You get it now?When Royal Enfield invited me for their Himalayan Adventure Mustang, a flight from Pokhara to Lo, in the interest of being definitely truthful, I wasnt really enthusiastic about it.Because lets face it, all this off-road and technical riding doesnt set me salivating at the prospect of waging war with rocks and sand, debris and slush and elevation and rain. Arjay, with whom Ive had fantastic discussions under the Milky Way in Zanskar, Kartik with whom I ride to breakfast nearly every weekend, Santhosh with whom I raised a toast with a dram of 16-year-old Lagavulin in full view of Mount Everest in Rongbuk, and my good friend Siddharth, the most ardent Himalayan lover from Bhopal who also rode with me to the Everest Base Camp, Rongbuk, Tibet.It was this appealing selection of homies, the Himalaya and the Himalayan that had me accepting REs invite to ride to the Forbidden Kingdom of Lo.Wiped out after Pokhara to Kalopani ride.So it came to be that one cloudy afternoon I was sitting sipping Illy coffee in Kalopani, 125km away from Pokhara, with this bunch. My one ray of hope in this gloomy weather was that once we crossed Kagbeni, about 18 kilometres away, we d get in the rain shadow area and the weather would clear.The rains hounded us all the way from Kalopani to Kagbeni after which we rode into the rain shadow area.It was on this section in between Marpha and Kagbeni that fresh tarmac has actually been laid in parts, and on these, I could wrench open the throttle of the Himalayan and push it close to 100kph. The festival involved a lot of vibrant outfits, remarkable masks and stomping dance moves to the accompaniment of drums and those long brass Tibetan horns called dungchens whose noise has been described as the singing of elephants.It was a good three-day chill in Lo taking in all this friendly brouhaha, mingling with travelers, and delighting in momos, beef chilly fry and, finest of all, the beautiful coffee that Dicky, the barista, brewed at the Lotus House Café.Happy meals at Yac Donalds that serves delicious yak meat burgers.My ride back was simpler because we leisurely rode what we had actually covered in 2 days on the trip up, in four days. I completely enjoyed the trip back down to Pokhara stopping enroute at Yac Donalds at Kagbeni for scrumptious yak burgers.Acknowledging great weather condition, mountains and a capable bike.So it with as much of a victorious manner as Caeser riding into Rome after beating the barbarians of Germania that I rode into Pokhara.

Mustang in context of Nepal is in fact pronounced Moostaang, which itself is an anglicised variation of Manthang. Released On Oct 23, 2022 07:00:00 AMWhile many of my fellow riders grew in slushy terrain… I still needed to up my video game to play in the porridge.To be sincere, when I initially became aware of Mustang in relation with Nepal, Steve McQueen pertained to my mind. You know the train of idea … Bullitt, vehicle chase, Mustang! I have actually always prided myself that geography was one of my strong topics in secondary school and this was a rude awakening.A little bit of redemption was that when I initially became aware of it, it was pronounced wrong. You see Mustang in context of Nepal is in fact pronounced Moostaang, which itself is an anglicised variation of Manthang. Upper Mustang is a municipality in Nepal concealed away in the Northern Himalaya and in this town lies the ancient Forbidden Kingdom of Lo, the northern most of 5 districts in Upper Mustang and wedged in a valley simply 20km from the Tibetan border. Its tough to gain access to and the extreme journey to get to it has actually fuelled tradition considering that times of yore. Legends, superstitions and festivals have all been associated with this little walled city.Lo Manthang still has one foot strongly positioned in past shown in traditions and attire.Just to clarify classification, Lo is the city in the district of Manthang, and it is often uttered as Lo Manthang. You know how we frequently state Leh Ladakh for the city of Leh in the district of Ladakh? You get it now?When Royal Enfield welcomed me for their Himalayan Adventure Mustang, a ride from Pokhara to Lo, in the interest of being absolutely truthful, I wasnt extremely passionate about it.Because lets admit it, all this off-road and technical riding doesnt set me salivating at the possibility of waging war with rocks and debris, sand and slush and elevation and rain. Give me smooth tarmac, lofty snow-capped mountain views and blue skies rather, and my eyes will shine with excitement.So then why did I go? First of all its the Himalaya and, clichéd as it may sound, theyve been calling me since 1996 and every time I have addressed that call, it has never been spam! Even though I am an amateur on dirt and unsealed roads, the Himalayan makes me feel like a bit of an