Cracking the Code on Covid Travel

It seems impossible to have a conversation about Covid and more specifically about travel during it without touching a nerve somewhere. The topic is as polarised as climate change, racial equality, immigration and pretty much every other social theme of our time. I am not going to wade into that mire. It’s way too tiring. If you are a person who believes that until Covid is ‘over’, the world should remain ‘sheltered in place’, you might be better served spending the next 10 minutes in your garden. But for those of you who accept our new reality and despite this will continue to live your life, read on.

If you have not travelled much in the last 22 months, especially internationally, one basic fact should be understood: the rules have not only changed, they refuse to remain static. So, if an international adventure is stuck in your near-term mindset, don’t despair. With a lot of stamina and some clever sleuthing, catapulting yourself from your Covid penitentiary into our beautiful world is a few clicks away.

Making a commitment..and when

Let’s be honest: the airlines and companies like AirBnB have been pretty horrible throughout this pandemic. I personally have lost thousands on flights that had to be postponed or cancelled, losses that have posted as revenue to the carriers but a big expense to me. And I know I am not alone. It took a while to figure out the best tactic: don’t book more than 3-4 weeks out. As we all know, our current world can become a very different place in a short period of time so a brief gap between booking and travel constrains this risk. And of course, choose a tour company (like ours, for instance) that has the deepest disdain for large, inflexible airlines and one that treats its clients the way we would want to be treated. This means 100% flexibility of your booking in the Covid world.

Getting ready for departure

Disclaimer: All facts may become fiction without notice.

We field questions daily about the rules for travel. The question ‘do I need to be vaccinated’ is invariably among them. Obviously, whether you vaccinate or not is a personal decision. But if you decide not to, you will encounter a strong (quarantine) headwind wherever you go.

Let the fun begin!

Step 1 – Get International Travel Insurance.

This was a strong recommendation well before the Covid waves started crashing over our beach party. This coverage usually cost about USD75 and covers you for illness and injury during your trip. So ‘if’ you take a tumble and need to come home in first class wearing a cast, or ‘if’ you contract the dreaded Omicron or some other letter in the Greek alphabet and require some hospital time, you can rest assured that you will not have to max your credit card getting the care you need. Allianz is a good one that we use, but there are many out there.

Step 2 – India & Nepal – Your ticket to the big show

Time to get real: if you want to travel internationally, you are doing yourself a disservice by not getting vaccinated. That said, this is your choice so if you are down with the facts and don’t mind sitting in a quarantine hotel at your expense, have at it. Once you are past this, the process is straightforward: get a PCR test prior to your flight (how long before varies but usually no more than 72 hours), complete your Passenger Locator Form for the destination country, get your visa and off you go. See? Simple.

Step 3 – Staying safe on road

Once we’re on the road, everything is pretty much as it always was. Kathmandu or Delhi traffic madness (the best video game in the world), stunning vistas, winding roads, sublime food, beautiful smiles. Wearing a mask in hotels and restos is left to the guest although they are still required in taxis and busses. We wear them to keep the dust out of our lungs but short of that, your adventure rolls on as your dreams imagined. Let the awesome unfold!

Step 4 – Getting ready to make your way home

We expect the service level of our hotel partners to be equal to that of our tour company. That means we take care of everything. 24 hours before you depart, our base hotel in Kathmandu, Delhi or wherever will arrange for a reputable local lab to come to the hotel and take bio samples from our entire ride crew. 8 hours later, the results are delivered and you are ready for re-entry.

Step 5 – Navigating your arrival

This is where things become variable based on your home country. Most require the completion of a Passenger Locator Form that essentially captures all your personal data including your vaccination status, your negative PCR result and proof that you have booked a PCR test to be taken upon your arrival back home. (As I write this, the UK has just done away with this silliness but who knows, the madness may yet return.)

The happy ending to this bureaucratic ball of twine is that it really isn’t that difficult. Like adventuring around India or Nepal for 12 days on a motorcycle, it may seem daunting but once you’re done you’ll give yourself a pat on the back and wonder what all the fuss was about. And as far as the riding is concerned, you’ll kick yourself for waiting so long and start planning your escape to do it all again!

I had a dream about my new Klim Badlands Pro riding suit the other night. Or maybe it was a nightmare. The Cordura and Kevlar mass had morphed into a Transformer, Artemis Prime style, and raged though our serene beachside chill spot smashing our Royal Enfield Bullets to pieces. The reality is not far from the dream. Fresh off the rack, the Klim Badlands Pro Jacket and Pants feel like they want to jump to life, swagger across the room and kick the crap out of you. They feel that tough. Putting the new set on feels like donning an exoskeleton. Bring on the battle. Sri Lankan style.

