Today didn’t happen! It was bad enough that my cough and cold had forced me to withdraw temporarily from this most dramatic leg of the expedition for the day, but I’m sure I didn’t deserve this day. I was on holiday, for God’s sake! The decision to spend the day in the support truck had been a difficult one to take, and as Dean and I said goodbye to the boys in the glorious morning sunshine I felt quite saddened.

The remaining four cyclists departed on their trip up towards Gyatso La, the highest pass on the Friendship Highway. The target was going to be a road workers camp approximately 12km shy of the pass. Dean and I chatted about life for an hour or so, whilst our guide, Sony, and new driver, Lappa, buried their heads in the engine of the truck. Not an unusual occurrence, but this morning things were looking pretty dire. After almost two hours, and a trip to the sweet shop it began to get a bit worrying. The boys would be miles away, and we were supposed to be able to offer them support.

Our Tibetan friends eventually grew tired of trying to crank the engine over and warm the spark plugs up with a fairly hefty looking bunsen burner, and sought help from a passing truck driver. He too tried some fairly elementary maintenance, but to no avail. Then another truck was called in - to tow ours round in circles until they were able to bump-start it. Success at last. It had taken almost 3 hours to get it going. Sony’s classic comment the night before when we were first introduced to our new driver: "he may not look that bright, but he’s good with engines" didn’t really cut any ice at that moment in time.

Not content with being almost 3 hours later in leaving than the cyclists, we then had to go via the petrol station, for which Dean dug her hands in her pockets!

Finally we got going - just! I’ve never been in a vehicle moving so slowly. Every single bump in the road we slowed right down for; often stalling. We took great delight in ripping the piss out of our seemingly incompetent driver; even Sony soon joined in! At the side of the road were large, very large, piles of grit, dust and gravel, prepared by the road workers - pretty easy to see. He regularly took detours over these lumps, which prompted me to offer him my sunglasses - got snared, and he seemed to get a bit narked. Difficult to say though, as he was such a miserable looking sod anyway!

This ‘eventful’ driving served as entertainment for the first hour or so, but soon began to wear a little thin as we realised what a concerning situation we could be in if the boys actually needed support. We tried to get this message across to Lappa, via Sony, but with no effect. He seemed oblivious to our plight, or maybe just didn’t care. We must have stopped almost a dozen times in our drive to the road workers camp.

The scenery, as ever, was pretty spectacular. Some strange ice stalagmite formations in fields caused by the ever-present wind. We even caught another glimpse of the ominous Mt. Everest - but none of this could take our minds off our situation with this uninspiring driver. We both just wanted to punch him!

Dean & I had a little bet as to what time we’d see the boys. I guessed at 16:15 - and by pure luck that was when we did see them, but only because they’d been stopped at the road workers camp for 20 minutes. We found the four lads ensconced within, supping on sweet tea, and were grateful for the snacks we offered to them as we came together. We were grateful too, if only to be away from that bloody truck and driver.

The day was but young, and since they’d had half an hour rest, they decided to push on over Gyatso La pass and on into Lhatse. It was going to be a late one for them, but they were in good spirits and it meant a days rest in Lhatse for Dean’s birthday. They set off.

We left the friendly road workers with a couple of packets of biscuits for good measure and headed for the dreaded truck. We got the engine running and reversed back to the road….and stalled! We eventually got going at a snails pace, and after just 3 or 4 km we caught up with the boys and past them. We then broke down at the next large bump in the road. They caught up with us and took the opportunity for a quick drink.

It took a while, but we got going again, after a short time spent under the bonnet for Lappa, but our pace hadn’t improved. We overtook the lads again, and continued for another 2 or 3 km - we were approximately 6 km from the top of Gyatso La. The truck stopped, the bonnet went up and Lappa buried himself in the engine once more. The boys re-joined us again shortly afterwards. It was 17:30. They stopped for another quick drink stop, and listened to a combination of whinges about the truck and driver, and encouragement to conquer the pass from both Dean and myself. It egged them on, and they were soon pedalling uphill once more. Our optimistic aim was to meet them at the top for photos.

After their departure, we took our frustrations out on the nearby frozen stream with a handful of stones - it sort of helped. An hour of futile engine maintenance took place, before I stuck my head in. It was a fuel problem, and whilst operating the fuel pump it seemed fairly obvious that there was a leak just ahead of the carburettor. I offered a piece of plastic bag to help seal the connection but was grunted at, and gestured to simply bugger off! Lappa seemed more interested in pouring fuel directly into the carburettor, and surprise, surprise, the engine fired into life! This fiasco continued for a while, with Lappa pumping the gas pedal, and Sony standing in the engine adding the necessary fuel. Perhaps the intention was to travel by this mode to the top of the pass and then coast downhill?! Eventually they spotted the flaw in their plan and tried other pointless approaches.

