Hilltop tears, Everest and a long freewheel to Kathmandu!

It really was with a mix of emotions that we crossed the boarder into Nepal. "Incredicle India" had truely lived up to its name. We'd found the last week in Uttar Pradesh pretty hard going. Looking back, this was probably a combination of the dense and chilly gangetic fog; the rising intensity of the attention we were attracting from locals, including the risks people we taking to speak to us on the road; the fact that hotels were turning us away due to the bureaucracy involved in lodging foreigners and a slightly creepy last night in India. Although nothing actually happened, we endured a very sleepless night after an attempted break-in into our room. Ed maintained a manly vigil before we got the hell out of there as soon as we could escape. Nepal's pull seemed a little stronger as we raced for the boarder.

Cycling two abreast from India into Nepal was a pretty special feeling. We couldn't believe that we'd actually made it! We'd spent that last three months telling people that we were cycling to Nepal, and there we were, Nepali Visa pasted in our passports, trundling off to Lumbini, the birth place of Buddha!

We had wondered how things might seem different in Nepal and there was one thing that struck us immediately... regaining our personal space! We'd got so used to the fact that the minute we stopped at least 20 people, usually men, would immediately invade that cherished space we Brits like to call our own. We had actually got used to the closeness (I mean really close... although wondering fingers fiddling with the break levers was always a step too far!) so as I stood outside the bank waiting for Ed to collect our Western Union bank transfer (thanks so much again Roger, honorary Expedition Manager!) I started to get a little lonely as not a single soul approached me or even gave me a second glance!

Money stashed away, most notes as crumpled, faded, selotaped together and scribbled on as an old monopoly set, we headed off to Lumbini and our first taste of Nepali roads. The Lumbini Village Lodge welcomed two sleep deprived, weary cyclists with a warm shower, soft bed, fluffy pillows and a very pink themed room. It was heaven and our harrowing last night in India seemed a long way away (we'll tell you the full story another time!).

Lumbini had changed a lot since David and I last visited over seven years ago. Lumbini itself has been pretty much proven to be the birth place of Bhudda and therefore a big deal for Buddhists. An ancient temple, beautiful sacred peepal tree and more prayer flags than you ever thought existed mark the exact spot of his birth. In 1978, a Japanese architect designed a three mile squared park in which all Bhuddist nations and organisations were invited to build monasteries, temples, stupas and gardens in reverence to this holy place. Even seven years ago, it was hard to imagine the architect's concept. The place was deserted, with only a handful of monks and vast empty building sites, scrub lands and dirt tracks with no obvious symmetry or connection. Although its probably years from being finished, you can now see the original vision.

Standing on the World Peace Pagoda, a vast 40m high, brilliant white domed stupa surrounded by gardens on one side and a crane sanctuary on the other, looking down a one kilometre long, perfectly straight, tree lined, man made canal to the eternal flame and Bhudda's birth place beyond, you began to understand the scale of the place. It now also hummed with thousands of pilgrims, monks, tourists and any other souls that had been drawn in. Many of the temples and monasteries are yet to be finished but the amazingly detailed painting, gold leaf work, stonemasonry, lovingly tended gardens and the shear work that is on going seems on a par with some of the beautiful religious sites of old.

Every evening we were drawn back to the peepal tree where monks would gather and chant meditatively together under a setting Sun. We once again soaked up the atmosphere of a very special place. 

We opted for a small twisty, dusty route through the Terai (Nepal's Southern lowlands). The road took us through little rustic villages, which seemed so peaceful with people pottering about their daily business. The houses, the people and the farmland seemed very different from the Indian equivalent just a few kilometers away. Thatched mud and wooden dwellings nestled between more modern houses which had their own unique charm. With facades tiled in vibrantly contrasting colours (don't let anyone tell you that lime green, baby pink and psychedelic yellow don't look great together!) and balconies supported by sparkling spiralling columns they, certainly did brighten up the place. 

After taking a right out of a forest trail that felt more like single track mountain biking, we unfortunately joined the main East-West highway through Nepal. We weren't sure what to expect from Nepali driving but we can categorically state that it is just as bad as in India. We tucked in together and pushed on to Butwal. On the way we got our first taste of Nepal's foothills but the snow capped peaks of the Himalaya still eluded us. 

We didn't expect much from Butwal, as we knew it was a dusty through town linking the plains to the mountains, but when we arrived, daal bhat (rice and daal!) and a great coffee in our tummies, we happily settled into a cheap and cheerful hotel, pleased to get our first full day of cycling in Nepal under our belts. The unexpected charm of Butwal came alive as the sun went down. We headed to find an evening snack and stumbled across a pavement scene that wouldn't look out of place in Barcelona. Hundreds of people, women and men, young and old, sat together on plastic stools, laughing, smoking and chatting in the evening twilight. A row of cart wheeled stalls supplying a constant stream of steaming mo-mos (Tibetan dumpling) and the most amazing frothy coffee you've ever tasted... think of the taste of a sweet coffee cake topped with a hot milky souffle and chocolate sprinkles and you might be somewhere close! You can say what you like about Butwal but we'd be back there in an jiffy to sit and watch the world go by on that pavement.

