Showing posts with label INDIA (1) part 3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label INDIA (1) part 3. Show all posts

Tuesday, 24 March 2009

022 CYCLE TOURING INDIA (1) – PART 3

 



INDIA 1 – PART 3

Kanyakumari, India – Bhairawa, Nepal

18 January 2009 – 24 March 2009

3 651 Km - 65 Days 

 


MAP 

Photos



13-17 January - Kanyakumari - Kanyakumari - Chennai - By train

Amanda and I caught A train to Chennai, from where she was to fly home. The train arrived in Chennai early on the 14th, where we found a hotel, packed her bike and organised her luggage to South Africa. Once Amanda had left, there was nothing more to do in Chennai, and I caught a train to Kanyakumari.

 

18 January – Kanyakumari – Tirunelveli – 83 km

Ernest and I resumed our quest along the subcontinent’s east coast in a northerly direction. The first 30 kilometres were into a breeze past wind farms, clearly indicating the area was notoriously windy. Nothing to do but battle onwards, humming, “There are days like that”.

Brunch came approximately two hours beyond Kanyakumari, a bowl of authentic South-Indian rice and spicy veg meal served on a banana leaf, without cutlery. Eating using solely one’s fingers isn’t easy. Ernest came across as quite an expert; I, on the other hand, kept a spoon handy for exactly such a purpose, usually to the great delight of spectators.

The road was in good condition, making an early arrival in historical Tirunelveli said more than 2,000 years old. The town was pretty substantial, and accommodation and food easy to locate.

 

19 January - Tirunelveli - Sattur – 83 km

I was cycling with the “Highwayman” and the day was spent cycling along a monotonous stretch into the wind. The road was a brand-new double-lane highway, where traffic went in both directions on either side, defeating the purpose somewhat. Nevertheless, farmers were delighted with the road, allowing easy threshing of their rice crops by spreading it upon the tarmac.

Sattur was a bustling little village with tons of food stalls, selling yummy Indian snacks. I picked up the much-needed weight lost during my illness and accident. Sattur was typical of India’s diversity and featured Shiva, Vishnu, Mariamman and Arulmigu Muthalamman Temples, as well as an old Masjid.

 

20 January - Sattur – Madurai – 81 km

The day started promising but was soon marred by a headwind. At least Amanda taught us not to rush. Once in Madurai, a comfortable abode made staying two nights as there were heaps to see in this historic town. The room must’ve been one of the noisiest we’d in a long time, with cars hooting, motorbikes revving, music playing, and the usual jumble of city sounds.

 

21 January - Madurai

The day was spent wandering around Madurai’s delightful maze of narrow lanes. Being the second-largest city in Tamil Nadu, Madurai had traffic to match and was known as “Temple City”. Moreover, the town was filled with pilgrims making the congestion even more horrendous. Our plan was to investigate the famous Meenakshi Temple, constructed between 1190-1216 CE and an important pilgrimage site. Sadly, the main temple complex was being renovated, and although one could go inside the outside was covered up. The complex, nevertheless, remained imposing due to its sheer size.

 

22 January - Madurai – Tirupati – 70 km

Shortly after leaving Madurai, we turned off the highway and followed considerably smaller paths in the direction of Tiruppattur, believed more than 1,600 years old. The route led past a bird sanctuary and paddy fields, giving the ride a peaceful feel. It’s always a pleasure away from the highway and traffic. One could enjoy the countryside and hills around town known for its sandalwood, the oil of which makes my favourite perfume.

 

23 January - Tiruppattur – Pudukkottai – 80 km

Operating in low gear, a slow cycle along country lanes, past numerous temples, shrines, rice fields and small villages led to Pudukkottai. Once again, the way was used as a threshing floor where rice was spread out upon the tarmac, forcing vehicles to drive over the crops before winnowing. Pudukkottai, situated along the Vellar riverbanks, was surprisingly large with the usual terrible traffic, a host of old temples, and a fort.

