Oopnarth, Day 3 - the Lake District

We bid farewell to Martin and Danny this morning as they head back home. Long journeys south and west for these guys. Danny's going to try the dreaded M6, while Martin will use the M56.

Our coffee stop this morning is Devil's Bridge. A popular stop off point for bikers and I enjoy a few minutes chatting to other riders about bikes and places. The bridge itself offers tempting drops into the clear water below, but local bylaws prohibit such antisocial behaviour - but that doesn't stop those brave few that do it. I'd love to join them. Alas, that's for another day.

Ray and Mick split off from the group just after we leave the Devil's Bridge and we perform our usual man hugs saying goodbye. They join the M6 southbound, onto Wales and thence to Ireland by ferry. We later hear their jaunt and detour through North Wales almost made them miss the ferry.
A last minute indication by Steve to turn-off for a fuel stop sees me quickly dart through a gap from the fast lane, while Mark misses the entrance and has to back into the forecourt. Steve apologises profusely and his guilt buys our fuel.

Into the Lake District and quickly onto the Hawkshead ferry, being directed to bypass the queuing cars, we're soon afloat. Pictures and a quick Facebook post and before you know it we're off at the other side. This really is a beautiful place, made all the more beautiful by the perfect weather and first shades of autumnal colours.

We head to the Wrynose and Hardknot passes and, after clearing the traffic restricted roadworks, take no prisoners as we make progress along the winding roads. Soon we in the heart of the hills and the scenery is spectacular: why have I not been here before?

Entering the pass approach, we see signs warning of steep slopes and sharp turns; this only encourages people like us. In the distance you can see the road snaking up the hill through the greenery. Steve points out the dark Herdwick sheep, which produce special wool for thick, warm woollen clothing.

We climb through Wrynose at 25% which is challenging, but this becomes 30% for the Hardknott. No problem for us seasoned enduro riders: Steve, Mark and myself. We relish the opportunity to test our skills. The views become even more wondrous at the top with views looking into both valleys. From here it's all downhill, we've reached the pinnacle of our viewing pleasure. But what views. This is the site of our Road Kill photo.

Winding our way down we come across a broken down Rover P6 V8 on a corner and we stop to ask if we can help. The driver thanks us for stopping but thinks the engine's head gasket has blown, yet happily informs us that the man from the AA is on his way. From the car's position, I think the man from the AA will not reciprocate his happiness.

Lunch is at the Woolpack Inn. I enjoy some very tasty trout on flat bread, which Steve says he did not enjoy on a previous visit. He's still not impressed by the flat bread, but the filling is good.

Onwards and we end up in Gisburn Forest after a quick blast along some bigger A-roads. There's no forest, but at the highest point the moors stretch in all directions. We stop for a rest and to catch up on some phone calls. When leaving, Steve decides to test himself and his bike on a small knoll; the knoll wins. But despite all our enduro trip training, neither Mark nor myself rush for our cameras to capture the moment. Instead, our nurturing instinct urges us to help him up. Shame on us! Sorry readers, we'll try harder next time!

And then, we're home. An end to our quick weekend tour. It's been a great three days, all down to our super host Steve, who's planned and led the whole thing. He's really the best tour guide ever.

Tomorrow will be a long day. Ride to Nottingham, see Duff Man, ride to London, meet up with Mrs Biker Dom and another biker buddy, then onto Eurotunnel (via a tyre fitter if possible) and Brussels by the evening. The following day I have a red-eye flight to Geneva. Ouch, Biker Dom is always on the go!

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Oopnarth, day 2

Barnoldswick used to be in Yorkshire, but due to boundary changes it's now in Lancashire. Not a popular move with the locals, so much so that the "Welcome to Yorkshire" signs outside the town are still where they always were. In years gone by this could have meant war.

Leaving Barlick and the chilly, early morning fog, we head east (further) into Yorkshire, by ascending a local hill. Steve leads, following his satnav, using a route he has planned. He develops such routes regularly for his Harley chapter and is notorious for challenging riders who are not used to corners; carnage often ensues. He's ridden this route a few times and is confidently sweeping through the bends with gusto. Much more than I, so on the occasions when I'm following him (we're using the corner man method for marking junctions), it takes most of my concentration to keep up with him.

Once higher up, we emerge into the clear sky and once more it's a lovely day. The hills are adorned with whirling wind turbines, but they're rotating more slowly than yesterday.

We stop at a spot overlooking a reservoir for a photo op and the first of many bladder evacuations. The grass beyond the parking area is littered with bottles and other trash. This always makes me angry that people visit and enjoy such beautiful vistas and then don't feel anything dumping their garbage there.

Shortly after we cross a cattle grid and meet a herd of highland cattle. With its hillside ferns and long grass, this area already reminds me of Scotland, but the addition of the cattle cements that impression in my mind. The cows are cute and in dire need of a haircut - these are the rock stars of the bovine world.

Morning coffee is in Todmorden, near Halifax, a charming little town from what I can tell. This part of the world is not holding to the 'grimy North' stereotype I was expecting.

Shortly after we stop for lunch at the White House, Blackstone Edge, a hostelry near the top of a pass through the hill. The road outside reverberates with the sound of motorcycle exhausts at full chat; a symphony to the ears of mechanical music fans. Booming V-twins and screaming fours vie for the best noise.

