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into tracks and the tracks petered out into unblemished mountainsides , the Enfield ’ s really came into their own . The long-travel front shocks were there to soak up all the punishment that a treacherous mountain pass could throw at them . No frills , all function and nothing really to break that couldn ’ t be fixed with a 10mm spanner , some bubble-gum , and a pen knife , these were the perfect steeds to ride though the Lower Mustang Valley .
Once we had suitably pimped our Enfield ’ s with various flags , trinkets , Go-Pro mounts , and phone holders , we took them for a getting-to-knowyou rip around Pokhara , culminating with a lakeside cup of tea as the sun began to set on our first day on the bikes . After a year of planning , we were all finally here . We were doing it . And tomorrow , the riding was going to start for real .
With an early night and some good sleep in the bag , we met in the hotel lobby with the excitement of fiveyear-olds on Christmas morning . Our group was up early , fully caffeinated , and ready to set out on the first proper day of riding . With some last-minute lashing of flags to the back of our Enfield ’ s complete , we did a quick comms check to make sure everyone ’ s Sena ST1 was meshed into the correct group – and then we peeled out of Ride Ultimate Adventure ’ s HQ and hit the road .
The Pokhara traffic was nothing like the Chaos of Kathmandu . With few vehicles on the road and drivers actually obeying traffic lights and stop signs , the run out of Pokhara was pretty smooth ! The city quickly gave way to mountain roads lined with small towns and villages and we spent a couple of hours carving around on the sweeping tarmac bends before the roads petered out and we picked up some tracks going through a forest . Another hour or so picking our way through some nice offroad sections and the forest ended abruptly . A sheer chasm , spanned by a suspension bridge that Indiana Jones would have been proud of , stood before us . Suspended 135 metres in the air , Kushma- Gyadi Bridge is something out of a Hollywood adventure movie . It links Kushma village to Gyadichour village across an epic 350-metre gorge . Taking in the sign by the bridge that read “ 1 bike at a time ”, we formed an orderly queue , prepped the Go-Pros , and with butterflies doing loops in stomachs , waited our turn to make the crossing .
Hyperbole often gets thrown around in such circumstances , but the bridge crossing was spectacular . Day one of “ real ” riding and we were already getting a double shot of the adventure we had been craving in the build up to the trip . Bijay had delivered on his promises early , and as the last of our group finished crossing the bridge he smiled and told us that this was just the start of things to come .
With adrenaline coursing through our veins , we aimed the Enfields at a dirt track on the Gyadichour side of the bridge and set off for Baglung town , where we would be stopping that night . A couple of hours of mountain track riding later and we rolled into Baglung , dog tired , but with beaming grins on our faces .
As we parked the bikes and dished out obligatory high fives and fist bumps to commemorate a good day ’ s riding , a band of about 30 Nepalese people in full traditional dress began dancing towards us , backed by a seven-piece band playing some kind of trumpets , horns , drums , and cymbals . At first , we assumed it was some kind of local festival celebrating an aspect of Diwali … but Bijay informed us that the procession was there specifically to welcome us into the town , and we had better drop our helmets and join in with the dancing ! After being adorned with marigold necklaces and marked with
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