morocco dades gorge

Sand Dunes & Souks

It goes without saying that 2020 has not exactly been the year for international travel, with or without a motorcycle. The world grinding to a halt has brought uncertainty and frustrations to many of us and as a keen motorcycle traveller, who loves nothing more than making a beeline for Folkestone and the Channel Tunnel when the summer arrives, I’ve certainly felt this. That said, the change in pace has brought its advantages and a chance to reflect on past trips. I recently found myself flicking longingly through photos of Morocco which I visited in September and October 2019 just before all the borders closed. Whether you are a seasoned traveller of the Maghreb, or you have Morocco on the bucket list, I hope you find my experiences of this wonderful country interesting.

Having seen a fair amount of Europe on the bike, I was keen to venture a little further from home. Morocco had really appealed to me for some time, mainly because I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I booked three weeks off work and set sail on the Santander ferry from Plymouth. Not owning a ‘proper’ adventure bike, the trip was done on my Yamaha FZ8. Absolutely no off-road capability, questionable luggage-carrying capacity, and high mileage from being used as my commuter made it an interesting choice, but it had two wheels and an engine so it was good enough for me. Also, it was my only option!

Rif mountains.

The first part of the trip was fairly standard, the 24-hour crossing the Bay of Biscay, then making my way down through Spain, stopping in Burgos, Madrid, Malaga and finally in Algeciras. I had made the decision not to camp on this trip so was booking cheap hostels along the way. Algeciras was the destination as it was here I planned to make the crossing to Africa. On approach to the port town there are dozens of kiosks and travel agents advertising crossings to Tangier Med, meaning there is no need to book from home and making it very easy to remain flexible. I was lucky enough to find a very helpful agent who booked me a flexible ticket both ways and even threw in a free bottle of wine. I chose a cheap hostel overlooking the port and took an early crossing the next day.

My first night’s accommodation was in Chefchaouen, the ‘blue city’. I had met up with another solo traveller on the ferry and we decided to grab lunch in Tangier, a 45km drive around the N16 coastal road from Tangier Med. The first five miles out of Tangier Med make you feel a long way from home – just two hours on a ferry and you have arrived in a totally different world. The crowds lining the sides of the main roads, the small shacks and the barren landscape are a far cry from the relative greenery and affluence you left behind in Western Europe a few hours ago. Shortly after, we went our separate ways and I joined the N2, winding my way through the northern Rif Mountains into the touristy blue town. On arrival in Chefchaouen, and like most major towns and cities, you are unable to get anywhere near the centre with your vehicle, which is where most of the hotels are. Tipping a local to help you find a safe spot for the bike and your way to the hotel is a wise move, as the old streets can be maze like.

 

Todra river.

One night in the blue city was more than enough. The town that looks so idyllic on Instagram exposed as some old building painted blue in real life, and the small narrow streets are plagued by tourist overcrowding. I took the backroads to Fes from here, avoiding the signposted main roads and opting instead for the R408, a very rural back route.

This was a good move as it was quiet, beautiful and full of small communities where you see the real Morocco. Stopping anywhere near these villages attracts a crowd in seconds which at first can seem intimidating, but you soon realise that the locals just want to say hi and be friendly.

Arriving in Fes, I was hailed by a parking attendant and ushered into his car park. This seemed a bit of a con at first, but I accepted, paid and tipped him an extra 10 Dirham (80 pence) to look after my bike whilst I spent a couple of days in the city. This tip turned out to be the bargain of the holiday. On my return he was very proud to show me that he had remodelled his corrugated iron barn around my chained-up bike. Slightly embarrassed of having doubted the man, and humbled by his generosity and hard work, I tipped him again before loading the bike up and heading out into the Sahara. The cities are full of people who will harass you for money and it’s wise to be vigilant to this, but you will be bowled over by how kind the vast majority of people in this country are to travellers. Fes is a fascinating place to spend some time if you want a break from the bike, with plenty of interesting attractions and activity to fill a rest day.

