The Yak Attack is a 10-day stage race in Nepal that cuts across the Himalaya Mountains.
Racers band together to overcome altitude and bad crashes at Nepal’s Yak Attack stage race.
By Sonya Looney
It still feels like a dream. Last week, I stood atop a 17,769-foot pass under a brilliant blue sky, strings of prayer flags flapping in the wind, several feet of snow under my feet, and a cup of Nepali tea in hand. I shared the moment with several racers—we were all competing in the Yak Attack, a 10-day stage race across Nepal.
This pass, Thorong La, was the highpoint of stage nine, and to reach it we had hiked for three-hours. The deep snow made riding impossible and we would have to shoulder our bikes for the long descent. Thor and I made the most of the situation, cracking jokes as we trudged downhill, talking of beer and laughing in the sun.
This was my second time competing in the Yak Attack, and though the snows were deeper on the high-mountain stages this year, and much of Stage 8 and 9 were not rideable, they seemed less challenging. Last year, I had a splitting headache and experienced several moments during which I doubted that I could finish. But I learned valuable lessons and this year I was hydrated, healthier and better acclimated, so I suffered less from altitude.
Plus, I was surrounded by remarkable people—some of the most amazing individuals I have ever met. Several of the 30 racers showed incredible grit and determination to finish; others displayed humility and selflessness that we rarely see today. Including the time before and after the race, we ended up spending three weeks together, and by the end, our bonds had become unshakable.
My friend Neil Cottam crashed and dislocated his shoulder early on Stage 7. He popped it back in himself, despite the pain. Most of us figured he’d abandon the race, but then I saw him walk out of a café near the end of the stage later that night. Though he couldn’t ride, Neil had walked the entire route. “You think I’d let you guys have all the fun without me?” he asked with a laugh. Neil then hiked the remaining three days, and was at the top of Thorong La Pass on Stage 9, using his good arm to hand out cups of tea to cold and thirsty racers.
Neil was just one of many riders who overcame injury and challenges. One racer from Australia crashed on the final stage, breaking his nose, bruising his ribs and badly cutting his face. As the remaining racers attended to Pete, we agreed to neutralize the stage. As he lay bloody and broken on the ground, he didn’t whimper or complain. All he said was, “Can I keep riding?”
Sharing the experience with other racers make the Yak Attack one of the most memorable trips of my life.
Each day, we waited for everyone to finish and celebrated our daily triumphs together. We happily shared spare parts and medicine. At dinner, we passed food down to other racers, no matter how hungry we were. I’ve never been to a race where every rider displayed so much generosity, friendship and love toward the other competitors. Despite being 10,000 miles from home, and facing numerous challenges each day, I never felt alone.
The Yak Attack was a brutally difficult race across the Himalaya, but it was a remarkable experience that I shared with amazing people. It was the best trip of my life.