At various points during the day we've negotiated sharp bends on hills. These are not the typical environment for cruiser bikes, but Alan, riding Steve's supertanker disguised as a motorbike Harley Road King, is riding like a trooper and coping really well with the sharp turns. Harleys are not supposed to go round corners, but nobody told Alan!

It's still great biking weather and when we stop for petrol mind ourselves sweating in the heat. Marks struggles to pump his tyres and after several attempts the attendant has to "reboot" the pump electronics. It's seems to work, and just as well because Mark's tyres are woefully under inflated. No excuse for poor riding now! ;-)

It's a short ride back to Steve's place and we park up the bikes. Steve offers to take me on his Harley, so I gear up and get ready to roll. I've never ridden a Harley before, but it's not as bad as I've been led to believe and is very comfortable to ride. It also has a very loud exhaust and I wished I'd put earplugs in; afterwards my ears are still ringing.

Dinner (or is it tea or perhaps supper?), is a tapas assortment, followed by BBQ chocolate. Once again the hard bikers are proving they're more sophisticated than the average hairy-arsed biker.

Riding these roads has shown me that you don't need to go to exotic places to enjoy good biking or to see fantastic scenery, it's available within the grand shores of the UK. Going to exotic places, however, does get you to experience different cultures and despite what I might have thought, Oopnarth is not so different to dahn south. Travel broadens the mind like nothing else - do it as much as you can.

No roses were harmed in the making of this blog.

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Oopnarth, Day 1

The day's riding starts with a hearty breakfast and then Alan Alan and Graham join us. Alan, particularly looks the part, riding Steve's lumbering Harley with his racing leathers complete with knee sliders (his own bike, a 954 Blade, has a fuel pump issue). Filling up at the petrol station and I try out some of the local lingo on the attendant; turns out she's from Poland, so it's a wasted effort. Still, made me feel like I was trying.... a bit like my efforts with French!

Leaving Barnoldswick (the locals shorten it to Barlick) and we head towards Grassington. Our tour guide for the weekend is Steve and he seems to know all the small roads in the area. After a warm-up ride, we stop at Billy Bob's Ice Cream Parlour for coffee and to play on the climbing frames and swings. The scenery in the background hints at the beauty we'll see later.

Setting off again and I realise Mick is wearing a flouro yellow helmet.... What is this, another Bikerdom? Feels kinda surreal following myself, but I soon realise I'm not having an out of body experience. My current helmet is rather muted compared to my bike/jacket orange combo. Orange is so me, just need to find a matching helmet.

The small single track roads become strewn with gravel and apparently such is the skill required to negotiate them that Graham starts standing on his pegs. Probably more to stretch his legs than anything.

In Grassington there's a event taking place, with people dressed up in period military costumes. For once, our group of noisy bikers is not the centre of attention. The costumes are impressive and my favourite is woman in forties gear riding a bike with her small dog in the basket.

Lunch is at the Wensleydale Creamery, almost famed for being Wallace and Gommit's favourite place, but for legal reasons they can't say so. There's permanent cheese tasting available, which is a good starter before lunch. Lunch specials are Ham this and ham that, bacon this and bacon that. I completely miss the regular menu that includes plenty I could eat, but instead settle for a cheese and tomato sarnie.

The roads are filled with lycra clad cyclists, puffing and wheezing their way up the hills that we just breeze up with the flick of a wrist. I admire their perseverance and think when I'm old and grey.... ok, older and greyer.... and have to hang up my helmet, I'd like to do more cycling.

We branch off a minor road onto an even more minor road and have to stop to remove a tree branch blocking our route. Shortly after, we meet a large group of cyclists coming towards us, and I'm sure they won't thank us for clearing their path. We reach Britain's highest inn atop Tan Hill.

Our route is peppered with steep gradients, 16%, 18% and 20% and a few hairpin curves. Not in the same league as the Alps, but good riding. We ride across the dales sweeping oop and dahn admiring the magnificent vistas.

After we get back, we have a ruby murray for dinner and then we finish our wild evening in Steve's parlour.... drinking tea and checking our smart phones. We're hard bikers.

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Oopnarth, Day 0 - Getting There

To reach Oopnarth requires a transit via London. I start out from Brussels and within an hour I'm shuffling uncomfortably on my bikes saddle; the F800ST has an awful saddle that makes long trips torture. Petrol stops are a welcome relief, but unfortunately the BMW uses fuel so miserly these are all too infrequent.

Rain had been forecast for midday, and on disembarking from Eurotunnel, I find myself emerging into torrential rain. Puddles are sizable and cars and lorries throw up huge plumes of spray as they crash through them. Despite the conditions, the bike feels stable and not really affected by the surface water - the Michelin Pilot Road 4 tyres are doing their thing, effectively clearing a path. Cars are tiptoeing through the conditions and I find myself king of the fast lane for once. Luckily I prepared for the rain with my waterproofs, so I plough on dry and unaffected.

The rain clears by the time I reach London, but the still wet road generates a dirty film on my visor that I have to clear periodically. I'm no longer king of the fast lane and Audi man clings to my bumper with all the bravado four wheels can bring; I pull over at the first opportunity.

