The one thing most of us take for granted is a decent place to rest at the end of each day. The times we may have found ourselves without a roof could be by choice or sheer foolishness. Like spending a night beside a freezing lake high in the Himalayas without a tent. Or riding through torrential rain and not finding a place to sleep till late into the night. We may call it adventure and once we’re back home with a roof over our heads and a warm bed under our weary bones, we can laugh about it.
But when we pause to consider the people we ride past who often have no choice but to sleep out in the open or in poorly constructed slums we dare not call it their “adventure”.
With this realization we decided to do our part to give back to the country that provides the incredible backdrop for many of our rides. So a few months ago, Two Wheeled Expeditions founder Roro La Velle and I began searching for a suitable charitable organization to partner with in the area of home construction for the needy in India. This led us to Habitat For Humanity India, an NGO that has been doing just that for nearly four decades. And this year, they even won the prestigious ‘Mahatma Award for Social Good’ in India for their noble efforts.
It also made sense to collaborate with the local motorcycling community including the decade old “Delhi Bikers Breakfast Run” (DBBR) and our friends and local motorcycle leather artisans at TripMachine to champion this cause and ensure that more people got involved. DBBR had already volunteered for few building projects in the past with Habitat and it was time to renew that commitment.
Thus ‘Ride For Habitat 2019’ got kick-started on 12th October as a long line of motorcycles rode nearly 70kms out of Delhi. School kids waved out of their buses while those in cars had their phones out to video us. Closer to our destination, the village kids ran out of their huts, laughing and waving at this peculiar sight.
Once we reached the Aravali Orchard, our destination for the morning’s post ride activities, helmets off and chai tea in hand, we sat around the manicured garden to hear about the significance of this ride and its implications into the future.
While Two Wheeled Expeditions donates $50 for every booking to Habitat, the company also invites international riders to volunteer for building projects. Such on site experiences often enrich and help shape our ideas about what really matters at the end of the day. And while adventure motorcycling is still a privilege, it can also be an opportunity to give back to those in need.
Pramil Aruldoss from Habitat shared passionately about why they do what they do. He said, “for families that end up receiving their home from Habitat For Humanity…when they have a place of belonging, a place to go back to sleep at the end of each day…they are then able to focus on other things like education, health, livelihood, hygiene and sanitation…the long term impact on such families is incredible”
The vision of Habitat For Humanity to ensure “a world where everyone has a decent place to live” profound. And it requires unique partnerships and initiatives such as ‘Ride For Habitat’ to pursue it. The invitation is open to all of us from across borders and from all backgrounds. Maybe for some of us, it may just take a night out on a cold mountain without a tent or getting stranded in the rain to make us realize what a difference a house makes to our wellbeing.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
Did you ever watch a MotoGP or World Superbikes race and notice how racers slide the rear tire out as they enter a turn so they can target the front wheel toward the exit and get on the gas earlier? Well, there is a 99.9% chance that you will never do that. But if you have a few hours under your belt on a dirt bike, there is a 99.9% chance that you will. That is because while riding a street bike is about all traction, pretty much all the time, dirt biking isn’t.
But every once in a while as you’re just settling in for a nice ride on your <<insert your bike here>>, almost always unintentionally, the tires WILL lose some traction, or the brakes WILL lock up, or the bike WILL go all squirrely over the metal grates of a bridge. The first time this happens, you will likely have one of those adrenalin shot moments as your biochemistry’s self-preservation function kicks in. There is a way to mitigate that millisecond or two of fear: get on a dirt bike and condition your mind and body for what a lack of control feels like.
If you are reading this, chances are you’re already a rider – maybe even a very experienced one. But whether a nube on a Rebel or a crusty on a Road King, spending some time on the dirt will almost certainly raise the level of your street game. Here are some reasons why.
Of course, the best-case scenario is that you live in the best of both worlds and, like me, have street bikes AND dirt bikes in the garage. But if hard choices come with hard constraints, find some way – beg, borrow or steal – to get some dirt bike hours under your belt. In addition to looking totally awesome in the gear, you will quickly discover that there was a much better rider inside of you just fighting to get out.
As I write this, the Desert Storm 2019 rally cars and motorcycles are thundering through the scorching Thar Desert of Rajasthan. Last week, Hero Motocorp launched the 200cc dual-purpose Xpluse at a very competitive price, giving another option for those making the annual exodus to Ladakh next month. Then after celebrating “May the Fourth be with you!” with Star War fans, I was told the next day, May 5th was IFRD or International Female Ride Day. Triumph recently organized a track day at the Buddh International Circuit, led by none other than Vijay from Rajputana Customs. Harley Davidson is giving classes at its “University” and they’ve got heavyweight professor Vir Nakai giving the lectures. (Insert open mouth emoji here) I’m going breathless just writing all this. But the point is, there’s a lot more going on in the motorcycle scene in India than ever before!
