At least that’s what I think on the fourth day of my mountain biking adventure in remote Eastern Nepal. Only 24 hours before I had climbed up to the temple of Pathibara Devi. At 3794 metres high it isn’t just an amazing viewpoint of Kachenjunga and Makalu (three of the five highest peaks in the world), it’s also an important Hindu pilgrimage were thousands of devotees congregate to make offerings to the goddess in return for some godly intervention. I decided to ask the her to make my upcoming bike trip a safe one without any major inconveniences. I hadn’t taken up a goat with me for slaughtering, but left a 10 rupees note hoping that it would be sufficient for a first-time requester like me.
But now I was regretting not leaving a more valuable offering behind. Over the last 24 hours I had crushed twice on a downhill section, my chain who at the beginning of my ride sounded like a purring kitten had started to rattle like the last grasping of a dying chain-smoker, the chain would regularly jam on the steep up-hill, a while back I had lost my map of the region and now all of the sudden it started raining. Big, lush, tropical rain drops were slowly transforming the orange dusty dirt road I was riding on into a brightly red quicksand that heavily stuck to my tires. As I stopped along the road, I suddenly realised that it came to an end not even 50 metres further. So here I was in the middle of nowhere, miles away from a hotel or shop, slowly getting wet at the end of a road I was supposed to follow into the next village. On the edge of despair I sit down and watch small Nepali man walk towards me with a little smile on his face. He only speaks basic English and that’s a lot better than my basic Nepali, but he understands my predicament and invites me over to stay at his family’s house for the night. It would be a recurring team for this trip: me pushing on along a remote track and the warm Nepali hospitality and generosity saving my ass. Or as Paul Theroux says it so much better: “Most travel, and certainly the rewarding kind, involves depending on the kindness of strangers, putting yourself into the hands of people you don’t know and trusting them with your life.”
How exactly did I get here you might ask. After returning from my Langtang hike I received some bad news. Two leaders of the JVF NGO I was supposed to work with had been involved in a horrific bus crash and as a consequence my project was postponed indefinitely. Off course I regretted this fact a lot, but I could easily understand that this small community had bigger worries right now than accommodating a volunteer. I hope that I might come back in the future to this great project.
The following day I woke up with the plan to rent a bike, jump on a bus and get as far East as possible before returning back by bicycle connecting small villages, dusty roads and hundreds of friendly people along the way. At times it definitely was rough and challenging, but most of the time it turned out to be an amazing experience. It’s hard to capture everything but these are just some of the great encounters I have experienced along the way:
– When I bicycle into Thembe and ask around for a place to have lunch, a teenager tells me he works in a hotel and shows me the way. Instead he takes me to a wedding and promptly I get turned into the guest of honour.
– Some of the stretches are too step to ride up, so I have to carry my bike on my shoulders for hours at times. During an afternoon like this I stumble upon a group of boys who show me the way to their swimming hole where I have an amazingly refreshing swim.
– Everywhere I pass local kids would scream “bicycle” at the top of their lungs and then run along with me for miles. But nowhere it was so overwhelming as riding along the school of Chepte in the middle of their break. All of the sudden I’ve got hundreds of students running along with me. I’ve got the biggest smile ever on my face and don’t even realise I’m missing a turn-off where I’ll have to return back to two hours later.
– One night I’m riding/climbing up a road that’s still under construction. At 17.30 the sun has already disappeared behind the ridge and I haven’t seen a house for the last hour. Starting to wonder where I’ll sleep/eat that night, I stumble upon a road construction crew. Once they hear my sad story they invite me to stay at their basic camp and share their food with me.
– When two mornings later I bike through a small town, I see several kids with bloody red hands and an old lady with a broom chasing them away. I can only figure out what it means once I stop in the next village and I get assaulted by kids with red powder, it’s Holi. The festival of colour and I’m gladly invited to participate.
In the end I’ve ended up bicycling 18 days in some of the remotest sections of Nepal. Starting from Ilam I went to Phiddim, Taplejung, Dobhan, Deurali, Chainpur, Bhojpur, Diktel, Okhaldunga, Rampur, Khiji to Dhare. I’ve run into only three other foreigners during this trip. But the hundreds of friendly Nepali people along the way make sure I never feel lonely along the way.
So what’s ahead for me now? Well, I’m currenlty in Pokhara to relax and try to put on some extra weight. In a week my friend Remy arrives here. We hiked together for a stretch on the PCT last year and we’ve decided to hike the Great Himalaya Trail together. What has been a dream I’ve hoped to realise in a couple of years from now all of the sudden has become a very big reality right now. It will probably be the most challenging undertaking I have ever done. Around 1500 kilometres of hiking along the crest of the might Himalaya range, crossing Nepal from East to West. I look forward to it as much as I’m afraid of it. It will be the pinnacle of all my hiking adventures till now.
You can find more pictures of my MTB trip here.