We entered Cambodia from Laos, crossing what’s probably the most corrupt border in Northeast Asia. Our route to Siem Reap – the gateway city to Angkor – led us along a royal trail that at times barely existed anymore. We kept stumbling upon temples, tomb ruins, and ancient bridges. We searched for the road by following faint tire marks in the grass, riding through jungle and sandy swamps, fully loaded, in nearly 40°C heat.

There’s something magical about Khmer civilization that makes you feel reverent when you encounter its remnants – the naga-decorated stone bridges, ruined temples, or ancient roads connecting palaces. Maybe it’s the lack of solid historical records, or the legends and myths filling in the gaps – or maybe it’s the beauty of once-great architectural feats reclaimed by nature.

We stayed in Siem Reap for a while. It was time for our first major bike repair – the cylinder on Qndelek began knocking loudly. Luckily, we found a knowledgeable mechanic who diagnosed the problem by ear. But spare parts in Cambodia are hard to come by. The mechanic installed a non-original piston, honed the cylinder, but didn’t restore the nikasil layer. We knew the fix wouldn’t last… but there was nothing else we could do here.

While in Siem Reap, we explored the temples of Angkor and met the local expat community. Cambodia tends to awaken compassion in Westerners. Konstantine, a Greek who had lived there for three years, invited us to join a ride-out with children from the only school for visually impaired kids in the country. We rode with them to Kampong Khlang for lunch – not alone, but with 20 other bikes. The kids were thrilled by the experience, the speed, the wind in their hair (covered only by bicycle helmets). And we, besides seeing the famous stilt village on Tonlé Sap, saw how clearly these children “see” the world.

From Phnom Penh, we headed south to Sihanoukville. Just ten years ago, this was a backpacker paradise, with cozy bamboo bungalows and atmospheric beaches. Today it’s ruled by Chinese capital – high-rises and neon-lit casinos dominate the skyline. We skipped it and decided to visit Koh Rong – the only Cambodian island where you can supposedly bring your own motorcycle. And yes, it’s possible – on a cargo boat, pushing the bike up a wooden plank through a side hatch. Not for the faint-hearted – the loading pier is narrow, the boat’s side is high, and it rocks freely on the waves.

Koh Rong impressed us with its balance between untouched nature, excellent tourist infrastructure, and laid-back village life. We strolled along endless sandy beaches, relaxed on the wooden bungalow porch at the jungle’s edge, and toured the island – where, a few kilometers from our stay, shrimp dried in the sun on a local fisherman’s pier.

A number of Poles live on Koh Rong. We met Artur from Watersports Cambodia, who arranged a scuba diving trip for us to an excellent reef. We also discovered Apsara Resort – a boutique hotel created by Iwona and Staś from Elbląg, a couple who sold everything a year ago and moved to the island to start a new life. Their story touched us so deeply, we briefly considered staying and building something with them!

We promised to think about it and returned from Koh Rong to the mainland. On our way to the border with Thailand – the last one where FVP wasn’t yet required – we rode through endless palm oil plantations. We took open dirt roads and enjoyed the ride on red soil.

We didn’t want to leave. But our minds told us new countries and new adventures were waiting!

Update:
We crossed the border on May 4, 2025, relatively smoothly. A few weeks later, due to tensions near the northern Thai-Cambodian border and a dispute over the Preah Vihear temple, the Thai army closed all land crossings from Cambodia. Overlanders can now only use the Thai borders with Laos and Malaysia. Entry to Thailand with a TIP (Temporary Import Permit), previously issued free of charge, is no longer possible. More on this in our vlog.

Useful links, places we recommend:

Scuba diving on Koh Rong: Watersports Cambodia

Boutique hotel on Koh Rong: Apsara Resort

Boat Noodle Restaurant in Siem Reap

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One of those places was a tiny two-table restaurant serving an incredible dark broth with rice noodles and duck.
We loved it. The soup came packed with mung bean sprouts, scallions, pork meatballs, and a generous serving of duck breast.

With it came large glass mugs filled with ice, ready to be topped up with green tea that was already waiting on the table. And a plate of fresh herbs for self-seasoning.

Khmer eateries are often open only in the morning, or only in the evening, or sometimes just for a few hours.
This one was open all day. It sold only duck boat noodle and nom pao — steamed buns with pork filling.
We went there almost every day — for the consistently delicious duck, imported from Thailand.

We kept wondering why it was always so empty. We figured it was because the restaurant was barely visible from the main road — technically on the intersection, but set back a little. The only signs that food was served here: a pot of nom pao placed near the curb and a faded brown banner in Khmer script. We translated it with our Vasco — it read: “The best taste from Ayutthaya.”

Chan Pov — the cook, owner, waiter, and cleaner in one — would always greet us with a respectful smile when we ordered. He barely spoke any English. Neither did his mother or sister, who we occasionally saw at the restaurant.

Cambodia is full of stories that tug at your heart, and by the expressions on their faces, we could tell they’d been through a lot. They were happy when we came by — aside from us, it seemed the soup was mostly sold to scooter drivers grabbing takeout.

Each time we finished eating and got back on our bikes, Chan Pov would come over to admire the motorcycles. He’d look with wonder and just a touch of envy, and half in English, half with gestures, he’d say: “One day… I go too. But now, no money.”

As the Khmer New Year approached, we knew this family was fighting for more than just their next customer. At the last moment, we snapped a photo of the soup and went looking for a local advertising shop — we wanted to make them a mobile stand, like the ones used by family-run businesses here. Many places turned us away. The Khmer New Year in Siem Reap is a big deal — no one wanted a last-minute order.

Finally, we found the right person.

After several attempts, we met Phanith. As soon as we said “duck boat noodle, two blocks from here”, he knew who we meant.

