Biking the World one crank at a time
I had planned a route via a reservoir and Chitwan, a national park in Nepal. The route looked as if it would be asphalt with a few nasty climbs. As soon as I left the main road I discovered the asphalt vanished and the climb was ridiculously steep! Once again my planning never ceases to amaze me.
My lungs were struggling. Dust, smog and lungs still not fully healed. I was happy at the end of the day setting up a camp on the side of the reservoir.
The journey from Pokhara to Kathmandu was a very bumpy bus ride. 12 hours of bumpy. But at least it was a nicer seat. My bum still hurts! The road had been ripped up to make ready for a new road. But much like most of Central Asia, they tended to do it the Chinese way. Rip up the road from beginning to end and then start the work. Leaving everyone with no real road for years!
Knowing I needed to rest I selected a hostel further out but still near one of the temples. The hostel turned out to be VERY quiet, I was the only person in my room. Whilst this can be a blessing, it is nice to talk to people occasionally.
It should go without saying that trying to hike over a 5,500m pass with a chest cough is a stupid idea. Nevertheless, I still did it. It should also be said that I am two weeks later and still dealing with said cough.
Setting off with Nabil and Seb we first had to endure 6 hour bus journey to the start of the circuit in Besisahar. As is common in these parts and similar to Central Asia the objective is to cram as much cargo and as many people as you can in the bus. Think of the path between the seats laden with live chickens in a bag, boxes of parts and people on stools. I have a feeling if they could’ve put people on the roof they would’ve done.
Despite my experience of Indian bureaucracy, I can still be amazed by it. Moritz and I enter the immigration office at the border and get invited to sit in a rather plush room. None of these grey, dreary passport control buildings you get everywhere. We were then taken individually into another room where they scanned the passport and took our photo. The normal process. After returning to the original room he would then fill in all the details in a book. I am sure that book is never looked at.
Thinking this process was over, Moritz and I headed towards the gate, which the military controlled. There we were given some seats to sit on in the booth where they once again wrote down all the details from our passport in a book. We could then leave India!
