"Motor! Motor!", Spiderweb's voice echoes.I scream for help hoping he hears me. He does. I see him running across the bend towards me. I no longer feel my right leg. The mind gave way several shivers ago. Spiderweb will push the motorcycle off my leg and struggle to get it upright. The slithering snow will make this meager task a herculean one.
As I massage my foot back to life, Spiderweb excitedly recounts his close encounter with an avalanche just minutes from where we now stand. As we drag the R-15 upstream and turn the bend, I see what he saw at the peak of its violence. Mounds of snow strewn across the narrow pathway. Grudgingly close to the cliff, Spiderweb was inches away from being swept into a fatal rocky embrace. His steed stands shimmering in flakes.
Motorbreath returns too for he does not see us in his rear view. It takes the might of three to pull the steeds through the freshly laid obstruction. The ride continues. Many will oppose our direction as they find their way to Sarchu. We are but the first few to ride from thence. There were a mere four others, the Poles, that rode before us. Opposing cages will carve fresh tracks for us to ride into giving us some much needed traction on an otherwise tractionless terrain.
Three minutes, maybe four, a bend, a maladjustment by my now frozen hands and my rear wheel will slide out of the track and onto frozen ice. Once more I will hit the ground under the assault of gravity. This time though, Motorbreath will see me fall. He will halt and run to my rescue.
Neither Motorbreath, nor I, are now capable of breathing. The pursuit of bringing me to the vertical has left us crippled. We struggle for air as we seat ourselves in the snow. Our behaviour in the minutes to follow is bizarre. For not far from where we battle for breath, several motorists scream warning us against an impending avalanche. We can sense the danger, the deadly drip of the snow above us is unmistakeable.
And yet... we do nothing.
I cannot say that I am incapable of movement, merely that I have no desire. I recognize the urgency to move away, and yet, I cannot seem to acknowledge it. We sit motionless, Motorbreath and I, in the path of imminent danger.
It will be several long minutes before we regain our senses. By now Spiderweb has screamed himself hoarse, asking us to get out of there. Eventually we will manage to find our way onto the steeds and out of harm's way. We will never see the avalanche come to fruition but our bizarre behaviour will leave me rattled.
As minutes melt away, Spiderweb stops abruptly. I look around - I see nothing of consequence. He seems to be pointing in the direction a few feet above me. I turn around to look in the direction of his point.
What I see numbs my soul.
Partially visible, white letters on green,
BARLACHALA.
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