 

24 January - Pudukkottai – Thiruchirappalli – 55 km

The day turned out easy riding to Tiruchirappalli, one of India’s oldest inhabited cities, sporting a history dating to the third century BC. Digs were at the Ashby Hotel, which looked a tad worse for wear from the outside but quite pleasant inside. Being an old British guesthouse, it had remains of old wooden furniture and the rooms open onto a shady courtyard and restaurant — all in all, a pleasant place to stay.

 

25 January - Thiruchirappalli (Trichy)

Trichy was an enjoyable city and the day was spent visiting the Rock Fort Temple, perched high atop a massive rocky outcrop. Then, together with other pilgrims, we climbed the stairs cut into the rock to the top, offering beautiful town vistas below.

A tuk-tuk ride took me to the Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple, highly likely India’s largest, featuring 49 Vishnu shrines and seven gopurams (ornate entrance gates). The temple is dedicated to Vishnu and consists of a massive 60-hectare complex complete with beggars, pilgrims, tourists and numerous stalls selling cheap souvenirs.

 

26 January - Thiruchirappali – Thanjavur – 63 km

Getting out of Tritchi in its hair-raising traffic was a feat in itself. Barely outside town, a life insurance salesman flagged us down. He and his companions bought us coconuts and (like nearly all) were curious about our trip. Coconut in hand, we explained where we’d come from, but it was more difficult to tell where we were going, a mystery even to us. Departing, he gave us his business card and said to contact him whenever we needed help. The Indians are immensely kind.

Ernest and I rolled into Thanjavur after a short, enjoyable ride containing a World Heritage Temple complex. These towns typically had stacks of low-cost accommodation and food, catering to the many pilgrims paying their respect at the temples.

 

27 January - Thanjavur – Mayiladuthurai – 80 km

Waking to an overcast and incredibly humid morning, I made a late departure with no intention of going far. However, the day turned out enjoyable cycling as the cloudy conditions illuminated the colours beautifully. The route led past numerous colourful temples, shrines and villages. The traffic signs never fail to amaze. They were either non-existent at the most crucial moments or of no use (bold signs pointing straight, left, or right when that was the single option).

 

28 January - Mayiladuthurai – Pichavaram – 60 km

The day was relaxing as the countryside was flat and peppered with rice paddies. Historic Chidambaram was reached early and turned out one more chaotic town but graced with the famous temple complex of Nataraja dedicated to Shiva.

We didn’t stay long, as Ernest was somewhat templed-out. From Chidambaram, a little sidetrack ran to the tiny fishing village of Pichavaram, situated along tidal canals. The state-ran restaurant had a few rooms which made it easy to investigate. By afternoon I rented a rowboat (and skipper). I spent the two hours before sunset cruising around the backwaters and through the mangrove swamps. This stopping and exploring weren’t what Ernest wanted to do. Still, he reluctantly joined in the activities, and I found this vibe stressful and tiring.

 

29 January - Pichavaram – Pondicherry – 95 km

Ernest decided to go his own way, without all the temple stops and rowing through mangrove swamps. I guessed these activities were as stressful to him as it was to me, dragging him along, trying to keep an upbeat mood. My ride to Pondicherry was relaxed as the weather was perfect and the route flat and scenic.

Arrival in Pondy was consequently early, but finding accommodation took hours. Rooms were pricey, and the cheaper ones were full. But, what felt like hours later, I eventually located lodging at a reasonable rate. Ernest must’ve had the same problem as he arrived soon afterwards.

 

30 January - Pondicherry

Many moons ago, in 1523, the Portuguese arrived in Chennai and the British and French nearly 100 years later. In 1746, the French attacked and took over the British-built fort. It didn’t take the British long to recapture the fort, and the French sailed for Pondicherry, which remained under French rule until 1954. The old part of town is lined by French-era townhouses, coffee shops and restaurants. I spent the day in Pondy, as it is referred to, pigging out on cheese and biscuits as it was here where one could find all kinds of cheese as well as wine - two things I haven’t had in a long time.

