‘At 3800m, both bike and rider struggle to breathe’
thrown at the Enfield Himalayans they just happily keep on chugging along. You might not be able to pop the front over potholes, or win any land speed records, but you will get to where you need to be with a huge grin under that helmet. Sometimes simplicity is the key to happiness. Much of the route is just about wide enough for one four-wheeled vehicle, with sheer cliff on one side and a sheer drop on the other, no railing in sight. Watching the bike in front of you lose rear traction on a wet rock pointing bike and rider directly at certain death becomes pretty normal, and it’s here where ‘slow and steady’ really does win the race. Hugging an imaginary railing whilst letting a bus past also becomes quite normal. Remember that scene on Top Gear when Clarkson is up against the edge of Death Road in Bolivia? Yeah, that, but with bikes and buses.
More oxygen please Motorcycle adventures shouldn’t be just about the riding, they are also about the experiences you absorb along the way, and for me the Muktinath Temple was the highlight of the trip. The final roads up to the temple – glorious, winding tarmac, glistening in the Himalayan sun – call out to bikers, and complete the final 500m climb up the mountain. At 3800m both bike and rider are struggling to breathe; the Himalayan has 24.5 horses at best but now it seems like it’s running on 15 Shetland ponies.
With the bikes parked and after the obligatory photo, it was time to look around. Known as the Temple of Salvation, Buddhists and Hindus believe that life is a cycle of birth and rebirth and some travel extraordinary distances to visit this holy place, hoping their homage here will break this endless cycle and achieve them nirvana. The temple grounds ooze calm and tranquility, perhaps aided by the fact I’m slightly hypoxic. I am not a religious person, but I’d defy anyone to not feel some level of enlightenment at this place.
India? Rude not to
It’s starting to get very warm and muggy. As the traffic swells, I follow the locals off-road, jumping the little bike off the tarmac and into the dirt. The sight of the Indian border on the horizon gives a sense of accomplishment and relief. After a few hours of riding, my nose has collected levels of dust that a Dyson would be envious of. Not only that, but heavy traffic and low speeds also mean the vents in my jacket are no longer cooling me down. It’s hot! Once off the bike, my jacket hanging off my handlebars and flapping in the passing thermals, the realism of our location hit home. The Indian border! We’re buzzing; never in a million years did I think I’d be standing here next to my motorcycle. This also validates one of my golden rules of adventure: don’t over-plan. I like to have a rough idea of what I’d like to see and how I’d like to get there, but I try to avoid hard timings as they do not give the flexibility to grab golden opportunities like these when they present themselves.
After an hour or so absorbing the moment, it’s time to jump back on and continue east through the tropics of southern Nepal. We still have a few days of riding before this amazing adventure comes to an end. Those monkeys in the road aren’t going to dodge themselves, and the incredible mountainous switchbacks on the pass back toward Kathmandu are hungry for our chicken strips.