To this day, I still remember the scene of the first time I learned to ride a bike.
In the narrow alley, I climbed up the high seat, propped one foot against the wall, and placed the other on the pedal. After making sure that my buddy was holding the back of the bike, I pedaled forward with all my might. The wheels wobbled and rolled ahead. I clutched the handlebars tightly with both hands, steering it through the arched doorway and around the threshing floor for a few laps. When I looked back, my friend had already let go. “I can ride, I can ride!” Overwhelmed with joy, I shouted excitedly, savoring the thrill of the wind brushing against my face, without a clue how to stop…
At that time, I had no idea that one day, the bicycle would become my primary mode of travel, embarking on adventures spanning thousands of kilometers, all by myself with just a bike.
Time flew by, and twenty years passed in the blink of an eye.
That early summer, after experiencing a long 78 days of lockdown in Shanghai, I decided to ride a bike to Lhasa to fulfill a long – cherished dream. Although I had many opportunities before, I had never set foot in Lhasa. I insisted that the first time I arrived in the holy city should be like a pilgrim, traveling on foot over mountains and rivers. Driving was too fast, and walking was too slow. Bicycling was just right. And for cyclists, National Highway 318 is the most classic and also the most challenging route to Tibet.
Breaking free from the shackles and abandoning the conventional life, would I regret it? I had asked myself repeatedly before making this decision. Maybe, but even if I regretted it one day, it would be better than drifting through life and lamenting in old age that I had never listened to my heart. At that time, I already had a job offer with a six – figure annual salary, but after careful consideration, I still made this choice.
On July 5th, I wrote in my diary: In the choice between the temptations of the secular world and self – actualization, I ultimately triumphed over fate.
There was no delay from the moment I made the decision to set off. I trained, bought gear, researched strategies, sent my bike to Chengdu, and met up with a companion whom I had known for a long time but had never met in person.
But as the saying goes, “Man proposes, God disposes.” The record of zero cases in Tibet for three years was broken the day before we set off. When we finally overcame all the difficulties and reached Litang at the Sichuan – Tibet border after a tough journey, the pandemic still showed no signs of abating. The fellow cyclists we met along the way also turned back or changed routes one after another. We waited in Litang for a month, staying at a Tibetan family’s home at the foot of Mount Ge’nye. Seeing no hope, my companion returned to Chongqing, and I stayed another month, going hiking in Yading and Mount Gongga. It was not until the weather turned cold that I left my bike in Litang and went back to Shanghai on my own.
As I write these words, it is less than a month until I set off again. I will recapture the mindset of that time and continue the unfinished dream.
