It’s a 70km ride up hill and down dale today.  Well, up one hill and down one hill. No dales.

The hill came upon us early on which was a blessing as I had reasonably fresh legs and managed to steadily plod my way up the first three quarters without incident.  Then disaster.  As the steepness increased I attempted to change gear down (or up? I’m never sure which way the up/down thing works in relation to gears of any description) to 1-2 and my chain came off.  As I started to fall sideways I desperately tried to unclip and at the very last moment with a wobble I was able to slam a foot to the floor and prevent myself from a less than graceful topple over.  It came pretty close – my angle was almost past the point of no return at the moment the clippy clippies (technical term) sprang free, and it was a stroke of luck that my unclipped foot was the same as the direction of fall otherwise I would have gone over even with the other side foot released.

As I tried to prize the chain from its stuck position between the sprocket and the spokes of the wheel lovely Dr D stopped to help (against my protestations that he must carry on and not stop as we were half way up the hill) and in no time at all he had popped the chain back on and received oily fingers for his trouble.

Trying to change down (up?) again literally a few meters from the top I could feel the chain slipping for a second time and as it was too steep for my 1-3 apparent max I had to get off and do the walk of shame for the last little bit. Bugger.

The cycle down the other side was fantastic.  The descent seemed to go on forever and for those few minutes as we flew down the ‘mountain’ there was no traffic on the roads except for our bicycle snake weaving around the bends and freewheeling with legs akimbo (OK, that last bit was just me).  The climb up had been thoroughly rewarded.

More villages followed (I’ll talk more about this another day) to lunch, which actually contained chicken and chips in a box.  Not a red box with a picture of the smiling Colonel, but a welcome relief for those not exactly enjoying curry for breakfast lunch and dinner.

KFC Rajasthan style

Leaving lunch disaster strikes again.  I guess if I had to choose the perfect time for a puncture then 100 yards from the lunch stop with the support truck within spitting distance would be it.  Lovely tour leader Andy was just behind me and before I knew it he had whipped the bike upside down and was in the throes of prying off the tyre and fixing the puncture before I even took my backpack off to find my own repair kit (getting the repair kit out was just for show – I knew I had no tyre leavers and so it wouldn’t have got me very far).

Now, I’m a relatively independent woman, and I’d like to think I would have risked my life for the vote alongside Emily, but I’m really not adverse to gratefully accepting help to do stuff like puncture fixing.  With the truck yards away the quickest solution was to swap the whole wheel with one from the spare bikes and get us both back on the road.

So that makes two Knights in shining lycra that have come to my rescue today.

We cycled like mad to catch up with the group and I then spent the afternoon cycling with Kerry, Judy and the Doc.  Until I ran out of water.  I sped ahead to try and catch the group and replenish my water thinking with every turn in the road I would see the bus because surely we’d done 70kms by now.   Seeing Andy at a T junction and being able to have a few sips of water was a relief.  He pointed me in the right direction and said the group and bus was waiting 10kms down the next busy stretch of road.

I cycled alone until coming across a town where it seemed the entire male population was either in some kind of vehicle or on foot blocking the road.  It’s election time in Rajasthan and we came across several rallies during our cycle ride, as well as posters of airbrushed-looking candidates no doubt promising the world to their voting public.

It struck me that if the group had parked their bikes away from the road I might cycle on past them in the confusion of trucks and people out on the streets.  I could only hope that they were waiting the other side of the town and not actually in it as I inched my way through the crowd; suddenly conscious of wearing inappropriate lycra leggings with nothing over them.  I was OK, but a couple of the girls in the group had received a touch or two that was not entirely accidental.

And then all of a sudden there they were.  With my water bottle having been empty for the last 20kms or so, my face matched my top and I was grateful for the chance to have a drink and know I was safe and sound.  I was a good 20-30 mins ahead of the last folks in and so I was glad I had pressed ahead to rehydrate.

Coordinating face and shirt colour, so on trend

And the reception from the gathered locals and children was as lovely and welcoming as ever.

All in all, a long and tiring day.  But one chain drama and a puncture does not a bad day make.  The only bad days are work days.  To top it off we had our first gins since Heathrow. Amazing.

It’s Gin O’Clock in the Ranthambore National Park