Anyone serious need not spend their days riding vicariously via someone else’s social media feeds. They have options. But it can get a bit overwhelming. At its inception was an underwhelming group we founded 10 years back. It was more of a statement of intent than a slick name. “Delhi Bikers Breakfast Run” now called DBBR. What was meant to be a one-off experiment has had more than 10,000 riders get out and ride with perfect strangers and eat breakfast together. No point guessing who all have seen the photos or heard their stories. It soon became a platform for novice and seasoned bikers to connect without having to earn their right to be a biker by riding enough or owning the right bike or gear.
This has led to peer-to-peer influence that has had a significant impact on how new motorcycle related businesses get launched, what gear people acquire, which bikes they buy, the places they ride to and more importantly for me, how they perceive Delhi and the motorcycle culture at large. It is far easier to sit back and read reviews by professionals and bike companies and let them steer India’s motorcycle culture. But on the road, over breakfast one gets insights from the most unlikely and unassuming folks who in turn steer the future. In such rides I’ve gotten a better understanding on why the Mahindra Mojo didn’t take off even though I loved their near flawless ad campaign? Is there a clear winner between Royal Enfield Himalayan and Bajaj Dominar? Why do 40+ year old’s usually shy away from KTM bikes? How does discouraging customization by the lawmakers ruin creativity and innovation in the automotive industry? Which social media influencers are followed for mere entertainment and who actually influences people’s decisions?
As motorcycles get launched each month, more festivals, events, training and rides get planned, I feel DBBR still has a role in taking everything that gets thrown at us for a breakfast ride so we can really chew on it and give a feedback not on a forum or survey but to those who matter, our fellow bikers. What has helped DBBR stay the course has been our motto “Ride – Respect – Relax”. Come hailstorm or heatwave, we ride. Because if we don’t we get lost in the ocean of virtual information. And at its center, we aspire to ride with respect. Firstly with respect for ourselves, which impacts how we care for others and the environment. Lastly, since life is already so complicated, we ride to relax. Don’t forget, it’s just a ride and this is just another article.
On the highway, the Interceptor 650 gets a lot of attention. Possibly because I am riding the brightest of the 6 color options, and so is my ride buddy, Anshuman. The two “Orange Crush” twins remain the topic of discussion for our group of 16 riders as we make the 12-hour ride up from Delhi into the Kumaon hills.
The first impression of the bike is “wow” with a wide grin! It looks like a tastefully designed motorcycle for the more traditionally-minded biker. And I like it. That is until I notice its rear.
Unlike what you see on the Royal Enfield website, the Interceptor delivered on road has 2 major eye-sores. First, there is the mandatory “sari-guard”, a factory-fitted grill supposedly to protect ladies who will drape up in 8 meters of a sari and sit sidesaddle. No one checks that one can barely put one foot on the back peg, let alone both feet.
Secondly, there is the cheap plastic flap screwed below the rear number plate. My guess is that it serves the dual purpose of a mudguard and also wards off the evil eye.
Before you add any aftermarket parts, throw these two pieces of trash in the garbage and let the bike look like the charmer it’s meant to be.
With the superficialities out of the way, over the next couple of hours of riding, I am impressed by the response of the engine. Effortlessly smooth, there seems to be enough juice left even when you think you’re maxing out on the throttle. And when you need the brakes, they’re there too.
Sheldon, while lending me his bike the day before, had advised me to put all my preconceptions aside and ride it with a clean slate. Coming from a guy who has owned and ridden a wide range of motorcycles and has the technical know-how, I realized he was right. The Interceptor is indeed a brand new motorcycle from Royal Enfield.
As I navigate through some hot and bothersome traffic snarls, the Interceptor remains surprisingly calm. No tantrums and threats of overheating or clutch slips.
Anshuman doesn’t suffer from trying to make up for the years he wanted to ride but couldn’t for various reasons. His time is now and he adds with a smile “This is my first motorcycle and I think it’s a keeper. Well worth the money and experience…it has hooked me for sure!”
With breakfast over, we all hop back onto our bikes and immediately the novelty of how the bike looks or how the engine performs is replaced by how sore my posterior is. The Interceptor’s seat is slightly more padded than an ironing board, and a lot narrower. Thankfully this can be solved with a wider, more padded custom seat.
By midday the riding position feels a bit awkward and only when I stretch my arms out and sit far back on the seat do I save my legs from getting scraped by the front footpegs. But sitting like that makes the riding even more difficult especially once we hit the mountains.
As it happens in riding groups of our size, I keep losing some of the guys. And while making my 5th U-turn to chase another errant biker heading in the wrong direction, I drop the Interceptor on a slope. With no leg guard, the flimsy foot brake bends easily. It reminds me of a tablespoon and both the bikes have bent foot brakes by the third day.
Looking at the instrument panel, a gear indicator, maybe even a clock might be helpful. And at the end of our ride, we find that the petrol gauges on both the bikes are faulty. Any more frills on this old school bike seem extravagant.
