Tuesday, 26 May 2009

024 CYCLE TOURING THAILAND (1) 2009

 

Photo by Ernest Markwood


THAILAND (1) 2009
2311 Kilometres – 39 Days
19 April–26 May 2009




 

17–19 April- Kathmandu, Nepal – Bangkok, Thailand - By Air

Following a rather rushed visit to Nepal, we departed at 05h00 and biked through the quiet, dark streets of Kathmandu to the Airport. However, there was no need to arrive early as the flight, scheduled to leave at 9h00, only took off at 11h15.

Royal Nepal Airlines touched down in Bangkok after two-and-a-half hours. A costly taxi ride took us to the immensely touristy area of Banglamphu, where we immediately experienced Thailand's sweltering heat. We huffed, puffed, sweated, and finally had the bikes reassembled and panniers repacked.

With its bars, restaurants, and street food vendors, the famous Khao San Road gave us our first taste of Bangkok. Bangkok is a culinary feast for the brave of heart. Ernest, never one to back away from a "smiley" (roasted sheep's head in South Africa), enjoyed all that was on offer, including steaming bowls of Thai noodle soup with offal.

 

20–22 April - Bangkok

Modern Bangkok came as a pleasant surprise; without the constant hooting and drivers obeying traffic rules, they even stopped allowing one to cross the street. This came as a welcome change following six months in India.

A few days were spent discovering Bangkok, where there were alleys that never failed to amaze amidst ancient temples. These pedestrian lanes sold anything from amulets to second-hand false teeth and bridges. I kid you not. The next stop was Chinatown, whose warren of stalls offered the whole shebang, from food to fluffy teddy bears and jewellery. I guessed it could take years to explore the entire area. Then, on the Chao Phraya River ferry, the river was a hive of activity, carting people and goods to and from their destinations. Getting around by ferry wasn't merely easy but also a pleasure, as there was always a cool breeze coming off the water.

 

23 April - Bangkok – Samut Songkhram – 78 km

Itching to get underway, I was appalled to learn Ernest planned on heading straight to Cambodia. I had no plans to leave Thailand without investigating the rest of the country and its world-famous beaches. Nevertheless, I was adamant about heading south, with or without him. Getting out of Bangkok was far less stressful than even the smallest Indian town. No sooner were we on the bikes than we found ourselves along a highway heading South-East. The heat and humidity, I could tell, could be a significant factor. Although the weather was already boiling early in the morning, the roomy shoulder and motorists obeying traffic rules made cycling effortless.

Samut Songkhram and its famous railway market provided convenient overnighting and a hotel with air-con, a bar fridge and clean linen.

 

24 April - Samut Songkhram – Puk Tian Beach – 78 km

Sadly, we'd to leave our luxury abode and brave the relentless heat for the ride south. Shortly after departing a scenic coastal road turned off the highway. Ernest, the "highwayman", didn't appreciate this deviation but all long-lipped tagged along. So past marshy areas, salt farms (making one thirsty just looking at it) and tiny settlements, we rode until reaching the beachy regions along the Gulf of Thailand.

Finding food was a bigger problem than envisaged. Being vegetarian wasn't a concept Thais understood, or, more likely, I didn't know how to explain myself. Vegetables seemed considered salad and seldom did I encounter the usual green salad which I'm familiar with. My food of choice became lightly fried crispy veg and noodles, which I loved. Ernest enjoyed the wide variety of dishes, consisting mainly of meat and seafood accompanied by the ever-present staple of rice.

At Puk Tian Beach, a bungalow a block away from the beach was home that night. The beach is dominated by a gigantic statue of one of the deities in the epic poem Phra Aphai Mani, a 48,700-line poem from 1822, which took 22 years to write. Once unpacked, we set out on the hunt to locate food and as anticipated, Ernest had more success in this venture than I. I clearly had a few things to learn.

 

25-27 April - Puk Tian Beach – Hua Hin – 49 km

The coastal route passed the resort town of Cha-Am, where holidaymakers enjoyed a Saturday morning at the seaside. Later our way spat us out at the famous holiday town of Hua Hin. The beach looked far too good a place to pass by, and we quickly discovered a rickety guesthouse upon stilts in the old part of town overlooking the ocean. High tide made water lap under the wooden deck, a pleasant spot for a beer at sunset.