Dumkibas was our next port of call but the first tiny Nepalese mountain pass stood in our way. There is really no reason you would ever think of stopping in Dumkibas but after reading a poetic Google review of a hotel claiming unparalled views of rice paddies and glacial rivers for less that £4 a night we couldn't resist a stop there. We successfully summitted the pass (570m!!) and celebrated with tea and doughnuts at the top, happy that our climbing legs seemed ready for the slightly tougher challenges to come. A short freewheel down the other side led us to Dumkibas. In our slowly improving broken Nepali we found a wizened 'hotelier' who welcomed us into his humble home. People spend thousands trying to recreate the simplicity and charm of the room we stayed in. A solid, carved creaky bed lay on polished concrete floors, next to wrought iron windows and wooden shutters. On the opposite side of the highway we had our lunch gazing over a bright scene of yellow rapeseed pastures, the famed rice paddies and hazy hills. We had ample opportunity to practice our hotchpotch of Nepali as we sat with our hosts that evening. They found it hilarious we weren't married and were desperate to know when were going to 'make babies'...which took some translation!

The dusty, busy Mahendra East-West Highway was our route to Sauraha and the Chitwan National Park. Thankfully, we turned off onto a quiet smooth road heading towards dense jungle just as the Highway finally distegrated in front of our eyes into a vast dust ball. Our trusty Lonely Planet guided us to Gaida (Rhino) Lodge and it was the perfect place for Christmas. Budget well and truely dismissed, we treated ourselves to an amazing room with a balcony amongst the jungle canopy. The lodge was owned by a famous Nepalese Ornathologist and the wild gardens were a perfect environment for local bird life and twitchers alike! We arrived hoping to swap the normal Christmas festivities for a bit of wildlife spotting. Chitwan, as David and I know all too well, is famous for its wild rhinos and tigers. We planned a Chistmas Day walking safari with a Boxing Day elephant ride to follow. But before all of that we had some serious last minute Christmas shopping to do! 

We paddled down the East Rapti river along the edge of the National Park in a dug out canoe having already spotted crocodiles lazing in the warm afternoon sun. We floated slowly down the tranquil river, water the colour of silver, watching the river bank for any signs of movement as our guides pointed out the abundant bird life, wishing we had Ali with us when we spotted a River Lapwing! 

As the shadows lengthened we jumped out of the canoe and tentatively started our jungle walk. Walking inside the jungle felt so different from the serene river with the pungent earthy smells and sounds. Every falling leaf and crunched twig had you turning and staring into the undergrowth. We had two guides with us who took up the front and the rear. We joked about what they would actually do if we saw a tiger or a stampeding rhino as all they had with them was a big stick! We'd only been walking for minutes when, in a secluded sunny, swampy pool near the rivers edge we saw our first rhino happily munching and wallowing away. 

He couldn't have been less bothered by our presence only 20m away and there we were on foot. Havig spotted the one animal we'd desperately hoped to see we then settled into the rest of the walk. Our guides were fantastic and pointed out the different species of deer, wild boar, monkeys, birds, sloth bear holes and trees covered in tiger piss! We even found the marks of two mating rhinos!

Being in the jungle, where wild hungry tigers roam freely, certainly added some suspense to a Christmas walk! Walking through elephant grass twice your height, intense smells of plant and animal life mingling together, every sound appearing to be a stampeding wild elephant (Lonely Planets advice... run for your life!), monkeys swinging and crashing through the trees over head, you couldn't help feeling pretty vulnerable and far removed from your normal habitat. We could sense our guides excitement when they saw freshly trampled grass and tracks indicating two amorous rhinos. Apparently they can be at it for hours! We cautiously advanced through the elephant grass, our guide stopping suddenly and unexpectedly to stare into the over head thicket. It seemed we'd lost the trail but even with our broken Nepali we could sense that they thought the Rhinos could be close. The grass seemed to close in on us and we used our arms to shield our faces as we pushed through. Metres to our left we heard a huge crashing noise and stood stunned for a second. Through the grass, not more than a metre from Kat's nose, a frisky male rhino appeared face on. Neither of us have properly experienced the sensation of actually running for your life but when our guide shouted "RUN" we fled. Apparently interrupting two rhinos mid nookie is a bad idea! At this point the guidebook advises "running in zig-zag lines due to a rhinos poor vision or if all else fails, hiding behind a big tree!" It appears we all forgot that sage advice and stumbled on, half tripping, hearts pounding until we could no longer hear sounds of pursuit.

Once our guide was sure we were safe, we doubled back and watched the unbelievably impressive form of a male rhino amble, apparently unconcerned, into a clearing in front of us. Being so close, we could see his thick hide which looked like steel armour and his enormous head which felt prehistoric. His lady friend had obviosuly left by a different route! As we walked out of the jungle together, very relived and amazed by what we'd seen, we each retold our own version of events. The guides seemed as excited as us and it took some time for the heart rate to settle!

Relived after Eskimo nose attempt with rhino!

