the gravel and rocks that caused the small bikes to bounce like bucking broncos . Every opportunity taken to stop at a roadside tea tent , chai and maggi the order of the day .
As we reached Purne the road forked , we continued on the Tsarap Road and followed the river of the same name , a small car stopped and its driver told us about the road conditions , apparently it was bad although the car was nothing more than a tiny two-wheel drive Suzuki . The road couldn ’ t be that bad , could it ?
At times it felt like there was no road at all , just a small track , barely wide enough to walk , that followed the river at times so close that it felt like we were in the river bed . I ’ d already fallen once and now it looked like it could happen again . My comfort zone had been stretched to the point of severe breakdown , I had no time to not enjoy the experience , just making it across the next kilometre seemed like an adventure of epic proportions . Anxiety was high and it must ’ ve shown as one of our riders dropped in behind and rode at a pace I was comfortable with , usually he ’ d be ahead having some level of ‘ fun ’.
The ride was brutal , a Royal Enfield has limited suspension at the best of times , this was a test of bike and rider . And as the punishment continued I couldn ’ t help laugh that a tiny car had ventured along this road . A voice constantly rang in my head , “ keep going , we ’ re almost at the end ”. My partner on the intercom , offering ‘ encouragement ’ the only way he knows how . “ Piss off ,” I thought . “ How the hell do you know ?”
After what felt like a solid day of riding , exhausted and at the point of breaking , we were forced through a narrow passage in the valley , the cliffs had steepened and closed in on either side , I felt like crying as the pace slowed . Giant rocks were strown across the path , surely we had
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