There are road trips, there are overland expeditions, and then there are journeys that become conversations with continents. This one starts in the industrial heart of Maharashtra, inside Skoda India’s sprawling Chakan facility. The end point lies nearly 20,000 kilometres away at Skoda Auto’s headquarters near Prague in Mladá Boleslav, Czech Republic, where bicycles evolved into automobiles and a 130-year-old story continues to be written.

Between these two factories lie thirteen countries, four major mountain ranges, countless cuisines, dozens of languages and enough history to fill libraries.

Our companion? Not a flagship SUV or a luxury grand tourer, but Skoda’s smallest SUV – the Kylaq, which recently celebrated its one-year anniversary. Driving it from Pune to Prague is a tall order, but surviving one year in India and being accepted with flying colours is enough cred one needs to take on the world.

India – Home Turf

On a cross-country road trip, you’d imagine the home country would be the easiest leg. With India, it was the opposite. To some, it’s organised chaos, but honestly, it’s anything but organised. Erratic traffic, erratic egos, and road conditions fit only for a Mars rover – India was the biggest challenge on the drive from Pune to Prague. As the odometer ticked over its first kilometre, right outside the gate of Skoda’s Chakan plant, a blood-red PMPML bus was ready to trade paint with the cherry-red Kylaq. A dinged-up Kylaq parked on the streets of Prague wouldn’t be a good look, so it was imperative that I babysit this compact SUV like a million-dollar supercar. Having watched the car being assembled on the factory floor, from bare bones to the finished package, only added to the emotion – driving it in traffic felt like walking a toddler across a football field. Eyes wide open, ready to block any attack.

We got onto the Pune expressway and then crossed the Atal Setu in Mumbai, the longest sea bridge on the entire journey. Mumbai was home, both to me and to the Autocar India office, so after a few greetings from co-workers and the obligatory photos, we headed towards our first state crossing. The infamous Western Express Highway that leads out of Mumbai lived up to its reputation, but with a little anxiety, panic and a few expletives, we made it onto the national highway.

The first of countless food stops was Hotel Ahura, renowned for its akuri and kheema. Needless to say, we carb-loaded to the max and made a beeline for Vadodara.

Crossing into Gujarat, the Kylaq could finally stretch its legs and spool up that turbo on the state’s spotless highways. The stability and effortless cruising were a welcome relief, since the bulk of the kilometres on this drive would be covered on long, open highways. Gujarat was a short stint – we made only an overnight halt in Vadodara before slipping out ahead of the morning traffic. The drive into Rajasthan was seamless, and Udaipur greeted us with a mix of heat and traffic. The City of Lakes is worth taking the time to explore, but a late arrival and early morning departure left us with just enough time to grab a traditional meal. All that driving had built up an appetite, so we put it to a vote between a massive vegetarian thali and laal maas – the latter won by a landslide. From the City of Lakes, we headed to Jaipur, the Pink City: just as picturesque as Udaipur, and just as colourful and chaotic. The sun setting over the beautiful Amer Fort made for a cracking backdrop, and a few glimpses of the Jal Mahal on the way back were a treat too. The iconic Hawa Mahal, with its 953 windows, never fails to amuse, but getting a photo of the five-storey icon without a chorus of honks is next to impossible. The next morning, after threading through Jaipur’s narrow lanes, we made it back onto the highway, heading for Agra.

Agra is synonymous with the Taj Mahal, but the Agra Fort – from which you can see the Taj in the distance – is just as mesmerising. The detailing and architecture are second to none, and you could spend hours walking through its courtyards and passages, taking endless pictures. We, of course, also made it to the Taj itself, amid the hordes of tourists, if only to avoid the guilt of visiting Agra without a shot of the world-famous white dome. Tourism done, it was time for some petha – though the lanes near the petha shops seemed to be the exact width of the Kylaq, and that’s where peak anxiety set in. We got out of the mess, walked around the car to check for scratches and scribbles, and sighed in relief. India was adding to the tension, and we were barely halfway through it.

