Why Nepal needs to be at the top of your Adventure Motorcycling List?

Imagine your perfect destination for an adventure ride: what characteristics would this place possess? Awe-inspiring scenery? A road network from which every straight stretch of tarmac has been banished to some other land? How about food? Would you opt for bland? Of course you wouldn’t. And finally, there are the people. Do they embody an innate kindness and a welcoming, inquisitive nature toward strangers like you? If these attributes tick the boxes of your adventure motorcycling ideal, welcome. Welcome to Nepal.

Piqued your interest? Well please read on. The rest of you can return to ‘The Motorcyclist’s Guide to Route 66’.

Let’s start where most of us do, Kathmandu. An ancient metropolis of infamous lore, the jumping off and re-entry point of most trail trekkers, base campers and summiteers and the epicenter of incidental oriental/occidental hippie-dom, Kathmandu is mesmerizing. Come for the beautiful World Heritage sites of Durbar square, the heaving backpacker crunch of Thamel or just to tell your friends that you’re going to Kathmandu so you can watch them tilt their heads in curious dog fashion as they try to remember where Kathmandu is. This is a city with a buzz that never stops. Satiated with a big taste of this wonderland, let the ride begin.

Now show me a person who tells me that getting out of a large Asian city is easy and I will show you a liar. Bangkok, Delhi, Phnom Penh, Kathmandu: doesn’t matter. Extricating your good self from any of them is always an ordeal. Whether you find this wearisome or gorge on it like the most fucked up video game ever, that’s your jam. It is and will always be an essential part of the Asian riding experience. But as the carnage wanes, and wane it will, you will quickly find yourself in a 1,000 km state of nirvana. For if curvy roads are what you seek, and as a motorcyclist, it is indeed your purpose (if not, please refer to ‘The Motorcyclist’s Guide to Route 66’, above) you have reached the Promised Land. The 200 kilometers of mountainous, twisty ribbon from Kathmandu to Pokhara is a particular miracle stretch. The road may bulge a bit with the thunder of 20-ton Tata trucks but if you are lucky and the weather gods are smiling down on you, keep your neck slightly craned to the right as you ride. See those majestic peaks? Those aren’t just mountains, my friend. THOSE are the Himalayas and there is scarcely one that doesn’t surpass 20,000ft (6,000m) in elevation. Maybe one day you’ll scale a couple but for now, just smile and drink it in as you wind your way toward Pokhara.

Concentrated around the southern shore of Phewa Lake, Pokhara is Nepal’s adventure playground. From here you can set off on your trek to the Annapurna Range, crack your skull on a white water rafting expedition, plan your hiking route to the remote region of Mustang, engage in the faux-danger of zip-lining or grab your last of real pizza before you move on to realms of Nepal with less Gringo density. A beautiful town on a serene lake with views of the Himas that will melt your mind, Pokhara knows its function and serves it with aplomb.

With Nepal’s two largest urban civilizations in the rear view, the roads take a turn for the divine. That is because as you head south toward the mountain town of Tansen, you have been unshackled from the main artery that connects the Kathmandu and Pokhara. The traffic dissipates, the massive trucks seem purged and all that stands between your front wheel and the medieval town of Tansen is 6 hours of twisty curvy rollercoasterdom though forested landscapes and lovely villages settled by lovely people. A night in Tansen is to teleport to the real Nepal. No backpacker bars, no pizza joints, no North Face outlets. Coming here is an intention, not a consequence, and the people you meet there – housing you, feeding you momos, giving you advice on the best off road trails – these people will be happy to see you and their kindness is infectious.

Leaving Tansen, as tough as it may seem, does have its rewards. For the first 50km heading south toward Lumbini is, according to my ride notes, ‘a traffic-less amusement park ride through some of the most beautiful mountain & valley landscapes conceivable by nature.’ As you leak elevation from 2,400m down to 400m and level off on the valley floor that will eventually become India’s state of Uttar Pradesh, bam: back to reality. Flat, straight & congested, the withdrawal symptoms as the mountains recede may at first feel like someone pulled a plastic bag over your head and is choking you out but if you just chill the fuck out and meditate for a minute, you’ll be fine for you have landed at the home of the Buddha. No spiritual place I have visited short of perhaps the Golden Temple of Amritsar transports one to a state of sublime tranquility like the Maya Devi Temple. This simple, four-sided structure encloses and protects the foundations of the house that was the birthplace of Siddharta Gotama, the mortal man who would become the divine Buddha.