Hua Hin Beach sported deck chairs where one could kick back in the shade and sip a beer with the ocean lapping at your feet. The city was further famous for its nightly food markets. Here one could choose from a considerable variety of dishes but sadly no vegetarian food.

 

28 April - Hau Hin – Prachuap Khiri Khan – 98 km

Ernest faffed around forever and thus late by the time we finally got underway. Thank goodness, the way south was pancake flat, not a thing I ever complained about. Halfway through the day, lunch was a bowl of noodle soup, which one could find almost anywhere. Prachuap Khiri Khan's lovely village was reached relatively early and a hut north of town was our abode of choice. The scenery resembled the quintessential Thailand landscape of green jungle-coated limestone pinnacles, postcard-pretty white sandy beaches and a blue-green ocean.

By evening a walk into town revealed a lively night market featuring plenty to choose from. Ernest lapped up oysters but didn't have the stomach for the crispy fried grasshoppers, larvae, cockroaches, chicken feet and other bugs, all served with a dash of soy sauce and a pinch of pepper.

 

29 April-1 May - Prachuap Khiri Khan – Bang Saphan (Thalu Beach) – 115 km

We went a hundred and fifteen kilometres and shortly past Bang Saphan located Lola Bungalows, right upon the beach amongst palm trees, exactly what I've been dreaming of. With barely any tourists and a long white beach, the spot wasn't simply straight out of a tourist brochure but less pricey. Supper was at a restaurant a short walk beside the ocean, and I thought the day couldn't get a great deal better. Needless to say, we stayed a few days, as it was very much a swing-another-day-in-a-hammock kind of place.

 

2 May - Bang Saphan – Roadside Guesthouse – 89 km

Our path followed the coast, a magnificent ride past miles of lonely beaches and scenic bays. The cloudy weather made riding effortless, and we never got caught in the rain we could see around us. A roadside bungalow provided a bed and where we surprisingly, met a fellow South African, living in Thailand. The establishment had a restaurant making it unnecessary to cook. Thai food was quite delicious even if locating vegetarian food was tricky. The only problem was, I didn't think the food was substantial enough to see one through a long cycling day.

 

3 May – Roadside Guesthouse - Chumphon – 43 km

A leisurely ride from our overnight stop proceeded to Chumphon via Hat Tha Wua Laen Beach. Once in Chumphon, we headed to the well-known "Farang Bar" a backpacker's favourite at the time. Luckily, we slinked in minutes ahead of a heavy storm. What a pleasant surprise, the rooms were inexpensive, and the establishment had a popular bar and restaurant. I was pleased with the roof over my head with roaring thunder and an impressive lightning display. At least these storms never lasted long. Once the weather cleared, we ambled along to the nearby supermarket. We discovered bread, cheese and mayonnaise (different from the usual green curry). En route to our abode Ernest uncovered many tasty bits from the vast covered market but I noticed he gave the smoked rats a wide berth. From Chumphon, one could organise boats to the nearby islands, but my cycling partner wasn't keen on such ventures.

 

4 May - Champorn – Chaiya – 142 km

Ernest received an e-mail from his friend Rossouw, saying they were holidaying in Phuket but departing in four days. So we decided to race there to see if we could catch them before their returned home. Ernest was delighted with the urgent pace and it was pedal, pedal, pedal. At least the road was in good condition. By evening Ernest cooked pasta in anticipation of our long-distance the next day.

 

5 May - Chaiya – Au Leuk – 170 km

Again, we'd our heads down and pedalled on, crawling into Ao Leuk just as darkness fell.

 

6 May - Au Leuk – Phuket – 140 km

At least the route was scenic as we rode the last long stretch to Phuket, crossing the Sarasin Bridge, built in 1951 and said the first bridge to connect the mainland to the island. The bridge is a mere 660 meters long and has a tragic history. In 1973 two lovers jumped into the water after being denied a relationship by the young lady's father. Their sad story has subsequently been made into a film.