ace. I talk from previous experience on godawful surface in Nepal and Zanskar. Its comforting assurance and tractor like metered torque has constantly got me through unharmed and happily surprised– in hindsight– about my dexterity on dirt.Kartik & & Arjay chat about terrain and torque throughout a dhaba break at Kagbeni.And finally, I discovered that riding with me on this adventure would be some old rogues who are a riot. Arjay, with whom Ive had fantastic discussions under the Milky Way in Zanskar, Kartik with whom I ride to breakfast almost every weekend, Santhosh with whom I raised a toast with a dram of 16-year-old Lagavulin in full view of Mount Everest in Rongbuk, and my friend Siddharth, the most ardent Himalayan lover from Bhopal who also rode with me to the Everest Base Camp, Rongbuk, Tibet.It was this appealing assortment of homies, the Himalaya and the Himalayan that had me accepting REs invite to ride to the Forbidden Kingdom of Lo.Wiped out after Pokhara to Kalopani ride.So it became that a person cloudy afternoon I was sitting sipping Illy coffee in Kalopani, 125km far from Pokhara, with this bunch. My riding trousers were caked with dried mud and every muscle in my body ached.It had begun neat enough from Pokhara with six-lane satiny tarmac and a brilliant blue sky. The abovementioned tarmac only lasted about 65km, after which our path to Kalopani climbed up into the mountains on a road whose texture was more akin to hemp rope.”Here we go,” I said to myself as I splashed through the very first water crossing. I handled to browse abnormalities that the roadway tossed at me at routine intervals with relative ease and, may I say, a fair amount of grace. The one instance of ungainliness was at Beni.I had just crossed the bridge throughout the Kali Gandaki River and turned right on the opposite bank, and I rode straight into an area of slush that had the gooeyness of gruel.Keeping your feet dry is not an alternative thanks to countless water crossings.It got my front wheel with a persistence that went beyond the stopping power of the front disc and the next thing I understood is that the rear end swung out and forecasted me off the seat and plopped me susceptible into the porridge. After some clumsy exercises to stay up and stand up and complimentary myself from the gooey grimes grip, which was practically amorous, I endeavoured to take out my motorbike from the slush. The latter reluctantly let it go, making sounds like the burble and squeak of a Delhi stubborn belly. I climbed up onto it and brought on as the applause of the vicious content team who had actually been recording my anguish. They pray for moments like this to add range to their videos.Now at Kalopani, my pine green Himalayan stood like the blacksheep of the parking corral, caked with dried mud as we sat and switched motorcycling tales. Santhosh, whos been on this roadway in the past, was pointing at the dense cloudbank and asking us to imagine the Annapurna peak behind it, due to the fact that “it exists!” he said solemnly, echoing George Mallory.There are no fuel pumps beyond Beni and fuel has to be obtained from supermarket like this in Marpha.Word was that the roadway ahead is far better than what it utilized to be with large sections of tarmac already laid. The group produced a collective groan, dissatisfied that there would be that much less off-roading. I, on the other hand, sent heartfelt thanks to the paradises above for this deliverance.But sadly, the next day, the heavens put down on my piety since I awakened to rain. Within 10 minutes of beginning off, water was making inroads into the seat of my trousers. After two kilometres, I quit trying to prevent puddles in the pointless effort of attempting to keep my shoes dry because the entire road was pockmarked with pits that were little ponds of rain. My worry was that in the battle to swerve to prevent them I may wind up face down in among them. My Himalayans front wheel directed water straight to my legs when I hit a puddle. When he joyously sprinkled through a puddle, Ahead of me Kartiks Himalayans rear wheel sent cubits of water straight to my face. Thanks to all this, by the time we reached Marpha– 21 clicks away– I was soaked from head to toe. Here, Arjay, who was the sweep of the group, utilized his settlement abilities to secure gas for Nepali Rs 200 a litre from among the kirana stores that also offered gas in black. Tanks topped up, we soldiered on. My one ray of hope in this dismal weather condition was that when we crossed Kagbeni, about 18 kilometres away, we d get in the rain shadow location and the weather would clear.The rains pestered all of us the way from Kalopani to Kagbeni after which we rode into the rain shadow area.It was on this area between Marpha and Kagbeni that fresh tarmac has been laid in portions, and on these, I