By pure co-incidence Andrew and I sat right next to a couple of cyclists at breakfast whilst we were in Delhi - at the Hotel Ajay, and I couldn't help but listen into their conversation. When my curiosity was ready to burst I interjected with the inevitable '..so where have you been', 'Well I've actually ridden from Singapore, and I'm making my way back to England, said one of them quite modestly', 'oh, that's funny!' I replied, 'we're hoping to meet a guy doing the same route, we've been speaking to him on email!'.......'you're not Richard and Andrew' he asked tentatively, the coincidence seeming too unlikely to be real. It was Cass Gilbert - who is the solo cyclist making his way back to England. His 'Long Ride Home has reached just over its halfway point and we begin to rabble at high speed, there seems so much that we must talk about...and so little time before we must each head off in opposite directions around the globe. We find the time to share much of the information about our forthcoming and already completed journeys, and both Cass, and Andrew and I are really happy to glean vital hints and suggestions on how to tackle the stretches ahead that for differing reasons present us with huge challenges.

Andrew and I spend time sightseeing, and a fair period relaxing, readying ourselves for the final push up and into Nepal - where we shall be resting - approximately halfway in our overland portion of the expedition. I become deeply engrossed in the Kipling Classic 'Kim', which is perfectly timed. The descriptions of Lahore, the Punjab, The Grand Trunk Road, and The Himalayas are timeless, and amazingly as accurate now as they were over a hundred years ago. His understanding of the peoples, religions, and the mindset of the Subcontinent is bewildering, but also quite useful to us, and as we once again head out into the countryside I find myself looking at my surroundings and our jostling, waving temporary friends by the roadside in a different light. We wind our way around the Old City Walls of Delhi in the mid morning of the ...th February, and we are unsurprisingly surrounded by another heaving mess of traffic. The road takes us over the Yamuna River, and we look down into the putrid, disease and chemical laden waters. Black blotches spoil the water, and it is clear to see that there is no life whatsoever here. On the banks however, the local inhabitants of the shanties have no choice, their blue plastic shelters held up with tree branches are piled on top of another, and the bank is crowded with people washing, preparing food, and dhobi wallahs thrashing their clothes in seemingly vain effort to remove the dirt that is all around. On the bridge we are hemmed in by a cacophony of crazy vehicles, the noise is tremendous...and our eyes struggle to believe what we are seeing. The bridge is double stacked and a dual carriageway, we see pedal rickshaws squeezing 3 abreast, being nearly run down by overbearing speed obsessed lorry and bus drivers, and we see men risking their lives crossing from one carriageway to another, jumping the chasm that separates the 2 directions - a drop of 40 feet would see them plunge into the deadly waters of the Yamuna. Further out from Delhi and the traffic compresses into complete carnage, a toll on the road brings everything to an almost total halt. But not content to queue, the traffic tries to squeeze down the sides, up the pavements, along the central reservation, on the opposite side of the road, any which way but stop! Amongst this frenzy Andrew takes a knock from one side and careers off into another car, a careless Rickshaw Waller has pulled directly across him and forced evasive action. Fortunately somehow he escapes serious injury, just bruises and scratches - but quite shaken and rather annoyed with the traffic.

We only make 70km on our first day out of Delhi, the influence of the metropolis has slowed us, but we finally feel that the air is clearing, and in Harpur we find a cheap hotel with good food. We also discover yet another rack failure - our 4th to date, but at least we know exactly how to fix it and there are plenty of helping hands to assist the repair (and even more to get in the way!).

