Tibet has a way of simplifying things. There’s nowhere to hide from the altitude, the weather, or your own limits. That’s exactly why we chose it.

We brought a small group of riders from the U.S. — strong cyclists who wanted something real. The goal was simple: ride across one of the world’s highest landscapes, test our 30/30 CeramicSpeed Superlight Climb wheels, and see how both humans and hardware hold up when oxygen runs thin.

Here's a rundown of our Tibetan travels.

Day 1 — Milin to Gyaca: The warm-up

We rolled out along the Yarlung Tsangpo River under a bright sky. The first 100 kilometers were meant to “ease in,” but altitude doesn’t ease anything. The air thins quickly here, and even steady pedaling feels like work. Riders learned fast to respect their pace. The scenery was classic Tibet — wide valley, dusty tarmac, quiet villages, the river always just in view. The 30/30s were warming up to the challenges ahead.

By the time we hit Gyaca, the group had found its rhythm. Hydration, layering, and breathing — the basics mattered more than watts or speed.

Day 2 — Sangri to Samye: Switchbacks and settling in

A short bus transfer took us to the start. The climb to Samye Monastery isn’t long, but it’s a good test of mindset — hairpins stacked one after another, gradients hovering around six percent. 

At the top, Samye appeared like a mirage — gold roofs against dry hills. The descent was clean and fast. The CeramicSpeed bearings kept the spin silent, a small but satisfying detail when all you can hear is wind.

Day 3 — Yamdrok Lake: The first big climb

This was the first of three major climbs. The gradient held steady between five and seven percent, topping out around 4,800 meters. The weather changed every half hour — sunshine, sleet, fog, repeat. Yamdrok Lake revealed itself suddenly near the summit: unreal turquoise water surrounded by snow lines.

Performance mattered here. Long sustained efforts at altitude are where equipment either disappears beneath you or becomes a distraction. The 30/30s stayed responsive, especially in crosswinds that can push lighter wheels around. We spent a while at the summit — partly to recover, partly because you don’t rush a view like that.

Day 4 — Gyantse to Shigatse: Recovery with a view

Ninety kilometers downhill sounds easy until you’re braking for two hours straight. It was a good test of heat management — both for riders and rims. The carbon held up perfectly, no fade, no pulsing. This was also when the group started to look less like individuals and more like a team, rotating pulls, sharing snacks, checking on each other’s altitude symptoms. By Shigatse, legs felt better and spirits were high.

Day 5 — Gyatso La Pass: The high point

Literally. At 5,260 meters, Gyatso La is the highest paved road in the world. The climb is short but demanding — thin air, unpredictable gusts, fast-changing weather. We started before sunrise in freezing temperatures. Halfway up, clouds rolled in and visibility dropped to 20 meters.

It was exactly the kind of environment that exposes weaknesses in both rider and equipment. Everyone made it to the top. No heroics, just steady work. We took a group photo at the pass sign, everyone layered up and grinning through exhaustion.

Day 6 — Gyawula Pass to Everest: The descent

This is the ride everyone remembers — 108 switchbacks dropping toward the Everest region. It’s one of those roads that looks like it can’t possibly exist. The descent demanded focus: tight corners, loose gravel, trucks appearing out of nowhere.

We rode unsupported toward base camp. The moment Everest came into view, the group went quiet. No speeches, no drones — just a few deep breaths and the sound of hubs ticking. 

Day 7 — Shigatse stopover

Another recovery day, spinning back down to Shigatse. After the previous days, 60-plus kilometers felt like an easy day in the saddle. The conversations turned to noodle choices, highlights of the trip so far, and who’d come back next year.

Day 8 — Lhasa Bonus Ride

For the few still chasing vertical, we added an out-and-back to a small monastery above the city. The climb was steady and peaceful — a quiet way to close out the trip before packing bikes for the flight home.

What We Learned

Trips like this give us data no lab can replicate. The 30/30 CeramicSpeed Superlight Climb wheels handled everything we threw at them — climbing efficiency, stability on descents, and durability on rough pavement. Just as important, they reminded us that gear only matters when it disappears beneath you and lets the ride take over.

Tibet doesn’t care about marketing lines. It rewards preparation, patience, and real performance. That’s the kind of environment where No.6 belongs — where every claim can be proven by the road itself.

Ken