Mike Huber

Huber. Michael Huber.

By Mike Huber

My apologies as my stories have been quite out of chronological order. I wrapped up ~2 months in the beautiful country of Nepal. I still have several blogs to write on Everest Base Camp and Annapurna Circuit, and my experiences with the wonderful Nepalese people. Upon completing my treks there I performed a typical “Huber” and was flipping coins more or less to find a new home. I was tired of being cold and from hiking daily. In search of a place where I could relax it seemed that Thailand checked all the boxes. Thailand has warm weather, great people, food, and I could get some more scuba diving in. Decision made.

My friend Nigel Rustage from Anum Scuba (www.anumscuba.com) has helped me find amazing live aboards before and is pretty knowledgeable on diving Thailand. Just prior to arriving in Thailand I asked if he could recommend anything. It didn’t take him long to respond with a 5 day live aboard that would provide me with 14 dives over my stay on the boat.

Once I was fully thawed out from Nepal and with a short flight to Phuket I was ready to begin diving again. As I made my way to the pier there was a beautiful wooden tall ship in the bay. Its name is The Junk. I learned it would be my new home for the next four nights. Once on the boat, which housed 22 divers normally, I found out there were only six divers on this trip. This meant we each would have our own cabins on the boat. Perfect!

The reason for the title of this blog is that The Junk was the actual boat in the James Bond movie, the Man with the Golden Gun. This made the boat even cooler in my eyes. Throughout the dive trip that thought kept popping in my head, which was really cool. With the Bond boat being my home I was ready to meet my new diving friends and spend some time underwater around the remote limestone islands that are home in this part of the country.

The next day would be busy since four dives were scheduled. I try to not do more than three dives per day as I begin to develop ear issues and the key is to be proactive and know when not to dive. Combine that with on my third dive I got caught in a current that sucked me away from the others I and was forced to resurface after just 20 minutes. Upon surfacing I could hear expletives (coming from me) echoing off the tall limestone islands that surrounded me. I was frustrated. I have had pretty much every type of mishap you possibly can have in my short 1 year of diving experience. Mishaps are what make you improve and I understand this, but was a bit distraught with myself nonetheless. It was bothering me to the point I was questioning if I should continue with this new hobby of mine.

One thing I did not want to do was quit on account of one bad dive. If I was to quit it would be after a good dive so that mentally the door for scuba diving would remain open. With the help of my new dive buddy, Danny, I regained motivation and within the next two dives had overcome the anxiety that was plaguing me. I ended the trip with only seven dives, which I was more than happy with, especially since they only improved once I got back into my rhythm.

A few days later Danny and his girlfriend Rahwa and I met up on the Pei Pei Islands and got to spend a couple days snorkeling and just hanging out around the island having a blast. Danny had been to this island 10 years prior and introduced me to a speak-easy hidden inside a scuba shop which somewhat resembled a scuba museum with a beautiful wooden bar and some fine whiskeys.

This scuba experience yet again assured my confidence in my diving abilities and the scuba community. Nigel is 2 for 2 with his recommendations so far, and my next trip here I will certainly be reaching out to him. That will most likely be sooner than later. Thanks again Nigel, Danny, and Rahwa.

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Muy Thai

By Mike Huber

Having spent over four months in Thailand I was well overdue to experience a live Muy Thai fight event in a local stadium. Last Saturday with no real plans I decided I would do just that. Rather than purchasing online I went to the local stadium, and with the help of a friend, I chatted up the stadium owner (who loved Americans). Within a few minutes we had two ringside tickets for under half the price. This was probably the only time where I received an actual “American Discount.” In all my past travels the “American Discount” resulted in a 20% price increase. Either way, I was excited to witness one of these events live.

On the way to the stadium that evening my plan was to get dinner somewhere along the way. I noticed a nice Irish Pub. I’m not one to pass up an Irish Pub, especially in Thailand where I was well overdue for a change in cuisine. Corned beef, potatoes, and a couple Chang beers was a perfect change indeed. The pub would also be a great place to hang out, eat, and talk with some locals who were also attending the event. To add even more perfection to this scene they had Moto GP on the TVs in the bar. It was the perfect environment and just a short walk to the stadium for the fights after.