Recharged, we aim higher. The flatland can be kind of dull so after our Zen time we set a course for Chitwan National Park and our third ecosystem in 500km: First mountains, then plains and now, the lush forest and jungles of one of the most diverse and wildlife rich sanctuaries in all Asia. It takes 7 hours to navigate the 154km back up to the foothills of the Himalayas but you won’t complain about it, not for a minute. That is because this road is an off-roading gift waiting to be discovered. On a whim, we took a dirt track off the main road and were fabulously rewarded with a 20km ride through forests, rocky trails and several rivers just begging to be forded. And ford we did. Nothing elicits more of a fuck yeah moment than slashing your front tire through the rapids, defying the torrent and arriving upright and unmolested on the other shore.

Chitwan gives you an opportunity to create some separation between you and that machine you’ve come to love. An open-jeep safari to explore wild rhinos, elephants, leopards and tigers in a pristine sanctuary all their own? Yes please. And when you are sitting on the observation platform at dusk watching anxiously as a 5 meter croc silently stalks a wild boar and the waiter gently whispers ‘another gin and tonic, sir?’ ‘Yes please.’

On the final surge back to Kathmandu and home base you will ascend without reprieve. It takes a lot of hairpins bends to deliver you and your machine from 500m to 2,500 in a stretch of only 150 km so do your best to disguise your glee. Giddy is not a cool look. We rise and rise until we reach the hilltop village of Daman. It is here that you will befriend the most cuddly local dogs south of Everest (definitely a cool look), elbow your friends for a spot next to the small stove and single source of heat in the mountaintop lodge and snag one of the best views of Everest to be had anywhere in the entire nation of Nepal, save for perhaps the summit of Everest itself.

And there you have it. Of course, this is not all of Nepal. But the 1,000km in 12 days will give you a cross-section of all of the best that this exotic country has to offer. Arid plains, sub-tropical jungles, alpine forests, muddy trails, rocky climbs, raging rivers, crocs, rhinos, pythons, buddhas. And Everest.

If those voices in your head are coaxing you to get two wheels underneath you and experience something truly incredible, the Himalayan nation of Nepal has truly got it all.

Join us in Nepal this spring and fall at Two Wheeled Expeditions – Nepal

If you don’t know Kerala, it’s a thin slice of coastal and mountain landscape running along the southwestern coast of India. It is buffeted by the warm winds of the Arabian Sea to the west and sheltered by the Western Ghats mountain range to the east. It is considered one of the most tranquil parts of India where the heaving buzz of ‘horning’ traffic and all-consuming pollution in much of the rest of the country are pleasantly scarce. Above all, it is green. From the tea plantations of Munnar to the rich jungles of Ooty, the deeply verdant landscape puts your mind at ease.

The ride profile is sea – mountains – sea setting off from the old Portuguese colony of Fort Cochin then running south along to the coast to Alleppey and the downtempo serenity of the Backwaters. The route then heads northeast to the Western Ghats and the heart of tea country in Munnar. From there it gets wild with rides through the Anamalai Tiger Reserve, Avalanche Valley and Silent Valley National Park. Finally the route loops back south along the coast to Kannur Beach for a night before returning the Himalayan to the Uber driver I rented it from in Cochin. (Long story) One thousand curvaceous kilometers to take in the best of this beautiful corner of the subcontinent and all the coconut fish curry I can consume.

Now, to the curves and a philosophical question: why do we riders love them so much? Is it because they tend to exist in magical, mountainous landscapes of forest, jungle and desert? Is it because of the way we get into a beautiful rhythm with the exit of each flowing curve setting up the entry to the next in perpetual synchronization? Is it the lean angles we experience as we toss human and machine side to side through each undulation? We know, of course, that it is all of these and more. It’s why we go out of our way to find these roads, to build race courses that emulate them and to develop video games that simulate them. The stretche that lead to Valaparai in the Analamai Tiger Reserve is one such mecca.