It was after leaving Fes that the fun motorcycling really started. The N13 heads south from the city and is a fantastic road with long sweeping bends that take you into the peaks and give the full view of the vast desert you are passing through. I continued this road to Errachidia and onto Merzouga the following day. The latter part of this turns into long straight desert roads which can be a bit of a slog in the heat, but it is worth heading south to experience the vast sand dunes and rolling desert scenery.

Touring in Morocco on my FZ8

Another must see whilst in this part of the country is the Todra Gorge, with its single-track mountain roads through the vast canyon of the Todra river and the famous mountain pass of Dadès Gorge. Even in peak season, these roads are reasonably quiet and are the perfect playground on two wheels. The scenery will take your breath away around every corner too.

After a couple of days of exploring mountain passes, only to eventually discover they turned to gravel tracks and turning back (on account of my lack of knobbly tyres), I picked up the famous Tichka pass, which takes you north from the Atlas mountains and into Marrakesh. I was looking forward to Tichka, but had unfortunately timed it with some fairly major resurfacing work, meaning dozens of harsh gravel sections which were causing punctures in trucks and 4x4s. Miraculously I made it through without an issue and into the city. Biking through this bustling city in the heat was not an experience I would repeat in a hurry. On approach I was harassed by kids on mopeds trying to sell me directions, something which was made worse when a local crashed into the back of my bike as I stopped to avoid a pedestrian. Fortunately, we were both okay and there was no damage.

It was in Marrakesh that I decided to wander the souk, an experience I would highly recommend. Largely unchanged in format for centuries, the souks are a labyrinth of stall traders and a fascinating insight into Moroccan culture. As I have a love of cooking, I treated myself to a traditional Moroccan tagine. Looking back, buying fragile cookware when you’re a thousand miles away from home on a motorcycle, isn’t the most sensible thing to do. And in a scene which wouldn’t have been out of place in a ‘Top Gear’  special, I found myself disposing of some of my best Primark apparel to accommodate it in the top box. I was extremely pleased, and shocked when I unpacked it in Reading with not so much as a chip on it.

The day had arrived for me to head for the port and back to Europe. I had seen the best bits and always planned for a day of motorways, it seemed a fair trade off for more time in the Atlas Mountains and rest days exploring the cities. The port at the weekend is far busier and chaotic than during the week, with ferry timetables seeming to go out the window and boats missing their arrival time slots the journey back to Spain took just shy of 12 hours, and I arrived in the early hours of a Monday morning. I had enough time during the final leg of the tour to ride round the Algarve before heading North through Portugal, crossing Northern Spain, into the Picos and back to Santander for the sail home. I arrived back home late Sunday night before dragging the bike back out for the Monday morning commute up the M4 into London, still covered in red Saharan dust.

Fantastic roads, unbelievable scenery, a warm and welcoming culture and great value for money means I’d highly recommend Morocco as a biking destination. One of the best things about motorcycle travel for me is the feeling of how joined up the world really is, and this is hard to ignore after a trip to this amazing country. You can leave your home in the UK, jump on your bike and a few days later be riding past some sand dunes in the Sahara Desert. There are a few ferries and a bit of paperwork to navigate in between but it really is that simple. You do not need any expensive equipment or special vehicle to visit Morocco – I am a firm believer that the best Adventure motorcycle is the one stood in your garage – just a bit of common sense and a thirst for adventure.

A few tips for first time visitors:

Motor Insurance and Currency
The Moroccan Dirham is a closed currency, meaning it cannot be bought outside of Morocco. Entering Tangier, you will see kiosks selling the Dirham which is roughly 12 to the Pound.

On arrival the port authority will ask for your V5 and they will issue you with a small card. Use this at a kiosk in the port to buy your Motor Insurance, which cost 30 Euros for 10 days. Periodic police checkpoints in Morocco will ask you for this card so keep it somewhere handy. Most checkpoints wave you through and if they do stop, they are very friendly with no issues.