As we entered the stadium and sat in our seats I began chatting up the people to my left. They were from Australia, a country I was very fond of and had traveled extensively. It didn’t take long before we were engrossed in conversations of travel, Muy Thai (which I really knew nothing about), motorcycles, and pretty much everything under the sun. I made a comment to one of the Aussies wearing a NY Yankees hat (I hate the Yankees, obviously). I gave him a hard time about the hat as we continued to joke back and forth. It turned out the Aussie with the Yankee hat was fighting that evening so it’s probably good I didn’t go too far with the berating of the stupid Yankees.

As the fights were about to begin everyone stood for the Thailand National Anthem. Instinctively I faced towards the Flag of Thailand with my hands clasped in front of me in a respectful manner. It was at this moment I noticed everyone was facing towards me and not the Flag. I quickly turned 90 degrees to face the same way as the others when I noticed why this was. In Thailand you face the giant portrait of the King during the Anthem and not the Flag. The Aussies knew this and had a good laugh as they made the same mistake during their first attendance of one of these events.

The fights were a blast to watch. The fighters were very respectful of each other and the customs of their country. We watched maybe 15 fights or so throughout the evening. Sadly, our new friend didn’t win his match, but it was cool to hear the word “Australia” mentioned over the loudspeaker amongst all the other words in Thai which I couldn’t understand. It was a pretty solid Saturday evening and I was able to check seeing a Muy Thai fight off my Thailand to do list.

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Nepal: The Everest Base Camp Trek That Never Was

By Mike Huber

Day 1

The phone in my hotel began ringing, I fumbled for the receiver as I looked at my cell phone stating the time was 00:02. I had slept pretty hard and woke up thinking I was in Marrakesh, Morocco. I had one hour remaining before my Sherpa was due to arrive at my hotel. As I became a bit more aware it hit me that none of what just went through my head made any sense. Suddenly a pounding on my hotel door began echoing through my head. Ok, it was my Sherpa, but I was in Katmandu and not Morocco. Dammit, it happened again: I lost track of where I was. To add to the matter, the Sherpa was an hour early or I was an hour late. Either way there was a gap in communication somewhere and it was time to get going.

Having just spent two days exploring and meandering through the vast number of temples in Kathmandu, the time had come for me to load up my gear and begin a 12-day trek to Everest Base Camp. Once having my wits about me and double checking all my sensitive items were in tow, my Sherpa and I began our walk to a local bus stop where we would catch a shuttle to Ramechhap Airport. My flight was set to depart at 0700 that morning.

The 5-hour shuttle ride to Ramechhap was anything but smooth. Most of the roads through this portion of Nepal were under construction so there was no sleep to be had by anyone along the ride. Eventually the rough van ride came to an end. I had arrived at Ramechhap Airport with enough time to grab myself a coffee and my Sherpa a hot tea prior to checking in for what was to be a quick flight to Lukla Airport.

Lukla is the world’s most dangerous airport. It sits at around 9,000 feet in altitude and the runway is literally a giant ramp. This airport even on good days faces some heavy dangers for aircraft due to winds and very low visibility. It is also the start for the Everest Base Camp (or summit) treks and during the high season is very bustling for such a small hub with only that one ramp of a runway.

As I checked my backpack and went through the airport security at Ramechhap I learned my flight would be delayed due to low visibility. I wasn’t thrilled but I also have the luxury of time, so there was little to do outside chat up several other travelers who were also doing the trek. As far as airport delays, this one was actually pleasant due to all these really wonderful people I was surrounded by.

As the day went on (as did the full ground stop) my Sherpa and I began to lose hope of making it to Lukla. This was a bit frustrating but out of our control, so we booked a hotel and would try again the following morning to get to Lukla. There was really nothing to do but go with the flow and enjoy some of the local food and people that were here.