On the flight to Colombo to conduct a refreshed recce of our newest Sri Lanka tour, I am reflecting on the first recce we did there a year earlier. It wasn’t monsoon season but the island doesn’t play by those rules. Each part of the country has its own climate and the deluge followed us around like a stray dog. Every day for the first 4 days, we rode through a perpetual carwash of aquatic ferocity: knee-deep muddy rice fields, flooded village roads, angry streams – we got it all. The Italian adventure jackets we had purchased for our company for their lightness, modularity and reputation were not cutting the chutney. Water penetrated my ride pants and trickled down my legs filling up my waterproof boots over and over again. The jackets, which had the baffling design of placing the waterproofing Gore-Tex layer in the inside of the jacket rather than as its external layer, swelled up to twice their dry weight with water. It was no catastrophe: the rain was warm and we were doing the thing we love most: Creating a new ride experience. But ultimately, this gear that we loved on our drier rides in Nepal, Rajasthan and Ladakh were a ‘big no’ for southern India and Sri Lanka. 

Cue to something new.

I have been using Klim Mojave pants for some time. They are a simple shell and are great for Mojave, Thar and Sahara Deserts, albeit with my own armour. I have also loved the summer and autumn season gloves from the same maker. Great and great. But the foray into a complete suit was new ground for me.

My first impression suiting up for the ride from Colombo up the Indian Ocean coast to Kalpitiya was ‘wow, that’s a lot of pockets.’ 18, to be exact. At one point I tried to fish out my passport to check into our hotel only to find that I could feel it but somehow couldn’t get to it. Like trying to figure out which of my 4 smoke detectors is making the bloody low battery chirpy noise. Of course, I can’t toss Klim a foul flag on the design. I am sure that, with time, my jacket’s new Dewey Decimal System will take shape and every pocket will have it purpose.

Here is what I loved, and what did not.

• Ventilation – Galle, Sri Lanka’s UNESCO World Heritage city, sits a mere 440 miles / 700 km north of the equator so, accordingly, I feared I was going to dissolve inside the suit in the sweltering heat. Not so. Maybe they designed it in a wind tunnel, but once you get moving, I stayed as cool as deep sea cod. There are 8 (!) vents in the jacket alone and they work exceedingly well. Stop for a tea break along a jungle road, however, and you’ll be popping popcorn in there in minutes.
  
  
• Pockets – As mentioned, there are many, many pockets. Too many. When you inventory all the stuff you normally cram into a suit before hitting the adventure trail, the list is finite: Passport, wallet, sunglasses, revolver, currency, phone, lip balm, keys. So 8, maybe 10 max would do the trick. 16 is just showing off. There’s even a jacket pocket at the back above your waistline that reminds me of a game pocket from a hunting jacket. I did slice a 2-metre viper in two with my wheels on a narrow rice paddy track (still feel sorry for that guy) that I theoretically could have snacked on later, but short of that I have no idea what to do with the game pocket.  Maps perhaps? But who uses those anymore?
  
  One other point: all pockets are not created equal. I love the inside jacket pockets lined with armour to (perhaps) protect your iPhone when you face plant. But even more so, I love the front breast key pocket. Never in the history of human civilisation has a wiser pocket been devised.
  
  
• Aesthetic – I am short and for some reason wearing a clunky suit tends to make me look like a Mighty Morphin Power Ranger. I don’t know if it’s the cut, the design or my stellar physique, but this suit did not make me look like a Morphin. Or at least I don’t think I did.
  
  On the negative spin, with the exception of ‘Peyote – Potter’s Clay’ and ‘Stealth Black’, (a big no-no in hot South Asia where we run our tours) all the other colour configurations look like they were randomly selected from a pile of crayons.
  
  
• Armour – I didn’t crash but there is CE Level 2 armour everywhere. The pants did shield me from viper and dog bites but otherwise, the armour went untested. My only complaint, and I hope the nice folks in Idaho are listening, is that weird tailbone plate in the pants. Ever throw on your jeans fresh from the dryer and realise there’s a sock inside along for the ride on your backside? That’s the feeling the buttplate gives. Sitting on rocks or logs or hard plastic stools as you do during these rides places unpleasant (best word I could find) pressure on the very bone it is meant to protect. Maybe my tail is longer than most, but I might banish the buttplate and take my chances.
  