Accommodation
Accommodation is inexpensive in Morocco. Even in the relatively touristy rural areas of High Atlas and Dadès Gorge, you can get a nice room with breakfast and dinner included for around 25 euros. I was in Morocco in late September and early October, one of the most popular times with travellers avoiding the height of the summer and never struggled with finding somewhere. I tended to book a day ahead online but had a couple of times where I just found somewhere en-route.

It’s worth checking out the Riads. These tend to be family run and have 2-3 rooms. The hosts I met were incredibly accommodating, and they were great value for money. A great way to get a more local feel and some delicious home cooking.

Food and Drink
You will find plenty of roadside restaurants, and supermarkets are common in the towns for lunch on the go. For those worried about food hygiene, most traditional Moroccan dishes are slow cooked so I had no real issues. Avoid salads and drink bottled water only. Hotels and restaurants do not serve alcohol, but it’s easily found in supermarkets if you want a few cans.

Local driving
As you can probably imagine, the driving standards are not quite on par with, say, TVAM standards. There are broadly two types of vehicle to watch out for, the 40-year-old Mercedes van with four odd wheels carrying 8 tons of luggage on the roof, and the highly impatient tourist minibuses. Neither want to wait for you, or get out of the way, and neither will factor their vehicle’s limitations into their overtakes. Go round every corner expecting the worse and be ready to back off. If you brave the motorway for whatever reason, be extra careful.

The road quality is also worth mentioning. The surface is generally good, however I encountered lots of road improvement works which see you sent out onto a gravel track for a short stretch. I was on road BT023 Battlax sport touring tyres on the Fazer and was fine but keep this in mind, both when riding and deciding whether to pack for puncture repairs. If you are on a bike with off-road capability this should be no problem at all.

Safety
As a precaution I kept my camera in my lockable top box and all my documents, money and phone in my tank bag which I never left behind…exactly the same as I would at home. I took a lightweight lock and used it but rarely felt like it was necessary.

In terms of personal safety, I never felt at risk in the rural areas. Wandering around the cities alone at night is not advisable, particularly in Fes. If you want to go out to a restaurant, your hotel will arrange someone to take you and bring you back.

Andy Barnes

First published in Slipstream November 2020

Resources
Morocco Overland by Chris Scott is a great book to have whilst planning your trip. Geared up to those going off the tarmac but also extremely useful if you just plan to stay on it!

Bullets, Camels, Elephants & Tigers (Part 2)

The next morning our departure was delayed due to lots of local families wanting to speak English and have their photos taken with us and the bikes. Eventually we left and rode on to Jodhpur, known as the Blue City, where we had a tour of Mehrangarh Fort, one of the largest forts in India, which from a distance looks as though it is carved out of the mountain.

Then back on our Bullets, which by now felt like old friends, and a leisurely ride to Chandelao, where we found our next hotel, which was like a converted palace. This evening we had time to walk around the village, which was obviously very poor but where the locals were so friendly and welcoming.

The following morning we couldn’t wait to mount our bikes again for the next stage of the adventure. It didn’t disappoint, wiith another great mix of road types, from newly-constructed tarmac to complete off-roading going through many very poor villages where the local children would run out to wave and shout. By early afternoon we had arrived at our next hotel in Ranakpur and after an excellent lunch and a rest we had a very different mode of transport – an open top, 4×4,  8 -eater Maruti (Suzuki) Gypsies – which took us on a safari into the foothills looking for leopards.

The next day took us on real mountain roads full of hairpin bends and again the Bullets excelled themselves. We reached Udaipur and our lakeside hotel where we stayed for 2 nights and took in lots of sightseeing, some with guides and some on our own.

Leaving Udaipur we again rode lots of mountain roads then a stretch of off-roading to reach a lakeside restaurant for lunch and relaxation before pushing on to Bijaipur and a converted Maharaja’s palace, which was to be our next hotel.