We went a further forty kilometres from this bridge before slinking into town. Once in Phuket town, a second look at the map revealed Rossouw and Dawn were at Patong Beach on the island's opposite side. I was tired and believed it best to stay put and do the last twenty kilometres in the morning.

 

7-8 May - Phuket – Patong Beach - 21 km

Although a short distance to the Beach, the route led via a steep hill, and it took walking the bike to the top. Hot and humid, I cycled right out of my sandals and had to stop to don socks, preventing me from sliding out of my shoes.

We met Rossouw and Dawn at their lovely hotel, high up upon a hill overlooking the beach. After a chat and beer, we left to find a spot to stay in bustling Patong. Not an exceedingly difficult task as the area was swarming with tourists sporting various accommodations.

The evening was spent enjoying a few Singhas to celebrate Dawn's 50th birthday. Patong Beach is a lively tourist area packed with bars, restaurants, dive shops and souvenir shops - not to mention scantily clad Thai girls enticing Farang men - to the great delight of Ernest and Rossouw.

Two days were spent at Patong, meeting with Rossouw and Dawn every so often for a beer and a chat. Phuket was expensive, as could be expected from such a well-visited destination. The unusual part was seeing elderly foreign men proudly parading their young Thai girlfriends on their arms. I found the concept of sex tourism somewhat immoral. The girls had the knack for making these ageing men feel like a million dollars.

I've a love-hate relationship with cities and touristy places as they are usually far too overcrowded and costly. Still, they offer the luxury of a convenient tourist infrastructure, whether internet, laundry services or pizzas.

I loaded my photos on CD and bought a few small gifts for my nieces and nephews, which Rossouw and Dawn kindly took to South Africa.

I replaced the iPod's earphones, caught in the spokes, fiddling while cycling. Then, finally, I bought toothpaste and a hair conditioner and, following all the shopping, had to return to the ATM.

It rained much of the 2nd day, leaving Rossouw and Dawn to return to their resort during a rain torrent. The rest of the day was spent updating blogs and handing in laundry. Unfortunately, doing laundry was no good as the clothes never dried.

I further located a sim card, to great delight of my family. Still, I could only send but not receive SMSs.

 

9 May - Patong Beach – Thai Muang – 100 km

Our late departure was due to waiting for the return of our laundry. Once all was packed, we followed the west coast in a northerly direction. The plan was to head to Ranong where one could do visa runs to Myanmar (Burma). So we ambled along, past small beachy villages all still struggling to recover from the 2004 tsunami.

Arriving at Tha Muang and keeping an eye out for accommodation a small, obscure sign pointed to a lodge. A gravel path ran behind trees to remote bungalows. We soon discovered the need for privacy as the establishment rented rooms by the hour. Chalets thus came with an ample supply of condoms and toothbrushes, as well as walls adorned by appropriate pictures (no heart-shaped bed though).

 

10 May - Thai Muang – Riverside Bungalows (Khao Lak) – 52 km

The ride to Khao Lak was littered with scenic beaches, but the lack of budget lodging made returning to the main road. Due to the 2004 Tsunami, the well-known basic beach bungalows were all gone and new, fancy hotels were constructed along the seashore. Slightly further a sign pointed to Riverside Bungalows and camping. This was a great place with lush green gardens, gazebos and a great pool. We pitched our tents and lazed around the pool the rest of the day. At sunset, we were eaten alive by mosquitoes and hurriedly retreated to the tents. By then, I wasn't just covered in mosquito bites and a heat rash but suffered from a chronic upset stomach.

 

11 May - Khao Lak – Khuraburi – 83 km

Thailand is a cycle touring paradise. The main roads are good, have spacious shoulders for cycling, and the coast is peppered with gorgeous beaches. As we continued north, we biked through densely wooded areas. Although sweltering and humid, the area remained an absolute pleasure. Average temperatures were a minimum of 24C at night rising to between 36–40 during the day with a humidity factor of 75%.

Khuraburi had riverside huts upon stilts. The setting (right over the riverbank) was good and the price reasonable, and we parked our bikes, never haggling about the price.

I even managed to find a wi-fi connection in one corner of the deck and after folding myself into a pretzel, managed to send a few e-mails. The easiest and cheapest meal was instant noodles with added vegetables, something we ate nearly every day.

