The Post Pandemic Adventure Rider

Thanks to the pandemic, some things may take a while before they return, if they ever do. Crowd surfing at a live concert, eating without care on busy streets, or hanging around to say “bless you!” after someone sneezes still seem part of the distant future.

For most of us, traveling has been restricted and reduced to either going through old photos or exploring our backyard or rooftop. During this time, incessant research on our dream ride has been our primary way to cope with the travel ban.

But the travel industry will resume in time because it plays a key role in people’s mental wellbeing and sense of purpose. And one of the first types of travelers who are most likely to get back on the road is the adventure motorcyclist. Research shows that 75% of travelers are seeking remote destinations with fewer people. Something adventure bikers around the world have been pursuing ever since motorcycles were invented.

The question is, how will adventure travel in India and Nepal be different compared to pre-lockdown back in March 2020? Here are some plausible predictions as we anticipate travel reopening eventually.

More personal space. In theory, you may get a little more than elbow room now that social distancing has been drilled into us for over a year. This does not mean traffic becomes any less chaotic or interesting in the billion-plus nation of India and 29 million in Nepal. It just means that a bunch of bikers having chai on the roadside won’t gather a crowd of curious onlookers in under 30 seconds.

Less “chalta-hai” attitude. This common Hindi saying implies an easy-going and nonchalant approach to everything. “Chalta-hai” is about making do with the bare minimum. The “new normal” may make that attitude less acceptable. For adventure bikers, it could mean not leaving things to chance but doing due diligence. From getting vaccinated, being first-aid trained, to learning basic motorcycle repair and maintenance, being better-prepared will ensure a less worrisome ride. For those posting their trip online, expect to be held accountable for how responsibly you travel and not just where you ride.

 

More empathy. As riders head out this summer there will be a heightened awareness of their privilege to be able to do so. To show their gratitude many may support NGOs working with the marginalized or take up a local social cause. The recent past has made it clear that even the smallest act of kindness can make a massive difference. Leaving only the paid professionals to navigate through the post-pandemic wreckage isn’t an option for the healthy, no matter what their profession. And as bikers pave the way for other tourists to return, the hospitality industry will hopefully begin to view them as partners in reviving tourism and there would also be more unity in the adventure motorcycling ecosystem.

 

These are sobering times, especially as India and Nepal continue to wrestle with the second wave of the pandemic. Much has changed, a lot has been pruned and shaken off and most of us have come to some conclusion about what we want to cherish and nurture. Besides family, community, and our vocation, one of the things many of us hold onto is the inexplicable desire to ride out on a motorcycle adventure once again.

You’ve made the decision to cut the cord for a year and are ready to circumnavigate the globe at ground level. You’re handed the keys to two vehicles: A kitted out Unimog RV offering all of the comforts of home and a well broken-in, purpose-hardened BMW GS. What do you do?

The debate amongst overland adventurers as to the vehicle best suited to the task of crunching kilometres across every conceivable terrain has raged for years. The chosen tool for the task has cut across the vehicular spectrum ranging from the sublime to the absurd. A Tuk-Tuk, a bicycle, a Suzuki Hayabusa, a London Taxi, a Vespa scooter and a cracked out minvan, to name but a few, have survived to tell the tale.

No judgment can be passed on any of them because each has carved out its own little niche of utility and character. But I think the essence of the debate really comes down to a simple question: two wheels or four? Well, let me count the ways of how the debate leads to a simple result. The answer is two.

 

1. It’s (relatively) portable – I was on my 3^rd straight day at Istanbul airport being led through the catacombs of the dark, dank cargo building by my paid fixer as we worked desperately to get my Triumph Tiger I’d ridden from Los Angeles onto a plane to Kuala Lumpur. When the final bribe had been paid and the last document stamped, all that remained was to get it into the ramp-less building. The diabolical solution was a long, 2” x 10” plank spanning from street level up 1.5 meters to the loading dock. Naturally, riding the 450lb bike up a narrow, flimsy stick of wood was quite terrifying but the angry cargo workers told me to do it or the bike stays in Istanbul. Trousers soiled, the bike was up the ramp and loaded into a container for the Turkish Airlines flight. Try that with a car.
   

