Oped»
Where there’s a wheel
- DATELINE GOKARNA
JUL 13 -
Just like the new brigade of Nepali policemen is doing in the capital, I wish I could bicycle to work: back and forth, up and down, pedaling all the way. I wish I could bicycle to the city centre and return to my home in the outskirts in the evening. I don’t particularly like the rowdy motorbikes, thanks to their growing notoriety as being altered, boisterous and theft- and accident-prone. On banda-days, however, I will have no choice but to sport the PRESS jacket motorbike to work.
I may look resourceful and privileged compared to a majority of my countrymen, but I am not. I seriously wish I could mountain-bike—and not drive a car or a motorbike—to work. That’s been my dream. But since the conditions aren’t that favorable, I haven’t dared to do so. Or have I just found an excuse to hop into a car or on a motorbike? No, definitely not.
Pollution plus
First, Kathmandu isn’t a Tarai-like flat valley. It’s got hills, ravines, mounds and, at times, back-breaking and treacherous terrain too, requiring you to go on varying gears: downhill, flat, vertical, serpentine, rugged, uphill and even extreme. A bicycle is physically demanding; and in places like Kathmandu, which remains chock-a-block with all kinds of traffic, one can imagine, it’s doubly so. You’ve to remain alert at all times.
Second, the environment is polluted, which is why you need very good eye, nose and ear protections, thanks to the worsening air quality and rising, if not worsening, levels of noise pollution. While we are comfortable with a noise intensity of 15 to 20 decibels like what prevails in our offices or newsrooms, noise pollution levels on an average Kathmandu street exceeds 80 decibels during rush hour. That’s dangerous.
A 15-year-old study showed the valley’s air and noise pollution to be well above World Health Organisation-recommended levels. Over the years, things have only gotten worse. So after a hard day’s work, bikers become dusty, muddy and sweaty, requiring them to take a really good shower. In a city that reels from water shortages pretty much all the year round, even a shower is not easy. For many, that’s a dream.
For survival during and after mountain biking, a good pair of sunglasses and a mask may help. Still, they aren’t always enough. For the ears, an iPod or mobile headphone could make matters even worse in a city where honking is common, if not a fashion. The general perception being the louder the better. To me, that’s brain-altering.
Wanted: bike trails
Third, there isn’t a single designated bicycle trail—as in Chicago’s lakeshore, Amsterdam, London or Singapore. Well, that may be going a bit too far, but we don’t have traffic rules that safeguard us bicycleriders trying to negotiate our way over medieval roads and alleyways. That’s precisely what makes bicycling absolutely unsafe, untrendy and unsexy in the city of Kathmandu.
It can’t get any worse. The traffic congestion—of rowdy motorcycles with seemingly self-operating horns, boisterous microbuses with a penchant for speeding, battered trucks, buses and taxis and footloose people—won’t let you pedal in peace.
“There are no traffic rules in Kathmandu!” a European friend remarked recently much to my discomfiture. “Nobody knows what lane driving is.”
Speechless, I pondered: Maybe the under-construction Tinkune-Surya Binayak road will teach Nepalis what on earth lane driving is all about. But even that appears unlikely unless and before the four-lane-highway (are we really prepared for it?) takes several human lives. There’s a serious lack of awareness; there’s total lawlessness.
But that doesn’t stop me from mountain biking. On days off and holidays, I pedal in peace. I mountain bike for fun, working out and sightseeing. So off I go pedaling, generally in the eastern parts of the valley: both on-road, and off-road, often doing crosscountry, uphill and downhill, as I pass through green fields, streams, woods, new towns and ancient villages.
Sometimes, I get a company of friends to pedal in unison. Often, I have no choice but to go solo, headphones stuffed into my ears. Barring a few local bicycle riders, including one or two urchins, I don’t get to see many mountain bikers. Needless to say, we are outnumbered by motorbikers.
Mecca for mountain-bikers
Occasionally, I see groups of mountain bikers heading towards Nagarkot or returning to Thamel—via Gokarna. Recently, I saw mountain bikers in Mustang doing the Annapurna Circuit, where an annual race is organised too. In Sindhupalchok, I saw a bunch of Westerners descending down the Helambu trail, their mountain bikes transported to the hilltop on a truck.
That’s precisely when I realise, Nepal is indeed a Mecca for mountain bikers. As the Tour de France progresses in France making global headlines, I wish we had a similar race right here in Nepal. How about a Tour de Nepal during Tourism Year 2011?
That sounds fantastic yet unlikely to happen given the state of affairs, given the state of public security, thanks to the never-ending political transition. Most important, where’s the investment climate? And who’s willing to put money into it all? Nobody as of now.
But in the city of Kathmandu, I wish there were bike trails—I mean mountain bike trails. I love the idea of turning Kathmandu into a cycle city by 2020, as floated in last year’s annual budget, by building bike trails along the Ring Road near Tribhuvan International Airport.
Back in 2000, the then mayor of Kathmandu had proposed developing bike trails from Maitighar to Tinkune as a pilot project. The government did, and does, have bicycle-friendly plans up its sleeve, but they have never seen the light of day. As the big metropolises around the world turn bicycle-friendly, I hope Kathmandu turns so too. Let’s hope it happens sooner. That will be a dream come true.
(The author is a BBC Correspondent)
Surendra Phuyal
nepal.surendra@gmail.com
Posted on: 2010-07-14 08:44
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