• Weather-Proofing – For the first time ever, I prayed to be blasted with a storm. Unlike last year’s monsoon recce, this one was brilliant sunshine throughout so could not assess the suites watertight-edness. But with most pockets and their zippers being thoroughly treated and the material Gor-Texed from top to bottom, I have faith that I’d have been dry as a martini.
  
  
• Biomechanics – Sounds esoteric, but it’s important. The Klim is as flexible as a suit of armour when unpacked. I fretted that trying to throw my leg over the saddle would be like riding in a body cast. It wasn’t. After throwing the jacket to the dirt like a spoiled child at every tea break for a couple of days, it was as supple as my granddaddy’s baseball glove. In no time, I was doing motorcycle yoga like a guru.
  
  
• Hydration – Wow, really? We often ride with Camelback hydration packs Rajasthan, Nepal, Kerala and Ladakh. I never liked them because they obscure the embroidered ‘Two Wheeled Expeditions’ logo on the back of jackets, stitching we paid a tidy sum for. The Badlands jacket has a built in (my partner Josh had a mind melt event about this) hydration pack pocket in the back of the jacket, MotoGP style, with pre-built tube routes to get the water to your mouth. Wow. So much wow.

Is the Klim Badlands Pro suit the best adventure riding apparel in the history of the universe? I was going to say no, that’s not possible, until superb customer service and a ‘you thresh it, we refresh it’ policy pushed me over the edge. The answer you seek is yes. Yes, this this is the best adventure motorcycling suit ever conceived. However, (and this is a mighty however) it is really expensive. At USD2000 for the pants and jacket, you might think this decision a bit mental. But if you run adventure tours for a living, or adventure riding is a massive part of your life, or you just have hundos lying all over the floor, you are going to find it tough to buy a better exoskeleton to project your hide from the battle outside than Badlands.

Let’s start with the question asked repeatedly in the weeks following our tour design ride in Bhutan: What’s it like?

The first thing that strikes you is cleanliness. Crossing the border from India to Bhutan is like stepping through a portal to a place 1000’s of miles away. There is no sound. (horning, a national pastime in India, is banned). There is no rubbish on the streets anywhere. There is order. Smoking in public places is banned. No brash signage shouts for your attention. Breathe deep and let the clean mountain air fill your lungs.

Secondly, the people. Those familiar with India would know that traffic attitudes toward ‘two wheelers’ can be an aggressive affair. In Bhutan, the car, truck or bus ahead of you will have their right signal on to inform you it is not safe to pass. When they switch to the left indicator, they are saying ‘you are good to go.’ They do not merely acknowledge your existence, they aim to protect it. Whether on the road or in a shop and whether fostered by its Buddhist roots or the guiding hand of its King, people come across as innately kind. The place creates a plane of peace and relaxation through its people.

This Himalayan kingdom, closed to the outside world until the mid-70s and shrouded in mystery for some many centuries prior, finds itself tightly wedged between the superpowers of China (Tibet) and India. And while the country’s marketing machine may have succeeded in publicising, ‘Gross National Happiness’ as its guiding light, it’s how this principle manifests itself in its people that is the country’s most beautiful trait.

Bhutan is a small country, only slightly smaller than Switzerland, but its tiny population of only 770,000 and its endless, winding mountain roads make it seem like one of the most remote places on Earth. This is why, for motorcyclists and trekkers alike, it is a magnet without peer. Along its pristine rivers or perched on soaring cliffs, the landscape is a perfect symbiosis between the natural world and the one created by the Bhutanese people.

On tourism, Bhutan is famous for taking a different path, a strategy designed to grow tourism sustainably. Firstly, a traveller does not simply arrive and make their own itinerary. All travel plans need to be made through a government-certified Bhutanese tour operator. In addition, as a means of keeping over-tourism in check, the country levies a daily fee on all guests. This fee was lowered from USD250 per day to USD100 in the past year, but the effect is still palpable. Even when making the 3-hour trek to the cliffside Tiger’s Nest temple complex, without a doubt Bhutan’s most iconic site, the volume of tourist traffic is relatively low yielding a more intimate and infinitely more pleasing experience.

The Environment

Another admirable facet of the Bhutanese approach to ensuring the country retains its natural beauty for generations to come is its commitment to land preservation and the environment. Its status as one of the only carbon-negative countries in the world is driven by effective use of hydro-electric power (it uses less than it produces and exports the surplus to India) and its constitutionally mandated preservation of 60% of the country’s landmass as undisturbed forest. The current level stands at 70%. All these wonderful, responsible policies translate to one of the most rewarding travelling experiences to be found anywhere in the world. And when combined with the freedom and exposure of a Royal Enfield Himalayan as our means of exploration, Bhutan ranks as an adventure motorcycling experience like no other.

