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