London M40, M42 Birmingham and then the M6 skirting Manchester. The bloody M6! Miles and miles of roadworks. Never, ever, have I encountered such extensive roadworks, tailbacks and stop start mile after mile - it's agony. Normally bikes can filter through such jams, but much of these roadworks are narrow lanes which makes filtering impossible, really difficult, or car horn inducing. It's made worse by my worn tyres; there's plenty of tread on them, but they've worn in such a way that it accentuates the tramlining effect and I find myself weaving erratically over the cats-eyes and overbanding.

The M65 eventually allows me to escape from the M6. This is more like it, as I burn off the cobwebs on the final leg into Oopnarth.

And then, 763km later, I am truly 'Oopnarth'. Steve says he's never seen me looking so knackered getting off a bike. And yes, they do speak funny. Aye-yah!

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Oopnarth, preparations - Biker Dom's biggest challenge yet?

Tomorrow Biker Dom will head off for what could be his biggest challenge yet: a trip to the fabled land of Oopnarth. Famed for its beautiful vistas, but wild and unpredictable local inhabitants, it's a land of lakes, hills, and inclement weather.

The roads should be mostly OK, but like in most of the exotic places Biker Dom has travelled to, the rules of the road are mostly made up, even if they are written down.  The big towns should have reliable electricity and infrastructure, but in the smaller outlying villages, where much of the region's charm lies, modern civilisation has barely had a chance to take hold.  However, the local people are known to be mostly friendly and welcoming, but communicating with them may prove tricky, as efforts to bring education to the masses has proved challenging with English only spoken in a few places.

Mobile phone coverage will also be patchy so Biker Dom's blog updates may be sporadic.  I'll do my best.

I'm looking forward to meeting up with a few of my biker buddies again as we take on this new challenge - bring it on!

Nepal, confirmation of the route we took

Gerard has helpfully produced a map of the actual route we took, based upon GPS fixes obtained while there.  He's a clever chap.

The Nepal route as ridden

Nepal, Day 13 - the last day, back to Kathmandu (75km)

The morning after the night before, breakfast is a relaxed affair as we don't have to vacate the indoor campsite until 10am. Luckily we can leave the tents up.

Back down the rocky road and some find it more difficult going down than up. I prefer going down; I like a bit of rough. The mud is still there, despite the rain ending last night; the track is slippery when wet.

Then follows a very enjoyable tarmac road going up, down and around the mountainside. It's relatively cool heading up, but by the time we start coming down, we're eagerly seeking the shade when we stop for chai. Kathmandu is only about 20km away, but we have to negotiate the ring road to reach our hotel, adding about 5km to that.

The road into Kathmandu is not potholed any more than European roads, perhaps even better than some. However, what it lacks in holes it makes up for in bulges and ridges, which are in some ways worse, as they're not as visible. They're created by the heavy trucks and buses and there seem to be more of them on corners, which makes cornering safely more difficult.

There's a protest going on in Kathmandu, so the local people are being cautious about entering the city. As we approach it, we see many trucks parked up at the roadside and further on we're stopped by the police. We're apprehensive that they won't allow us through, they've seen the Indian plates on our bikes and want to make sure we are not agitators. Satisfied that we are not, they let us through; hopefully, our luggage truck following us, will do the same later and we won't be sleeping in our riding gear tonight.

Shortly after, we hit a big jam on the main road. We thread our way through it, squeezing through gaps and riding up the inside of trucks next to the pedestrians, all the while looking out for people jumping out from behind the tall vehicles.

Once clear of the jam, the road is empty of cars. However, that means the road is awash with speeding motorbikes, suicidal scooters, death wish bicycles, sleepwalking pedestrians and... cows. Ring roads are usually city arteries; think A406 North Circular or the Brussels Ring. Now imagine cows wandering along the carriageways, sat in the middle of the road sleeping or watching unperturbed as the world go by. It's unimaginable, but here it's normality. The cows somehow are just avoided. As cows are venerated in Nepal, people take care not to harm them.

We arrive at the hotel safe and sound, tooting our horns noisily as we enter the courtyard with the old security guard saluting us like the old soldier he is. Handshakes and man-hugs all round and we pose for a final group photo. The tour is over and we're all in one piece. Result!

My speedo says, we've covered 1400km which doesn't sound like much, but on the roads we travelled, it's quite an achievement. We've seen great scenery, challenged ourselves on tough roads, on bikes not really designed for such conditions, and had a great laugh with mates old and new.

Once again this eclectic mix of directors, accountants, CEOs, managers, property developers, and a grey bureaucrat, prove that you're never too sensible to have a good time!

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Nepal, Day 12 - Bandipur to Makwanpur, Part 2: you are going in the wrong direction!

Rod Stewart's Maggie May. Winner! Last song and we're off again.

We turn off the main highway, but then stop, regroup and head back the way we came. I remind you, this is a 'recce'. We cross the main highway and head north, this time assured we're on track, by Gerard's lady talking in his ear, and my prehistoric BlackBerry running Google Maps over a data connection (bless you, little BlackBerry 9720; you may be old, but you still get things done quietly and efficiently).

We start climbing away from the plains, eventually finding ourselves in another valley following a river. Crossing a bridge and at the next junction we are faced with a left or right decision. Google Maps and Gerard's lady both say turn right, 42km to go. While the maps suggests the alternative, to turn left, takes a longer 68km on twisty roads over the mountain, which I suspect may be more tricky. We turn left.

