It is cold and wet. I cruise down through puddles and potholes and into the clouds. The moisture from the clouds beads up on my clothes and fogs my glasses. At times the edge of the road disappears in the clouds. Suddenly I'm back in Marhi just as a bus arrives.
People stare at the strangely dressed sahib.
I might as well have landed from another planet. An Israeli tourist walks over, takes my picture, and asks if I'm a professional rider. Back on the road, I drop down to 10,000' through the clouds. Drop down to 8,000' and start to pass through some small villages. The road is paved now, but has large potholes.