Phanith had gone to English school with Chan Pov. Chan had to drop out due to health issues and another upcoming surgery.

We clicked instantly. Together, we designed a tall, colorful advertising stand — and the next day it was printed and ready. We headed to POV’s restaurant, the van with the stand following behind.

We’ll never forget Chan Pov’s and his mother’s faces as the agency staff unpacked and set up the stand. They watched in amazement. It was so deeply moving that all of us ended up in tears. We tried to talk, but even with a translator, communication was tough. But that sign… meant more to them than just advertising. It was hope. A sign that someone saw them. That they could fight for a better tomorrow.

Now the soup comes with an egg — because we put it on the stand. A third table has appeared. They’re thinking about how to decorate the place. Iced coffee is now on the menu too.

But you know how it is — every change needs time. There are a few more customers now, but it’s not full. Reviews on Google are trickling in, slowly.

What they need now is for someone to come and eat there.
Smile at Chan Pov and his mom, snap a photo with the soup, and leave a kind word on Google.

If you’re going to Siem Reap — visit Chan Pov and his amazing little restaurant.
Eat some delicious duck boat noodle and help Chan Pov’s  get closer to his dream of riding his own motorcycle.

📍 Address: https://maps.app.goo.gl/vMPHi8dMj6ZheT2b7

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Laos. A country that can captivate with its raw nature but also test the patience of any motorcyclist. We spent 58 days, covering 3,150 km of routes that were nothing like the flawless highways of China. It was a real rollercoaster – roads that don’t exist on maps, rafts instead of bridges, mud instead of asphalt, and sudden surface changes that taught us humility. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

Laotian Roads – A Paradise or a Curse?

We entered Laos from China, and the first shock came instantly. From pristine highways straight onto cracked, potholed roads and gravel serpentine tracks. Laos is an off-road paradise, but if you want to move quickly – don’t count on it.

A map won’t help much. A yellow-marked road isn’t necessarily better than a white one, and the most stunning routes are those Google Maps has no clue about. The best GPS here? The locals. They point out trails that seem nonexistent but lead to places we’d never have found on our own.

What Can You Expect on the Roads?

• Cracked asphalt with razor-sharp potholes.
• Dust clouds on dirt roads that turn into slippery mudslides after just a little rain.
• A lack of bridges. River crossings are a daily reality – motorcycles end up on wooden boats or rafts barely bigger than a bed.
• Unpredictable surfaces. Conditions can change in an instant – you have to stay alert because Laos does not forgive mistakes.

What Did We See in Laos?

People often call Laos “sleepy.” It’s true – life moves differently here. Slower, quieter, away from the rush and excess.

Villages off the main routes feel like another world. Stilt houses are spacious, but inside, you’ll find only the essentials – a sleeping area, a few pots, and ancestor photos. Men work harvesting cassava, women weave sarongs, and barefoot children run along the roads.

North vs. South

The north is lush green, with limestone mountains, hidden caves, and untouched waterfalls. A paradise for exploration if you love wild nature and motorcycle loops.

The south is dominated by the Mekong River – endless rice fields and boats dotting the water. It’s flatter, but this is where you’ll see some of Laos’ most iconic landscapes.

One thing is certain – Laos is changing. The Chinese-built dams and hydroelectric plants on the Mekong are multiplying, modern Chinese railways are in full operation, and the French colonial influence is fading. If you want to experience Laos as it is now, go as soon as possible.

Riding a Motorcycle in Laos – How Does It Work?

Laos is a great place for motorcycle exploration, even for those without their own bike. You can rent a scooter for a few dollars per day or a motorcycle for $20–30 USD. The most popular loops include:

• The Thakek Loop – full of caves and rock formations.
• The Northeastern Loop – winding through mountain landscapes, perfect for a relaxed ride.

Where Are We Heading Next?

Southeast Asia is pulling us in more and more. After Laos and Northern Thailand, we’re now in Cambodia. Each country is different, but one thing remains the same – the warmth and hospitality of the people.

Riding our own motorcycles gives us absolute freedom – we can set our own pace, stop wherever we want, and experience these countries from the inside out. That’s why we’re continuing southeast – next up: Cambodia, Southern Thailand, and Malaysia.

Laos – Is It Worth It?

If you’re looking for challenges, adventure, and roads that shake you to your core – then yes, it’s worth it. If dust, mud, the sun beating through your visor, and sudden plan changes don’t scare you – you’ll love Laos.

This is one of those places where the journey is more important than the destination. And those are the places we love the most.

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Bangladesh left us with a mix of amazement, admiration, and confusion. We rode 2091 km on roads with more potholes than asphalt, fighting to avoid being run over by speeding buses or brake-less trucks. Total chaos on the road is the norm here, but the challenges are made up for by the people, whose exceptional warmth is truly heartwarming.

The Border – 27 Hours of Uncertainty

The adventure began at the border, where we discovered that the Carnet de Passage was not sufficient for allowing our motorcycles into the country. Customs officials refused entry, claiming we needed special permission that could only be obtained in Dhaka. We were stuck between borders and spent the night in no man’s land, waiting for the customs office to open in the morning to secure an extraordinary entry permit. What an adventure! When we finally entered the country, Bangladesh greeted us enthusiastically. Foreign visitors are rare here, so our arrival was an event.

Traffic – Two-Wheel Survival

Bangladesh’s roads are a challenge we won’t soon forget. Tuk-tuk traffic jams in every town, battered buses that look like they’ve been through a series of accidents, and cars outfitted with welded crash bars. Rickshaws, whether electric, bicycle-powered, gas-driven, or even foot-pulled, fill every available space. Add a lack of traffic lights, widespread wrong-way driving, and relentless horn honking, and you have the recipe for a true survival school for Western drivers. Traffic can become so clogged that even pedestrians find it hard to navigate.