Day 2

The routine was similar and again there was yet another full ground stop for fixed-wing aircraft. This time it was fog at Lukla. It was only a 20-minute flight to get there.

With many of the same people from the previous day there we all began talking and telling stories to pass the time. Some of these people chose to pay $400USD to take a helicopter into Lukla as the conditions were safe enough for them. Many of the others didn’t have that luxury of time that I did, as most were on vacation. As 1400 rolled around we knew we would not be making it to Lukla this day and yet again a hotel was the plan. We would try again tomorrow.

Day 3

This was starting to get a bit silly. The airport café guy knew my order by this point. I was one of the first people at the airport that morning and I helped with opening the gates and letting vehicles onto the airfield (I probably wasn’t’ supposed to do that). I was feeling like Tom Hanks in the movie The Terminal, but the weather looked sunny and the first couple flights had taken off. Cheers erupted through the airport and it was now our turn to board our flight. Everyone was loaded into the small prop plane and just as soon as the engines fired up they were cut. We were told to deplane and that winds kicked up again. It was our third day being scratched and although I was in no rush this scene was getting old.

Rarely do I use tourism companies but this was one time I was happy I did with all the cancellations. Kiran, the tour operator from Holiday Treks & Expeditions, took care of everything from the rebooking, to the hotels, to (sadly) my painful van ride back to Kathmandu. This made my life much less stressful and quite easy, but it didn’t look like Everest Base Camp was in the cards for me. It was a somber ride back to the city, but sharing a couple beers and jokes with my Sherpa helped keep morale up. My main objective in Nepal was to see Mt Everest and to experience the base camp trek, so I wasn’t sure what would be my next move.

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India 2025: Amritsar to Rishikesh

By Mike Huber

India Part XII

Loading the bikes the following morning, we were still basking in the Golden Temple’s magical glow. We were amped up for our next leg. This portion would be a relaxing two-day journey via Shimla to Rishikesh and would give us a glimpse of the lower Himalayan Mountain ranges. The roads would mostly be mountain twisties. This was what we wanted for riding (or so we thought).

The roads, although having great twisties, were extremely narrow. So narrow, in fact, that on more than one occasion oncoming busses would find themselves in stalemates as to who would back down and reverse to allow the other to pass. When this happened, we usually could squeeze through while they were conferring on who would back up. There also were the usual obstructions: Monkeys, cows, goats, and an occasional camel. This made for very slow going and by the end of this portion of the trip we were starting to miss the major roads we had previously ridden.

A sure way to tell you are off the beaten path is when you have to refuel your bike by purchasing fuel that is brought to you in plastic water bottles. Along these roads this refueling process became the norm, which I always find cool.

All in all it was part of the journey and we had a blast on this portion of our ride. Upon arriving in Rishikesh and seeing the Ganges River, we were exhausted and looking forward to a few down days to explore the city and have a couple of cold Kingfisher beers. I think my friend may have had another Bhang pastry as well.

The only thing I knew of Rishikesh was that the Beatles wrote most of their White Album there. We did the tourist thing and visited the Beatles’ Ashram (where they during that period). The Ashram was mostly overrun by jungle, but it was a decent side quest, and a reason to listen to the White Album that evening.

We took a different way back to our hotel from the Beatles’ Ashram. It allowed us to cross a narrow (mostly pedestrian) suspension bridge over the Ganges. We were about 100 feet above the river on this narrow bouncy bridge, moving very slowly due to the immense pedestrian traffic. It allowed us to observe Rishikesh from our high location, including the ceremonial burning of bodies along the Ganges’ banks. The crossing took about five minutes, but there was so much to take in during that five minutes that it felt as though we were on the bridge for hours. It was other-worldly, to say the least.

After reaching the other side of the bridge, we parked the motos. We sat along the Ganges and took everything in. Rishikesh was where we would begin to part ways on this journey, as my friends needed to return to Canada, their jobs, their wives, their children, and their world.

It was a crossroads for me. I didn’t have a next location or activity planned, as the trip through India during the past month had consumed every waking hour. I wasn’t concerned; this was the norm for me and I knew I would figure it out. I just didn’t expect to learn of my next destination by my phone exploding with calls in the middle of the night.

