class trip! The incredibly nice staff, who kept saying “it's going to be loud, you should think about it”, as if we had somewhere else to go, offered us a place beside the head ranger's home instead, away from the main campsite. The students only found us the next morning for an extended (and adorable) photo session after which we packed up and made our way into Malaysia.

Mae Sot to Thale Ban National Park (Malaysian Border)

Days of cycling: 21
Days of rest: 16
Kilometres cycled: 1837
Metres climbed: 9300m
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 7
Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop Expedition Support