 

12 May - Khuraburi – Hat Bang Ben (Laem Son National Park) – 83 km

The stretch north of Khuraburi made a great day on the bike. Most of the coast in that country was covered in mangrove swamps. We rode up and down hills and through densely wooded areas until the turnoff to Laem Son National Park, situated 10 km off the highway.

Hat Bang Ben was located along a sandy beach sporting views of several nearby islands. We found lodging near the beach and swam before cooking our usual noodles.

 

13 May - Hat Bang Ben – Ranong – 60 km

A pleasant amble took us into Ranong, and the Kiwi Orchard Guest House. The guesthouse was a real backpacker's joint featuring a restaurant, bar, boat and bus booking facilities. The reason for staying there was their visa-run service to Burma, which we organised for the coming morning.

 

14 May - Ranong (Visa run to Myanmar)

The visa run involved taking a boat to Myanmar to renew our Thailand visas. Boats frequently scooted across the gulf to the border town of Kaw Thoung. Departing Thailand to Burma, our long-tailed boat didn't sound all too healthy but eventually got away in a cloud of smoke. Once there, $10 bought you a Burmese visa as well as a stamp in and out of Burma. I was livid to find they granted a two-week stay (not a day pass as assumed). If we knew, I sure would've arranged a more extended visit.

Upon returning, we weren't as fortunate as earlier. Our boat's engine exploded with a thunderous bang, leaving us drenched in black oil and adrift in the ocean. Mercifully, the crossing was a busy one and soon, help arrived. A similar boat hooked us up and towed us towards our destination, but halfway gave up and handed us over to another boat which took us the final stretch. Unfortunately, the new boat didn't sound all healthy either. It burped and splattered but eventually got us to the pier from where we'd departed a couple of hours earlier.

Upon closer inspection, and to our horror, we discovered the new visa merely allowed a two-week stay and not a month as foreseen. This meant we'd to peddle like the clappers to get out of Thailand in time.

 

15 May - Ranong – Kra Buri – 60 km

We passed waterfalls, rivers, and beautiful forested areas to Kra Buri. Comfortable looking A-frame huts lured us in and as the weather looked threatening, we stayed put.

Under the trees in cages, were small, pied songbirds with red cheeks which seemed a popular part of Thai culture, particularly in that region. I always had a great urge to set caged birds free; still, their song brought about a wonderfully peaceful and relaxed atmosphere. Moreover, their melodious singing made it easy to understand why practically all households had these birds. Add the many dogs and cats who seem to co-exist surprisingly peacefully, gave the impression of living on a vast farm.

 

16 May - Kra Buri – Chumphon – 68 km

Our route ran east over the hills towards Chumphon, to the Gulf of Thailand. Again, a pleasant day's cycling as the weather was cloudy but without any rain. We bunked down at the Farang Bar in Chumphon, our previous accommodation.

The constant heat caused Ernest and me to develop a heat rash - prickly heat. It's pretty standard in the tropics, and easily treated with a powder or calamine lotion. So not simply were we covered in mosquito bites but also in an unsightly rash by then.

 

17 May - Chumphon – Bang Saphan (Lola Bungalows) – 114 km

We emerged to a drizzle, a drizzle that continued throughout the day. Fortunately, the temperature remained in the high twenties and cycling in the rain can be quite a pleasant experience.

Still, reaching Bang Saphan and Lola Bungalows where we could wash the day's drizzled fuelled grime off, was a relief. Lola had such a great setting, right along the shore; staying the night came easily. We once more cooked instant noodles and it needs mentioning, I was slowly (or maybe not so slowly) becoming tired of instant noodles.

 

18 May - Bang Saphan – Prachuap Khiri Khan – 100 km

From Bang Saphan, we didn't take the coastal road (which I preferred) but the highway, which made soul-destroying riding to Prachuap. Once in Prachuap, we chose our previous ramshackle digs as Ernest was a man of habit. Unfortunately, it wasn't the best place to shelter in rainy weather, as I could see the sky through the roof. The floor wasn't all level either, and even on the toilet one had to secure both feet firmly upon the ground not to slide off.

