So our strategy once again was to get up as early as possible in order to take advantage of the relatively cool morning temperatures. And it was a good thing we did because the weather proved almost as fierce as the drivers with midday temperatures reaching 40 degrees.

In what has become typical fashion of late we covered many kilometers and ended up crossing the border into Nepal only 2 days after we left Manali. But almost as soon as we exited India a new adventure was upon us, a country wide strike called for by the Maoists. And the rule of thumb for strikes in Nepal is no traffic allowed between towns or cities.

The first time we heard anything about this strike was just a few kilometers into the country when we approached a long line of vehicles on the side of the road with engines off. So we did as we always do and made our way to the front of the line to see what was holding everybody back. That’s when we saw the tree trunk blocking the road. But this was not your typical redwood type tree. No sir. This particular tree trunk was no more than 3 inches wide and could easily have been moved out of the way by a determined 5 year old. What was really stopping people from driving past (or over) this roadblock was the determined crowd of people mulling about making sure nobody got through.

After visiting over 30 countries on this trip and being subject to illegal police searches, stopped at military roadblocks and almost getting caught up in a demonstration we have learned how to behave in unusual situations. Basically, we pretend that this kind of thing happens to us all the time even if the opposite is true. So when we realized what was going on we simply took off our helmets and shut down the engine.

“You are not allowed to pass” said a young man in the crowd in passable English.

“But why?” I asked him.

No answer. Humm. Not a good sign. Not good at all.

That is when Marie-France saw the women near the tree trunk milling about along with a lone young man. So she went up to him and asked how long it would be before we could pass. He seemed to indicate that the roadblock would be lifted at 12:00, which could have meant at noon, just minutes away, or (gulp!) at midnight.

By this time a nice crowd of about 50 people surrounded the motorcycle, more curious than anything else but some of them did not seem to appreciate our presence. I started getting worried.

And as quickly as the whole thing began it was over when an older man, previously unseen by us, told us that we could go with no explanation given. This caused some fuss among some of the younger guys in the crowd, but in Nepal age and the wisdom that comes with it still counts for something and we were off a few seconds later.

For the rest of the day this scene was repeated, albeit with slight variations, no less than 30 times on a 500 kilometer journey. It must have been around the 10th time when we finally understood that we were in the heart of Maoist country and they were the ones who ordered the strike. But it seems that tourists where strictly off limits and should be allowed to pass without hindrance. And since tourists in the western part of Nepal are a rarity we had the roads of the western half of the country almost to ourselves all day.

The following morning we were in Pokhara, the second biggest city in Nepal and a nice place to relax for a few days. Here is our hotel...

We then spent a day visiting Bandipur with its typical architecture...

A little walk around Bandipur...

And a view of the village...

And spent our last few days in the country in Kathmandu. The polluted capital still has a few remnants of what it once was…

There was only one thing left for us to do which was to send the motorcycle by air to Bangkok (it is not possible to cross Burma with a motorcycle). So after a couple of days of running around our bike was finally in a box…

Then screened by customs…

And eventually arrived in Thailand (photos in next entry).

Brian

Our last entry skipped ahead to when we were on our way out of India but we feel we may have left out a bit too much about our time in Ladakh. For example, the roads were not only challenging, at times they were almost impassable. Here is a picture taken by Jolijn of Marie and I trying to cross a bad stretch...

Hard to believe that just 24 hours later we were witness to this...

And this...

All of which lead us to Leh where we spent a few days and which we used as a base to explore the village of Lamayaru...

And the monastery that dominates town life...

But this little sidetrip was not without a bit of adventure. On a particularly challenging river crossing (OK, maybe it was just a puddle but still, it was a real deep puddle!) Sander managed to drown his bike due to extreme bad luck...

But within a few hours the bike was as good as new and we were once again on our way. 

Before we close this chapter of our time in India there is one last thing. Just north of Leh is the highest motorable pass in the world at about 5600 meters which we did as a day trip. This was the highest the bike had ever been (or will be for that matter) and we are happy to say it performed admirably despite the lack of oxygen.