could wrench open the throttle of the Himalayan and press it close to 100kph. Even at an altitude of 9,000 feet above sea level, the BS6 Himalayan that I was riding didnt seem to pant and its acceleration was passionate. Rain had washed the tarmac of all dust and gunk and friction was on friendly terms with my motorbikes Ceat Gripp XL tyres, so I could lean it hard into corners.Beyond Kagbeni, the road ended up being such a joke that even Google Maps didnt acknowledge it. We were now in the rain shadow area, and though the rain had actually stopped, the roadway was godawful. I have no ignominy in stating that I had my work cut out in keeping the bike properly up. I was constantly providing virtual salutes to the other riders in the group who were gunning their Himalayans over that awful surface with skilled ease; never ever mind that we were riding along the worlds deepest canyon. The something I observed was that they were all basing on foot pegs while doing this. I did the same, and like magic, everything became far easier. I might shift weight on the foot pegs using them like rudder pedals to guide the bike a bit, and this made all the distinction in discovering the fairly best path.Horses still utilized as beasts of problem in this region.Kagbeni to Lo is vulnerable to landslides, and road structure is a massive job here due to the fact that this is a location of an ongoing geographic upheaval. It is here that millions of years ago the Indian subcontinent encountered the Tibetan plateau triggering a crumple zone that generated the Himalayan Range. The Indian plate continues to move north at the rate of 2cm every year causing the Himalaya to grow taller by 5mm annually.Riverbed rocks in Kagbeni often yield ammonites.In truth, the riverbed of the Kali Gandaki River– along with which we were riding– is older than the Himalaya. This is why when we picked up lunch and I went for a wander, I discovered a heart-shaped rock, which, when I cracked open, had the fossil of an ammonite curled up inside it. The dhaba owner solemnly informed me that these fossils were thought to be an avatar of Vishnu and it is unlucky to break them open. Aghast, I thought about the tough road that lay ahead and hastily put the rock together once again and covered a rubber band around it, all the time wishing for divine benevolence.It seemed to work since the roadway to the walled city of Lo was fraught with rocks and big sections of great sand called fesh-fesh, and over all this I managed to keep it neat without a single tumble. It was while battling gravity on a high slope through powdery sand, with my motorbike tilling through without a sputter, that I as soon as again admired how well the Himalayan fits the purpose of traversing through surface in the mountains that it has been called after.Performances throughout the Tiji Festival inside the city of Lo.This flight was timed such that we d remain in Lo Manthang for the Tiji Festival– a three-day event also called “the ridding of satanic forces”. The celebration involved a lot of colourful outfits, dramatic masks and stomping dance relocate to the accompaniment of drums and those long brass Tibetan horns called dungchens whose noise has actually been described as the singing of elephants.It was a good three-day chill in Lo taking in all this friendly brouhaha, joining travelers, and relishing momos, beef chilly fry and, best of all, the beautiful coffee that Dicky, the barista, brewed at the Lotus House Café.Happy meals at Yac Donalds that serves scrumptious yak meat burgers.My flight back was easier due to the fact that we leisurely rode what we had covered in two days on the ride up, in four days. My preferred stop here was the hamlet of Samar– a town with a clutch of clean and easy homestays, 35 kilometres from Lo.Samar is completely perched for cinemascope views of the Annapurna, so the sightings were amazing. The magnificent views elevated currently buoyant state of minds, and so out came the Bluetooth speakers, and Samar swayed that evening to whatever from Deep Purple to Daft Punk.Now I was more confident on the bike and could take in the spectacular views all around. Water crossings were dispatched with increasing confidence and I even handled controlled slides around corners on the terrain that had actually horrified me on the method up. So I completely took pleasure in the flight pull back to Pokhara stopping enroute at Yac Donalds at Kagbeni for delicious yak burgers.Acknowledging great weather condition, mountains and a capable bike.So it with as much of a triumphant demeanour as Caeser riding into Rome after defeating the barbarians of Germania that I rode into Pokhara. He had probably seemed like the king of the world and I, on the other hand, was content to seem like the king of dirt!Copyright (c) Autocar India. All rights scheduled.