I WAS IN POKHARA after a long trek in the Annapurna Range when I noticed a flier from a local business offering motorcycle lessons. I’d never been on a motorcycle in my life, but I’d always wanted to try it.
If you've never ridden 500 miles in one day, suggest you try it once before committing to do it every day for a week. First six days of our Nova Scotia trip last year: Day 1- 400+ miles, mostly slab Day 2- 450+ miles, mostly 2 lane road Day 3- 120 miles, 2 lane road Day 4- day trips adding up to about 100 miles. In really scenic areas, 150 miles may make a very full day. Don’t assume you can achieve freeway mileage on good back roads. You can plan out your route and find amazing places to stop by using the Buffalo Chip’s Rider Friendly Map. Invest in a packable motorcycle cover.
I signed up with Hearts & Tears Motorcycle Club and took two riding courses — beginner and advanced — then spent about a week riding in the mountains around Pokhara. I cannot recommend it enough — experiencing the country on a motorcycle was one of the biggest highlights of my trip.
However, riding in Nepal is probably very different than riding in your home country. Here’s what you need to know.
First, you’ll need a valid driver’s license. It doesn’t have to be an international license, or a motorcycle license; your regular one will do. Police checkpoints are somewhat common, and you’ll be fined if you don’t have one. Also, there will be big trouble if you’re involved in an accident without a license.
In addition, get travel insurance. Make sure it covers emergency medical evacuation, just in case. I’ve used World Nomads and am happy with their coverage.
You should also consider safety gear. High-quality gear, especially a safe helmet, is extremely difficult to find in Nepal, so if you plan to spend a lot of time riding, you may want to bring it from home. The company I took classes with provided a safe, well-fitting helmet and riding jacket, but I can’t say the same for the other outfits I rented bikes from.
In my opinion, there are two kinds of bikes in Nepal: the Royal Enfield, and everything else.
What kind you choose depends on what you want to do. If you’re just learning to ride, or if you only plan to ride around the town you’re visiting and venture out to a few surrounding villages, a small (100 to 180cc) Japanese bike will do. These are by far the most common — they’re reliable, gas efficient, and relatively inexpensive to rent or buy.
Photo: Author (All rights reserved)
If, on the other hand, you plan to do extended trips, motorcycle touring, or just want a real “Easy Rider” experience, the Royal Enfield is the way to go.
The Royal Enfield Bullet…these classic bikes are still built on a 1950s British design. In fact, Royal Enfield was originally a British company, but now all Enfields are manufactured by Royal Enfield of India. These workhorses come with either a 350 or 500cc engine, and riding one makes you feel like you stepped into a time machine.
Of course, they’re not the most reliable bikes in the world, and you’ll almost surely have something go wrong if you plan to spend a considerable amount of time on one. But just about every mechanic in Nepal (and India) can work on them, and parts and labor are ridiculously cheap.
1. You can bring a motorcycle from outside the country. I met quite a few people who brought one from India. It’s common to purchase a bike in India, then ride it up to Nepal, where it can be resold to someone wanting to make the return journey.
If you plan to do this, note that the largest engine allowed in Nepal is 650cc, the bike can only be in the country for up to three months, and you’ll need to pay a “road tax” fee upon entry — roughly US$75 per month for the time the bike will be in Nepal, paid upfront.
2. You can purchase a bike in Nepal. A motorcycle bought in Nepal is much more expensive than one bought in India due to the high import tax, but the big plus is that it can be legally registered in your name, meaning you can take it home if you want.
Check here for more information on buying bikes.
Photo: AnnieGreenSprings
3. But the easiest way is to simply rent one. Rental shops are common in tourist areas, such as Lakeside in Pokhara, but ask around for a reliable, trustworthy shop. Although my experience was been mostly positive, I heard stories from others who got charged a hefty fee for damage they didn’t cause.
Be sure to inspect the bike thoroughly with the person you’re renting from before agreeing to anything. I’d suggest bringing a camera along and taking pictures of the bike and any preexisting damage while the renter is standing there with you. Also note that you’ll need to leave your passport as deposit for the bike.
The cost varies greatly depending on the type of bike, and whether you rent or buy. When I was last in Pokhara — November, 2010 — renting a great condition Royal Enfield (damage insurance included) was in the neighborhood of US$60 per day.
If you plan to take an organized motorcycle tour, the price will be much higher. On the flip side, a “working” Honda or Yamaha was going for about 500 Nepalese rupees — about US$7 per day, after haggling. I’m not a good haggler, so you might get a better deal.
The best way to describe Nepalese traffic is “total chaos.”
The first portion of my training course took place in an open field, away from the hectic streets of Pokhara, but by the middle of the day it was time to get on the road and practice the skills I’d learned in some real traffic. I was nervous, even with the instructor’s reassurance.
As we neared the main street, the blazing car horns got louder and louder. When it was time to enter traffic, I had to focus on not stalling the bike, trying not to hit any of the people walking into the road, the numerous cows meandering about, chickens and dogs bolting from side alleys, and attempting to keep up with the steady flow of zigzagging taxis and delivery trucks.
Stop signs and traffic lights are nonexistent, and you quickly learn that the larger vehicle always has the right of way.
Some things you may encounter on the roads in Nepal (occasionally all at once):
On my first day riding alone, I went for an early morning cruise. High in the hills, I came around a tight hairpin turn and noticed rocks and debris in the road, and I slowed to avoid it. At that moment, I came far enough around the turn that the morning sun was directly in my eyes, and I could hardly see a thing.
Suddenly, I hit something, the handle bars jerked left, the bike was down, and I was doing a backwards somersault across the pavement. I stopped with a thunk as the back of my helmet made contact with the asphalt.
