The rest of us throw everything we have in our hands to come to his rescue, but the thin air here at an altitude of 4000 meters makes it difficult to get the footwear moving, and luckily our poor and soaking wet friend has quickly worked himself free and is on his feet again. He's wet as a rag now, but will he change clothes and relax in the support vehicle? No way! I'll be dry again after half an hour on the bike, he assures us, and then it's just a matter of getting going so the wind can dry the clothes.

The landscape from Apollo 13

We drive on through dramatic and monumental mountain landscapes. With wet, frostbitten toes, tired from the day's motorcycling, but in high spirits and full of enthusiasm, we arrive at our accommodation, the Sarchu tent camp on a plateau at 4290 m altitude, reminiscent of the 1969 moon landing: barren, desolate, rugged and godforsaken. "It looks like the landscape from the Apollo 13 moon landing" exclaims Jan Andersen from Copenhagen, brushing the "moon dust" off his motorcycle jacket.

We rip off our helmets, settle into a chair in the last rays of sunshine and enjoy a cool Kingfisher Indian lager and a cup of masala chai, Indian spiced milk and sugar tea served all along the dusty roads of the country. And we're all dusty-eyed and wild-eyed as we talk about all the crazy views from the saddle of our Royal Enfield motorcycle. And it's no small thing: gray and black yaks leaping across the road in front of us, wild donkeys running along our wheel tracks, mountain goats with long fur and twisted horns creating traffic jams at over 4000 meters altitude and impoverished, dirty Indian farm workers who toil with hammer and chisel to create the roads in these unruly mountain landscapes and to create stones for chapati, Indian flat bread, like another - oriental - Jens Vejmand. The old Danish poet Jeppe Aakjær would probably turn in his grave at Jenle if he heard that people still live as "roadmen" in this tortured way in the 21st century. And the Himalayas can also be harsh on those who try to cross its passes.

On our way over the Rotang Pass, at an altitude of 3800 meters, a flock of bald Himalayan vultures circled dangerously close above our heads, reminding us of the dangers that can wait behind the rugged peaks and above the clouds as we rode the asphalt road that twisted like a giant python up to the sky and led us through the clouds over the pass, deep into the plateau and all the way to where we now sit and rest. The sun suddenly disappears behind a cloud and its warm rays are instantly replaced by an icy cold. We shiver before we, very early this evening, go to sleep in our tents while the mountain wind tears and tears at the guy ropes of the tents. The next day we continue towards the mountain lake Tsokar, located about 4450 meters above sea level, on a plateau by a small nomadic village of stone houses, which at first glance look abandoned. Several rivers must be crossed and mountain passes of over 5000 meters must be climbed the next day, so we must make sure we are well rested.

Turduk - a small Shangri La close to the Pakistan border.

On the final stretch of our Himalayan motorcycle journey, we glide through the Nuba Valley towards the small village of Turduk. On the way, the colors of the landscape blend together like a Rothko painting - and the formations along the river resemble sculptures in the genre of abstract art. On mountainsides, sediments in shades of gray-brown, green and ochre drift down mountainsides, occasionally interrupted by perfect, crystal-clear streams of glacial meltwater running down the mountainsides and hitting sandbanks in the rushing river in the middle of the valley, stirring up the sediment and turning the water a cement-gray color.

Above this psychedelic play of colors, the sun burns like a laser from a deep blue sky. We dismount our black iron horses in Turduk, a small Shangri Lah, and stroll along cornfields, under poplars, apricot and walnut trees. Many of the locals have blue eyes and are as fair-skinned as northern Europeans here in the area known as Baltistan, which is divided between India, Pakistan and China. And here we must turn back. We can't go any further.

A few kilometers away, the road ends at a military checkpoint on the undefined border with India's archenemy, Pakistan. We cast stolen glances towards the Karakom Mountains before saddling up on our black iron horses and riding back to our camp, past river beds, through small green oases and through an area of soft sand dunes where the brown, long-haired Bactrian camels are tethered. They are used here as transportation before motorbikes and trucks came to these remote corners of the world's largest mountain range, the Himalayas.