Immediately we're climbing, only this time steeper and with more turns. But the tarmac is good and so the going is swift. Gerard says his lady keeps telling him he's "going in the wrong direction". With the sharp upward zig-zagging she often confuses which part of the road we're on. But we know where we're going, gravity is our compass. We continue climbing, through the trees and at one point I stop to operate the motorcycle steering/throttle/brake control unit's liquid by-product release valve. Most of the riders pass me.

Back on the road, suitably relieved, I catch up with the others, who one by one stop to operate their own valves. I find myself behind Alex and Vidhya again who as always impress me with the smooth flowing lines through the bends and occasional muddy/rocky patch; riding two-up, uphill, doesn't seem to slow Alex. We're now starting to reach the few low clouds hugging the mountain contours and I stop to take a few pictures.

Shortly afterwards, we stop for chai. We've reached over 2000m on our steep climb, but it's been wonderful riding; we could almost be in the Alps. As usual we attract local eyes and the audience includes many cute kids. And as usual these attract the attention of our camera lenses. Many photos ensue, fueled by the exchange of lollies and bouncing rubber balls - sadly, behaviour that in the developed world, although totally innocent, would attract the attention of child protection agencies. Things are less intense here, or maybe it's just that we're in the full gaze of so many others. Community protection at it's best.

Before setting off again, we put on our wet weather gear again as it's started drizzling. Whenever we do this, suddenly I'm with a whole bunch of new riders as their colour schemes are completely different and so the visual familiarity I've build up over the last few weeks is useless.

We keep climbing, reaching 2500m, and at the top of the mountain pass, there's a small village of shops and services. And now it's down and the road doesn't seem so well made on this side, there's gravel on the corners so I'm taking it easy. At some point I'm aware of a faster rider behind me; I'm guessing it's Chris Goonan, the Aussie. He's a great rider and faster than I, but he's patient and doesn't overtake.

The rain gets heavier as we near the bottom and those cheap waterproofs I bought in Pokara (because I'd mistakenly thought I'd lost my Gore-tex liner), turn out to me made of paper. The rain is seeping into my trousers and I feel its cold fingers working their way into my intimate areas; cold fingers there are never welcome. I'm soaked again. Oh well, we're nearly at our destination.

On the flat and only a few clicks to go. The rain makes visibility difficult and at one narrow point an oncoming lorry swerves to avoid a concrete block and forces me off the road. Normally, I'm used to that, moving onto the gravel area next to the tarmac. Only this time there is no gravel area next to the tarmac, only narrow strip bordering a drop into the a field below.  I breath in, mentally compress the handlebars, and just squeeze through.  Jeez, that was close. Chris sees the show and the concrete block that I missed.

The last few km to the hotel are up a recently made rocky road. Although moderately flat, the rocks are jagged, bumpy and wet, it's a real challenge. And then the last stretch is muddy. So we're all very relieved to finish the day.

The hotel, the Adhyay Retreat is a lovely looking building set overlooking neat fields. However, to reach it from where we've parked the bikes, we have to cross a temporary bridge made with two RSJs covered in bags of concrete.... right.... bodes well.

Inside, the unfinished theme continues and only a few of us get rooms, and only a few of those have en-suite toilets. The rest have tents! Pitched in the central lobby area!... Mark claims a tent, much to the worry of Mick with whom he normally shares a room; he knows that once the chainsaw gets going, nobody is going to sleep!

A party atmosphere ensues with drinks and laughter flowing freely (one exception is a very grumpy complaint about warm beer by someone who shall remain nameless). That continues after dinner with very much a house party atmosphere. We're the only guests and we make the place our own. Alex's amazing Bose docking station booms out the tunes with people taking it in turns to feed their playlists into it. The party spills outside as a campfire is lit and we sit around and chat late into the night as the flames send fiery embers skywards.

We're not starting until 10am tomorrow, so we can have a relaxed morning. It's the last day of riding tomorrow, and we only have about 65km of tarmac to bash before reaching Kathmandu.

.....the chainsaw strikes at about 2am. It reverberates throughout the hotel......

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Nepal, Day 12 - Bandipur to Makwanpur (165km), part 1

Today's Spirit is Aussie Alan, or as he's been nicknamed the "Yeti". Yesterday he lifted many of the bikes that had fallen into ditches and pushed those that needed help up slopes. Neil is the Dick for dumping his bike on the ground when startled by two bullocks; apparently. And Graham is Skidmark, as mentioned in yesterday's blog, he dumped his bike upside down.

We start out again on that wonderful tarmac, as we wind our way back down the mountain. We join the main road and follow the river in the valley that we saw from up high, but although on tarmac, even that is eventful as Mick has a wobbly moment during a muddy interlude, as his back end steps out (yes we saw it Mick!)

A few drops of rain fall and as the sky looks ominous, we pull over to don our wetsuits just before it pours; but it only does so for a few minutes and then the sun comes out. It's enough to re-energise the dusty areas into muddy skidpans and refill potholes with water. An oncoming lorry splashes through a deep puddle and Marks rides straight into the resulting huge wave of muddy water, getting a face full of it - I'm following him and can't help laughing out loud in my helmet.

We stop for chai and see some strange animals: an alien looking Siamese cat and a pink chicken!

Later as we leave the valley and head back into the flat Chitwan area we see some elephants plodding along the road driven by their mahouts. I feel sorry for the elephants who look weary and they're being poked behind the ears to make them move. They have large chain collars to keep them in check.

