On what has been their most epic motorcycle ride to date, Meraj and Johan ride to Mustang in northern Nepal all the way to the erstwhile forbidden Kingdom of Lo.
Meraj takes a few spills along the way while Johan shows off his dirt biking skills as the duo slowly make their way up via the towns of Jomsom, Kagbeni, and Markha to the Capital city of Lo Manthang and further to the Indo-TIbetan border. No roads lead to the forbidden Kingdom of Lo. And that’s the charm of it.
Once upon a time, north of the Annapurna and Dhaulagiri ranges of the upper Himalayas in Nepal, abutting the Tibetan plateau, lay a kingdom.
So remote was its location—requiring an arduous trek over some of the highest mountain passes in the world—and so fearsome the reputation of some of its inhabitants—the Tibetan Khampa warriors—that it acquired the moniker of the ‘Forbidden Kingdom of Lo.’
A place where no foreigners dared to visit, and the very existence of which was shrouded in mystery. In a valley at the Kingdom’s northernmost edge, and surrounded by citadels on hillocks in all four corners, lay the Capital city of Lo Manthang. In 1964, a brave Frenchman—Michel Peissing—found one porter willing to take him to this city: a journey that took a fortnight on foot from the city of Pokhara. Peissing’s journey, and subsequently, the six months he spent in Lo Manthang, were chronicled by the amateur anthropologist in a book, that remains to this day, the most detailed reference volume on the kingdom.
In 2019, twenty-five riders from India, astride Royal Enfield’s first honest attempt at an adventure motorcycle—the Himalayan—rode for five days over mountain trails plastered with loose gravel, over river beds scarred by gashes of gushing streams, through shin-deep sand, and over the same treacherous passes that people have navigated on foot for centuries to reach Lo Manthang.
On the way they lolled about in the hot water springs of Tatopani; marveled at the intimacy of the peaks in Kalopani; and wandered the ancient streets of Kagbeni—where salt traders on the Silk Route would break journey, before making their annual odyssey to the Indian plains. Kagbeni, known as the gateway to upper Mustang, nestled in a crevice in the Kali Gandhaki river corridor seemed like a tiny quaint hamlet to the riders.
Three days later, after they’d camped in the villages of Ghami, and Samar, and finally reached Lo Manthang, Kagbeni seemed, in retrospect, nothing short of a metropolis. Still largely removed from the wash of modern life, and access limited to a few hundred visitors every year,
Lo Manthang presented a spectacle that came as close to time travel as any of the riders imagined. In the Old City, they attended the annual Tenchi festival in which monks prayed and exhorted demons to leave the city in a ceremony that has remained virtually unchanged over the past five centuries as they have, every year, over the past five centuries.
On their final day, the riders took the high road to the Tibetan plateau and rode to the Nepal –Tibet border on the other side of which China is busy building a six-lane superhighway.
Their steeds for the ride—the RE Himalayan, the recently-released BS IV version of which comes with ABS, has a 400 cc heart, the small size of which belies its gusto and tenacity, proved to the riders’ best friend on this ride. Notwithstanding extreme weather, an all-pervasive lack of anything resembling a road, and sustained abuse, the Himalayan reduced one of the hardest amateur rides in the world, to a walk (albeit a strenuous one at that) in the park.
Given that most of the riders, much like most of their brethren in this country have diligently suffered, and unconditionally loved, the last-generation standard 350 Enfield for decades. Given that, it was appropriate, that this motley group of seasoned riders made this trip—possibly the holiest grail of motorcycle rides on the subcontinent, on this motorcycle.
Alas, making a long hard road trip on an Enfield, can no longer be worn as a badge of honour, or for that matter inexorable proof of your machismo.