People Who Disarm You with Their Warmth

The people of Bangladesh are simply amazing. Everywhere we went, we met people curious about our journey, inviting us to their homes and offering us food. Every motorcycle stop ended with at least a few minutes of photo sessions. We’ve never taken so many selfies anywhere else—we felt like real celebrities. We even gave interviews to three national TV stations.

Cox’s Bazar – The World’s Longest Natural Beach

If there’s one reason to visit Bangladesh, it’s this. Riding a motorcycle on the 120-kilometer-long, firm beach at Cox’s Bazar feels like a dream come true. On one side, the ocean and a breathtaking sunset. On the other, fishermen pulling moon boats from the water, cleaning their nets, and lighting campfires. Waves caressing the wheels and the sheer freedom of riding straight ahead—this is an experience that lingers in your heart for a lifetime.

The Sundarbans – An Industrial Surprise

We traveled to the mangrove forest in the Sundarbans region, expecting mysterious misty wetlands, crocodiles, unknown bird species, and the Bengal tiger. Instead, we found a highly industrialized area where cargo ships dock freely. There’s a floating coal market here, along with dredging barges extracting sand from the riverbed. Motorboats and large passenger vessels ply the waters, while smaller channels are off-limits.

Waterfalls Awaiting Discovery

We had to skip the Bandarban Hills because tensions between local authorities and tribes had closed the area to tourism. Instead, we headed northeast, drawn by the promise of tea plantations and stunning waterfalls. The trek to the Hum Hum waterfall is an adventure we’ll never forget. To reach it, you follow a narrow path through a tropical forest and then wade through a river. The lack of tourist infrastructure makes such places authentic and hard to access.

The Brotherhood of Bikers

Crossing the border and navigating the country was made much easier thanks to local bikers. When Yamaha clubs in Dhaka heard about us, we were invited to an event at Yamaha’s flagship showroom (apparently, this showroom sells the most Yamaha motorcycles in the world). We shared some stories about our journey and got to observe just how impressive Asian motorcycle marketing is.

27 Days Isn’t Enough

Poor roads, the lack of a developed tourist infrastructure, and the extraordinary hospitality of the people significantly slowed us down. Twenty-seven days flew by, leaving many pins on our map untouched. Will we manage to return on our own wheels? The current state of regulations isn’t clear even to border officials, so our chances are 50/50. We’ll definitely give it a shot.

This country full of contrasts—chaos and beauty, challenges and warmth—completely won us over. We left exhausted but with the feeling that we had discovered something extraordinary. If you’d like to know more about our ride through Bangladesh, message us privately on Facebook, Instagram, or WhatsApp.

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After 6 weeks in India, during which we visited the iconic places of Rajasthan, we moved to Nepal. We crossed the border in the west (via Banbasa-Kanchanpur crossing) and then headed north to the lesser-known, mountainous Mid Hill Highway.”

Highway does not mean a motorway in this case, but a single-lane road connecting villages in the lower parts of the Himalayas from west to east.

The road is intended to facilitate communication between neighboring villages in the lower mountain range. It has been under construction for many years – some sections are completed and paved, others are good dirt roads. There are often sections covered with gravel or sand, and heavy equipment work goes on without stopping the traffic. The Mid Hill Highway, despite often being cut into the mountain slopes and very winding, has no safety barriers or warning boards along its entire length. The road is almost exclusively used by local people, and long-distance transport takes place on the H1 highway, located down in the plains.

The Mid Hill Highway gave us access to observe the authentic life of the people of Nepal. To Westerners, Nepal is associated with trekking in the Himalayas, Durbar Square in Kathmandu, and rhinos in Chitwan National Park. Meanwhile, Nepal away from tourist attractions is endless rice fields manually cultivated on terraces. It is goats and buffalos grazing on steep slopes and very simple living in harmony with the rhythm of nature.

Mustang and the Annapurna Circuit

After a few days on the picturesque serpentine roads, we reached Pokhara. Here, we took a short rest and obtained permits to enter Mustang. This is where the idea to ride motorcycles around the Annapurna Circuit as far as possible came to life.

The journey to Muktinath (3800m above sea level) – a town where the road ends, led through an epic landscape with rock ledges along the Kali Gandaki River. We passed waterfalls, dozens of hanging bridges, and traditional villages whose inhabitants rely solely on tourism, as the road intersects with the famous Annapurna Circuit trekking routes. Muktinath itself is surrounded by white peaks – from here you can see Dhaulagiri (8167m) and Nilgiri (7060m) well. This is Mustang with its rich, unique culture. We stayed for a few days to participate in the traditional festivals of the local community.”

From Muktinath to Khangsar is only 13.5 km, but along the way there is the Thorong Pass, which can only be crossed on foot, so we had to return to the main road and head back into the mountains at Besisahar town. Here awaited the most challenging section of the route. Our heavily loaded motorcycles had to conquer long, steep climbs, damaged and potholed mountain tracks, rocky and sandy sections. At the end of this road awaited a fantastic scenic trek to Tilicho Lake (4991m).

Unknown Eastern Nepal

Traveling through the eastern part of Nepal kept us away from tourist traffic. There were no attractions apart from the views of the eight-thousanders – which, unfortunately, we did not see. With the onset of the monsoon season, unbearable heat prevailed in the lower parts of the mountains, and in the higher parts, thick fog, drizzles, and rain appeared. We faced entirely new challenges.

In the eastern section of the Mid Hill Hwy, we discovered small, well-organized communities that lived by their own rules. We were welcomed here with great kindness and appreciation for our journey.

