My First Train Adventure: A Whirlwind Two-Day Bike Ride
I embarked on an epic two-day bike ride that turned into a journey of unexpected firsts and Saw a Train in Raxaul. It all began with a spontaneous decision. I would ride from Bhaktapur to Chitwan, Bharatpur, on day one. This solid stretch of road wound through Nepal’s bustling towns and serene countryside.
With the wind in my hair, I felt unstoppable. The hum of my tires against the pavement became my soundtrack. By the time I finally rolled into Bharatpur, my legs were screaming. Yet, my spirit still soared. I then crashed at a modest guesthouse. Throughout the night, I had a dream about the next leg of my adventure.
Day two dawned bright and bold. Consequently, I set my sights on Raxaul, India. The border crossing was a thrill in itself. I dodged rickshaws, waved at curious locals, and navigated the chaotic charm of a frontier town. After soaking in the sights (and perhaps eating a little too much street food), I headed toward home via the Hetauda road. However, I didn’t realize this detour would gift me a moment I’d never forget—my first-ever glimpse of a train.
Somewhere along the Hetauda stretch, the road hugged a set of rusty tracks. Initially, I hadn’t noticed them. I was riding hard, lost in the rhythm of the ride. Suddenly, a distant rumble snapped me out of my trance. A horn blared—loud, unapologetic, and alive.
I slammed on my brakes. My heart pounded wildly. And there it was: a train, chugging toward me like a beast from another era. Dust swirled around me. Metal groaned loudly. The ground beneath my feet trembled as it roared past.
I stood there, bike propped against my hip. My mouth hung open in amazement. I watched the endless line of cars snake by. The freight swayed rhythmically. Wheels screeched against metal. It was a symphony of motion I’d only ever seen in movies.
Nevertheless, trains remained mythical to me. They were relics of stories and songs, not something I’d ever expected to encounter mid-ride. The sheer power of it—the way it owned the landscape—left me awestruck. I must’ve looked like a kid seeing snow for the first time. Hence, I couldn’t help grinning ear to ear as I waved at the caboose disappearing into the horizon.
The rest of the ride home was a blur. Meanwhile, my legs burnt with fatigue. My water bottle had run dry. Additionally, the sun beat down mercilessly. Yet none of it mattered because I’d seen a train—a real, live, earth-shaking train.
By the time I finally collapsed onto my bed back in Bhaktapur, I was exhausted but still buzzing with adrenaline. In just two days, I had visited three towns and crossed one border. Above all, I experienced a first I’ll carry with me forever. Who knew a simple bike ride could transform into a front-row seat to a rolling legend?