When you enter the Tiger Reserve from the north and pass through its gates, the existence of man subsides except for the signs indicating ‘Hairpin Bend X of 40’. For those inquiring minds, a tiger mauling is fairly unlikely. There are only 30 or so living in this 1,500 square kilometer sanctuary and they are free to roam far from any trace of humans. You may however encounter wild elephants traversing your path (warning signs abound) and you will encounter hundreds of marauding long tail macaques. These little monkey bastards will steal anything given the chance so be sure to secure everything should you happen to take respite anywhere in their realm.

Through the portal and onward into the park, the gradual 1,500 meter elevation climb begins with Hairpin Bend 1 of 40. Taking time to absorb the sheer mountain face extending skyward, I’m awestruck by the engineering prowess of the people who built it. The hairpins are true switchbacks: each one completely reverses your course and brings you no more than 20 meters higher than the last. On a small engine, low torque bike the Himalayan, this means first gear for each one of them and many, many gear changes on the stretches between. Like pressing your face against the window in a jetliner, the details of the valley floor become microscopic as you climb. Ears pop, the temperature plummets, the flora shifts from valley scrub to tropical density to deciduous forest.

Around halfway up, the jungle yields to tea plantations. These estates, seemingly infinite as they roll over the horizon, are gold for photographers. As meticulously manicured as the gardens of Versailles, they illuminate the most luxurious green our eyes can render. The small pathways through them create a patchwork like the spots of a leopard and create definition that brings out each undulation of the landscape. The only breaks in the pattern are the brightly colored clothing of the pickers, women mostly, as they toil in the foliage plucking each leaf individually and load them into the sacks on their backs.  At about this point, the Waterfall Tea Planation maintains an ornately decorated tea stall on the side of the road offering a dozen overly sugared varieties to shock my system from the twisty trance that has held my mind hostage for the last 90 minutes.

From turn 20 onward, the road is less a cliffside-etched ribbon and more an oscillation between jungle and tea planation. Entering into the mist-osphere, the cloud covers obfuscates and the pangs for arrival and a glass of wine emerge. My end destination for the day, Sina Dorai’s Bungalow, is nested on a hilltop and is reached after negotiating 4 km of agricultural tracks upon departing the main road. Each meter winds though the plantation revealing up close the beauty of the place. The bungalow reached, I am pleasantly enlightened by the fact that this is not a bungalow in the American sense, but rather a 100-year-old estate manor, beautifully maintained with period details and views in every direction.

At dinner, the whole staff of the restaurant catering to this party of one, I surreptitiously extract the cheap bottle of Indian wine from my bag, pour a glass, take a sip along with a mild gag and savor the sublime spot that the 40 hairpin bends have transported me to. Tomorrow I get to do it all again on another of Kerala’s serpentine miracles. And again and again and again.

If you’re interested in trying out Kerala for yourself, join us! Kerala Expeditions

Starting from the moment you step off the plane, India is intense. The pace, the noise, the smells – the senses are immediately overloaded. And of course, 99.99% of foreign visitors choose to avoid a ‘two-wheeler’ as their mode of transport. But you are cut from a different cloth.

To help you find harmony in the country as you explore its magic, I have have assembled some nuggets of wisdom known as “Principles for Keeping you Sane and Safe on the Road”.

1. Patience will set you free – The first principle is also the most important. India is a frustrating world if you expect things to happen quickly and efficiently. So when you pull up to the nice hotel you’ve booked and the security guard informs you that you cannot enter the compound because you’re on a ‘two-wheeler,’ take a breath and roll with it. Eventually you’ll get the hang of it.

2. Everyone is not trying to kill you (although it will seem they are) – A person on a two-wheeler is automatically relegated to the lower castes. You will understand this the first time you ride on a highway and are forced to the shoulder by a bus driver hanging inches from your taillight. Our best advice is not to fight it: A TATA truck weighs 40,000lbs; you weigh 650. Yield and enjoy the ride.

3. Horn and be horned – Horning is a national pastime in India. It is essentially an affirmation that ‘I am here’ so please don’t kill me. During one of my longest rides, the horn on my BMW packed up. You will never feel more exposed to danger on the road in India as a motorbike rider without a horn. Without one, you simply do not exist. Horn, and horn often.