   Uncrating the GS at Kathmandu Airport

2. It’s cheap (or can be) – Sure, you can spend USD30k on a kitted out BMW R1250 Adventure and you can spend $500 on an old VW microbus. But odds are the bike you choose will be cheaper to buy, maintain, import, export and fill with fuel. A better return on your adventure investment 9 times out of 10.
3. It’s quite easy to fix – Again here, depending on the machine you select, the difficulty of repair can be comparable. But even with a bike and a car from a similar technological era, the bike wins here simply because there are fewer things to break. Fewer wheel bearings, simpler drive train, fewer suspension components, simpler cooling & lubrication system and two fewer tires to puncture.
   

   Servicing in Shiraz, Iran

4. It provides the exhilaration of risk – There’s no way to mask the reality that motorcyclists are cut from a different cloth. One of the reasons we gravitate toward bikes is the lack of protection and exposure to the elements. The risk of dying is part of what makes us feel alive.
   

   Riding my Bullet in the Thar Desert

5. It connects you with your environment – One of my saddest experiences riding a motorcycle in India was while cruising through the stunning scenery in the Thar Desert on a searingly heat hot day. Surrounded by the beautiful chaos of a swarm of camels and goats at a railway crossing, I peered up into the windows of the bus jostling next to me and saw the faces of plump tourists in their air-conditioned capsule. Sure, they were comfortable, but that’s not the point. I was on my bike as part of the scene. In their tour bus surrounded by a sound and heat-proof buffer of steel and glass, they were merely spectators. The moral here: If you want to experience our world, bust out of your cocoon.
6. It’s agile – Riding my GS one fine day on a dirt track along the Mekong River in Cambodia, I encountered an obstacle. A tributary feeding into the river necessitated negotiating a steep decline, crossing the stream and then scrambling up an incline of similar gradient. The only way out of that ravine was manpower: a half dozen villagers pushing me up the slippery slope spitting off mud from the rear tire like an angry gatling gun. No number of villagers could have managed to push a 2,000kg SUV out of that ditch. Advantage bike.
7. It feels so good – Yes, the grin factor. Do you remember the first time you rode a motorcycle? The first time you did a long road-trip? Your first wheelie? The first time you launched a dirt bike through the air or got your knee down on a racetrack? We ride because it feels good, because it makes us feel free. And no amount top-down driving in a Ford Mustang will ever touch that. As a wise woman once said, four wheels move the body, two wheels move the soul.
8. It connects you with people – In the developing world, ‘two-wheelers’ vastly outnumber cars on the road when you’re outside of cities. Local people you meet while riding down country lanes or when you take breaks in villages will more than likely be motorbike riders and as a result, be naturally curious about the foreigners exploring their part of the world. This is where the magic happens. It’s where the bike creates the connection between you and the people you meet as you explore. And isn’t this why we came in the first place?
   

   Making friends in Rajasthan

Colour me biased; I don’t care. After riding motorcycles through 40 countries and being blockaded by Maoist insurgents at the Nepali border, tracked by the religious police in Iran, escorted by the Pakistani military, lashed by a hurricane in Florida and enveloped in a blizzard in the mountains of eastern Turkey, I’ll surrender my right to comfort, protection and anonymity any day. Give me the bike.

Two Wheeled Expeditions offers adventures through Nepal, India and Sri Lanka.

‘Chai’ or tea stops are an integral part of any motorcycle ride across India. However remote the route there’s usually someone who has put their bet on opening a shack for the wandering adventurers out there.

In the Himalayan circuit, often the epic ride up to Khardungla Pass in Ladakh can be overwhelming for first timers. You’re high on adrenaline and thin on air as you go from 3500 to 5359 meters. By the time you’ve clicked that mandatory photo in front of the signboard the weather can go from sunny to a snowstorm.

As one descends to North Pullu check post, all you want is that hot cup of chai. And the Ladakhi lady I call “Didi” or elder sister is usually ready to hand me that sweet concoction after scolding me with, “where were you all this time?” I am not sure if this is her business tactic but it ensures I drink at least two cups.

