Nepal, Day 7 - Pokara to Tatopani (100km), part 1

The Hotel Sacred Valley asked that we pre-order breakfast the night before, but it was worth it because it was the tastiest yet; simple but well done. And excellent coffee, not instant Nescrapé.

Rolling along once outside town and there are two guys on a moped carrying an enormous speaker. Loads of any kind are carried on bikes and scooters; it's refreshing to see the dreaded tape carrying elfs not having stuck their red noses in here (but the elfs back home are learning not to be so intrusive, give 'em a chance).

As we head through the valley, the air is noticeable cooler. Occasionally we come across moving bushes on the road that turn out to be ladies carrying massive bundles of leaves, presumably fodder for their cattle.

One of our chai stops is at the edge of the valley floor. There's a small community built up here, hotels, tyre fitters, shops etc, but it's hard to see how they survive off just the few travellers that stop. The small buildings in the flood plain are the type you can imagine you'll see on TV news reports being swept away in floods when it rains heavily. The land is fertile here and every opportunity is taken to make use of it, no matter how dangerous it might be.

We start winding our way up the side of the valley and I stop at a view point to take pictures. The opposite side is really steep with sheer sides plunging hundreds of meters and right at the top are small houses precariously perched. If you look closely (with a zoom lens) you can see tiny paths zig-zagging down the sides. While I'm there snapping, three local men turn up, armed with scythes and carrying a sheath of thin grass like stalks. Blades in-hand, they proceed to climb down in their flip-flops to search the slopes below the vantage point. I realise the sheath contains bamboo and they're looking for new shoots to cut with their scythes. Again, no elfs here, maybe on this occasion there should be.

More to follow.....

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Nepal, Day 6 - Tansen to Pokara (130km)

It feels like it's going to be another very, very warm day..... 

Spirit today is Glenn for rushing to take a picture of Chris when he fell off in the mud yesterday, rather than helping him to get up. Skidmark goes to Aussie Chris for an embarrassing slide on the grass after giving it the beans, even before we left the hotel yesterday. And Dick goes to Chris for the said fun and frolics in the mud and then trying to hide it by hosing himself down (he claims not) before arriving at the hotel in the evening. Chris was also the subject of ridicule when it turned out that he paid to have someone carry his bags to his room. Not so bad you might think, employing a local, but it turned out that the local was an old lady! Graham and Hugo suffered the same embarrassment but kept very quiet about it this morning.

We have a 'lie-in' and start riding at 9, which immediately means the temperature is up before we ride. The humidity is noticeable and you can feel it especially as we descend into the valley. The route today is all tarmac (barring landslide alterations) initially following the side of the valley, and we can keep up a good pace easily. The last few days' riding has be long and tough, so much so that even Alex is feeling it. Today's riding should be less taxing, which will allow us to recover a little.

In Nepal, like India, Cambodia, Mongolia, Bolivia, Chile and Argentina, tarmac is never just tarmac. If it's not potholed then it's strewn with gravel, if it's not gravel then it's sand, or straw, or a random cow, or as Danny found out, a monkey. You have to ride prepared. Most commonly today, the black stuff was punctuated by a liberal sprinkling of sandy gravel, often on corners. Which is really not what you need.

When you're bowling along at a pace, sand on a corner is often a butt clenching affair. If you see it in time, you scrub off more speed than is usual for a corner, try and find the straightest line you can, and keep the bars loose. That's what I've found to be the key to riding in most challenging situations, that and leaning over a bit more. The bike usually knows where it wants to go, don't fight it, and you'll usually stay upright. Fight it by tensing the arms and things can get out of hand quickly.

I'm following a group, and Mark's wide, sweeping, ROSPA lines are immediately recognisable before his orange Klim helmet. In theory that means he'll see the oncoming truck overtaking a moped overtaking a bicycle overtaking a pedestrian who's being chased by a monkey, on a blind corner. Ok, not quite that bad, except for the blind corner bit. Mark is still with us, so I guess it works. Steve's lines are less exaggerated but they achieve the same result, he's always impressive on or off tarmac, measured but confident; he's still here too.

As we're on a main road we pass through more towns; yet more kids in uniform - this is a land of kids going to and from school! We initiate waving and the results are always heart warming. It's such a simple thing, to wave. And yet it often produces the most intense response from it's recipients; usually a genuine beaming grin and reciprocated wave. We spread joy and happiness wherever we go! 

Almost the same applies to a toot of the horn, in the west it's used as a rebuke, but here, a toot is a 'hi', 'I'm here', or even 'thanks', yet another simple thing, but powerful. Like the wave I think it induces a feeling of worth; that person is worth waving at or tooting. Maybe the school kids go to class and tell their friends they saw a group of noisy motorbikes and the riders waved at them. On the other hand maybe they forget us in an instant.

