The border crossing at Mahendranagar is a stubble of rock and a congo line of trucks, cars, bicycles and horse/buffalo drawn carts. Nepalese emmigration was as easy as a stamp in the passport; Indian immigration was the usual mess of forms and conflicting information. It was interesting to see the distress of a couple of backpackers who had managed to get past Nepalese emmigration without a stamp in their passport only to be told by the Indians that they couldn't do anything without the stamp. This wouldn't normally be a problem - except that the two border posts are about 2km apart in no man's land with just broken rock for a road. It was going to be a long and gruelling walk back for them.
As soon as we were across the border and in India again , we stopped for breakfast in preparation for the indian road system and its psychotic occupants.
With full bellys we hit the road to see how close we could get to Delhi that day.
I had my first fall of the tour when we pulled over to sample some aloo bhaji from a stand under a large tree on the side of the road. As I swung my leg off the bike, it hit my luggage bag and toppled the whole bike over on top of me. Ty was pulling in behind me, and I glimpsed the glee on his face as he saw my bike go down. I would have been in for some extended teasing, however he was laughing so hard that his concentration lapsed and his front wheel went out from under him on the loose surface. He ended up tumbling off his own bike and we sat sprawled in the dirt together.
Despite pot holes and wrong turns, we found ourselves within reach of Delhi for nightfall and made the decision to press on. Brad had managed to secure some accomodation for us at the Delhi Sheraton and this was a powerful incentive as opposed to spending another night in some minus two star roadside hotel. Despite the traffic chaos of Delhi we arrived at 9:30pm to finish the Tandoori Tour.