Return to Kathmandu
POKHARA TO GELYING - 79 KM - 1,210 M CLIMBING - 1,129 MASL MAX ELEVATION
Once again my expectations of the day’s ride are out of sync with reality. The easy tar road turns out to be a very scratchy dirt track which gets worse with each bend. Beautiful scenery though, small villages settled among terraced rice fields. Providence ensured that I had enough fuel when earlier this morning I accidently ordered porridge AND a large American breakfast at the hotel dinning room. I ask a few people I pass on the trail if this is the way to Butwal, and most answer no and some tell me I’m crazy. My GPS says otherwise though, so I continue slowly onwards. Finally I meet a well dressed gentleman who appears to be of a more balanced mind. “Is this the way to Butwal?” I ask. “Well its the shortcut really, but if you continue past the school and then through the river and over the next ridgeline, you will eventually meet up with the main road to Butwal”.
He is absolutely right, but it’s a good hour before I reach the river crossing. At the turn-off over the ridge, the road improves marginally, with small sections of tar appearing at odd intervals. The tar sections become more frequent, then entire, and finally blend into the main road at a large village intersection. The first 25km of the day has taken be 4 hours! What a fantastic bit of riding though, some of the very best sections of the trip, a real privilege. This central region of Nepal is a blend of Buddhist and Hindu cultures, probably with a slight bias to the later. Now that I am off the Annapurna trekking circuit I realize just how commercial and sheltered that area is with all its tea rooms, western menus, monitoring stations and rescue points. In actual fact, THIS is the real deal, here I am not a tourist, I am a traveler. I like this a lot more.
I arrive at the bustling bazaar of Geyling late in the afternoon having had a tough but very rewarding days’ ride. The manic horns of buses and trucks blasting away in competition while they edge around piles of colorful dusty merchandise spilling out onto the narrow road.
My hotel room overlooks this scene and is equally as dusty and disorganized, but quite satisfactory with lots of wall plugs for charging. I stroll around the town taking photos and capturing stares from every direction. This is much more like it.
GELYING TO BAHADUR - 117 KM - 771 M CLIMBING - 1,127 MASL MAX ELEVATION
I have a surprisingly good breakfast, omelet on a large round bread roll and tea. Surprising, because there are no menu’s in these towns, you take what they give you, which is usually quite fine. I have a big climb in the morning but its mostly in the shade on narrow winding roads, always a favorite for me.
The subsequent 30 km downhill to the main southern highway is slightly disappointing, nothing like the downhill’s Dylan and I experienced in Bhutan and the condition of the road deteriorates significantly as I get closer to the intersection.
Butwal is a culture shock, it is huge, traffic really out to nail me, no questions asked. I have to kick out at car doors as they attempt to cut across me and end up shouting at tuk-tuk’s and motorbikes. It’s all crazy and I talk myself down, there is no way I can influence what’s happening around me by getting angry. I stop at a nice looking restaurant instead and go inside for something to eat. “Hey! that’s not a parking place” the owner shouts at me pointing to my bike outside his shop window. I go outside, walk my bike to the restaurant next door where I am more kindly received and order lunch.
Its hot and mad and I’m getting crazy, but I still need to do another 40 km, so for the first time of the trip, I haul out my earphones and escape into a series of pre-recorded BBC podcasts. If they want to ride me off the road, I don’t have the energy to care. The road is flat, monotonous and hot, but I put my head down and reel off the miles. In a large town called Bahadur I finally call it a day with my odometer reading 120km, good enough.
The town is spread out along the highway, and I walk around with my camera, eventually settling down with a beer at a small pub overlooking the madness of the highway and the slow progress of the electric tuk-tuk’s humming softly by.
BAHADUR TO HETHUDA - 154 KM - 612 M CLIMBING - 520 MASL MAX ELEVATION
Today I understand, 154km along a relatively straight road in searing heat trying not to die in the traffic. But first, a 400 m steep climb which I complete in reasonable time. The downhill is very fast and crowded with buses and trucks. I tuck in behind a bus driven by a driver with a death wish and follow it down the pass, using him as a shield as he overtakes the slower traffic in spite of the blind corners and apposing traffic. The bus assistant who is watching me through the open side door gets into the spirit of the chase, and directs me as we race down the winding bends,
It is what it is, long, hot, dusty and monotonous, but I am no stranger to this sort of work and the day drifts by in a haze of madness. Its difficult to fully describe the level of noise, dust and danger imposed by the traffic along this road. Outside the towns its less dangerous, more individuality, but within the town and city limits, the concentrations of people and traffic as well as the wide range of speed’s being travelled by the different transportation types, makes for a lethal combination. Heavily laden trucks blasting at speed through a main road filled with hand carts, electric tuk tuks and motorbikes, all doing their best to dodge the hoards of pedestrians and the odd cow. There is physical contact on numerous occasions.