The bikes with their loud characteristic exhaust notes are difficult to ignore. Accelerating hard they produce a deep, pulsating thud that you can feel in your stomach, it's a nice noise and the locals seem to appreciate it rather than reel from it like they would in Europe. The resident bikes are 125cc types or maybe even 220cc. They look impressive, but can't match the dynamics of the 500cc Bullet: the Rolls Royce of bikes in India and Nepal. If you ride one, you're a bit special. Imagine a group of Ferraris travelling as a group; that's us in Nepal, only on two wheels. We're special, see.

The lunch stop is at a place where the proprietor roasts and grinds his own coffee on a small table top roaster. He plays psychedelic music on his decent sound system and keeps bees on the roof. The veggie mo-mos (think dim sum) are good and we share this titbit with a group of French tourists who sit down near us on the roof terrace.

Because it's hot, I experiment with riding in different positions to get air flowing into my trousers. I pull out the pillion pegs and ride standing on them. It's a little awkward as have to have my arms straight down from my shoulders, like walking on all fours, but it does the trick with the airflow into my unzipped thigh vents. I can only do it for a few minutes at a time and not at all on the really twisty bits as I can't reach the rear brake. Then I try sitting on the pillion seat. That works well because my legs are almost straight out in front and I get the flow from the ankle upwards. My arms are straight too, but ahead, and I can ride like this indefinitely so long as it's not too bumpy. I imagine it's like riding a Harley Davidson, only without the bits falling off.

Our destination, Pokara is the most touristy place we've visited so far. The area around our hotel by the lake is full of trekking and tourist shops selling things to cater for what was tens of thousands of visitors per year. But no longer; the tourists have largely dried up since the Earthquakes a year ago, which is a shame because the disruption has largely gone. Businesses are suffering with the visitor shortage, which means prices are low, so it's actually a good time to visit and benefit the Nepalese economy that depends heavily on tourism. We do see the occasional foreign tourist though, usually drinking coffee in one of the many coffee shops here. There's a great range of restaurants too; Pokara is definitely worth adding to your Nepal itinerary.

Dinner at the hotel is beans and chips. Right nice, I say, right nice. With quiche, jacket potatoes and salad (washed in iodine and filtered water so it's safe to consume). Some of the more discerning palates in our party chose to sample the local restaurant scene and decide to dine out. Personally, quiche, beans and chips made a nice change from daal and rice (which I love, but variety is the spice of life).

So far we've travelled mostly westward from Kathmandu, but from tomorrow, we'll be heading north into the mountains and trekking country. Gerard knows the area a little as he was here trekking for two weeks immediately prior to our trip, so he can be our guide yet again. We're not actually going that high into the mountains, probably not even above 3000m but the cooler air will most definitely be welcome.

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Nepal, Day 6 - Feeling hot and humid on the road to Pokara

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Nepal, Day 5 - Chitwan to Tansen (175km)

The forecast for today is 38 degrees. That sums up today: hot. All our kit was still soaked, not having dried overnight as there was no breeze. But for the first part of the ride the cooling effect is pleasant; as the day progresses, yesterday's rain wet is replaced by sticky sweat wet. I prefer the former.

Inevitably we stop start until we find the right road. Even though it's only around 9am, I'm seeking shade at every stop. A school bus passes and we wave to the kids packed-in with some sitting on others laps. There's no way that coach is air conditioned so it must be a very unpleasant journey.

Shortly after, we lose Gerard; or should that be, he's lost us? He's using satnav, so at least one of us is going to sleep in a comfy bed this evening! As it happens, we catch him up later, half way up a mountain; he has the route, he knows where he's going. (A few of us have at times sailed passed the main group when it has stopped to regroup, the mass of local bikes and the surprisingly common colours we're wearing means it's easily done. I had to race off after Glenn at one stop in town today as he fixated on getting through the traffic.) Gerard says he was taking it very easy as a solo rider with no support following him to pick up the pieces. Moral of the story: GPS rocks! (Or at least it and the maps used with it do).

We stop for chai after an another amazing windy route up the mountain side with views over the valley and more drops to the sides. And Martin drops off, or rather his exhaust does. Hanging on by the barest wire this morning, it finally gives up on the bumpy terrain. He has it strapped to his bike's panniers as he pulls up. It doesn't sound that much louder. We speculate whether the toothbrushes and toothpaste wedged into the chai shop's rafters are for hire.....

Alex races ahead with his wife Vidhya as pillion, he's told us to follow the main road or go straight on, but at several junctions it's not so obvious which is "main"; we guess. For a while we are pushing-on blind, we've not seen him for so long he must have taken a different route? But 'we know' we're going the right way so we carry on. It turns out our route is his too, as we meet him at a stop much later.

Getting to that point we cross a dried up river bed, but it's not quite dry and there's a large stretch of what we assume is shallow water to negotiate and we work out the road comes out the other side, even if we can't see the river exit. We splash through, only to find other further on. Great picture opportunities and we gather around the water hole ready for someone to fall in. I think nobody does (that I know about). Mick remarks that seeing cameras at the ready is a sure fire way to know there's difficult riding ahead. Once again my boots are soaked inside.