Brian

When traveling by motorcycle in this part of the world you need to be ready for anything the road throws at you. Dodging potholes becomes second nature. Cows crossing a busy highway? No problem. Chickens intent on getting intimate with your front wheel? Been there, done that. But leopards? Well, that is something you just do not expect to come darting out in front of you. But that is exactly what happened a few days ago just outside of Dehra Dun in the north of India. As has been our habit recently we left our hotel at the crack of dawn to avoid the intense heat that was to come later in the day. About one hour into the ride we were rolling along on a fairly busy road when we both simultaneously spotted what I though at first was either a very large dog or a very small cow crossing the road in front of us. Not really caring what it was I proceeded to apply both brakes fairly hard in the hopes of avoiding an accident. Somewhere during this braking maneuver my brain registered what I was looking at (now just a few feet in front of us). It was a leopard crossing the road at a brisk pace. We were stunned! A leopard! We still can’t believe it. “Incredible India” is the Tourism Board slogan and it sure was that morning. Simply incredible.

Brian

We had first heard about this road about 6 months ago and thought to ourselves; humm, that sounds nice. Lets do it when we get there.

But “nice” doesn’t really cover it for Ladakh. Something like “wow” would be more like it. Some examples:

“Wow, did you see how deep that river is? A bridge to get across would have been nice” or how about “wow, who would have thought that driving on ice could be so…stimulating” or maybe even “wow, I might need to change my underwear after that last passing maneuver with only inches to spare between us and that 200 foot sheer drop into oblivion”.

For the uninitiated, let me explain the route. Basically, you ride about 475 kilometers on roads of varying quality over 4 passes the lowest of which is at 4000 meters and the highest at 5300 meters. And if you are really a sucker for punishment (like us) you can even attempt the highest motorable pass in the world, just a few kilometers past Leh at 5600 meters.

For this leg of our trip we hooked up with Sander and Jolijn whom we had corresponded with some weeks before. Turns out they are a great couple and we ended up having a great time together. Jolijn usually rides a Yamaha but due to mechanical issues she opted to leave it behind in Manali and put her life in the hands of Sander. I know for a fact that Sander posted an embarrassing picture of our motorcycle taking a well deserved “rest” at the top of the first pass on their website and I also know he will be reading this text so let me state for all the world to know (well, maybe not all the world but our 5 or 6 regular readers at least) that there was an incident involving sand and a certain BMW motorcycle (not ours). Suffice to say that the motorcycle in question somehow ended up with sand in the handlebars. We would have taken a picture but the dust storm generated by the fall would have camouflaged the identity of the victims.

But in all seriousness, Marie and I fell a total of 3 times on this ride. The first fall was perhaps the most embarrassing when I accidently backed into a snow bank at the top of the first pass. The second occurred on an icy stretch of road and the third was on a hairpin turn when we leaned into the curve a bit too much. When we weren’t busy falling, Jolijn wasn’t busy taking pictures of our motorcycle lying down and Sander wasn’t busy helping us lift up the damn thing we were witness to some great scenery. But words cannot do justice so here are a select few pictures of this ride.

Early morning departure and we are nearing the top of the first pass...

Top of the first pass...

I promised Sander I would post this on our website. The most spectacular piss ever...

The roads were not always the best...

But the views were great...

A river crossing on the second day...

Our motorcycle resting after a difficult pass...

Just because they are cute...

We lost the road (but found it a short while later) on the 3rd day of riding...

Typical scenery...

That is only a fraction of the photos we have. For more, click on "photos" on the menu bar.