The Route and its Features

Our route took us on a 12-day exploration of a large swath of the country. The whole experience kicks off with an arrival at Paro International Airport. With a runway extending along the valley floor and mountain ranges at either end, it offers an apt introduction to the rugged topography of the country. Rather than settle in Paro at the beginning and end of the tour, we make our way via a quick bus ride up to the capital, Thimpu.

Situated at an elevation of 2,300 meters and with a population of less than 100k, Thimpu has the vibe of a ski town. With an incredibly ornate style of architecture that is uniform throughout the country, squinting your eyes you may think you have landed in the Austrian or Swiss Alps. On the bikes, it’s a short ride to one of the most impressive sights Thimpu has to offer, the Buddha Dordenma, a 51-meter tall, gilded statue of the Buddha placed on a hilltop that commands a view of the whole valley. This is a fitting spot to kick off our journey.

Heading east, we toss the bikes from side to side along sublime mountain sweepers, our groove only amplified by the magnificent vistas on the road to the glacial valley town of Gangtey and from there, Bumthang. Like elsewhere in the country, we are accompanied by a chorus of the ‘hellos’ of schoolchildren who bolt from their homes on hearing the sound of our bikes.

From here, the comparisons to Switzerland become even more pronounced. The elegant consistency of Bhutanese architecture draws parallels to that of the Swiss countryside, and the perfect road surfaces and endless mountain views could lead you to order rösti at lunch instead of the ubiquitous momos. We are only shaken from the tarmac bliss by a rough transition to rocks and gravel 12 kms from our final resting place for the night. A bit of grit was more than welcome…this is why we came!

It was not until we rolled out of the beautifully named town of Tingtibi and its good roads and beautiful scenery that we finally begin to descend. Here, the vegetation becomes more tropical we near the Indian border. The town of Gelephu straddles India and Bhutan and introduces us back to civilisation and Bhutanese whiskey for a night.

Whiskey haze somewhat shaken, the next stint, takes us along the Indian border for 35km of valley floor riding and the only straight roads in the country. From there, we once again start climbing passing dramatic, remote cliff-side waterfalls along the way. Towards dusk, we reach the town of Punakha, a beautiful town and home of the most striking example of Bhutanese architecture, Punakha Dzong or fortress. A day off the bikes provides some latitude to visit the Dzong, try our hand at the national pastime, archery, and a meal at a now famous homestay kitchen high in the hills around Punakha.

Our final stretch to Paro takes us over the highest motorable pass in Bhutan, the 4,000-meter Cheli-La Pass. Back in town, the Paro valley is a lovely way to end the adventure. Willow trees and apple orchards line the roads, rustic farmhouses and temples augment the beautiful rice fields, and verdant hills rise on either side to create a beautiful and serene whole.

The Conclusion

There is simply no place on Earth like Bhutan. The mountain vistas are endless, the natural beauty of its rivers and waterfalls are untouched, the people are the kindest found anywhere, and its architecture, pervasive throughout the country, is in complete harmony with the landscape. For the motorcycle adventurist, it is heaven. The 24,000 curves, beautiful accommodations, exotic food and the kindest people on Earth will make you fall in love.

Whether crossing the 18,000ft Khardung-la Pass in Ladakh, traversing the Thar Desert in Rajasthan or winding through the endless twisties of the Western Ghats mountain range in southern India, I never tire of shouting the same phrase through my helmet intercom to my partner Josh at the lead of our ride group: ‘You know what, Josh?? We have the best jobs in the world!” And he never gets sick of reassuring me that, ‘yes, Roro, we sure do!” So what could possibly top sharing what we love most with a group of like-minded people? Creating a new experience from a blank sheet of paper. This is called running a ‘recce’ or reconnaissance ride.

‘What’s that all about?’, you might ask? Well a lot, actually. It all starts with places we love to ride and believe adventurers would love as well. Let’s take Nepal, for example.

While Two Wheeled Expeditions is based in Delhi and our coverage of this vast country is quite substantial, Nepal is a very difference place. I had ridden through a lot of it during an around the world ride in 2008 and both Josh and I have covered parts of it for our own for personal adventure in the years that followed. That gave us the foundation to know we love the place and market research tells us we are not alone, so we were in agreement: Let’s build a Nepal expedition.

