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 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. 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 were 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