Don't mind if I Kathmandu

I was invited to be on the jury of the Kathmandu Mountain Film Festival which would require me spending a few December days watching mountain themed documentaries and action films before coming to a decision and awarding the prizes. Now that’s what I call jury service. Don’t mind if I do. Time pressures meant that there wouldn’t be the opportunity to venture far from Kathmandu before returning home for Christmas festivities, however a quick online search made it apparent that there is no need to head off to Pokhara or Mustang to get some great riding. No sir. All the evidence pointed to some gnarly two wheeled fun to be had for a couple of days around Nepal’s capital city, along with some interesting feeding holes to fuel the rides.

Having never visited Nepal before, but well versed in Himalayan adventures through the writings of numerous mountaineers, I was intrigued as to what I’d see as I flew in to Tribhuvan airport. Sadly it was a largely cloudy day when we started to descend, but the scale of the terrain was still evident through breaks in the weather. Vast valleys, huge rivers and snow on the greatest mountain range in the world. As for the airport, well it’s best described as rudimentary and I doubt it’s changed a great deal since it was opened in 1955. But that brings a certain charm as you wait in line to hand over cash for an entry visa.

I’d arranged to stay with a friend who was now living in the city and, although the airport is only 6 kilometres from the city centre and not much further to Ian’s place, I soon realised the reason for him driving a solidly built jeep style 4×4. Off road, on road, no road, road madness. Where urban driving in Nepal stops and stock car racing starts I’m really not sure. I guess with a city full of fatalists the drivers just assume what will be will be. Of course, I was hoping the stars would line up and provide me with some great riding.

With only a couple of days to play with it was imperative to ride with local knowledge and that came in the form of Kathmandu resident and Himalayan Singletrack Guru Santosh Rai

and his crew including Aayman Tamang and Sherpa Dawa (his father has climbed Everest 5 times so Dawa comes from good Sherpa stock). We met up in Thamel, now the busy tourism hub of Kathmandu, with visitors crammed amongst the narrow streets lined with shops selling trinkets, prayer flags, North Fake equipment and assorted souvenirs.

Meanwhile we load a fleet of Giants on to the shoulders of the minibus, and head south out of town weaving between the stock car racers and dodgem driving taxi drivers. Beep beep beep beeeeep. It’s not for the faint heated. Eventually we get out of the city through Patan and up into the hills, stopping briefly near Godawari for a morning chai – hot sweet milky tea from a street vendor, who also has assorted vodkas available for those requiring the ‘hair of the dog’. The morning mist had cleared resulting in a clear blue sky and fresh air.

Smash! The tranquility was broken. A driver had managed to collide with a scooter on the quiet rural road, these stock car racers take on all comers.

As a crowd gathered to discuss who should pay whom in compensation, we climbed back in the bus to head up what was now an extremely rocky road that wove its way uphill through lush woodlands towards 2765m and a hill top Military Barracks that guards a radio mast at Phulchowki. They drink a lot of tea in Nepal, and before the fun really started there was time for some ‘army tea’. The soldiers not only guarded the TV transmitter but also ran a tea room and viewing platform, from which you could look across the valley to the huge 7000m peaks of the Himalayas. They also had a table tennis table with a pile of machine guns on it, maybe to prevent any ping pong arguments about should the winner stay on?

Refreshed, fully loaded and thanks to to the uplift the ride started down the bone jarring track we’d driven up. It may have been a slow bumpy ride up avoiding the bigger rocks and pot holes in a 4×4, but when it came to descending on 2 wheels it was fast and furious. Embedded boulders, fist sized loose rocks and dust encouraged an all guns blazing start to the ride as we skittled down, drifting on the bends with just enough control to prevent heading off into the trees that dropped away steeply off the right hand side of the track. Aayman threw in bunny hops while Santosh and Dawa pushed out the rear wheel in a rally style cloud of dust.

On one of the bends a narrow track headed off into the foliage, time for some technical riding. Steep and narrow, over dust and roots with just enough room for bars without clipping the trees and shrubs, the track headed north west along the Tribeni Danda, a broad ridgeline with steep ravines dropping down to the valley floor. Roots, rock gardens and a set of steep steps marked the track out as one used by hikers, but as we were midweek and out of season all was quiet. Every now and again we’d come out into a clearing. In the far distance below a deep blue sky, the Himalayan peaks provided a back drop, but concentration was needed to keep upright and avoid a several hundred metre roll downwards through the bushes – gazing into the distance could wait.