More surprised and confused than anything, I got to my feet to see what I hit — a thick steel cable spanning the road about a foot and a half off the ground. The previous day a truck had plummeted over the cliff, and the cable was being used to raise it from the gorge below. Luckily, I had been going slow enough that I wasn’t hurt, and the bike suffered only minor damage.
Photo: MikeBehnken
Despite this experience, I’d say motorcycling in Nepal is well worth it. While riding in the hills I often had views of the entire Annapurna range, and other times I was riding through thick jungle, where I could pull over and watch monkeys playing in the trees.
I also had plenty of occasions to stop in villages along the way to fill up on tea and fresh dal bhat and talk to the locals — always excited to see a foreigner, especially one who pulls up on a Royal Enfield.
When I left the world of writing about cars and bikes and tech in the back of a garage in my boxers, one thing was clear: commuting was happening. And if I was going to endure that soul-sucking drudgery again, I would do it on two wheels. So after 9,000 miles rain-or-shine, here’s what I think I have figured out.
First, some quick context: I started the new gig on the same day I moved into a new place. This wasn’t exactly optimal. To amplify matters, the job was in San Francisco and living in San Francisco was out because, well, fuck living in San Francisco. I found a dark, isolated place in the woods and holed up there instead.
Making the commute more palatable is 10 minutes of winding backroads and the 35 minutes on 280, described as the “World’s Most Beautiful Freeway” back in the ‘60s. Unfortunately, it’s still a freeway in America, just with better views, sweeping turns, and more Teslas.
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Two weeks of driving in and out of SF re-confirmed what I already knew: Riding would substantially improve my day. Unfortunately, the current bike wasn’t exactly up for commuter duty. A plan was hatched* and full-time moto-commuting began.
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The hour-plus blast north shrank to a predictable and enjoyable 45 minutes, and continues to be a highlight of every day. Eight months and 9,000 miles in –with a split of about 60-percent work commute and 40-percent “other”– what have I figured out?
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Let me count the ways. With ~30 liters I can fit: a complete, neck-to-heel Aerostich Roadcrafter; or a helmet, gloves, and assorted detritus; or go shopping without doing irreparable harm to my back.
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It’s also (mentally) narrower than two side cases, and while it looks dorky and buffeting gets weird at the right speed with the right crosswind, it’s been the best upgrade I’ve made.
I know it’s sacrilege around these parts, but I have found a personal – not technical – issue with the one-piece Roadcrafter. Getting in and out of it can be a drag when you just want to run across town and carrying it is an awkward, awful pain in the ass.
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Imagine going out on a date and checking a monkey suit with the Maître D’. That was life before a topcase. But it’s still not optimal for me. I’m thinking of getting a pair of Roadcrafter pants and wearing the leather jacket I prefer (at least during the dry months).
The single greatest item of motorcycle riding gear ever conceived is misunderstood, made to look…
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It gets chilly. I won’t say “cold” since I don’t want to hear the “you don’t know cold...” comments. That said, a neck gaiter or balaclava does wonders, mainly to plug up anywhere you’re body is exposed to wind under the chin bar. That breeze is the last thing between a nice ride and dripping snot into your mouth for half an hour.
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Yes, everyone says this. But what they don’t mention very often is flat-topped tires after miles of highway abuse. I like to think of it as a reminder to take more entertaining roads, but it’s also a good reminder to look for multi-compound tires that can handle the commute and rain, but also don’t suck in the turns.
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Granted, this varies from bike to bike and from owner to owner. I’m a stickler for keeping mechanical things in good shape and I was dumb enough to buy a Ducati. Still, the perishables go by quicker, are generally more expensive, and things you would do every 100,000 miles on a car you do every 10,000 miles on a bike.
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If you get something from Japan, it’s less, but the perishables are still a factor—assuming you’re riding like you should.
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I’ve lost count of the number of times my bike key fell out of the pocket of my riding pants. Thankfully, it’s primarily been at home or in familiar places, except for that one time where it was lying in the road for an hour while I was having a drink with friends. There’s a reason these are a cliché.
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Unless you’re seeing crazy shit every day or motovlogging or something, I just don’t see the value in spending a few hundred bucks on an action cam. There’s obviously merit in the idea of keeping a record – ask the Russians – but if you need (or just want) one, buy used. Otherwise use the cash for something fun.
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I realize this sounds obvious, but crouching down more than normal—say, tucked behind your windscreen in the rain—causes the legs on a riding suit to rise up ever-so-slight, allowing just enough water into the top of your boots to necessitate a sock change and a hair dryer*. No matter how amazingly waterproof or Goretexerized your boots are, make sure you’ve got a solid seal.
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I could write a lengthy list of the things I carry in my backpack because I wasn’t a Boy Scout and my parents didn’t let me explore. These are not those things. What I did start carrying when I began riding every day: an extra pair of socks (see above), a canister pump flat kit (already saved my ass), and a rag (because you always need another one).
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Confirmed. End of discussion.
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I spent eight years teaching people to drive. If there’s anything that trains you to anticipate behavior and boost situational awareness more, I hadn’t found it. Until I started riding. You know what the guy 8 car-lengths up is going to do before he does it.
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It’s beyond defensive. It’s what happens when you’ve got just enough adrenaline pumping through your system that your fight or flight response is on the cusp of kicking in.
The rain sucks and it’s best to avoid it for a myriad of reasons. But if you’re up for a challenge, it’s at worst educational and at best entertaining. Granted, it’s not for everyone and it certainly pegs my Risk/Reward Motorcycle Matrix™ askew, but every time I’ve done it I’ve learned something, and that’s more than most people do on their way to work.
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Damon Lavrinc is a veteran of Jalopnik, Autoblog, Wired and other places. These days he moto-commutes to his fancy tech job at Automatic.
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