So is the Interceptor 650 parallel twin the most responsive motorcycle from Royal Enfield? Undoubtedly, yes! And with a few aftermarket adjustments, it can also be the motorcycle one can play with for a lifetime.
Get the specs on Royal Enfield’s site Royal Enfield Motorcycles
Check out Josh’s recent review of the Himalayan Review of the Royal Enfield Himalayan
Ready for Royal Enfield tour in India? Check out our life-changing rides on our Expeditions page.
India is nothing if not a case study of extremes. From the moment you step out of the terminal at Indira Gandhi International Airport, you sense that something is setting you a bit off balance. It could be the fact that most flights arrive in the middle of the night and the smoky fog lingering over the city creates an ethereal aura. It could the intermingled brew of new smells that waft through the air as you make your way to the taxi rank. Or maybe even the dead of the night goings-on you spy from your taxi window as you wind through the darkness to your hotel. Give it time: things will get weirder but that, of course, is why you came.
India is regarded as one of the world’s most exotic destinations for many reasons. It’s mosaic of cultures and languages, its rich, extensive history, its beautiful architecture, its festivals, cuisines, religions and peoples. For this and every other reason you can fathom, India is one of the greatest countries on Earth to experience on a motorcycle. Yes, it does get a bit crazy out there sometimes. In fact, riding a bike there is often regarded as the greatest video game ever invented. Fortunately, you have come this far so you’re obviously the adventurous type. If you have not ridden there yet but have the idea planted like a splinter in your mind, your epiphany will come when you are chugging your way through the Thar Desert on your trusty Royal Enfield Bullet. It is then that you will crane your neck upward at the Western faces looking down at you from the windows of their air-conditioned luxury bus and realize that while they are watching a movie of India, you are playing a starring role.
Just like that time when you took your first skydiving leap, sometimes it helps to have someone nearby who has been there before and has your back. That’s where we come in. As expert riders and tour guides with a deep knowledge of India’s geography and culture, we know how to show you a good, safe time. Each expedition, each restaurant, each hotel, each and every bike: all have been checked out with our very own eyes, ears, nose and mouth. All you need to do is allow one of the most incredible adventures of your lifetime unfold before you, one page and one kilometer at a time.
A puddle was a magnet drawing me to splash through on my bicycle as fast as my tiny legs could pedal. Or I’d wait for the grown ups to get distracted so I could jump and splash in it till I was drenched.
Well, that same gleeful sensation seems to overwhelm us as we cross rivers on our motorcycles in Ladakh. Grown men and women can be seen squeezing their socks dry on the other bank, grinning like Cheshire cats. Some go right back into the river to “help” their mates but all they’re doing is splashing around as they did when they were young.
A pile of sand or mud was meant for rolling in, digging, sifting and throwing into the air. I made mud castles to storm it with my band of imaginary bandits and practiced that villainous “bru-ha-ha-ha” laugh to perfection.
While riding in the Nubra Valley one can’t help turning off the tarmac and head towards the dunes. As we walk without our riding boots in the fine sand, we imagine ourselves as Silk Route traders from Turkmenistan, with our double-humpbacked camels fully laden. But the view is no mirage: there are indeed lush pastures cradling the pristine stream on one side and the dunes surrounded by rugged mountains on the other.
A good tree was one I could climb. With a fluttering heart, I’d pull myself onto the higher branches, expecting at any moment to go crashing down. The thrill of looking into the distance from atop a tree made me feel brave, like I was on a wild adventure.
Riding higher and higher over the passes of Ladakh on our motorcycles is an adventure like no other. The narrow twisties that wind through the gorges and lead us to the lunar landscape or “moonland” of Lamayuru never fail to delight me. Besides the thin air, one also gets breathless out of awe of the innumerable shades of mountains that keep unfolding all the way up to the beautiful pass of Fotu-La. Up here the view is what I think I was searching for from that treetop long ago.
Building tents with bed sheets or carton boxes was my way of being in the land far-far away. I’d be transported to a magical place as soon as I entered my tent of make-believe. The night sky would be filled with shooting stars, while inside our flashlight lit faces would discuss our wild expedition.
Reaching the sapphire Pangog lake or the Tso-Moriri lake in the high Himalayan desert is surreal but almost how I imagined it to be. But it’s impossible to be prepared for the actual sensation one feels until you get there after a day of riding over gravel and dirt. The cool breeze sending ripples upon the deep blue lake and the wispy clouds above makes you want to dance with delight. It is only while sipping your second or third cup of chai sitting inside your tent overlooking the lake that you get this sense of deja-vu. Yes, this is that magical tent from my childhood!
In case you had too much homework growing up or little time to clown around like me, someone did say, “you’re never too old to have a happy childhood.” So grab that motorcycle, ride around Ladakh and let that kid within dream and play!!
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