More than I can chew ?

I'm now at the end of day 5 of my road trip. The short version is that I have made it safely across the boarder to India and a further 390km to Delhi. I was more than a little apprehensive about returning to India after the comparative paradise that was lakeside-Pokhara, Nepal. I can only think it must feel this way to remarry your ex-wife. To be reminded of all the little quirky things that she did that made you fall in love in the first place, the mystery the wonder, then to suddenly be reminded of all the little quirky things that made you want to bury her under the patio. To say that my first 5 days were a roaring success would be an exaggeration, to say that they were a disaster would be a little dramatic.

After several days of being rained in at Lakeside I finally packed up on a cloudy day that looked like rain and said my final-final-final goodbyes to whoever was around and set off in the direction of Tansen some 120km through winding mountain roads. I soon discovered exactly how far in KMs the "event-horizon" of Pokhara actually is. It's exactly 11KM. As I tootled up the mountain roads with a deep feeling of liberation there was a "clunk" on my back wheel, my chain had come off, crap. After fixing it for the 3rd time I figured it would better to head back down the road back to Pokhara and get a mechanic to take a look. I soon discovered that the reason my chain was coming off was that my back bearings were shot. After watching the man wedge in a bit of old bent wire to keep my bearings in place I figured it was a good idea to take a visit back to Ram-Babu the mechanic who made my bike in the first place. Ohh the embarrassment of seeing some old faces as I reentered town. How could I stay another night. After Ram-babu fixed up the wheel properly I headed off on the Tansen road again, but with not much time to make 120km through the roads in only 4hrs. About 1hr into the ride it started to rain and the temperature dropped quite a few degrees. It was bloody freezing. My fingers were numb, what a wimp. The going was slow, some 120km in 5hrs. This slow time was mainly to do with the road being single lane mud and rock in places. Every 3 km there was landslide debris and the going was very slow. I'd had enough by the time I reached the hill town on Tansen and found a cheep hotel. Next day I set off for Butwal only bout 20km but this time climbing down the hills. There did not seem to be enough downs as there were ups, the law of up and down (otherwise known as Dibners Law) did not appear to be valid in these parts. I used the downs to freewheel for two reasons. Firstly to cool down the engine after the laborious climbing and secondly to conserve my meager 12litres of petrol (remember there is very little in Nepal right now). Once past Butwal the road was meandering and of extremely good quality. It followed the line about 30km from the India boarder just below the hills. I was hoping that I would be safe from the monsoon here. Ohh how I was wrong. About 2pm it started and did not stop. I pulled over under some trees in the middle of nowhere on the forest road. I pulled the rain cover over firestarter and looked back on my bags to see I had already managed to lose my waterproof pants. It would not have mattered for I realised that my jacket was hardly waterproof. More like water concept proof, it could withstand having the word "water" directed at it but anymore than this it suffered badly. I was soaked...totally soaked to the skin, the rain was relentless. I stood across under another tree and watched the rain. After about 1hr I decided I should seek better shelter, but she would not start, the custom Bullet petrol tank run-off was positioned directly above the spark plug. So I pushed her for about 1KM until I found an old concrete bus shelter. Here I striped and wrung out my clothes and did all I knew to get the bike started. After 1hr of trying I figured that the shelter was as good a place as any to spend the night. I had resigned myself to trying out my 2nd hand sleeping bag when a local lad walked by and told me in broken English of a nearby village down a previously unseen dirt road. A night with the tribals, I thought, excellent. I put the bits back on the bike and give it one last kick for good luck. It started. Off I set again trying to reach NepalGanj before it went dark. I was full of optimism until I ran out of petrol and had just enough momentum to carry me down to the next petrol station, which like the other 30 on the way was dry. I asked around for somewhere to stay, someones floor, anywhere. Luckily a local man took pity and found me 1litre of petrol and told me the next town 1km away had a hotel and a pump with fuel. I pulled in the next station and he was right, I filled up 13litres and checked in the hotel across the road. By now it was pitch dark. As I lay on my bed I wondered if I had bitten off more than I could chew. What a day. Well what a couple of days. Then this is what it's all about, the adventure, not knowing who you will meet and what town you will be in and where you will be sleeping.
