Nepal ride
Specially for Urumtumtour - http://urumtumtour.com/en/main-en/
We were four on the road - me, Danil - co-founder of Urumtumtour, his wife - Sasha, and a small dog - Zhuzha. The asphalt glittering under the rays of Nepali Sun, twisting into the infinite serpentine hypnotized me as well as the roar of motorcycle engine.
“Mystical Nepal, eh, pretty much a commonplace”, I thought a week before when I was just coming. I was searching neither peace nor enlightenment or comfort. I was searching for the smell of gasoline, sound of the wind in my years and feeling of freedom. I wanted to prove myself that I can ride the motorcycle in a country, where the traffic laws are a mere recommendation after the beginner ten-hour courses.
Of course, I would never even thought about trying it, but one day I stumbled upon the fascinating photos of people riding the bikes with the peaks of Annapurna towering sky-high in the background. Plus, I knew Danil long ago - trustworthy guy. I remember the fun of hanging out with him and his girlfriend. So, after all, it was me first writing him, asking him to make a travel with me.
Indeed, I couldn’t go there without a preparation. I haven’t ever ridden the bike and I had no slightest idea, what Nepal looks like: earthquake, Shambala, corruption, Buddhism, fuel crisis, Himalaya Mountains - a row of controversial associations characterized it. How can it be, that since long ago people were fleeing there for seeking the spiritual asylum from the modern world in the overpopulated cities or distant villages at the shoulders of giant mountains?
It took me a month to learn the basics of riding a motorbike and there I was, landing at Kathmandu airport. My companions were waiting for me, taking me immediately into the vortex of city life. At some point I was looking behind the window of small rusty electrobus with the “Eco-friendly” sign on it, looking at some ruined building.
-Earthquake? - I asked
-No, it was like this before it, Danil answered smiling, - some historical building are damaged, even destroyed, but the country recovers very quickly
It was the first thing I realized - people are living there as there was no any earthquake: it did not affect much the level of life of Nepali people. There’s not much of a signs of a catastrophe. Pokhara, for example, seems almost intact with its entire tourist infrastructure passing through the dead season, waiting for the people to come.
We had the bikes, but the problem with the fuel was yet to be solved. Due to the blockade, the gas stations were empty. One could see the queues surrounding the places, where it could be bought. It was another strange thing - the vivid traffic didn’t show any signs of fuel shortage. I had an impression that numerous vehicles are fed by Holy Spirit. Mysterious Nepal, indeed.
We bargained for the fuel furiously - long negotiations in small hidden restaurants with fuel smugglers resulted in seriously reduced price for precious liters of gasoline. And it was anything but ordinary - drinking masala tea and speaking small talks with gang members. Sometimes I felt like getting inside of “Mad Max” movie as we were moving from one place to another through the labyrinth of narrow Kathmandu streets - dystopian cyber-dieselpunk environment, created by the lanterns of the restaurants, neon lightings of the numerous bars, entangled wires over our heads, bicycles, bikes and rickshaws moving through crowds staring at cheap Chinese gadgets and Hindu gods statues at shop windows.
We moved out in the morning, trying to get out of city sprawl as soon as possible. Our plan was to get to the Pokhara and then ride around a bit, getting back to Kathmandu right at Diwali’s eve. Quite enough for four days trip. I took Bajaj Avenger cruiser bike, nice replica of Kawasaki Eliminator, while Danil and Sasha were riding sporty Bajaj Pulsar. Usually, an Urumtumtour use endure-class motorbike for the tours, but this was an easy one, as we didn’t plan to get into the wilderness of Nepal outback: even if I wanted to I just wasn’t skilled enough. I’m still jealous to the lucky people who will be able to do it, getting high to the Himalayan peaks. In fact our bikes were just perfect for riding roads around the country in relaxed and easy way. Well, after you get used to the traffic…
The traffic seems impossible noisy chaos for you in the beginning - the traffic lights on crossroads are not functioning, old massive buses with passengers on the rooftops and trucks with “Road King” letterings on front window disgorge the clouds of black smoke. Their drivers spitting with red saliva press on the horns stunning you. Quite stressful for newbie biker.
After the first shock I suddenly realized, that traffic moves without collisions and jams. Somehow, horns were able to replace the traffic rules, acting as a strange language allowing the smooth flow of innumerous vehicles of all kinds - from wagon with hay to rusty cargo juggernauts. Your horn - is the most important detail in your vehicle in Nepal.
But it’s not just about making the noise; it seems that the drivers have some kind of telepathic connection between them. There is a complex system in that chaos of traffic. And after all you somehow catch it up. Nepal is mysterious indeed: some mystical things are happening to you naturally. You realize, that the things like “carma”, “materiality of thoughts” is not something transcendent here, even for sceptics and materialists like me.
Danil and Sasha told me frequently that I have a good karma, and after all we were through on the road, I had to agree with him, that it can really matter, even if it works only in Nepal.