Brian

Somewhere between Multan and Lahore the escort vehicles gave up on us and we were allowed to proceed at our own pace which meant we made good time. Lahore is considered by most Pakistanis as being the cultural capital of the country. It comes across as being far more organized and cleaner than the rest of the country, something that was a welcome change. It did not take too long to find our hotel despite the camouflage exterior (the name is on the far right of the pic, right above the doorway)…

We spent a total of 4 days in Lahore, the highlight of which was waking up at 7:00am to the sound of gunshots right outside our hotel. Also staying at the hotel were Simon and Fred, both of which opted to leave the country that day due to the uncertain origin of the rather abrupt wake-up (Dave and Chris had already passed through Lahore on their way north several days previously). One the one hand we were told that it was a settling of accounts only to be told a short time later that it could have been a celebration. Either way, it was too late for us to leave Lahore so we ended up spending an uncertain night in the same hotel. The following morning we made our way to India, or more specifically to Amritsar. This city is home to the most important religious temple of the Sikh religion, the Golden Temple…

We took advantage of a nice hotel room in the city to rest up a few days and then we were off to McLoed Ganj, the home of the Tibetan government in exile (and yes, we saw the Dalai Lama as he drove by with his considerably large entourage. I would like to say that we had a chat together but it seems he is a very busy guy and the memory of his glance in our general direction will have to suffice). We spent a total of 2 weeks in McLoed Ganj just relaxing and dare we say it, watching TV in our hotel room. We also met Detchen and Shadow, a Tibetan couple whom we got along very well with. Detchen spent 20 years living in Montreal and owns a coffee shop in the village so when we weren’t watching TV we were enjoying some of the best coffee in India.
From McLoed Ganj we made our way to Manali, the start of one of the most spectacular roads in the world. Internet in India has been hit and miss so far (hence the delays in updating the site) but rest assured we took plenty of photos of our ride along the Manali to Leh “highway”. Here is what much of it looks like, something to hold you until the next update…

Brian

Ok, we haven't written on a long time and there is a reason for this: no internet or very slow connexion in the Ladakh region... We will give you more news soon!

Marie

Our day would be much the same as the previous one with an important exception, it was my birthday. Yup, I was going to spend my 40th birthday driving along deserted roads in Pakistan’s Balochistan province. Here are a few pictures…

After another long day of driving on difficult roads in temperatures which often exceeded 40 degrees Celsius we finally arrived in Quetta, exhausted but happy to have reached our destination without incident and without having picked-up any escorts along the way. As for celebrating my birthday we ended up going to bed ridiculously early.
The following morning we woke before sunrise and our entire group left Quetta together right before sunrise. There was Simon and Fred on their bikes, Dave and Chris in their car and us on our trusty bike. Here is Quetta…

Within an hour we entered the Bolan Pass, the scene of ethnic violence just one week earlier…

After nearly 1000 kilometers in the country without receiving  a single escort our luck was about to change as soon as we exited the pass. We had already seen pictures of these escort vehicles and their occupants but meeting up with the first team left an impression, especially after spotting their guns. Here is the first team…

This was the first of many escorts we would receive. Although occasionally fast and efficient, most of the time they tended towards a lack of organization during handoffs from one team to the other while at other times they were downright dangerous and incompetent. The routine was fairly regular with one team escorting us anywhere between 20 and 50 kilometers until the next checkpoint where our passports would be checked and we would be handed off to another team.

Sometimes these teams would be particularly slow and we would do our best to push them to go faster by trying to evade them in heavy traffic. This would work a bit but most of the time we would lose them only to be flagged down at the next checkpoint and be given cold stares and angry words by the next team in line. On a few occasions we simply rode past these checkpoints causing even more frustration for the teams. Now if all of these evasive maneuvers on our part sound like we were being unreasonable and arrogant it must be said that the mere presence of the escort vehicles was putting us at risk. This is mainly because it was drawing attention to us but also because their driving would sometimes be erratic and dangerous (not to mention ridiculously slow at times). Add to this mix the fact that temperatures reached 45 degrees Celsius and you have a strong argument for doing what we did.

Fortunately we had Chris and Dave in their air-conditioned Subaru who both kept a close eye on our behavior which, they later told us, had become increasingly erratic due to the intense heat and dehydration. Once we arrived in Sukkur, our goal for the day, they ordered me to sit in their car so that I might cool down.

