Part 2: Into the Heart of Bhutan

We were still shaking off the fatigue of our late-night ride into Thimphu when a chance encounter in Phuentsholing the day before gave us a surprise bit of history. While sorting out our paperwork, we met the Chief of Traffic Police, who informed us — with a mix of amusement and pride — that we were the first ever Nepali-registered motorcycles to officially enter Bhutan.

That moment hit different. For all the years RJ and I had been riding across the Himalayas, this was something special — a little piece of two-wheeled history. Bhutan may be a famously closed-off country for vehicles, but thanks to our friend Pelden, who had handled all the paperwork with military precision, and Sherap, his top motorcycle guide, everything had been timed perfectly for our arrival.

Thimphu Wake-Up and Old Friends

We were staying at Yarkay Thimphu, a Taj Seleqtion hotel located beside the iconic Clock Tower Square. I was jolted awake by a very familiar melody — the Nepalese National Anthem, echoing across the square. Turns out the South Asia Bodybuilding Championship was being held just outside our window. A surreal way to start a morning in Bhutan.

The hotel was managed by Sourabh Singh, an old acquaintance who once worked at the Marriott in Kathmandu — and rented a room from my parents. It felt full circle, standing in Bhutan, bikes parked outside, friends old and new nearby.

Into the Mountains: Thimphu to Punakha to Tangsibji

We fired up the bikes and rolled eastward. The ride to Punakha via Dochula Pass (3,140m) was sublime — winding switchbacks, cool alpine air, and the 108 Druk Wangyal chortens standing solemn at the summit. From there, we descended into Punakha Valley, surrounded by dense forest and glowing green rice terraces.

After a quick visit to the Punakha Dzong, we continued deeper east toward Tangsibji. The roads undulated through oak and chir pine forests, hugging rivers and cutting through sleepy villages. By evening, we arrived at our stop — a heritage farmhouse built by Pelden’s grandfather in the 1960s.

The house sat quietly above the village. Our host for the night? Bhutan’s Strongest Man, winner of the national strongman competition — a title that couldn’t have contrasted more with his gentle demeanor and hospitality. That night, over a warm, home-cooked meal and local drinks, we traded stories beneath the stars with his family. It felt like we’d stepped decades back in time.

Across the Heartlands: Trongsa to Bumthang

The next day, we rode past Trongsa, home to one of Bhutan’s largest fortresses, and carried on toward Bumthang via the Ura bypass. The road took us through pine-shrouded ridges, sweeping meadows, and tiny villages untouched by tourism.

Bumthang welcomed us with wide, open valleys and quiet backroads — perfect terrain for relaxed exploration. We cruised through the region visiting ancient temples, tried Red Panda beer at the local brewery, and stopped at the cheese factory to load up on Gouda. RJ swears it was the best cheese sandwich he’s had in years.

The Valley of Silence: Phobjikha

From Bumthang, we rode west to Phobjikha, a stunning glacial valley carved into the foothills of the Black Mountains. The roads here were dreamy — winding through pine forests and open meadows, with barely a vehicle in sight.

Phobjikha was so beautiful, so otherworldly, that we made a spontaneous decision to ditch our cozy hotel booking and camp outside. After all, we’d lugged all our gear across two countries — it was time to use it.

Naturally, the clouds rolled in just after sunset.

A sudden downpour soaked the valley, our gear, and our egos. Huddled in our little tent, listening to the rain hammering outside, we laughed at the irony of abandoning a warm bed for a soggy adventure. But honestly? It made for one of the best stories of the trip.

Back in Thimphu: Bikes, Trails, and a Familiar Mountain Bike

Before wrapping up our time in Bhutan, I took my CFMoto 450MT in for its 5,000 km service at the dealership in Thimphu. There, we met Penjore and his business partner ‘G’, both serious off-road riders and incredibly welcoming.

They offered us what they called a “beginner” trail ride and handed us their Husqvarna 250FEs. Classic trap. What followed was one of the gnarliest singletrack rides I’ve ever done — technical switchbacks, narrow ridge trails, and full-throttle climbs along the highlands above Thimphu. RJ made it look easy, of course.

Later that evening, they took us out to an upscale restaurant in the city — a stylish, wood-paneled spot owned by a fellow mountain biker. Midway through the meal, the owner casually mentioned he’d bought a Yeti SB160 — just a couple of years ago from a rider in Nepal. RJ grinned. “That was mine.”

They had never met before, but somehow this little twist tied the trip together perfectly. Just another reminder that in the world of two wheels — dirt or asphalt — it’s always a small, connected world.

The Ride Home

Eventually, it was time to head back.

We loaded up the bikes one final time and rode out of Thimphu, retracing our tracks toward Phuentsholing, but choosing the long route back, through winding mountain roads and tiny towns, just to extend the adventure a bit more.

As we approached the edge of Bhutan, clouds gathered once more, and it started to rain — a soft, persistent curtain of water that mirrored our reluctance to leave. The roads shimmered beneath our wheels. The helmets fogged up. But we didn’t mind.

Because every turn, every trail, and every mist-soaked pass had been worth it.

This trip wasn’t just a ride through Bhutan. It was a journey that blended friendship, endurance, and serendipity — from the border of Nepal to the edge of the Black Mountains and back again.

And as always, the bikes carried us not just across landscapes, but through moments we’ll never forget.