Stairway to Heaven……. 17th May 2006

Stairway to Heaven……. 17th May 2006

I didn’t set my alarm last night, as I wanted to hang around Sunuali until the banks opened, so I ended up watching Star Movies at 07:00. There was a film / documentary on about the 80’s TV show, Different Strokes. I remember watching that when I was a kid (wot you talkin’ about Aidan?) so I started to watch it. I missed the beginning of it but it seemed to be a film about the stars of the show and the effect it had on their careers. It also had the original actors come in every now and then to talk about the effects it had on their lives, it was really interesting. Arnold ended up working as a security guard, Willis ended up in prison on attempted murder and various other charges, Kimberley died of a drugs overdose.

There are no ATM’s in Nepal, which accept Cirrus cards, so I had to make a cash advance on my Visa card and I got to the bank in Sunuali at 09:10, but they didn’t open until 10:00. I thought about hanging around there as I really needed to have so Nepalese Rupees just in case I needed petrol etc, I had a look at the map and the next town was 30kms away so I thought that by the time I rode there it would be 10:00. I got there at 09:45 just as the bank was opening its doors, and the staff couldn’t have been friendlier, the whole process took just over 20 minutes (they had to wait of the days exchange rate to come through). It was at this point that I decided not to go to Kathmandu. I am sick of the chaos attached to big cities (thank you India) and I need to chill out after five days in Varanasi, so I decided to head to Pokhara, which was 165kms from Sunuali.

Pokhara is a touristy town on the banks of a lake in the foothills of the Himalaya and beside the Annapurnas mountains. I liked the fact that it was only 165km’s from where I was, as I didn’t fancy another ten-hour bike ride like yesterday, no matter how nice the scenery. After Butawal (where I went to the bank) the road to the mountains started, well that is to say the pot holed dirt track with spectacular gorges and valleys started. Have you ever felt complete joy in your heart? It hasn’t happened to me for a while, but it really hit me about five minutes after Butawal. I couldn’t believe the amazing scenery, the deep blue sky with white (and, dare I say ‘fluffy’) clouds, fields of green and people who actually smiled and waved at me. I felt like I had grown a couple of feet and I couldn’t stop smiling and singing to myself (and anyone one who happened to get in earshot!).

I don’t think I mentioned it before, but the Indians hardly smiled or waved at me as I rode along, which was hard to get used to after riding in Cambodia, Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. Hell, even in England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland, Greece, France, Spain, Germany and anywhere I else I’ve ridden people have waved and smiled, but India rarely. In fact I reckon that more people greeted me today than in the whole three months I spent in India. It took a bit of getting used to, why are these people smiling and waving? Why are they shouting ‘hello’? Why are bus drivers waving me past when I haven’t blasted my horn ten times? Why when I stop am I not asked the usual boring questions? Why are the people so friendly? Why are the women smiling and showing their shoulders?

As I mentioned above, I have been fortunate to have ridden motorbikes on some amazing roads especially in Spain (Granada), Ireland (Kerry) and Crete (near Malia), but none of them can hold a torch to the road that I was riding on today. I’m sitting here grinning like a Cheshire cat just thinking about it. I wish I could have stopped and typed this as I was going along, as my little brain was totally mesmerised by the beauty of it all.

The roads were generally good, there were dodgy bits now and then, which looked as though they had been washed away by monsoon rains / floods, as the mountain always looked pretty scarred by rainwater at these points. I couldn’t even begin to guess the amount of times I stopped along the road to take photos and to just sit in the silence. SILENCE. I forgot what that sounded like after spending the last three months in India. Have you ever truly felt silence? It’s eerie after all this time in S.E Asia and India. I even switched my motorbike off going down a couple of the mountains and apart from the sound of the tires on the road; all I could here was the wind in my ears and birdsong. From mountain peaks to glacial valleys I was grinning ear to ear. The other drivers helped make the experience even more enjoyable, they were actually courteous, and this made the ride so much more pleasant. Not only did car drivers pull over to let me pass (something that happens in the West of Ireland), but they also didn’t try to run me into a ditch when we were meeting face to face.

God was a biker. I have no doubt about that. This road generally had great visibility and I could often see ‘through’ three or four corners, which meant that I could use the whole width of the road as I was riding. I was going from a rainwater drain (on the left) to a big drop on the right (anything from 20 metres to 300 metres) at between 60kph and 80kph, and I had the road to myself. Perfect biking roads, although I had to concentrate really hard as I didn’t fancy peeling myself off the mountainside or valley floor. The best thing about the whole ride is that I know that this is only the ‘appetiser’; I’ve got the Himalayas to come yet!