We ended our Nepalese adventures at the Kakarvita – Siliguri border – however, after the pandemic, it was opened only for locals: citizens of India, Nepal and Myanmar. So we had to return 500 km west to leave Nepal via the Raxaul border. Today we are back in India, but we have modified further plans.

Due to weather anomalies and a significant increase in temperature this summer, we cannot continue driving south. There is a huge risk of overheating. We experienced breath shortage and losing balance while riding. We will return to Poland for a few weeks, and you will be able to meet us on the side roads in the Bieszczady Mountains, Lower Silesia, or on the Polish TET.

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Hmmm, well, we’ll see. For now, we are driving on good tarmac road from Begnas Lake towards Besisahar – the gateway to the eastern part of the Annapurna trekking circuit. From there, it’s only 103 km to Khangsar – an old village where the passable road ends. We want to do a two-three day trek to Lake Tilicho.

We hadn’t checked what kind of road it was, so we only know that from the main road we have about 75 km to go. Turning onto a gravel road immediately confirms Juvena’s words. The track is narrow, potholed, sometimes rocky, sometimes sandy, crisscrossed with water ruts, with a full portfolio of rough patches. We pass small villages and climb a rocky shelf high above the Marsyangdi River. Our pace is steadily slow – we cover about 20 km in an hour. And we are the fastest on this road – we pass a few jeeps and some locals, but no one overtakes us. Just before Jagat, the road is blocked by a traffic jam. A jeep on a switchback either reversed too far or lost its brakes and ended up off the road. Now the locals are trying to pull it out with a tractor, and whoever comes along has to stop and wait.

Dusk has already come, and we know we need to set for the night. A quick decision – we go back to the previous village and find a pleasant blue-pink lodge. The life of the villages along this road is completely dependent on tourists. The cultivation of small plots on the slopes and animal husbandry provide food supplies, but they are not easily monetized in this area. Therefore, whoever has space and can, opens a lodge. They feed and host trekkers traveling the trail around Annapurna.

The next day we head north. Everyone says the road will get better after Jagat. Yes, there are long concrete sections here, but you still need to be careful – especially at the joints between the concrete and what’s underneath – because there are usually the biggest holes and sharp edges. The climbs are so steep that the motorcycle easily goes on the rear wheel, so we practically hang over the tank. You also need to be careful when catching up with jeeps because they kick up a lot of dust and are not always keen to let a smaller vehicle pass.

Finally, the landscape flattens out. We ride between apple orchards and even stop at the only eco-apple-resort to try the local apple pie.

Late in the afternoon, we arrive in Khangsar. It’s cold and windy here. Most trekkers choose Manang – a larger village 5 km away- as their base, but for us, peace and proximity to the trailhead are important. A jeep with trekkers arrives in Khangsar only once a day, and occasionally, Nepali motorcyclists come. We check into a tiny resort with standalone cabins right at the beginning of the village. We dedicate the next day to acclimatization and work, and the day after tomorrow – we hit the trail!

The glacial lake Tilicho lies at an altitude of 4919 m, but you can view it from above, climbing first to a bit over 5000 m. It’s worth catching your breath before this hike because we have never been this high on foot before.

Bad luck and good luck in one – it was very windy at night. We won’t be working on laptops because the wind damaged the cables and there is no power. But the view of the mountains appeared. We sit in the dining room by the window watching trekkers and porters trudging up the hill. Will we move at this pace too?

In the afternoon, we check the condition of the air filters and don’t even stop when it starts snowing. – Everything is fine – confirms Jacek with satisfaction. The preliminary filters collect the road dust very well and the main filters remained clean. That day, we don’t manage to do much more. We lie in sleeping bags and read.

Finally, the morning after we pack our backpack, take a supply of water, and tell our host that we will be back in 2 nights. The trail gently climbs up, but we don’t tackle even gentle climbs smoothly. We maintain breathing for a few dozen meters, then thin air forces a stop.

On the way, we visit the Buddhist temple in Shree Kharka. We are lucky that it has just been opened for Buddhists trekkers – (greets guys!) and we can see it from the inside. The interior is beautifully renovated. A large gilded Buddha figure shines on the altar, and smaller deities dressed in colorful robes rest behind glass in the side aisles. The obligatory Dharma wheel and the entire pantheon of chimeric creatures gleam on the walls.

We continue climbing for several hours, finally reaching Tilicho Basecamp in the late afternoon. This is a mini village made up entirely of lodges. The sole purpose of this place is to provide overnight accommodation on the way to the lake. People stay here for one night to set off on the trail early in the morning.

It’s a strange place. The accommodation is very basic, and a room costs us less than 4 dollars. However, food is the most expensive in all of Nepal, and a liter bottle of water can cost 8 PLN. The lodge staff are forcibly polite – they know that soon we will be gone, and others will come anyway. We feel like we have become cogs in the tourist industry. There is nothing authentic here, and we feel that it is impossible to find anything not catered for tourists. One thing is certain – everything here is carried – on the backs of donkeys and horses or on human backs.

The trail from the basecamp to the lake climbs evenly upwards. We are now well above 4000 meters, and our intervals are getting shorter. We set off quite late and, as usual, don’t restrain ourselves from admiring the views. Snow-capped peaks accompany us along the entire route. It’s hard to breathe, but the views reward the effort. We pass climbers and porters with saddled horses returning from the top – there are clearly different methods to reach the summit. Vegetation disappears, and the landscape turns into a lunar field. Finally, on the steep slope ahead of us, we see sharp, dense zigzags.

“You know, maybe we don’t have to go up there,” I say tentatively to Jacek. My head is splitting with sharp pain, and I’m barely breathing. “I would keep going,” I hear in response. It seems my suggestion didn’t land well.