Even though a coastal town, the beach was rocky and not a place popular to swim. A walk along the beachfront was pleasant and led past old French buildings, making the town slightly different from the rest of India.

 

31 January - Pondicherry – Malappuram – 91 km

The ride to Malappuram was brilliant; the weather was good as January was a perfect time to cycle Southern India. The road was flat and ran past rice fields and the ever-present coconut palms.

Once in Malappuram, finding accommodation was easy as the town was touristy and popular amongst backpackers. It thus had a lively touristy trade, from eating places to curio sellers. Add one of the best beaches along this coast; no wonder the town was immensely touristy.

 

1 February - Malappuram

Visiting Malappuram was to investigate its UNESCO World Heritage rock-cut temples dating to the 7th and 8th centuries.

The morning was spent at the beach, not something done in ages and then I meandered around Malappuram’s famous rock-cut temples. Temples and sculptures were painstakingly chiselled out of huge boulders strewn around town. The planning and work which went into these temples were mind-boggling.

 

2 February - Malappuram

In the morning, a bus ride took me to Chennai to find a charger for my notebook (which I’d lost) and see if anyone could sort out my virus-infected laptop. The day was highly successful as I found an Asus agent and a shop to clean the viruses. Instead of waiting, I left the computer at the shop, and headed to the beach. A move I assumed would give Ernest time to get ahead as the two of us were travelling with different objectives. Ernest wanted to cycle around the world in record time. I wanted to explore and cycle with no destination in mind. The sole reason he hung about was for financial reasons.

 

3 February - Malappuram – Chennai – 61 km

I got on the bike shortly past 8h00 for the easy ride into Chennai. The closer to the city, the more hectic the traffic, and I was chuffed when I  reached my destination unscathed. The lack of directions was one problem and asking directions another as the reply was generally “Go straight” while pointing either left or right. Eventually, I found the Broadlands Lodge, where I again ran into Ernest, which was not unusual as we both sought the most inexpensive accommodation.

 

4 February - Chennai

Decisions, decisions, decisions. I came to a point where I had to decide where to go from India. I’d a few blissful months of no choices but then had to make a call. The Indian/Myanmar land border was closed, and one had to fly out of India to reach the other Asian countries, i.e., Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.

The other option was to continue north to Nepal to secure a permit to enter Tibet and from there onwards to China. The downside was once over the Himalayas and in China, one would be in a desert area. I’d enough cycling deserts to last me several lifetimes; the idea of cycling through another was enough to put me off the whole idea.

On the one hand, I was reluctant to fly due to the cost and the hassle of packing and getting my bike and bags to the other side. That said, I wasn’t quite ready to give up visions of a beach life, which hopefully awaited in Thailand. At least I’d time as India’s weather was expected to be still good for a few months until the monsoon season started.

 

5-6 February - Chennai

The Broadlands Lodge was a fascinating ramshackle place. Although old and dilapidated, the establishment had a great atmosphere and came with a curious jumble of courtyards, stairs and alleyways. I was lucky to find a fellow traveller with an excellent music range, which he didn’t mind me copying.

 

7 February - Chennai – Naidupeta - 118 km

The following morning, Ernest and I set out and headed north along the highway (I never learned). The road was in excellent condition, and a slight tailwind made good progress. The Indians were generally fascinated by our travels, and a newspaper reporter interviewed us again.

I was excited regarding my decision to cycle to Nepal, as an overland trip from Cape Town to Kathmandu was a trip that had always appealed to me. Never, however, did I contemplate doing it on a bicycle.

 

8 February - Naidupeta – Kavali – 131 km

An additional day was spent cycling along the highway; at least the way was in good condition and the going easy. People met pointed out an article about our adventure in the newspaper and asked for our autographs, which we thought pretty amusing at the time.

The previous day our path crossed from the State of Tamil Nadu to Andhra Pradesh. States varied slightly; each state had its favourite food and Hindu gods. Hanuman (the monkey god) seemed the most popular in Andhra Pradesh.

