Date: Thu, 11 May 2006
To: touring@phred.org
From: “Michael Ayers” <michael@terminalia.org>
Subject: Gondwana - Nice rides and a New day Nears in
Nepal; 1-2-3
Namaste Phreds,
The small, yet famous, Himalayan
nation of Nepal served as the crossroads for my Stage through Asia, having
hosted me on three separate occasions between the beginning of March and the
end of April.
The country has been a
major tourist destination for the past fifty years, or so, popular with
budget-conscious gap-year travelers, trekkers, culture enthusiasts, ‘60’s
counter-culture enthusiasts, and mountaineers, among others. Geographically,
Nepal shows several similarities to Bhutan, being oriented on the southern
slopes of the Himalaya, with the main range, including Sagamartha
(the “other” name for Qomalangma, the World’s tallest
mountain,) comprising the border between Nepal and Tibet. There are two
important differences between the two countries, however. The long, generally east-west,
axis is two and a half times longer in Nepal relative to Bhutan. Additionally,
Nepal possess a 20-30 kilometer-wide swath of land, known as the Tarai, along its southern border with India that is
out of the realm of the Himalaya and generally flat. These factors give Nepal a
much more varied landscape than Bhutan, leading to more agriculture, and
allowing it to support a much larger population. That population is comprised
of exceptionally pleasant people who can trace their heritage back to common
ancestors with most of the neighboring peoples of south Asia. With an economy
largely dependent on tourism, there is enough developed infrastructure, in
places at least, to make touring rather easy, but with enough traditional
culture and built structures to keep things exceptionally interesting.
However, probably the main
concern in visiting Nepal in recent times has been the low-level civil war
which has been ongoing for at least 13-years.
The protagonists are the monarchy, currently led by King Gyanendra, a decidedly uncharismatic fellow, with his
allies in the military and police, and an armed group known in the media as the
“Maoists,” who left mainstream politics over a decade ago and began an armed
rebellion in order to set up a socialist republic presumably styled on the
teachings of Mao, and who receive most of their membership and support from the
large, and often ignored, rural population. The conflict had sputtered off and
on for years, with the Maoists controlling large territories in the west of the
country, fairly far from the main tourist areas. Fighting was largely confined
to small, but violent, gun battles between rebel groups and military-police
units stationed around the country. With neither force able to gain the upper
hand, the war has simmered on for years, becoming a virtual stalemate.
As I planned my tour,
beginning several years ago, I kept a close eye on news reports from Nepal, to
see if the situation would deteriorate to a state that would prevent me from
visiting. During most of that time I was fairly critical and suspicious of the
often-violent Maoists and their intentions. After all, who in this age would
ally themselves with Mao, he of corrupt, or just bizarre, ideas like the
Cultural Revolution and a hundred million backyard steel furnaces? Of course, I
couldn’t be sure whether the group really had signed on to Mao’s philosophies
or if the label of Maoists had been given to them by others. However, recently
it became more obvious that the monarchy really was as out-of-touch, or even
corrupt, as the opposition had been claiming all along. That became even more
clear 16 months ago when Gyanendra, who only became
King several years ago when his nephew, then heir to the throne, massacred the
former king and most of the Royal family, before committing suicide (of course,
the actual facts behind that event may never be known,) made a monumental
blunder. Without any warning he summarily eliminated the country’s elected
Parliament, assuming virtual dictatorial powers. His claim was that only he
could deal with the Maoist rebellion. In the months that followed, no real
progress toward peace, let alone victory, was made and the country slowly
declined into disorder and chaos. A few people advised caution, or even
recommended that I not go, but I knew that as long as there were no major
escalations, and the stalemate continued, that the
risk of experiencing any problems would be extremely low. What did worry me was
the possibility of widespread events like general strikes, which could affect
my ability to obtain food or other necessities. Of course, those sorts of
events actually began to occur just as my visits neared.