Food is more than just rice and curry

The long, challenging stretches and long hours in the saddle work up a God-given appetite, and luckily there's plenty of that when we sit down dusty and hungry in India's lush and green lowlands, as well as the windswept plains of the Himalayas. "Biryani, originally comes from Persia," says our local Indian guide, Shahid Rah, who was born and raised in the Kashmir Valley in northwest India. "And it's one of my favorite dishes," he continues. And it's quickly becoming one of our new favorites on this trip. This rice dish is similar to the Spanish paella, where rice, meat and spices are cooked together in a pot so that the rice has absorbed all the juice and power from the meat. At the cozy, family-run restaurant called Fat Plate, in the city of Manali in the lush southern Himalayas, Shahid orders plenty of biryani with pieces of lamb.

We are sitting in a cozy flower garden and the son is in the kitchen, the mother is from India and the father from Nepal. The parents walk around the tables and serve steaming hot and appropriately spicy biryani and shami kebabs. The latter are lamb kebabs stirred with yogurt. In the lowland town of Chandigar, we sink our teeth into the classic Indian butter chicken. We also taste sweet and creamy Malai Kofta - a dish consisting of fried vegetable balls made from potatoes and paneer, Indian cottage cheese, and swimming in a sweet, spicy, thick curry sauce sprinkled with raisins and cashews. Reddish Tandoori Chicken comes piping hot from the cylindrical tandoor, an oven that originated in Afghanistan and was integrated into Indian cuisine with the Mughals, best known for building the Taj Mahal and enriching India not only with architectural gems, but also with gastronomic ones. And in general, the menu in India is a window into the country's long and complex history, as all the many delicious dishes refer to their chapter in the history book, as well as the cookbook.

As we get further north and into the mountains, the cuisine, as well as the landscape and people, change character. At the small cozy eatery, Alchi Citchen, in the state of Ladakh, our local guide and interpreter, Chewang, introduces us to Tibetan cuisine. In Ladakhi, the local language, he orders plenty of steamed momos: a classic Tibetan dish consisting of small, delicate dumplings packed with assorted vegetables or spicy minced lamb or chicken meat and served with a spicy chutney. Momos are also eaten in Nepal and in northern India they are available in mystery kitchens everywhere. They are often eaten with your fingers and served with a bowl of tukpa, which here in the village of Alchi is a rustic noodle soup cooked with locally grown vegetables such as cabbage and potatoes.

At the Alchi Kitchen eatery, Chewang tells us that only local women work in the kitchen. And as a guest, as befits the Himalayas, you sit in a tailor's position on the floor at small, low tables and enjoy the open kitchen space. The crowning glory of Tibetan cuisine is the Tibetan fire pot, which is carried onto the table as it cooks with pine embers. A delightful aroma wafts through the courtyard, and as you eat and eat, the fire pot sits in the middle of the table and continues to boil, with more stock being added as you go. It's real Himalayan comfort food and especially good on a chilly evening under the always clear starry sky. The Tibetan butter tea, made with pink Himalayan salt and yak butter, is also a must-try, but only the greatest of gastronomic adventurers like it. And it looks like the sheep have been separated from the goats on this one too!

Fact box

Hotels. Along the way you can stay in cozy hotels, tent camps or old royal palaces in places like the city of Naggar.

Best time to travel. The road from Manali to Leh with its many high mountain passes is only open from mid-June to early October.

Equipment. It's a good idea to bring rainwear, warm clothing such as a fleece jacket, long pants, warm socks, etc. as it can get very cold in the mountains at night. There can also be hot, sunny days where the temp. can get above 30 degrees Celsius. The mountains have their own microclimate, so it is very difficult to predict the weather. As a motorcyclist, you should bring motorcycle safety equipment such as boots, motorcycle pants, gloves, back shield, full-face helmet etc. from home.

Safety. Don't ride a motorcycle alone in the upper Himalayas. There is no phone coverage or internet access for long stretches of the route.

Food. For a taste of exciting Indian cuisine, dine at Fate Plate Cafe in Manali in the state of Himachal Pradeh, Alchi Kitchen in Alchi, Ladakh and Tibetan Kitchen on Fort Road in Leh, Ladakh.

How to avoid altitude sickness in the Himalayas. Make sure you acclimatize. Do this by climbing slowly and drinking plenty of fluids. If you are a smoker, avoid tobacco. The medication Diamox prevents altitude sickness and should be taken daily for a few days in a row before you start traveling at altitude.