Our elephant safari the next day was a little more sedate but it was wonderful nonetheless to ride on the back of a beautiful elephant in the evening sunshine watching the wild world go by around us. We're not sure we'll have a Christmas like it again. Next years post Christmas dinner walk has got a lot to live up to.

It was becoming very easy to sit on our balcony, beer in hand watching the sun set over the jungle (two beers being the price of a nights accommodation!) but Kathmandu was calling and we had a serious hill to climb before we got there. We left Sauraha by a by a bumpy back route following the serene Rapti river along the edge of the park. 

Hetauda was our final stop before we attempted the ascent to Daman, where we had been told we would get the best panoramic view of the Himalayas there is, boasting eight of the world's tallest mountains including Mt. Everest. To win this prize we had 2500m of vertical ascent over 56 gruelling  kilometers. We loaded our bags with nuts, biscuits, peanut chikky and two emergency snickers and headed off into the breaking dawn. Our maps told a story of innumerable  switchbacks and hairpins but the gradient was unrelenting at times. 

Tuneful beeps of encouragement and waving lorry drivers kept us going but sometimes only just! The morning sunshine was being chased up the valley by ominous, lurking clouds but we just managed to stay ahead. It was getting pretty chilly too. Huffing and puffing, we reached the 2000m mark but the legs were getting a bit wobbly after 5 hours of continuous climbing so the emergency Snickers were deployed! 

Pushing on, we were met by a group of tiny school children on their ridiculous walk home. Some looked less than 4 years old and no taller than your knees but everyday they walk over a 2500m mountain to get to school. With sneaky shortcuts they kept up with us, running and shouting along the way, encouraging us up. As we poked out through a cloud we saw prayer flags fluttering between trees with blue sky above. A little village sat at the pass with warm tea and Nepali doughnuts at the ready. We were well and truly broken and Kat was close to tears!

A little tired!

After sweet tea, a sit in the sun and the obligatory summit selfie we began our 2km descent to Daman. 

As we rounded a corner we stopped suddenly, peaking through a break in the pine trees we saw our first proper glimpse of the famed panoramic view. Snow capped mountains rose into the sky and the thought that we'd cycled to this point, all the way from the Ocean at the tip of India was pretty incredible. As we began to descend, the same kids chased after us. We did the decent thing and gave them a backie down to Daman, whooping as we went.

Snow capped Manaslu

Dog tired, we ate daal bhat, washed tired legs and enjoyed the evening Sun setting over the Himalaya. We'd been told that the best spot to see the view was 2km back up the hill we'd cycled down that afternoon! The thought of going back on our tracks was too much so the next day we left the bikes behind and set off on foot to watch the sunrise with the hope of seeing Everest. After fighting off a couple of angry dogs and picking our way through the forest as the first light of day began to break, we found the posh hotel where we stood and watched the sunrise over the entire Himalaya range. 

Difficult to know what else to say really after 87 days of cycling with hope of seeing that moment, but it didn't disappoint. We sat for hours as the sun warmed us, glancing up continuously to check the peaks were still there!

We dragged ourselves away for an overpriced coffee and plodded sleepily back down the hill stopping at a magical Bhuddist stupa and shrine clinging to the mountainside on our way.

We packed our bags one last time, a routine which is now honed to perfection, and secured everything in place for what was meant to be long glorious winding descent to Kathmandu. What followed was the longest and hardest day of the whole trip! We'd dreamed of a perfect Swiss Alpine road with smooth curves and an even smoother surface. We were obviously suffering the effects of the altitude! The road regularly disintegrated into a muddy gravely mush, the potholes were big enough to swallow a truck and the hairpins were brutal. The 51km to the bottom of the hill left every joint aching and nerves tingling. Even with all that, it was a beautiful ride in the morning winter light. You can't quite describe the feeling of free wheeling along a twisty mountain rode with a thousand metre drop to your left inching past a huge oil tanker on your right unbelievably going up the opposite way. We passed homes clinging impossibly onto the hillside with terraces contouring below. There were the first signs of the effects of the earthquake with temporary shelters next to cracked stone houses.

With rattling bones we reached Naubise and gorged on daal bhat, chai and Nepali doughnuts again, before attacking the notoriously busy road and the final climb into the Kathmandu Valley. This road funnels all of the traffic over the pass, in need of constant repair, to get to Kathmandu. The stream of diesel belching trucks was endless and the steepness of the climb relentless. There finally were tears from me (Kat!) at the top and which needed a long hug, oberved with purplexed smiles by local shop keeper. We couldn't help but buy two Kit-Kats from her after that! For the next 3 hours we then battled the infamous Kathmandu traffic. As legs and concentration tired we were forced to make an emergency stop at 'Bro Bakery' to get away from the bashed up buses and speeding toyota Hiace minivans and had the best latte and freshly baked croissant this side of the Eiffel Tower. It was marvellous and pushed us forward to our final couch surf with Aabhash and his family in a suburb East of Kathmandu. 

