I arrived in Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, by bus last night. I decided to take the bus so I could see the capital without rushing and not have to backtrack on myself. My plan is to cycle the length of Nepal then drop down into India at the most western border crossing and go on to Delhi.

Nepal holds great intrigue for me because of the mountains and the geographical significance. So far, it seems like a relaxed place. There are a lot of facilities for tourists such as Internet cafes and craft, clothes, trekking and book shops. However, I am hoping to dig a little deeper beyond the surface of the tourist stuff.

Last night, after a long day’s ride, I was taking some photos of an amazing sky and I met two ladies, enrobed in orange shawls.

They spent a few minutes watching me getting different angles of the melting pot of colours that made up the sky. I noticed they were interested in speaking to me.

‘Where are you from’ in a fluent English, one of the ladies asked. We struck up a conversation. They were Hindu nuns who also volunteered as teachers. They ran a small, local school, which doubled up as an orphanage.

I slept in a police station last night and they gave me a fantastic meal of Roti, Aloo Gobi, Chappati, fried cauliflower and potato.

I’m on the search for breakfast after having a sugar high due to eating loads of Jelebi (gooey sweets) with the police. They had a little ceremony just before I left putting the flag up because it is India Republic Day.

I left shortly after and cycled towards Varanasi in thick fog which didn’t clear until 10:30am and caused havoc on the already very busy (human and mechanical traffic) roads. I witnessed numerous truck crashes!

Making decisions about where to travel when on the road should be a spontaneous decision but when you throw visa regulations and bureaucracy into the mix it’s not that simple.

I found out the hard way in Delhi with a self-imposed no-fly policy, a soon to expire Indian visa and out of options for an onward route.

My options were:

1. Nepal, Tibet, China. This was closed down because the Tibet border closed.
2. Pakistan, Central Asia. Waiting until May to cross KHH and a whole bunch of (fairly easy to get) visas.
3. Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Georgia. Going back the same way seems strangely sensible (in a lateral thinking ‘reversal’ kind of way) - e.g. more photos, filming, different routes, following up on my post-travel-pak-iran thoughts.

I was quite set on option 3 because I thought there was plenty more of discover. I wasn’t keen on option 2 because of the wait.

My route through India went from Amritsar, through Punjab to Bathinda, then Bikaner. Next was down to Nagour, Jodhpur, and Mt Abu. Following that was Gujarat to Amdavad, Surat, and down to Daman and then Bombay.

From Bombay, I left the bike and took the train with Fanny (my girlfriend from Georgia) to Goa. We continued on to Kannur in Kerala, Calicut, Sultan Bathery, the Muthanga Wildlife Santuary, Mysore, Hampi, Gokarna and back to Bombay.

I was in an Internet cafe this morning, feeling crappy and depressed. I woke up with a head full of heavy thoughts about my future travel plans and I was worried.

To make matters worse, I connected my hard disk to the computer and I spent a good hour wrangling with it to try and view files. On newer computers it seems to work fine, whereas on older ones it just throws a wobbly.

I was cycling through Bombay traffic about 15 minutes ago and suddenly snap, there goes my front derailleur cable frayed into a throng of discombobulated threads. It made me think of the gradual process of wear and weakening that eventually leads to the point of breakage.

The bike, somewhere down in my instincts has begun to take on a life of it’s own. When it breaks it reminds me that we all erode and age and causes me to confront my own human frailty and mortality.

I intended to get up again at 5 am this morning like I did yesterday. However, unfortunately today there was no mosquito to bite me and make me feel a bit strange and thus feel like getting up. Only my alarm clock which I was able to ignore twice. Eventually at 8 am I naturally woke up. I jumped out of my tent which is pitched inside the flat to dodge the mosquitoes.

I feel a bit like I haven’t been telling the full story through the blog. This is mainly because I’ve had to do everything from Internet cafes and time, expense and technical limitations (Internet connection) are a factor.

December involved a strategic decision to get off the main highway and spend some time exploring smaller villages and towns. Upon reaching the city of Bharoch I took a small road to find somewhere to camp. After pedalling through a banana plantation passing small farmsteads I realised I was next to a huge river. I propped up the bike and gazed in awe at the wide Nermada river and palm forest disappearing in the hazy distance.

That evening I had an impulsion to cycle until it got dark to see if I would still find somewhere to sleep without really planning or searching for it or I would eventually be forced to cycle all night. I wanted to push the process to its limit.

This is India, you can’t just camp anywhere. Every field was worked by someone from nearby villages. People seemed to lurk everywhere; stray kids with cricket bats, rabid dogs and religious wanderers behind every bush.