Unfortunately Brian is still a man down so with a little time on my hands, and to lighten the mood, I thought I’d post the blog I’d written on route from Darjeeling to Kathmandu. 

Things are still no clearer for us here, information is hard to find and there seems to be a general exodus from Kathmandu. My brother Ed, who’s an officer in the Gurkhas Engineering Core, is helping us with contacts on the ground.  People offering us their home and help in such an hour of need is very humbling. Regular tremors keep us on our toes but in general we’re safe.  Fingers crossed we’ll be on the road out tomorrow.

NEPAL-EASY PEASY?

The Himalayan baptism has continued with our last stint being inundated with a multitude of firsts. We took our first over-the-handlebars tumble, our physical breaking point was surpassed, Delhi belly showed it’s colourful face for the first time and we witnessed a randy goat roger a willing farmyard pussy cat (surely a first). Welcome to the Himalayas, at this altitude, anything goes!

Our paths crossed amiably again in Darjeeling with our cycle buddies from London, Andre and Claire, on their journey East. Fate also dealt us a card in the form of Brians friend Ronan, whom he hadn’t seen since Irish camp 25 years ago.  He was house-sitting in the East of the city and we enjoyed a surreal evening catching up on growing up by the warmth of a roaring fire.  Chats were cut short by an ominous storm and its lighting bolt filled belly on the horizon.  Watching it tumble over the mountains was mind-blowing. Walking back to our hostel whilst being swept and washed off our feet was, as ever in the Himalayas, another first.

The effects of the storm were bombastic. Trees, like fallen soldiers, scattered the misty mountain passes on our road out the next morning.  An undulating day in the saddle before we descended for the Nepalese border on the plains South of the Himalayas. Post a successful border crossing and good kip we were back to the climbs before you could say tickle-my-giblets! And onto our first Nepalese mountain stop, Fillick. 

The aftermath of a Himalayan storm

It was a further couple of days ascent before we reached Ilam, where we’d decided to take a few days off for my birthday.  This hill station had been written up in our guides as Darjeelings Nepalese counterpart.  What greeted us was far more idyllic. A small town interwoven between the tea fields and rural mountains.

Beautiful Ilam

Rainbow houses in the hills of Ilam

It’s Meat Thursdays in Nepal as the town market came alive with the regions protein source.  Turning the corner from the cacophony of spice and vegetable traders, there before us was a goat being beheaded, drained and the fir scrapped from his hide with boiling water!  In the yard behind the dextrous butcher were said goats friends as well as a huddle of nervous pot-bellied pigs.  I’ve worked for a number of brands in bringing to life their supply chain stories but this sumptuous Dutch Masters vision of butchery couldn’t have been more transparent if you tried. No marketing agencies needed here, what you see is what you get.

Meat Thursdays in Action. A pig being prepped stage right and the next on the menu, stage left!

In typical style, our route on took us to where even Google Maps didn’t go.  Locals seemed surprised we hadn’t a guide and before long, as the road become a fight with boulders and dust, we knew why. All fair game until the decent, on what most closely resembled a dry tempestuous riverbed, when my front bag caught and I gracefully flew over the handle bars landing in a gangling 6’2’ mess.  Thankfully superficial wounds only.

Rocky road

The region we were now in is considered the most rustic of rural Nepal. Mud and thatch houses hug the slopes and mountain sides with their animals tethered in adjoining mangers like medieval dwellings from a bygone era.  Families grow both their veggies and protein, entirely self-sufficient in an isolated an unforgiving landscape.  These privileged glimpses through the doorway of a different world are the treasure we hunt and reason we cycle.

Dutch Masters bucolic inspiration

Spot the amorous goat and cat!

The ball shattering decent took us to our camping spot on the banks of the Tamur river. A quick bathe pre dinner and we were bedding down nestled into one of the remotest and most scenic spots to date.  Come midnight the heavens opened and with the climb the next day being only slightly better than our descent the night before, the challenge was on.  At points the road looked as if a farmer had taken the plough to it. An arduous day full of walking, sweating and teetering on the edge of our physical breaking point got us to the top.

The road ahead from our descent

Wild camping magic

A painful ascent

We were certainly in the thick of it by now and had a few more days deep in the mountains ahead.  In Myanglung we celebrated Nepalese new year and partook in the local tipple and a goat offal curry.  The local tipple = yum, the goat offal curry = ouch! A day off for stomachs, muscles and minds was welcomed before we took on the next passes to the town of Bhedetar. Sitting on the edge of the range with a view of the mighty Everest.

The longer we’ve spent in the mountains the more we appreciate early morning and the amber glow of a passing day as their most enchanting. The heat, height and dazzlement of midday Photoshop their features. Though as the sun arrives and bids farewell the lines and edges of her cracks, crevices and creases are set back by the shadows to where they belong. Our ‘lines’ tell a story. Each mark, ridge and fold is a part of where we’ve been and these magnificent monuments are a vision of how wonderful things become through the passing of time. Turning 34 may mean a few more wrinkles, but I hope too there will be suitable stories behind each one 🙂

Views a plenty

It took us three days to reach Bhedetar where it was time to let the legs recover.  Misty mornings unfortunately kept Everest just out of sight and we finally learned the ‘no-street-food’ rule. As my muscles cried out for protein the pork was just too enticing.  Delhi Belly smacked like a hammer, though luckily our first night post Bhedetar we stayed in the staff room of a private hospital.  Things went from bad to worse and antibiotics were dished out as a parting gift the next morning.

We were now on the flat for three days with a chance to open our stride and plough through the miles.  The temperature was a moist 40 degrees so it was 5 am starts and heavy on the hydration front.  After being in the mountains for so long it gave us a different taste of Nepal and whilst crossing the mammoth Koshi river, an amalgamation of seven tributaries, we were lucky enough to see a pod of rare Gangetic Dolphins. 

The bridge over Sun Koshi

It was as if we came back to Nepal as we rose off the plains on our final leg to Kathmandu.  It’s absolutely a country most comfortable and at home in the mountains and if ever a road could be described as beautiful, it would be this one.  Finished four months ago through a Japanese team and investment project, at times it felt like we were riding a Scalextric set or weaving our way to the peak of a monstrous fort.  The Nepalese are rightly very proud of what was, without a doubt, our most noble ride so far.

Scalextric mountain roads

Namaste for now folks

T&B

xx