The next morning, keen to get going again I looked out of my window. I was not going anywhere. The monsoon was back with a vengeance. Trapped in this nameless, nowhere dirt track town. Boredom set in, how tedious.
The next day I waited until 9:30am for a break in the rain and set off. The road was very much the same, great conditions, but this time I had entered a different region of Nepal. A region of unrest as could be seen by the burnt out petrol stations, buses and trucks scattered along the road sides. I was allowed through several Maoist road blocks and an equal number of police check points. The rain came and went but never got serious. I passed through a Royal National Park with spectacular scenery. I was aiming for Mahenhranagar the town near Indian boarder on the very west of Nepal. As I said the road was in great condition, but not all the way. It is easy to be fooled when for 5km the road is perfect then suddenly it goes to bombed out conditions and then disappears all together under a fast flowing river. The first river I crossed I went a little too fast, learning (nearly) the hard way that there could be big potholes under the water. I was lucky as I wobbled but regained balance. The second river I had to cross was over knee height and after the last water related problems with firestarter I was worried I'd be stuck in the middle of nowhere again. I reached Mahehdernagar it around 2pm with an arse that felt like it was made of granite. That's right I think I need to buy myself a nice soft girlie cushion at some point. The boarder was slack I nearly drove right past the Nepal Immigration office. Funny, in this part of the world how there is nice tarmac running up to a boarder crossing then as soon as you reach no-mans land the surface disintegrates to dirt and rocks. I guess no one is responsible for making a road in no-mans land. I was surprised how easy it was to do the paper work for my bike in India, I was in and out in 30mins or less. The India customs did not even check my bike, I mean they did not even leave the office to see if I actually had a bike with me. Now what to do? I had made such good time on the drive here, but I was keen to make up for the day sat waiting the rain out. My road map was basic, but the gods decided and I have got a bit lost, headed kinda south west instead if west and I'm now in a the forgotten town of Pilibhit some 350km east of Delhi. I was going to press on to a town 50km farther west, but firestarter stopped again. She clearly had had enough for one day. The bond is being made, I'm even starting to talk to her. I might be mad by the time I get home.
On this final day of my blog entry I set off in the general direction of Delhi, but with no real hope of making over 350km. The first 70km took me over 3hrs, the roads looked and felt like they had been land mined. Unlike the rest of the places in India that I have visited no one speaks any English. It's so different, you see things so differently being on a bike. Visiting places in no guide book. Some places look totally forgotten, not even a bird in the sky, or if there are they fly upside down.
After about 4hrs I hit a really fantastic road, perfect and hit my cruising speed of 55km/hr. It would be crazy to drive any faster. The KM clicked way and after 7hrs I was in reach of Delhi as long as the road remained in good condition. I knew I was getting near as I drove past the slums and rubbish dumps the sky blackened with the thousands of eagles circling, looking for mice and rats feeding on the rubbish. After over 9hrs and nearly 350km I have arrived in Delhi. Back at the Majors Den hotel for a night. I have had a shower, cleaned my teeth and all I need now is a cold beer and a bottie massage and the day will be signed off as a success.
Tomorrow north West in the general direction of Amritsar.


