Motorcycling in India – The ExhaustNotes Blog

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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India 2025: Overpacking and the ABV Lottery

By Mike Huber

India Part IV

The next day was the day we would pick up the Royal Enfield Himalayans. I was excited to show my new riding partners the bikes, having taken them out a couple days prior. We all met at Iqbal’s motorcycle shop bright and early. As we unpacked our gear and transferred it from boxes and backpacks into the panniers and saddlebags I noticed one thing: They had a LOT of gear. This wasn’t a bad thing as I was missing a lot of necessities such as tire repair kits, jump starters, and tool bags. As I looked over at my moto and the gear I had, I realized it was pretty limited, which at first glance had me concerned but then after thinking it through I thought: How many tire repair kits do you really need?

After wrapping up the final paperwork with Iqbal, we suited up and were off. It would be a short day with just a little over four hours of riding. This was perfect, as it took an hour just to navigate through Delhi, whiz through the suburbs, and eventually find our way into the country where we could relax while riding a bit. For me, the relaxation didn’t really happen as I had no communication between the others and my phone seemed to constantly go in and out of cell coverage. This meant that I had to keep eyes on at least one of the other two to avoid drifting off and getting lost. If nothing else, it was a motivator and solid excuse for my aggressive riding. At least that’s what I told myself.

Around 1500 hours (Ed Note: That’s 3:00 p.m. for you non-Airborne guys) we decided to call it a day, get a hotel, some food, and a couple beers in a tiny town called Alawar. I say a couple of beers because the local beers (called Kingfisher) were a crapshoot with regard to how strong they were. They fluctuated between 5% and 8% ABV (alcohol by volume), so until you had one you really didn’t know which end of the spectrum you would end up on. This was a nightly roulette game where we would play “who got the 8% beer?” Over the next few weeks we all had our time with the 8% beers at one point or another. This added yet another unknown into our travel equation (as if we needed any more unknowns), but it was fun nonetheless at the end of a long riding day.

Another interesting nightly game was “which switch controls the lights?” It seemed that every room had at least two panels with a minimum of six switches per panel. This made turning the lights out each evening about as doable as solving a Rubik’s Cube (especially if you were the guy who had the 8% Kingfishers that evening).

After dinner, the Kingfishers, and solving the light switch Rubik’s Cube, I was pretty wiped out and it was time for a peaceful night’s sleep. The next day would be our first full day of riding. Although my confidence was high after Delhi’s chaotic roads, there surely would be more surprises. This would prove to be especially true as we went further into northern India’s countryside.

India Part I

India Part II

India Part III

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