I looked into staying at the Banana Lodge overlooking the lake and just beyond the glitz of the main strip. However, and as expected (Lonely Planet guide recommended), it was fully booked. Closer to the road but without the view of the lake was the ‘Quiet Place’ hostel. It looked ideal for a cyclist with individual rooms opening onto a small garden area. There was an Enfield motorbike parked in the middle and belonging to an English guy. He had bought it for a song from a friend and was travelling, almost permanently, around India and Nepal.
A room at the hostel was, at just under £3 a night, an absolute bargain. The owner lived with his wife, son and daughter in three of the rooms. He also ran a shop and Enfield motorcycle rental business in the commercial centre of Lake Side.
I was quite relieved to have found somewhere to stay so quickly. The camping ‘chowk’ had a great location but was not ideal. I had the only tent there and did not feel comfortable leaving it unattended for too long in such a busy place.
The hostel was better. Slightly off the beaten track and very close to the lake, It was a lot quieter than the main Lake Side area with its busy roads, hotels, shops, bars and restaurants.

Pokhara is Nepal’s second largest city and a major tourist destination. The idyllic location and proximity to the Annapurna mountain range make it a big magnet for trekkers and holidaymakers. Curiously it was only accessible by foot prior to the late 1960s. With good road and air links it now combines its position as a major trading centre with a playground for tourists enjoying the beautiful scenery and activity sports.
The Lake Side or tourist area is a sight to behold in itself. The shops deliver the kind of alternative ethnic hippy chic that caters for every aspiring counter culture aficionados. Whole food restaurants mingle with Ayurvedic massage centres. Hemp clothing shops rub shoulders with boutiques selling Tibetan singing bowls and prayer beads. There is jewellery galore and dozens of shops selling ethnic crafts of every kind. Something like Camden meets Glastonbury there is something for everybody. Adding in to this a surplus of trekking, sports and adventure shops; Pokhara Lake Side is highly developed to cater for tourism and leisure activities.

My fast decent into Pokhara was not without some cost. A rear brake pad had rubbed into the sidewall of the Schwalbe XR tyre. It had weakened and began to bulge with the tube pressure.

I popped a Park Tools tyre boot inside the tyre and applied some rubber cement to the outside. I do carry a slightly used Schwalbe Supreme folding tyre. If push comes to shove I could move the front XR to the rear wheel and pop the Supreme on the front. As another option I ordered a folding XR from Kingsway cycles in Cambridge and which could be posted out to me. The repair looked okay and although still bulging looks like it will not get any worse. Time will tell.

I took the bike along a route that scouts North West around the lake. The poor surface of the road was quite punishing and tested my tyre repair. It is not easy to go all around the lake. I was keen to see the northern shore which is mostly hidden from the city. it provides interesting views across the lake and has some restaurants and peaceful retreats. There is one large modern hotel for well heeled tourists.
The lake is undoubtedly beautiful. Paragliders circle above but the lake itself has not been spoilt by water sports and has a glassy appearance. On a hill to the South is a white domed ‘Peace’ stupa. Perched high above on the Northern side is the village of Sarangkot with its panoramic view and paragliding clubs.

From the central point of Lake Side and close to where I had camped, the main road heads East uphill towards the city centre. The road climbs past ‘The Bullet Basecamp’ where I could not resist having ‘chunky vegetable broth’and chatting with a few ex. pat regulars out front. I learnt that to get around visa stay restrictions some people have several passports. A little like juggling credit cards it is possible to do the same with passports. The owner of the cafe is an Aussie biker and spent a fair amount of time creating a relaxed bikers club complete with pool table. Hanging from the ceiling inside the cafe is an old Enfield Bullet motorbike that has seen better days. Nice place, cool people.

The road leads past several junctions before finally reaching the main crossroad and centre of the city. The Prithvi Highway (04) continues East towards Kathmandu. To the South is the airport and familiar road to Butwal.
The Northern route climbs a little through the main shopping centre and follows the Seti River towards the Annapurna range conservation area.

The ‘old’ town lies in the North Western area. Following the Simal Chaur road North from the second junction up from the Bullet Base takes one past beautiful shrine after shrine some of which are in the centre of the road. At the same time the wooden buildings alongside are decorated with intricate carvings and fine workmanship.
Ultimately the road leads to the Bindhyabasini Temple with commanding views in every direction. Bearing back towards the river is ‘Nature Park’ with a good view of the Annapurna mountain range. Together with local meat, fruit and vegetable stalls this area represented Pokhara ‘proper’ to me and a world away from the tourist drag along the lake. Most days in Pokhara I visited a place by one small temple on Ram Krishna Tole road for food and drink. They looked after me! Also the open vegetable markets and meat stands provided supplies for my own home made curries. My water buffalo curry was tough to eat..