Pachewar Fort was our next destination, and the mix of roads was possibly even better than any we had done so far; up and down mountains on hairpins, great open roads with linked bends, a long off-roading section then crossing the top of a dam via the service road which included negotiating a railway line without a level crossing.

The Bullets in front of Mehrangarh Fort

Elephants at the Amber Fort

All the towns and villages were very colourful, having been decorated with millions of coloured lights and other decorations ready for Diwali and the start of the national holiday. Another converted fort was our next hotel and in the evening the Maharaja demonstrated his skills by cooking our meal.

We arrived in Jaipur on the day they celebrate Diwali and were all invited to join Narendra and his family at their home for this famous festival. We were even given traditional Indian clothes so that we truly felt like part of the celebrations. The party was held on the roof terrace of their house, which had a good view across Jaipur where the sky was lit up by fireworks continuously from dusk right through to dawn the next day.

The morning after involved yet another form of transport: elephants at the Amber Fort. Then later that day we may possibly have broken a world record with 8 of us, plus the driver, travelling in a 4-seater Tuk Tuk across Jaipur. Even the locals seemed surprised to see that!

The next day we said our farewells to the group as they headed off to Agra to see the Taj Mahal whilst we travelled south by car to Ramthanbore National Park. There we took a safari in the Tiger Reserve, where one was actually seen and photographed.

Who could visit India without going on the Indian railways?  Well we certainly couldn’t so we caught a train to Agra for our final days of sightseeing which included the must-see Wonder of the World, the Taj Mahal.

Normal riding India style

The next day we said our farewells to the group as they headed off to Agra to see the Taj Mahal whilst we travelled south by car to Ramthanbore National Park. There we took a safari in the Tiger Reserve, where one was actually seen and photographed.

Who could visit India without going on the Indian railways?  Well we certainly couldn’t so we caught a train to Agra for our final days of sightseeing which included the must-see Wonder of the World, the Taj Mahal.

After a couple of days in Agra and countless more photos, we finally said our sad farewells to India and arrived back at Heathrow. Two men of mature years were back in England, very tired, with lighter bank balances but with fantastic memories and photos to enjoy for the rest of our lives.

Someone asked me what the three best bits were. Very difficult to answer as there were no bad bits but certainly some of the highlights were:

  1. The Indian people, so warm, friendly and welcoming
  2. The Royal Enfield Bullets, they look like museum pieces but took everything in their stride
  3. Celebrating Diwali with an Indian family at their home in Jaipur

Would we do it again? Yes. Would we recommend it to anyone else? Yes, if you like bikes, just do it.

Would we recommend the tour company? Yes, 100%. They were www.indianrides.com

If you are thinking of doing a similar tour and want more advice, just let us know and we would be pleased to help.

Here are a few tips.

The System applied to riding in India.

I – Information:  Too much on offer, best to ignore

P – Position:  Anywhere you can find a space, but not restricted by the road

S – Speed:  No chance, slow or extra slow

G – Gear:  Any you can find in the box, they are all much the same

A – Acceleration:  About 0-60 in two days

Acronyms

MAD:  They all are and are all around you

TUG:  Take, every man for himself

POWDDERSS:  If the horn works and the engine starts that’s all you need to check

OUR:  It’s all too hectic, just react

IAMSAFE:  If you are awake that is all that is needed

Biking gear

Men – always the driver, t-shirt, shorts, flip-flops and sunglasses are essential, plus a mobile phone in left hand and probably being used. A helmet is legally required by the driver but optionally worn and often carried on the arm. No helmet requirement for passengers, normally at least 2 passengers on every bike.

Women – Sari and optional flip flops. They ride side saddle carrying a week’s shopping and up to five children. All bikes are manufactured with a side step and sari guard, as side saddle is legal.

The Right of Way

In India only one thing has the right of way and that is the cow. Everyone has to defer to the cow without exception, even the President.