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India 2025: Amritsar and the Golden Temple

By Mike Huber

India Part XI

As we arrived back in Amritsar my friend’s eyes were returning to almost normal from his Bhang border journey that had still left him speechless. We all were still in awe from the entire border scene but we would have time to reflect on it later. Now we had to walk about two kilometers from our hotel to the Golden Palace and experience having dinner there. It wasn’t quite like anything we expected.

As we entered the grounds of the Golden Temple we had to check our shoes at the gate and place a hat on our heads to adhere to the Temple’s dress code. The temple and surrounding buildings were so lit up (not as lit up as my friend at the Pakistani Border, but lit up nonetheless). We walked around the inner walls of this magnificent building and eventually made our way to what seemed to be a huge dining hall. We learned this temple provides free food to 100,000 people every day! It is the single largest free kitchen in the world.

Once in the dining hall we were given a metal tray, some utensils, and a cup. We simply followed the people in front of us into an even larger room where there were just rows and rows of people sitting down on the floor, eating and drinking. After we sat down it was only a few moments before a server came by with a giant ladle and plopped some food onto our tray. There were a few servers dishing out rice, water, bread, and a sauce. For the amount of people there this setup was extremely efficient, to the point that once we were finished with our first portion, seconds were just a few moments away. The food was very satisfying and by the time we each had consumed two or three servings, we were set to get up and drop our trays and utensils off at the dishwasher counter.

After dinner we spent about an hour or so just admiring the beauty of this massive architectural structure. It was quite a sight and it was one of those places that really had its own pulse. The temple had a presence you could feel.

It was quite an eventful day in Amritsar. We retired to our rooms to get some sleep and prepare for the next day’s adventure.

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India 2025: Amritsar and the Pakistani Border

By Mike Huber

India Part X

Shaking off the continual feeling of being around rats, we began a 4-hour drive to Amritsar. It was crucial we get there early, as our plan was to Uber 45 minutes to the Pakistani Indian border for the closing ceremony. From what I had heard, it was just an insane spectacle to witness. Our ride was almost uneventful this day. Almost.

Around 10:00 a.m., we were still within the state of Rajasthan and we pulled over in a bustling city for a coffee break. It didn’t take too long before we were surrounded by locals wanting selfies of us and asking a lot of questions. This was mostly normal for us although it did seem at this particular stop there was an alarming amount of people surrounding us (not just the usual five or so). Within a few minutes, three serious looking men sat at our table and began asking some deeper questions than the normal chit chat. They asked to see our passports and stated they were Indian Federal Police. I am not sure why but I replied with “Show me yours first.” Which they did. Okay. It seems we were in a tourist forbidden zone as we were just a few kilometers from the Pakistani Border, which in Rajasthan was not a good thing (in Amritsar this was a non-issue).

Not wanting to lose physical control of our passports we chatted them up and in unison began to de-escalate the situation. This took about 10 minutes of back and forth as two more Federal Authorities joined in the questioning. There had been no signs or warnings stating this was a non-tourist area. I guess it was just common knowledge to most (the common knowledge we sort of lacked). Eventually the situation worked itself. They offered to buy us another coffee, but we thought it best to continue to Amritsar and not test our luck any further. We mounted our Royal Enfields and were on our way.

Shortly after we arrived in Amritsar without any further issues, we parked the bikes and paged an Uber to go to the Pakistani Border. Along the ride my riding friend in the front seat ate what seemed to be his baked goods from the Bhang shop (he bought these two days ago). He was talking to the Uber driver about pretty much everything under the sun as he wolfed down his pastry or whatever it was. I found it odd yet entertaining and his banter helped pass the drive until we pulled into the parking garage and began our short walk to what looked like a giant stadium.