My first tour through
Nepal, in early March, would be fairly short and fairly easy, but quite
pleasant. My route at that time was to take me from Darjeeling in northeast
India, to Agra, in north-central India, near Delhi. As it turns out the most
direct route between those places passes through Nepal, traversing the eastern
half of the Tarai. So I went that way, taking the opportunity
to visit one of my main destinations in Nepal along the way. Back when I was in
Myanmar, the Maoists had called a general strike during sham municipal
elections set up by the King, and the country had been shut down for several
days (while in Bhutan, I met another tourist who was in Nepal during the strike
and she told me that it was not such a big problem.) However, things had been
stable for several weeks, so I wasn’t overly concerned. I entered the country
for the first time at the easternmost border crossing, which was a bit hard to
find as my stupid Nelles map showed the main highway
in India heading straight into Nepal at that point. Of course that was wrong,
and the way to the real border was along an unmarked gravel road that veered
off to the right, beyond a small local vegetable market. That error caused me
to ride an extra 20 kilometers that day. Eventually, after fairly easy border
formalities, I entered Nepal at the town of Kakarbhitta
which was considerably larger than the little market on the Indian side, but
not particularly well stocked with food or supplies.
From there followed three
and a half days of rather long, flat rides along Highway 1, which runs along a
mostly east-west course across the Tarai. Several events and observations were notable.
The road condition took a drastic step up from what it had been in recent
weeks, with only an occasional rough patch. In some places it was wide enough
for two busses traveling in opposite directions to pass each other without
needing to push other road users off into the gravel, and without needing to
blast their infernal horns. A real treat. While the
roads improved, food in the Tarai took a turn for the
worse, dropping to a par with Bangladesh, or perhaps even a little worse. In
larger towns elsewhere in Nepal, especially those with a tourist presence, food
was usually excellent. Fortunately there
were enough of such places later along the way, because if the whole nation had
fare like that along the Tarai, I would have been
thinner than I am now by the time I left. On the other hand, towns in Nepal
felt a little more like real towns than the typical collection of ramshackle
buildings thrown up along the roadside that comprised most towns in Bangladesh
and West Bengal. To be sure, most every building still needed a coat of paint,
but at least there was a resemblance to a town square, complete with a statue
of a former king, in most towns. Outside of the towns there were occasional
places that provided camping possibilities, such as wooded areas and riverbeds,
but due to the way the towns were spaced out I didn’t have a chance to take
advantage of them. It has been since I was in Myanmar that I’ve been able to
camp regularly and I really miss it. However, the crowds and the cold mountains
have made camping difficult for now. Hopefully later on I’ll have more
chances. Another thing
that I’d been missing since Bangladesh, but which returned in Nepal, was the
ability to interact with members of the gender to which I don’t belong.
With the exception of Bhutan, ladies and girls had been keeping largely to
themselves since I left Myanmar. Now they were back, walking along the
roadside, shouting greetings as I passed by, and working in the shops and
cafes. It was nice to see them again. Another event of note in the Tarai was a recurrence of my mysterious, yet serious,
mechanical issue with the bike. Once again, however, I’m going to postpone
revealing that until a later post.
In this section, the only
visible evidence of the ongoing conflict was the numerous military and police
checkpoints along the highway. They were usually just a small group of armed
soldiers posted next to a makeshift slalom course in the road, built from logs,
rocks, or barrels, which served to slow traffic down. However, this had no real effect on me as I
was never asked to stop at even one of these places anywhere throughout the
country. In fact, the soldiers were always quite friendly towards me, waving
and calling out greetings as I went by. They also proved to be good sources for
asking directions or for other local information as they seemed to know the
area well, and there was usually at least one member if their group who could
speak English.