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I left Tansen a little later than I would have liked as I did not know till mid morning that my room was no longer available. I was setting off into the growing heat of the day. Unperturbed I loaded up and took the recommended short cut down through the town until I hit highway No10. The route was a little more difficult than anticipated and had to work hard to wind up and down the hills.

It is approx. 80 miles between Tansen and Pokhara. I reached the relatively large and modern town of Walling and checked into a slightly tacky hotel; one of several on the approach into town. Walking through Walling I was amazed by the number of children and young adults everywhere. No doubt it will soon become a fair sized city. It already boasts of several long high streets crammed full of shops of every description.
Much to the disappointment of the hotel owners son I took my dinner (and breakfast) at a small cafe a few doors down. To be honest by the state of the hotel room and their toilet/washing facilities I think it might have been a big mistake to eat there. The cafe produced excellent food and went out of their way to source and cook some chicken for me. The owner looked like a short version of Leon Trotsky with a similar beard and round glasses.

After an omelette for breakfast I was back on the road and stopped mid morning at a Hindu shrine. It was up a little climb and set back into a rockface. Apparently a god had struck the rock with their staff and miraculously made water flow from the fissure. The devotee at the shrine looked quite wild with a huge bouffant hairdo and lots of face paint. He pointed to the miracle on a large poster. His humble assistant that had been busy within the shrine emerged and presented me with sugar sweets, dried figs and an apple. Once back down on the road I gave the apple to a schoolboy and had tea opposite the entrance to the shrine.

More climbs, one more stop for tea and then a final push up towards Pokhara. The region was marked by a large gateway. Down, down, down I rode dropping in to the south of the city and past a long queue of starving motorcyclists waiting for their petrol rations at a filling station.
Once past the ‘Damside’ of Lake Phewa I worked my way along the tourist strip to find the free camping ‘Chowk’ on the lakeside. I pitched my tent, cooked a meal and went to check out potential lodgings.

I should not have worried. The cycle ride along highway 10 was not too arduous. My fitness was good and I soon arrived at the valley beneath the hill station of Tansen or Palpa as it is better known. The journey itself was magnificent with amazing views of spectacular scenery. The final section of the ride was downhill and took my breath away. It seemed to last forever.

On the outskirts of Tansen I saw men bagging up vast amounts of fresh ginger. I was told it was destined for India. They welcomed me and gave me an inordinate amount of ginger! I gave some back and to a woman at my next tea stop.

Completing the climb to Tansen was quite an achievement. The town stands close to the the crest of a hill overlooking a valley with magnificent views all around. I took one short break for tea about half way otherwise I made it up in good time. Having conquered the hill I was as pleased as punch. I continued further up into the town looking for the fabled ‘homestay’ that travellers rave about. Seeking advice I was directed down what seemed like the steepest road I had ever seen. At the bottom a bookseller said I was heading in the wrong direction and pointed me back up the same steep road!
The town itself is a fair size and consists of lots of small roads and passageways. There are steps leading up and down everywhere. People of all ages appear to take it all in their stride.
The Palpa people are fit. No wonder their army almost conquered Kathmandu.
The homestay I wanted, which also doubles up as the local tourist information office, was fully booked. However Mo Mohan; the charismatic owner teamed me up with a German tourist (Anna) to share a triple room in another homestay nearby. The family were fine with me putting my bike on the first floor balcony and Anna was happy to have her rent halved.
The town boasts of several magnificent temples one of which was extended as a reward and celebration of the defeat of the British army. However this pales in comparison to the Amar Narayan Mandir which has a three tiered roof, is exquisitely carved and possesses some particularly graphic detailing on the lintels. This may possibly be the reason photography is forbidden. I discreetly stole a few shots.

 

The following day I was able to move into a room on the first floor of Mo Mohan’s oversubscribed Homestay.
It was ideal and I had my own little balcony. The hot shower was superb and the roof garden had fantastic views over the town, valley and of the surrounding mountain range. And it was really very cheap… I decided it was perfect and to stay as long as I could.