As you’d expect, the clean sheet of paper doesn’t stay clean very long. We knew we had certain constraints (difficulty, duration, distance) and standards (our ‘best accommodation and restaurant available’ policy, making cultural connections, staying off the beaten trail, etc.) So like any adventurer, we started with research. We contacted everyone we know in Nepal to get insider guidance, we researched dozens of hotels, we mapped out various route permutations and we defined our ‘must have’ experiences. Then came the fun part: 3 best friends meet in a hotel in Kathmandu and begin to make it real. In this case, it was me, Josh and one of our favourite people in the world, Igor from Toronto.

Now obviously we can’t spend cash on our recce rides like we do on our client rides. We stay at cheaper hotels but visit all of the best ones around and build relationships with managers and owners. We don’t use a support vehicle so we have to carry everything we need on the bikes and we have no mechanic so we carry our own spares and tools. Of course, getting a tour of a magnificent hotel like the Baber Mahal Vilas in Kathmandu – one of my favourites on the planet – may give us a good sense of what the experience is like, but to test a restaurant you must eat. Accordingly, our food budget is always lavish (I tell our accountant to post the invoices under ‘Research & Development’) and so it should be: we are foodies and cuisine is the heart of any culture and cultural connection is at the heart of our rides. After each experience, hotel, meal, chai stop, stretch of road, we take a break and discuss our impressions. Was it boring? Dangerous? Did it inspire wonder? The notebooks capture all this info, the exact locations of each feature, the distances and timings of each ride sector, GPS coordinates, landmarks, the menus, the costs, the locations of hospitals and workshops, site entry fees, the contact details of people we meet..everything. This info later forms the basis of a very detailed Expedition Guidebook.

Finally setting off on the recce is a sense of pure adventure: we go where we want to go in pursuit of the best experience possible. Do we get lost? Yes, often. But getting lost is part of the adventure because nine times out of ten, we are led to something completely unexpected, something that MUST be on our tour. Of course, we won’t divulge all of our ‘secret stashes’ here because there is always a competitor looking to copy our rides – yes, industrial espionage exists in the adventure touring business…we have even seen our own tour descriptions copied and pasted in other web sites – but believe me when I tell you that accidental discovery is the essence of the recce: Look at a map, detect an interesting geographical feature or a village hidden in the forest and off we go! The long, mountainous road from Lumbini to Chitwan National Park sparked one of these beautiful finds. Long stretches winding on a narrow highway through the forest revealed a dirt road turnoff into the dense jungle and Josh raised his arm to have us all stop and huddle. A unanimous ‘yes’ and we set off into the unknown.

The sinuous path through the dense flora was idyllic. We crossed over streams, made our way across fields of tall grasses and broke though beams of sunlight that penetrated the tall trees. A forager encountered in the middle of the forest pointed the way to his local village and there we had tea and biscuits, watched the evenings chicken dinner be slaughtered and befriended the local kids. The 26 km detour through this magical place, a secret path less travelled, has been a fixture on our Nepal ride ever since.

I will never stop telling Josh that we have the best jobs in the world because, as I define it, the best job in the world is not a job at all. It is a passion that you would pursue even if it was totally devoid of any monetary incentive. But there is something special about the recce ride. It is about building an experience kilometre by kilometre, relationship by relationship and momo after yummy momo with your best friends. And we cannot wait to begin our next one because a Sri Lanka expedition is right around the corner.

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.

I know I have ridden far from the highway when at the tea stops, the cups shrink to under two inches and the horizon seems endless. So when I pull up beside a bright blue shop under a Khejri tree, the official state tree of Rajasthan, I order not one, but two cups of chai.

The bench I sit on lets me lean against the brick wall of a government school to watch life go by on the hard packed dirt road. Kids in uniform and masks seem in no hurry even though it’s well past their morning assembly. Post lockdown there must be marks for just showing up.

A diesel goods train rumbles by the railway crossing barely fifty meters from where I am sitting. As the yellow and black stripped barricade goes up, a bullock cart leisurely rolls across with a man and woman sitting cross legged beside each other. She uses the loose end of her pink sari to cover her face, known as “ghoonghat”, a common practice among married women in these parts.

I get back up to order more chai and smell the incense burning below the framed picture of a local deity. The spice-induced tea concoction brewing in the wood fire makes it a heady smokey mix. The shopkeeper acknowledges my order by nodding his head and showing his index finger, implying that it will be ready in a minute.