The main destination of the
first tour in Nepal came next, with a nice rest stop at Royal Chitwan National Park, another World Heritage
Site. The large park preserves an area
of jungle, like that which once covered all of the Tarai,
as well as northern India, and is famous for its wildlife, especially the large
mammals. The park is served by the small tourist town of Sauraha,
which intermingles seamlessly with the surrounding traditional villages. I
found the town to be ideal, with just enough facilities to be useful, but
low-key enough to be completely relaxing. I stayed for a day and a half in a
nice place just outside of town called the Parkside Hotel. Once again, as I
seem to be doing with increasing regularity, I chose a place to stay, without
even seeing the main area of town, which was hidden away on the other side of a
bunch of traditional mud and thatch homes. That was ok,
as the hotel was the most comfortable and quietest place I’d been in quite a
while and had a very nice restaurant. The visit to the park the next day was
fun as well. The jungle walk I took in the morning was not very lucky in terms
of seeing animals, but the jungle itself was very impressive, and there were
some nice birds along the way. The real action came on the afternoon elephant
ride. Once I learned the proper way to sit in the little basket on the behemoth’s
back to avoid being tossed about like a rag doll, the fun really started. The
giant creature moved through the forest trails, which did not appear to be
especially wide, with surprising grace and stealth. In that respect, it was not long before the highlight
of the visit appeared, namely my first ever sightings of wild rhinoceros. We
saw two separate pairs, one accompanied by a group of Pea Cocks, and since they
are not afraid of elephants, even when they have people on their backs, I got a
nice long look. Very impressive.
The final day of the first
visit to Nepal, was a long ride further west and back to India. The day was
broken by a big thunderstorm, which I had to sit out, the first real rain I’d
seen in a long time. Also seen for the first time in a long while (not since
Thailand) was another pair of bike tourists. This time a young couple from St.
Petersburg, who were planning on riding through Nepal, and then down into
India. They appeared to be complete novices at the time, but I’m sure they aren’t
by now. The border crossing into India at Birganj/Sonauli I spoke of in an earlier post, but it was notable
as the best accommodations, food and services all appeared to be on the Nepali
side.
My second visit to the
country, almost two weeks later, was when I planned to do most of the main
touring and sightseeing in Nepal. While I was down in India, the Nepali Maoists
called a nationwide transport blockade. I had mixed feelings about that, since
it could affect my ability to feed myself. On the other hand, assuming that I
would be allowed to ride past the blockades, which I probably would have been,
I would really have enjoyed the deserted roadways. The chance was missed,
however as the blockade ended a few days before I returned. After the often
harrowing section to and from Agra, I was feeling a little run down as I
crossed back over the same border at Birganj.
Nevertheless, I took the opportunity to make a little detour to visit another
World Heritage Site, Lumbini, the birthplace of
Buddha. Actually, there wasn’t too much to see there, which was probably a good
thing, as I really didn’t have the time to linger very long. There was,
however, a nice stupa, called the World Peace Pagoda, another large temple, and
several study/meditation centers built by various countries throughout the
Buddhist world. Most of the complex was fairly deserted, however, and it felt a
little odd.
I next continued towards Pokhara, a resort town in the hills in the shadow of Anapurna, one of the Himalayas main peaks. I had hoped to
get there in a single day to have a full day to rest, but I was still shaking
off the effects of the bad food I ate in Agra, and I had to stop just short,
and finish the ride the next morning. There was a 900-meter climb, followed by
a slightly shorter descent, and then another 400-m climb. The way I felt, the
climbs were a little taxing, but the roadways were fairly good, and so the
descent was one of the nicer ones I’d had in a long while. The area had also
become more like what I had expected from Nepal, with many friendly rural
villages and farms along the way, and a feel that was more Himalayan than
Indian. In contrast to my earlier visit to Bhutan, Spring
was now much farther along and the hills and valleys were beginning to show
that characteristic shade of green, which cheered me considerably. Finally arriving in Pokhara,
I planned only to rest, sleep, and hopefully eat, assuming my system would
allow that. Fortunately, a pharmacy there had an excellent remedy for my
situation, and by afternoon my appetite had returned. There were an abundance
of good places to eat in town, most of them located in the tourist enclave
called Lakeside. Usually, I avoid those sorts of places as they are too
touristy, but this time, as I didn’t feel so great, the area was just the
ticket.