After the water splashes and pseudo lunch stop we push on to find our next obstacles, mud and deep muddy puddles. With our bike's road tyres it's like meeting black ice. Don't try to do anything, just go straight ahead and keep your momentum. Mud on a corner requires special care and can only be handled by adapting your line into the corner. Alternatively look for the locals' route (see Zeman's advice in the Cambodia blog entries from 2011). Chris takes the opposite approach and decides to take the path of most resistance. This results in him caking himself and the side of the bike in mud; definitely one to be reported to Alex.

By this time it really does feel like 38, if not more. We're all sweating profusely so have to keep up the water intake. I get through two litres and a coke on the road, which is unusual for me. We've now decided to initiate our own corner man routine as there are just too many opportunities for errors and getting lost. At one corner, I top up with water from a local shop and at another I chat to a group of locals, who practice their English with me. One man tells me he is a driver, and I asked how he learnt English, he tells me from books and the internet. Once again I'm impressed that Nepal has such good connections in remote areas. Apart from last night, I've pretty much had good signal everywhere on this trip. Before leaving my corner, I pose for a couple of group photos with them.

It's another 60km or so to our destination and the first 30 is spent going through small villages that always have three things in common, endless school kids in uniforms, random chickens and speed bumps (or the neck snapping speed dips). The thought of a local official having an opening ceremony for the village speed bumps runs through my mind; it's been a long day. 

The dirt turns to tarmac and back again as various landslides do their thing. The tarmac is well pot-holed and in one spot there's a half metre circle at the edge of road with a drop away to infinity (I wish I'd stopped to take a piccy), now THAT was a pothole.

Eventually the tarmac becomes more reliable and smooth so I think I must be on the right path. I've not seen anyone else for an hour now and am wondering what happened to them all. I know I'm on the right route, Google and the locals tell me so. I meet Swiss Martin and Jamie at some point which confirms that hypothesis. Shortly afterwards, I hit the highway and a policeman points the way.

A quick blast on the blacktop, sweeping corners and overtaking trucks and I finally catch the main group stopped just before we reach Tansen. Alex and Vidhya wait for the others while we head to the hotel, now relying on our satnavs to lead the way. A few hiccups pointing to alleyways and one-way streets, but otherwise it's quite reliable.

The Hotel Shrinagar is five stories high and we get a room on the fifth floor. Excellent view over Tansen, but a bit of a haul for the luggage. We pay a few rupees to have the bags taken up; worth it after an exhausting day. I hear a "Woh!" from the bathroom and Gerard's found a large spider. We catch and release, but not before showing our resident naturist Steve. Naturist, naturalist, same difference. He's impressed, with the spider too. Although large, it had an amazing capacity to cling to glass upside down.

For the first time, I'm really tired after the riding. I did drink during the day, but probably not enough. I start writing the blog, but because I'm tired, it's going to be short. Maybe I'm wrong - once the fingers start tapping....

So much happened today, I've probably forgotten some good stuff. It was another really hard ride, only 210km but mostly difficult terrain, justifying the 10+ hours on the road.

Report from the morning briefing. Today, Danny is a Dick (only today?...), Gerard has Spirit and Jamie (who I spotted yesterday) is Skidmark.

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Nepal, Day 4 - Nagarkot to Chitwan (170km)

We've been in country for a few days now and our guts are adjusting to the environment. Some have been more unlucky than others. Danny, Hugo, Graham, Alan and Gerard have their innards playing games. In 2010, Alex gave us that indispensable advice: "it's a brave man that farts in India". The same applies for Nepal. Essential checks in the morning now include toilet roll. 

Before we ride off, the briefing starts with the well honed tradition of "... of the day" T-shirts. "Dick", "Spirit" and "Skidmark". Aussie Alan, who got lost yesterday, is given the Spirit award, while Dick of the Day goes to Iain Crockart for failing to direct the convey at a junction. Matt is our very first Skidmark for allowing his bike to fall over at a stop. The guys have to wear their respective t-shirts all-day while riding.

Today we're off to Chitwan in the lower valleys. It's going to be even hotter than yesterday so, we're wearing the minimum. As we're on bikes that still means thick boots, armoured trousers, upper body armour (armour means some kind of dense foam padding or plastic panels), gloves and helmet. The normal abrasion-protection over-jacket is dispensed with, it's just too hot, and we are not going that fast on the small roads. Despite our minimal attire, flip flops and face masks are de rigueur for the locals. We feel overdressed.

A couple of clicks out, Jamie 'may have' had a spill. Front brake, sharp sandy corner; bent peg and damaged pride. Our first proper tumble; won't be the first. Later the same happens to me - fortunately nobody saw, shhhh.

Heading west towards Kathmandu and we hang a left onto the ring road before reaching it. The traffic is insane and we fight our way through the cars, trucks, lorries, and their thick exhaust soot, squeezing though gaps and making our own with the horn, or detouring to the inside when safe and quicker; only the bikes and scooters keep up. I can feel the acrid soot and dust burning my throat. I have sympathy with the occasional policeman I see stranded on traffic islands trying helpless to direct the never ending waterfall of vehicles armed only with a whistle and once-white gloves.