 

9 February - Kavali – Ongole - 72 km

India is significant and, to give a distance perspective, I left the southernmost point in India 22 days ago. There remained 1,400 kilometres to Kolkata and a further 900 kilometres to the Nepalese border.

Even more extraordinary was people defecated in full sight. On the beach, next to the railway line and along the way. I kid you not! In Africa, people, in general, went into the bushes. Still, it seemed ordinary in India to do your business in full view. Now that was something which took getting used to!

 

10 February - Ongole – Vodarevu Beach - 71 km

At first, I thought turning off to Vodarevu beach was a mistake as our digs were stuffy with a strong fishy smell.

By evening, the beach became a hive of fishing boats returning from their day at sea. The catch was sold auction-style in what resembled a chaotic manner. While this was taking place, the next set of flimsy boats took to the open seas for yet one more night of fishing.

 

11 February - Vodarevu Beach – Challapalle - 96 km

Getting underway was around 10 o’clock. The day was enjoyable along village lanes, past tiny settlements, cornfields, and the ever-present rice paddies. Being interviewed by newspaper reporters, by then, appeared a daily occurrence.

Once across the Krishna River Delta, the small town of Challapalle became home that night. Our abode was a traditional guesthouse. More basic accommodation would be difficult to find, but at 100 rupees, one couldn’t complain.

Indian men constantly chewed paan (a replacement for cigarettes), making their teeth red, giving them a Dracula-like appearance. Hence, the habit was to spit long jets of red paan juice just about anywhere. Evidence of this could be found in nearly all budget rooms, and bedroom walls were covered by traces of paan spit.

 

12 February - Challapalle – Narsapur - 128 km

Take perfect weather, throw in a good road and grand vistas, and it makes an ideal cycling day. While following country lanes, and taking wrong turns on three occasions, our path eventually landed at a bridge washed away by the storm waters. An obscure old wooden ferry boat carted pedestrians, bicycles and motorbikes across the river, a lengthy process. This little diversion turned out quite fascinating. Each day, there was a short article concerning our travels in the paper, and people quickly pointed it out and asked for our autographs. Imagine that!

Moving further east, and still being winter, sunset was reasonably early, resulting in peddling like the clappers to reach Narsapur before sunset.

Tiny Narsapur dates to 1173 AD and history had it the Dutch landed in Narsapur in 1626 and used the town as a shipbuilding yard. I wondered if the Dutch brought the lace industry to town, an industry still prevalent today.

 

13 February - Narsapur – Jaanam (Yanam) - 79 km

The route to Jaanam was interesting and picturesque and I didn’t even need the iPod. I was surprised to find newspaper reporters once more wanted to interview us.

Yanam, a former French colony, was reached in good time and pulled in, primarily to do laundry. While the town had quite a good location along the Godavari River, no accommodation could be found. Once settled at a guesthouse in the city, the taps ran dry, and no laundry could be done.

 

14 February - Yanam – Tuni - 106 km

The route to Tuni hugged the Coringa Wildlife Sanctuary, incorporating India’s second largest stretch of mangrove forest and home to the endangered white-backed and long-billed vultures.

Amusingly, mentioning you are cycling to the next town, a hundred kilometres away, was the same as saying you were going into outer space. As one man pointed out, Tuni was 60 kilometres away and too far to go by bike; better to go to the next village, 10 kilometres away. He was adamant it wasn’t possible to cycle to Tuni in a day. Although everyone in India cycled (it’s, after all, home of the Hero bike), no one goes far, generally merely to the market.

Two more newspapers reported about our journey and people flagged us down to show us the reports. No sooner in Tuni than a TV crew spotted us and had a lengthy interview. At least the excitement and all the attention made up for the dreary room. Not all Indian hotels were substandard, but choosing budget options made getting a dirty room highly likely.