 

19 May - Prachuap Kiri Khan – Cha-Am – 132 km

With limited time on our visas and seeing we've cycled this stretch a few weeks earlier we got onto the highway, a dreadfully monotonous ride. Convincing Ernest to get off the highway and onto more minor roads was a constant battle that tired me emotionally. Once in Cha-Am, we opted for a two-day stay to sort out my finances via the internet. Ernest had no money, or so he claimed, and I was fast heading that way myself. Therefore, I needed to devise a plan to keep us afloat.

 

21 May - Cha-Am – Samut Sakhon – 129 km

With my finances sorted we resumed our ride along the coastal route to Cambodia, still a few days cycling away. A mild tailwind pushed us onto Samut Sakon. Roadside accommodation at a budget price offered air-con, TV and a bathtub, something not seen in years.

Ernest cooked pasta, which he'd been carrying in his panniers. It's incredible what all came out of those panniers. Still, I considered walking to one of the nearby mobile food carts more convenient.

 

22 May - Samut Sakhon – Chachoengsao – 110 km

From Samut Sakhon to Chachoengsao was, and always will be, a dreadful traffic-laden ride through southern Bangkok, a slow stop–start process. The first sixty kilometres came with horrendous traffic through a densely populated area. Then, mercifully, it cleared and proceeded through a more rural area adorned by endless shrines and temples. Our rural road followed a canal lined by wooden houses upon stilts, where villagers lived from fishing. I thought it remarkable any fish remained in those rivers, as all kinds of fishing methods were employed from Chinese nets to wicker baskets. The teeny fish caught were dried in the sun on large bamboo tables. I felt hot, tired, hungry, and thirsty and we stopped at a petrol station to take a breather. Petrol stations were abundant and in general sported 7-Eleven shops and clean toilets. The weather looked threatening, and we located a bed in a brand-new hotel next door. I was convinced we were the first farang guests as we appeared a great source of interest.

 

23 May - Chachoengsae - Sa Khao – 139 km

Tailwind assisted, we peddled towards the border. Good time was made as we were trying to out-cycle threatening looking clouds. Finally, Sa Khao was reached without encountering thunderstorms, even though Ernest had a flat tire. At a reasonable price, a bungalow at the far end of town was our digs that night. Unfortunately, no sooner had we offloaded the bikes than the rain came pelting down as it can only do in the tropics.

 

24-25 May - Sa Khao – Aranyaprathet – 58 km

A short and hot ride led us into Aranyaprathet, the border town between Thailand and Cambodia. An excellent spot to do laundry before proceeding and we hence stayed an additional night. The Market Hotel was a well-geared backpackers joint, and featured a restaurant, air-con, swimming pool and bar, and outdoor ground-floor rooms, a good choice for cyclists. We woke to rain gushing down and stayed put.

Aranyaprathet had two bike shops, I replaced my much-worn gloves, and Ernest bought two new tyres, thanks to a donation from his sister Olga. He probably would've also purchased two spare rims if he had enough money.

 

26 May – Aranyaprathet, Thailand – Sisophon, Cambodia – 56 km

Cambodia conjured up images of famine and mass killings. I was eager to see what the country would hold – hopefully, none of the above. So, following a relaxed start, we cycled to the border via the border market. The market was a massive area with a warren of stalls selling everything imaginable. Most goods came from Cambodia in a steady stream through the border post, pushed or pulled on numerous heavily loaded hand-drawn carts.

Obtaining a visa involved filling in a form, providing a photo, and visiting the "swine flu" checkpoint to have our ears probed, and our temperatures recorded.

Once in Cambodia, one could tell you were out of well-organised Thailand and in a slightly more chaotic Cambodia. The chaos was made even more so by Cambodians driving on the right and trafficked weaved randomly between the lanes.

The Cambodians seemed friendly enough as greetings "suostei" could be heard from behind banana trees as we pedalled past.

Arriving at Sisophon, our first town, we settled for digs to sass out our new environment, change money, and find a new sim card. A rickety hut on stilts came at $2 – considered a bargain even though one could see through the floorboards. In general, things appeared somewhat cheaper than in Thailand. The Cambodian Riel came at 4160 riels to a US dollar and bankcards got you dollars at the ATM (which could then be changed to Riel). The markets quoted products in Thai Bhat, dollars and Riels.