Then there is Mr Dharmalingam in South India who has set up his stall on the border of Kerala and Tamil Nadu. In his heyday he was a mechanic who raced motorcycles. I am not sure exactly what happened that caused him to leave the city and live in the high ranges. One thing he does say is that running his teashop has enabled him to live a more fulfilled life.

All teashops are not alike. They are less a franchise and more a way of life, especially in rural parts of India. This is the social hub where you gossip, share & gather news, sell local produce and make ends meet with dignity. It doesn’t matter whether you are in snowy Ladakh or scorching Rajasthan – chai is always in demand.

As I found out, in spite of the sweltering humidity in northeast India’s state of Assam, I couldn’t help myself from trying out a delicious cup of you-know-what made over wood fire by another “Didi”. Thankfully she didn’t scold me even once. She couldn’t: her mouth was full of paan, a betel leaf and areca nut combo that’s popular in these parts, besides…chai, of course!

I could go on but let me end with another hot spot I like to frequent on my motorcycle trips. The western most corner of India is scarcely populated but wherever you find a small settlement, you’re sure to find a teashop. The marked difference between chai served here and rest of India is the size of the cup. They’re more like a bottle cap, which means you have to drink at least 6 cups.

Ok, that’s it folks. If you have absolutely no idea of what I’ve been on about, you can check out Roro’s how to make masala chai video. Or better still, ride across India and taste its goodness served in a cup anywhere and everywhere. And if know of a must-visit chai shop anywhere in India then please comment below and lets keep that chai love overflowing!

Often curious friends and bikers ask me if they should or could become a motorcycle tour guide. Some have clocked wild miles, vlogging, blogging and accumulating their fair share of fans along the way. Now they wonder if this could be a career option. Many also add they hate their current job and need a change. Over the years I have given all sorts of answers but here are five clues to knowing if being a fulfilled tour guide is in your future. You enjoy people, you are patient, you are curious, you have credibility and you are a grateful person.

You enjoy people

Motorcycle tours are only about motorcycles. At least that’s what everyone thinks. But a tour leader’s ultimate goal is to fulfill what was promised to the guests. And that goes beyond handing over a sound motorcycle and riding in the front.

If you genuinely enjoy people you will not be partial towards your ‘type’ of folks but be able to connect with pretty much anyone you meet along the way. You will also need to be instrumental in bringing a sense of camaraderie among the diverse bunch of riders from across various cultures and nationalities.

From restaurant waiters to hotel staff, ticket operators to guides, from shopkeepers to mechanics, wherever you go, you are dealing with people. If they aren’t happy to see you repeatedly, tour after tour, it could be that you view people as a means to an end. As mere service providers, human resource and business opportunities. And less as persons who deserve dignity for just being.

If you enjoy people you will be able to develop the right tension between caring with excellence and inspiring the same in others and never belittling anyone.

You are patient

Chances are in any tour group there will be those who will test your limits more than others. The guests could be total angels but how do you handle random tourists out to ruin your vibe? Unforeseen events like a roadblock, sudden change in weather, fuel shortage or your own mistake and oversight.

If you are the edgy type who must perpetually be in control, then being a tour leader is probably not for you. To keep leading tours you need patience. Lots of it, all the way, every day!

Patience comes as you seek reasons to celebrate people and not just endure them. Patience is not passively waiting for things to improve but taking the initiative to intervene wherever necessary. Patience requires being courageous and calm under pressure for the welfare of others, in this case, for the sake of your guests and team.

You are curious

You cannot take people where you haven’t been. For that, you must nurture a sense of healthy curiosity and keep learning. And I don’t mean you simply carry your phone around to Wikipedia everything when someone asks a question.

How do you maintain a sense of wonder for a place you may have visited dozens of times? By expecting to discover something new. Also by attempting to do something you have never tried before. It could be trying a new dish or learning the nuances of the local language or belief system.

Many years ago a bunch of Australian riders dared one another to climb up a nearby mountain to a waterfall and stand under its icy shower. It wasn’t part of the plan but I did it and you know what? It was utterly refreshing, hilarious beyond words and completely changed how I saw a familiar route.