 

15 February - Tuni - Visakhapatnam - 110 km

From Tuni the highway to Visakhapatnam was shared by bicycle salesmen stacked high with everything imaginable, from plastic chairs to pots and pans. The excellent road made easy riding into Visakhapatnam, or Vizag as it’s referred to. Vizag was significantly larger than anticipated and had masses of budget accommodation around the train station. Our lodging had clean sheets, making me as happy as the proverbial pig.

 

16-18 February - Visakhapatnam

The following day was spent doing the routine rest day chores of laundry, internet and stocking up with necessary bits and pieces. In the morning, a train ride took us from Vizag to the Araku Valley, 120 kilometres north of Vizag, known as the region’s best train ride. For 21 rupees, a spectacular five-hour train ride took us through the beautiful, lushly forested Eastern Ghats to Araku town. Once in Araku, a further Rp 10 bus ride dropped us at Borra Caves. This one-million-year-old limestone cave was immense, quite spectacular, and considered the deepest in India.

Taking the train in India in the “general section” is an experience. Passengers were packed in like sardines, and sari-clad women gave us a good old stare and best to try and strike up a conversation.

The next day was spent in Vizag, primarily to shop for new sandals as Ernest’s were falling apart. By evening, the temperature was slightly cooler and a good time to walk along the beachfront, sampling the food on offer.

 

19 February - Visakhapatnam – Srikakulam – 109 km

The map wasn’t as accurate as one would’ve liked, and, instead of following the coast, our path spat us out upon the highway. With the help of a good tailwind, cycling, nevertheless, became an absolute pleasure. We understood from passers-by there were short clips of us on TV, and people stopped to tell us they’d seen us and took a few pictures. I was happy I wasn’t a celebrity and had renewed respect for them. I didn’t think I could continuously handle this kind of attention. More remarkable was how quickly one became blasé about it.

Soon afterwards, Srikakulam was reached, and we called it a day with the sweltering weather. Finding budget digs was more difficult than envisaged. This was due to the Arasavalli Sun Temple (a seventh-century sun temple considered one of the oldest sun temples in India), an important temple, and the many pilgrims filled the more economical rooms.

 

20 February - Srikakulam – Palasa – 89 km

The initial plan was to do 140 kilometres. Still, we came upon the smallish town of Palasa, one of India’s largest cashew-producing cities. The city looked good enough to spend the night, and it was fun walking out on the hunt to find supper as the streets came alive with people, carts, bicycles and rickshaws. Food carts were numerous and the variety immense. Once we bagged a meal of veg fried noodles and other bits and bobs, we headed to our abode to devour the feast.

 

21-23 February - Palasa – Gopalpur – 93 km

Approaching the border between Andhra Pradesh and Orissa, the route deteriorated. Trucks were lined up for kilometres on end, add roadworks, and the area became a congested dust bowl. Once across the border, a smaller path veered off to the seaside village of Gopalpur, a small, pleasant place with heaps of budget accommodation, a small beachfront promenade, and stacks of food carts.

By then, we’d become fussy and wanted reasonably priced ground floor accommodation, preferably around a courtyard. As Ernest was in Gopalpur a few months previously, he knew where to find Mr Singh’s Tourist Holiday Inn which had a few rooms arranged around a courtyard. At 140 rupees, the inn was considered such a bargain we stayed three days.

While working on his bike, Ernest discovered his bicycle’s rear axle was broken. Soon, he was on the phone with my sister, Amanda, and begged her to send more spares.

 

24 February - Gopalpur – Balugaon – 86 km

Aided by a good tailwind, the ride became most enjoyable. Unfortunately, unforeseen expenditure at home left me broke, which called for even more economising than earlier. In Balugaon accommodation was along Lake Chilika. The next morning, the plan was to take the ferry across the lake to Satapada.

This brackish lake is one of the largest in India and well known for its migratory birds. So instead of taking a tourist boat at Rp 600 each, to see the spectacle of million-plus birds coming from as far afield as Siberia, we decided to take the public ferry to Satapada at Rp 40 (on the opposite side of the lake). By evening, Ernest made a substantial potato dish.

