Off the someday list: Sikkim on two wheels

Why Sikkim? It had been on our "someday" list for years. Then we realised it had everything we love: mountains, a bike adventure and slow, peaceful mornings.

So we stopped waiting for the right time and simply went.

Nathu La

Gangtok fades behind you, and somewhere on the climb to Nathu La the air thins, the chatter stops and the mountains take over.

At Tsomgo Lake the bikes got a break and the yaks took over. They were far more composed than us humans. The yak milk tea, though, was an adventure of its own. One sip was quite enough.

And at the top, the phones quietly decided we were in China, while the watches refused to budge from India.

Then you see the jawans, standing guard at 14,000+ ft in a wind that cuts straight through you, without a word of complaint, and suddenly the flag looks different from up there. That's when the smiles turned into goosebumps.

The Old Silk Route

200+ km on two wheels, tracing parts of the Old Silk Route that once connected Tibet with Sikkim and the Indian plains. Centuries ago, trade caravans travelled this road. This time it carried one very excited pillion, and a rider who handled the hairpins better than my nerves.

Some stretches were mist so thick you could barely see 50 metres ahead. Then the rain rolled in, so we zipped up and kept going. Landslides changed our route more than once, and the road couldn't decide between mud, gravel and perfect tarmac.

And then the Zuluk zigzags, all those hairpins, one after another. Looking back up at them from the bottom felt like a quiet little victory.

Ravangla and Namchi

After two days of mud, mist and hairpins, Ravangla felt like someone had turned the volume down.

The giant Buddha, blessed by the Dalai Lama himself, sits so calmly above the clouds that you end up slowing down without even trying.

Not far away in Namchi, replicas of the four dhams and all twelve jyotirlingas share one quiet hilltop, with Shiva watching over them.

Different prayers, the same stillness.

Temi

Temi, the tea garden Sikkim is known for: mist on the slopes, flowers at the edges and a quiet that settles right in. No wonder its first flush is so special.

Khangchendzonga

Some mornings you don't step out for the view, because it comes right to your window.

Khangchendzonga, the third highest peak in the world, catching the first light in gold before settling into a brilliant white. We sat there with our tea, completely lost in it, and nobody wanted to look away.

Locals revere it as Sikkim's guardian deity. That morning, it truly felt like one.

Pelling

Pelling, where even the peace comes with a little adrenaline.

First, the glass skywalk, barefoot, with the whole valley beneath our feet. Above it sits Chenrezig, the Buddha of compassion, and nearby the old monastery carries a stillness that's hard to describe.

Then came the "short walk" to the Rabdentse ruins, which turned out to be a proper forest trek. The legs complained a little, but standing in what was once Sikkim's royal capital, surrounded by mountains, nobody was complaining any more.

Inside prayer wheels, Om Mani Padme Hum is often inscribed thousands of times. Simply translated, "the jewel in the lotus": a reminder that compassion can bloom anywhere, the way a lotus rises from muddy water. Each clockwise turn is believed to send those prayers out into the world.

Darjeeling

The Queen of the Hills has an old favourite, and it isn't in any hurry. Steam engines have been puffing up these slopes since 1881, with coal shovelled in by hand and a whistle that cuts through the mist. UNESCO made it a World Heritage Site. Darjeeling made it a way of life.

Darjeeling is best taken slowly, one cup at a time.

A cold sunrise at Tiger Hill, a quiet hour at the Peace Pagoda (one of only a handful across India, built by Japanese Buddhist monks as a prayer for world peace) and a steam train winding up to Ghum, India's highest railway station. The whole town seems to move at its own unhurried pace.

The tea is what stays with you, though. The first flush is light and floral, the second flush deep and mellow, and it's hard to believe both come from the same hills.

Bucket list: ticked.