Standing beside me is the sole customer. A man in local attire of cotton dhoti-kurta and a bright turban. He is lighting his rolled-up cigarette known as ‘bidi’ and curiously looking at my bike. He seems unsure about me and to be fair I do look odd in my bulky dust covered riding gear.

Taking my sunglasses off, I smile and greet him with a “Namaste”. A little at ease, he shoots the standard questions I get asked in most of rural India. Where are you from? How much is your bike? What average kms to a liter does the bike give?

 

One isn’t expected to literally answer such questions. I mention where my parents are from, not where I grew up or where I am currently living. And I don’t mention the on-road price of a Royal Enfield motorcycle, I say it is worth three camels.

Our chai arrives and we talk a bit more about local and national news, the lockdown and its impact. The pandemic gives us a common ground to acknowledge the fragility of life, even empathize with one another, and imagine what the new season could bring.

As I ready myself to resume my ride, this ritual makes passersby stop and stare at me pulling down the helmet, putting on the winter gloves and then awkwardly getting on the bike. As I ride off, I hear the man with whom I was conversing telling the bystanders “chalo, chalo, picture khatam ho gaya!” (move along people, show’s over!)

 

Our rides to the beautiful state of Rajasthan re-start on 24 October 2021. To check out the ride, click here.

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.

We asked Igor Spasojevic, a passionate adventure rider based in Canada why he wants to keep riding with TWE. 

What motivated you to do a ride in Rajasthan and Nepal? 

To be honest India wasn’t really on my radar. I wasn’t planning to visit it. My list of destinations to see was ever growing, but India wasn’t on it. Then, one sunny Tuesday in May, I think, I received an invitation to join the expedition to Rajasthan. It was a fantastic opportunity to ride motos with friends in an exotic land and I couldn’t let it pass. Following the joy and euphoria of this experience, when the opportunity came up to do it again in a less manic way and in a country that I had actually intended and desired to visit, which was Nepal, it was a no-brainer. 

 

Why did you choose TWE? 

They’re a bunch of ne’er-do-wells whom I have grown to appreciate as friends. I like the CEO with a “fuck everything” attitude, pink mohawk and a KTM. The TWE guide is one of the best humans in the world, great artist of life and an excellent guide. He works better without a GPS and takes better photos with his antique iPhone than with a DSLR. 

 

What do you ride at home?

KTM 790 Adventure R with some minor mods

Your next ride with TWE? 

Oh god!! Ha ha ha…once the borders re-open and once I can take some more vacation time, I’d love to visit Bhutan with TWE! or Ladakh! or Sri Lanka.. anywhere really. Marrakech? 

We had reached the furthest westward destination of our March ride through Rajasthan, the dusty, 15th century citadel town of Bikaner, when the walls of Covid-19 started to close around us. We were still three days ride from our end destination in Delhi and Josh radioed to me through our helmet intercoms that the window to leave the country before lockdown was closing. It was now clear that we were going to have to pull a couple of long, gritty days to make the looming deadline and get everyone to the airport and on their way to their home countries by then. Since that final day, the 21^st of March 2020, Two Wheeled Expeditions, like every other travel company on the planet, has been idled.

It was two years earlier at my last employer’s corporate offices in Silicon Valley that the wheels to ditch my career in the IT consulting world and start this company were set in motion. The firm where I was employed as a business unit lead managing 500 people and a $20m sales target was consolidating and generous payouts were being offered to those who decided to leave. The fact that I had an unused business class ticket from San Francisco to Delhi sealed the deal: I took the money, shaved my head to a Mohawk, dyed what remained pink, flipped the corporate world a big middle finger and registered Two Wheeled Expeditions as limited liability company. 22 years of adventure riding and one and a half circumnavigations of the globe provided the street cred. From that day on, passion would become livelihood. Six months after launch we hit our stride. The new bookings every month put us on target to fill our 12 tours for the year, the great reviews were rolling in and the team and I got the validation we hoped for: we got the balance right. Price, tour quality and excellence in service delivered the experience our clients had thirsted for. The trajectory was unabashedly upward.

Then came Covid 19 and we all know what happens next. The collective civilization of our planet has been upended, economies have seized and hundreds of thousands have died. We have not had it easy; no one has. But if there is anything that this teeth-kicking pandemic has provided us with, it is time. Time to master baking, to perfect cocktails and to reflect on everything that is going on around us. This article is a collection of thoughts and learnings extracted from the experience and implemented as we do everything in our power to keep our dream alive.