Our next stop from Agra was foodie heaven – Lucknow. The biryanis, kebabs, and tandoors were exactly what we expected, and exactly what Lucknow delivered. Finding your way here is easy – you could do it blindfolded, following the smoke and sizzle to wherever you need to be. Tunday Kababi is a must, and after a heap of biryani laced with kebabs, a long walk through the countless chikankari shops helps burn off some of the calories.

We were closing in on the end of the India leg, with one last stop in Gorakhpur before the Nepal border. To celebrate, a group of Skoda owners, officially known as the ‘Fans of Skoda’ joined us for a celebratory convoy as we drove out – everything from Octavia RS models to Kodiaqs and Kushaqs turned up as a send-off before we went international. The loud, chaotic border towns past Gorakhpur delivered one final challenge as we exited through Raxaul.

The India-Nepal border is still raw and basic, with none of the high-tech systems you might expect. A drive of this scale comes with a mountain of paperwork – visas, carnets, insurance, and more – and sifting through all of it manually takes a while. After a gruelling five hours, the Kylaq crossed out of India for the very first time.

Nepal – Old World Charm

If the Indian side of the border was old-school, Nepal’s immigration post is almost antique. Drive past it, and you’d likely miss it altogether – the only tell-tale sign is a simple gate with ‘Immigration Office’ hand-painted on it. This humble-looking house is, in fact, the immigration office, where, just like on the Indian side, every check is done manually. Fine print, identity proofs, and everything in between were checked meticulously before we were welcomed into Birgunj. Our main draw in Nepal was the bustling capital, Kathmandu, but there were magnificent stops along the way, starting with Chitwan National Park.
Home to nearly 700 one-horned rhinos, the park also shelters elephants, Bengal tigers, cobras, the elusive gharial, and abundant flora. The Kylaq would have been fun to explore it in, but we opted for the park’s safari vehicle to relax and take in the surroundings. Paddling a beaten-up wooden kayak past crocodiles and snakes adds a rush, but it’s nothing compared to a rhino staring you down in all its magnificence. The park gave us a welcome break from long hours behind the wheel.

Next was Lumbini, a spiritual haven and, more importantly, the birthplace of Siddhartha Gautama (Lord Buddha) around 563 BC. Its fascinating monastic zone showcases monasteries built by Buddhist nations from around the world, each reflecting its own culture through design and architecture – a remarkable collection of temples spanning diverse traditions. The feeling of peace there was unlike anything I’d experienced, but it was soon disrupted by the road to Pokhara.

Mountain passes are notorious for destroying Google’s ETAs – landslides, breakdowns, and deteriorating roads mean a stretch that should take an hour could take five, depending on your luck. We braced for traffic and drove straight into a landslide clearing. A two-hour wait meant the sun was setting as we rolled into the quaint town of Pokhara. Bustling with cafés and pop culture, it felt like a mini Kathmandu, but with the stunning Phewa Lake turning orange at sunset. The calm that began in Chitwan came full circle on the shores of Phewa Lake.

Kathmandu, though, was a different animal entirely – every bit a capital city, and a world away from the slow pace of Chitwan or Lumbini. The music is loud, the traffic is hectic, and the city is anything but quiet. Ironically, the only quiet things on the road are the cars – China’s dominance in Nepal is stark, with three in five cars on the road being Chinese EVs. Geely, BYD, and GWM rule the market, with only a handful of Hyundais and Kias as competition.

The party scene rules Kathmandu too. At night, the city comes alive as a hub for tourists from around the world. Hiking gear and North Face apparel go for a fraction of the price – and, often, a fraction of the quality – alongside quirky masks and fridge magnets at every tourist stop. Spend a little more time, though, and you’ll find excellent coffee shops and the famous Thakali thali: thick buckwheat porridge with salads, meat, and plenty of flavour. Good thing too, since walking through Durbar Square works up quite an appetite. Partly destroyed by the devastating 2015 earthquakes, the temples have since been restored to their former glory, though you can still spot the scars in a few bent pillars and roofs. It’s a culture and tradition worth preserving, and Nepal deserves credit for doing exactly that.

