Grit, Gear & the Great Himalayan

My First Ultra at The Great Himalayan 2024 by Delton Dsouza

What happens when your first ultra race is not just any ultra, but The Great Himalayan. A 444 km beast with over 8000m of climbing across some of the highest roads on Earth?

You suffer. You soar. You surprise yourself.

And somewhere in between, you fall madly in love with the madness.

We kicked things off strong—me and my ride partner, Abee—flying down the early kilometres like we’d been built for it. The wind in our faces, the Leh landscapes rolling by, and the spirits were high. But we knew this wouldn't last. When you start with a downhill, the only way left is up.

And up it went. The sun rose higher, the headwinds howled louder, and by the time we began the Lamayuru climb, the heat was unforgiving. Lunch at CP1 gave us a moment to breathe, but the second half of the day turned into a desert of suffering. Every pedal stroke felt like pushing through soup.

But then the sun dipped behind those jagged peaks, and something shifted.

The temperature dropped. The roads grew quieter. With headlights on, we pushed through the darkness—legs burning, minds focused—until we reached CP2 in Kargil, just 10 minutes before cutoff. That day had taken everything from us: 222 kms, nearly 4000m of climbing, and two mountain passes in one brutal ride.

We looked at each other. We were toast.

Sleep was supposed to be the end of this story. Our bodies were battered, and the plan was to call it. But then came the nudges - first from Divya, our ever-optimistic race director, then from my wife. “Just sleep on it. See how you feel in the morning.”

By sunrise, over shared coffee in my room, Abee and I looked at each other and knew: We ride. We finish. No matter what.

Stage 2 was tougher. Straight out of Kargil, we hit a 50 km climb up to Namikla Pass. No warm-up, no mercy. And just as we descended, we were met by Fotula—20 more kilometres of grinding uphill. Still, we rode. No expectations, no timing goals—just a promise to finish what we started.

Dinner break at Saspul, and then came the final stretch: the monstrous climbs of Pathar Sahib and Leh. All in the dark. But here’s the thing about riding at night—you can't see how much is left, so you stop worrying about it. You just… ride.

Biswadeep joined us, and suddenly it wasn’t just survival—it was joy. Three bikes, three friends, laughter in the dark, legs screaming but spirits strangely light.

At 3.5 km to go, Biswadeep peeled off to finish his 600 km category (legend). Abee and I? We crawled—yes, literally crawled—up the final climb to the finish line.

Waiting there under the stars were Vibhav, Aru, and the amazing race crew. Hugs. High-fives. The kind of smiles you only earn.

Out of 16 riders across categories, only 5 of us crossed that finish line.

And only 3 in our category made it. Abee. Myself. And every aching muscle in our bodies.

But we didn’t just leave with medals. We left with stories, grit, perspective—and a newfound addiction to ultras.

This was my first ultra.

It won’t be my last.

The Great Himalayan 444 km, 8000+ m elevation gain, done and dusted.

Bring on the next one.