I set about walking the town. On the Shreenagar road was a small shrine with a fair crowd of people around it. It transpired that they were making preparations for a festival devoted to Shiva. There was a large cauldron of milk into which was being stirred various spices and ‘substances’. One was a small red fruit that supposedly had a psychoactive content. Another was a large bag of green dried cannabis. I was asked to help stir the ‘shiva cocktail’ and invited to the festival starting in the afternoon. The mixture was decanted into large urns and I was given a beakerful to try. My day then became increasingly interestingly as the potion was quite powerful. In effect I was as high as a very colourful kite!

Wandering the town I admired the Newari architecture, found even more temples and stopped to photograph some chickens. I returned to my room, contemplated the universe and set off to meet up with my festival buddies at the shrine. I heard about a Fair in the lower town which some tourists had visited the evening before. The only people at the Shiva shrine were the elderly organisers and who, apparently, had been drinking the festival potion all day. They gave me another cup of the magic medicine and told me that the big party would be happening in the evening.
I set off for the fun fair met some other tourists I knew on the way and told them of the later festivities.
By the time I arrived at the fair and paid the entrance fee I was feeling a little light headed. The event doubled up as a trade fair and people were funnelled past stall after stall before finally reaching the fun fair.

As dusk fell people lit bonfires in the streets and the glow transformed the town. The party at the shrine was in full swing with music and dancing. Crowds of fashionable youths gathered waiting for each urn of milk to be brought out and shared. The music flowed from the sound system above the shrine, a large fire raged and local people of all ages danced until late. As a party it was a great success by any measures. Once again it was a privilege and a pleasure to be a welcome guest in the local community. It was quite a day.

Apologies for the low light blurred pictures and which are fairly representative of my own slightly inebriated state.

I took an early morning walk to view the ‘white lake’. The mists create a veil over the valley and give the impression of a lake.

Anna phoned me and asked if I would like to accompany her on a ‘trek’ to visit a palace situated to the North of Tansen. Aside from my own exploratory walks this was to be the first recommended tourist ‘trek’ or walk. It was fun to have a companion and we enjoyed excellent views on the way. Anna, who was a qualified ski instructor, made a great guide and practically led the way according to the printed instructions that she had.

The Ranighat Durbar or palace was built in the late C19th in memory of a Nepali politicians wife. He was exiled for an abortive coup against the prime minister and the abandoned palace was soon stripped of its contents and stands empty in beautiful natural surroundings. The building itself has recently been renovated and is in a good condition.

Somewhat misdescribed as the Nepali ‘Taj Mahal’ the story behind the palace adds a little intrigue to the visit. Despite poor access links I feel it would make a wonderful retreat for meditation and yoga.
The return walk took a little more effort but provided good exercise and great views. I am grateful to Anna for an enjoyable days ‘trekking’.

Tansen is a great place to stay with very friendly people. It has a unique flavour of its own and as a tourist destination has, no doubt, a special place in the hearts of those that have visited. My own stay was cut short as I would have liked to stay longer. But my room had been booked and Mo gave me excellent advice with regards to the best route towards Pokhara. In some respects this did me a favour. I needed to keep moving, get my arse into gear on the bike and tackle the hills ahead.

The road climbed, twisted and turned. Every time I reached a substantial settlement I checked my map to see if I had reached Butwal. Finally one last turn close to the hillside and I rode downwards to the city of Butwal which stretched out to my right. My initial reaction was one of disappointment. It did not look very inviting.
Once over a high bridge I cycled downhill on a wide road past high-rise buildings and businesses until I found the bus station and the hotels nearby. I checked into a room at the Hotel Park Plaza which overlooked the bus station. It was, as seems to be the way, a bit grubby. It had not even been cleaned since the last occupants left. Once pointed out I was quickly provided with clean sheets.

Butwal is relatively modern having been extensively developed since the 1950’s when Nepal finally opened its borders. It is a staging post between India and the rest of Nepal.
I decided to stay several nights to rest and prepare for the next part of my journey. I also needed to recover from mosquito bites and a swollen left leg. I had fallen off my bike trying to avoid being speared by the wavering end of a long bamboo pole. It was being carried along the road ahead of me and I had to react quickly when it swung in my direction. In addition I had later slipped into a hole walking my bike by the roadside and banged my left shin causing a sizeable haematoma. My leg hurt and the mosquito bites on my face and arms were a nuisance. A few days staying at a hotel in Butwal was a good idea.
However the next day I walked my socks off exploring the city. It is divided up into three parts. A wide river cuts it into two. On one side is an industrial estate with basic housing on a dry rocky island. On the other is the markets, businesses, bus station and better residential suburbs. The third area, and one I discovered on my final day, is a small residential area to the North. I found this last place the most interesting as it was the oldest and had many well crafted wooden buildings.