From Pokhara
it was 200 kilometers of mostly valley riding to the next destination,
Kathmandu, the famous capital city. However, I added a little side visit, to
the hill town of Gorkha, which added another 48 km,
making the ride more amenable to two reasonably light days. The detour to Gorkha was at the end of the first day, and though it
included a 600-meter climb to the town, which I really didn’t need, it was a
nice day, and a Gorkha was very interesting place to
see. It is the ancestral home of the (for the moment, at least) royal family of
Nepal. Though the Maoists have a strong presence in the surrounding countryside
(the only indication I saw of that was a large amount of graffiti urging a
boycott of some past election) the army had kept Gorkha
tightly in its control. It is a small, but pleasant, town with an essentially
car-free zone in the historic quarter of town that was a pleasure to walk
through. A steep trail from there led up another 250-m to the Gorkha Durbar, the ancient palace of the small principality
which eventually became the birthplace of the unified nation of Nepal.
The next day was rather
nice as I was feeling much better, there were some good places to get food
along the way, and the first part of the route was over fairly gentle terrain,
following the valley of the beautiful Trisali River.
The end of the day was a little tougher, however. There was a 540-m climb up to
the Kathmandu valley, which lies at 1350 meters, that was a little longer than
I had expected. It was made worse when I noticed a huge queue of trucks and
busses stopped along the roadside. I assumed that it was a rest area, or such
place, but the line went on and on, heading in the uphill direction, for what
must have been the last 5 km of the climb.
Narrow to start, the winding road was now less than a small lane wide
and every time that someone came down the hill a huge jam-up resulted. At the
summit, which took me much longer than I had expected to reach, the cause was
apparent. There was a rather tight checkpoint right at the top, obviously meant
to protect the capital, and not many vehicles were passing through. I just
rolled on by, of course, and after the rather short descent, arrived in
Kathmandu. It was just about dark by that time, and I was not looking forward
to navigating through such a chaotic city.
Actually, it was not nearly as bad as others that I’ve been through, or
perhaps I’m just getting used to such places.
Eventually, I found my way
to, and through, the Old City, where I planned to stay. Kathmandu also has a
tourist enclave, called Thamel, but this time I had
no desire to stay there amidst all the souvenir shops. The old city was much
more to my tastes, though the place I stayed was a real dive. That didn’t
matter much as I only planned to stay just long enough to get my visa for
Tibet, and do a few other chores. Sightseeing in that very interesting city
would wait for my third visit. The old city was a great place to wander
through, however, its narrow streets, which connect numerous temples and
shrines, pulsed with crowds browsing the street vendors and shops all
throughout the day. It was easy to get lost walking through there, but that was
part of its appeal. After one day off in
town, the last day of this section was a ride up to the Tibet border to begin
my tour there. That was also a very nice ride, at least after clearing the
influence if the city. A long 900-m descent out of the valley was followed by a
long section through very beautiful countryside, concurrent with a gradual
elevation gain, which passed through many picturesque rural villages. A night
spent at the bungy-jumping resort, and then I was off
to Tibet, the final Nepal section to follow in three or four weeks.