I make it to Hetauda alive, the final 12km a soul sapping affair, but I made it quite fine. The hotel staff piss me off, demanding my ID and payment first, before being able to put down my kit in the room. I have to unpack everything on the counter to reach the needed items. Its not really their fault, I’ll on edge from the madness of the day, hot, grimy and exhausted.
There is a school group booked into the same floor of the hotel as I am, and they run through the corridors screaming and shouting till well into the morning hours. I don’t mind really, this is southern Nepal, like it or leave it, now leave me alone I need to sleep!
HETHUDA TO MARKHU - 49 KM - 1,658 M CLIMBING - 1,915 MASL MAX ELEVATION
Probably, no definitely, the steepest climb I have ever done on a bike. I have done longer and higher, but never steeper and I loved every meter gained. Narrow winding roads covered with forest weaving in and out of small villages hugging the cliff sides, what’s not to like. Well quite a bit actually, and as usual it’s the traffic. In this case, the road is only narrow enough for one vehicle and Bolero’s are racing up and down the pass, hooters blearing a warning around each corner. Due to the gradient and my pack, I have hardly any steering control, the front wheel just barely keeping contact with the road, cliff on one side, Bolero’s on the other. My shoulder is nudged on more than one occasion.
Most of the corners are virtually unrideable, but rather than get off and walk, I rest a few seconds and then power up, front wheel dangling impotently a few inches off the tar, knowing that if I walk it up even once, I will “need” to walk out the entire pass, because at first glance, its all too steep to ride. I finally reach the top of the pass which is marked by a shabby Stupa and a few tattered prayer flags. What a far cry from Bhutan and the high areas of Nepal where every pass is crowned with a magnificent well maintained Stupa and row upon row of colorful prayer flags.
After this pass, things start to get scratchy again, a short downhill and then my GPS pulls me off the main road onto a narrow trail running up towards the wall of a large dam. I’m not so sure, but a few bikes come pass and verify that this is one of the routes leading to KMD. I pass a police check point and they let me through, the trail leading around the dam to a small dusty settlement. I could go on, its only 40km to KMD, but my GPS points to another 1,000m of climbing, and to be honest, I don’t think I have it left in me today. In any case, why am I in such a rush? Its beautiful up here, peaceful, what do I need to do down in KMD anyway?
I discover that there is a small village around 8km away which has a guest house, so I descend rapidly along a fast dirt track to a very hillbilly town, where I receive mostly strange or even slightly hostile looks from the locals. This is very rural, I can’t imagine many tourists get to this town at all. I book into a rather basic guest house, but its all fine and the owner is very helpful and friendly. I walk around the town, and down to the fisheries station on the dam. Its cooler up here in the mountains and I like that.
MARKHU TO KATHMANDU - 36 KM - 733 M CLIMBING - 2,244 MASL MAX ELEVATION
Based on my understanding of the route as well as the testimony of people I have spoken to, todays route will be on tar, around 30km, with a big climb before descending into KMD. I think about this as I glare alternately at my GPS screen indicating a right turn, and the small motorbike track its referring to. Can this be it? all the way to KMD? I turn off and start riding slowly along the narrow trail which winds through scattered pine trees. A motorbike comes towards me and confirms that it’s the way to KMD. My GPS tells me to climb, but the track descends steeply into a valley. Uncertainty. Eventually the track joins a gravel road which takes me through some of the most authentic rural villages I have seen. I start to relax and decide to just go with the flow and follow the GPS. I pass through small settlements where the culture and architecture appear to be largely unaffected by invasive forces of modernity.
The gravel road is narrow and I have to step off the road to allow a Bolero past me. I place my right foot onto a tuft of grass off the side of the road but there is nothing, under the grass and I crash sideways into a deep trench, slamming the side of my head into the stone wall on the opposite wall, my bike crashing down on top of me. I have worn my helmet for the past 15 days of cycling where it helped me out, not one bit, and now on the final day, it has earned its keep. The one thing my helmet cannot protect me from is the stinging nettle bush, and the entire left side of my body is burning and itching so badly I can hardly bare it. The sting will remain with me through the night and into the next morning.
The climb is not all that bad, although its still on loose gravel making the going tough. From the top of the pass, the view down onto the KMD valley is breathtaking, there is a cable car running away off the right of me. I spend some time at the top looking down on the madness of the city far below, the mountains in the distance covered by a persistent haze.
The final downhill is steep in the extreme, but its great riding, loose and technical. I descend carefully, mindful that I am on the final few hours of the trip and so need to be extra careful of complacency or over confidence. I meet up with the main road into KMD a mere 7 km from my guest house, so incredibly grateful to have been able to ride almost all the way in on gravel, through rural settlements and interacting with the local peoples, a fitting end to such an amazing journey.
I don’t want to talk much about those last 7 km’s. I turn into my hotel that I had left only 20 days ago and park my bike outside the reception office. As with all solo journeys of this nature, the anti-climax of the finish is breathtaking. Its 12:00, I get lunch and start thinking about what I want to eat tonight.
