We woke to a gloriously clear morning, the day it came to leave. After packing our bags, we rushed up to the rooftop of our budget hotel, and took in that view one last time, before heading down to load up the bikes and grab some breakfast from the small local cafe below. A slight frost had settled atop the trees on the opposite side of the lake, as we rode out of Pokhara, adorned in our thermal tops and neck warmers. They would soon be removed as we began the ascent out of Pokhara, a climb that gradually ramped through the valley, and eventually opened out to breathtaking views of Annapurna, Machapuchare and the neighbouring peaks. We'd certainly picked a peach of a day to ride out.
Check out that view! The mountains look alright too
The glorious Machapuchare teasing us as we rode out of Pokhara. It was hard to leave
Unlike previous days, the clouds left the mountains untouched until after noon, which made for a truly special morning on the bikes. We've always stuck true to our theory, that the more hills thrown at you in a day, tends to mean the more spectacular the riding will be. And that was very much the case on this day. Having mapped out the route prior to setting off from Pokhara, we were aware that we were faced with 3,800m of vertical climbing - considering Mt Cook (NZ's tallest mountain) peaks out at 3,724m, we had our work cut out for us. We rode through small village after small village, and the traffic was sparse for Nepal's standards. What's more, the roads behaved themselves for the most part of the day, with the odd section of gravel, dust and bumps, with our fair share of potholes thrown in the midst.
One of the many reasons we love Nepal. You can see why this was our favourite ride day of the trip
With 30kms left in the days play, and all of us coming to the consensus that this was hands down the most beautiful ride we'd ever done, there was still climbing to be done yet. It was after 3pm by this point, and we still had the Category 1 hill climb to tackle. We were racing the sun, as we charged up the steep slopes in the shade of the hill above, watching the road snake up through the valley. Fred and I were both aware that the route we'd mapped earlier was not in fact the whole day's ride, and there was more on the agenda than Sean was led to believe. As he trooped his way up the slope behind us, we eventually summited, and rode the ridge lines towards the final difficulty. The steepest and narrowest roads of the day, which would take our total vertical metres climbed to 4,293m, led us to the hilltop town of Tansen - the street that led to our hotel was like a European alley with the steepness of Baldwin Street (this is not true because Baldwin Street is the steepest street in the world, and I've never been to Europe so don't believe a word I say). Needless to say, it bloody well felt like it, and we were all relieved once our bags were dumped in our room, the bikes were safely stowed, and we discovered a water cooler in our hotel. On days like these, you really appreciate the bottomless khana (Nepali thali), as each round of rice, dahl, vegetable curry and spinach is twice as big as the first, which is usually a decorative formality.
The view from Tansen, just after arriving from a long day in the saddle. Gotta climb the mountain to see the view they say
After a nice morning walk through the hilltop town, and our regular breakfast of chia, samosas and Nepali donuts, we began the descent towards Lumbini. Having done our share of climbing the day prior, we were rewarded with a day of downhill, as we carved through the valleys, giving our new brakepads a good workout. Just before we exited the shadow of the hills, the roads turned to arse, and we slowly made our way towards the Terai, with plumes of dust erupting before us, courtesy of the thoroughfare of trucks. Turns out they somehow built the roads better in the hills than on the plains, with progress being slowed as result. On one occasion we had to carry the bikes through a hole in the road. Quite bizarre really.
Fred rocking the descent through the gorge. A much easier day on the cards after the gruelling climbs of the day before
Sven's bike
Gorge-ous
And then the roads took a turn. The photo doesn't do it justice. Without suspension, progress is slowed significantly
Wee bit dusty
A rare occasion where we had to carry the bikes through the road. Not the lightest bikes to manoeuvre in these situations
We arrived in Lumbini not long after midday, and after cold showers, we headed out to see the birthplace of Buddha. As we entered the building housing the marking stone of Buddhas birthplace (didn't look overly comfortable to be born on a rock if I'm honest), we were informed by a local soldier/security guard that we had to remain silent while in the building. This being said, he kept talking to us and pointing out the different currencies that lay scattered across the floor of the complex - Thai baht, USD, Malaysian Ringgit, Cambodian Riel, Indian & Nepali rupees - a little time warp of the trip's currencies. We roamed around the complex, observing devout Buddhists paying their respects, as the vibrant prayer flags we have come to love flapped gently in the breeze.
Butter candles burning in the temples of Lumbini, giving off a very distinctive smell
Monks going about their prayers, just outside the building where Buddha's birthplace is marked
The Buddhist flags and prayer flags - a sight we became very familiar with over our month in Nepal
Our friend, Tony, who we'd met at breakfast back at Hotel Tibet in Kathmandu, had told us that the people in Nepal become friendlier and friendlier the higher you get. Back on the plains, it felt as though we had returned to India. With Nepal and India sharing an open border for locals, it didn't surprise us, but we were skeptical about our decision to ride to the far western border of Nepal to avoid riding the plains of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. Varanasi was the obvious casualty of that decision, but would riding the western plains of Nepal be that much better than the ride through Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, just to see the Holy City?