I had some apprehension about my route north on Highway 10. It looks quite daunting on the map as it climbs towards Tansen and Pokhara. However I thought I would give it a go. I had breakfast at my local roadside restaurant, bought some provisions and set off on my fully loaded bike towards the pass to the North of Butwal.

Once in the Lumbini region I thought carefully about visiting Siddartha’s (Buddha) birth place at the town of Lumbini. It is now a well developed world heritage centre with a large garden built around the Ashoka pillar which designates Buddhas place of birth. I had already decided to continue East and past what I regarded as a tourist attraction.
However I came across a local road sign for Kapilvastu. Recent archeological work has revealed the ancient ruins there to be of King Śuddhodana’s (Siddartha’s father) palace. It is the area where Buddha lived until he was twenty nine and where he ventured out beyond the palace walls before deciding to tackle the world of suffering that he discovered. The temptation to view the land, ruins and museum was too great. I headed off along a rocky road through woodland South towards Kapilvastu with monkey troops for company. The area is quite swampy in parts and the open land is richly cultivated by local families.
Once past a small village I was presented with a wide river to cross. A major bridge was in the process of being built and jutted out from the opposite bank. Meanwhile
people had to wade across the river.
I made three crossings to carry all my gear and bicycle and helped an elderly man with his bike.
Shortly I arrived at the small village of Tilaurakot. I had milk tea (made by a grumpy woman) opposite the entrance to the museum. I only had half an hour to visit before it closed.

The museum is quite small but contains hundreds of artefacts including many coins and stone carvings. Outside is a garden of architectural finds and another open building with large stone exhibits. A short distance away through the village are the ruins of the old palace. They were impressive with the remains of long wide palace walls, buildings and large gatehouses.
By the entrance to the site I stopped to chat with several monks that lived nearby, one of whom was originally from Sri Lanka. He had a wonderful smile!

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Possibly the Kapilvastu site is less impressive than the modern development and garden at Lumbini but I felt glad to have visited and seen the countryside where Siddartha spent much of his life before travelling.
After the junction at Tilaurakot I headed North with a view to rejoining highway 01. With the light fading and nowhere to camp I kept cycling along a long road through treeless wetlands. Fortunately there was a small shrine, Ashok pillar and deserted building by a lake. There were several empty rooms so I bedded down for the night and became a meal for the mosquitos that lived by the lake.

The Ashok pillar at this shrine was, like the one at Lumbini, dedicated to a Buddha by King Ashok. However it is believed that it was for the birthplace of the Kanakmuni Buddha. If I had not reached the birthplace of one Buddha it appears that I unwittingly slept at the birthplace of another.

The next day was fun. I bought a litre of honey complete with dead bees for less than £2 and met a cycle mechanic. He showed me the wheels he built for cycle rickshaws.

Highway 01 runs the entire length of Nepal. The Terai is predominately flat and runs parallel to the Himalayan foothills. Since the 1990s the road has been upgraded and an extensive Nepal/India bridge building project has transformed the route. Previously it was a major trial to traverse Nepal along the Terai and areas would be isolated by floods and swollen rivers. It now provides an excellent road and surface for cycle touring. Malaria is still an issue during wet months. I cycled over countless new bridges and past huge wide dried up river beds.
The East West highway took me through the deep forests of the Royal Shukla Phatan wildlife park. Out in the open plains again I saw the surrounding hills loom large. Traditional Nepali houses consist of sticks and mud. They are very attractive although need fresh mud yearly to replace any worn away by weathering. I stopped for a milk tea served by a charming man, admired his perfect kitchen made from mud and bought samosas for my lunch.

There are plenty of opportunities to pitch a tent and spent my first night under ‘canvas’ in Nepal.
Where do people get the mud for the houses? Ask this tree!

Twenty two bridges and I reached the town of Chisapani the other side of which stretches the Bardia National Wildlife Park.

The Park is home to some of Nepal’s population of Tigers. I camped in it but stayed close to the road. I thought I might be eaten as I relieved myself in the middle of the night.

Once past the bridge at Bhalibang I found an excellent place to camp close to a river. With good supplies I would happily have stayed there for a while to go wild in the country. I found myself surrounded with beautiful plants, insects and exotic birds. A little slice of heaven!