4. The Law of 3’s – As part of your daily ritual of waking up, eating dal and chapatis, packing your shit and setting off to where you will sleep that night, you will inevitably pass through 2 or 3 towns. These towns will resemble the textbook definition of chaos. In some you will be posed with a decision. Do I go left, do I go right, or do I go straight? There will not be any signs. Or at least any signs you can read. Maybe your GPS will work. Maybe it won’t. So you will have to ask for directions. Chances are, the directions will be wrong. The trick is to ask 3 times. Pull over, seek out the most educated looking person you can find (many lower caste people have not strayed far from their home so asking directions to a place 100km away is like asking them how to get to Mars – so don’t ask a guy driving an ox cart), and ask them if this is the road to your next destination. (An Indian ‘yes’ nod looks a lot like a Western ‘no’ shake so make sure you get this right.) Set off a 100 ft and look for the next educated looking person. Ask the same question. Now you get it. Do this one more time. The reason for the Law of 3’s is that you can double verify the initial instruction. After setting off 40km in the wrong direction one day, making the difference between a night time versus daylight arrival, I became an avid fan of the Law of 3’s.

5. The Law of 100’s – No matter how hard you try, averaging over 100 miles (160 km) per day seems to be impenetrable. Traffic, getting lost (see rule 9), animal/mineral/vegetable based obstacles will all conspire to constrain you to the Law of 100. Plan accordingly.

6. Never, ever get comfortable – Invariably you will find yourself on a stretch of road devoid of cows and tractors and feel inclined to settle back, relax and roll the throttle. It is then that an unmarked speed bump will send you lofting out of your seat. Oncoming vehicles in your lane, camels, dogs, unmanned police barricades, crater-sized potholes…the list is endless. All of these will send you into a ditch. Stay alert!

7. Enfield, mighty Enfield – Enfields are made for India. They have vintage style, are tough, reliable and can be fixed by anyone, anywhere. Love your mighty Enfield.

8. Beware the night – This one is a no brainer. Your chances of being in a nighttime accident are three times higher than when the sun is up. This risk is exponentially higher in India where streetlights are rare, trucks regularly run without tails lights and muddy cows grazing burning garbage on the side of the road are almost invisible. Get to your next waypoint before sundown.

9. Get Lost – Although it may stand in contradiction to the Law of 3’s, getting lost often leads to adventure as long as it doesn’t violate Principle #8. A small miscalculation en route back to Delhi from Jaisalmer led us through Shekhwati, a beautiful and oddly untouristed region of some of the most inspiring havelis (traditional, courtyard endowed mansions usually artfully adorned with hand-painted frescos) I have seen anywhere. Let the adventure unfold!

10. Laugh. A lot. – I have never laughed so hard as when we were delayed at a railway crossing. With both barricades down and warning lights flashing, both sides of the track amassed a directly opposed swarm of every conceivable form of transport: from 20-ton trucks to camel-drawn carts. When the bells ceased and the barriers were raised, the ensuing carnage was like a scene out of Braveheart. The two sides clashed over the tracks in a gargantuan tangle with horns blaring and paint scraping. Scenes like this repeat themselves over and over again. Enjoy it, for this, is why you came.

Camel racing in the Thar Desert

 

Ten years ago, about a third of the way through a seven-month, 27 country around the world motorcycle ride, I encountered three Swedish riders in Phnom Penh. Like me, they were riding battle-scarred BMW GS’s around the world so we settled into an extended 8-beer session about our experiences including brushes with mortality on the road. I had been underway in Southeast Asia for about 6 weeks and Cambodia was testing me. The 120km, eight-hour journey through single-track mud bogs along the Mekong to Phnom Penh had been especially harrowing. When it became their turn to recount their most nerve-wracking days, their response was both unanimous and instantaneous: India.

I laughed. Surely it could not be as diabolical, as merciless as the Mekong. One month later, after crossing the border from Nepal into India, I wrote these words:

“Pulverized is the only way to describe how I feel after my first two days of riding in India. The border crossing from Nepal passed quickly and a grin of relief came over me as I picked up speed and rolled south through the straight rural lanes over the flat plains of northern Uttar Pradesh. With the soft haze hanging over the landscape, the green rice fields turning orange as they vanished off into the dusky distance, the scene was dreamlike. But with the arrival of the first town, Gorakhpur, the pastoral calm was angrily replaced by vehicular carnage. The unmarked streets heaved like a twisted orgy and every foot was gained only with the greatest exertion of physical and mental strength. Cars, buses, trucks, rickshaws, cows, people, oxcarts all thrown together in a reckless, polluted clusterfuck of insanity, knocking, banging, jolting and all the time, laying on their horns as if their hearts would stop beating if they ceased. The density on the road is so great, I barely have enough space on the sides of the bike to put my feet down when we stop. The battle fires on all of the senses with such amplitude, I literally thought I would explode. My teeth are being ground to the nubs.”