Don’t just direct people from the sidelines like a bored school teacher, join the class party! Pay attention to the details around and to the questions that are being asked. Being curious doesn’t just happen, its nurtured daily, especially through traveling and reading. And nothing engages people like being asked to share their life and worldview.

You have credibility

The sense of connection a group feels with one another and with a place has a lot to do with the guide’s credibility. And credibility cannot be bought or earned with a swipe of a card. It is trust, respect, and authority, gained over the long haul.

Credibility is intrinsically linked with generosity. The generosity of our time, talent and our treasure. As each one of us is different so are the ways in which we can be generous. But without exception, someone with credibility is usually a generous person. They have gone above and beyond the bare minimum requirement and invested in an intentional and consistent way.

Credibility is nurtured within us before it is acknowledged and endorsed by others. Our inner conviction regarding the price and the sacrifice we are willing to make for what we value matters. Being a tour leader is an unconventional vocation and there is a price to pay to pursue this passion.

And it is strengthened as we also know that no matter what, there are things we won’t compromise on. As someone once said, “if you stand for nothing, you fall for anything”. Credibility isn’t cheap and over time it makes you a far sharper tour leader than someone who is in it for the quick thrills and cool photo ops.

You are grateful

A grateful person maximizes what they have through innovation and by inviting collaboration. A complaining person will always find fault and focus on what they don’t have. All of life is a gift. And if by some chance you get to ride a motorcycle for leisure, seize the opportunity!  Gratitude keeps a check on our sense of entitlement. It keeps us on course when things don’t go our way and keeps us humble when we are winning.

When you are grateful you don’t waste time comparing yourself with someone else’s journey. You’re glad you are where you are without perpetually chomping at the bits to be elsewhere. Gratitude for the past and the present fills us with hope for an adventure-filled future.

There are many other practical skills and requirements that I have omitted but the above 5 traits will ensure that you are truly fulfilled as a motorcycle tour leader.

Do let me know your thoughts and feedback and happy riding! Even better, join us on an expedition and experience the magic for yourself!

Ladakh is big, bold and beautiful. It is a stunningly sublime landscape pitched high in India’s Himalayas that boasts the largest peaks on Earth, majestic Buddhist monasteries unrealistically perched on dizzying cliff sides, and an indigenous people with hearts that match the grandeur of their mountains. But it can also spank if you let your guard down. Ladakh will not be tamed. In fact, it is Ladakh that tames you.

Let’s start with a most critical fact. Unless you are planning to ride there from Delhi via Srinagar or Manali, like most visitors to the region you will be deposited via airliner in its capital, Leh. Leh sits at an elevation of 11,570 feet (3,500 meters). This is more than double the elevation of Denver and on par with some of the highest mountains in the Rockies or the Alps. If you’re like most people, you will not feel very different when you step off the plane. But as soon as you command your body to do anything strenuous – climb stairs for instance – you will understand. The lack of oxygen is very palpable. And if you are very unlucky (and forgot to take your altitude sickness medicine), you may find your first 36 hours to be an intensely miserable affair. Think intense headaches, endless nausea and hours in bed.

Now before you close your laptop muttering something to the effect of  “f— that s—“, there is a flipside to the misery. With the proper precautions – taking Diamox for 2-3 days prior to arriving, for instance – this potentially experience-ruining side effect can be mitigated. And once you’ve crossed this bridge, your new universe of exploration awaits you.

Now that we have gotten that out of the way, let the fun begin. Leh, your landing point, feels like an outpost on the fringes of civilization. Its desert periphery teems with military bases given its proximity to Pakistan and China but its center is all charm. Its epicenter – the imposing 16th Leh Palace – dominates the skyline from its rocky promontory and fixes a point in time when the Kingdom of Ladakh held sway over the entirety of the southern Himalayas. The place swells over the summer months with tourists and trekkers from around the world giving the town an exotic cosmopolitan buzz all its own. But when the roads close to the outside world in October, Leh reverts to its bleak, isolated, insular self.