Pushing tired legs to the limit, after more than seven hours cycling, the last climb to Dancchi, our home for the next two nights, was possibly the steepest of the whole trip but as the early evening Sun set over Kathmandu, we'd made our final stop and met Aabhash with a cup of steaming chai after 89 days on the road. A combination of utter fatigue, delight we were still in one piece and amazement that we were actually in Kathmandu meant we flopped happily into waiting chairs and a very busy, friendly family home. Kanyukamari to Kathmandu complete!

Final stats you've all been waiting for...

Total Distance: 4,599.14km + (55km by truck and 28km by toy train!)

Total Saddle Time: 250:53:37

Average Speed: 18.32km/hour

Maximum Altitude: 2,537m

Minimum Altitude: 0m

Punctures: 1 (Amazing Schwalbe tyres)

Saddle Sores: Now can heal at last!

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year and spending loads of love. Entries might be a bit more sporadic as we're off into the mountains after a quick trip to Dubai for a silly GP exam!

Love Ed and Kat

Xxxx

All India Permit...

"Ummm Ed, is that an elephant!?" The dense mist parted and the dark shadow we assumed was an approaching lorry reavled itself as a gently swaying elephant, ambling down the middle of the road. Not the rush hour traffic we usually encounter!

We'd spent a very peaceful three days staying with a family in Ganj, a village near the tourist draw of Orchha. They were in fact one of eight families involved in a small community project, Friends of Orchha, aiming to improve the quality of life of some of the poorest people through responsible tourism. Each family was offered an interest free loan from which they could renovate one room, install a dry composting toilet and shower and provide hand washing facilities. This room, through the NGO, could be booked by tourists looking to avoid another night in a hotel. The family could also offer home cooked food and more importantly chai for a small cost. They had specifically chosen the lower caste families who, in the societal hierarchy, came very much at the bottom. At the beginning of the programme, many families raised concerns that tourists would not want to eat food that had been prepared by people of a lower caste. Apparently it took some persuading to explain that tourists would not know, care about or fully understand these entrenched caste taboos.

Now however, the programme has been running for over a decade and almost all have repaid their loan from income generated from the room rent and food. Their monthly salary, which averaged 2,000 rupees a month (£23), has increased to nearly 10,000 (£120). Our room came off a small courtyard, with a freshly spread soft cow dung floor, charpoy (bed/table/seat/bike repair stand) in one covered corner and beautiful smelling roses in the other. The ceiling was decorated with old saris sewn together and the walls were vibrant red. We ate our meals with the boisterous, happy family sat on the floor around the gas stove (its not quite cold enough yet to stoke up the fire). They all, including the dad, sung and danced like Bollywood stars completely comfortable in front of us.

We did talk about more serious things in broken 'Hinglish'; lack of education of the village women; abortion; birth control and the aspirations of the eldest daughter in a family with no son (she wants to join the army!). Their home provided the perfect escape and refuge for us to visit the palaces around which Orchha was built.

There's definitely a good reason why so many tourists visit Orchha. We spent a happy two days pottering around the many palaces, ruins, chhatris (cenotaphs) and temples. The symmetry, endless towers and staircases of the Indo-Islamic architecture made it feel like you were wondering around an Escher painting.

Thick mists shrouded the minarets and high arched walk ways adding a sense of drama to the vast decaying palaces. This felt all the more real standing 5 storeys up on a rickety balcony, watching a vulture perched like a statue above you, not a health and safety officer in sight! One of the most magical places we found was the Baobab tree standing like a vast upside down toilet brush over looking the village.

We left Orchha in the same thick mists that had greeted us and headed out to cross the Betwa river. We joined thousands of pilgrims who had come to bathe in the holy water to celebrate Ram Ram's wedding, an important Hindu God. It was while we were peddeling through the nature reserve on the other side of the river that we were greeted by our lumbering long trunked friend. While Kat got the camera at the ready, I slowly rolled over to say hello. The elephant's keepers beckoned me across the road and as I stood in his path, he gave me a morning kiss on my bike helmet! Then, before we knew it, he was slowly swaying off into the mist again. As we cycled off, the whole experience seemed a bit dream like... a kiss from an elephant at 7 in the morning?!

We then had two days of cycling to reach our next little stop in Khajuraho, this time with a homestay called Friends in Khajuraho. Khajuraho is famous for its beautiful temples and exquisite stone carving. It's real draw is the nature of the carving. One of its most famous scenes shows that "man and horse really can be best friends" says the Lonely Planet! The Chandelas (folk responsible for building the temples nearly a thousand years ago) were "generally at war when they weren't inventing new sexual positions!" Both elements of their lifestyle was represented liberally in the carvings.

Being a tourist favourite, the good coffee, which has become a small quest since arriving in India, was free flowing but with that came the persistent touts and inevitable requests for "rupee chocolate schoolpen" from the local slightly feral children. Given the current on going debacle with demonitarisation in India, the shop keepers were looking a little more desperate than normal, as none of the tourists had any rupees to spend. The only ATM with money was out of action after a helpful monkey broke in and attempted to do a little bit of rewiring! Trying to speak to the bank manager is not without its hazards either. Asking politely where his office is located whilst a guard casually holds a double barrelled shot-gun inches from your nose is taking some getting used too! So once again, our homestay in the old village was a refuge from the bustle of the city.