John Stevenson & Patrick White

First published in Slipstream May 2020

 

Bullets, Camels, Elephants & Tigers (Part 1)

Having spent a lazy summer swanning around the Cotswolds, John Stevenson was getting bored. Patrick White, who was recovering from a serious illness, was also bored, having not been on a bike for nine months. Both wanting to extend their biking horizons, we braved an adventure north – all the way to Birmingham. The destination was that bikers adventure park, The NEC Bike Show.

Without the use of maps, compass or satnav, we explored the show, narrowly avoiding bankruptcy at the likes of BMW, Norton, Ducati, Brough etc., until we found an oasis of calm and a very friendly welcome at the Indian Rides stand.

Narendra, the founder, and his wife Gopika asked us if we had ever thought of going to India. John replied “Yes, it is somewhere I have always wanted to go,” whilst Patrick, looking horrified, said “You’ve got to be joking!”

Fast forward to early February 2019. Patrick, having been encouraged, maybe bullied, by John agreed that – although it was pure madness – they should just do it. By the end of February having, in true Indian style, negotiated a good deal for the tour, flights were booked with British Airways and deposits paid. At this point it seemed like a good time to do some extensive research into what we were actually letting ourselves in for.

The Tour was to last 15 days, but as we considered ourselves to be “gentlemen of leisure”, we added a day on the front and several days on the back. When planning and booking we worked out a strict budget, but over the following months that gradually fell by the wayside. The months from the end of February to the departure were filled with obtaining visas; having lots of jabs; getting International driving licences; a long search for a map of Rajasthan; endless shopping trips and searches on eBay for suitable biking gear; enough first aid kit to equip a  small ambulance plus large quantities of Deet for the expected mosquitoes.

Then one day we found ourselves at Heathrow Terminal 5. Having checked in the luggage, we settled down at Costa in the departure lounge and said “Well there’s no turning back now!” The big positive was that we knew that we were going to have excellent biking weather.

10 hours after buying some ‘Scottish medicinal mouth wash’ in the Duty Free at Terminal 5, we looked out of the aircraft window to see New Delhi rushing up towards us out of the smog. A car from our hotel collected us from the airport and gave us our first taste of Indian driving and traffic. India, having been part of the British Empire, had all the familiar infrastructure: driving on the left, pavements, roundabouts, pedestrian crossings, traffic lights, English road signs, only you just ignore all that. The police just stand and watch the ensuing chaos.

After checking into our hotel we went for a climatisation walk – a circular tour of the area around the railway station. We were in awe of the volume and variety of traffic, which included cars, lorries, bicycles, scooters, motorbikes, ox carts, Tuk Tuks, cycle rickshaws, dogs, cattle, goats, pedestrians and handcarts. It all appeared totally chaotic. The deafening cacophony of horns and engines which continued 24/7 almost made you forget that the air was over 40°C and heavy with pollution.

Contrary to all the scaremongering, the smell was no worse than most other cities. To get a real flavour of Delhi we took a ride in a Tuk Tuk across New Dehli centre at rush hour – until you have experienced that you don’t know you are alive. We also rode the Metro, which was so modern, efficient and clean we thought we had been transported to another planet.

That evening we enjoyed our first ‘real’ Indian curry followed by a good night’s sleep. The next morning we were collected from our hotel by Indian Rides and whisked some 4 hours away in a mini bus to Mandawa and our hotel, The Mandawa Haveli. It was essentially a town centre manor house of historical and architectural interest, and we felt that we were now experiencing true India. Parked in the front courtyard were our trusty steeds for the next 15 days; 14 new Royal Enfield 500cc Bullets in British Racing Green. Wow, let the fun begin!

That evening over dinner and a few bottles of Kingfisher, we got to know the rest of the tour group which consisted of us, 4 other Brits (3 of whom were IAM members), 1 Dutchman, plus 3 French couples and of course Narendra, our tour leader. As well as this there was the support crew of 2 with their minibus for our luggage and a variety of Royal Enfield spare parts. These two guys we renamed Hudson and Jeeves as we could never remember their proper names and when we did remember we couldn’t pronounce them.