Answer = yes it was.
I can't say I've ridden the roads from Nepal to Varanasi, and from there to Agra, but we'd read enough cycle blogs and have accounts from our parents who rode a similar route in 1988, that urged us to stay in Nepal. Having left Lumbini, and turned north after 60kms (away from India), we were met with a small climb, and immediately the demographic change was noticeable, and so too the scenery.
We were treated to some of the most spectacular riding on flat terrain we've ever come across, passing through the Banke, Bardia and Shuklaphanta National Parks on our way to the western border. Each park was home to the famed Bengali Tiger and other exotic species, with some of the rivers infested with crocodiles, making both camping and swimming a wee bit dodge. With accomodation so cheap, we weren't too bothered.
Mustard flowers on the plains of the Terai. Fields would be a sea of green and yellow as we rode west
Crocodile infested waters. On the other side of this bridge, there were 7 crocs lurking. This was the Bardia National Park
Just another classic bridge photo of our wonderful bikes
A private performance from a local busker while we had our morning chia and donut break. He sure could play that little violin-type instrument, and sing!
In Kohalpur, Fred and I hit up the local fair that was pumping on the Saturday afternoon we arrived. With hoards of locals on their way home, we were worried we'd missed out, but that was certainly not the case. After one of the sketchiest rides of my life on a rickety old Ferris Wheel that spun at uncomfortably brisk speeds, we decided to check out the performance stage, where a popular female vocalist was plucking the heart strings of a boisterous and rowdy crowd of young teens. While we watched at a comfortable distance, we noticed the sparsity of our surrounding disappear, and before long we had become quite the attraction ourselves. One intoxicated youth began dancing rather promiscuously in front of me, viciously squeezing both of my cheeks and trying to grab my hands to get me to start dancing. After politely refusing on numerous occasions, I realised my abstinence was fruitless, as the cheek squeezes became far too frequent, and the crowd far too dense. I delved into the extensive bank of dance moves I've developed over the years of visiting some of Auckland's top Saturday night clubs: Revelry... yeah just Revelry. I must admit, it's not quite as easy to dance sober, but when you're essentially conducting a crowd of 200 Nepalese locals, the ego grows, and the moves come naturally. And then there's always Freddie, who somehow manages to make me feel like a good dancer whenever he dances in the vicinity! Fortunately the performance was into the encores by the time we'd joined in, so we didn't have to cut too many shapes before the termination of events. I guess that's the closest we'll ever come to being celebrities. It's exhausting stuff!
The morning after the fair. There stands the Ferris Wheel that could have claim our lives
The next day, after yet another glorious ride through tiger-infested national park, we arrived in the quaint riverside town of Chisapani. We spent the night with our lovely host, Padam, and a small group of his friends, which slowly grew as the guitar was brought out. The session took on a call and response type structure, as we sang a Western song, which was then followed up by a local song (one of Padam's friends insisting on 'playing' the guitar, which consisted of him open strumming and trying to shred with his left hand, despite never playing the guitar in his life - an amusing combination). As we sung 'Cocaine' by Eric Clapton, we sparked them off on a local song which sounded suspiciously similar. The local whiskey came out, before calling it a night. The Nepalese hospitality living up to its reputation once again.
Trying out my new downhill position. I was thinking of calling it the 'Joe Rokocoko Nut Cracker'
The young kids of Chisapani teaching us their best poses. This was one of our favourites
A rather photogenic goat who hung with us on our walk up the river. Sean named him Billy
Though a lot of the old women in Nepal seemed baffled by our presence, this old lady was particularly smiley and happy for us to be playing around with her grandchildren
They love a photoshoot in these parts
Padam (in the hat) belting out a local bangger!
Padam urging me to sing in Nepalese, as I drummed on the table. The kids loved it
Our room in Chisapani - cheap and basic, but that's all we need
Padam - New Dolphin Lodge & Hotel, Chisapani
Overnight we were kept up by a gale force wind that was funneling through the valley, with a loose bit of iron banging away on the roof above us. Fortunately that gale was behind us the next morning, though as Padam had said, it only blew up the valley, meaning after 3kms of some serious pace, we re-entered the foggy mist that would consume our morning once again. We dreaded the prospect of leaving Nepal. We weren't sure if we were up to dealing with the stress of India for three more weeks, and as we crossed over the border, our patience was put to the test immediately. A border official of some description stopped us before immigration, demanding our details that he would fill into his silly little book. Despite handing over our passports and arrival cards, which had all the appropriate information to complete the entry, he proceeded to ask us our names, visa numbers, passport numbers, and, get a piece of this, our gender! We of course replied "female" - don't think he got the joke.