We take a longer break, weighing the pros and cons, and finally decide to go up. The zigzags turn out to be a true test of willpower. In less than a kilometer of the trail, we ascend a 500-meter elevation. The trail then leads along a ridge – gently rising and falling. We pass two tiny frozen lakes and now walk on a wide path intersected by streams of melting snow. Eventually, snow appears. Another 300, 200 meters, and finally, we see a white, foggy lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains.

This is our moment of triumph – we have never walked this high before. We are out of shape because continuous travel makes regular exercise difficult. We didn’t give up along the way and, despite feeling unwell, achieved our goal. We both feel joy and fulfillment.

After half an hour, the cold chases us away. We are the last ones here – happy to have the lake to ourselves, but it’s time to head back to reach the basecamp before dusk.

We return to Khangsar the next day and then descend to Besisahar the following day. This marks the end of our adventure on the Annapurna Circuit.

Summary and conclusions

We traveled a challenging, spectacular mountain road and completed another breathtaking trail. We know there are many such trails in Nepal, and Nepal builds its tourist appeal around them. Beautiful views come at a price, and the most beautiful trails can be extremely crowded. After all, these are the Himalayas – the world’s greatest mountains!

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We froze our journey for 3 months by arriving in Poland. Had extensive plans to rest in the comfort of our own home, take care of travel formalities and plan our further route. We only had time to perform on a few of the most urgent tasks. The route preparations for the following weeks had to be done in Delhi. As well as very general assumptions of what’s possible, destinations and plan for further travel.

Traveling the world by motorcycle, despite its obvious advantages, has many limitations that do not exist when you move by plane without your own vehicle. Land borders are sometimes closed – as in Azerbaijan or Myanmar. The weather can effectively make riding difficult because it is difficult to move during the monsoon season in an area prone to landslides, or to ride at a temperature of 45 degrees. The seasons are changing and that’s it. You must ensure the validity of your documents and the deadlines for your stay in a given country. There are a lot of smaller things that make a trip lasting several years much more difficult to plan than shorter trips, even months long.

Shall we continue east? Shall we visit Central Asia and slowly return home with our vehicles?

The first option was to travel to Nepal and send the motorcycles by air to Thailand due to the closed borders of Myanmar. Then Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, after only the islands: Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines.

The second option – go further east and visit China, which we have never been to, and try to get to another continent. This option turned out to be too expensive for us to even consider.

Third – return home through Central Asia. Get to know the “-stans”, the most beautiful and least visited part of the Silk Road by land. And then do thorough research and sensible plan for the next big travels – China, Mongolia, or the islands of Southeast Asia. Perhaps vehicles bought locally, rather than brought from Poland, would be more suited to local conditions. Perhaps we should break travels in episodes shorter than a dozen or so months.

We are most inclined to the option of taking our time returning back home. Vast spaces of central Eurasia and an abundance of off-road routes attract us more than crowded countries in the South. The mix of post-Soviet and tribal Asian rhetoric adds flavor to this part of the trip.

But we wouldn’t be ourselves if we didn’t complicate this return a bit. How and why?

India has a special place in our hearts. For both of us, India was the first country outside the Western culture that we visited. We have known India since 2004. Then we returned here several times backpacking, slowly discovering various less popular regions such as Sikkim, Andamans, or Arunachal Pradesh. Each time we discovered something new, admired it, got angry at the “expect unexpected” and returned home even more in love with India.

We will take advantage of the fact that we have our motorcycles here and enjoy every corner of India. Or rather, what is Indian and what mingles with India. Pakistan is already explored. We will go through Nepal, Bangladesh and circumnavigate the Indian subcontinent. It won’t be an easy ride. The temperature in southern India already exceeds 30 degrees at the beginning of February. In a few months it will be over 40.

Then we will have Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan. We will attempt to enter Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan, which are considered almost impossible to visit on your own motorcycle. Perhaps we will add a transit through Russia to Georgia and slowly reach Europe. Probably in winter.

The journey will take many months again. And this time we didn’t plan it in detail. Not only because we didn’t have time for it, but also because of the changing border situation in Eurasia. Further sections of the route will be built along the way.

Are you inspired by this story? Join our journey by following us over social media. You will see distant corners of the world from the front row. Followed by suggestions of places worth visiting and tips of practical experience from a long-distance motorcycle escapade.

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On the Attari-Wagah border, the lands belonging to India and Pakistan are separated by two closed and closely guarded metal gates. There are stands on both sides that can accommodate 10,000 and 25,000 people on the Pakistan and Indian sides, respectively.

Every day, several thousand spectators gather here for so called “closing the border” or “lowering the flag” ceremony. It is an extraordinary performance, delighting with its scale and scope, as well as evoking reflections on the essence of the conflict and mutual relations between India and Pakistan. Spectators with tiranga painted on their cheeks, popcorn, and flags in their hands arrive here from 4 p.m., taking the best seats in the stands. Pre-ceremony leaders whip up patriotism towards the motherland and hostile attitude towards the neighboring country. In an obvious pantomime, they “press” the opponent into the ground with the heel, “kick” him into space, and “knock out” with their fists. The crowds cheer.

Hindustan Zindabad! – chanting can be heard on the Indian side. Pakistan Zindabad! – heard in Pakistani. Bollywood hits blare and words of patriotic propaganda pour from the speakers.

At sunset on both sides, the same thing will happen simultaneously. A handful of well-dressed soldiers enter the main field. Ironed uniforms and pomaded mustaches shine bright. They wear characteristic plumed headgear and festive white shoes on their feet. They’re about to start putting on a war show.

First, an inspection parade – the border guard commander will check the soldiers to confirm their readiness for service. Then a brisk march with legs swinging above their heads. It’s a show of fitness and strength. The soldiers take up subsequent positions and in several iterations approach the open gates of the border. Every gesture is exaggerated.