Now the serious riding began but first a safety briefing and bike check: Check 1 engine starts; Check 2 horn works; Check 3 – just ride! The first day of riding covered many aspects including ignoring everything we learnt back home, riding on road surfaces that were so bad that it proved England does not have any pot holes, just minor surface imperfections. We rode through rivers, deep gravel, sand and unmade roads, all while negotiating regular Indian traffic – which appeared to be complete chaos – plus avoiding cows, camels, pigs, dogs, oxen, monkeys, and of course, pedestrians, Tuk Tuks, rickshaws and thousands of scooters. In spite of all this, it was some of the best fun we have ever experienced on bikes and did wonders for our observation and filtering skills.

The Mandawa Haveli.

Hudson and Jeeves.

The following day we left Mandawa and headed for Bikaner, covering another good mix of road types and avoiding herds of camels. We were now really loving the Bullets, the big 500cc single, thumping away, exhaust burbling, plus the popping and banging on the overrun. We stopped off for a tour of the Fort of Junagarh then on to Bikaner, where we stayed in an ancient palace which now served as a 5 star hotel.

After a good breakfast of traditional Indian or European fare, we were back on our Bullets heading for the golden city of Jaisalmer, on the edge of the Thar desert. Dinner in the open roof-top restaurant watching the sun set on Jaisalmer Fort was spectacular. The fort looks like a giant sand castle rising from the sandy plains.

The next day started with a tour of the fort and the town, then more riding but this time out into the Thar Desert. After an hour or so our hotel for the night appeared as if like a mirage. It was a tented complex surrounded by huge sand dunes. Our next test was to access the site up a rather large and steep sand dune. Narendra filled us with confidence while we all waited at the bottom and watched him ride straight up as though it was a tarmac road. We then attempted to emulate him one by one, resulting in no one getting much further than halfway without the assistance of several locals pushing. Having proved we cannot ride bikes on sand dunes and any prospect of competing in the Dakar Rally completely dashed, we all transferred to camels.

That night we were entertained by local gipsy dancers and musicians, and slept under the stars only to discover, the following morning, that we were just as bad at riding back down the dunes.

We negotiated many roads that were covered in sand, some several centimetres deep, but the Bullets never let us down and we couldn’t believe how versatile our bikes were, coping with everything thrown at them and proving you don’t have to spend any more than about £4,000 to have a brand new bike that is great fun and full of character.

Later that day, arriving at our destination, Pokaran, we found our hotel to be a converted fort, complete with battlements and a large outdoor swimming pool. Could this get any better?

John Stevenson & Patrick White

First published in Slipstream April 2020

From Bullets to camels.

The Royal Enfield Himalayan

Remember when the Dacia Sandero launched in the UK? It made a big splash in the automotive press and even beyond; an actual, proper car for just £6,000. With the competition priced close to three times that amount it was no surprise that a lot of people picked one up almost on impulse. Once things calmed down a bit, the more serious, cynical journalists got their hands on them. Eventually a consensus was reached that, while you could buy a new car for just six grand, you could also buy a much nicer used car for around the same money.

My suspicion is that the Royal Enfield Himalayan might suffer a similar fate. Right now, we’re all going crazy for the things and, on paper, it’s easy to see why. A brand-new air/oil-cooled 411cc single with a low seat height, genuine off-road capability, and impressive luggage capacity for just £4,200 on the road? Surely there must have been a mistake? The internet is already awash with videos of people loading them to the gills, throwing on a set of serious knobbly tyres and tearing off into the wilderness; the big-dollar BMW/KTM/Triumph adventuring experience for a quarter of the price.

While at our local Royal Enfield dealer, I saw a chap pull up on a Himalayan wearing what looked like a full set of very clean BMW adventure textiles. It occurred to me that someone who had already signed on the dotted line for a motorcycle that was just a few accessories short of costing £20,000 would probably not be too keen on risking their expensive new machine down a rutted country lane. One mistake, one surprise rock or rut and the repair bills could easily be in excess of what a whole Himalayan costs to buy outright. And so, in a way, this new Indian-made motorcycle might simply be the world’s most expensive set of crash bars.