There follows a fast stretch of tarmac and we can stretch the bikes' legs. The twin-spark 500cc Bullet will, at a push, do 120+kph, but you wouldn't want to be there long. 100kph is a comfortable maximum cruising speed. Something to note for a possible future adventure. By comparison, the BMW 1200GS LC can hit 220kph and probably cruise comfortably at 190kph or more (on the German autobahn, your honour).

We see assorted bikes with various passenger loads up to four, engine bars used as convenient bag hooks and a moped carrying a ladder. Good to see two-wheeled transport being put to good use.

The lunch stop turns out not to have much food, so we make do with snacks and drinks. We chat and I learn that Alex has given Glenn the nickname, "Turbine" as he whines constantly; I wonder what he calls me, I dread to think. Before we leave the stop, Graham uses his iPhone to host a game of 'name that tune', which proves popular.... 

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Nepal, Day 11 - Pokara to Bandipur (150km), the "unfeasible" road

Alex says we're camping tonight; I quite like camping. We didn't have water for a shower this morning, so it already felt like we were camping anyway. Our hotel was outwardly very nice, but had a few problems, which spoiled the experience. Added to lack of water, problems with the laundry, bar bills, and other items on the room bills, not to mention the slow wifi, and I suspect Alex won't be using this hotel again.

The bikes have been cleaned and routine maintenance performed; they're ready to roll. The air becomes cooler as we ascend through the trees winding our way back up into the hills. The road is tarmac, but bumpy and I can feel my breakfast being shaken about in my stomach. No matter how good the fried egg on toast was, it makes the ride a bit uncomfortable.  The riding is none the less enjoyable as we overtake trucks and buses. Then it becomes hot again.

We stop for chai and then turn left off the main road. Asking a local if this is the right road for Bandipur, he says it is, but it's "unfeasible" for us. Always ready to make the infeasible feasible, we set off with every intention to succeed. Surprisingly Google on my little BlackBerry disagrees with the local and plots us a course through the mountains, but a section looks suspiciously straight which suggests there's no road there. Time will tell.

It's a road to a famous temple, so the first section is good smooth tarmac, which eventually degrades, then eventually turns rocky, then eventually turns to flat mud. Very flat, like freshly laid tarmac, except it's mud, and where it's wet or damp is a little slippery. I'm following big Mick at this point and he impresses with his riding, as always, slow and steady, but good lines. Further on we see the source of the flat road: a digger and roller are working away together to remake the road. We have to wait while a dumper truck is loaded with mud and rocks from a landslide and we're off again.

In the hills and in the trees, and unlike us, the cicadas are enjoying the heat and twizzing away making noise. Not Cambodia deafening loud, but loud enough. No, it's us making most of the noise as the straight through exhaust fitted to some of the Bullets rat-a-tat-tats like a big machine gun when at full throttle doing uphill.  At low engine speeds the sound is reminiscent of the Huey helicopters heard in countless Vietnam war films and it echoes through the foliage.

The going gets tougher and we encounter some very loose rocky and gravelly uphill sections. Most of us falter here and those who've made it to the top, walk down and are helping to guide and give additional pushes to those behind. It's energy sapping. Biker Dom is a casualty, tipping his bike and breaking a mirror. And Graham somehow managed to get his bike upside down at one point! Full marks for artistic merit. Aussie Alan, the man mountain, is lifting bikes out of ruts and pushing them up - nominee for Spirit tomorrow morning? 

Later, I manage to lock the front wheel in gravel (what was it I said about being careful with the front brake?) just before a water channel crossing the road, taking the bike down and ending up doing a 180, and facing the way I came. After riding so well this week, these two incidents cut me down to size again. And my exhaust is now hanging on by a bit of wire, not good.

For the tough sections, momentum is your best friend. Keep the engine low to medium revved and movement in your wheels and you'll usually get over or through an obstacle. Lose either of these and you're going down! This is without a doubt the toughest riding we've ever done on an Enfield and the less experienced riders are doing brilliantly. Jamie, Swiss Martin and Neil all make it through. The larger lads, Mick and Mark, are really struggling and Mark chooses to ride in the jeep as he's completely exhausted. Mick carries on but is falling far too often; he keeps going like the Duracell bunny. And how the hell is Alex managing to get through this carrying a pillion? Vidhya is suffering with the constant pummelling from below, but taking the punishment without complaint - to us at least.

Everytime I glance left, I see the broken mirror, it reminds me that I'm not as good off-road as I think I am, which is good to bring me back to reality, even if it's embarrassing.

Back on tarmac and we stop to recover. it's been really, really tough, but we loved it. We're all drained, hot and bothered, but we swap stories about our escapades as we sip our drinks. Steve needs an ibuprofen or two after twisting his ankle in a rut, and Danny? Danny didn't fall off once, good for him. Alan alas needs to buy yet another camera; that's three now - he's the champion camera killer, however, fortunately he's not harmed at all.  And, although he stayed upright, Gerard says he was convinced there was a stone with his name on it, waiting to trip him up.  If there was, he didn't find it.... must have been written with invisible ink! 

It's another 55km to go, mostly highway and Alex races off again leaving at least two junctions unmarked. We gather confused at one junction with locals pointing in two different directions. We work out it's left and I mark the junction to direct others. Ten mins later Mick turns up from the other direction, having turned right and then seeing nobody was following him for a while decided to do a U-turn. Good move on his part as he would have ended up back in the mountains.