Most exploration itineraries for Ladakh use a hub and spoke approach, that is an excursion to the northwest and a return to Leh, then a ride to the north and back to Leh, and then finally a run to the southeast before heading back to Leh for the last and final time.

The first spoke and the easiest ride by far is the trip up to Lamayuru followed by a short stint to Temisgam. Three and a half hours on National Highway 1 from Leh and you arrive at one of the most magical villages on earth. It is home to the 900 year old Tibetan Buddhist Lamayuru Monastery, the oldest and largest in the entire region and home to 150 Buddhist monks. Dusk spent on a hotel terrace provides a spectacle of cinematic quality as the setting sun plays over the architectural details of the monastery painting it yellow, then orange and finally a purple hue that contrasts against the deep blue sky and the mighty mountains in the backdrop.

The next morning ‘ease in’ ride brings us to the lush Temisgam valley, its verdant pastoral calm only interrupted by the soaring heights of the 20,000 foot peaks in the distance and the lofty perch of the Temisgam Monastery. The ride up to this sacred place provides an iconic view of the winding, cliff’s edge road ascending to the site: the monastery occupies the middle ground and the jagged peaks of the Ladakh Range jut skyward in the distance.

The first retreat to Leh for a night provides an opportunity to plan the next spoke of the journey – the ascent over the Kardung-La Pass.

The gradual 7,000-foot climb from Leh begins almost immediately upon breaching city limits. Endless hairpin bends characterize the profile of the ride and the terrain evolves as we move toward the heavens: pavement and vegetation ultimately give way to gravel, snow and a rocky landscape. 3-5 hours later, depending on the flow of military and tourist vehicles jostling for space on the narrow road, you are deposited on the Top of the World – the highest motorable pass on the planet. At an elevation of 18,400 feet above sea level, we are a mere 1,600 feet below the altitude of Everest Base Camp. Especially early in the riding season when patches of snow still mottle the road and massive snow banks line our path, there is an enormous sense of satisfaction in having reached this foreboding and inhospitable place. As with all five of the 17,000+ passes we conquer during this ride, vigilance is necessary. While trekkers have ample time to acclimatize during their very gradual ascent, bikers need to heed the fact that the oxygen levels up here are half of what they are at sea level and spending any more than 15-20 minutes at the top can invite the effects of altitude sickness – a perilous proposition when a motorbike is the only way down.

Safely on the north side of the range and nestled in the Nubra Valley, the next couple of nights bring the small towns of Hunder and Sumur, literal oases in the mountain desert nudged up against the sacred Indus River. This region of stunningly dramatic beauty is home to wild horses that graze in the deep green meadows that straddle the river, is a base for mountain treks & river rafting and the exploration of nomadic herder settlements in the high valleys.

The ascent over the Chang-la Pass on the way back to Leh might seem a more laid back prospect: its elevation tops out at a mere 17,858 feet (5,360 meters). Surprise! The mostly unpaved serpentine route is more challenging but also a great deal of fun.

After a final recharge back in Leh, the third and final segment of this adventure brings us southeast, to the lake region of Tso Kar and Tso Moriri. This area instills a sense of the austere like no other area in Ladakh: a desert landscape situated high upon the Tibetan Plateau – townless and almost devoid of any traces of civilization except for a few scattered military bases and the distant specks of nomadic herders and their flocks sprinkled upon the mountainsides.

Of course, it is these distinctive, almost otherworldly features that bring us here, a place like nothing we have seen before. Tso Kar, the great salt lake that becomes a surreal salt flat in the spring time, is a mere teaser to tide you over until you have traveled further south across open plains to reach Tso Moriri. With only the small town-slash-military base of Karzok to blemish its otherwise pristine shoreline, you can only stand mesmerized in the evening as you soak in the sublime beauty of this deep blue lake as a setting sun casts its evening orange hue on the snowcapped peaks. At this point, only the mighty 17,500 foot Tang-la pass stands between you and your flight back to lesser elevations.

Adventure is a word that is bandied about these days with little to tether it to its roots. If you are looking for the purest distillation of adventure, it isn’t too hard to find. Just point your front wheel toward Ladakh.

Two Wheeled Expeditions offers rides through Ladakh between June and September every year.