Pakistan Rangers and Indian Border Security Forces face each other. They exchange sinister glances, shake their fists, and make stern faces so that no one has any doubts about who is on top, who is better and who is about to “eat” whom. Then they energetically lower their national flags, shake hands and march away. The gate closes with a clang and the audience rushes to the exit. This time tomorrow, the same thing will happen here.

How did the Attari-Wagah border closing ceremony come about?

Officially, India does not like Pakistan. The roots of hostility go back to the times of the British Crown, when the lands of both countries belonged to one geopolitical entity. The British administration, using the “divide and rule” policy, created social divisions around everything – especially around religious affiliation. Ultimately, the Crown, abandoning its colonies in 1947, had to divide the subcontinent between Muslims – demanding their own state based on religion, and not Muslims led by Gandhi, striving to create one multicultural state. The partition of India deepened the social divide, as the arbitrarily drawn line placed millions on the “wrong side” and were, in a sense, forced to migrate. Hundreds of thousands of families have suffered historical injustice, and time hardly erases the painful memories. Conflict over disputed territories, such as Kashmir, continues to smolder to this day.

Soon after the partition of British India, border buildings, barriers and gates were constructed. The ceremony began to be celebrated shortly thereafter. It was intended to be an expression of military power and a tool for strengthening patriotism in the emerging states.

The armies of Pakistan and India were derived from earlier British military organizations, or formations subordinate to local rajas, but also under English authority. The British army has a number of show rituals that could be used here to create a spectacular ceremony. It is not known on whose initiative and exactly how the scenario of the event was shaped, but the 18th century beating retreat ceremony was used to create it.

Beating retreat is a ritual of ending a war day before sunset. In those days, fighting did not take place at night. So at dusk, drum beating called on the soldiers to stop fighting, secure their positions and prepare for rest. Flags were lowered during the suspension of fighting, demonstrating to the other side the strength of their army and certainty of victory. All accompanied by drumming and loud commanding.

The reflections are obvious – these are people who once lived in harmony with each other. Affected by colonialism and quarreled by foreigners, finally they borrowed the ceremony from their invaders. By that and with elements of hatred towards a brotherly country, they want to build national pride and patriotic attitudes.

Additionally, for the entire event to be successful, Pakistani Rangers and Border Security Forces had to prepare this ceremony together. It’s bitter and weird, isn’t it?

How to attend the Wagah border closing ceremony?

From the Indian side, the base for trips to the ceremony is Amritsar – 27 km from the border. From here, taxis and rickshaws gather at the exit of Golden Temple and take viewers to the border parking lot at a fixed price (in August 2023, a round trip for one person cost 300 rupees). To be on time, catch a rickshaw or taxi no later than 3 p.m. in summer (2 p.m. in winter) and be prepared for 45 minutes of moderate discomfort.

Public transport (taxis and rickshaws) takes spectators to a parking lot about 1.5 km from the border. The remaining distance must be covered on foot. As soon as you exit the vehicle, you will be greeted by Indian flag sellers. Somebody will definitely want to decorate your cheeks with three flag colors or put a patriotic baseball cap on your head. As you walk towards the border, stock up on water and snacks. You’ll find plenty of them along the road.

There are multiple entrances to the ceremony and at least 2 security checks. Please remember that large bags, backpacks and large tripods are not allowed into the stands. Foreigners are asked to show their passport and are directed to the VIP section, which offers excellent views of the ceremony and the gate itself.

The ceremony itself starts at 5:15 a.m. in summer and around 4:30 a.m. in winter, but is preceded by a number of attractions, such as dancing to Bollywood music, running with flags, etc. Observing these attractions and the chanting crowd is an integral part of this experience.

Admission is free. If you can, avoid weekends because they are extremely crowded.

The post Wagah border ceremony – all you need to know first appeared on ONE MORE ADV.

What a ride!

We are out of town on expressway. Cruising speed 110-120 km/h.

A white Saipa has been driving next to me for a while. The woman, from the passenger seat, watches our duo closely, while the driver glances alternately at me and the road. I’m almost sure that the window will soon go down, and a smartphone lens aimed at me will flash in the window.

However, the car pulls up to Jacek’s level and keeps a steady pace. I bet with myself how long it will take before the curious lady allows herself to film the hareji – foreign tourists on big motorcycles.

The window opens and…. A sizable orange flies towards Jacek. Thrown energetically from the driver’s hands, it hit him quite painfully in the arm.

An act of road rage? No – a treat. Just Iranian hospitality.

When you go to Thailand, Sri Lanka, or India – to any single country – you familiarize yourself with the local road law regulations, with what the signs look like, you look for information on what to watch out for, how the locals actually drive and what you can be fined for.

And if you forgot to do that? Then you have to adapt on the go. Learn how we do it.

What we do right across the border

Western countries tend to help drivers by placing a board with the speed limit on different roads within the first few kilometers from the border. We always slow down at it and memorize how much we are allowed. The rest of the issues in the EU are simple. Road traffic is regulated by a similar logic – the smaller one always has priority – pedestrian, cyclist, at the end there is always a truck – it is the least allowed on the roads. Vehicles are in good technical condition, equipped with a complete set of lights and mirrors. There are a lot of signs and drivers in the vast majority strictly adhere to them.

The Balkan traffic becomes restless. The road signs are still there, but drivers seem to loosely adhere to the road law. The roads are in worse condition, there are fewer signs, and the vehicles…. hmmm there is more diversity. Here, speed is dictated by the capabilities of the vehicle and the condition of the road surface, not by some external legal regulations.