It was now getting close to 19:00. Dean was particularly worried that the pair of us were going to be stuck at over 5000m for the night, and there was a real chance we’d suffer from altitude sickness. I tried to re-assure her that we would get down - either way - and Sony added that Land Cruisers would pass this way shortly on their way from Tingri to Lhatse. We weren’t convinced since no vehicle had past in the right direction for over an hour.

Uncannily enough we had come to rest adjacent to the only dwelling for miles around, just a frozen stream some 10-15m between us.

One truck passing in the opposite direction bound for the Nepalese border could not be persuaded to turn around for love nor money.

Then a shiny Land Cruiser came into our view - our saviour. Both Dean and I got quite excited at the sight, and we yelled at Sony to come over - he’d found his way over to the road camp on the other side of the of the frozen stream discussing ‘options’.

The Land Cruiser was flagged down by myself and Sony, and our guide began negotiating on our behalf. My suspicions were alerted to the fact that things were not going too well when their debate seemed to be getting fairly heated. I won’t say what was said (once it had been translated for us), but it wasn’t good. Once they’d had the opportunity to exchange highly intellectual phrases with one another, the Chinese driver began to drive off. I shouted ‘Thank You’ and caused him to stop - I don’t think it was just the hint of sarcasm thrown his way, but he took the opportunity to reel off another exciting monologue which made absolutely no sense to me. Bless him! I tried gesticulating and explaining that Dean and I could not just be left in the middle of nowhere, but I might as well have been talking in English to him….With a final vocal flurry he took off. I just couldn’t believe how rude and discompassionate this man and his two female passengers could be. I really felt like hurling a rock through his rear window as he stumbled off along the rocky road, but thought better of it. What a wanker!

We obviously weren’t going anywhere for a while. Sony was still insistent that Land Cruisers would come - but we were not convinced. We tried to get the message across to him once more that we (he) had to find a way of getting us down off this mountain before nightfall - not that far away - and either way would do. His response "I have no method" was not well received.

The worst case now seemed that we’d stay in the road camp across the stream. At least we’d be warm (hopefully), although at over 5000m with a real risk that one or both of us would be ill! However, Sony had struck a deal with the man across the stream. This guy owned a ‘trucket’ - a strange tractor-like contraption with a trailer which had no backdoor! The driver precariously made his way over the frozen expanse of water towards us - I had to photograph it out of a sick sense of duty. I was still a little confused as to the plan, but Dean and I gathered some essentials together - especially warm clothing - and hopped into the trailer along with Sony and the drivers mate. Lappa remained with the truck and our bad thoughts.

The enormity of what we were about to attempt didn’t really dawn on either of us at the time, but the plan was to travel 6km up to the top of Gyatso La, and then down 28km to Lhatse in this contraption - absolute lunacy!!

Dean was still convinced that the boys would arrive in Lhatse, realise something was wrong when we didn’t arrive with them and send a Land Cruiser back to rescue us. I agreed that Richard would have that sense, but it would still be sometime before they’d get to Lhatse themselves. This seemed to pacify her for a while.

We set off, very slowly, very noisily, very smellily and very bumpily - but at least we were heading in the right direction.

Just as we got underway the snow started - hats on, collars up and eyes closed. On such a rickety contraption over such a rough road, us soft westerners found the experience somewhat hard going - a real white knuckle ride, but we laughed and joked and sang our way through the first few minutes.

We all began the trip by sitting on the sides of the trailer as our driver rocked on up towards the 5220m pass - it was the Tibetan way to travel! Comfort was not an option.

Dean buried her head in her coat, and peeped out occasionally to catch my eye at every ‘serious’ bump in the road. I don’t think either of us could believe what was happening. We kept an ever hopeful eye open on the road behind us and ahead of us for any sign of a saviour - Land Cruiser, truck or helicopter would do.

Sony accepted the offer of a piece of foam padding to comfort his dainty posterior after Dean had turned it down. After just 2 or 3km of uphill toil, we stopped and our current saviours hopped out to retrieve water from a seemingly frozen culvert - it seems all Tibetan vehicles that travel for more than two yards overheat in this most extreme of conditions. They blew the ice off and we continued.

After clouting her back several times on the side of the trailer, Dean was offered an alternative and quite luxurious seat in the form of a metal bucket and the foam - marvellous!! Sony and I continued to cling on for dear life as Lappa and our truck finally disappeared from view, although I’m sure both could still feel our loathing.

With still no sign of vehicular life with in a million mile radius we reached the summit of Gyatso La. The scenery, that which I’d seen, had been surprisingly ordinary on the ascent, something Richard and I agreed on later as resembling Exmoor.