 

25-26 February - Balagoan – Puri – 169 km

We were up at 5h00 to catch the ferry at 6h00, but to our surprise found no ferry, just a tiny fishing vessel loaded with ice and other fishing paraphernalia. The price shot up to 250 rupees, and we gave up and cycled around the lake to Puri. I was disappointed as not simply was the distance substantially further than I wanted to go, but the lake had been listed as a tentative UNESCO World Heritage Site. Still, the weather was scorching and the landscape not as exciting as we’d become accustomed to.

Due to the long distance cycled, arrival in Puri, situated along the Bay of Bengal, was late. Nevertheless, I uncovered a decent abode featuring a shared bathroom and a hot shower, precisely the thing needed following such a long day. After cycling such a distance with such ease, I assumed a broken axel was not such a disaster after all.

The heat continued into the next day - by the time the temperature was mentioned in the papers, one knew the weather was unseasonably hot (even in India). The day was spent doing laundry and resting indoors, only emerging to walk along the beach by evening.

 

27 February - Puri – Konark – 45 km

Puri is primarily known for its 12th-century Jagannatha Temple, one of the original Hindu pilgrimage sites. Before getting underway, we first investigated this famous temple. Non-Hindus weren’t allowed inside, but one could view the temple from the nearby library’s roof. Konark was a mere 36 kilometres along the coast and housed another well-known temple, the Sun Temple and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The guesthouse located resembled an oven and came with an extremely noisy fan. At least our lousy abode allowed us to see the Sun Temple at night while lit up.

 

28 February - Konark – Bhubaneshwar – 64 km

A short and pleasant ride led to chaotic Bhubaneswar, home to the famous Udaygiri and Khandagiri Caves, where I vowed never to get a windowless room again. Windowless, however, appeared the least of our problems as no rooms seemed available. Many budget hotels didn’t cater to foreigners. A spacious but overpriced establishment was eventually located following a long search. Happy dance!

The lack of rooms was due to Bhubaneshwar’s history and its old religious centre, complete with a ceremonial tank. Out of the many stone temples built here more than a thousand years ago, around 50 remain. Add an ancient cave complex and accommodation was bound to be in high demand.

 

1 March - Bhubaneswar – Chandikhol – 81 km

From Bhubaneswar, we first tried cycling along a side road, but found it in such poor condition it was best to return to the highway. Chandikhol was reached early, but Ernest wanted to stay to watch cricket. The game’s tension must’ve gotten to Ernest, as he polished off an entire bottle of whiskey!

 

2 March - Chandikhol – Balasore – 137 km

There was no getting away early and a tedious day spent cycling along the highway after the previous night’s drinking. Ernest had more bike problems than anyone. Not that I (or other cyclists) never had issues. He just had more. I preferred to have mine fixed at a professional bike shop. He’d his usual flat tyre on this day and had to fix the punctured tube surrounded by the usual crowd of spectators. I giggled while watching the spectacle from afar. The kids were highly interested in the bell, gears and odometer, which irritated Ernest to no end as he most likely had a terrible hangover. Encountering road works in the last 50 kilometres didn’t help either. Taking all the delays, it wasn’t surprising we only arrived in Balasore shortly before dark.

 

3 March - Balasore – Baripada – 58 km

From Balasore, the route to Nepal, turned away from the coast and veered inland. The scenery instantly changed, and the countryside became far drier.

Baripada was a hive of activity and security forces lined the streets. The chaos was due to the Chief Minister being in town and a podium was erected on the main road from where he addressed the people. Due to all these activities, rooms were scarce, and we’d had to wait an hour until one became available. While waiting, youngsters befriended us (and in true Indian style, we were addressed as “Auntie” and “Uncle”). Then, they treated us to beer, proudly pointing out I was the first woman ever to frequent the bar. At least, when all else fails, I’ll have that incident to put on my resumé!