Leaving the ring, we aim for Chandragiri and very soon get lost U-turning several times until Alex finds the right road; GPS apparently is for wimps. Gerard doesn't agree and promptly sets his up for our intended destination and Alex ends up following his directions for the rest of the day. And we still get lost; because as Gerard's phone battery runs down the satnav lady stops talking to him.

Before before we get to that point we negotiate an amazing set of roads. Up and down we go on narrow unmade roads winding through the greenery and along the sides of the hills with the odd perilous drop to widen our eyes. We're now dodging rocks rather than cars, but the potholes are just as lethal. Steady progress is the name of the game, this is not a race, and the Enfields are in their element put-put-putting their pilots along with their long-stoke engines happily pulling in second and even third gear up hill.

We can see the hillsides are cultivated by terraced fields and people are out in the heat cutting the crops or ploughing the fields. A few ladies scamper across the roads as we approach, and they're carrying loads of green foliage on their backs using their heads to support the weight. Tough work.

The heat abates as we climb, but comes back with a vengeance as we descend, and hits us like a wall of hot air in places. It's not actually THAT hot, but it's humid and most of us were expecting to be dealing with snowy not sweltering conditions. For a brief period we follow the side of a reservoir, the water is very low as could be expected just before the rainy season kicks in. Oops, spoke too soon.

The sky darkens as we get back to the plains and are now on tarmac again and running besides what will be a wide river in full flow in a few weeks, or maybe sooner. The lightning begins and dramatically cuts the sky in two followed by the cooling first drops that feel good as we move. But as the drops become more regular we stop to don our wet weather gear. 

The deluge soon hits and we're battling squally winds and heavy rain as the storm erupts. Some kids heading home from school, battle with umbrellas and rush to seek shelter; others are resigned to their fate and prepare for a right soaking. The rain is cooling after the heat, but on the bike can soon cool you too much as the airflow makes the term "wind chill" a reality. Even with our 'waterproof' gear most of us are properly soaked within the hour, I can feel my waterproof boots are working well though... as they slowly fill with water that has soaked through my Gore-tex trousers sans Gore-tex liner.  Nice.

The deluge continues for another hour or so, but we're too wet to notice. Our vision is impaired, but we just wipe the drops from our visor every few seconds. The rain has brought down leaves and blossoms from the trees making the roads potentially more slippery so extra care is needed. We travel with our lights on so that we can be seen more clearly, but this seems to upset the locals as they flash their headlights as we pass. Using lights in Nepal, as in India, seems to be frowned upon, day or night.

We make several U-turns again as we miss the turning from the main road to our hotel, splashing through deep puddles as we use the side of the road to manoeuvre. Finally finding the correct route courtesy of Gerard's free Navigator software (and offline maps for Android only, sorry Apple fanboys) we stream into the Chitran National Park. Tigers and Elephants be here, but we only see a few elephants - ridden by mahouts for the tourists, but real elephants at least. We miss the brass elephant marker and only find a rhinoceros statue instead. Retracing our mechanical steps we find the inanimate elephant and reach our hotel, the Green Mansions Hotel, like something from "Out of Africa", only this is in Nepal.

Phew, ten hours on the road, but we've arrived! And it's stopped raining.

A bit shell shocked, tired and wet, we're none the less all thoroughly thrilled by our day. 210km, not the planned 170; this is a reconnaissance after all. Showered, dried off and relaxed, the conversation during wind down drinks turns to bowel health. Given the problems this morning, polite conversation now amounts to, "How are you, have you had a shit?" Charming. It's been that kind of day.

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Nepal, Day 3 - Kathmandu to Nagarkot (30kms) - a warm up

Before we even leave the hotel, Matt has a problem with his bike. The gear lever and foot peg have come off. Loose bolt, nothing too drastic, but it takes a few minutes to fix. While we wait for the repair, we practice manoeuvring in the car park and I manage to lock the front wheel braking. These are definitely not the Enfields we've ridden before, the brakes work! Note to self, be very careful with the front brake on dusty roads.

Leaving the hotel into the stream of traffic outside would be a real culture shock for any unseasoned traveller; fortunately our core bunch of bikers are well seasoned, or is that well haggard? Well something, anyway. At first we're beeping like madmen as we adjust to the conditions, but soon it's all familiar and we get into a rhythm, short toot for pedestrians, slightly longer for other motorbikes and scooters, maybe a double toot for a wandering car and then frantic beep, beep, beep, beep for the bus or lorry that's just suddenly pulled across into our path. Doesn't really make any different in the latter case, but it makes you feel better about yourself; and at least you tried. The traffic is not really that much worse or chaotic than we've experienced in other developing countries, La Paz for example, or even the Brussels Inner Ring, it's just what it is. We adjust and ride accordingly, keeping our wits about us.