From here, it's a main road again and it's a fast ride to our destination. We turn on to a private road and have to pay a toll to reach our destination. Then it's up a windy road on the best and most reliable tarmac we've ridden. It's another really good ride for ten minutes or so. We reach our lodgings and park, but it's then a five minute walk to the entrance.

It's a hotel not a campsite after-all, and it's perched on the edge of a ridge with stunning views into the valley below. It looks like it's straight down too. I feel so vulnerable looking down, but this hotel has survived at least two major Earthquakes. And it has water!

I think it will be another early night. After nine hard hours on the road, we're all rather tired. We made it through the "unfeasbile" road! We've all done well.

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Nepal, Day 10 - a day off in Pokara

A rest day, but although I should be sleeping, I'm awake at 6am and start to clickity-click on my BlackBerry keyboard, surfing the news and seeing if my blog uploaded correctly. It usually has as the 3G connection here has been very reliable - all credit to Nepal Telecom. The Iridium satellite phone I rented for this trip has been idle and unused. I brought it in case we visited remote areas out of cell-phone coverage, but apart from a few dead spots in the mountains, coverage has been excellent and often even more reliable than the hotel wifi.

We gradually coalesce for breakfast sometime after 8am and Graham has been cogitating on an idea about a future trip. We brainstorm and the idea develops further, with Iain providing valuable inspiration though his experience working with Adventure Ashram. Let's see what comes of it. Watch this space.

Some head into the old town, but it's getting hot, but especially humid, and I don't fancy getting an internal soaking. Besides, this is a rest day, so I rest and do my own investigations into a future low budget mini-trip. Perhaps it sounds apathetic, but I feel I've absorbed enough of the local culture for the moment.

I like Nepal, the people are friendly and I get a sense that it's more easy going than India; less busy and less stress - except for the Kathmandu traffic. Apart from the obvious poverty and the recent Earthquakes, it seems to have less problems than enormous India. It's also a country of huge geographical differences in a small space. From the hot and humid south, to the cool and high mountains in the north, including Everest. No wonder it has been so popular with tourists.

Apparently, there were some mishaps with the hotel laundry and whites have come back brown. That's not a problem I have with the room's built-in sink laundry. The only thing I have that's white was my dinner shirt yesterday, and I would not risk that being 'washed'.

Up early tomorrow for another exploratory ride. The road we're travelling on may not be on any maps, which kinda guarantees an interesting day. Looking forward to the unknown; or even the unknown unknowns.....

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Nepal, Day 8 - an afternoon in Jomsom

The ride was short, so we get a chance to wander around the small town, stretched along the edges of the Kali Gandaki river in the Lower Mustang Valley. But although Jomsom is small, there is an airport here. The runway is virtually outside our hotel. Not that the noise was a problem, we didn't see an aircraft for the entire time here.

The hotel has the most character of any we've stayed in, with high ceilings and first floor balconies overlooking the central common areas with paintings on the wall. The front of the hotel has a courtyard and from here you can see the mighty Annapurna range overlooking the town. We think one of the peaks is Fishtail or is it Nilgiri?

I take a walk towards the centre, past the end of the runway with it's turning circle (apparently the wind comes up the valley like clockwork from 11am and the aircraft are timed to take-off/land into it) and then the local army garrison: "no photos" sign-posted.

There's a metal bridge across the river to the other side of town and I cross it to see what's over there. A few houses, municipal offices and shops, plus a sports field where a local team is practising. I buy some local produce, sea buckthorn squash. Mixed with water it's a pleasant drink. Sea buckthorn is a berry that grows at high altitude here, and I'm told it's full of antioxidants.

Walking through the other side of town, there are people returning home from work and kids playing. There's also ample evidence of Earthquake damage and some houses are now just piles of rubble. But unlike the village we visited on day 1 there are very few buildings over two storeys.

Upstream of where the river enters the town is a large flood plain, which probably becomes a lake at certain times of the year. Before our ride, Gerard had trekked into Jomson from the north (we rode in from the south) along that river bed, in which he says many fossils can be found. There's a concrete bridge being built, just where the floodplain ends and until it is complete, vehicles have to cross the river on the gravel floodplain, which probably becomes unusable at certain times of the year.  The other bridges in the town are strictly for pedestrians, bikes and horses.

Downstream of this I cross back to the hotel side of the town on a very old wooden bridge that was warped by the Earthquakes. It's still usable, but there are signs there asking that no more than five persons be on the bridge at any one time.

There's a small bus station here which serves the valley below; to get further up the valley, there's a jeep station a few hundred metres north. Small shops, hotels and travellers services are located in this area, as well as a colourful temple complete with prayer wheels embedded into the walls. While I'm there, some locals are walking around, spinning the wheels and chanting softly.

I walk back to the hotel taking care not to take any pictures of the garrison. ;-)

That night the moon rises over the mountains rather spectacularly. Often such sights should just be absorbed, rather than attempted to be photographed. Bed early, it's a 6am start.

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Nepal, Day 9 - Jomsom back to Pokara (160km)

The alarm goes off. My room-mate, Gerard, tortures me with an electric light, and then adding to my discomfort, floods me with daylight by drawing the curtains! It's 4:59am, breakfast is in 30 minutes and we ride within the hour!