 

4 March - Baripada – Ghatsila – 99 km

While crossing from Orissa to the little-visited Jharkhand, the landscape became slightly hillier with even fewer tourists. Few travellers ventured to the state of Jharkhand, immediately evident as villagers stared nervously without as much as a wave.

In Ghatsila, we found lodging - curious onlookers in close pursuit. We’d to close the bedroom door and windows to get privacy. The Indians are such a curious bunch, and I guess they wanted to see what two foreigners were up to, and what was in those panniers. As a guy pointed out, the panniers were most likely to carry rice and water.

 

5 March - Ghatsila – Jamshedpur – 50 km

Though the ride to Jamshedpur was short, the route was extremely narrow and hectic with trucks and busses. Ernest wasn’t feeling well, and we turned down to Jamshedpur, where finding accommodation became highly frustrating — eventually, opting for the Holiday Inn (not part of the hotel group), the most inexpensive accommodation available to foreigners. I was convinced neither the hotel nor the town had ever had a female foreign guest before. Staff stared blatantly while others captured this rare event on camera. One could only laugh at the bizarreness of the situation.

 

6 March - Jamshedpur – Bundu – 94 km

Ernest, suffering from an upset stomach, wasn’t feeling strong, but wanted to push onwards towards Ranchi. Unfortunately, the way was incredibly congested, the road surface in poor condition and the going, thus, frustratingly slow. The tiny village of Bundu was reached in the late afternoon and enquiries concerning accommodation were unsuccessful. We eventually ended up at the Catholic Mission School (St Xaviers HS). We were given a space in the priest’s quarters as well as supper and breakfast.

 

7-8 March - Bundu – Ranchi – 47 km

The day started with a prediction of a huge hill looming ahead. The predictions varied between one to 10 kilometres of uphill riding. The distance, eventually, turned out approximately 13 kilometres and the climb barely two kilometres. Halfway through the day, a truck driver, reeking of alcohol, approached us for a selfie. The scary part was very few of these drivers had driver’s licences. Add poor road conditions and narrow roads, throw alcohol into the equation; it’s a miracle we made it to Ranchi unscathed.

Once in Ranchi, accommodation was more difficult to find than expected. Even with stacks of hotels along Main and Station Road, none were licenced to house foreigners. Eventually, overpriced lodging was uncovered, where we stayed two days, to give Ernest time to recover from his upset stomach.

 

9 March - Ranchi – Hazaribag – 96 km

The day promised a climb up to the Hazaribagh Plateau, but none of it materialised. Instead, we found a massive descent. The route was nothing short of hair-raising, with countless trucks flying past at high speed. In addition, the area was known as a coal mining area, and the black dust clung to our sweaty limbs. All this made a stressful day and I was happy to reach Hazaribag (black face and all), where luckily, space was found in the first place enquired.

 

10-12 March - Hazaribag – Bodh Gaya – 126 km

Our ride to Bodh Gaya was terribly stressful and downright awful! Barely 20 kilometres outside town, we came across a hit-and-run accident victim. In passing, we noticed an unconscious man in spasms lying next to the road, his broken motorbike and bags strewn all over the place. We waved down a passing motorcyclist who mercifully had a phone to call an ambulance. Unfortunately, little could be done, as the person was unconscious and seriously injured. This made me realise how fortunate we were to arrive safely at our daily destination. Bodh Gaya was reached in good time, where lodging was found and I flopped down exhausted.

Contrary to our day, Bodh Gaya, where Buddha reached enlightenment, was a peaceful place. The entire village is built around an old temple where Buddha was rumoured to sit under a tree. The original tree is long gone, but a sapling of that tree was planted in its place. By the time of our visit this was already a large and old one. The following day was spent wandering around the various temples and gardens. I believe us extremely lucky to be there during “Holi”. Being a national holiday, children ran around the village, painting all with coloured powder and spraying red and green water.

 

13-14 March - Bodh Gaya – Patna – 135 km

From Bodh Haya to Patna was a terrible ride. While overtaking a stationary vehicle, it pulled into the lane, mercifully only knocking one of the panniers off the bike but he proceeded to drive over it.

