INDIA 1 – PART 3
Kanyakumari, India – Bhairawa, Nepal
18
January 2009 – 24 March 2009
3 651 Km - 65 Days
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!