It's an early start today as there's a big ride ahead. We have to re-ride the 60 hard kms we did yesterday from Tatopani, plus the 100km of mixed roads from there to Pokara; all in one day. A tall order it would seem, hence the torturing reveille.

In fact we leave at 6:15 and I could have had 15 more minutes in bed. There are no T's again today as we've all been good (or at least not told tales to Alex - those T-shirts in hot weather are agony).

It's cooler, thankfully, and for the first time I'm wearing my proper bike jacket. It doesn't take long for it to be dispensed with. The sun is low in the sky and the light is good, but with some low cloud still to be banished by the Sun's rays. Although riding the reverse route might normally be boring, the views are completely different the other way around, and it's almost like riding a new road. I recognise some of the mud and rocks; there, just where we left them, but it's good for them to challenge us anew.

'The Harley' has been tucked up in my mental garage for the last few days and it stays there today, these are Bullet roads; at least the first 100km. Overnight the mechanics gave my bike the once over, cleaning out the carb and putting a free flow exhaust on. It now sounds "proper", as Guy Martin might say. Although the Bullet is good for these roads, the 1950's designed suspension takes no prisoners. It's a good workout, like going ten rounds with Muhammad Ali, but leaving the ring intact. Hitting a bump, rock, or rut a little too fast and the jolt hammers you in the seat, the ribs and the neck as the shock absorber transfers its unabsorbed energy into you. After a week of this, we've all toughened up. The trick to riding in this terrain is finding the right line: get that right and you'll float like a butterfly, 80% of your work done. Get it wrong, as we invariably do, and you'll take another 'bee sting' to the ribs.

But even your best defence will not save you from the jagged, paved, stone road just outside one village. It shakes the fillings from your teeth for 50m or so, until there's a small gap to the side, on which you can escape. The bracket holding my exhaust gives up at this point and wobbles around until I can effect an emergency repair at a chai stop (I'm too impatient to wait for the support truck).

The 60km to Tatopani are completed within three hours and we collect Mark, who's feeling much better. We joke about how much he was charged for his room to be fumigated; at least he's cleaned his boots. We've another 100km to go, but it's getting hotter and while we wait for the support jeep to catch up (so they can take Mark's luggage), we huddle into whatever shade we can find.

Off again and we regroup at Beni. The BikerDom helmet is a good marker for others to see, but some still miss it and we have to shout at them to stop. While off the bike there, I keep getting asked where I'm going and when I say Pokara they try to get me on a bus. I used the universal motorbike symbol 'holding pretend bars and twisting the throttle' to indicate that my ride is already sorted. Beni is a major transport hub and there are mostly old and smoky coaches heading in all directions. Smaller minibuses advertise A/C, free wifi and LED TV as their travel USP.

From there it's only another 80k to Pokara and we're making good progress. The roads are getting slightly easier, but it's still not reliable tarmac yet. The next chai stop is at a place we frequented a few days ago heading north. It's the parade of shops and a tyre fitter. Most of them are closed but the noodle chef is open. He has eggs on display too, but seems reluctant to sell any. Alex has a snooze in the van, but we're all getting a little eager to move off. Prompted from slumber, he heads off like a scalded cat while the rest of us prepare to mount up. (Also note that today, Vidhya is taking a rest from her back-seat pounding as she's already experienced these roads.)

It's now a tarmac (see previous post's note about tarmac) run into Pokara, about 40k to go. I set off and eventually catch Alex. We then make good progress on the mostly good tarmac to within 10k of Pokara after some serious curves, occasional dirt, and lots of right hand and left thumb (the horn). As I pull up next to Alex at a chai stop, he shakes my hand; it seems he enjoyed the ride as much as I did.

We finally arrive at 3:30 having circled our hotel a few times trying to find it. The hotel is very posh and the sight of 20 hairy bikers turning up must have ruffled a few feathers. To dispel concerns, later I turn up for dinner in a suit and tie, but the trainers don't quite go with the outfit. My body's muscle memory is still actively processing the Bullet's sensations and it takes a while to adjust to life in the slow lane.

The hotel is plagued by endless power cuts and very poor wifi, but the rooms are decent. Dinner is a buffet again, but others choose to dine out; the food we had was fine. Later a few of us go on a hunt for ice cream and stop at a restaurant, which turns out to have a noisy (shreaky, screaming singers) cultural show, which we don't enjoy, and the advertised ice-cream is "melt"; the Black Forest gateau is decent enough. We get our ice cream fix at the next stop and shoot the breeze until it's time to retire.

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Nepal, Day 5 - Chitwan to Tansen, New friends en route

While waiting as corner man, I chat to a group of locals and have my picture taken with them. Very friendly people.

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Nepal, Day 8 - Tatopani to Jomsom (60km)

Yesterday was rather uneventful in terms of awards and no-one gets a T-shirt. But at last we're in the mountains and from our breakfast spot we can see clouds hanging over them. And now, we're about to head up into the mountains and into those clouds from our position at 1200m. 

Alex says we're riding the bikes too hard, some have dented rims and there's only a certain amount of punishment they can take; Aussie Alan says "why are you looking at me!" Mark will be staying here in Tatopani to recover and we'll pick him up on our return journey tomorrow. At least he gets another lie-in.

Now we're on proper mountain paths cut through rocks and with suspension bridges linking two sides of the valley or crossing the tributaries that join from the sides. All along the route there are signs of recent landslides and rock falls and the track is a constant obstacle course.