The following morning the circus that was the escort situation continued when we had to wait while our escort vehicle had to be push started. Frustrated, we simply rode off without them. But our escort free days were not over as about 100 kilometers later we received another team, this time an anti-terrorism unit complete with bandannas and M-16 rifles. These guys did not hesitate to make their presence felt and one incident in particular left a strong impression on us, but not in a good way. As we rolled into Multan a bus inadvertently cut off the path of the lead escort vehicle (there was one in front of us and one behind us). One of the police came out of the lead vehicle, casually walked up to the bus drive rand proceeded to punch him first in the face then in chest. And this, in front of a large crowd and a bus full of people.

Only one hurdle remained before putting an end to a rather horrible day, finding a room. Despite looking deserted the first place we went to (still under heavy police escort) claimed they had no room for us. The second place we went to told us point blank that our presence would put the hotel at risk of a terrorist attack and refused to give us a room. But the third attempt was a charm and we were allowed to stay. However, three of the police officers spent the night in the lobby “for our protection”. Here was the view from our room…

Our time in Pakistan was almost over and the following morning we left for Lahore, our last stop before entering India.

Brian

How to describe the PTDC hotel in Taftan? First off, PTDC is short for Pakistan Tourism Development Corporation, an outfit dedicated to advancing tourism in Pakistan. But what passes for a shining example of what a tourist hotel in Pakistan should be would more likely than not result in hefty fines in Canada. This place was so disgustingly dirty you would have needed to burn it to the ground in order to properly disinfect it. In fact, it was so dirty even the staff slept outside...

Being located right next to a large parking lot did not help matters but the trucks sure were nice...

It was in Taftan that our little convoy finally took form for the first (and almost the last) time. There was Simon on his BMW, Fred on his moto Guzzi, Dave and Chris in their Subaru and, of course, Marie-France and I. Traveling in a convoy was our collective strategy for minimizing the risk of kidnapping or violence during the crossing of Pakistan. But when you take 6 strong willed and independent people and put them in a group there is always a risk that it will not stay cohesive very long. There we were, each wanting to do things our own way while still enjoying the benefits of traveling with others. Things did not look good for the future of our little group.

Given the intense heat of the previous day we decided to leave bright and early at 7 am in order to take advantage of cooler morning temperatures. In the end, the desire for independence proved too much for Simon and Fred and they chose to leave a couple of hours later. Here are Chris and Dave...

Fortunately for Marie-France and I, Dave and Chris had room in the back of their car for our large red bag. This reduced the weight of the bike considerably, something we strive for constantly in order to reduce the burden of bad roads on our poor little bike. Our objective for the day was the town of Dalbandin, about 250 kilometers from Taftan. We had seen the day before just how frustrating escorts could be and were keen on avoiding them in the future if at all possible. Things started off well when we arrived at the first roadblock just outside of town and realized that we would not be receiving any escorts for this leg of the trip. The rest of the day we were treated to some nice roads, very basic petrol stations and some interesting encounters. Here are a few pics...

Brian

We succeeded in finding a modest room in a not so modest hotel…

With impressive views from up top…

It was in Yazd that we took our final decision to cross Pakistan. Up until that point we were not 100 percent sure we would make the crossing but still we decided to inch closer and closer to the border. We took this decision after much internet research, the point of which was to determine exactly which regions of Pakistan were unsafe. Our conclusion: it would not be possible for us to avoid the hotspots but things had quieted down compared to a week before when a general strike lead to over 20 deaths.

In addition to spending lots of time on the internet we also did some minor modifications on the motorcycle by installing metal quick disconnects to allow for the easy removal of the fuel tank…

After 4 days of rest and research we left Yazd and headed to Bam, the site of a massive earthquake in 2003 that killed 40 000 of the 120 000 inhabitants. Half way to Bam we hooked up with Simon on his BMW and we all decided to make a little detour to visit the village of Rayen and the fortress that can be found there. Here are a few pictures…

In Bam we met with Fred who had arrived a day earlier on his moto Guzzi. Our little convoy was almost ready. Only Dave and Chris, 2 Australian brothers on their way home from England in their Subaru were missing from the group. But soon after our arrival they gave us a call to tell us that they were already ahead of us in the city of Zahedan, just 85 kilometers from the border. We arranged to all meet up “on the other side” in the town of Taftan in Pakistan. In addition to relaxing we took advantage of our time in Bam to do some maintenance on the bikes...