I was about fifty kilometres from Pokhara when the clutch on the bike started to play up again. I felt the bar lever loosen so I started shifting up the gears by the ‘clutch less’ method and continued to motor on. This was good until I got about 20km’s from Pokhara where I was up and down hills all the time so had to change gear more frequently, and the most horrible sounds were coming from the gearbox. I managed to ‘nurse’ the bike until I got to the edge of town and I found a motorcycle mechanic. As I pulled in the, bike was screaming for mercy and stalled. The guy had a look at it for me, but didn’t know anything about Enfield’s, he did a quick adjusmentt and when I tested it the bike was worse than ever. He adjusted it back to ‘normal’ and told me to visit the Enfield showroom in town and even drew me a map. He wouldn’t accept payment. I limped into town, dreading having to stop or slow down as I’d have to crunch through the gears, and I stopped at a busy looking bike mechanics (I didn’t bother trying to get as far as the Enfield guy, as he was the other side of town). The chap there gave it the once over, and looked as though he knew what he was doing (he found the clutch cover for a start) and he adjusted it, he then asked me for an outrageous (!) ten Nepal Rupees (about 0.06pence GBP), he then jumped on his bike and rode off. I hadn’t tested my bike at this stage, but he was gone (with my six pence in his pocket!), I tried the bike and it was working fine, the boy done good! I don’t know how long it’ll last for, but I had a good look at what he did and it seemed straightforward enough…

I made my way to the lakeside, which is the backpackers area and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A supermarket. An f’n supermarket. Pubs. CD shops. Bookshops. Restaurants. Civilisation! I found a really nice guesthouse for 200 NR (Nepal Rupees), which is about £1.70 GBP, result. I then went for a quick walk to the supermarket to see what they had (I can’t believe that I got all excited by a supermarket). Wow, it was like Aladdin’s Cave and I bought deodorant, olives, cream crackers, tissues, Swiss cheese and pork luncheon meat (I hate the stuff and can’t remember when I last ate it, but it was there!!). I even found a pub that is showing the Arsenal v Barcelona Champions League Final tonight, at 23.45. Rock on! I also found numerous shops selling trekking gear, including boots (which I need for the bike) and even a Paragliding place. I haven’t paraglided since I dislocated my shoulder in a motorbike accident about four years ago, and my licence has expired, but I’m really tempted to do a nine day course here – I will fly around three of the four highest mountains in the world, not Everest though 

I had dinner (first meal of the day) in a bar / restaurant overlooking the lake and I had the most gorgeous lasagne (with salad and garlic bread) that I’ve had in years and it was washed down with two bottles of Everest beer. The beer here is lovely, it’s brewed to a European taste (Dutch / German) and is so much better than the battery acid they sell in India. The whole meal came to £3 GBP. Did I mention how friendly the people are? I didn’t get hassled much walking down the road either, none of the name/where from/salary/married questions. Bliss on a stick. I love this county to bits and I’m only here a day, roll on the next however long!

I haven’t even mentioned how clean the country is. Why is it so much cleaner than India? They are neighbours and both are relatively poor (don’t believe the bullshit about India being the up and coming economy – they’ve too much sh1t to sort out before that happens). So how come Nepal is so much cleaner? Answers please on a postcard, first correct answer wins a bag of Laks Crisps.

Question for Chrissie: Why didn’t you tell me Nepal was this beautiful?

And I nearly forgot to mention the roadblock that I had to ‘run’. I was only out of the guesthouse three or four minutes out of Sunuali and I there was a big traffic jam in front of me, as well as a lorry jam heading towards the Indian border. I managed to weave myself to the front of the jam and found the road blocked by a couple of 4wd’s and cars. I pulled over and tried to assess the situation, should I stay or should I go? (as the Clash said) I decided to ‘risk it for a biscuit’ and go for it; the only way around was up a curb, over a bit of rough land, back over the curb and on the away. I got over the first curb all right, but as I was going over the rough ground I noticed that there was barbed wire on the ground blocking my progress. I looked around and found a couple of bricks which I placed over the barbed wired and rode over it, hoping the bricks wouldn’t move and leave me with a puncture. I’m glad to say that I negotiated the hazards safely and was soon on my way, I really hoped that this wasn’t going to be a regular occurrence. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t sh1tting myself as I approached the roadblock, the ceasefire is only back in operation two weeks (and I’m probably part of the first batch of tourists to return) and it’s funny how quick your bravado leaves you when faced with such a situation.