The third visit was meant
to be the shortest of the three, with only a quick ride back from the Tibet
border to Kathmandu, two or three days of rest and sightseeing there, followed
by another quick ride back to India. As it turned out, the third time was in
many ways the most interesting of all. Things had begun to change very quickly
in Nepal during the months that I was in the area. The members of the ousted
Parliament, whose seven political parties had joined together to provide a
unified opposition then made an inevitable and rather predictable move. After
biding their time for several months, they formed a loose alliance with the
Maoists, their former enemies, to oppose the King’s personal rule. While I was
in Tibet, the new alliance took action. A series of general strikes were
started and protests were organized in towns throughout the country, but
especially in Kathmandu. The King ordered daytime curfews in the capital and
gave the army shoot-on-sight authority. A perfect example of how leaders never
seem to learn that attempts to suppress public opinion by repressive actions such
as those only make their own position more tenuous. With several citizens
killed by the military in the first days of the events, what was meant to be a
few days of protests took on a life of their own and continued on for two weeks. While in Tibet I, of course, paid
as close attention to the news from Nepal as I could. Most of the other
tourists in Tibet had either just arrived from Kathmandu, or were about to go
there, so the situation was a frequent topic of conversation in the few places
where other tourists were to be found. As is often the case, there seemed to be
a lot of less-than-accurate information being tossed about, but the general
opinion, which I shared, was that there was still no reason to stay away for
now.
With that in mind, my plans
had not changed, and I hoped to ride from Nyalam, 35
km north of the border, to Kathmandu, or close to it, in a single day in order
to have three full days there. Well, my trudge through the avalanche fields and
snow south of Nyalam put an end to that plan. After that I only had enough time and energy
to get as far as Barhabise, the first town in Nepal
with accommodation (I also seemed to have forgotten just how rocky and slow the
first 20 km south of the border were). That would leave the final 90-km section
to the city until the next day, a Saturday.
I began as early as I could
that day, to get to town as soon as possible.
The first half of the ride seemed to have a lot more rolling terrain
than what I remembered from when I rode it in the opposite direction, or
perhaps I was just a little worn out from Tibet. Spring had continued its
advance in the interim as well, and the area was now a beautiful green. There were occasional places where there had
been roadblocks in recent days, though most were just some logs or rocks spread
out across the road, and I could easily roll right past. Consequently, traffic
on the highway was even lighter than it had been when I traveled the other way
earlier, which was a big plus. When I reached the low point on the route, at Dalalghat where the road crosses a tributary of the Sun
Kori River, I stopped to get a drink and a snack and I asked the shopkeeper
whether the road was open all the way to Kathmandu. He said that it was, but
that in the city there were “Objections” going on. I found that to be a rather
endearing Engrish alternative to the word
protests.
Continuing on I immediately
began the 900-m climb back up to the Kathmandu valley. It seemed to take way,
way more time than it should have. I guess the performance boost I should have
received from recently riding at altitude never really materialized. What I did
notice right away, however, was that, while that section of highway was a
little busy the first time I rode it, on that day it was essentially void of
motorized traffic, as most transport in the country was still shut down. There
were, however, many people out walking along the road and it was nice to be
able to interact with them this time as opposed to just watching them zoom by
on some smelly bus. What an amazing
contrast for two separate rides on the same road! I don’t think I’ve ever seen
such a difference before. Eventually I reached the top of the climb and entered
the town of Bhaktapur, a mid-sized town adjoining the
capital. It should have been a quick 10 km or so to the Old City where I planned
to stay again.
In Bhaktapur
the streets were humming with people out walking about and once again it was a
big improvement to the first time I passed through when busses kept pushing me
of into the gravel siding. There were only a few signs of recent events in the
area, one burning tire and the shells of a couple of torched cars (they never
looked better.) I continued through town and soon observed that even in the
area outside of the commercial zone, there were still
lots of people walking along the road. Gradually, I began to notice that more
and more of these people were walking in the same direction that I was riding,
towards the city. The number of people kept growing, and when I had to slow to
walking speed it became clear that I had ridden right into the back end of the
day’s big “Objection.”
The advice that was
routinely given to tourists was to stay well clear of such events. However, in
this case there was really no way for me to do that, as there was only one road
into the city and it was becoming increasingly filled with Objectors. My
thoughts then were to try and get up to the front and past the block as quickly
as possible. That didn’t really work out, as though I could carefully wind my
way through the crowd at just above walking pace (those old Critical Mass
riding skills finally come in handy,) every time I thought I was getting close
to the front, the crowd of Objectors kept stretching off into the distance.
