Nothing is Impassible

Lonely Planet Nepal says "you should absolutely not drive through western Nepal to the Indian border during monsoon season due to impassible roads caused by landslides, washed out bridges and Maoist activities." As I sit here in Rishikesh, India, our caravan of motorcycles has accomplished the impossible impassible...and it was one of the best adventures and learning experiences (for growth) that I have ever had. Danuvad (thank you) again, life! Day 1: There is finally petrol! We fill up the bikes and some tanks of reserve. Ed, Alex and I joined a five bike caravan of an Australian named Simon and an English couple named Fern and Sharif. Sharif gives 'Honey' - the bike I fell in love with and hope to ride some day if I return to Nepal - a lovetap on his way out. Rick tells us that we should definately not camp as we are heading through "tiger country." Alex and Ed seem unfazed. I am not so nonplussed, but remain silent. As it turns out, the weather keeps us in guesthouses throughout our trip. We stop at a shanty little hill town in a few hours and have dahl baht for lunch. I break my no-beer policy and share a tepid beer which is cooling in the Nepali heat. After another couple hours of driving through the sunny heat, we stop at a river and decide to go swimming. I swim in my full pants and tank top to avoid offending any of the dozens of Nepali children screaching and smiling at us as we flounder about in the soothing, clear water. We get back on the bikes in dripping wet clothes and are dry within 15 minutes. That is, until the rain storm comes and we pull over alongside a bus so that we won't be blown over the stunning hillscape that surrounds us. A landslide occurs on the road we've just crossed and rocks start falling onto the road. Without a second's thought, Alex and Ed run back onto the road to warn the others that there is a landslide. They successfully warn the others and no one is hurt. A few hours later, we reach our destination of Tansen. At the entrance to town, we savor chocolate, as well as Beetle Nut juice - I don't like this, except that the final taste is a sharp peppermint. Nonentheless, spitting red juice is not my cup of tea. Tansen is nestled against a large hill and has multi-leveled structures built into the slope of the mountain. It is a lively little town of switchback streets and street vendors. Alex knows a man in town who takes us to an underground restaurant in someone's home with a pool table. We have the omnipresent dahl baht and enjoy a bottle of Australian red wine that Fern has brought with her. We then play pool with the two little boys of the home until the proprietors kick us out. We go back to a stinky hotel room and sleep, even though Fern and Sharif have discovered a little insect with lobster claws that isn't a scorpion or a bedbug, but not too attractive to share a bed with. I share a room with a nice Australian guy named Simon with dreadlocks and a giant smile, who is in our caravan. He's easy and respectful. He was the first to come upon the falling rocks earlier that day and I'm glad that he's so easygoing as this won't be an easy journey. The next morning we set out early after stocking up on petrol at the station. Within a few kilometers through the stunning valley between the mountains, we must go through the aftermath of giant mudslides that cover the road. Alex dexterously maneouvers the motorbike through the sludge again and again and my confidence in him as a driver grows and grows. I think about how a bus would handle the same and feel safer on the back of Alex's motorbike than any other mode of transportation. Plus, he's funny, amiable and a good laugh. Lucky me. As we stop for some tea at a dusty, busy little town, we meet a Nepali boy who speaks English and will not stop talking. I become acutely aware of how much I appreciate the usual quiet aspects of travelling on the road. Alex and I drive along and it's fun to flirt with him on the back of the bike. That night, we stop at another dirty hotel along the banks of a river in a busy little village with not much to do. Fern and I are advised that the lads are having boys night and we are not allowed to play cards with them. Neither of us care and go to sleep amid the laughing of the boys as they outman eachother in a game of shithead. The next day, we sleep in and get a late start. We drive through breathtakingly beautiful countryside and forests. We come across a flooded road and plot how exactly we are to drive across a flooded road that extends for about 1/8 mile. Fern and I walk across the flood and the lads adventurously drive through. When they've successfully accomplished the mission, Ed and Simon decide to drive back and go it again. They are having so much fun and it's clear that they're only 25 and 20 respectivley having an incredible adventure on their giant Enfields. We carry on in the pouring rain and it subsides after a while. After some time, Alex stops on the side of the road to purchase a net bag of mushrooms from a beautiful group of Nepalese country girls. The mushrooms smell just like truffles and I'm amazed he was able to buy them for pennies. It is of no consequence to Alex that we don't know how to cook them, he just assumes it will all work out. Per usual, he's right. The rain starts pouring down and we pull over to see that Ed has also pulled over to take refuge in a large open air structure that has tables and an outdoor kitchen. The whole of the village joins us and while Ed and Alex cover eachother's faces with lavender tikka chalk to the amusement of the villagers, I am writing down the names of the children. They are beautiful names like Susmita Kadka and Sangani Kadka and Resra Suestra and Moisa Suestra and Savista Basnet and Suraj Kanal and Sarosj Kanal. We take pictures of the entire party as the rain pours down around us. It finally stops and we are on our way again. A lovely woman gives me her contact information (snail mail via a local hotel) and tells me to keep in touch with her. We carry on through absolutely stunning countryside along rivers and forests. It is so peaceful and although stormy and grey, the bright pink and yellow saris worn by the women dots every landscape. Children play happily and there are speckled umbrellas through all of the rice fields and rippling concentric circles