That’s why in the first few kilometers across the border we turn on the observation mode. Riding cautiously with eyes around our head. We find a vehicle that drives confidently and smoothly, and we pin ourselves to its trajectory. We model the driving style, keeping ourselves at an equal distance behind it. In the meantime, we observe what vehicles are there in road traffic and learn their typical maneuvers. We get to know the culture of road management – the presence of signs, the condition of the surface, traffic cops – all this affects the understanding of what local drivers are doing.

And what are they doing? You wouldn’t come up with it yourself, it’s simply amazing.

What do we pay attention to?

1. Vehicles on the road. What is the tribal composition of road traffic?

In Asia, different types of vehicles are like tribes – if one prevails, it dominates the others and usually moves the most smoothly. Customarily, it also has the most leeway – that is, it breaks the most rules, or … establishes its own “road laws”. In Vietnam, scooters rule, cars ineptly push themselves between them. In Iran – blue Zamyad pickups are the fastest and have the most aggressive driving style. The dominant tribe – that’s the one we carefully watch out for on the road.

The technical condition of the vehicles is also important. Motorcycles don’t have mirrors? That means they will drive under our wheels. It’s like on a ski slope – what matters is what’s in front, and the one behind has to watch out. Vehicles without lights during the day? They won’t have lights at night either. They may move very slowly and in the middle of the road.

2. Road signs

Are there white lines separating the lanes of traffic? If most of them are not there – drivers are not used to sticking to their lane. Expect driving in the middle of the road and constant cutting of corners. When the lines do appear – drivers ignore their existence and can suddenly turn across 3 lanes of road, not looking beforehand in the mirrors.

Are there vertical signs? Do we understand them? Sometimes the sign is in a known road convention, but the pictogram is as clear as an Egyptian hieroglyph. We decipher the meanings using the internet, or by asking drivers at gas stations.

Do warning signs correlate with road hazards? In the opinion of many drivers in Poland, speed limits and warnings of dangerous bends are often not adapted to the actual danger. However, the further east, the fewer signs and more dangers, so if they are – we take them seriously.

Are there unusual markings? A pile of stones, or a stack of branches in the middle of the road almost always means a deep hole in lane. A burning tire on the shoulder at night? A few meters further there is probably a broken truck.

3. Driver behavior

Kurdistan here and there, but drivers drive quite differently on the Turkish and Iranian side of the border. If someone cuts you off in Turkey, forcing you to slow down, you can be sure that he is just turning from the left lane to the right. If he does it in Iran – he just stared at you, because he never saw such a motorcycle and his car goes where the driver looks.

Behavior on the roads is like personality – it is the result of a whole set of life circumstances in a given country. The internal socio-political organization determines access to driving equipment and admission to traffic, the way of enforcing road regulations and law in general and a million other things, for which “it is what it is”. Competence resulting from a passed or bribed exam are the tip of the iceberg.

The further east, the more drivers hurry. However, in Turkey they simply “leak” consistently in their direction, while in Iran they “take their place” on the road for the sake of the future driving track, often blocking the passage of other, smaller vehicles.

That’s why observing driver behavior is the most important point for our safety. In addition, it is interesting, both for practical and ethnographic reasons.

In many countries, the use of turn signals is not popular. Intentions have to be read from the behavior of the vehicle. The driver drifts consistently to the left/right? He will turn. Another time you can forsee that he turns when he brakes sharply near the intersection. In Pakistan, when a vehicle makes room for you to overtake, it signals the opposite of what we do. We show that we will stick close to the shoulder, here the turn signal is lit from the axis of the road.

We always use blinkers – this makes our driving style – foreign here – to be much clearer and thus much safer for us.

Riding together – we do not keep a safe distance from each other in the European sense. We only keep it enough so that no car, rickshaw, or small motorcycle gets between us. Asian traffic does not tolerate vacuum, and every smallest space is immediately filled. If we split up, it will be harder for us to dodge, overtake and “leak” in our direction.

Can you understand this?

Yes. And like this “chaos”.

When you want to get a general picture of road traffic in Asia – you search on Youtube for “traffic in Vietnam” or “traffic in India”. You find videos of large intersections, where the free movement of vehicles reminds you of an anthill. You don’t see any rules, and you have the impression that riding there is veeeery dangerous. Unnecessarily. The speed in the cities is from a few to max 30-40 km/h, which in most cases allows for adequate reactions to the threats.

Besides, it’s like dancing, or soccer. It’s one thing to dance, play – another thing to watch from the stands. And the first one is much more enjoyable!

The post Overlanding – part 2. On road safety in Asia… first appeared on ONE MORE ADV.

There was no road until recently and anticipating a bit, no, it wasn’t built by the government. To get out of the village to the main thoroughfare of Karakoram, one had to walk for about 3 days. That was how long it took to cover 56 km of rocky terrain, crisscrossed here and there by streams from melting glaciers. This journey along the icy Shimshal river was made only by those who really had to. Horses or donkeys could be used for transportation, but how many things could be moved this way along a narrow path carved in the rock?

Shimshal Valley

For 400 years, people have lived on what they can produce here themselves. They divided the fertile land at the riverside plain into small plots that were easy to cultivate by hand. Only potatoes, wheat and barley grow well here. Apricots and apples supplement the diet. Traditional mills were built by the river to turn grain into flour effortlessly.

The valley is surrounded on three sides by the Karakoram mountain range and is adjacent to the seven-thousanders Yukshin Gardan Sar, Disteghil Sar and Karun Koh. No wonder that the most famous guides and porters come from here and willingly accompany Himalayan climbers on their life changing expeditions.

It is not easy to take care of the heat here, because the village lies really high – at 3100 m. The temperature in the valley drops to -27 in winter. Until recently, electricity came only from hydropower plants, operating from June to October, later the water froze. In winter, Shimshal was plunged into coolness and darkness, illuminated only by the soft flame of kerosine lamps in the evenings.