It was run by Vio and her husband Vijay. Vio was in fact from France and had lived in Leeds and Edinburgh before moving to Varanasi and studying Hindi and Indian classical violin for 7 years. For the last two years she had been married to Vijay and living in his childhood home in Khajuraho. It was really interesting taking to Vio about adapting to life in an Indian family, extended relations coming and going, different people asleep on the floor each night and all that with a nine month old baby. She said there are always people ready to share their opinions on how best to rear a small child and it sounded like a struggle at times reconciling the culture clash. Undoubtedly, the family seemed completely at ease and Lila, their little baby, is going to grow up with an amazingly diverse outlook not to mention at least four languages! We certainly felt very happy to have our first cup of "proper" Yorkshire Tetley tea with Vio doing her best Yorkshire accent.

We left Khajuraho in the chilly mists that are a regular feature these days. As we climbed into Panna Tiger Reserve we left the mist behind and rode through the shafts of warm sunlight that filtered through the jungle. We rounded another hairpin and saw two rangers next to their parked jeep. One had an antennae in hand. As we cycled passed, we jokingly cried 'tiger?!', not expecting the reply we got. They both nodded excitedly and pointed just below where we'd been cycling! Like the brave explorers we are, we didn't hang around and upped the cadence for the next few kilometers! We made it through the perfectly quiet wilderness to Panna, our stop over.

Panna had signs of old money, built on its famous diamond mines. It's many grand buildings had an air of faded glory and nature seemed to reclaiming their roof tops. As we watched a brilliant orange sun set over the quiet lake at the edge of town, surrounded by the crumbling domes of temples, we were reminded of a quote from the book we're  reading, A Suitable Boy, "...even those who live in great mansions turn to dust in the end, in which even donkeys roll". Ed was lucky to be able to sit and have such philosophical thoughts, after a close encounter with a cow in the market earlier that afternoon. Having just picked a lovely bunch of bananas, he crossed the road a little to close for comfort for a passing bull who, much to the amusement of the stall traders, swung his head and attempted to bury his horn in Ed's bottom! Having experienced the result of twice daily daal on Ed's bowels, I do have some sympathy for the cow!

We then started a nine day plod to Kushinagar to see a serenely sleeping Buddha. Dropping from Panna to the plains and the Ganges below was a dream this morning. Clear and smooth roads led us down the densely forrested mountain side through misty morning sunlight. Along the way, we passed what must have been nearly 50 women, each carrying a huge load of firewood perched on their head, all walking down hill. God knows what time they must have got up. In amongst them, a lone man ambled along carrying absolutely f**king nothing! I asked him as we passed "where's your wood?" He waved and smiled! Another example of the often gaping chasam between the workload of men and women. Some men obviously do work hard but if the chai stalls are anything to go by, a fair few could do with a kick up the arse!

It was so cold today we didn't even take our coats off and are even considering a pair of gloves! We wouldn't want you thinking you're the only ones struggling through this winter. We had to wear scarves, wolly hats and puffer jackets to go shopping this afternoon... possibly slight over kill but winter appears to be coming for everyone in the Northern Hemisphere. Even the goats and baby buffalo have started sporting their winter knitwear. 

Just the other day, pottering along under another clear blue sky, we chatted about the last time we'd seen a cloud. It had literally been two months. We've learnt that saying these stupid things in India normally results in the opposite happening almost immediately. We hadn't imagined that we would be crossing the Ganges in mist so dense you could barely see your front wheel but that was what Mother Ganga had planned! As it turns out, the Gangetic basin is bloody misty this time of year and weeks can go by without it clearing. A combination of a cooling breeze from the Himalaya, a change in the prevailing winds, its lowly altitude (basically sea level), horrible pollution and the myriad of irrigation channels means that it's not just Cornwall that suffers from mizzle!

We found the perfect way to fight the cold in Atarra, a little dirty but charming town built around a railway junction. After posting our Chritsmas cards in a post office which looked more like a second world war sorting office (likely 250 rupees down the drain so don't hold your breath for our seasons greetings!) and having India's Best Roti (a title we have bestowed after months of research), cooked on the street in a clay oven, we settled down for a night cap (more chai!).

The chai wallah's stall was a wooden work bench at waist height on four bicycle wheels. He was a small wrinkly old fellow whose face was almost expressionless. He had a tattered wolly hat and scarf to fight the chill. A beadie (Indian cigarette) hung impossibly from his lower lip. In front of him, a rudimentary camping stove which he pumped intermittently to fuel the flames and keep the chai bubbling. Every now and then he either poured a cup of tea for a cold customer or nonchalantly lit a match to light his cigarette before flicking it in a perfect arc into the road. Up and down the dark street, during another black out, groups of people sat huddled around small smokey fires. The smoke and their chatter mingled with the falling mist. As we sat with flames warming our backs, chai in hand, we wondered how long India would continue to play out these scenes.