Strangely enough in Cambodia, like in Thailand, all drinks came with a straw, even a can of beer.

Saturday, 18 April 2009

023 CYCLE TOURING NEPAL

 




NEPAL
722 Kilometres – 24 Days
24 March – 16 April 2009


 

24 March – Gorakhpur, India – Bhairahawa (Siddharthanagar), Nepal - 104km

Following a breakfast of Poori and curry veg, I set out on my last leg in India. High time as well, seeing I’d been there more than six months. The border crossing at Sunauli was ever so chaotic, but the process seemed working chaos like all things in India. On the Nepali side I obtained a one-month visa at $40 (a three-month visa was $100, and I didn’t have enough money). Four kilometres north was the small village of Bhairahawa, sporting accommodation at the Mt Everest Hotel. The room was a pleasant surprise as it was clean and had a warm shower instead of only a bucket.

A walk to the ATM provided Nepalese rupees and a new sim card. What a rigmarole the sim card was, fingerprinted and all.

 

25 March - Bhairahawa – Lumbini - 22km

I struggled to get the phone working and couldn’t send SMS’s. Returning to the shop didn’t help either (language is always a problem in a new country). As Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha, was a short ride away, I made the diversion to see what the place entailed. One would think Buddha’s birthplace, an important pilgrimage site, overrun by tourists, but Lumbini came as a pleasant surprise. Instead, it turned out a peaceful pilgrimage spot. The area is a world heritage site and reminds of a peace park.

 

26 March - Lumbini – Butwal - 44km

From Butwal, a flat but hot and dusty ride took me to Butwal. Butwal sits at a major junction and I stayed the night to decide which direction to go. A road ran directly north, but once I laid eyes upon what is known as the “hills”, I opted for the route past Chitwan National Park. However, this choice only delayed the inevitable, as eventually, one would’ve to cross the hills to reach Kathmandu.

I needed a place to charge my many electrical devices, as Nepal’s power was even more erratic than in India. It appeared electricity was available approximately 16 hours a day. The times vary from day to day and town to town. The previous two nights, power was only available between midnight and six in the morning. I thus never got around to charging my devices.

 

27 March - Butwal – Narayangarh - 121km

The day came with the realisation it had been two years since leaving home and I wondered how many had cycled from Cape Town to Nepal. The trip was far more fascinating than ever imagined and no two days alike.

I was ready to depart at around eight-thirty but wasn’t sure if one was allowed on the road taking the countrywide strike and curfew. Protesters were burning tires and chanting slogans while a heavy police presence prevailed. Eventually, at around 10h30 I was given the green light and had the way all to myself. However, no vehicles were allowed due to the strike, and only pedestrians and bicycles were out. Almost thirty kilometres from Butwal, I’d the first taste of the “hills”. The route climbed about fifteen kilometres, but where there’s an up there’s usually a down and I reached Narayangarh in good time.

The Royal Rest House situated adjacent to the road made overnighting convenient. Albeit not very Royal, the resthouse had a generator and an outside window.

My food order contained two full meals. This often happens when two people order one meal, but this was the first time it happened on my own.

 

28 March - Narayangarh – Sauraha - 35km

A short ride led to Royal Chitwan National park. Even though the route followed the main highway, road signs were non-existent, to such an extent, I rode past the turnoff twice. I found loads of accommodation in Sauraha, the village outside the park. Nearly all featured cottages were set in lush gardens. Due to the political unrest, tourist numbers haven’t returned in full to this part of Nepal. One could thus pick and choose from an ample variety. Substantial discounts were offered at nearly all places and I found a convenient cottage opposite the park entrance.

The rest of the village was rather touristy and prices far higher than expected. Nepal was more expensive than India and my money was fast running out.

Elephants were a common sight close to the park. One could see “pahits” (a person who works with the same elephant throughout their working life) walking their elephants between the park and the river to give them their daily bath.