We were riding for hours between the mountains, through the small villages, crossing the bridges over the raging rivers and then stopping to watch. Smoke a cigarette silently, watching the blue hue of Himalayas on the horizon, listening to a water roaring down below the serpentine road, smelling the wild flowers growing on the hills. We were wandering the streets of nearby villages and then climbing up the steps to get inside the ancient temples. Incense aromas, breathtaking views and we, the nomads from the very distant west, were trying to understand and catch up insatiably everything in our sight.
And then we rode again. Danil staring on the road, leading the way both well in city traffic and through the curves of road through the rainforest, elegant and dangerous Sasha grinning from the backseat with the cigarette in her mouth and the backpack on her chest with the pug in it. And I, embracing Zen, while increasing the engine torque, making the motorcycle roar through the jungle.
It was the great feeling of being united by the road. This one is quite rare as you take a tour - unity with people you’re going to trip with. Usually you have a strong feeling of being a customer, and this literally kills everything. You feel safe, you know that’s everything’s just a tour - adventure made for you and the service provider already knows what happens next. In such situation any adventure is nothing more but a rollercoaster, made-up and artificial.
“Not with those guys”, I thought. It was not my adventure, but ours. And we made it really badass. Nothing was certain and everything was up to us. Isn’t it freedom, that many of us searching for relentlessly? Yes, it was. And I was so grateful for it. Whether we wanted to sit and stare at Pokhara lake or to descend to the bat caves or get to the peak and watch the landscape under the rays of setting sun - we wanted it together. If they were happy - so was I. They were telling me amazing stories and showed me more than I could ever see in such a short time there. We were chatting, laughing, smoking and relaxing, high on gasoline and pure air. We enjoyed being crazy, young and together on this road.
We got back to Kathmandu in the evening of Diwali, when the city, usually dark at night is so full of lights. In front of every house there was a colorful mandala with the candle. The children were playing some kind of “trick-or-treat” game, asking for candies with the dogs decorated by flowers running by. The temple squares were full of people, celebrating. I felt sad, though, as we got back home. I was watching the sea of lights underneath and I couldn’t realize that the wild race through Nepal is finished. We ate our last barbecue on the rooftop and then it was over.
Now, after several months, it feels almost unreal. I sit in the office armchair and everything that happened to me is like a road-trip movie I watched. But I know, the guys - Danil, Sasha are still waiting and one day I will get back and we will be together again on the road, looking for strange.
We were four on the road - me, Danil - co-founder of Urumtumtour, his wife - Sasha, and a small dog - Zhuzha. The asphalt glittering under the rays of Nepali Sun, twisting into the infinite serpentine hypnotized me as well as the roar of motorcycle engine.
“Mystical Nepal, eh, pretty much a commonplace”, I thought a week before when I was just coming. I was searching neither peace nor enlightenment or comfort. I was searching for the smell of gasoline, sound of the wind in my years and feeling of freedom. I wanted to prove myself that I can ride the motorcycle in a country, where the traffic laws are a mere recommendation after the beginner ten-hour courses.
Of course, I would never even thought about trying it, but one day I stumbled upon the fascinating photos of people riding the bikes with the peaks of Annapurna towering sky-high in the background. Plus, I knew Danil long ago - trustworthy guy. I remember the fun of hanging out with him and his girlfriend. So, after all, it was me first writing him, asking him to make a travel with me.
Indeed, I couldn’t go there without a preparation. I haven’t ever ridden the bike and I had no slightest idea, what Nepal looks like: earthquake, Shambala, corruption, Buddhism, fuel crisis, Himalaya Mountains - a row of controversial associations characterized it. How can it be, that since long ago people were fleeing there for seeking the spiritual asylum from the modern world in the overpopulated cities or distant villages at the shoulders of giant mountains?
It took me a month to learn the basics of riding a motorbike and there I was, landing at Kathmandu airport. My companions were waiting for me, taking me immediately into the vortex of city life. At some point I was looking behind the window of small rusty electrobus with the “Eco-friendly” sign on it, looking at some ruined building.
-Earthquake? - I asked
-No, it was like this before it, Danil answered smiling, - some historical building are damaged, even destroyed, but the country recovers very quickly
It was the first thing I realized - people are living there as there was no any earthquake: it did not affect much the level of life of Nepali people. There’s not much of a signs of a catastrophe. Pokhara, for example, seems almost intact with its entire tourist infrastructure passing through the dead season, waiting for the people to come.
We had the bikes, but the problem with the fuel was yet to be solved. Due to the blockade, the gas stations were empty. One could see the queues surrounding the places, where it could be bought. It was another strange thing - the vivid traffic didn’t show any signs of fuel shortage. I had an impression that numerous vehicles are fed by Holy Spirit. Mysterious Nepal, indeed.
