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Dusk was slipping into night as
our motorcycle caravan turned off the
single-lane Bumthang Valley road. The
Enfield’s pale headlight just picked
out the way ahead — a narrow, climb-
ing stream bed. Standing on the pegs,
I held second gear and pointed the
front wheel uphill. The Bullet slogged
patiently up the slope as the back
wheel scrabbled for traction.
The Bumthang festival started that
evening. In a plowed field, under a
full mountain moon, maybe 300 excit-
ed Bhutanese were milling around.
We were told we’d see firewalking,
and I envisioned red-robed, chanting
monks walking barefoot over beds of
glowing coals. Instead, a steel frame
like a soccer goal was draped with
branches and leaves. When this was
set alight, everyone ran underneath
the flames, laughing. For this I trav-
elled 13,000 miles?
From the crowd staggered a dancer
in a grotesque animal mask, wearing
a long white robe and a crimson wig.
Another, bearing more than a passing
resemblance to Jimi Hendrix, lurched
forward waving a pole decorated with
streamers above his head. The two
began a charging, cavorting dance asthe spellbound audience swayed back
and forth.
“They’re hypnotized,” said Dorji, our
Bhutanese guide. They looked stoned
to me ...The ride
Our expedition began in fall 1997
on the northern plains of India in
Siliguri, West Bengal; and though late
in the year, the air was warm and dry.
Led by Himalayan Roadrunners’ Rob
Callander, we rolled our Enfields out
of the dirt parking lot of Sinclair’s
Hotel on to NH10 heading to Jaigaon
at the Bhutanese border — and into
the chaotic frenzy of an Indian high-
way. We were five bikes on the road,
plus Himalayan Roadrunners’ supportBULLETS
OVER BHUTAN
Story and photos by Robert Smith
Riding Royal Enfields through the quiet land
I
In 1997, I joined one of the first
motorcycle tours of the remote
Himalayan kingdom.