 

29 March - Sauraha

On elephant back, I set off into the park, and what a great way to see the park. I subsequently discovered the brutal business of elephant training, and I vowed never to take an elephant ride again. That said, the deer and other animals seemed unperturbed by the elephants strolling about. The park permit was valid the entire day and following a bite to eat, I hopped on a canoe for a ride down the river. The ride lasted almost an hour, after which a 3-hour walk took me to the start. Even though not a great deal of wildlife was spotted, walking in the jungle was a great pleasure. However, I saw plenty of birdlife, deer, the famous march mugger, and a few rhinos. In South Africa, a walk in a nature reserve entails a guide carrying a rifle, but in Nepal, the guides were only armed with a stick. I hoped we wouldn’t run into any tigers or other dangerous animals.

By evening, and at my abode, I was lucky to observe a tribal dance, performed for the benefit of guests staying at the same resort.

 

30 March - Sauraha – Royal Beach Camp - 84km

I biked along while high mountains loomed in the foreground. My path followed the Trishuli River gorge, where teahouses clung to the cliffside and prayer flags blew in the wind. A big smile crossed my face - a grin I wore the remainder of the day. It felt like I’d finally arrived in Nepal. At Mugling, I veered towards Kathmandu, still next to the Trishuli River. The road wasn’t flat but never gained any altitude as there were as many down as up hills. I continued until I spotted a river rafting camp sporting a beautiful setting and beach huts. Camping there was fun and we sat around, enjoying a few beers and chilling while watching the river flow past.

 

31 March - Royal beach camp – Kathmandu - 90km

I was informed of a 1500m climb ahead and following a breakfast of delicious pancakes, I proceeded in the direction of Kathmandu. The best part of the way was climbing up the mountainside (still next to the river) but the most significant altitude gain came in a short ten to fifteen km stretch. A zigzag path proceeded up the mountain and from afar, one could see trucks snaking their way up the pass. I switched to my smallest gear, put my head down and grinded my way to the top. From the top of the pass a long descent headed into Kathmandu. Unfortunately, the rain started bucketing down and I reached central Kathmandu freezing and soaked to the bone. Shivering, I booked into the first hotel as I wasn’t going to search for the tourist suburb of Thamel in peak hour traffic and pouring rain. That could wait until the following day.

By morning, I discovered my abode was indeed in Thamel and only moved to a cheaper place. Thamel has a lively tourist trade, with heaps of accommodation, souvenir shops, and trekking/adventure businesses lining the narrow alleys. I further ran into Ernest, who’d reached Kathmandu ahead of me as he took a shortcut over the mountains. That night Ernest and I went out to places I frequented in Kathmandu during my trekking expedition to Annapurna.

 

1–6 April - Kathmandu

Three years previously, I trekked the well-known Annapurna Trail, one of the most scenic routes through the Himalayas. The scenery and the humbleness of the mountain people stayed with me. I was thus delighted to be back among the Nepali people.

Staying in the tourist area of Thamel with its trekking shops, restaurants and Tiger balm sellers came easily. It’s a cosmopolitan area, swarming with tourists, trekkers, climbers and bicycle rickshaws all crammed into its narrow alleys. So I’d my bike serviced, laundry done and sent a few postcards home.

As the third was my birthday, I splashed out on a pizza and a glass of wine. I even had my nose pierced even though I don’t have a nose one wants to draw attention to.

The dream of cycling from Kathmandu to Tibet was peppered with problems. First, the Tibetan border was closed to individual tourists. The only way to pass through Tibet en route to China was by an organised tour to Lhasa and then by train to China. These tours were expensive and still meant one couldn’t cycle Tibet, and a new plan was made.

Sadly, the only remaining option was to fly to Thailand and bike to China. So we bought tickets for 17th April on the notoriously unreliable Royal Nepal Airlines, as they were the cheapest.

As we’d plenty of time, Ernest spent three full days cleaning, oiling and adjusting his bike and found a replacement rear axle. I wandered the alleyways, drank coffee and read. As Thamel caters to tourists, a large variety of food was available, ranging from pizzas, felafel, Indian-, Mexican- and Tibetan food. Yak cheese and yoghurt were readily available, but I found most of the food bland after six months in India. I still ordered tasty South Indian dishes at restaurants instead of Napali food, mainly Dahl Bhat (rice and lentils). It, however, remained a novelty to order a cheese sandwich from one of the many sandwich shops in the alleys.

