The unending exhaust fumes had also started to affect me physically. I had developed a chesty cough, and was beginning to sound a little like an Indian in my constant hawking and spitting.
Also the pollution had begun to affect my eyes. The delicate skin of my eyelids had become puffy and irritable. Far from being the bronzed and weathered road Knight, I was beginning to resemble a lizard eyed conspumtive.
But today has changed all that. I have fallen back in love with the road, and more, I took a risk and shared some rather special moments with some Nepalese guys.
Highway 1 is a long straight strip of tarmac, bisecting the lowlands of southern Nepal. It stretches almost 1000km from Kathmandu to the border town of Mahendreanager. Offshoots, both north and south, lead to other cities high up in the Himalayas, or further south closer to India.
The road is raised a metre or so above the plains, affording a good view. Until the last couple of generations, this was mostly thick jungle, but has now partly been cut back and cultivated into well tended farmland. There are still significant areas that are untouched forest in the National Parks which the road goes through.
So I followed the road, long and straight, through fields, forests, over rivers, through small towns.
There differences to a few miles over the border were huge. The traffic pollution and over crowding were quite obvious, but there were more subtle ones too - a lot less rubbish, buildings were often made out of wood rather than concrete, gardens were tended and tidy, everything seemed cleaner and more finished.
There was a slight moisture in the air, which made everything greener. That was it, everything seemed a little greener. Green trees and lush grass is something you rarely see in India.
The magic of Nepal slowly stole over me. Riding became joyful. The roads enabled speeds of over 80km in places, Traditional wood and thatched huts peeked through the trees. Small herds of goats were tended in the forest.
There were quite a few check points, manned by police and soldiers, but mostly I was just waved through. At one however I was pulled over.
'You go Butwal? I come on back, 50km', and out of uniform soldier asked.
'Erm, yeah, of course'. So I took a soldier on the back of Amblis for an hour or so.
I am heading for Pokhara, the start of the Annapurna trek, but planned to do this in 2 days, stopping at Butwal. I had different estimations from different people as to how far this was, it varied from 4 - 500km.
By about 4pm, I had only done about 350, so decided that I would find somewhere closer to hole up for the night. Right on cue, in a small villafe called Rear (pronounced Reh-Ah) sign saying hotel, pointed to a cosy, almost hobbit like mud building with a nice garden.
I pulled over. Rather confusingly, a hotel is a restaurant or cafe here. But I stopped and had a plate of 'milky rice' which was like rice pudding.
I snapped the owner, posing in his garden, and when I showed him the picture, he started giggling. Then his wife joined in, then the clients in the front, then I did as well.
Eventually we wiped our tears away. 'Guesthouse, Lahimi, 20km' he answered to my question. And 20 minutes later I pulled into the small market town and found a Lodge, which is actually a hotel.
After I had washed and changed, I headed out. 'Hey man', a young Nepalese guy called out to me. 'Lets compare phones. I have an Iphone too but no apps!' He was young, good looking, and full of vitality.
After we had chekced out each others technology, and he admired my rubber casing, he said, 'Where you going? You wanna come for a drive round town? We go slow?'
I hesitated. I had planned on just a quick walk round and then a quiet night reading and writing, but he was friendly and keen and quite laid back. Something just told me to take a chance go with the flow.
'Go on then. Lets see what happens'.
'Yeah man!' He grinned. 'I'm Santos, this is my cousin Santoosh'. He got on the back of my bike, and his cousin drove another.
We went out of town to a highpoint over looking farmland. 'This is where they will build an eye hospital. And there is the cricket ground. Over there, Poice station, and there town planning. Ok, now we go to another place'.
We headed back onto the highway, swung off, down a lane, and pulled over by the river. 'Its winter season now, so river dry' Santos explained as we took some pics.
'Next, we have some chai!' So we got back on the bikes and headed to a little cafe. The wife had a month old baby she was nursing as we drank our coffee. He wouldn't let me buy the drinks.
'Ok, back, but first we try some Lahimi food. Just snacks'. These were little puffballs stuffed with lentils and showed in a sort of salty water. 'No, you eat the like this. Whole'. he demonstrated. They were delicious. A bit like vegetarian oysters. 'No, I pay. You like peanuts? Ok, I get some, and we have back at hotel.
We stopped several times so Santos could introduce me to people. 'He my brother' he would say about everyone.
'You can come see my brother hotel. There are some respectable people there I would like you to meet'.
I let him drive out of town, down a dark track, to a small shebeen. Ducking low into the wood building, I squashed up next to three men tucking into plates of tapas and drinking amber liquid.
'You relaxed? Yes, you take some whisky? Yes, good! Ok, some meat? This is cracked rice, and chutney. No, no, I don't drink, but please you sit with respectable people!
'He is business man. He has many business. Brick factory and wood making factory. He is very important! This one is not very well, he has common cold. This one work in transport, he organises drivers',
Santos translated for all of us, explaining all about me, my job, my journey, where we had been.
Sitting there, in the smoky light of a small wood hut, somewhere in the deep heart of Nepal, drinking whisky with men happy to be in simple surroundings felt extraordinarily good. An unexpected moment of beauty, not of natures splendour, but the beauty in peoples hearts, welcoming in a stranger.
'He say, 'You are good man. You are honest and frank, you never have any trouble, people always help you', Santos translated from one of the men. 'You are happy? You are relaxed?'
I had difficulty in refusing Santos. He understood that it took quite a lot of trust for visitors to let themselves go, take a chance and connect with local people, but was also clever enough and authoritative enough to make it happen.
Eventually I was allowed back to the hotel, where I was introduced to more of his 'brothers' and we ate peanuts and chatted. He wouldn't let me pay for anything, so I gave him my Iphone case that he coveted.
'Hey man, you stay in touch yeah? We speak on phone? If I come to the UK, you help me out? Next year, you come back with girlfriend, and I sort everything!'
A rather special day which will stay with me. A joyful road and Unexpected moment. My spirits are high once again.
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