There were thousands of Indians entering the long tunnel to the stadium interior. The really cool thing about this experience is that as foreigners we were treated as VIPs and given the best seats in the house. We were only 10 meters from the Pakistan border. This was after three different security and passport checks. Once we were seated we noticed it would be more than an hour before the ceremony started, but that made no difference to those on the India side as music was thumping through the speakers, and people were selling popcorn, sodas, Indian Flags, and all kinds of souvenirs. It was like being at Fenway Park but with much more going on in every direction.

As the time drew near for the ceremony, we could see through the fence that the Pakistani side was filling up. They had their own music thumping. Meanwhile, on the India side, there was a “ring announcer” riling up all those on the India side to include hundreds in a massive mosh pit on the stadium floor.

While these pre-ceremony festivities were occurring, I kept looking to my friend on my left. His eyes seemed a bit…well, off, and he was acting a bit freaked out. I nudged him to ask what he thought of the show. He could barely reply. He finally said, “There sure is a lot going on here.”

It took me a bit to finally pull out of him what was going on. The Bhang shop pastries were a type of legal edible marijuana, and he had consumed a rather large portion during the Uber ride in. My friend was higher than a cat on acid, at the India/Pakistan border, while all these activities occurred. Oh, man, it must have been a hell of a show for him. For me, even without the pastry, it was probably the craziest thing I have ever witnessed. Each stadium grew louder and louder. The only analogy I have is this: Picture Giants Stadium cut in half with two football games going on simultaneously, and being on the 50-yard line.

Fortunately for loaded friend, once the actual border ceremony began the ambiance began to tame down somewhat as the soldiers each performed their border closing duties (to include a halftime moment of them shaking hands with a short bow to one another). The flags of each country were lowered, carefully folded, and the ceremony came to a close. My friend’s eyes were about as wide as you can imagine throughout it all. We made our way back to the Uber for a relaxing 45-minute ride back to our hotel.

The day was far from over as we were to have dinner at the Golden Palace that evening.

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India 2025: Karni Mata Temple (the Rat Temple)

By Mike Huber

India Part IX

After ensuring we didn’t have any tails on us from our highway escapades, it was a short turnaround at the hotel before a visit to a temple in Deshnoke. I had heard much about this temple over the years and really wasn’t sure what to expect. What was urban legend and what was actually the truth surrounding this strange place? This temple was named the Karni Mata Temple, or as it is better known, the Rat Temple.

Well, it turns out this temple is everything I imagined it would be, but actually experiencing it was something for which none of us were prepared. Karni Mata is a Hindu Temple that believes rats are the reincarnated souls of a local story teller family that died during a famine. The rats are everywhere. There are just thousands all over and they are fed quite well. There are even several troughs for them to eat out from, and donations of grains and milk are frequently left to appease these local deities.

To add to the cringe factor, you must remove your shoes to enter the temple. As we removed our shoes and began our walk down the long hallways, out of the corner of my eye I would see things scurrying from left to right, and then right to left, and then just everywhere. After entering the temple, there are several long hallways with raised troughs that the rats climb up to eat grains and seeds. Every corner we cautiously walked around we would just see more and more rats. Surreal doesn’t begin to describe the place. The rats are so well fed, however, that when walking around the other parts of the city there wasn’t a rat to be seen. It seems they all stay in the temple. With such an abundance of food, why not? This didn’t help us get to sleep any easier, though, as our hotel was across the street from the temple.

We weren’t getting nearly as much sleep as we wanted (due to the temple’s close proximity) and we were anxious to get out of town and put as many kilometers between us and the rats as possible. Nonetheless, the temple was an experience to be had that few people get the opportunity to embrace.

Our next stop would be Amritsar, including a special trip to the Pakistan/India Border Closing Ceremony and the famous Golden Palace. This would prove to be one of our more adventurous days in India, in more ways than one.

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India 2025: Bhang, Construction, and Unwelcome Highways

By Mike Huber

India Part VIII

Awakening the following morning (still with some uneasiness from our close encounter the previous day), it took more than one coffee to jar us back into the present and rid yesterday’s cobwebs. We had a full day planned and although weren’t rushed, we wanted to get moving to ensure we could fit everything in.