With Kathmandu explored, we headed towards our second border crossing – and this one was far more intense. Once we left Kathmandu, we left the tarmac behind too. Muddy back roads, still wet from the previous night’s rain, meant slush and a constant need for 4WD. Even so, though packed to the brim with luggage, the Kylaq stayed light enough and had enough clearance to pick its way around the mud on the approach to the Rasuwa Bridge. From there, you can see the Chinese immigration building towering over everything around it. With the Kylaq thrumming with excitement, we crossed into Tibet – the roof of the world.

Tibet/China – Roof of the World

Crossing into Tibet felt like crossing into the future. For a region tucked deep into the mountains, it’s exceptionally developed – the roads are smooth and well-signed from the moment you cross the bridge, barely a hundred metres before the immigration office. In China, we weren’t taking any chances, knowing any misstep here could jeopardise the rest of the journey. After answering the customs officers honestly – and impressing them with the scale of the Kylaq’s challenge – we entered the lovely town of Gyirong. Old Chinese architecture, plenty of red, and signboards we couldn’t quite read were early signs that we really were in a different world now. Nepal had shared plenty with India – the cars, the food, the roads – but China felt entirely its own. We thought we’d seen our share of speed cameras, but China put us to shame – they appear every 50 metres or so, complete with flashes. There’s simply no room for error, and you’re monitored everywhere you go – aneerie feeling that takes some getting used to. Another non-negotiable is to obtain a special driving licence for every person that will be driving and a China-specific number plate, which you have to place on your dashboard so the cameras can pick up any infringements. A regular India-style RTO office with long queues and a lack of urgency got us homesick for a bit.

A few mugs of hot ginger-lemon tea eased us into the chill, and we set off for Mount Everest Base Camp. High altitudes are usually punishing for small-capacity engines, but thanks to its turbocharged engine, the Kylaq barely broke a sweat, buzzing through the passes. Its 6-speed automatic had been a great convenience through the chaos of India and Nepal, but the winding mountain roads and immaculate tarmac meant I could switch to manual and take control via the paddle shifters. Paddle-shift response is often sluggish, but not here – the shifts were quick, and the taut suspension held its ground even through tight hairpins.

It made for a great drive and great footage, right up until we spotted the peak in the distance. Even from afar, Everest is breathtaking, and mercifully the clouds stayed clear as we got closer. You can’t take a car near base camp itself – a one-hour bus ride covers that final stretch. It’s strange how you lose your breath as you approach Everest – partly the thin air and altitude, but you’d lose it all the same just from the view. Words don’t do it justice, and don’t be surprised if you shed a tear or two – it’s overwhelming.

With Everest ticked off, it was time to take on China’s vastness. We headed to Lhasa, the spiritual capital of Tibet, home to the grand Potala Palace. Once home to monks and lamas, this stunning palace holds incredible history and artefacts – spiritual or not, its significance to the country’s history is unmistakable. The drive kept revealing itself through unique food, dialects, faces, and even geography. One day we were freezing thousands of feet above sea level; days later, in Turpan, we were below sea level in blistering heat. From boiling hotpots to grocery-store instant noodles, China pushed us well outside our comfort zone, and the Kylaq wasn’t spared either.

Two full days on the way to Golmud were entirely off-road, taking over 13 hours of driving, with our average speed dropping to 18kph as the Kylaq waded through water up to its bonnet and emerged without complaint.

A stretch that would have broken most cars left the Kylaq unscathed. China hit hard, but the Kylaq hit back harder. From day one, it had faced challenge after challenge, and from day one, it had come out on top. Three countries in, it still carried the same zeal it started with – and while we were rattled, it stood strong each night, ready for the next day.