LOCALadk Magazine

36 Spring 2016 LOCALadk Magazine LOCALadk The Experience After taking more than a few minutes to properly catch our breath, we dropped our seatposts and prepped for our descent toward Beni, outside of Pokhara. Brady shouted to Salomon, "Hey, Salomon… how long are we heading down for?" "About two days!" Salomon shouted back. This summed up the sensation of mountain biking in Nepal: the terrain was bigger than anything we'd ever experienced, and ev- erything was fair game. Unlike our tightly regulated and fastid- iously maintained trail networks back home, built primarily for cyclists, Nepalese "singletrack" sections had, for many centuries, served as vital pedestrian thoroughfares linking farms and tiny villages. Trail widths doubled on sections where donkeys would transport gear and materials, and tripled where, within the last decade, all-terrain vehicles provide remote villages with elec- tricity, satellite TV, and refrigerators. Hooting and hollering, we whizzed down through trophic zones, leaving the snow behind and reentering the arid canyons of the Mustang. Trails swooped through small farm pastures and across open expanses, and a pack of wild horses charged along with us as we headed down to the shores of the Kali Gandaki River. Eventually, we rolled to a stop for refreshments in the tiny riv- erside village of Marpha, renowned for its delicious apples. Sa- lomon emerged from a tiny shop with bags of fresh apple chips, and a group of locals congregated around our steeds which were now covered with a thick layer of dust. As we prepared to saddle up, a young Nepali named Tashi emerged from the group, clearly enamored with Kenny's orange bicycle. Kenny held the bike out along with an open handed ges- ture: "Take it for a spin?" Happy to oblige, Tashi hopped on, riding circles around the marketplace, unable to wipe the massive grin off his face as his two younger brothers looked on in amazement. In spite of the obvious hardships of life in the Himalaya, we were mesmerized by the friendliness of its hardy inhabitants. Children were outgoing and curious, and extended hospitality that we'd never before experienced. A guest in many Nepali's homes is a guest sent directly from god; while on the trail we were regularly offered second or third helpings of sweet apple pancakes, deli- cious chicken curries, and warm Tibetan breads. The Aftermath Upon our return to Kathmandu days later, Rupesh, the owner of Epic Rides announced that he had a special treat for us—all we needed were our bikes and headlamps. The surprise? An urban night ride through Patan, his home neighborhood. Grinning ear to ear in true Nepali fashion, Rupesh led us on an unforgettable tour of the densely packed district. We flew around shrines and statues, buzzed through buildings and tunnels, and caught our breath while Rupesh explained the significance behind elabo- rately painted Buddhist temples which we examined by the light of our headlamps. As always, the locals we passed smiled and clapped, marveling at our rolling brigade. A few days later, after a carefree afternoon spent strolling around Khatmandu, my jet roared across the tarmac and I peered out the window, again craning my neck for a final glimpse at the Himala- ya. Eighteen hours later I switched on my phone while shuffling through customs in New York City. Messages began popping up, asking if I was all right. Friends offered sympathy to those I'd met who might have been affected by the disaster. Shocked, I asked the customs officer if he'd heard any news. "Big earthquake," he said without looking up. "High on the Rich- ter scale, they're saying. Anything to declare?" Villages we'd cycled through had been completely leveled, res- idents had been cut off from the outside world. Many of the temples we'd explored in Kathmandu, most of which had stood for centuries, now destroyed. The photos, messages and emails from Nepali friends came quickly: "Can you help us?" Our group mobilized, soliciting donations through personal blogs and put- ting together a slideshow fundraiser at the Lake Placid Center for the Arts. Raising over $5,000, we wired the money to Salo- man. Days later, he emailed us an update with photos: our funds had provided essential foodstuffs and building supplies to vil- lages that were cut off from supply chains. The most versatile vehicles for transporting and hauling provisions to those isolated hamlets? Mountain bikes. Two weeks in the Himalayas afforded us with us an ample helping of what we'd originally sought: adventures among the world's most magical mountains. Yet as our journey unfolded, it became clear that the real magic of Nepal lay not in its perpetually snow covered ridges or lush jungles, but in the hearts of the Nepalis themselves.

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