As we've moved from region to region we've often been warned about the perils that await us in the next state. So we entered Uttar Pradesh (UP) with some trepidation having been told that we would be cycling through 'The Bad Lands'. We were a little unsure what this meant but imagined being held up by masked highway men in blacked-out auto rickshaws. Thankfully the mist has been so dense we appear to have snuck passed them so far. Our safe passage through UP was made all the more speedy after drafting a tractor and trailer and cruising at 30km/hr for over an hour (very safely Irena!), much to amusement of the trailer's passengers who must've thought we were bonkers!

Three wise men offering their route advice. We're not sure they'd ever seen a map before!

Another thing to cheer up the misty days has been the Muslim festival of Mawlid-an-Nadi celebrating the birthday of the Prophet Mohammed. If there's one thing we've noticed, it's that India knows how to put on a good sound and light display. This festival was no exception with walls of speakers thumping out beats loud enough to change the rhythm of your heart and streets lined with row upon row of green strip lights, LED jelly fish, and strings of multicoloured fairylights. The streets were transformed with happy revellers taking many happy selfies. It was a fantastic spectacle and surrounded by the flashing lights, it looked a little more like something out of a sci-fi film than a birthday party!

We reached Kushinagar in the fading light after our longest day in the saddle (over seven hours!). Made slightly longer by a road block along the way which a friendly bystander advised us to avoid in case things got nasty... maybe there is something to this 'Bad Lands' talk?! Our diversion took us though some beautifully quiet rural roads and a few dreaded cobbled ones. Our weary legs peddled into Kushinagar, Bhudda's final resting place, hoping to find a friendly Tibetan Temple to take in two tired dirty 'pilgrims'. As we reached the Temple gates, a smiling monk in maroon robes welcomed us in with perfect English and led us to one of the most peaceful places we've stayed in.

The peace was occasionally disturbed by the odd kick around which I couldn't help joining in! We knew monks loved football from David's time spent living in a Tibetan monastery in Dharamshala but there they all supported Liverpool. You can imagine Kat's delight when she heard that these monks were huge Arsenal fans!

Fantastic game of monkie in the middle outside the Temple!

With our trusty steeds cleaned, we set them aside for a few days rest. Needless to say, we've become quite attached to our two wheeled friends! Kushinagar is a quiet spiritual place visited by many robed monks and Bhuddist pilgrims from all over the world. At the site where it is thought that Bhudda was cremated, a vast brick stupa was excavated and now sits in a peaceful garden where monks and pilgrims alike meet to meditate, chant, light candles, burn incense and rub gold leaf onto the stupa. We simply sat and listened and tried to absorb some of the magic of the place. We watched a group of robed pilgrims in two perfect lines, encircling the stupa, chanting a deep resonant prayer, led by saffron robed monks. It transported us to another place and felt slightly otherworldly (and a little bit like a scene from Star Wars... I'm sure I saw the glint of a light sabre under one of those robes!). 

All jokes aside, it was an incredibly special place and after finally leaving the mists of the Gangetic basin behind, we rode into Nepal this morning in warm sunshine. It's been an unforgettable three months and we left with the resonant hum of India's spirituality pushing us gentley onwards and more importantly upwards (current altitude 19m above sea level!)... or was that hum the 10km que of trucks we passed, burping diesel fumes, waiting to cross the border too?! You can never be sure of anything in India! 

Namaste!

Loads of love Ed and Kat

P.s Happy Christmas if you don't hear from us! Not sure about WiFi in Nepal!

Xxxxxxxxx

"You don't need to post it to prove it!"

Although we've seen some crazy driving, it wasn't until we headed off towards Burhanpur on the main road from Jalgaon that we came across the first serious accident. The road was as busy as you could imagine. Truck after truck flew by leaving us little room to escape their draft. When we've found ourselves in this position before we tuck in together, heads down and push the peddles to get to a safer place as soon as possible. We knew we had 20km to endure and we felt pretty vulnerable but with 10km left to go the trucks on our side of the road all came to a slow grinding halt. As the smallest vehicle on the road, we were able to weave through the building que of lorries. As the waiting traffic became more impatient, bus drivers (often the worst) started to pull out and overtake the que of vehicles with no consideration for anyone but themselves and their timetable. This resulted in a tangled gridlocked mess. We were amazed that an ambulance sailed passed but it must have been the last thing to get through for hours. With the motorbikes we wove our way through 10km of diesel fumes and blaring Hindi music, as drivers and passengers milled on the side of the road. After an hour of very slow progress we were both desperate for a wee! The roadside offered little shelter so all I could do was cross my legs while Ed braved the onlooking crowds, lent his bike against an oil tanker and had a wonderful, if a little high pressured, wee! Eventually we came to a bridge and the source of the incident that had led to the tailback. Two huge, colourfully decorated TATA trucks had collided head on in the middle of the narrow bridge, which was now both impassable and surely overloaded well past its structural capacity. We crunched through the debris trying to avoid looking at the wreckage but I noticed a comb amongst the broken glass and twisted metal and couldn't help thinking of the poorly equipped ambulance and the young men we normally see driving these big trucks. 

Being the smallest vehicles on the road we were able to pass through gaps others found impassable and finally reached the other side of the bridge and the empty road beyond with a huge sigh of relief, especially as I found a quiet wee stop! The remaining 70km was beautifully peaceful and we sailed through the banana plantations Burhanpur is famous for in time to reach our next couch surfer, Abbas, for lunch.