Our first stop was a beautiful fort in Jaisalmer. This was an incredible structure from every angle. Forts in Rajasthan all dominate each city’s backdrop. While this was an incredible location and area, I couldn’t help but notice when we parked one of the guys slyly snuck off and went into a small store. The sign said “Govt. Authorized Bhang Shop.” He returned with what looked like a pile of cookies so I assumed it was just some Indian bakery and didn’t give it any more thought. We took a few photos and then it wasn’t too much longer until we were on our way further north.

As we continued north we encountered a nasty patch of construction. The construction dragged on for over an hour. There was nothing but breathing in dust, and loose gravel challenging our ability to remain upright. Upon nearing the end we stopped for a quick bottle of water, and we were relieved to see the highway ramp that would take us about 50 kilometers to our destination to wrap up the day. The entertainment at this stop was a guy who was beyond hammered. He could barely stand, much less form any sort of sentence (in English or Hindi). We did our best to ignore him prior to saddling up and making our way toward the highway.

As we approached the entry gate to the highway the person controlling the gate wasn’t going to let us on and I knew right away this was one of those highways where motos were not allowed. Instantly, the thought of having to return for another hour of riding through construction popped into my head, and I could see the same wash over my friends’ faces as well. Just as we were about to concede, who comes stumbling up but the drunk from the rest stop, more animated than ever. He nudged the toll worker aside and raised the gate himself for us to pass under. Just like that, we were on our way.

We were each pretty happy to not be revisiting that construction mess and the highway conditions were pristine. There was minimal traffic with new pavement. Life was good, obviously too good, and I knew that somewhere between our current location and the 50 kilometers we had remaining that we would be paying for this one way or another. I noticed the other vehicles looking intently at us and of course there were no other motos on the highway.

The 50 kilometers went by fast and as we took our exit we saw another gate which was closed and a couple people coming out to “greet” us. They spoke no English but it was clear they wanted us to turn around. Turning around made no sense to any of us. It was like doing the same violation, but twice. After we took turns with our failed attempts to get them to raise the gate (and with turning around a hard no for a solution) we spotted a sidewalk with no gate. This would be our new exit. We quickly took the initiative to exit the highway using the sidewalk. The workers were chasing us with pens and paper in a failed attempt to write our license tag numbers down. What we did sounds a bit dodgy, but I solely blame it on the drunk guy who originally raised the gate. Either way, we made great time, had a story, and to the best of my knowledge, none of us got in any trouble for it. We needed that extra time, too, as it was late in the day and we still had one more Temple to visit: The Rat Temple.

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India 2025: Om Banna

By Mike Huber

India Part VII

The number of temples and shrines we visited throughout Rajasthan in India had become mind boggling. They each had their appeal and draw for one crowd or another. It seems as though there was a temple for everyone, and as soon as I began wondering just how far apart and diverse the temples were we pulled into one that finally fully resonated with all of us. It was the Temple of Om Banna.

This wasn’t just any temple. Temple Om Banna is a temple dedicated to fallen motorcycle riders and to provide a safe journey blessing for all travelers. As legend has it in 1988, a motorcyclist lost control of his Royal Enfield here and hit a tree and was instantly killed. His motorcycle ended up in a nearby ditch. The police recovered it and brought it to their station. The following day the motorcycle was missing from the police station and rediscovered back where it had originally crashed. This happened several times until the locals declared this a miracle and the Om Banna Shrine was created.

The Shrine is located right off the highway and is hard to miss with all the food carts, people, and yes, motorcyclists. It is said that travelers who do not stop at this Temple will have bad luck for the continuation of their journey. Not wanting to have any bad luck (and more importantly, to check out this cool temple) we quickly pulled in on our Royal Enfields.

There were probably a couple hundred people there as we entered the open air temple. There was incense burning and just a few meters past that we could see the Royal Enfield encased in glass with offerings surrounding it. These offerings included food, money, and small liquor bottles (makes sense right?). The entire scene was surreal. The motorcycle did seem to have a life of its own. I am not sure if it was just from the ambience surrounding it or if it was indeed a miracle we were gazing upon. Either way, the temple was something that we each connected with in our own way and in our own space.