The next day, despite continuing with our rhythm of late morning starts, we reach Rampur, and we are set to leave the yellow way marked National Highway 24 behind. We pull on to the smaller, local green marked road, and we immediately begin to feel more relaxed. Following previous comments about India’s economic progress, we pass through very simple rural communities, no more advanced than those we had seen in Pakistan, but we feel the trees and nature drawing us in once again, the countryside is coming back to life. As we approach the Nepal India border at Banbassa, we feel as if we are riding into the Jungle book. The road is littered with wild monkeys, we begin counting but after 50 we give up, family packs of around 20 at a time sit curious by the road side, hoping for titbits from passing traffic. We pause in wonderment at our wild friends, and as we reach inside our panniers for our cameras, the monkeys draw ever closer.....getting to within a metre, but we don't dare get closer; we've seen to many movies about monkey diseases! The border at Banbassa is a real strong memory for me, as last time I passed this way I was almost refused entry into India (another story - my visa had been washed out following river crossings resulting in dunking my passport). This time we have no problems, and we enter Nepal to find friendly faces and traditional Nepali caps on men with bandy Nepalese legs - wearing short trousers. The Nepalese border officials give us a nasty shock when they ask for payment in American dollars for our entry visa, but gladly they back down and we also get a fair rate for our Indian Rupees - this is the first time we haven't been ripped off at a border crossing since Turkey!! The road inside Nepal is fantastic. The Mahendra Highway, named after the father of Nepal's reigning monarch, has been under construction for many years, and has involved the cooperation of many international aid packages - but we are fortunate to find a smooth tarmac road. Better still is the absence of road traffic. Nepal is a very poor country, and the lack of industry, and a poor population results in the main traffic on the east to west artery being bicycles, rickshaws, ox drawn cart, and herds of goats. This makes for a wonderful relief after the battering that our eardrums have been receiving since we reached the bustling plains in Pakistan.

Our first night on the Terai (the flat plain that we have entered here in Western Nepal), brings us to the crossroad town of Attaria. We find several small guest houses, each plenty comfortable enough for us, and great value at just two pounds for a room for two. Just as we are going out for food we are greeted with a white face peering out of the early evening gloom. Quite unexpectedly we have been caught up by another cyclist from Hong Kong - Rob, who has been chasing us from Delhi. He joins us for dinner and we swap stories, and indulge in two and a half cool sharp Tuborg Beers - Nepal's favourite beer allegedly! We laugh especially at our host who after working like a dog in the early part of the evening, tucks into a half bottle of Kukuri Rum later, and finds that his legs refuse to work after a short time. He does have long enough to shout his name at us repeatedly and tell us that 'My town is Attaria, my district is Terai, and my country is Nepal!'. We too find our legs are not working quite as normal, but the lightheadedness, and the slight tingling in our leg muscles feels good as we fall into a deep sleep. We cycle with Rob from here along, and our new team member gives us an added impetus. We charge along enjoying the good road, and the fantastic surroundings. I am particularly looking forward to Chisopani - where the great Karnali River descends from the Himalayas on to the Indian Plains. The huge gorge that the river cuts is a special place, and the river is clean and pure - unlike the last few rivers that we have encountered. We eat fried fish and fried potatoes here in the shadow of the Valley - a proper meal - very tasty! The food I should explain has taken a marked turn for the better over the border with a growing number of stalls able to make up 'Chow - Chow' - 2 minute noodles with veg and eggs - and when carefully directed, it is quite possible to avoid chillies and masala powder - 'Merch Na, and Mossalla
Na' an indispensable phrase!

Shortly after the huge Japanese bridge that spans the Karnali, we enter Bardia National Park - and here we really are bombarded with wildness! Within just a few short kilometres we have heard worrying rustling from the bushes and we have ticked off Spotted Deer, Peacock, Kingfishers, Rhesus Monkeys, and Black Faced Lagur Monkeys from our I Spy books. Gladly though even in our bumpy ride down the dirt track to the main Park Resort, Thakurdwara, we see no Rhino, Elephant, Tiger or Leopard, but the adrenaline still races, as the sun slips down over the horizon. Thakurdwara is a most tranquil spot, and we find simple but comfortable accommodation and a peace and quiet that is pure luxury. As we all three settle in for the night a cotton wool quietness envelops our ears. It's so quiet we can feel it on our ear drums - we sleep wonderfully.