We bargained for the fuel furiously - long negotiations in small hidden restaurants with fuel smugglers resulted in seriously reduced price for precious liters of gasoline. And it was anything but ordinary - drinking masala tea and speaking small talks with gang members. Sometimes I felt like getting inside of “Mad Max” movie as we were moving from one place to another through the labyrinth of narrow Kathmandu streets - dystopian cyber-dieselpunk environment, created by the lanterns of the restaurants, neon lightings of the numerous bars, entangled wires over our heads, bicycles, bikes and rickshaws moving through crowds staring at cheap Chinese gadgets and Hindu gods statues at shop windows.
We moved out in the morning, trying to get out of city sprawl as soon as possible. Our plan was to get to the Pokhara and then ride around a bit, getting back to Kathmandu right at Diwali’s eve. Quite enough for four days trip. I took Bajaj Avenger cruiser bike, nice replica of Kawasaki Eliminator, while Danil and Sasha were riding sporty Bajaj Pulsar. Usually, an Urumtumtour use endure-class motorbike for the tours, but this was an easy one, as we didn’t plan to get into the wilderness of Nepal outback: even if I wanted to I just wasn’t skilled enough. I’m still jealous to the lucky people who will be able to do it, getting high to the Himalayan peaks. In fact our bikes were just perfect for riding roads around the country in relaxed and easy way. Well, after you get used to the traffic…
The traffic seems impossible noisy chaos for you in the beginning - the traffic lights on crossroads are not functioning, old massive buses with passengers on the rooftops and trucks with “Road King” letterings on front window disgorge the clouds of black smoke. Their drivers spitting with red saliva press on the horns stunning you. Quite stressful for newbie biker.
After the first shock I suddenly realized, that traffic moves without collisions and jams. Somehow, horns were able to replace the traffic rules, acting as a strange language allowing the smooth flow of innumerous vehicles of all kinds - from wagon with hay to rusty cargo juggernauts. Your horn - is the most important detail in your vehicle in Nepal.
But it’s not just about making the noise; it seems that the drivers have some kind of telepathic connection between them. There is a complex system in that chaos of traffic. And after all you somehow catch it up. Nepal is mysterious indeed: some mystical things are happening to you naturally. You realize, that the things like “carma”, “materiality of thoughts” is not something transcendent here, even for sceptics and materialists like me.
Danil and Sasha told me frequently that I have a good karma, and after all we were through on the road, I had to agree with him, that it can really matter, even if it works only in Nepal.
We were riding for hours between the mountains, through the small villages, crossing the bridges over the raging rivers and then stopping to watch. Smoke a cigarette silently, watching the blue hue of Himalayas on the horizon, listening to a water roaring down below the serpentine road, smelling the wild flowers growing on the hills. We were wandering the streets of nearby villages and then climbing up the steps to get inside the ancient temples. Incense aromas, breathtaking views and we, the nomads from the very distant west, were trying to understand and catch up insatiably everything in our sight.
And then we rode again. Danil staring on the road, leading the way both well in city traffic and through the curves of road through the rainforest, elegant and dangerous Sasha grinning from the backseat with the cigarette in her mouth and the backpack on her chest with the pug in it. And I, embracing Zen, while increasing the engine torque, making the motorcycle roar through the jungle.
It was the great feeling of being united by the road. This one is quite rare as you take a tour - unity with people you’re going to trip with. Usually you have a strong feeling of being a customer, and this literally kills everything. You feel safe, you know that’s everything’s just a tour - adventure made for you and the service provider already knows what happens next. In such situation any adventure is nothing more but a rollercoaster, made-up and artificial.
“Not with those guys”, I thought. It was not my adventure, but ours. And we made it really badass. Nothing was certain and everything was up to us. Isn’t it freedom, that many of us searching for relentlessly? Yes, it was. And I was so grateful for it. Whether we wanted to sit and stare at Pokhara lake or to descend to the bat caves or get to the peak and watch the landscape under the rays of setting sun - we wanted it together. If they were happy - so was I. They were telling me amazing stories and showed me more than I could ever see in such a short time there. We were chatting, laughing, smoking and relaxing, high on gasoline and pure air. We enjoyed being crazy, young and together on this road.
We got back to Kathmandu in the evening of Diwali, when the city, usually dark at night is so full of lights. In front of every house there was a colorful mandala with the candle. The children were playing some kind of “trick-or-treat” game, asking for candies with the dogs decorated by flowers running by. The temple squares were full of people, celebrating. I felt sad, though, as we got back home. I was watching the sea of lights underneath and I couldn’t realize that the wild race through Nepal is finished. We ate our last barbecue on the rooftop and then it was over.
Now, after several months, it feels almost unreal. I sit in the office armchair and everything that happened to me is like a road-trip movie I watched. But I know, the guys - Danil, Sasha are still waiting and one day I will get back and we will be together again on the road, looking for strange.