Gloves lost in Ladhakh's sands

With my feet and Bullet deep in the sand on the highway, I looked around and saw the gloves I'd taken out - some three feet away. I tried to lift the beast but I was at an unearthly altitude where lungs crave for oxygen. I wasn't exerting myself but I was breathing hard. I took 10 huffs, lifted the Bull and saw the side stand hanging by its spring and the foot rest bent upwards towards the gear. It took me 10 minutes and immense concentration to tie the side stand with some twine. Your body stops to function normally - your fingers don't move, your brain slows down. Dusting off the flour-like yellow sand of Ladhakh's desert, I looked at the gloves again. It had been 45 minutes since I saw any part of a living (except some shrubs) thing - an animal's hoof and in 40 miles I'd have to go up Tanglang La, the second highest pass in the world. In the distance on either side are Ladhakh's majestic mountains reaching for the skies and capsuling its cold desert. I saw the sand I had slipped into and then I saw the highway a few feet after. I looked at my face in the mirror - I had sand-blond eye-lashes and mustache - I smiled. I kick started the Bull, it needed the oxygen but it roared. I looked at the gloves again -melted into the sand. I couldn't stretch or drive the three feet to pick it up. It'd be very cold but I had to let it go. This is a small example of the many insignificantly significant decisions you'll make on a ride to Ladhakh.