The roads are pretty decent tarmac and, after an hour or so battling through the traffic and fumes, we turn off towards the hills. But not before stopping for another quick repair: Jamie's bike has both spark plugs and the air filter clogged. All are changed and were on our way. He does his best to miss the turning too and sails straight on, overtaking a truck, while we're all stopped at the turning. He says that was his best overtaking manoeuvre of the day, timed perfectly and no doubt with an appropriate toot.

The roads become more twisty and with less traffic: the ultimate more/less combination for bike riders. We wind our way up the narrowing and broken tarmaced roads to around 2000m high and it's noticeably cooler, which is pleasant after the humid 27C of the city. About 10kn from our destination we stop for chai. Slightly sweet, strong and flavoured with cardamom it's an acquired taste. This one is not too sweet or strong, which is more palatable to the newbies.

Time to check our phones and Graham gets a reminder to prod his "dobber" and probably also chastisement for putting the knives in the dishwasher, but he keeps that one quiet. He's a man being tracked, courtesy of Spot and Globalstar, so he's on his best behaviour.

Turns out we've lost Alan. Not Alan, Alan, Alan, who's sitting next to me; new Alan, beardy Alan, Aussie Alan. He knows where we're going, and Chris his mate says don't worry, he'll turn up. He does later, just after we reach the hotel and comes in from the opposite direction; we scratch our heads. 

Before checking in we get the wifi code. First things first! We're at 1800m and it's a nice view over the valley, even if it is a bit misty.

A short, but involving and enjoyable, bit of riding, and no offs. In the days ahead, what elephants lay waiting to jump into our paths, I wonder?  Any excuse for an off.

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Nepal, Day 3 - The briefing, getting the horn again!

The tour begins now and Alex starts with the customary briefing. The good new is we've got an amazing week of so of riding. The bad news is the Nepalese roads are worse than those of India, and that's from someone who's ridden in India for more than 20 years. 

First things first: your horn, use it! It's the single most important asset on the bike; not the engine, not the wheels, nor even the brakes. It tells people you're there and without it you might as well be invisible. People here do not think about looking when they cross the road, Alex makes that very clear. There's no 'right' side of the road, overtaking is initiated by the horn, and if you want to turn right (they drive on the 'left') what ever you do, don't stop in the middle of the road waiting. 

Alex explains the 500cc Enfields are better than those we've ridden before, they've got more power (28hp) and pull well. More than fast enough for these roads. 

For toilet stops find a quiet spot, but don't expect privacy. It's likely someone has been there before so watch out for "man cakes" 

Our India virgins are looking rather anxious. Most of our group have heard it before, but even to us it's deadly serious. We're all experienced riders and we know the risks. We WILL take care. 

The bikes are blessed by a monk, a quick photo shoot, once over of the bikes, and we're off! Only 30km today, Nagarkot; a warm up.

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Nepal, Day 2 - Sightseeing Day, the school visit and Khokana, photos

Pictures from our day

Nepal, Day 2 - Sightseeing Day, the Khokana school visit

We finally arrived at the Peace Garden Secondary School in Khokana, just south of Kathmandu, after picking up Mike, our interface with the school. Mike has worked and lived here for 25 years and runs a few local companies; or 'sweatshops', as he jokingly calls them. Even though I've only known Mike for an hour or so, knowing his involvement in this school and others, I'd say sweatshops is far from reality.

He says that the state schools don't have the resources to provide a decent education and many of them face staff shortages. This school charges about five pounds per month, which doesn't sound like much, but it's a big chunk out of the earnings of a poor Nepalese family.

The school itself was badly damaged during the Earthquakes and the main building was unusable until it had significant repairs. In the few days immediately after the quakes new classrooms were build outside the main school area so the kids could still attend school, these were made from corrugated iron using donated money from the Birkdale School in the UK. The classrooms were full with the younger kids still eager to learn with waving hands and cheery smiles.

In the now repaired main building of four floors we visited some of the classes. The teachers didn't mind us saying hello, taking photos and asking a few questions. The classes I visited were learning trigonometry and science. I asked if they wanted to be scientists and most of them shouted yes. I asked one girl why and she said she wanted to make Nepal a better place - what better answer could she give! I said it was a brilliant reply, and that those who did not want to be scientists could still make Nepal a better place by being a good leader and helping people (perhaps I could have said managing the roads would be a good start!) I went on to say that I came from London, which they all knew about, and said I worked in Brussels. The puzzled looks on their faces suggested I needed to say more and it turned out they had at least heard of Belgium and the European Union.

They get lots of their information via the Internet, which they have access to at home. It surprised me to learn that about that; so even though they come from poor families, the Internet is seen as a very important source to learn from.

Their eagerness to learn was impressive, packed in 20 in each small classroom, the teacher moving between three different classes teaching the same material. While the teacher was away, the kids behaved perfectly, doing the work that had been set for them during his presence. The Headmaster said that a few of the really bright ones go on to be doctors, engineers, etc, studying overseas after graduating from this school and doing their high school diplomas somewhere else in Nepal.