Those of you who have recently sat down with a salesman in a European motorcycle dealership will have noted how little adding thousands of pounds of electronic suspension, heated seats and aluminium panniers seems to add to the proposed monthly payment. I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before some enterprising BMW dealership starts offering to roll a whole second motorcycle into that 3-year plan.

But does the Himalayan deserve better than this? Can it stand alone as a perfectly good motorcycle, a worthy competitor to our overwrought, over-complicated and over-priced Japanese and European machinery? Have the Indian-owned Royal Enfield finally got the hang of quality control and delivered a reliable, dependable, rugged motorcycle that we can be proud to put in our garages?

Judging that last point is normally very difficult on a carefully-controlled test-ride. Manufacturers, and by extension, their dealers, are understandably very careful to ensure that a potential customer has a flawless introductory experience that will encourage them to hand over their credit card at the end. Fortunately, the Himalayans we took out obliged by breaking down almost immediately, thereby putting the matter to rest.

My brother’s bike decided that throttles were for wimps and wedged itself wide open, refusing to be fixed and needing to be coaxed back to the dealership with the clutch. In addition, neither of us could read half of our instruments due to the significant condensation behind the glass on the displays – a common issue, according to the internet, and apparently preventable by greasing all the connectors to the clocks, but still not really something I would expect to have to do on a new machine.

The next black mark was for the brakes. We both discovered that stopping distances were far, far greater than we would expect, and had to haul on both lever and pedal rather brutally to prevent obstacles in front causing unplanned wheelbase reductions. The front brake has no feel and no bite, requiring the rider to simply squeeze the lever as hard as they can as far in advance as possible. The rear is the opposite – loads of feel and bite, but it locks up almost immediately, causing the ABS to cut power to the brake and rendering it essentially inoperative. It’s possible that the softer brakes might be ideal for use in dirt or gravel but on the road they’re simply not fit for purpose. Better pads might help, but again, it’s something that should have been resolved at the factory.

Things start looking better as we work our way down the parts list. The seat is surprisingly comfortable – even for pillions – and the riding position somehow works well both when sat down or stood up on the pegs. Combine that with an extremely low seat height that would allow most riders to rest both feet flat on the ground yet miraculously fails to result in my knees sticking up around my ears while on the move. Our shortened ride time did mean that an extended test would be required to confirm if things remained comfortable for longer trips.

The suspension was soft, but not sloppy, and probably a good fit for the sort of riding this bike was designed for. I’m quite sure that the higher cornering speeds possible with better tyres might cause wallowing but achieving those high speeds would be a challenge with the meagre 24bhp on offer.

That’s not to say that the Himalayan feels slow, as long as your expectations are realistic. The 411cc air/oil-cooled engine is surprisingly smooth and relatively punchy, feeling more like a slightly breathless V-twin than a thrashy single. There’s not a whole lot going on below 4,000rpm, even if it’s more tractable than plenty of larger multi-cylinder bikes I’ve ridden, but the show’s all over before the needle reaches 6K. Even then you can feel valve float setting in and distressing noises can be heard from the top-end before the tachometer is past 5,500, so the usable power band is surprisingly narrow. It’s just as well that the gear shift is accurate and the clutch light, as you’ll be using both frequently.

Speaking of the clutch, one modification I would have to do on day one would be an adjustable lever. The biting point on the Royal Enfield is somewhere just beyond my fingertips, meaning that those of us with smaller hands may find pulling away from a stop a matter of setting the revs and just letting go of the clutch entirely. The soft bite and small displacement mean that setting off isn’t too bad but low-speed manoeuvres inevitably lack accuracy.

