Royal Nepal Adventure

Moments before cresting an unnamed Nepalese hilltop, my Royal Enfield Himalayan and I were gasping for oxygen in the high elevation, both motorcycle and rider sluggish from a touch of altitude sickness. We were also determined to stay on the gas, to be the first to the top and soak in the view before the others arrived, to see another view of a sky that can’t decide whether to rain or snow, the scene beautiful and mournful in the same moment. A featureless crowned mesa at 15,000 feet on the Tibetan plateau, nestled in a barren basin ringed with the snowcapped peaks of the Himalayas. This is a place I never imagined existed.

All I could hear was my own attempts to catch my breath and the distinct ticking sound of the Royal Enfield as the motor tried to cool itself. Miles below, at the other end of a serpentine tract that would suddenly disappear in the mist and reappear just as suddenly, lies the ancient Forbidden Kingdom of Lo Manthang.

Each year, except when briefly interrupted by the pandemic, a team at Royal Enfield has organized and supported a handful of rides across India and Nepal. These rides visit many stunning locations, presenting many challenges for the machine-mounted human along the way. The biomes of the destination options are wide-ranging: Desert, mountains, low heavy heat or frigid high cold, pick your poison.

At a price of just $1,900, the Himalayan Adventure Mustang is an incredible bargain—so incredible, in fact, that I diligently confirmed the numbers with each and every member of the Royal Enfield team. And the price of the tour to Lo Manthang includes just about everything a rider might need: rental of the motorcycle, hotel accommodations, breakfast and dinner, luggage support, and bike maintenance and repair as and when needed. After airfare, the expenses required of each rider are lunch and fuel, easily covered with a few Nepalese rupees per day. It’s the kind of bargain motorcycle tour that can only be produced in India, and Royal Enfield is uniquely positioned, both geographically and philosophically, to produce it.

That said, the adventure of a lifetime requires no small effort from the adventurer. I’ve already come literally halfway around the world, from the Republic of California to the city of Kathmandu, arriving in Nepal’s capital exhausted from sleep deprivation after two full days of air travel with not a minute spent in a proper bed. Then, during our first riders’ meeting just before dinner, tour leader and Royal Enfield Rides trail boss Santhosh Vijay Kumar informs our group that there had been a problem days before our arrival at the border.

It seems Nepali customs agents were a bit uptight when the transport truck attempted to cross from India into Nepal with a payload of some 30-odd Royal Enfield motorcycles in the trailer. International borders can be tricky like that. The motorcycles have not arrived here in Kathmandu, and will not arrive. This was not too much of a burden, we were told, easily solved by just a few hours’ ride to Siddharthnagar…in a tourist bus. Our motorcycle tour would now begin there. It’s no great inconvenience. No one complains. We are adventure motorcyclists, after all.

So this intrepid international band of brothers packed into two small buses like packages in an Amazon delivery van. We bounced along the dirty, impossibly crowded streets of Kathmandu, the Doorway to the Himalayas, criss-crossing the mountain passes of the Middle Hills. From the rear seat of the van I saw more than a dozen heads swaying side to side and up and down as the van careened down heavily potholed roads. Between the heads bobbing, the music playing in my headphones, and jet lag, I imagine the crowd at a heavy metal concert.

This first morning arrives in Siddharthnagar and I’m introduced to my machine. It’s a silver Royal Enfield Himalayan equipped with crashbars and well-worn Ceat Gripp XL dual sport tires. Adventure motorcycles existed long before RE introduced the Himalayan as a new model in 2016, and the Hima is nostalgic, classically styled, and vintage inspired. With 411cc of engine displacement and 21.81 hp, this ADV from India will not be doing anything in a hurry. And that’s perfect. Not being in a hurry in Nepal is a good thing. During the eight-day journey it will become apparent the Himalayan’s motor and suspension are well paired. The mixture of tarmac, dusty roads, and mud suits the Enfield well.

Because of the delay at the border it is necessary we reposition ourselves from Siddharthnagar to Pokhara. Pokhara, an adventurer’s outpost, is a popular lakeside tourist town overloaded with foreign visitors seeking all sorts of experiences. It’s also the original planned starting point of this tour and the last Western-style accommodations we’d see for a while. From here until we return to Pokhara we will be sleeping in basic lodges known as Tibetan-style tea houses, a popular form of housing for trekkers and now motorcyclists throughout the region.

Riding at the foot of the Himalayas we experience the unforgettable sight of the world’s most majestic mountains rising to the sky. As we ride back and forth over the foothills, snaking along rivers and creeks, Nepal offers up incredible views of rich green terraced landscape, misty hilltops, and more than the occasional motorcycle graveyard. In this part of the world two-wheelers rule the road to the tune of more than 2.5 million units, and abandoned bikes are picked clean of any useful parts.

The isolated land on the Tibetan Plateau that’s our ultimate destination lies within the Last Forbidden Kingdom, a region officially known as Upper Mustang. In the shadow of the Himalayas sits the ancient walled-in city of Lo Manthang, settled in 1380 and off-limits to foreigners until 1992. Even today, only a limited number of tourists are allowed to enter by permit only. It’s just about as remote as remote gets.