Abbas rescued us from another crowd of raucous children in tight twisting old city streets. One cheeky little scamp with slight fingers nearly ran off with Kat's back light!

Abbas turned out to be a handsome young entreprennur with a very shiny powerful Royal Enfield. But there was much more to this young man than just his motorbike. He immediately took us into his aunties house, our hostess, and sat us down for another beautifully cooked meal which started with a huge slab of ice cream! We ate in his Musilm families tradition, sharing from a central plate filled with home cooked delights while sat on the floor.

After finishing lunch, we then crossed the road to meet his fantastic family. Everyone was round! His mother had made her signature dish, a 'custard' like treat you've never tried before and needless to say we went back for thirds! One of Abbas' most interesting relatives was his Uncle. We were promptly sat down and then introduced to not one but three interpretations of the Mona Lisa! 

What followed is quite difficult to put into words. His work ranged from an image of India made from a single growing plant with a multitude of different flowers to symbolise the diversity that stems from one common root, to a 'Daliesq 'Last Supper' scene where aliens from each of the planets were devouring the remains of mankind after humans successfully bought about the destruction of earth! The meaning and symbolism of each piece was beautifully described by Abbas' cousin, with interjections from the artist himself. We hope one day his wish comes true and his work is exhibited in a London gallery so you can all appreciate his masterpieces!

Family photos followed before Abbas and his childhood friend, both members of the Royal Enfield Club, whisked us off for a motorbike tour of historical Burhanpur which started with chai behind his favourite haunt. There we met a local celebrity, Rock Star Neal and his director! Sadly, we missed the opportunity to feature in his next music video which they were shooting the next day. Sitting in a smokey chai stall talking about 2001 Space Odessey with a director incredibly passionate about the work of Steven Spielberg was a little surreal! 

We soon discovered, whilst whizzing through Burhanpur's twisted medieval streets, narrowly avoiding tongas (small horse drawn carts) and the usual array of human and animal life that 18.02km/hour (our average speed) is a rather sedate pace! That's not to say that flying along on motorbikes, wind in our hair with the setting Sun disappearing over the dusty horizon wasn't a good feeling!

Abbas had planned a historical tour of the often overlooked sights Burhanpur has to offer. Even our trusted guidebook failed to mention that the Queen, for whom the Taj Mahal was eventually built as a tomb, was in fact initially burried in Burhanpur. Unfortunately, the quality of the local white marble just wasn't up to scratch and so the plans for laying her to rest in the city were scrapped and her body was exhumed and transferred to Agra where the Taj Mahal now stands today. That meant no visit from Princess Diana as we've often been told and Burhanpur disappeared from the tourist route, it's once famous connections forgotten. 

Unfortunately, our attempts to see many of the relics were thwarted. That included a failed attemp to sneak into the princesses baths on the river side and being denied admission to the world famous pilgrimage site, the Dargah-e-Hakini (tomb complex including Mosque and gardens) after arriving five minutes after Sun down. Seeing the transformation when Abbas and his friend changed out of their casual t-shirt and jeans into crisp white beautifully embroidered kurtas, pyjama trousers and koofi was well worth the failed visit.

We managed to avoid the cocktail party at the local bar (claiming old age and weary legs) and spent a happy evening in the company of Abbas and his family. Conversation flitted from religion to marriage, business to demonitarisation, scientology and social media. It was very refreshing to hear someone else bemoaning the constant use of technology. His favourite quote being "you don't need to post it to prove it!" His mum however really stole the show and the hug and kiss Kat received on the morning of our departure said it all. It had been another incredible couch surf and we definitely count Abbas as a new friend.

Although we're quick to criticise overuse of technology, we have to hold our hands up and say that googlemaps has been our saviour, guiding us faithfully every day to our next destination. There has been the odd disappearing bridge or dead end track but that's all just part of the adventure. What Google, our GPS and our dodgy Indian map fail to show us is the finer details. As we set off each mourning we have no idea what the day will bring and that was the case as we peddled off to our next stop Khandwa. We quickly left Burhanpur's streets behind and were soon climbing slowly up through a barren landscape. The road twisted between dry rocky outcrops and scattered parched trees. We reached a pass and found ourselves on a desolate plateau. Up there, a few collections of simple mud huts clung together and the lined faces of the villagers we saw on the road pointed to a hard existence. Although we were only at an altitude of 400m it felt as if we were passing through the Hindu Kush. 

Normal chai stop!! 

Travelling by bicycle certainly brings you up close and personal with your surroundings. Of course there's the amazing wildlife and beautiful views that we've bored you  with so much but there's also a slightly grubbier side to life on a bicycle in India! Aside from the decaying dead dogs and other squashed animals that litter the roadside, amongst heaps of smoking rubbish, there is often other things lurking on the verge. Starring back at you are bright eyes and a line of bare bottoms belonging to children taking their morning poo with their stainless steel beaker of water at the ready! You can't help but smile when a few hundred metres down the road you see that same boy, 70 years later, squatting down, arse to the wind, weathered face to the road still going through the same morning routine! Old habits die hard!