We made a very necessary stop at the top as our two Tibetan friends went about altering the braking. This seemed to involved connecting a metal wire from one side of the trailer to the other and then tightening up. If it was attached to the rear wheels in anyway I couldn’t tell - it just seemed to pull the sides closer together and afford a small amount of security against bouncing out the back of the trailer.

A photo was obviously required to record this splendid moment, and Sony did the honours. I bet if you asked a thousand western travellers on the Friendship Highway how and when they crossed Gyatso La, not one of them would say they were on a trucket at dusk - but what else could we do?

We were off again. If we had thought that the uphill trip had been rough, we were in for a rude awakening with the path heading sharply downhill. The engine was off or idling, the brakes most definitely off and we went hurtling onwards to Lhatse. It was unbearable. Whilst the drivers mate sat nonchalantly smoking a cigarette hands free, we bounced around like frogs in a blender - not too pretty.

Everything I looked at I could see at least five of at any one time. This couldn’t go on and after just 1km I yelled across to Sony to ask our driver to slow our chariot down. I’d rather have walked!! We were heading past a field containing many yak - they exchanged incredulous stares with us. Dean suggested we swapped our current mode of transport for a soft, warm and probably more comfortable yak - it was a nice thought.

We did eventually slow down. Sony’s original guestimate for our expected time of arrival changed from 8pm to 9pm. Funnily enough neither of us believed him, but at least the snow had decided to leave us alone.

We continued downhill with a mild improvement in our collective discomfort. Sony and I began shifting uncomfortably, and both ended up sitting on the floor of the trailer - Tim’s snugpak jacket came into it’s own as an excellent bum protector for me - thanks Tim, sorry you didn’t get to wear it at the top of the pass as planned.

Dean expressed her current state of distress in no uncertain terms several times, while I tried to keep both our spirits up with a few song snippits - including ‘Summer Holiday’ - and a few crap jokes. Dean’s best one came as ‘What do you call a donkey with three legs and one eye? - Winky wonky!’ You see, it can’t have been that bad.

I concurred with Dean that our situation was wholly unsatisfactory, and vowed to lodge a formal complaint with Sony’s boss, Tashi, once we’d recovered in Lhatse - besides which I was going to have to pay our driver for this pleasure as Sony claimed to have no cash!

It gradually became dark and the really big bumps were getting difficult to spot, and therefore I was unable to give Dean much or any warning and thus save her some severe discomfort. The three headlights on the trucket were next to useless, but ably assisted by his colleague, our driver avoided both the big rocks and falling off the side of the road - we were grateful for that if nothing else.

Sony informed us that there was a checkpost only 5km ahead, and that it was a possibility that they would have a jeep we could make use of or at least a floor we could sleep on. It was now dark and we were both starting to feel physically wrecked. Needless to say neither of us had much faith in Sony’s distance estimates anymore. One good thing - we were going the right way.

Just as it was getting unbearable, lights came into view ahead of us - a vehicle was approaching. I said nothing to Dean, not wishing to get her hopes up - she was looking backwards if anywhere.

As it got closer Dean turned round and saw it heading our way - the slowing down and moving over to the side manoeuvre probably gave it away. She became highly excited, believing that by now Richard would have reached Lhatse and dispatched a Land Cruiser to save us. It was just after 9pm. I said nothing as the vehicle grew ever closer. I watched one of its headlights blink out and looked skywards - I kind of knew what that signified. I looked at the Plough constellation above - we’d been following it Eastwards for quite sometime now.

The Land Cruiser turned out to be anothre truck heading for the border, and we didn’t even attempt to stop it. Sony looked mournful; this ordeal was obviously something he had never experienced before and was one he was not prepared for. His tender 20 years of age were beginning to show.

Dean became near hysterical and cried uncontrollably - she couldn’t help herself, the situation becoming a nightmare. I hugged her and tried to comfort her with a few words. Of course Richard would send a Land Cruiser soon, but it was likely that they hadn’t long reached Lhatse. She gradually recovered her composure and asked why I was so calm. Simple - she wasn’t!!

We set off again. Dean’s bucket had become more and more uncomfortable, and so now sat on the floor of the trailer in front of me. We bounced and rattled still nonetheless.

A quick pit-stop was made to allow me some relief. Sony now felt that Dean and I were blaming him for our situation. We both made it as plain and simple as possible to him that it wasn’t his fault, we were just highly frustrated at being in this predicament - but he needed a lot of persuading.