Since that first encounter and dozens of rides later I’ve callused up a bit. But the shock has not subsided and neither has the awe. Yes, you can blow your mind on two wheels in other parts of the world. But here are 5 good reasons why India trumps them all:

1. The Explosion Factor – Nothing makes you feel more alive than flogging a bike through maximum Delhi traffic. Every one of your senses is turned to level 10 and the whole scene becomes one of the most enjoyable video games on the planet.

2. The Diversity Factor – There is not one India but many. Rajasthan offers the vast Thar Desert, endless architectural marvels and the exotica of the ancient spice routes – camels included. Kerala lures with winding switchbacks through verdant jungles. And Ladakh transports you to the top of the world to a dual-sport heaven on Earth.

3. The Cultural Factor – Riding through open landscapes in North America, Africa and Central America is a thrill. But nothing matches 4,500 years of cultural, architectural and spiritual evolution. You can visit the country a dozen times and each time it is a new adventure.

4. The Food Factor – Ah yes, the food. Although each region has its own distinct culinary traits, one thing can be said of India cooking universally: The myriad spices, techniques and ingredients ensures that it is never, ever boring.

5. And finally, the Wow Factor – India can be a very overwhelming place. Your ears, nose and mouth never seem to get a day off. But with time, the sense of overload moderates and transforms to a sense of fulfillment. You feel more fulfilled because no day is ever like the last. Whether it’s racing a camel in the desert to sleeping under the stars on a remote sand dune to drinking tea in a high jungle hill station, India amazes.

Let’s not sugar coat it though: Whether it be on the highways, in its cities or in rural villages, India is a place where to be born weak is to subsist on the ruthlessly dark fringe of existence. But in the paradox that for me defines the place, India is the by far most magical country you will ever visit. It has the capacity to make you gasp for breath at its architectural beauty, to charm you with the mosaic of its peoples and culture, and seduce you with its history and the religions that are core to life. And on two wheels exposed to everything it can throw at you, you will leave incredible India a transformed person.

Royal Enfield currently holds the world record for being the largest selling big bike (350cc and above). With each passing year those numbers increase by 700,000! Some say its because these motorcycles were supplied to the Indian military and hence have an unmatched loyalty. Others claim it’s the abundant labor and lack of competition that gave them the edge.

There is no dearth of explanations one can find from Enfield owners or online posts but the one reason that has never been mentioned is that it got where it did today because their bikes were “purpose built”.

Until of course, in early 2016, when Royal Enfield launched a single cylinder, air-cooled, 4-stroke motorcycle that was created entirely in-house. To avoid any confusion about the direction for this bikes purpose, they named it the “Himalayan”.

The honeymoon period in the first year saw the expected list of niggles such as poor parts and gear not shifting properly. As long time fans we knew this from all their previous launches so we waited till those issues got sorted, the carburetor got replaced with the EFI and few more sensors thrown in.

Then to stay true to Royal Enfield’s philosophy of taking their bikes to places it wasn’t designed to go we rode the Himalayan into the Thar Desert.

The 1035 odd miles had us going from the highway into the less known back roads playing chicken with the bulls and cows and the occasional camel. When compared with the Royal Enfield Desert Storm, what the Himalayan lacks in its “thump” sound and classic looks, it makes up in with its comfortable stance.

The Desert Storm took the lead when both opened up the throttle on the highway. But it was when we had to ride over gravel, mud and sand that the Himalayan breezed past its Classic cousins.

Ultimately when you are in India your motorcycle will have to endure roads and challenges that are beyond its “purpose” on paper. That is usually when the real adventure begins. And at the end of the day, watching the surreal sunset over the dunes with a cup of chai in your hand, one can only wonder if all this talk of “purpose-built” isn’t really about motorcycles but us as well.

Joshua John writing from New Delhi