through the water as people pluck and pluck and pluck at the rice within the watered patty fields. It is absolutely beautiful. Again, I can't believe my luck and appreciate the pace and ability to experience so much of this country via motorcycle. During the ride, I suddenly feel like singing the national anthem, but spare Alex and sing a Hindi mantra instead. He likes those, I think. We end up in another washed out hotel after checking several guesthouses in the next busy little town. The proprietors have the lads drive their bikes in through the back gate and the mud is so thick that every one nearly falls over. Simon does, in fact, fall over. He's unhurt. There is a bat swirling around inside the "conference room" and we sit quitely on the floor and watch it - more b/c there's nothing to do than b/c it's so interesting. Then, we proceed to the roof and watch the hospital nearby remain illuminated with the sunset as the rest of the town blackens with the regular electricity blackouts from 7:30 - 9:30 that we've experienced the entire way. We have a nice dahl baht and play some shithead cards and sleep. The next day, Alex and Ed go to a nearby town to get some cash from an ATM. I wake up and realize that yesterday was the 4th of July and I didn't celebrate. No wonder I had the urge to sing about America. What do you know? Alex and Ed pull up to the hotel with a radio and a cassette of Creedence Clearwater Revival to celebrate America's 4th of July. They mixed up the dates, thinking today was the 4th, and I am truly touched. We pack up the bikes and Alex positions the radio behind me so we can play it as we ride. It works for about 40 seconds then oozes into silence. It was a valiant effort. We stop in a town close by for dahl baht and it takes 2.5 hours to cook. I walk along the village and find a woman in a little shed 4x4 ft who is selling only vegetables. That's it. That's her business. I wonder how I'd like to have that business. After a delicious dahl baht that includes the mushrooms Alex bought on the side of the road (and they ARE truffles!), we proceed. Several times, the boys line up there three bikes (Fern and Sharif are not part of this) and race on the flat parts. It's as if we have the entire road to ourselves. After one of these races, Alex and I hear a loud pop and both say "what was that?" I look at the tire and can't see anything, but hear a hissing sound. Suddenly, there is a giant explosion and the back tire bursts. The bike starts swaying back and forth from the back side and Alex masterfully pulls over to the side of the road without losing control. The tire has a giant nail in it. We are in the middle of rice field after rice field after rice field...Villagers suddenly appear as if by magic and tell Ed and Simon where they can go to fix the tire. They go. Without missing a beat, Alex turns on the radio and puts in a tape of indian music he bought. He rolls a cigarrette while I lay out the tarp and backpacks to create a sitting area on the side of the road. The villagers accumulate to a swarm of about 20 and they fascinatingly watch everything that he and I do. We start attempting to skip stones on the river and the village kids join us. Alex starts making farting sounds with his elbow and strange sounds out of his mouth and very soon after, we are surrounded by the onomotopeas of the village children brilliantly mimicking local birds and crickets. It's beautiful. And it's fun. After about two hours, Ed and Simon return with the tire and I give one clever and adorable little boy one of my lucky charms as we drive off to the west. We get to the outskirts of Bardia National Park and the road is washed out by a flash flood. We decide to wait to see if the water will subside in an hour. It doesn't. It's getting dark. Alex and Ed are determined to camp by the side of the river. We set up a tarp and gather large stones to build a fire while Ed looks for firewood. Fern and Sharif say we can stay in a little hotel that is a mud hut. I decide to stay with them even though it is beautiful by the river and the air is clean. We all go back to the hut/restaurant after Ed returns to the camp with wood. There is a Nepali man playing a violin type of instrument and singing about "sometimes rafting, sometimes trekking,.., some pareeree." The first time is charming. The sixth time, not so much. We take turns singing songs that we know. It's a fun dinner. We hear a giant crash nearby and a wild elephant has destroyed someone's fence and disappeared. The rain is pouring down and the lads go back to their camp as I go upstairs to my mud hut room. I get the mud bed. Simon gets the mud floor on a mat. Sharif and Fern share the only other room in the place. I wake up in the middle of the night to go to the outhouse and laugh to find a wet pair of Ed and Alex sleeping on the restaurant table and bench. It's still pouring outside. They disclose the next morning that a "river" went through their camp and they had to seek refuge in the restaurant. They also lost the radio/cassette somehow. We meet a tout for a guesthouse in Bardia National Park that Fern and Sharif have heard of and decide to go into Bardia national park. We first wade across the river and are then picked up by a jeep that carries us in for about 20 miles to a guesthouse. It is again spartan. We go for a lovely walk along a river where Alex and Ed swim and we end up at an elephant sanctuary. I get to pet and feed a beautiful little one year old elephant with Fern. No one else wants to pay the 50 rupees. It makes me very happy to be in such close proximity and eye contact with the elephant. As we walk, we also see Shiva, the domestic rhino. He is only five feet from us, but not a threat. He is a giant, massive beast from the prehistoric age and it is again fascinating to be so close to nature. Everywhere around Nepal, marijuana is growing naturally. It smells very good. Most of the plants are male, i.e. not for smoking. There are also fresh mint and tiger balm amid the ever present rice fields and small village huts. We play a game like dodgeball with a bunch of kids on the side of the river and finally head back to the lodge for a nice dinner. In my bathroom, I feel a giant insect land on me and bite my behind. I don't see it, but I have a stinging giant welt on my butt. The mystery insect.