What impressed me most about the kids was that they all want to 'be' and they see education as the path to get there. School kids in the developed world could learn much from their attitude.

We walked around the village after leaving the school and the evidence of the quakes is even more apparent than in the Capital. Piles of bricks - all that remains of some houses - lie at the sides of the streets, often in between other buildings left standing, usually these were made with reinforced concrete structures. I call it a village, but it's unusual (for me at least) to see four or five storey blocks there. Some look very unstable and top heavy, but ironically these survived, while the older, lower brick houses collapsed. This is a village close to Nepal and it's clear to see the aid money is struggling to get even this far. Families have been given about 130 dollars by the government to rebuild their houses; with bricks at 10 cents a pop, that won't go very far. I can't imagine how villages in remote areas are coping.

We've heard stories about how much of the aid promised to Nepal is stuck in Kathmandu and sadly that the sales of large prestigious four wheel drive vehicles increased dramatically around the same time.  I hope for the sake of the people in Nepal that these will be used for relief work, not just to chauffeur around dignitaries, VIPs and tourists. No hard evidence of misdirected aid, but the rumours suggest it's happening.

Before getting back on our coach we give Mike something for the schools he works with. Here in Nepal, a little (or not so little in some cases) goes a long way. Some of the group are coming back next year, so they'll get a chance to see what's been done with the money.

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Nepal, Day 1 - Arrival, the Spectacle of Death

Arriving at Kathmandu airport and for the first ever in all my years of flying, the aircraft aborts it's landing about 50m above the runway. Nothing dramatic, just the engines suddenly throttling up again, when I expected them to feather or cut, and then we're off and away for another 20 minutes in the air while the cloud clears. The second attempt went uneventfully and generated a round of applause from the back of the plane. Turkish Airlines are pretty decent on the whole. Flew with them to Mongolia as well and they're reasonably priced; Biker Dom gives his thumbs up.  

Tending the pyre as it burns down. The full process takes six hours or so.

Loading the pyre with ghee (butter)

Washing the body's feet

Preparing the body

Spectators gallery

Loading the body on the pyre

Smoke obscured spectators

Clearing away the previous ashes and launching 'steam ships'

Bringing the body to the pyre

The galleries opposite the cremation area

Even the monkeys are fascinated

Circulating the body

From one near death experience to the real thing. Steve, Alan and myself spent a moving afternoon at the Pashupatinath Temple.  There, they cremate the dead by the side of a small river running through the temple complex. I've been to cremations before, private sober affairs, but this was the Channel 4 documentary version in full view of the public and played out on the steps guiding the river's path. This to some degree has also been commercialised, with water sellers touting for trade and fortune tellers and palm readers doing their stuff for the growing viewers. The cremation itself costs 15,000 rupees, more than many people make in a year; it's big business.  Dogs and monkeys fight amongst themselves to see who is top dog at the site (in my mind the monkeys have it, but the dogs are definitely noisier.)

The body is brought to the river bank wrapped in a cloth. Prayers and devotions are performed before the body is taken down the steps to the water where feet and face are washed and the person is 'decorated ' with vermilion red, rice and such like in various phases. At some point the body is ceremoniously fed and given a drink too. The body is moved away from the immediate edge and more prayers are performed, with mourners circulating, hands in prayer. At this stage the wailing starts with very real tears and emotions not held back for the watching audience. And it is an audience. High above the preparation area there's a viewing balcony and across the river, we're sitting on steps, absorbing the atmosphere and taking pictures. It feels weird to be part of a very personal process, but this is normal here, perhaps even expected. 

While this is going on, the pyre is built, after first having cleared the embers from the previous pyre. These are pushed into the river unceremoniously, and watching them drift down the river hissing and fizzing like hyperactive mini steam boats, is an interesting sight. 

The body is taken and rested on the stack of prepared logs and precut sticks and then more sticks and logs are laid on top with dry straw. And then it's lit. At first nothing much is visible, a little smoke perhaps from the straw as it catches. After ten minutes our so the flames start to appear through the top and by then the smoke becomes more intense. The pyre attendant adds pre-packaged ghee blocks at strategic points to help fuel the process, all the while the feet protrude eerily from the mass of combustibles. It seems to take an age for the pyre to really go up in flames.

Moving to a vantage point on a bridge overlooking the pyre, at one point the smoke drifts in my direction.  It may surprise you to learn that there's no unusual smell, no burning flesh, its just wood and straw.  I'm guessing that's a result of the things they add to the pyre.  

Looking down directly into the pyre through a gap in flames and I can see right to the embers at the base, just above the feet.  There should be a leg there, but all I can see is a blackened stick; I realise it's a leg bone.  Wow, I'm surprised how quickly the flesh is consumed, but not shocked.