Before departing, I discovered the rear axle on my bike was broken. How strange, and couldn’t help wondering where Ernest found his replacement axel. A whole day was spent having a new axel fitted. Again, I was surprised at the excellent bicycle parts in Kathmandu.

 

7 April - Kathmandu – Mugling - 115km

A day that should’ve been easy riding left me exhausted (I must’ve been coming down with a cold). A short 400-meter climb took us out of Kathmandu Valley and a 1500-meter roller-coaster descent led into the Mahesh Khola Valley. The remainder of the way was an undulating ride along the Trishuli river featuring beautiful vistas. The weather was hot and dusty, quite different from a considerably cooler Kathmandu. On reaching Mugling, I was dead tired and fell asleep shortly after arriving.

Mugling is a small but busy town about halfway between Kathmandu and Pokhara, on the main road from the South (India). Therefore, the village was a popular truck and bus stop and came with constant honking and revving of lorries and busses spewing black exhaust fumes.

 

8-9 April - Mugling – Bandipur - 37km

Ernest’s birthday arrived with the hooting and revving of buses and trucks. The path continued west in the direction of Pokhara but following thirty kilometres of cycling, we turned off to Bandipur. The way to Bandipur was along a sharp eight-kilometre climb. The notorious air pollution meant chest infection was a common occurrence. In Kathmandu (as in India), the air pollution made nearly everyone wear masks when out in traffic. I should’ve done the same.

I subsequently discovered my rear brake didn’t release completely. No wonder I was tired the previous day. Finally, halfway up the hill, I released the brake, after which cycling became far more effortless.

An extra day was spent in Bandipur, giving my chest a chance to recover and to explore the area around Bandipur.

 

10-11 April - Bandipur – Pokhara - 70km

An exhilarating descent led to the main road (I ensured my rear brake was secured) and then a steady climb to Pokhara. Unfortunately, Ernest had a puncture on the way down. He had to do repairs whilst observed by a group of intrigued children. The day was a clear one and offered good panoramas of snowy Annapurna.

Being election time in Nepal, the strike meant no vehicles were allowed on the road. Great for cycling, with no traffic or diesel fumes. Only grand scenic vistas.

Pokhara is as touristy as Kathmandu and sported hundreds of trekking shops, restaurants and guesthouses. It’s a picturesque place on Lake Phewa, featuring good views of the Annapurna range and Mt Machhapuchhare. One can find almost anything from cheese (Yak cheese) to toiletries, clothing and climbing gear. All vastly different from rural Nepal, but a luxury if one had been travelling or walking in the mountains for an extended time.

On the 13th of April, I took the bus to Kathmandu instead of biking the same route for the 3rd time in 2 weeks. Ernest, not one to take a bus, decided to cycle. I found the bus no less tiring, but at least the bus only took one day instead of three.

 

13-16 April - Kathmandu

In Kathmandu, I walked slap-bang into Nepali New Year’s Eve celebrations. The streets were crowded, and one could barely move. Bars and restaurants were filled to the brim, and music could be heard through the night—what a festive atmosphere. However, the exciting part was finding the Nepali Calendar 57 years ahead of the Gregorian calendar, thus 2066.

 

17 April – Kathmandu, Nepal – Bangkok, Thailand - By Air

We left our room at 05h00 and pedalled through the quiet dark streets of Kathmandu to the Airport to catch our flight to Bangkok, Thailand. There was, however, no need for our early arrival. The flight, scheduled to leave at 9h00, only departed at 11h15. Thus, following a two-and-a-half-hour flight, our flight landed in Bangkok after 15h30 (local time).

Upon arrival, the sweltering heat of Thailand was immediately evident. After an expensive taxi ride into the city, a guesthouse in touristy Banglamphu was located. We huffed, puffed, and sweated, but finally, the bikes were reassembled and panniers repacked.

A walk along the immensely touristy street of Khao San Road, with its bars, restaurants and street food vendors, gave us our first taste of Bangkok.

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!