A short cut was suggested that took us from singletrack to hike a bike, no track, bush whacking, if only we’d all got a kukri we could have cleared a new trail. Eventually we popped out into a large clearing the size of a football pitch, with a windsock marking it out as a the takeoff point for local paragliders, Santosh hucked a drop and heading down a steep dried mud path we dropped into the small village of Lakuri Bhanjhyang. Time for chai and food at a small hut.

Freshly fast fried buffalo and chilli was eaten with a cocktail stick and a side order of rice while soaking up the sun. Meanwhile three guys wandered past with an oil drum. cd player and an enormous speaker. Maybe there’s a rave scene in these parts? Refuelled we headed off along a grassy jeep track before more picking up section of narrow path amongst the trees and some tight twisty singletrack that lead on to a fast flow dusty lane lined with pine trees at full gas.

The warmth in a December afternoon sun added an ochre glow to the fine alluvial soil that thankfully was bone dry and hard packed. Swinging off the track and onto a trail through scrubby grass the view of the Kathmandu Valley opened out, and with the late afternoon sun getting lower in the the sky it was time to push on as we dropped down on narrow tracks just wide enough to pedal past vegetable plots and small holdings separated with simple fences. Every patch of land on the steep ground is utilised for crops, not bike trails.

A fast, rough road linked various hamlets as we nailed it downhill, passing various school buses that unloaded uniformed Nepalese kids, as a local elder heckled the bandits for dangerous riding. Ironic as he was probably a stock car racer. We swung onto the main road and by now it was rush hour.

Reflections on Kathmandu

We’d gazed at the biggest mountain range in the world, ridden fast gravel, flowy singletrack, roots, rocks and steps but in a perverse way the most memorable part of the day was rounding it off pitting myself against the Kathmandu commuter. Cars, buses, bikes, motorbikes, scooters, madness, horns, narrow gaps, chancers, loonies, dust, fumes. Adrenaline. A fine end to a brilliant day.

After a couple of days of jury duty at the cinema, where the stand out films were ‘Sunakali’ about a girls football team from a the remote Mugu regional of Nepal and a brilliant short called ‘Pewan’ about a Nepali boy who moved to Leeds, it was time for some more riding.

Alas the cobalt blue skies had given way to slate grey and drizzle in the air, however to get a sense of a place you have to sample it in all its guises so it was time for some Kathmandu Valley slither.

Heading north we rode out of Thamel along the valley floor through Bansbari past small farms and kids playing in the dirt, weaving our way through the scattered houses and between fields on narrow raised tracks with short steep climbs as we headed over the fast flowing Bishnumati Khola and on towards Tokha. The local temple steps provided some street furniture for two wheeled urban riding before adjourning to a tearoom for chai and to watch the world go by.

By now it was definitely raining, spray from the wet dirt road covering everything in a fine mud paste as we passed a police checkpoint, stopping briefly to put jackets on. Some fast descending on what is by all accounts a ‘road’ containing pot holes deep enough to drown you, brought about a hard left and stiff climb leading to a firm fast and flowing singletrack path through woodland where you could smell the greenery. A few kilometres later we popped out on to a road covered in light brown emulsion near Tinpiple before descending with mouths closed in a cloud of spray to a ‘truck stop’ at the aptly named Mudku Lhoka.

The great things about food stops that have trucks outside is that however disheveled they appear, and however lax the hygiene strikes you, one thing is for sure – the food is often second to none. With a Lunisolar Hindu calendar on the wall informing us it was December 2071 we sat in the dark under a tin roof supping sweet tea, while the owner deftly wielded a cleaver as he peeled ginger and diced vegetables. Before we knew it we were tucking into bean soup followed by a bowl of ginger, veg. and noodles topped with an egg. It hit the spot brilliantly. Santosh not only knows his trails but also the best cafe stops.

It’s never fun saddling up and rolling out from a food stop in the wet, but the rain had eased as we snaked our way down into the valley along a muddy and cratered road, being passed by a lorry belching black soot out from its exhaust. A glance down to the valley was the opposite with buildings painted in a variety of colours, almost resembling brick prayer flags. By the time we reached the valley floor and the outskirts of Kathmandu the rain had stopped and the skies began to brighten, with less traffic than the finale of the previous ride it was only the film of gloop on the road that added any spice to the roll through town.

Back in Thamel the bikes were hosed down, momo dumplings and tea ordered and a contented feeling all round after a great ‘winter’ ride that showed the contrasts available in the Kathmandu Valley.

So what was the verdict after a couple of rides in ‘the valley’? Superb is the answer, with a variety of trails and scenery. No doubt riding amongst the big hills is stunning, but to steal some riding close to a capital city on a variety of terrain with a multitude of technical challenges is not to be missed. And me, well I’m guilty. I turned up a day early at the airport and could have had another day’s riding. “Take him down”.