The next day, we go for a morning safari and don't see tigers or elephants. We do see a spotted deer and a mamma and baby rhino from very far away. It's not an eventful trek as it's monsoon season. We get back to the hotel and are told that we have to spend another night b/c the jeep is unavailable. We start walking and two by two get picked up by motorcyclists and tractors (there are no cars) until we meet at the river. We have to ford the river again and this time it's much higher. We help eachother across through the current and slop through slippery mud to get to the other side. Back at the restaurant, we check the other road we need to take to head west. It's still drowned out by a flash flood. What do we do? We hire two tractors and for 100 rupees per bike, the Nepalis load the bikes onto the tractors and we throw on our luggage and our bodies and cross TWO rivers with the tractors to continue on our path. It is crazy! We cross the border to India, have a final Thali and I part with the lads. They want to drive very fast up to Leh and me and my luggage impede that progress. They have limited time to get to Kashmir and back to Delhi and were thrown off by the fuel shortage. I am terrified to be alone in India, taking a local bus on an overnight trip to Rishikesh, but Alex is very soothing as he tells me "India will take care of you. They you will take care of India." He also says this is the true way to truly experience India. After they have left and I wait for two hours for the bus to leave, I realize I'm not that culture struck. After all, I'm used to the stares of villagers, to shanty villages, to hole in the wall restaurants and hotels and to waiting patiently through many situations of which I have no control. This trip across Nepal has brought my maintenance level to an alltime adult low and I am once again grateful for the way that life so beautifully unfurls from one experience to another.
I don't know why the lads asked me to join them. I asked Alex if he thought I'd say yes when he asked me to join them. He didn't think I would. He said he asked me b/c I seemed like fun and they missed female energy and he wanted the company. So, it worked for all of us. Sometimes, it's best to just go with the flow b/c the flow just gets sweeter and sweeter and then anything that happens is not only passable, but enjoyable. I thank the lads for sharing this with me. I wish them well.
Now, I am in Rishikesh and have been for several days. It is beautiful here, too. There are saddhus lining the streets and it is hard to tell which is a legitimate holy man and which is a drug addict. The Ganga is gorgeous and powerful. The pujas along the river at sunset are filled with sari clad ladies and respectful men who sing and clap and release beautiful flowers and candle into the Ganga every night. There are ashrams everywhere and I have stayed at one: Sri Vet Niketan. It has two swamis and I appreciate the lectures by one about the way we are constantly changing from one level to another in life. He says we are all of the Brahman ilk b/c we are seeking spirituality in a foreign land. He says to marry someone of the same class to complement eachother and to compromise. It gives me hope that b/c I've been shifting to my Brahman state for so long, I wasn't actually ready to meet my man yet b/c I didn't realize who I was.
I got a vedic astrological reading and was told I'll meet a man at 36 years old and die at 71. Venus is my ruling planet. I am 60% pitha (fire) and 40% vatta (air). I found a great ashtanga yoga teacher. I learned some new mantras, but prefer the singsong of the west to the vedic monotone of the east. I leave Rishikesh tomorrow b/c a giant Shiva festival is coming to town with thousands of indian men that get drunk and raucous. All female foreigners are strongly advised to leave during the festival as the police can't control the situation. I'd like to come back to Rishikesh and do some yoga at a different time. The monsoon is closing in - it rains more and more every afternoon and evening. I leave tomorrow on a train to Delhi and will fly to Leh. I don't want to deal with landslides and wild Indian driving on precipitous cliffs on a bus. I wish I had a motorbike...

Motorcycle Diaries

The Lonely Planet guidebook says in no uncertain terms that you should "absolutely not cross the western Nepal border during monsoon as the roads are impassible due to landslides and washed out roads and bridges." Well...not absolutely impassible is what I discovered.