That was a really, really, large event. Estimates were that 100-200,000 people took
place and I think that was just about right.
As time went on, and it
became clear that it was going be a while before I arrived in the city, I let
myself get into the spirit of the day. It is no exaggeration to say that the
crowd represented all walks of life. Women, men, and children; young and old;
farmers, professionals, and laborers all were present that day. Just about
anyone who could speak English came up to me and said something like “We
want Democracy!” I usually responded that it would be soon and gave a
thumbs up, or “V” sign which always drew a hearty response. Many Objectors were
carrying the flags of the seven political parties, the Nepali Congress, the
Communists, and so on, but others were holding broken tree branches, which
seemed to be some sort of symbol of the movement. Someone handed one to me and
though it made it a little hard to ride, I carried it for a while. That gave me
even more clout with the crowd than I already had from simply being a
non-Nepali moving with the group, and an American as well.
Eventually, now at the edge
of the city after covering about five kilometers that way, with still no sign
of the front and the crowd beginning to stop more frequently near important
buildings to chant and cheer for a while, I decided that it might be a good
time to end my participation. Pausing for a moment to figure out what to do,
numerous people came up to me and shook my hand. In a moment, I veered off to
the south and tried to find an alternate way to my destination. A series of narrow
dirt streets, past kids playing cricket or badminton, led me through
seldom-visited neighborhoods of the city, and eventually to the adjacent town
of Patan. That little excursion was confusing and
lengthy, but it did give me an opportunity to see some interesting parts of the
city that I otherwise would not have seen. Of course, I really had no idea
where I was going or how to get to the Old City. So, when I saw another,
smaller group of Objectors marching through Patan, I
decided to follow them as they were undoubtedly heading towards a rendezvous
with the others at the center of the city. That worked quite well, and I had a
little more fun, and soon saw the main road that led into town. I veered off
that way and before long, reached the bridge that crosses the small river
between Patan and Kathmandu. Waiting there was a
group of soldiers and some armored vehicles. They told me I would not be
allowed to cross the bridge. While I was standing there, trying to decide what
to do, I heard several “booms” emanating from the other side of the river that
I took to be tear gas canisters being fired.
I could see people quickly scattering around on the opposite side and I
knew it was time to find yet another route.
Eventually, after winding around
through more forgotten neighborhoods, I found a smaller bridge that was well
away from the military units, and which led me right into the Old City. Still
officially under a curfew, the area, which was so crowded the first time that I
essentially had to walk through the streets, was now a complete ghost town. Yet another unbelievable contrast. Consequently, it was a
simple matter to find the, much nicer, hotel that I had chosen for my rest
break in town. That particular place had cable TV in the rooms and when I
arrived I flicked on the set for a little distraction, and CNN was the channel
that came up first. That instant they
started a Breaking News segment, which, of course was about the big
Objection in Kathmandu. Some of the shots of the crowd looked eerily like where
I had just been, and I was a bit afraid that I might see myself roll past the
camera at any minute. Quite a surreal experience. With
days like that one occurring regularly for over two weeks, it was clear that
the King’s days were numbered.
Now finally back in town, I
made an attempt to make the most of whatever chores and sightseeing I could
accomplish. I would be in town for Saturday evening through Monday, and there
were no big Objections planned for those days, only small ones. The daytime
curfews were still in place, however, complete with their shoot-on-sight policy
(which never really was taken very seriously, and generally exempted tourists
in any case,) still in effect. That left only a couple of hours in the morning,
and a few after sunset, when some of the shops and
restaurants were open. Actually, that may have been a good thing for me as it
forced me to nap and rest for most of the next two days which I really did need
at that point. The whole time was rather odd however, as I was one of only two
or three people staying in the rather large hotel, which felt sort of creepy.