Despite gale force winds in the morning, visibility dropped rapidly after we distanced ourselves from the valley
13,000kms ticked off
In Nepal, the road signs can be misleading if you don't know the local numerals. Though it looks like 98kms to the next town, it is in fact 14kms as the 1's look like 9's and the 4's look like 8's
All the things we loved about Nepal began to fade rather abruptly, with chai stop crowds returning instantly, horn use proliferating, as well as the immediate increase in the sheer density of human existence! There sure are a lot of people in India. It is a real problem. It's very easy to pass it off when you're at home, but when you actually come here and experience a 'small' town, you begin to understand the problems this country has. It's not just the mass of people, it's the lack of education surrounding the treatment of animals, the environment and women. Boy am I glad to be from New Zealand! We have a 37 year old female Prime Minister, who is soon to be taking maternity leave! How good is that! And then there's India. Never a lady in the crowd that surrounds us. We simply have to presume that they're off doing all the work while the men mob around the young white boys on bikes and stare. Personal space is not a thing here. I guess that's simply a product of overpopulation in this country.
On our first chai stop back in India we met these guys, with the man on the right shouting us two rounds of chai. Nice guys & best hospitality in India since being on the road
When driving in India, you only have to worry about the front of your vehicle, as those behind you will mind your rear. It would seem this tuk tuk driver took this idea to the next extreme with rather limited rear view
A group of men in Bareilly watching India play South Africa at cricket
Sitting down for chai, and the light slowly diminishes, as the crowd converges
POEM: SELFIE CYCLE
Cycle cycle cycle, we're cy-c-ling all day
We do the selfie cycle all the way to New Delhi
When we stop for chai, we always draw a crowd
The driving is erratic and their horns are very loud
They run from far and wide, and give us little space
They'll stop and stare, they sure don't care, no smiles on their face
They stand around and ponder, there's not a lot to do
Except to watch the western folk, until the day is through!
Would a smile hurt?
The one in the foreground essentially standing on my toes
A relaxing break - selfies, selfies and more selfies
55:0 men to women ratio
A selfie of our own - sadly this only spurred on their desire to take more selfies
I feel like I'm venting. I apologise. It's just when you come from such a great country (Nepal) that seems so much more progressive than the one you cross into, it's hard not to draw comparisons between the two. Fortunately we had the pleasure of sharing a night in Hathras with fellow cycle tourers, Matt and Jasi (@pedalpromise), who shared a very similar view on riding in these parts of India. Though our collective exploits on the road include punching a bus, intentionally cutting motorbikes off the road, head-butting a drunk local and spraying vehicles with water (yeah we're real hard men!), nothing can compare to our own father carrying a tray of eggs in his top bag back in 1988, and egging trucks as they came too close. We discussed our respective trips over dosas and beers, with Matt telling us that we'd reinvigorated his desire to cycle, after being worn down by the Indian drivers and roads over the last month. The derogatory nature of Indian society was also a point of discussion, with Jasi being constantly hounded by sleazy locals for selfies. One man had even asked how many rupees it would cost to have sex with her. They have no shame. It is quite disgusting.
Our beloved samosas, served on dried banana leaf plates - now there's an idea for a sustainable, disposable plate. Book me in for a patent there @BrookDyerOfficialPatentAttorney2018
A real life female! A rare species in India
The chaos of the day, makes way for the tranquility of the morning. They're late risers in these parts
Matt looking forward to Nepal after everything we'd told him. He and Jasi have us equally excited for Georgia, Turkey and the European leg!
The cycling squad, which sadly would not become a convoy. Crazy to think we crossed paths after all this time
Jasi and Matt, on their way back to Matt's hometown in Australia, having left from Jasi's family home in Bern, Switzerland
Naturally five western cycle tourers drew a crowd as we had our photos taken and said our goodbyes
Fred and Matt comparing notes on the different rides. Matt had an awesome horn on his bike that he'd acquired in Mumbai. A very useful accessory in this loud environment
In the morning we parted ways. It was such a shame we weren't headed in the same direction, so we could ride in convoy and share more moments like those we'd had in Hathras. It was a miracle that we were able to cross paths on our respective voyages across the globe. We made our way down towards Agra in a much more positive spirit having met two great people, who I'm sure we'll cross paths with again somewhere along the line.
A rare chai stop where the crowd never came. Bliss!
The terracotta cups they use for chai make for great souvenirs. Otherwise they're simply tossed on the ground and shattered
I obviously found this amusing - a local forcing Sean to take his photo
A cheeky teaser for the next blog. You should read it when it comes out. The photos are mean
