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The fun started on the way from the airport to familiarise ourselves with our motorcycle, the traffic was very busy and chaotic and the minivan we were travelling on was involved in an accident with a motorcycle, it wasn’t serious, but set the tone.

The Royal Enfield’s had a kick start, the gears on the opposite side and upside down, and brakes which, to put it mildly, required more anticipation than on a modern bike. Nevertheless, we got to grips with them and arranged for an early start (6:30) the following day. There were eight holidaymakers, a guide at the front of the convoy, two guides at the rear, and a van with spares, medical equipment and our luggage completed the entourage.

The first day there was a lot of confusion with the controls, which in turn led to a lot of stalling, some of it at very inopportune moments. I managed to stall in very heavy traffic going round a bad accident up a steep mountain pass with an irate bus behind me. The first day also gave us our first experience of a large town with its dogs, pigs, chickens, goats, sheep, motorised rickshaws, sacred cows, bullock carts, trucks, cyclists, buses all seemingly driving at random. The trick is to understand that the horn replaces most of what we would consider to be the ‘rules of the road’. We all survived our first town, and when we stopped shortly afterwards were grinning from ear to ear.