Western Nepal is the poorest part of the country and essentially an agricultural area. The people like many I met in Sri Lanka are extraordinary and both kind and gentle. The area remains off the beaten track for foreign visitors and felt by cycling through that I was privileged to have met so many wonderful people.
At Chanai the road became transformed and after a long climb I was treated to an amazing downhill ride. Immediately afterwards I was on a thick forested area and camped the night before heading a little South and into more populated areas.

It was a short cycle ride past the Indian ‘foreigners’ immigration centre and over another small bridge. At an army checkpoint a Nepalese soldier shouted ‘welcome!’. I was then certain that I was in Nepal but no one had asked to see my passport. It was the most relaxed entry into a country I had ever experienced.
Overjoyed to reach Nepal I dashed the few miles in to reach Mahendranager.
I still had no Nepali visa and carefully looked for an immigration office or at least an important looking government building. I encountered a large crowd of men. One man was being held up and looked a bit floppy. He had overturned his cycle rickshaw and a bit bruised. It was quite a scene. They manhandled him into the passenger seat of a rickshaw and he was taken away presumably to a local clinic or hospital.
I cycled a little further and reached the main junction in the town where two policemen were beating some chap on the floor with their sticks. This did not seem to attract much attention from passers by. The guy was quite disheveled and appeared drunk.
Cycling down the main thoroughfare past the bus station I spotted a sign to
the Hotel Opera; one of the few places to stay and recommended by Lonely Planet as good value and the best place to stay.
I dropped into the NCell shop to sort out a new sim for my phone. The sticking point was my missing visa. It then transpired that I had missed the relevant building at the border. Easily done as there are no checks once past the Indian side. So somewhat laboriously I returned, found the small building and sat with a friendly chap who quickly processed my visa for 3 months. He took large denomination Indian notes and then offered to further exchange cash for Nepali currency. The rate was good and he provided a huge wad of very low denomination notes. I had a fistful of Nepali Rupees and which is quite bulky to stash. Useful though as few people seem to have change.
Back along the potholed road to the town and to NCell for my nano SIM card.
For that, and which is actually fairly straightforward, I had to provide passport, visa, photo, personal details, wife’s name, grandfathers name and fingerprints. The last two surprised me.

I checked into the Hotel Opera which is decidedly swish and they provided a fair quality room on the ground floor in a side annexe close to the road. Perfect for me and my bike.

Mahendranager is an active border town with a busy bus station and thriving shops. As the link between India and Nepal it appears quite prosperous. Amongst the multitude of shops I was struck by the number of places selling alcohol, spirits in particular, and the amount of bicycle shops. In Nepal the cycles are far more modern than in India with cables and gears.

I declined the hotels offer to use their casino the entrance to which was close to my own room. The hotel came to life when VIPs arrived to stay. They were accompanied by armed guards and soldiers that became posted around the grounds. I imagined that the guests were government officials and had quite an entourage. The next morning I was back on the road heading East on Highway no.1.

The next stop on my ride East placed me at Moradabad. I quickly found a simple room close to the main railway station on Budh Bazar Road. Cheap and clean; Hotel Pankaj was the perfect place for me to roll in with my bike.

I took a little time to walk around the city. It is known as the ‘city of brass’. I tried unsuccessfully to find brass items. Moradabad also boasts of being the greatest exporter of textiles. However I think much of this business is undertaken in large warehouses away from the public gaze. However it is a colourful city with a vibrant market and atmosphere.

Interestingly an area behind my hotel had a wonderful old house and the owner was very happy for to to photograph the grand entrance. Also the whole area in front was filled with cannabis. I had seen it growing in large amounts all along the highway. It is a common weed but surprised to see so much in the centre of a large city.

My search for the brass was fruitless. But almost opposite my hotel was a Royal Enfield mototcycle showroom. Proudly displayed outside was an early 80s example. I met the manager and enquired about the price. He told me that it was ‘not for sale’

The only disappointment with Moradabad was my evening meal. I had spotted an restaurant on the Rampur road with a tandoori clay oven. I missed the amazing food I had eaten in Delhi. Sadly the food was barely cooked and inedible. I left it almost untouched and despite my protests paid in full for the dubious experience. I switched to a roadside seller around the corner and enjoyed a classic rice, roti, vegetables and pickle dish with automatic refills.
I passed through Rampur on the way to Rudrapur City. Rampur has a wonderful old railway station which is the resting place for an old carriage. The surrounding building is a home to local families and for sack makers.