Here's a summary so far
Day 1: Pokhara to Tansen = 130km (5hrs)
Day 2: Tansen to nameless town 20km from Nepalganj = 240km (11hrs)
Day 3: Monsooned in
Day 4: Nameless town to Pilibhit (260km) 8hrs
Day 5: Pilibhit to Delhi (320km) 9hrs

Well I'm defiantly in India, the beeping of the horns. I have already stood in something unsavory on the way to try and find an Internet cafe. I have had 2 attempts to cheat me, but both failed, I'm too sharp now. It's hot too, humid, mossies the works.

I'm off to repack my bags now, having my laptop over the petrol tank with the bungy net appears to have put some strain on the motherboard. It keeps turning itself on and off of its own free will. Hopefully putting it in the main bag at the back might give it a break, but this means having all the weight over the back rather than some on the front. The experimentation starts.

Stuck by the lakeside

Well as the locals and ex-pats told me before, this place is like the twilight zone, once here it's impossible to leave, kinda reminds me of the line from the Eagles "hotel California". Yet another delay, this time the rain. It's been sunny for about 2 weeks, then the morning I am setting of it rains and rains and rains and it is still raining. I must had said my good-byes about 5-6 times now, it's getting a bit embarrassing no-one believes me anymore. There is some good news though, I borrowed my friend clares phone for she had the same model as my water drenched one and after a set of trial and error experiments I worked out that only my battery was buggered. So 500Rs later and I have a new one and I'm back in photo action. John has been forgiven (for now) and as a very nice surprise he bought me a good-bye t-shirt to take on my travels. The night before last was my official last night, but I had a second last night, last night in my local bar, where (like at the Gurkha's party) I joined the band and did my best to sing Queens "I want to break-free". I have a video recording of it so when I'm next on a good connection I'll upload it to freely advertise my embarrassment. So I've decided to upload some more pictures. There is a great one of the local "virgin" mountain known in English as "fishtail" and Machapuchare in Nepali. It's known as virgin because no-one has managed to climb to the top since a British lead expedition in 1957 failed. It's now off limits to all as it is revered as a "god" to the local triable people. Speaking of fishtail there is a picture of me and my pall Pradeep the owner of the famous fishtail lodge on the lake here. Guests included Jimmy Carter and Prince Charles. I go to swim in the pool on a hot day. There is a picture of me playing pool. Another picture of me with 'firestarter" with helmet just to show my mum and dad that I have at least bought one. On a rainy day there is not much to do other than eat and read and go to the internet cafe. This of course was before Neil my American teacher-journalist-Maoist expert friend gave me the new series of Battle-Star-Galactica on DVD. Now I can go and watch 15 episodes back2back when I get home.
As you might have noticed I have mentioned far more people in this blog entry than ever before, there is a reason for this. My blog address is now out of the bag in Lakeside, so I thought I'd better be nice and not slag them all off in case any of them read what I write. Ohh yeah before I forget I need to give my ego a bit of a massage, so here's a link to the movie I stared in while living in Bangalore. It's in 5 parts so might take a while to download. The movie came in the top 5 of its categorie at the NewYork film festival as reviewed by TimeOut NewYork.

http://vegnonveg.com/EX-PATS.html

Also John suggested I should try and get some sponsorship for my journey, so I emailed several newspapers and GPS companies etc etc. The only success on this front was unfortunately not any sponsorship but a mention in my hometowns local-rag the world famous Oldham-Chronical. Check it out, it made me laugh and smile.

www.oldham-chronicle.co.uk/NEWSTH14.html

Bye for now.

Back on the road

Tomorrow I plan to set off on my epic journey. I managed to get 12 litres of black market petrol and think this will be enough to get me at least 400km. I will head to the hill station of Tanzen only about 80KM away but through long winding mountain roads, so should take about 3hrs. Then in about a week cross into India at the north west corner of Nepal and head straight across to the only boarder crossing with Pakistan.
I took my bike for a 5 days ride across the country to Kathmandu stopping at a few places of interest and natural beauty. Back in Kathmandu I went back to the Nirvana Peace Home and found that Kristal, Cloe, Louise, Dev and Anna where all still there from my last visit. Was good to see my old friends and catchup, though this time I managed to stay away from the crazy bars and just chill on the hotel lounge and rooftop. There was a little bit of excitement on the last day. Anna has made a date "modification" to her Nepali VISA and during her renewal it was spotted. Ohhh dear, she was locked up and her passport taken away. She was let out a few hrs later and told she had to leave the country immediately, she was very lucky indeed. I gave her a lift back from the hotel to the immigration office on firestarter, but since today was the big rally/demonstration by the Maoists it was tricky to get across town, but we did. On the final few streets to the immigration office we came across the main demonstration, 1000s of people in red waving flags and police road blocks. What do you? We needed to get through. So I nipped back around the other side of the police and we headed slowly on firestarter into the crowd. We did not get far before being stopped. We pleaded, telling them the nasty government was going to lock up poor Anna and she would never get home to France. It must have helped that firestarter is commie red for we were allowed through....success.

