My Nepal - Royal Bardia National Park

I sweat through my shirt. My trousers clung to my body. Beads of perspiration dripped down my face. The sun was unrelenting, beating down on us as we navigated the cracked dirt roads. The wind seized to exist. This was Nepal, and I was loving every minute of it. While most head south to Chitwan, we headed west, far west to the lesser known, though equally as stunning, Royal Bardia National Park. These are our photos, this is our journey.

Three women stand proud and amused on a watchtower

A young boy jumps out of the midday heat

Tending the fields

Village life

Local guide, shows us tiger country

Without a map, or a guide, we left the main road and ventured far beyond the guesthouses, electricity and telephone wires, hoping to discover something. Anything. This is Nepal, we knew we wouldn't be disappointed. We stumbled upon this.

A village of 30. No running water, no electricity, miles and hours away from anything.

+45 heat and wearing a balaclava? The locals check us out

When a tragedy has occurred, villagers will close their doors and adorn it with branches. I'm not sure what happened to this family.

A local villager, though no English was spoken, they were initially shy or weary of us

After some laughter, bad pantomime and a village tour, they warmed up to us

Richard and Betsy - our 350cc Royal Enfield, leaving beautiful Bardia National Park.

-Tossed Sallard-

The Road to Royal Bardia National Park, Nepal – a tale of two bikers

We swerved from left to right, and back again at 60km/hr, eventually coming to a heart thumping and startling stop in the middle of nowhere, Nepal. How we managed to stay upright on our 350cc Royal Enfield as the back tyre blew is beyond me.

The first attempt to repair the tyre failed. Miserably. And so did the second. Richard hitched a ride to the next town, 20 miles ahead, while I baked in the relentless midday sun. I was prepared to wait. It had already been a long day.

The journey had begun in the idyllic town of Hetauda, struggling to find petrol for our bike. In a nation with constant fuel shortages, it is always difficult to find fuel, but today was even more so – petrol pumps in the entire region were on strike, with no end in site. Locals were reluctant to sell what tiny amounts they had. However, little by little we siphoned our way to a full tank, and an empty wallet.

There was just one long road to our destination and we were in the middle of it. Our goal was to reach Royal Bardia National Park, 370 kilometres away, by nightfall. With our visas fast approaching expiry we were in a hurry to explore one last place before we ventured into Northern India. So far today our prospects had looked slim.

Hours later, Richard appeared like a mirage, soaked to the skin and clutching the necessary tools. Job done. We were on our way. Five hours, three roadblocks, two sanity checks, and one dhal break later we arrived. Finally.

-Tossed Sallard-

Next week, exploring the back roads of Royal Bardia National Park

My Varanasi - a photo essay

45 hours later I staggered off the train into the +45 degree heat. I was sweaty, ill and felt like half the woman I was before I started this journey. I was in Varanasi and I felt like death. The next week was a blur, surviving in a hazy existence. Electricity was intermittent at best, relief from the oppressive heat sought, but never found. A diet of yoghourt and rice persisted. A week of my own pain and suffering. These, though, are my photos of wonderful Varanasi.

A woman washes by the ghats

Young men swim playfully in the River Ganges

A traveling man rests by the ghats

A Sadhu cooks his supper

A man and his mango

Street life in Varanasi

Manikarnika Ghat, the main burning ghat and view from my balcony.

Man on pilgrimage, ghats of Varanasi

Man and his boat. He lives, sleeps, eats, and will probably die with his boat. Early morning on the River Ganges.

Man and his daughter, making yoghourt

Ghat life on the River Ganges

View from afar, the River Ganges and Varanasi

Funeral

A family picnic

Ruler of the streets, Cow in Varanasi

Man vs Bull

A hidden street

-Tossed Sallard-