What I did find shocking was the fact that everything is discarded into the river, not just the ashes, but clothes, and even plastic wrappers from things like the decoration rice and vermilion. some of it is recovered downstream by scavengers, but the bulk drifts off to wherever.  As a result the river is disgustingly filthy.  Upstream there's a small barrier and it is encrusted in plastic and other river-borne detritus. It's truly saddening that the river is treated like a waste disposal facility and it's a real shame for Nepal.

Nepal, Day 2 - Sightseeing Day, Heading Back to School

The ride starts tomorrow, so it's potentially another day of sightseeing in Kathmandu. However, this morning one of our group, Glenn (someone I've not met before) has arranged a visit to a school in a 'nearby' village. The school was badly damaged during the two recent Earthquakes and we're going to see for ourselves, and if we can, to provide some humanitarian aid, direct to where it's needed, not via an aid agency. We've been hearing stories about how some of the relief aid, that flowed in after the Earthquakes, is stuck in Kathmandu, but more of that later.

However, maybe not the best day to choose to drive through Kathmandu. Gridlock; roads closed and total chaos with cars, vans, trucks, bikes and our bus, driving seemingly in random directions like ants in a nest, but in slow, slow motion..... and with horns! Toot-toot, tooooot, we're definitely back on the sub-continent.

As I type, we are still stuck in traffic after having done a U-turn at the end of a muddy lane. Now we're back in the jam, no closer to our destination. I hope we get back in time for the ride tomorrow!


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Nepal, a new trip - A Right Royal Recce in the Himalayas

For the next two weeks, Biker Dom will be going back to his mountain roots and riding the mighty Himalayas again.  He said he'd be back and true to his word he is.  This time he'll be in Nepal (or should that be Nepalia, as every trip so far has been to an "...ia"), and once again he'll be riding that Indian classic, the Royal Enfield Bullet.

Nepal's topography.  Lots of mountains including Everest!

The trip is organised by the Nomadic Knights and is a last minute reconnaissance ride to investigate a potential new tour for their company.  Our intended tour had originally planned to head into Tibet from Kathmandu and we would have visited the Everest Base Camp on the Chinese side. Alas, the People's Liberation Army have closed the road for repairs, so we won't be able to enter Tibet at all. That will have to wait for another day....

For now we'll have to content ourselves with the high peaks, spectacular views, fresh air and the altitude of Nepal. Not to mention the awesome comradery of a bunch of like minded fools.  Who said second best had to be second best?  Ride on Biker Dom, the hills await. Oh, and so do Martin, Danny, Graham, Gerard, Hugo, Mick, Mark, Alan, Matt, Chris and Steve; not to mention Alex and his damn whistle!

Now, back to packing, my flight leaves at midday tomorrow; from Zaventem....  Umm, I'd best leave now perhaps?

Spain - Three days at the Adventure Rider Centre

In between the longer pseudo-enduro adventures, Biker Dom is taking the opportunity get some proper training in riding a bike off-road. A bit late you might think, but it's never to late to improve one's skills. Young Mark has arranged a three-day trip to the Adventure Rider Centre in Mijas, Spain, run by Baz and Kaz, and ably assisted by Andreas and Ian. Together they will run Mark, Steve, Chris, Martin and I through your paces to touch up our off-road skills, and make us do things we never thought you could do; on two wheels that is.

Ready for the off, literally!

Our three days started by getting kitted out in suitable clothing and protective gear and the ARC is well equipped with the best kit from Klim, Forcefield and Alpinestars. Needless to say, Biker Dom was nicely colour coordinated in grey with a hint of yellow and red.

In parallel, we take our pick of the bikes, a good mix of Husaberg 250 and 450 four-strokes, and 250 and 300 two strokes. The hooligans choose two strokes and we see Baz and Martin elect to be stinkers. Once in our gear, we set off down the lanes of Mijas and before we know it Baz, the leader, shows us his playground. Or rather an area of his playground, because in reality the whole of the Mijas surrounds and beyond is his playground!

The first few kms or so, we're all familiarising ourselves with the bikes, the clutch bite points, the feel of the brakes and gears, the traction and the suspension. I don't mind telling you Biker Dom was full of trepidation for the morning, I'd say he was a right wuss.

In the beginners playground we're taught how to climb hills and more importantly, how to descend them in full control. It's all in the hips, pushing them forwards for uphill sections legs almost straight, forcing our weight into the pegs to find traction, and on the downhill sections moving the hips back. And counter to almost everything we've experienced over the last few years, we're taught to use the front brake for descents. It's amazing how much grip there is from a well weighted and dug-in knobbly tyre and even on 45 degree slopes, you can almost stop mid-slope.

You're joking, right?

After Baz is confident we have the basics we spend the day on a variety of other tracks, trails and hills, up and down, in and out, all over the area. We stop for snacks and lunch a couple of times, but otherwise it's pretty much full on all day: just how we like it!

At this altitude, it must be the Himalayas?

By the afternoon, Biker Dom is in the swing of things and we all end the day drained but exhilarated. Today we've riden through Cambodia, Bolivia, the Himalayas, parts of Patagonia as well as swanky golf course is Southern California.... at least that's the way it feels; the beauty of this area is the variety of terrains and environments in a relatively small area and I'm continually surprised by what awaits us around every corner.