We're in the Annapurna Conservation area of the Mustang region and have to stop to get permits to travel further. The permit station is at 2000m and we will go up another 700m before reaching our hotel tonight. Initially it's a very steep climb with very challenging rocky, gravelly, muddy, and curiously at times even dry sandy, tracks. It eventually flattens out and we're now above the gravel flood plain of another wide river, although there's not much of a river at the moment and we can see truck tracks crossing it. There's a different feel about the scenery and the greenery is more alpine now with fir trees and thinning cover; we are not above the tree line yet, but can't be far off.

My bike starts to develop a misfire, needing 1st gear on uphill sections when 2nd would normally do. And even clutch slip in first at some points. The mechanics stop and change my bike's air filter and a spark plug, which does improve it. They wanted to dismantle the carburettor, but I managed to persuade them that I could get to the hotel as it was.

Further on and we've actually descended to the valley floor and stop next to the flood plain for lunch. The grazing pack mules are jangling bells as they munch, it's a nice noise and always reminds me of summers in the Alps.  Again, the river side lunch stop buildings looks very vulnerable to being washed away in rainy season, but this one looks like it's been there for a while. When vegetable curry is ordered, the owner heads out to his back garden to pick the veg; can't get fresher than that and by all accounts it was very good.

Pushing on and we see the best views of the trip so far. Majestic sheer walls of rock, snow peaked mountains in the distance and waterfalls to our sides. The riding is still challenging on the broken tracks but now we're also distracted by the views, making progress even harder.

Our destination is Jomsom and we reach it in the early afternoon. From the town we get a good view of one of the Annapurna mountains. Apparently there are seven. It looks amazing covered in snow and towers above everything else in the area.

The hotel is lovely with tall ceilings, communal areas and real character. Most of us go for walks around the town after our obligatory wifi access routine, which is shorter than usual as it's a bit slow. But at least it's there; last night's place had a broken connection, so most of us are suffering withdrawal symptoms.

A short 60km today, but quite challenging in places.

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Nepal, Day 7. - Pokara to Tatopani, part 2

Heading upwards again and it cools. We turn off the main valley and into a still wide, but narrower one. The river is smaller also, but judging by the house-sized boulders along the banks, it's powerful when it wants to be. The sides are still steep, but rather than meandering, the river runs much straighter.

We left proper tarmac a long time ago but there are still scraps left in places. For the most part the roads are muddy, with stones and rocks strategically placed to throw you off course. Keep momentum going and you'll get through. Sometimes the road runs on bare layered rock and you either cut 'across the grain' which seems to give the best grip, or run along a smooth face, which is usually very slippery. 

This is Neil's first trip; he's never ridden off road before and is struggling a bit and I find myself over-taking him a few times. He's doing really well to keep going for a first timer, as even some of the vets are having problems in places.

I'm following Alex and Vidhya and the road splits at a bridge. It looks like the main road crosses the bridge, but they go straight on. I decide to stop and mark the road and take a few pictures of the bridge. While I'm out of view momentarily, Mick heads across the bridge. A few shouts and he's back on course. Makes me realise the value of the corner man method.

A bit further on and there are some enormous puddles. Jamie guns the engine, dashes through and gets a decent muddy soaking. Some use the feet-up technique to keep dry, but I always feel more confident being planted on the pegs to allow the bike to move beneath me if it hits hidden rocks. Fortunately for Jamie we reach the hotel shortly after, so he can dry off.

To reach the hotel itself, we have to ride through the narrow alleys of Tatopani, up and down the steps on their built-in concrete ramps which are only 20cm wide; intense concentration is in order. It's fun though and the locals look on inquisitively.

Poor Graham is still hobbling. For some reason his feet are swelling in the boots. The doc thinks it may be dehydration. Others are also hobbling for various reasons. It's getting to the stage where we're starting to look like the walking wounded returning from the battlefield. Mark's ailments are of a more delicate nature; he's in-line for tomorrow's Skidmark award, but not for the usual reasons... his poor boots! He does look rather pale though and is suffering from acute gut problems. He's done well to get this far.

Totapani means hot water and just down the road from the hotel are the open air hot springs. It consists of two pools, one natural hot spring water, the other regular water heated with the geothermal energy. The natural pool is so hot I can barely enter. The heated water pool is a little cooler and we gather there and sip drinks. Despite the heat, the natural water is preferable as it looks cleaner. And my still healing broken shoulder feels relief in the warmth. 

We meet two foreigners at the springs, an Austrian man, cycling the area and a lady from Toulouse, France, who's been on the road for eight months travelling through Vietnam, Cambodia, India and now Nepal, after giving up work. I'm very impressed that Glenn is able to converse with her in French, while me working and living in a French speaking country can just about manage a bon jour! And to think I skipped a trip to Machu Pichu to attend a French lesson - what a missed opportunity.

Glenn has another chance to practice his French as at the hotel we meet a lady from the French island, La Reunion; lucky her, the weather is better than her home town in Northern France. There's also a Russian, he's very interested in our bikes and tells us he rides a Kawasaki ZX-12R; Glenn doesn't speak Russian.

The hotel is a popular trekking hotel and is more basic than others we've stayed in. It's also cooler and for the first time I use the sleeping bag liner to sleep in.

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SuperBikerDom, somewhere en route (pic taken by Iain Crockart)