In summer the area comes alive. If you want to have a harvest, you have to sow and take care of the crops. Cattle, sheep, goats and yaks must be herded to summer pastures to produce milk and wool, and then become a valuable trade commodity. House roofs require repairs after winter. Water must be brought to the fields,  the fields fenced with stone walls, and broken bridges restored.

It is clear that most of the work will not be successful without cooperation with neighbors. Together it’s easier and faster. “Together” is necessary for survival here, because in these remote, hard-to-reach areas you can’t count on outside help.

Shimshal Valley Road

Shimshal Valley Road – perversely called the immortal road is “jeepable” or passable … only for vehicles adapted to difficult terrain. An inconspicuous, unmarked turn from the Karakoram asphalt thoroughfare leads across the bridge straight to the “low” section regularly flooded by the river. During the summer season, water takes up the road almost every afternoon – as the level rises, fed by streams of melting glaciers.

Shortly thereafter, the trail climbs to the mountain ledges. The most difficult part is the one where the narrow route was cut in almost vertical rocks 700 m above the gorge. The blind turns wind numerously, making your heart beat faster. On one side there is a vertical wall up, on the other – vertical wall down. The waters of the Shimshal River roar loudly below. Shale debris regularly slides onto the road, creating traction traps. There is no room for error. One false move and death is guaranteed. You won’t even be able to get down to retrieve the body or whatever was left from the vehicle.

The Shimshal River is to be crossed several times via wooden suspension bridges before the gorge turns into a boulder-strewn plain. The landscape suddenly becomes Martian. And only the detour marked with stones indicates that a bridge has been submerged by water again.

The kilometers seem to pass quickly. From time to time, however, the road climbs again to the ledge and here you also have to watch out for landslides – active ones that can cause further movements and those that have been repaired, which left the ground uncertain and the road uneven. Eventually the track enters the valley and the dangers are left behind

The Shimshalis built the road with their own hands. Over the years, they demanded it from subsequent governments, but all they got was a proposal of resettlement to other, more easily accessible valleys. However it was hard to leave their fatherland.

They received explosives and heavy equipment as support from Aga Khan Rural Support Program – an institution named after the spiritual leader of the Ismailis, which invested largely in the construction. All the work they had to do themselves.

For 18 years, only women took care of the families in the village. They cultivated backyard plots, groomed goats and chickens, and coordinated cattle grazing on summer pastures. The men spent their time cracking ledges in the rock high above the rushing river. They were building a path to a better future. And not everything always went smoothly. Someone took a careless step and fell into the abyss straight into the Shimshal River, and several were seriously injured in the blasts.

The first trip to Shimshal was made by 4 jeeps driven by local drivers. People in the village rubbed their eyes, unable to believe that they had finally succeeded. And they shed tears of emotion. A great festivity was organized in the village to celebrate the new beginning of life in the valley.

The opening of the road in 2003 provided people with a connection to civilization. Solar panels, cell phone towers, and a whole host of previously unavailable technology have appeared in the valley. Young people gained new opportunities for education in the city and were more willing to migrate permanently to Islamabad, Lahore and Karachi. The villages of Shimshal opened up to more tourism, and now, in addition to houses, the construction of guesthouses according to Western standards began.

Initially, only 6 vehicles could travel on this road. There were few daredevils willing to tackle technically difficult turns at heights. And able to control their emotions when they encounter an oncoming vehicle on a narrow, single lane of the road.

But in 20 years – a lot has changed here. At least 1 public transport runs into the valley every day. The shared jeep starts in the town of Ali Abad and you can buy a seat here for only $3.

Renting the whole car costs $65. Cargo jeeps are hired frequently and mainly carry construction materials, household chemicals and food that cannot be produced locally.

Privately rented jeeps with tourists also travel here, because suddenly the valley became accessible without any special effort. Getting to Shimshal in just 5 hours opens the way to numerous scenic trails, such as the week-long day trek to the Shimshal Pass.

And more and more motorcycles can be found here.

Watch our ride on Youtube:
https://youtu.be/pn6hzv12InA
https://youtu.be/JRPTrJS3iKs

Shimshal Valley Road by motorcycle

Mainly the inhabitants of the valley and the surrounding villages of the upper Hunza run  on their Suzuki GS150 on the road to Shimshal,. In rural, less accessible areas of northern Pakistan, such a motorcycle is the most popular means of transport. Locals usually ride without helmets, without protectors and wearing flip-flops – so as not to accidentally get their proper shoes wet while “rowing” their feet through streams.

The turn  (east direction) of the Karakoram Highway is few kilometers above Passu. A gravel road leads to a wide suspension bridge behind which there is the last checkpost (passport and visa must be shown).

A few kilometers further, the road goes along the Shimshal River and there is a place flooded by the river regularly. When the water level is too high for the passage, local road services appear and build the road a little higher.

Further on, the road gently climbs up with not too sharp bends. You can encounter active landslides here, which deposit locally thick gravel layers – they are not removed on an ongoing basis. These landslides do not pose a threat to cars, low motorcycles can traverse this area slowly, but riding faster in standing position is more difficult and the conditions are demanding. On this section there are also fast-flowing, although not very deep, streams on the bends.

Then the road ascends to phenomenal rock ledges. The route is incredibly scenic, unfortunately it is very narrow and has a lot of blind turns. When riding close to the walls, you have to be very careful not to hit the rocks with your side paneers. Although traffic here is not heavy, it is advisable to honk before turns and be prepared to brake on loose ground.

It is advisable for bike riders to let an oncoming vehicle pass by sticking to the rock wall and waiting until the driver outmaneuvers his vehicle.

The post Shimshal by motorcycle. How was the Shimshal valley road created? first appeared on ONE MORE ADV.