Entering Patna, the traffic was equally horrendous. Eventually, the city centre and a guesthouse were located where booking in was for two nights, allowing Ernest to collect the parcel with spares my sister sent.

Just one of the two packages arrived (as they weren’t ordered simultaneously). Still, Ernest didn’t want to wait in Patna until the second parcel arrived. So instead, he suggested cycling to Varanasi and back (over 500 kilometres). By then, I’d enough of the horrible traffic and considered it unnecessary to put ourselves in harm’s way.

 

15 March - Patna - Ara – 65 km

Whatever I suggested wasn’t good enough and, eventually, we took off through the traffic. During the day, Ernest (as anticipated) was knocked off the road by a truck; luckily, there was run-off space, and he managed to keep the bike under control. Unfortunately, the remainder of the ride was marred by equally stressful traffic until reaching Ara.

 

16 March - Ara – Buxar – 74 km

In the morning, TV and newspaper reporters waited outside. After a lengthy interview and filming, we were finally on our way. Traffic stayed dangerously hectic, and the best part of the day was finding the Tourist Bungalow in Buxar, a friendly place with good clean rooms. The room further had a tiny balcony providing both air and light. Add the melodious chanting from a nearby temple, and I couldn’t be happier.

 

17-21 March - Buxar - Varanasi – 135 km

Ernest and I seemed at constant odds and cycling was in near silence, not a vibe I needed in my life. Moreover, the horrendous traffic and poor road conditions didn’t do much for my already dark mood. Add reaching Varanasi late, a chaotic town at the best of times, and I was positively fuming! Varanasi, a substantial and congested city with narrow and confusing alleys, wasn’t a place I wanted to be right then.

Once calmed down, I found Varanasi a place like no other. Not only is it considered one of the holiest cities, but it’s a place where people come to die. Hindu scriptures state dying here and getting cremated along the Ganges allows you to break free from the cycle of rebirth (which sounds a good enough reason to me). Thousands, therefore, come here towards the end of their lives. I stared wide-eyed as families hurried to the river carrying corpses, chanting prayers for the dead person’s soul. At the same time, thick smoke rose from the nearby ghats. It’s a city of sacred pools, funeral pyres, and a place where Hindus aim to attain a sacred form of enlightenment at death. Both bizarre and spiritual, dragging myself away from Varanasi was hard. The longer I stayed, the more fascinating the town and rituals became.

 

22 March - Varanasi – Mau – 128 km

At last, we departed Varanasi and got away reasonably early (meaning before 9h30). Ernest and I cycled together to Ghazipur where I headed north to Nepal and Ernest east.

Cycling on one’s own brought a completely different set of circumstances. People appeared even more interested in your doings and were often more helpful. One of the problems was keeping the crowds out of the room. Every now and again, there would be a knock at the door, with some excuse, while a half dozen faces peeped around the corner. Quite funny, really, if one could see the funny side of the situation.

 

23 March - Mau – Gorakhpur – 110 km

From Mau, a short but tiring ride led to Gorakhpur. The tarmac was in poor condition and became a real pain in the ass. In Gorakhpur, I headed straight to the bus station, usually the place to find budget hotels and eateries. The accommodation found wasn’t the cleanest, but at least it came at a low price.

 

24 Match – Gorakhpur, India – Bhairawa, Nepal – 104 km

I set off upon my last leg in India following a good breakfast of poori and curry veg. High time as well, seeing I’ve been in India more than six months by then. The border crossing at Sunauli was ever so chaotic, but like everything in India, the process was working chaos. On the Nepali side, I was given a one-month stay at $40.

Four kilometres north was the small village of Bhairawa, where the Mt Everest Hotel had surprisingly clean rooms. The place further had a shower (instead of only a bucket) and the water was warm.

Later, I did what one usually did in a new country. I drew local currency from the ATM and bought a SIM card: what a rigmarole, fingerprinted and all!