Out the west of Nepal into the north west mountain states of India where the scenery is stunning..
Mayatari to Kohalpur, 350km.
Leaving Mayatari is never easy, as much because I don't know what to do with the handfuls of flowers that each person gives me as I leave as because of the sadness of leaving the little ones.

While Mayatari has a creek that flows year round, providing drinking water for all the villagers, the land south is dramatically dried out at this time of year, a month or so before the monsoon rains fall.

For 110km the road follows the fall of the Andi Khola and Kali Gandaki rivers until it spits you back out into the sweltering heat of the Terai plains. I headed west until sundown, fighting not to let the sadness of leaving overtake me.

Within a couple of hours my arms were burnt to a crisp and I downed a litre and a half of water when I stopped for lunch and again at dinner time. After 350km I pulled into Kohalpur and followed the signs to Central Guest Inn where I was pleasantly surprised to find a comfortable room, restaurant and internet.

Kohalpur – Naini Tal, 350km.
The next day I passed through Bardia National park where I watched nervously as a Rhino butted against a flimsy fence beside the road, with local children standing armed with large rocks ready to fend it off if necessary.

The park was peaceful and isolated, but I needed to escape isolation for a little so I kept moving. The quality of the Mahendra Highway towards the western border with India at Mahendranagar was mostly good and progress was quick.

At the Nepali border post I was sent into customs where the official promptly told me that if I was heading to India I didn't need to talk to him and should proceed to immigration. I was happy with this because I didn't know if there would be scrutiny over the Indian registered bike I had brought into Nepal.

India's new rule (as of January 2010) stating that, even with a multiple-entry visa, one must be outside of India for a period of two months before being allowed back in caused me some problems. I had scrutinised the statement issued by the Department of Immigration and seen that; 1, Any immigration checkpost has the authority to issue a re-entry stamp; 2, the re-entry stamp will be issued if the candidate can produce an onward flight ticket and an itinerary. So I had printed off a copy of a cheap Air Asia ticket I had bought from Kolkata to Kuala Lumpur in June, and written out a rough itinerary thinking that I would be fine. Then the saga began.

Long and short of it, they talked up just how big a problem it was that I didn't have re-entry permission, that they couldn't issue it and that it would be very costly for me to go back to the Indian embassy in Kathmandu. So did I want to go to India, or back to Kathmandu? They were asking for a bribe and I told them this made me unhappy and that I was losing faith in India. I tried to reason with them and appeal to their consciences with references to Spiderman and “with great power comes great responsibility” etc. Eventually I handed over the Nepali rupee equivalent of the 700INR re-entry fee that I would have been charged in Kathmandu, and headed on my way.

Having eventually escaped the border I headed towards the only town that I could remember the name of without pulling out my maps – Naini Tal. It turns out that the place is a little gem of a hill station built around a pretty lake at about 1940 meters altitude. Accommodation was not cheap as this is the beginning of the peak tourist season when thousands of Indians retreat from the oppressive heat of Delhi et. al. to the relative cool of the hills.

Naini Tal – Karnprayag (directly north), 195km.
This was a day of pure riding pleasure. Well, most of it. For the majority of the day I was welcomed with smooth narrow roads with banked corners – a motorcycle riders' dream! Initially I had to duck and weave through a traffic jam caused by a minor landslide and avoid a small bushfire

but then it was smooth sailing as I wound through, first, pine plantations, then dry jagged hills with villages of whitewashed houses which gave a distinctive Islamic feel.

Karnprayag to Rishikesh, 175km.
Again the roads were great and the human traffic was interesting with dozens of pilgrims, in their bright orange robes, heading towards the Ganga river in Rishikesh where they will plunge into the dirty waters in the name of their religion.

While the whole scene didn't really appeal to me, I couldn't argue with a 100 Rupee room and dinner at “Mamma's place” where any takers just sit themselves around the outside table and Mamma brings out communal food bowls from which you can serve yourself as much rice, roti, curry and daal as you please.

Rishikesh to Rohru, 301km.
What a day! It seems like each new day the scenery gets more spectacular. Having poured over my maps and guidebook yesterday trying to work out where I want to go over the next couple of weeks I concluded that Leh, in Ladakh, is a must see so I will try to get there as quick as possible, then I will meander my way back south, taking in the scenery as I go, to meet Torb at that little white building with the pointy roof in Agra.

By the powers of the India Lonely Planet and the IMS India Road Atlas combined, I have usually been provided with a route from any town A to any town B all across India. But in the case of linking up the states of Uttarakand and Himachal Pradesh I have been let down, with neither map showing a clear road north of Mussoorie and on into Himachal Pradesh, but I followed my traveler's instinct which said that it must be possible, and headed out into the wilderness.

Kilometer after kilometer of being the only vehicle on the road, occasionally interrupted by a bus or jeep hurtling towards me around a blind corner just as I had let my guard down. The area that I rode through today, from Mussoorie to Rohru, via Purola, was one of the most beautiful of the trip so far. Surely jagged hills will get tiresome at some stage? Not yet though, and the fast flowing blue waters of the rivers that the road followed added that special touch of magic.

Also today I saw what I assume was nomads! Mum, Dad and children with their rucksacks and fully loaded donkeys, heading off into the hills.