Unable to find a room on arrival in Rudrapur City I cycled into a residential area and enjoyed some momo and tea from street sellers. I was surrounded by local people that took a great interest in my travels and bicycle. My search for a room was then accompanied by two young lads on their bicycles. They led me to the centre of town which had numerous high rise tourist hotels none of which were terribly suitable. Finally I found one; the Hotel Corbett Inn and they happily provided a cheap room by a small roof area. Once settled I went out to soak up the local nightlife. I had a great meal and on the way back was drawn in to a wedding party. The couple followed the procession of lights and music in a car. I was treated like a special guest and had quite a part in the wedding video with my interviewed reactions to the event.

A wave goodbye to the staff at the Corbett Hotel and I continued towards the Nepalese border. Past Bandia and towards the town of Sitarganj I stopped at a lake which appeared to stretch as far as the eye could see.

I stayed at yet another dirty little hotel room at Sitarganj. I find it incredible that so many hotels, many of which have staff doing very little, are happy to place their guests in filthy rooms that obviously have not seen a cleaner for months on end. I ate fish from a nearby stall which was directly in front if a liquor store. It was home for local drunks. The fish tasted fine but I was to suffer afterwards.

Sitarganj was a lot bigger than I realised as I had arrived late in the evening and had not really ventured too far. I really had my eyes set on reaching the border with Nepal and set off fairly early. After reaching Khatima the road turned to a stony track which followed along a canal. A large barrage presented the last great barrier before the border and with a pleasant chat with an immigrations officer and exit stamp in my passport I was between the countries. I could not suppress my absolute joy at reaching Nepal.

My stay in Delhi was extended. I telephoned my mum and heard someone that sounded like they had suffered a stroke. This was the case. I contacted my wife and brother She was quickly admitted to hospital and I put everything on hold and waited for news.
It was a temporary ischaemic attack. Not good but no longer an urgent situation. She was put on a short waiting list for a procedure to improve her cerebral circulation. With help at hand the situation was under control and I could consider leaving Delhi. It was a difficult choice but with reassurance that all was okay I felt I could move on.
The bridge over the Yamuna river was jam packed with early morning traffic in each direction. I struggled to escape Delhi but only once past Ghaziabad did the traffic thin out. The suburban sprawl extended and the living conditions seemed extremely poor. Buildings are in a bad state. Everywhere is strewn with rubbish and surface water is black, smelly and contaminated. With a large poor population trying desperately to eek out an existence it was a place from which to escape. Traffic belches out huge volumes of pollution and the air is difficult to breathe. As a touring cyclist I hated it all and felt sorry for the people that were forced to endure such conditions.
I made Hapur and desperately searched for some kind of lodging. After a bit of a search I found a hotel on the station road. It was expensive and a bit crummy. During the night a storm raged. I awoke to find the streets flooded.

After sinking a cup of tea I set out once again. Breakfast was gratefully provided on the road by a shop owner on a motorbike who gave me various pastries as we moved along the road together.

I had to cycle around a lorry that had not quite made a bridge and lay on its side.

The next stop was Garmukteshwar. This busy town lies to the West of the sacred Ganges river. I cycled through local farmland until finally reaching the ‘mother’ Ganges.

I returned to the town and on local advice went back to the main highway to continue East and find a room for the night. I turned down the first motel which was both expensive and looked empty. A little further on I reached the road bridge over the Ganges. On the West bank lies the Hindu pilgrimage town of Ganga Snan Ghat. I was able to get a fairly decent room at a large pilgrims hostel with a large auditorium and canteen.

The Ganges is big business. The riverside was filled with pilgrim services; offerings, boat trips, ceremonies and shrines. Stalls provided food and religious items. Many sadhus or holy men wandered about. I bought one of them lunch. I watched as people immersed themselves in the Ganges and had a good walk around the town. At a temple devoted to Ganga I was invited in to the main courtyard and sat to chat with the temple elders.

The Tibetan enclave at Majnu Ka Tilla in Delhi is a special place. It provides a home and focus for a Tibetan community in exile. It consists of narrow passageways that make up a fairly dense area of buildings. On one side is a busy dual carriageway. On the other the banks of the Yamuna River. There is a unique blend of businesses and stalls providing a large range of Tibetan services and crafts. At the centre is a Buddhist temple. it is by nature a haven of peace and tranquility and provides a stark contrast with the surrounding city. It has become a focus for visiting Buddhists from all over the world and a stepping stone to Dharmsala and other destinations for meditation and contemplation. I felt very privileged to have had the opportunity to stay there. I will return to stay again before finally winging my way back to ol’ Blighty.