Other than that, it has to be said that niggles, irritations and deal-breakers are notable by their absence. The Himalayan may not do anything spectacularly well, but neither does it fall noticeably short anywhere. The footpegs don’t get in your way when you set your feet down, and the side stand is easy to extend and retract, two tricks that plenty of bikes costing 3-4 times as much somehow struggle with. The windshield is well designed, if a little too short, and a small fairing would make motorway stints entirely manageable.

As standard it comes fitted with a pair of practical tank-mounted pannier rails, with an optional rear-mounted set and matching metal panniers available from your local dealer at a refreshingly low cost. The dashboard is fully-featured, offering an analogue tachometer and speedometer as well as various trip meters and even a compass – something I cannot recall having ever seen before on a production motorcycle. So far owners have been averaging almost 80mpg in mixed use, meaning that a 250-mile range is easily achievable from the relatively meagre 15 litre tank.

I would prefer to reserve judgement until I’ve had more time in the saddle, but my brother feels that the only test ride long enough would involve multiple border crossings and a few months of atmospheric exposure. All the enthusiastic video reviews online seem to be shot in the driest, dustiest parts of Utah or Arizona, and I can’t help but wonder how well this machine would survive a couple of wet British winters. Used Bullet 500’s seem to be either immaculate fair-weather bar-hoppers, or look like they’ve been dredged up from the bottom of a river.

I could excuse a lot about the Himalayan by recalling that I could take one home for just £4,200. I could excuse the cheap components, the list of urgent upgrades/repairs, and even the 3,000 mile service intervals that include a valve clearance check every single time. I can appreciate the rugged styling, practical touches, low seat height and impressive fuel economy, and I would probably struggle to point out a serious competitor at any other new-bike dealership.

The Honda CRF250L would come close for entry-level dirt capability, although luggage and pillion capability are comparatively non-existent. Triumph or Ducati’s latest small-capacity Scramblers would be just as capable off-road and far better on it, but are double the price. In fact, the biggest competition for this £4,000 new motorcycle is a £4,000 used motorcycle. And that is where, test-rides or not, things fall apart rather upsettingly for the Himalayan.

You see, you can buy a whole raft of used mid-capacity adventure bikes for around the same price and, with matching dirt-oriented tyres, would be no less capable off-road than the small-capacity Royal Enfield. There’s nowhere that I would take a Himalayan that I wouldn’t take my V-Strom 650 and you can buy those for £3k. It wouldn’t be new and it wouldn’t be covered under a warranty but experience has shown me that you wouldn’t actually need one in any case. It would shrug off a few winters, be more competent during the tarmac sections of your trip, and would likely feature fewer pre-existing issues that required your immediate attention.

Certainly, a BMW F700GS or Triumph Tiger 800 would weigh more than the Himalayan, but not by much – the small 411cc single manages to tip the scales at a surprisingly heavy 190kg. If the low seat height is what caught your attention, then might I suggest you leave the majority of your budget in your pocket and pick up an early Honda CB500 instead? Similar weight to the Enfield, similar seat height, but with double the cylinders, power and torque. Bolt on a set of crash bars, lever on some Mitas E7’s and hit the trails.

I think that the Royal Enfield Himalayan’s biggest triumph may be to demonstrate conclusively to the rest of us that you can take pretty much any bike anywhere as long as you don’t care if it gets a little beat up. It has reminded us that most off-roading is actually just gravel roads with a bit of grass; trails that do not require any of the trappings of a serious enduro machine.

There’s a chap circumnavigating the globe right now on a Ducati Scrambler – a motorcycle roundly mocked by off-road enthusiasts as a poser/hipster/city bike – and Nick Sanders has toured the length of Africa on a Yamaha R1. Charlie and Ewan took BMW R1150GS’s on their famous cross-continental adventures, but their cameraman got stuck far less on the piece-of-junk Russian motorcycle he picked up at a local market. As far as I can tell, the biggest problem the Royal Enfield Himalayan has is that we don’t actually need it.

Nick Tasker

First published in Slipstream January 2019