We had spent the night at an unassuming small guest house in an equally unassuming small town on the Nepalese Terrai, the like of which we encountered with great regularity over the hundreds of miles along which our road passed. What stood out about this particular spot, however was a fantastic haircut and shave lasting over an hour for the princely sum of 30 pence and the smaller than usual beds in our lodgings. For people of a more conventional stature i.e. less than six feet, the presence of 'bed ends' is normally not an issue. Indeed a previous landlord and friend of mine will cringe at the memory of the day on which he came into my room, drawn by the sound of hammering and woodworking, to be confronted by the sight of me completing the sawing of the end off one of his beds in the quest for a comfortable nights sleep! Not a problem for a Nepalese of average height which is indicated by the fact that a cold tap acting as a shower in most instances is placed approximately 4 feet off the ground causing an ungainly amount of stooping and twisting for the 6 foot 5 cyclist whose inconvenience in cleansing oneself is only matched by attempting to lie on their miniature beds. On this occasion, the bikes had the luxury of being perched upon our supposed resting places whilst Richard and I slept on the floor, valuing the importance of being able to stretch out as opposed to adopting the rather hunched and doubled up position that we assumed on our bicycles for the majority of each day.

After an uneventful nights sleep under the mosquito nets and having ridden west to the next sizable town some 60 - 70 miles further along the road, we stopped outside a relatively smart hotel and sat down outside with a nice cold drink to unwind after the days exertions. After barely five minutes a local bus pulled up and a young man alighted clutching a small package. He asked whether we had stayed at the afore mentioned guesthouse the night before to which, rather baffled, we replied in the affirmative. He then passed me the bag which contained all my vital belongings stating that, "I think this is yours!' It so happened that during my rummaging in and out of pannier bags, my invaluable documents had fallen down the side of the bed without my even realising! Absolutely stunned I pressed on him several hundred rupees and thanked him a thousand times for his delivery and his kindness to which he gave a shrug and a smile and hopped back onto his bus after the briefest of delays never to be seen again. On exiting the hotel after a stiff cold shower and still only having partially recovered from the shock of what I had just experienced, we were leaving to eat our fill and celebrate my good fortune at one of the local stalls when amongst the dust on the floor sat a bundle of notes more than equating the sum given to the bringer of my passport. This served only to further fuel my appetite and hysteria in a truly bizarre day of lost and found!

It gets worse in part two