Upon packing up to leave one of my friends decided he would go ahead of us and get some kilometers in as he was a faster rider and would find a hotel for us for that evening. The rest of us were in no rush and decided to get off the highway to just go slower and take in the countryside. We were all pretty relaxed as another busy day was winding down. It seems that anytime riding in India, as soon as you lower your guard India feels it, and will throw something at you as a reminder to respect your surroundings.

The two of us were on a long straight. My friend was leading as I was gazing outward I saw something dart under my friend’s moto. Whatever it as it was for a moment was consumed underneath the bike and seemed to have disappeared. By the time this all processed (split seconds) I realized it was a small child that was being called by her sibling on the other side of the road. The child was underneath the bike from my perspective. My mind quickly raced through about 100 different reactions and emotions. It seems I blinked and then the child reappeared on the other side of the motorcycle still running, seemingly oblivious to what had almost happened. Neither of us could fully process how the child wasn’t killed or injured in anyway. It was just that close.

We both pulled over instantly. My friend needed about 10 minutes and a call to his family back in Canada to calm down and process what had happened, or almost happened. Once having regained our composure we began the short and very quiet ride to our hotel where we met up with our friend. He instantly could tell something was up as we pulled into the hotel. When he asked what as up the only reply I could say was “Om Banna.”

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India 2025: Jain Temples, Crowds, and More Culture Shock

By Mike Huber

India Part VI

Waking up the next day was a little bit easier. This was due to the fact there were only three switches on the wall. Much easier than the usual 100+ switches in the previous hotels. In those I wasn’t sure if I was turning on a fan, light, or launching an Apollo mission. I was even able to find the switch for the water heater to have a nice hot shower. After a short walk to obtain some much-needed caffeine and having the Royal Enfield Himalayans loaded, we were ready to head out and kick the day off.

Today was going to be about 250 kilometers of riding to the small town of Bhilwara. Along the way we would visit one of the very few Jain temples in India. Upon arrival, we instantly noticed the amount of detail on everything. The temple was more than one can comprehend in just a short visit.

We enjoyed soaking in the culture both from the temple and the locals taking more selfies of us. After a bit, it was time to start moving as we had one more temple to visit and a 2-hour ride to where we planned to stay for the evening.

The next temple was only about 10 minutes away but Google routed us through a local bazaar. Thankfully we didn’t attempt anything like this on Day 1 in India, as it would have been more than overwhelming. I figured this would start getting interesting as soon as the streets began to narrow and the crowds filled in. I cannot find a comparison other than to imagine driving through the 2004 Red Sox World Series Celebration at Government Center in Boston. Packed doesn’t even begin to describe it. Normally I would have thought motos weren’t supposed to be driving through here but with seeing one or two other motorcycles (other than us) I figured we weren’t doing anything too bad.

The ride was tight. We slowly made our way through the crowd with a constant honking and a light nudge of a pedestrian or three until we finally arrived at the temple. We weren’t quite swarmed by people looking for selfies but there were crowds everywhere around us. As always, they were super friendly so we took our time with each group and chatted with them on where we were from and where we were going.

Once we took a short tour of the temple and were asked for a bunch more selfies, it was time to head back on the road and the path to that road, you guessed it, it was through the same bazaar we squeezed through on the way in. By this time we were familiar with how to negotiate through the crowd and we did so.

As we approached Bhilwara we were more than ready to get off the bikes and get some dinner. Well, India had different plans for us. It turns out Bhilwara (as with other small towns we would learn) requires the hotels to file paperwork with local authorities for foreigners. Normally this isn’t too big a deal, but in this case none of the hotels in this town had the proper paperwork, nor did they seem too motivated to obtain it. This forced us to drive another hour until we were in a more populated area where we could finally rest for the evening. We were cutting it close with time as the bright red sun was just beginning to set as we pulled into the hotel. This was a fine way to wrap up another day motorcycling through India.

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