• Don’t Back Down – The old song by Tom Petty accompanied me through the toughest days on the road during a seven-month ride around the world. Not even Talban drug smugglers who stood in our way in Pakistan’s Baluchistan province could withstand the mantra. The message is simple: every day a tide of doubt and even despair gathers around our feet. The stream of negative reports on the future of the economy is relentless and each one of them drives you deeper into a mire of hopelessness. But we humans are resilient and the yearn for adventure is nestled deep in our psyche. That truth keeps our motor torqued and our momentum unfettered.
• Set achievable, near term goals that support the grand vision – Being consumed by everything that cannot be controlled affects so many people right now. But if riding a motorcycle around the world taught me anything, it’s that breaking down any problem into small, manageable chunks helps you overcome being overwhelmed. Stay the course on your vision and make plans, even in the tiniest increments, to maintain momentum.
• Reset, retool, pivot – When we’re boxed in, we have to play the hand that has been dealt and find a viable path forward that leverages our strengths: the assets, skills, capabilities, and market position we have built. In our current world, we have to accept that fact that the overwhelming majority of the public will not be getting on a plane any time soon. Whether and for how long this is true is beside the point. Being successful entails taking risks and also hedging against risk. Looking for business opportunities that leverage what you are good at in new markets is a strategy for survival.
• Your people are your most valuable asset. Protect them at all costs – The airlines are facing an unprecedented dilemma. With massive fixed costs and passenger volumes down 95%, logic says they should reduce their personnel costs in equal measure. But the fact is, there is a staffing level below which business becomes unviable and a rebound impossible. With small companies like ours, the team is everything and without them you have nothing. Fight to keep them with your last dollar.
• Balance the excessive focus on problems with a regular inventory of everything that is going well – Many of us are in pain right now. There are so many uncontrollable, negative forces impacting us and it is very easy to get sucked into the vortex. While riding my motorcycle a couple of weeks ago, my mind stuck in the quicksand of negativity, I turned my attention to taking an account of all of that is good right now and my mood turned upward. Positive thinking is an immensely powerful force so harness all you can.
• Keep yourself mentally and physically strong, even when it seems impossible – The battle is only beginning, so better toughen up. My routine now includes daily meditation (an app), yoga (via Zoom), running (on the street) and weight training (shopping bags laden with books), all in the comfort of my small flat in London. Nothing can beat you when you feel ready for the fight.
• Seek out the sources of positive energy in your life – On dark days, and many of us will have them, seek out the people in your life who radiate positivity. People like this can help put things into perspective in a time when clouds may be obscuring yours.
• Stay connected with your audience and provide them with hope for future adventure – You have spent a great deal of time and money identifying and connecting with your customer base. Even if people are currently not buying what you’re selling, constantly remind them of why they sought you out in the first place. Eventually normalcy will resume and the world will once again take flight.
  

  Our last ride group – Friends for Life

• Manage cash wisely – Like almost every business except those selling designer surgical masks, we all need to manage costs. This has not stopped us from paying full refunds to all clients who had to cancel. Our company was founded on a principal of treating customers like friends. We actually, literally actually, love our clients and the last thing we want to do to people we love is alienate them.
• Ride your fucking motorcycle – When in doubt, I fall back on two wheeled therapy. Whatever your escape is, do it.

 

These are the shittiest of times, my friends. We all long for something: the touch of another human, to visit someplace new, to enjoy a meal at our favourite restaurant or a pint at our local pub. But even on the darkest days I can still see a light even if it is sometimes hard to find. We will ride again because we must. There is no option because as adventure bikers, it is the dream that makes us feel alive.

Two Wheeled Expeditions will resume operations with our 01 October 2020 ride through Nepal. To get the details on all of our upcoming rides and plan YOUR escape, check out our Expeditions page. Thanks!

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Rajasthan, arguably the most exotic of India’s 29 states has been a fixture on our expedition calendar from day one and it never, ever gets boring. Goats grazing on the roof of a bus, a cow roaming down the middle of a busy highway and a face full of colored powder during Holi keeps things interesting. It may also be that leaving Delhi during the rush hour heave and arriving in the open Thar Desert is the closest thing to teleportation available. One moment you are engulfed in the throng of microcars and Tata trucks and the next you’re gliding past camel carts guided by saffron-turbaned farmers. But all bets were off in the age of Corona Virus, as every human being on the planet is now painfully aware.