The following morning, with our tanks and containers full of fuel and our stomachs full of butterflies we left for the Pakistani border, still 400 kilometers further. From the start, we received a police escort, our first of the trip but far from our last.

Before going any further with our story we need to explain a few things about the security situation in this part of the world. Conflicts are common and the number of players are numerous so this may seem a little complicate. First, Baluchistan. This region is home to a distinct group who have long desired and often fought for independence. What complicates matters is that the region is mainly in Pakistan but also in Iran. Baluchistan is also home to drug smugglers who in the past have not hesitated to kill people who get in their way. In addition, there is a strong Taliban presence that is intent on imposing a harsh version of sharia law as a means to control the local population and increase their power and hence their wealth. Throw into the mix a bit of Al Qaeda and you have a potentially dangerous area.

With those little clarifications over, let’s get back to our story. The escort from Bam to the border was in fact a half dozen well armed escorts that made a half hearted effort at relaying from one team to another. In the city of Zahedan alone we were handed off no less than 3 times. Even a simple task like filling up became unnecessarily complicated…

About 6 hours into this we all started getting frustrated with the slow pace and our first (but not our last) attempt at loosing the escorts occurred. They quickly caught on to the purpose of the rapid accelerations in heavy traffic and soon we were asked to surrender our passports. Needless to say, from that point on we followed the lead vehicle slowly. 

To add to the frustration of having to follow a truck full of guys with guns was the heat which reached the high thirties. Little did we know that in the next few days we would experience 45 degree temperatures…in the shade! After 8 hours of this we finally arrived at the border and despite arriving after the Pakistani side officially closed we were processed by the friendly officials who even offered us tea. It was a nice introduction to Pakistan. Then we saw our hotel… But more on that later.

Brian

But to be fair, we already knew that the worse thing that could happen is that we would receive an escort to the nearest secondary road (we were right on that point). And that is why we tempted faith despite seeing this all along the Tabriz to Tehran highway…

Our arrival in Tehran marked the next step in our quest to capture a very elusive and rare species. We had heard that this creature could be spotted and maybe even captured in Turkey but those reports proved wrong. We even called some experts and in order to speed up the hunt. But in the end we were told that the only place we could find success was either in our home country or in Iran. We speak of course of the Pakistani visa. This most rare and shy being that more often than not dwells only in the imagination of tourists hoping to go overland from Europe to India. And thus began the final chapter of piecing together all of the paperwork needed to complete this classic overland route.  

Fortunately Tehran, despite the intense pollution and traffic is actually not that bad a place. So in between visits to the Canadian embassy for a letter of introduction and the Pakistani embassy for the application for visas, we spent some time doing the tourist thing. Here are just a few pictures…

After about a week in the city we finally obtained our visas and headed south to Esfahan, probably the nicest city in Iran. We had been very impressed with Esfahan the first time we visited Iran in 2000 and once again it did not disappoint…

While in Esfahan we met 2 other bikers by chance, Simon from Germany and Fred from Belgium. Like us, they were just a couple of weeks away from crossing Pakistan and also like us they were concerned about security in that country. So we arranged to cross Pakistan together and decided to meet up further down the road a week later. Here they are, Simon on the left and Fred on the right…

Big cities being what they are, big, we decided to head for a small desert village we had heard about called Toudeshk. Apparently there was a fellow by the name of Mohammad Jalali who took in the occasional tourist. When we finally rolled into town after a brief ride we stopped to ask directions with the first person we saw. It turned out to be Mohammad’s brother! (like I said, it was a small village!). He immediately took us to his mudbrick house…

In addition to showing us around town...

Stay tuned for part 3 of our time in Iran!

Brian