I did manage to see the
main attraction of the area, Durbar Square, which was right next to where I was
staying. It has some impressively beautiful temples, palaces, and monuments all
built in the Nepali style of multi-storied brick structures decorated with
elaborate wooden carvings. The wood is
weathered and faded now, but you can still make out the images and the craftsmanship
that went into producing them. Another interesting sight was the Raj Kumari a pre-adolescent girl who is the living
incarnation of a Hindu goddess and who spends her entire childhood cloistered
away in a small building on the Square. One day each year, she is paraded
through the city in a special chariot, which is the only time she goes outside.
She will peek her head out the window for tourists,
however. When she becomes an adult, the goddess moves into a
younger girl who then takes her place. Coincidentally, Raj Kumari was also the name of the elephant that I rode in
Royal Chitwan. Other than that I had just enough time
to get some laundry done and grab a couple nice meals in the evening. That was
facilitated by me sneaking out an hour or so before the curfew was officially
over. On those occasions the soldiers in the streets continued to be rather
polite towards me, often pulling aside their coils of concertina wire so that I
could pass by.
My departure was planned
for Tuesday morning. That was also the day that the opposition had selected for
the largest Objections yet, hoping to get two million people to encircle the
city. That may have been a bit ambitious, but even a smaller Objection could
have slowed my progress. Fortunately,
for all concerned, things changed late Monday night when Gyanendra
made a televised speech where he essentially gave up the fight, and restored
Parliament. In doing so he implicitly acknowledged that the role of the
monarchy would forever be reduced, or even eliminated in Nepal. Upon his
announcement, I could hear cheers and applause from the hotel staff who had
been watching down in the lobby. I had always thought that it would be fun to
say that I was there to witness the events in Philadelphia in July 01776, St.
Petersburg in October 01917, Havana in 01959, Manila
in 01986, or Bucharest on Christmas Day, 01989. I’m not sure that this compares
with some of those in importance, but now I can say that I was in Kathmandu in
April 02006. The next task for the opposition is to draft a new constitution,
which will in all likelihood greatly diminish or even eliminate the roll of the
monarchy in government, which had been one of the main goals of the Maoists all
along. Time will tell, but peace seems closer now than any time in recent
years.
The final bit of Nepal was
just a ride to the border which was a little tougher than I expected. All
started out well, as while the city was celebrating and happily getting back to
work, just beyond transport in the country was still mostly shut down. That
meant that the descent just outside of town which had been a logjam of trucks
on the way up was now clear, smooth, and a beautiful ride down. After that, I
turned south onto a “short cut road” back to the Tarai,
which turned out to be not as short as I had hoped. In addition to being 35 km
longer than the distance shown on my map (darn you, Nelles!)
the road crossed the mountain range that runs south of the city. I knew that
there would be a climb there, but I didn’t know the height of it. With
Kathmandu being at 1,350 m and the base of the climb at about 1,000, I thought
perhaps 500-600 meters at most. Ha! The
narrow, quiet road, which was actually a real pleasure to ride, kept climbing,
mostly up, finally topping out at 2,500 meters, after a total climb of 1,700 m.
The descent was frustratingly slow as the road quality deteriorated quite a
bit, probably becoming impassable in a few places for vehicles. It was there
that I met two more tourists, Robbie and Monica from Switzerland. They had left
home two years ago and had meandered down to South Asia. They were two of the
lucky ones who had made their own way through Tibet by entering from the west.
Good for them. Finally, after a 10.5 hour day that I thought was going to be
easy I arrived in Hetauda, the only major town in
that part of the Tarai. From there to the border
there was only one small range to cross with a pleasantly asymmetric
climb/descent. With that out of the way my visits to the Himalaya were over,
and after waiting out a heavy thunderstorm and a further 50 km, my visits to
Nepal were too. All in all, a very rewarding experience.
With the end of Asia
drawing near, my next section was back in India, but that required some major
re-routing. More on that next time.
Dahnyabaad,
Mike
--
The
Tour of Gondwana
May
02005 - Oct 02007
http://www.terminalia.org/tour