I look at the watch in my cellphone. It is just slightly past 7 PM. The sun is setting down and the skies are red with evening twilight. Karzok is merely 40 kms away, as I am being told by the locals, and if we hurried, we will comfortably make it there before it gets dark. I look at my watch again and then the skies. It is going to be a dark night, with no moon in the sky. As dark as the last night was. It was going to be pitch black. I am in doubt, I am hesitant but there is no other choice. It is not the fear of riding in the dark but the fatigue that has taken control of all of us. We are tired, nearly exhausted and none of us wants to continue riding further. But there is no choice. Either ride or stay here and spend the night in a nearly shattered room with no glass on windows, dirty mattresses & blankets and with a strong stinking smell. I look at my watch again. "How is the road?" I inquire of the locals. "As good as it is here" They tell me. I look at the road, fresh black tarmac. Riding 40 kms on this should not be a problem. I look at Sunny and Shoaib with inquiring eyes but they just shrug their shoulders. The answer was clear, "Whatever you decide" I ask Rohit and he immediately says no, for he does not want to risk riding in the dark. But there is no other choice. I kick start my Royal Enfield. She roars back to life but tells me nothing about her rear tyre that already has a nail piercing through it. She keeps silent about the air that is slowly escaping through the punctured tube. And so we ride again, the last 40 kms of the day, to Karzok. To the banks of Tso Moriri. Little do we know that these last 40 kms are going to take us nearly 6 hrs to cover and that all of us are about to risk spending the night on the road. That we are about to risk getting lost, in the middle of nowhere, on a dark night.