When I arrived in Rohru and went looking for internet I discovered that the cyber cafe was closed, but a couple of guys who saw me make my discovery offered me the use of the computer in their mobile phone shop to check my email, at no cost. Very kind. It's people like that who leave you with a good impression of a country... actually, it is like a whole different country up here! Perhaps I should fly out of Rohru rather than Delhi, so I am left with a good taste in my mouth :)

Rohru to Bilaspur, 225km. Bilaspur to Mcleod Ganj, 160km.
Next day saw me do my 10000th kilometer, which I'd been looking forward to because I thought I'd be somewhere spectacular, but it turned out to be just another kilometer. Coming towards Dharamsala it is true that the Himalayas appear like a giant wall reaching to the sky which, I guess, they are. It's just that it is unusual to be able to see from the plains right up to the mountain tops without first climbing to the middle hills. Dharamsala is known as the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan people in exile – 'celebrating' 50 years in Himachal Pradesh.

Just 4km north of Dharamsala is Mcleod Ganj which I decided is like Thamel (the tourist centre of Kathmandu) on a hill. As is often the case, when I turned up I thought I might stay a few days but then the next day I was off again – never liking to stay still.

Mcleod Ganj to Chamba, 173km.
I can't really remember this day, but I have a feeling it was my Forrest Gump day. There is a point in the movie where Forrest decides to run. He runs across the country and people start following him, then one day he just stops, turns around, and says to the people something like “I'm going home now”. That is how I felt this day. Time to just stop riding. If only the people would stop following me!

Chamba to Chatragalai, 153km. *Most beautiful scenery so far!!
This was one of the highlights of the trip so far because of the scenery, which is out of this world, and the experiences.

Lonely Planet shows no road from Chamba into Jammu and Kashmir, but the IMS map shows a road so I headed north hoping to come into J&K the back way. I headed towards Saluni, a small town perched atop a ridge with Himalayan views, and continued towards Bhandal where I was taken in by the police and told that “After 30km there is no road. After 20km there is no permission. Terrorist activity”.

I have a terrible hatred of backtracking, but going back 37km in the direction from which I had come was OK this time around because of the scenery. But it was only after I had reached Kehri that things got really special.

Every few kilometers I would just be blown away again by the beauty of it all.

A couple of shallow river crossings were easy enough but then I came to one where I got the front wheel in before realising that it was probably a bit deep and fast flowing to go straight through without checking it out first.

I had a rough time just pushing the bike back up the bank to somewhere level so I could put it on the center stand. With the sun very obviously making it's way to the horizon and the next town about 45km (at least 2 hours riding) away I started to get a bit of nervous excitement that I may be stuck and might have to sleep in one of the mud huts that were scattered throughout the land. Which sounded exciting except that I had no food on me.

Anyway, I had to rid myself of my pants so that I could wade through the water to scout the route. As soon as I stepped in I realised that it was cold. Badly! Which I soon found out was because I was just below a snow melt. Initially I thought that I would trust myself to get through with the luggage still on but I changed my mind after testing the depth of the water and the...looseness of the rocks underfoot. So I whipped the luggage off, left my thongs behind and made a go of it. All ended well, though my feet took some warming!

Just around the corner I was waved down by some nomads.

I had been hoping that I would meet some and get to sleep with them for the night, so I pulled over and they asked me up to their campfire for chai. A few of them were sick – one with permanent cold temperature and headaches, one with a wound from an axe/sickle in his leg, an old man with really swollen and hard stomach, and a little girl with a headache (as far as I could work out in my infant Hindi). So with my extensive medical knowledge I pulled out the first aid kit and prescribed ibuprofen for everyone and antiseptic cream for the man with the axe wound.

Sitting and drinking goat milk tea with these people who travel for half (?) the year with their herds to find fertile land and camp by the side of the path was something that I didn't want to ever finish. They made me some plain roti/bread and I sat until it was very close to dark. One of the old ladies asked me if I wanted to stay but the men cut in and said I should stay at the military checkpost just a few kilometers up the road. I think they felt that their standard was not good enough for me. I wanted to accept and sleep with them, but the thought of sleeping in the military camp was also exciting.

So I wound my way up to the ridge where the camp was (Chatragalai) and asked if I could stay.

They were happy to oblige, put together a bunk bed for me to sleep on and gave me a sleeping bag and dinner. Dinner was with the leftenant in his room beside the fire and I tried to pummel him with questions about his little team and how the operated, without making it look like I was into international espionage :)

In the morning they all came out to say goodbye

or perhaps just for their morning drills, but I'll claim it was for goodbye.

Chatragalai to Srinagar, 295km
Srinagar to Jammu, 307km
A few days that I would rather forget. Dangerous drivers on the roads, lying/cheating touts and shopkeepers, expensive hotels, and my first accident – after 11050km on the road. I was rather proud of my clean slate on the accident front, but I'm going to have to take the blame for this one as I misjudged an intersection and found myself swerving wildly to miss another bike. Thankfully he stayed upright and apart from a few minor grazes on my limbs and a broken headlight, my pride was the only thing damaged.

Oh yeah, and I was absent minded enough to forget to put the cap back on after filling up with oil in the morning. The result being oil splattered everywhere and the need for an improvised patch job - which turned out to be a permanent market stuck inside three fingers of a glove that I chopped up. I spent some time considering considering whether it was time to give up..

Jammu to Amritsar, 210km
Amritsar – what a nightmare to get around! But the Golden Temple was an interesting sight, and I always love a good chocolate lava cake from Dominos!