We rumbled along at roughly 7kph by my reckoning, but the kilometre marker posts were getting difficult to see now in the dark. Ahead I could just make out more lights. Once again I kept quiet, then three dogs let rip and gave the game away. Could it be the checkpost Sony had promised? Obviously not. I spotted a truck at the roadside too, adjacent to what turned out to be another road workers camp. Over the noise of the trucket and the angry sounding dogs I vainly asked Sony about the truck. Following a short Tibetan conference I was reliably informed that it had broken down a few days ago - of course!!

This was getting tedious now. Dean was getting highly agitated over our situation, and as the time crept up to 10pm, she still couldn’t believe that no-one had sent a rescue party for us. I did my best to pacify her, but I was becoming less and less convincing.

That was it - I could stand no more. My insides had been shaken around so much I couldn’t tell which bit went where. My stomach was killing me; I had to have a break. I used Sony as my intermediary and reluctantly the driver brought his vehicle to a halt. ‘What a jessie!’ they must have thought. I lay back and stretched out. Maybe I was about to give birth. It was bloody painful.

I was also starting to get cold, so as well as stretching my legs, I took the opportunity to don my goretex cycling trousers - my third layer! Dean was already using my goretex jacket to keep her feet warm - funnily enough the sock and sandals she had on weren’t doing a very good job.

After a couple of minutes respite I hopped back into the trailer, praying that there couldn’t be much further to go. Sony’s revised estimate was now 5km (again) to the checkpost, and a further 4km to Lhatse. Dean expressed her disbelief, in no uncertain terms once again, and Sony became very defensive, claiming that he never lied. I didn’t disagree, he just happened to be fairly inaccurate with his distances.

On we went. I continued to stare at the stars - the Plough had been our companion and guide throughout the darkness.

About 2km on from the latest stopping point, I thought I saw lights from behind. Luckily Dean was facing forwards with her head buried under hat and coat. It was a definite sighting, but I had no idea what it was - other than vehicles.

Simultaneously everyone turned round in the trucket and spied the convoy heading our way. Dean started excited once again, as she hoped this would be the end of our ordeal…but we carried on. I was a little confused again; why didn’t we stop. I yelled across at Sony again, and after a bit of coaxing our humble craft drew to a halt with the approaching vehicles not more than 50metres away.

Sony and I jumped out. I was determined to stop whoever it was, and we both stood in the middle of the road - a little foolish given the dark clothing we wore in the black of night.

The first vehicle was a truck, and seemed as if it was going to carry on past us. It did, but I spotted the registration plate - it was our bloody truck!! Lappa pulled up just past the trucket. I couldn’t believe. I told Dean and she couldn’t believe it either.

There were two Land Cruisers too, sensibly travelling behind our crap truck. It turned out that the Land Cruiser drivers had helped Lappa fix the truck (I never did find out the exact problem or solution, despite asking several times) and were now able to offer us a lift to Lhatse - and comfort, safety and our friends.

One of the Land Cruiser guys came over and was most insistent that I shouldn’t blame Lappa for our problems. It was the truck, and that wasn’t anybody’s fault. Why he made such a point of this, I can only summise that Sony had said something to him. I accepted his sentiments and got our things together.

Sony agreed a price of 150Yuan with the trucket people, and I paid up (never to be seen again). We now had the option of a Land Cruiser or our truck. I don’t think you need to be told which was our choice! We gladly climbed into the back of a Land Cruiser and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

We covered the 3km to the checkpost in merely seconds. Our driver did the deed with our passports to save us any further potential stress. A Chinese official popped his head through the drivers door, checked on the documents of our two new Chinese travelling companions, and then jabbered something unintelligible in our direction. Normally I’d have made some effort, but both of us just stared blankly at him, neither of us bothering or able to offer any response. So he apologised and walked away!

Then we were heading for Lhatse at speed - for once, and in comfort. The lights of the town appeared and very shortly after we were being deposited at the back of the Lhatse Hotel in Lhatse.

Slightly dazed, we got out and tried to ask if anyone had seen four cyclists. We were ushered into the restaurant - and there they were - tucking into tasty Chinese food and Lhasa beer.

Within seconds we were sat down, both jabbering away - all relieved to be together again - and food being thrust before us. It was quite sad that the boys had covered approximately 90km today and crossed the highest point of the entire expedition, and yet here we were discussing our trip over the pass in a trucket.

I’m not sure if someone asked ‘Where have you been?’, but I hope that this explains it.

I forced food and drink down despite the protests of my stomach. We all calmed down eventually and retreated to bed. My pre-sleep visit to the toilet was interesting though. Everything had been shaken about so much that it had separated into three distinct phases; gas, liquid, solid; and that’s how it came out, in that order!! Not a pleasant experience.

Surprisingly I slept soundly, once I’d got through a few coughing fits. Only a few brief flash-backs, but with a wry smile. Doesn’t seem so horrendous in retrospect.