Somewhere in Cambodia?  Feels like it

We file into the ARC compound and feast on snacks and cools drinks as we unwind and exchange stories of our exploits during the day. We managed to stay unscathed with no offs, which is always a good thing.... maybe we weren't trying hard enough?  Even Mark manage not to kill his bike.... now there's a first!

Turns out Biker Dom was riding with a broken shoulder! Two weeks earlier two successive falls onto the same arm resulted in a nasty shoulder injury on the ski slopes. Four weeks later and after a few more days on snow, he finally decides to visit the doctor and an X-ray shows the damage.  Fracture of the upper tuberosity; healing well, but the doctor says BD must rest.....  No riding, no skiing and no lifting.   Right.


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Patagonia..... and then there was one

Last leg of my journey home and I said my goodbyes to Mark at Madrid airport - two grown men with beards hugging in the business lounge must be an unusual sight!

Relatively short flight ahead, 2hrs vs the 12 from Santiago (another bum massage needed - not that I got one the first time you understand!).

This will be the final post for this trip (unless I feel an urge to review the 1200GS I rode there, and maybe one about what made Biker Dom), so I'll wrap-up a few points.

Thanks to all my buddies for giving me another head full of fantastic memories. I met some good new friends Ray, Graham, Tpong and AJ, and caught up with old friends, Cory, Steve, Danny, Gerard, Brett, Hugo, Mick, Mark and Christopher. Duff I think deserves a special mention for putting up with my messiness over the last few weeks; my 'stuff' managed to fill more than my fair share of each room we occupied. And he put up with my random music choices played through my 'monkey' speaker during the evenings and mornings, not to mention the dancing and prancing; I'm sure he'll never be able to listen to Shania Twain in the same way again!

Our trip to Patagonia has been less of an adventure trip and more of a group tour as it primarily consisted of good quality tarmac; sure we had gravel, but on well prepared bases. Previous trips have shown we are capable of dealing with more technical conditions and all of us have become better riders since then. We've covered 4200km (me 4300km because of the day ride in Ushuaia), which is way more than any of our other journeys. But those trips were generally shorter, eight to 12 days rather than the 16 of this trip.

So what constitutes an adventure trip? Well, we discussed this briefly during the weeks and decided an impromptu yardstick is that hotels with wifi and mostly well made roads signify a tour, while tents and/or remoteness from wifi and a significantly higher off-road content qualify as adventures. That would be all the previous trips then. This was still immensely enjoyable but in a different way. In my mind one thing that pointed firmly at tour rather than adventure was that the bikes were too good (give or take a 650cc twin). Take my 1200GS, which was the very latest model; it often meant I was on 'tippy toes' to avoid dropping the bike whereas faster would have actually been more appropriate and safer. The other bikes were also mostly in good condition and we faced hefty bills for ANY damage we caused. This is because MotoAventuraChile run a tight ship to cater for the US riders who expect and demand a higher standard and are prepared to pay for it. Personally I prefer rough and ready bikes with character and some 'history', ie a few dents here and there.

So, the flight's about to land, hopefully my bike will still be at the airport for Biker Dom's 'tour' back to Waterloo. Can't wait to say "Honey, I'm Home!". Yes, I've had a few hard days.

Thanks for reading....... Until next time! ;-)

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Patagonia, Day 17 - trip over, the return to reality

The anticipated late start didn't materialise as we agreed to all meet at 7am for breakfast and goodbyes to those on the early flight. Group hugs, and with the first few gone, most of us had a few hours to kill before we had to leave. Except Steve and Gerard who had planned to stay an extra day to do some penguin watching, only, they already did that. And the alternative whale watching tours had been cancelled due to bad weather (although it was ok here). Several calls to tourist info places yesterday drew blanks to other options. So, Punta Arenas was their oyster for the day and ours for the morning.

Fun packed it was not. Punta Arenas is basically closed on Sundays and after seeing the very unusual cemetery (multi-storey graves), the local supermarket and a walk through the town (statue of Fernando Magellan), the bitter wind got the better of me and I sought refuse back at the hotel. Some of the others had coffee and churros at a burger place, and then found a chocolate cafe to while away the minutes. We all met back at the hotel for 1pm when the next group was due to leave.

Multi-storey graves in the Municipal Cemetery

Fernando de Magellanes

More hugs, slaps on back, etc and we too were off to the airport, leaving Gerard, Steve, Christopher and Tpong to entertain themselves with all Punta Arenas has to offer on a Sunday. Which is not much as even the local museum is closed until Tuesday. Enjoy the wind and rain boys!

Huge queues at the airport with only three desks open and self check-in machines crashed, but Mark, Duff, Brett and I made our flight. It's not left yet; hopefully Mark and I will arrive at Santiago in time for our early connection to Madrid.....

The trip is definitely over. Back to reality.

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