The decision to proceed with the tour group of eight was made at a time when, with the exception of China, the world still seemed relatively virus free. India’s population of 1.3 billion had only a handful of confirmed cases and they were confined to the southern state of Kerala. The 22 infections being treated there where cause enough to cancel our Southern India ride, but the rest of the vast country was still untouched and so all systems were go. It only took two weeks for the world to change completely.

Barreling down a dusty highway on a motorbike with seven of your new best friends while camels and goats stream by can provide the ultimate distraction from a world that seems to be melting down by the hour. As a group we made a pact to ignore news apps on our phones as much as possible. But since the new best friends were also clients, Josh and I had an obligation to remain on top of the situation and alter our plans as the situation necessitated. More challenging than keeping track of the deteriorating situation, however, seemed to be maintaining a buoyed mood in the group. This is a bucket list ride and our job is to deliver that experience. Despite our efforts, the sense of gradual emotional degradation was palpable, and we just had to give people the space they needed.

It only took a face full of paint to kick the mood back into positive territory. Lunch and chai breaks during each day’s ride are a highpoint of every ride. We blow off some steam, exchange stories about all of the bizarre things we’ve witnessed, and the group dynamic strengthens. After the sweet chai was done and we were ready to blow the alarm to gear up, a posse of 20 somethings rolled up in full-on Holi face paint glory and it didn’t take more than a minute for our untainted group to become a target. After 15 minutes of colored-powder warfare and endless belly laughs, the stress levels were reset to zero and we were on our bikes again.

Jaipur, Jodhpur and Jaisalmer were their gorgeous, exotic selves and the group could not be happier: Stunning surroundings, delectable cuisine, beautiful hotels, awesome biker friends from around the world..adventure motorcycling bliss. It wasn’t until we hit Bikaner in the far west of Rajasthan that things began to unravel. What started as a complaint to the bureaucratic front desk manager about the construction underway on our floor turned into an issue about a notice they had just received from the government of Rajasthan. The directive was that all citizens from a long list of countries were to leave the borders of Rajasthan by midnight, 6 hours hence, or be subjected to a mandatory 14-day quarantine in the hotel. One of the countries on the list, the UK, was the home of one of our guests. We broke the news to him and the rest of our crew calmly and with purpose: we had already started the process of booking him a taxi for the 9-hour ride to Delhi airport fearing that other states may soon follow suit. The frenzy that ensued to get him packed, loaded and on his way was surreal for all of us: after 10 days together, with one stroke of the government’s hand only 7 of us remained.

We were two days’ ride from Delhi and, with the sense that the escape window was rapidly closing, we decided as a group to cut the remainder of the tour short and head to Mandawa the next morning. It was the right choice: the mood deteriorated as all the guests struggled with reservation agents to reschedule their departures. The Indian Government had ordered that all flights into and out of India would be suspended in a week’s time and flights were being cancelled in droves.

Our last night on the road was arguably the best. Our favourite hotel in India was waiting for us in Mandawa, the bar was fully stocked, and the pool was ours alone. We had no idea how horrible the state of the world would be in only three weeks’ time, but our party vibe definitely had an ‘end of the world’ celebratory tone and rode a wave of music and Kingfisher Beer into the wee hours.

The morning’s anticipated translucent haze mired the departure preparations only a bit. The team had internalized the daily ritual and knew we had a tough, long, chaotic ride back to Delhi. We were only 10 minutes into the ride when we hit the first roadblock.  With Josh at the lead and me riding tail, he gave me the news via our intercom: the Rajasthan government was sealing the border with neighbouring Haryana and all traffic was being turned back. We kept calm and kept probing the periphery of the state, but we are denied exit repeatedly. We toyed with going back and waiting things out at our beautiful hotel – but we sensed this was not going to be a short-term event and pushed on. Taunts of ‘Corona’ accompanied our ride through densely packed town arteries, and I sensed an uncomfortable tension. India has a reputation for spreading malicious rumours like brushfire via WhatsApp and those frenzies have been known to turn violent.  Ultimately Josh turned to his Malayali charm to tap local intel on the best ‘agricultural’ routes across the border. The circuitous track took us through the back alleys of villages, over wheat field cow paths and finally to a beautiful, treelined country lane that led us six hours later to the national highway and back to Delhi.

When everyone managed to depart India by the 19 March lockdown, the government stated the freeze would last 7 days. Of course, we know now that was excessively optimistic and tourists who decided, voluntarily or not, to remain likely find themselves sheltering in place in India to this day.

We are hopeful that measures taken to stem the contagion will bear fruit in India. India is our home and the epicentre of the most exciting adventure touring on Earth. We count the days until we are back in the saddle, doing what we love.