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
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