Riding East: Kathmandu to Bhutan — Part 1

Part 1: Kathmandu to Thimphu

In early June, what started as a casual conversation with a friend turned into one of the most exhilarating motorcycle adventures I’ve ever embarked on. This wasn’t just any ride — this was a journey from our homes in Kathmandu, across the rolling hills of eastern Nepal, through the lush tea estates of Darjeeling, the misty ridges of Sikkim, and into the mystical kingdom of Bhutan.

I was riding with none other than RJ — Rajesh Magar — Nepal’s champion mountain biker, motorcyclist, and a longtime friend. RJ and I have explored trails and roads together for years, but this one felt different. It was long. It was uncertain. And it was wild.

The Idea is Born

The idea for this ride took shape during a call with Pelden Dorjey — Bhutan’s reputed tourism entrepreneur who runs motorcycle and mountain bike tours across the country. I’d been seriously considering expanding Himalayan Rides to include motorcycle tours in Bhutan, and the best way to do that was to ride the roads ourselves — experience the terrain, the people, and the spirit of the land firsthand.

To prep, I had recently purchased a CFMoto 450MT, an incredibly capable midweight ADV bike, perfect for long-distance touring. RJ would ride my Royal Enfield Himalayan 450 — not brand new, but bought last year and still in excellent condition. We fine-tuned the bikes, packed our gear, and rolled out of Kathmandu.

Day 1: Kathmandu to Dharan — ~375 km

Our exit from Kathmandu was classic: slow-moving traffic, rough construction zones, and swirling dust. We pushed through Dhulikhel, where road widening works are ongoing, and then joined the Madan Bhandari Highway — a refreshingly quiet and scenic route that runs east through Nepal’s mid-hills.

This highway was a revelation. Newly built, flowing curves, almost no traffic — it was the kind of road that makes your throttle hand itch. By late afternoon, we descended into Dharan, nestled at the foot of the hills, marking the transition from mountain to Terai.

After a long day of riding, we were starving — and Dharan delivered. The local kalo sungur (black pig) is a delicacy, and we didn’t hold back. Spicy, fatty, and grilled to perfection — it was everything a rider needs after 9 hours in the saddle.

Highlight of the day? Watching RJ gracefully (or not) crash right in front of a gas station crowd. He lost traction coming out of the station and toppled over in slow motion — a harmless but hilarious moment that earned a round of applause from amused onlookers.

Day 2: Dharan to Rimbick (Darjeeling) — ~190 km

We ditched the congested East-West Highway in favor of hidden backroads that wove through rural eastern Nepal. The smaller roads meant fewer trucks and better scenery — misty forests, quiet farmland, and the occasional curious villager wondering what two fully-kitted riders were doing in their neck of the woods.

Eventually, we had to merge with the main highway for a short stretch before climbing toward Pashupatinagar, a laid-back border town in the hills. We crossed into Darjeeling district, where the atmosphere changed instantly — cooler air, thick forest, and hillsides quilted in tea plantations.

The roads narrowed dramatically as we climbed, and traffic became a chaotic mix of honking jeeps, reckless taxis, and wide-eyed tourists. Despite the madness, the ride was gorgeous.

Our stop for the night was Rimbick, a small, scenic town sitting at around 2,300 meters elevation. We were welcomed by Tenzing Chombay Sherpa, a local legend in the Darjeeling adventure sports scene. His beautiful home sits perched on a hilltop with views across the valley. Warm smiles, hot tea, and hearty food made us feel instantly at home.

Day 3: Rimbick to Darjeeling — ~55 km

We had a lazy morning. The short ride to Darjeeling let us enjoy the narrow, twisty mountain roads without rushing. Darjeeling still retains its charm in pockets, but overall, the town felt a bit worn — crowded, noisy, and a little overwhelmed by unchecked tourism.

We ended the day with a visit to the iconic Glenary’s Bar, a British-era relic turned backpacker hotspot. What should’ve been a quiet drink turned into an unexpectedly wild night when we ran into a group of old acquaintances. RJ spent a good chunk of the evening explaining to a very enthusiastic tourist that we weren’t mercenaries on a secret military scouting trip — a new and creative conspiracy theory to add to our growing list.

Day 4: Darjeeling to Gangtok — ~100 km

Motorcycles give you a superpower in congested hill towns: the ability to sneak out through shortcuts. We zigzagged our way out of Darjeeling through locals-only lanes and barely-paved alleyways, escaping the morning jam with minimal drama.

The road to Gangtok, Sikkim’s capital, was beautiful but challenging — steep ascents, sharp switchbacks, and plenty of blind corners. The scenery was lush and dramatic, with glimpses of the Teesta River snaking far below.

At the Rangpo entry checkpoint, we cleared basic vehicle checks (no international driving permits needed for Nepali citizens) and rolled into Gangtok by afternoon.

Here, I had a long-overdue reunion with Nishad Subba, a friend I hadn’t seen since 1998 when we trained together at the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute. Nishad now works at the local university, and despite the time gap, we picked up right where we left off. He took us to one of Gangtok’s best restaurants, where the food was phenomenal and the beer flowed like we were still college kids.

Day 5: Gangtok to Jaigaon — ~225 km

This day brought the wrath of the monsoon.

As we descended from the Sikkim hills into the plains of West Bengal, the skies opened up. Sheets of rain pelted us nonstop. Visibility dropped, and trucks loomed like ghosts through the mist. It was sweaty, slippery, and occasionally nerve-wracking.

We finally reached Jaigaon, the Indian town bordering Bhutan, by late evening. Jaigaon is what you’d expect from a major border hub — a little chaotic, a little rough, and a place you don’t stick around longer than necessary. We dried ourselves and rested up, excited for what lay ahead.

Day 6: Jaigaon to Thimphu — ~165 km (Plus a 400 km Detour)

Our plans for an early start fell apart fast.

Turns out we had a problem with our passport immigration stamps from a previous Indian entry — an error that only came to light that morning. What followed was a wild day of confusion, back-and-forth calls, and a massive 400 km detour to fix the issue at a distant immigration office. The entire ordeal took six hours, tested our patience, and left us drained.

Meanwhile, our Bhutanese guide Sherap — who had been waiting patiently for us on the Bhutanese side in Phuentsholing — remained in good spirits. Unlike most guides, Sherap wasn’t in an SUV. He was on a Royal Enfield Himalayan 411, already geared up and ready to ride with us through his home country.

Just before the border gate closed for the day, we finally rolled into Bhutan.

Even in our frazzled state, the change in energy was immediate. The air felt cleaner. The roads smoother. The streets, quiet and orderly. We didn’t linger in Phuentsholing — instead, we joined Sherap and began the late-night ride toward Bhutan’s capital, Thimphu.

The climb through Gedu and Chukha was surreal — mist-covered roads, sharp turns, and deep forest all around. We reached Thimphu just after midnight, exhausted but absolutely elated. Our first meal in Bhutan? The classic: spicy Ema Datsi and hot, crispy Shyabhaley at a local diner that stayed open just for us.

To Be Continued…

Six days. Over 1,100 kilometers. Rain, delays, detours, crashes, reunions — and the warmest hospitality from strangers and old friends alike. The road to Bhutan was no straight line, but every twist and turn made it unforgettable.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where we finally get to explore Bhutan’s winding roads, high mountain passes, and sacred valleys — riding deep into a country few have experienced from the saddle of a motorcycle.