Like rugged single-cylinder magic carpets, our machines will take us to magical places huddled in the shadow of great mountains, through Pokhara, Lo Manthang, Samar Village, Marpha, Tatopani, and finally back to Pokhara. Over the course of eight days we would experience each place in turn while coming to know the six elements of adventure biking: long days, dust, heat, rain, cold, and snow.

The ride from Pokhara promises to be hot and humid. We are advised to be ready for an early departure, but after a leisurely breakfast, we’re reminded that large groups and strict start times are at odds; wrangling a group of 30 motorcyclists is akin to herding cats, so we roll into the Nepali heat well after the recommended hour. Navigating Siddharthnagar’s busy city traffic through a spicy aromatic blend of burning oil and overheated brakes is comparable to defending against an angry swarm of bees. Cars and motorcycles buzz about on all sides, and just to raise the degree of difficulty, Nepalese traffic drives mostly—there’s always a chance of a rogue operator—on the left side of the road. It’s a chorus of slow-moving diesel trucks and small-displacement motorcycles roaring, accompanied by a choir of constantly honking horns.

And the first few miles are at least as exciting as they are deafening. I’d no more settled into the bike to begin the process of acclimating to the low-level benevolent chaos going on around me when a scooter-mounted Nepali woman in flowing white robes with two small children as passengers darted out into traffic directly in front of me. She seemed to appear from nowhere, showing not even the slightest hint of a concern about what might be to her left or right. All I can do to keep our machines from colliding into a bloody mess is to lock up the rear wheel until smoke trails off the tire. As it is, I somehow avoided ruining the day for all involved; unfazed, the woman calmly continued across traffic without a care, apparently free from concern over what nearly came to be. On a positive note, I’d proved that the brakes work.

Twisting through the hot and humid lower valley elevations as the day drew on, we were treated to miles of paved road, dusty trails, and the occasional monkey sighting. The way was dotted with lovely villages, strung with brightly colored laundry, populated by barefooted kids and stray dogs, punctuated by outdoor restaurants. The sight was comfortable and homey, but also served as a reminder of how much of the world lives. We were lucky; friendly, gracious people with smiling faces were everywhere. Each Nepalese we encountered was impossibly polite, usually greeting us by performing a slight bow of the head, hands brought together with a soft, courteous Namaste.

The people may have been alike in their humbling good manners, but the road was a different story. And when the quality of the road changes, it changes dramatically. Getting to Lo Manthang means riding a long, winding road that mostly follows the Kali Gandaki River. Over millions of years the waterway, known as the Black River for the dark coloration imparted by suspended clay particles, has carved what is often called the deepest gorge in the world, and the road follows along.

If it sounds majestic and scenic, well, by rights it should be. But what began as a busy two-lane main road quickly degraded into lumpy dirt with dust and diesel exhaust partially obscuring boulders and holes big enough to swallow a Mahindra. Narrow sections became bottlenecks as buses and dump trucks tried to occupy the same piece of road. It may not be anarchy, but there were no rules we could figure; from what I could gather, the driver most feverishly honking the horn has the right of way. Of course, this means every honking driver assumes they alone have earned that right of way. This scene repeats itself over and over again endless times per day.

In the high elevation, the 411cc Himalayan would struggle at times, and rider and machine both suffered in some of the highest passes, which reached 14,000 feet. Still, the Royal Enfield is about the quickest machine on these backroads. Then came the rain, and along with it the mud. All that everyday dust makes a deep, delicious mud that loves to reach out, grab the front wheel, and wrench it to the ground. Worse, it loves deflecting the wheel off cliffs and overhangs, down into the river below.

The challenges of each day were rewarded with a plate of momos, steamed dumplings filled with buffalo meat, and a cold refreshing Gorkha beer, named for the fiercely proud Nepali soldiers.

The return route from the walled city Lo Manthang was a quiet mirror of the ride up. I was finally feeling somewhat at ease, relaxed in the saddle of my motorcycle and comfortable with the terrain. This made it too tempting not to take in the incredible scenery as I rode. Maybe a bit too tempting; with my eyes gazing up at the brilliance of my surroundings instead of down the road, I drove the front wheel straight into a deep hole. The wheel popped violently out of the pit with such fury that my hand flew off the grip. Things got exciting; unable to control or even recapture the handlebar, I careened off the road into a steep downhill ravine. No sooner had I serenely accepted my fate when I realized I had also miraculously managed not to crash, so I grumpily and painfully found my way back to the road.

As I retraced the route back to Pokhara, I studied the uniqueness of Upper Mustang with a few days’ more perspective (and with a little more caution). I saw, as traveling motorcyclists often do, contrasts much like the one I presented by riding a modern bike on ancient roads. Young mothers, their babies swathed in the latest child-care backpacks, carted baskets from one side of the village courtyard to the other. Women washed laundry in creeks while engaged in conversation on a smartphone. And our final night in Lo Manthang would coincide with the dedication of the city’s new solar-powered outdoor lighting, the first night ever that its age-old streets and alleys would be lit by electric light.

It’s a place where tradition doesn’t so much collide with progress as blend with it, embracing it in happy coexistence. For that reason as much as any other, it’s truly the spiritual birthplace of the Royal Enfield Himalayan.