Friendliest chai wallah you've ever met!

The road was smooth and free of traffic and soon we rolled into Khandwa. We swapped our usual gawdy concrete lodge for an atmospheric hotel in a restored 19th Century colonial British Army barracks. We planned on pottering into town to go to the market but we were spared the walk by two friendly engineers who offered us a lift. One of them thought he may have read an article about our trip in the local paper (Our new found fame was later confirmed with a text from our former host Pooja)!

Proof we're famous... Although no idea what it says!

Thinking nothing about jumping in the back of the car we set off down town. While we trundled along they started laughing and went on to explain how honoured they felt that we, after a chance meeting, had enough trust to hop in their car. We admitted it hadn't really crossed our minds, anything to spare tired legs, but in the same situation back home we explained we would probably be much more cautious. Fortunately, our trust was well founded and they led us to the most famous chai stall in Khandwa!

When conditions are good the kilometres seem to slide by pretty fast and with over 3000km in our legs, the Brooks saddles are finally softening! We're actually planning our route and entry point into Nepal which seems a little hard to imagine after 58 days on the road and 164 hours on the bikes!

After a night's rest at the peaceful riverside ghats in Hoshangerbad, we set off to face our biggest city yet, Bhopal (population 1.8 million). After an unexpectedly steep climb, that left lorries littering the road, unable to pull their load up the incline, the approach to Bhopal began. The quiet countryside was replaced by the rush of traffic into the city. We've found our response to heavy traffic differs considerably. I lapse into silent, focused concentration  whereas Ed follows every near miss with a near endless string of expletives and hand gestures as the offending vehicle races off oblivious (it seems to make him feel better....each to their own!). As we were losing all hope, the lorries were diverted on to the ring road and we sailed into the city on a comparatively empty highway to meet Vinod and Shirin, our next hosts. 

We eventually found their beautiful home in a peaceful suburb of Bhopal. Vinod, a retired bank manager, was ready and waiting with his two energetic dogs Inchie and Elsie. We were immediately welcomed and promptly sat down for chai and before we knew it, we were setting the world to rights with Vinod's interesting take on Indian politics at large as well as the fiasco of demonitarisation. He is incredibly well read and his knowledge of world affairs put us to shame. Later, when retelling a story of calving a heifer with David and Howard one Christmas Eve, he and Shirin explained that they were huge James Herriot fans! Not the sort of literature we were expecting!

That evenjng we sat down in their softly lit sitting room filled with antiques and artwork. from their travels with a whiskey and soda listening to Jonny Cash. It certainly didn't feel like we'd only met that morning. We chatted so much we sailed passed our normal 9 o'clock bedtime... getting up at 5am every morning takes its toll!

Vinod openly admitted to having very little involvement in household matters! He was certainly a loveable rogue! Finding the tea leaves in his own kitchen was hard enough let alone switching on the washing machine! However, if you have a specialist list of items on your shopping list (handle bar tape, contact lens solution, factor 50 Lotus suncream and 43mm polarizing UV filter) Vinod is your man! We were schoffeured around in luxury and having found everything, even made it home in time for another incredible home cooked meal.

On our second night, he had arranged our first real Indian dinner party with his sister and her husband Colonel Samuel, who came brandishing a bottle of London Dry Gin and Bitter straight from his army days. This made a bit of a mockery of our second Indian medical consultation with Vinod before dinner. At Shirin's request we interpreted numerous blood tests and then started the good cop bad cop routine about a few lifestyle modifications! It was difficult to be too severe on someone who brings the best out of everyone around him. We sat together, drank, ate and laughed like we were with old mates. It was very tempting to accept their offers of a longer stay but with slightly sore heads we packed our bags and with Colonel Samuel escorting us to our route on his morning paseo, we headed off to escape Bhopal's rush hour at dawn the next day. 

A quick and peaceful cycle led us to Sanchi, where there is a collection of Bhuddist monuments and Stupas dating back to 262 B.C. Pure luck meant our visit coincided with the annual festival and we explored the beautiful monuments at dawn with a few hundred bhuddist monks dressed in their saffron robes and an assortment of wolly hats to guard against the cold.

We plan our routes trying to keep to the smaller roads  (sometimes they end up a little too small - 40km today on roads better suited to a full suspension mountain bike than our steel framed tourers!). 

Some of the rural backwaters and dusty industrial towns, dominated by very noisy trains (thank God for earplugs!) that we end up in are certainly not on the tourist trail but this means occasionally you peddle across a hidden gem. Chanderi was one such chance find. We spent a happy afternoon getting lost in its bustling ancient bazaars, crumbling elegant palaces and its deserted otherworldly 15th century mosque. We made it up to the fort, from where you could see the mix of crumbling courtyards, towers and trelliced balconies below. From there we watched the sun disappear over the hills before a family of monkeys took up their positions on the battlements.

We're now 81km away from Orchha where we're going to rest weary legs for 3 whole nights before the real push to Nepal begins. 

Lots of love,

Ed and Kat

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