I also got a dose of the dreaded "red-eye" while in Kathmandu and riding back through the Himalayas for 5.5hrs with conjunctivitis was less than pleasant. This would be a test for my skills in homeopathy. I had got a full kit of 88 remedies while in Kathmandu (for less than a tenner) and the next day my red-eye was gone 80% and after 4 days gone completely. The other cases I had seen (it's all over Nepal) takes 5 days of deep red and 2-3 weeks to go completely, so I was pleased. Aconite did not work, neither did Belladonna, but on the 5th hr I took Apis 1M and my eyes started to leak sticky white glue. Then bingo.....gone. Nice.
I am afraid that today there are no photos to show you. Not that I did not take them, it's more that my phone camera is buggered. My dear friend John from Halifax who shall remain nameless thought it would be fun to wrestle me to the floor at the monsoon flooded dance floor at the Gurkha party and since then my phone has been on the blink. I hope Verity will send me my new one to Lahore in a weeks time via courier. What to do? Go to Kathmandu? (sorry people say that around these parts).
Another famous Nepali saying is that "a man and a woman are 2 wheels of a cart". I always thought carts had 4 wheels?

I am still waiting (6weeks) for my Iranian VISA but hopefully it will arrive in Lahore by the time I get there. Iran is the country I am looking forward to visiting the most, everyone who has come over land that I meet says it's the most friendly and hospitable place they have visited. Funny how our media tells us a different story.
The only complaint I hear about Iran is that there are only so many times you can stop in a day for free food and cups of tea.
Anyway it's time to head off, I have lost of people to say goodbye too and dinner at Dons tonight with a few other people. It might be time to leave too because the Maoists resigned from the government 3 days ago and they started to close some of the boarders. I think there might be a little unrest around the corner.

One year on: Firestarter is born

Well folks from the title you might have guessed that it has been exactly a year to the day that I boarded flight BA120 from London Heathrow to Bombay India. It's a year since I walked down the steps from the plane to a bombardment of new sensory stimulation. The smells; flowers, spices, clay ovens, open sewers, rotting flesh. It is safe to say I did suffer from India shock though I did or realize or admit it for quite some time. My return flight from Mumbai to Heathrow took off without me yesterday afternoon, so now I am committed to returning back to euroland overland. Time has gone past pretty quickly, I guess because I moved on to the next place whenever I felt like it, that's the best thing about traveling alone. No discussions when you arrive somewhere if you eat now or later, where to sleep, where to eat. You do what you want when you want. Of course there can be lonely moments and moments which are better shared. But when you consider that when you travel in a couple or a group that you just DON'T meet people like you do when you are alone, there is just no substitute.

If you remember the trauma I suffered when I had to retire my flip-flops I got from Bondi beach, you can only imagine how I must be feeling about the retirement of my pants I got from GAP in Pikeleys-Bayswater. I had been wearing the same 2 pairs of pants for exactly a year and as you can imagine after many washes and patch up jobs they both finally started to fall apart. Each cut, stain and stitch has a story to tell. Like when the Bombay Taxi driver tired to slash open a side pocket with a razor blade under his finger nail to get at my wallet. Luckily it was bulging so much with fat dirty Sterling what it did not fit through the gap. I was of course considering hanging onto them for a bit longer. My theory was that if I get stuck in a desert somewhere without food, then at least I'll be able to take off my pants and boil them, giving a tasty and nutritious broth that could sustain me for a few days at least. Regardless, they had to go, sad to get attached to a pair of trousers. I have replaced them with my own design, tailor made, zips, quick drying very thin material, with secret pockets, the works. Not bad for 5squid. Hopefully they will last as long.


Well back to the blog. For the past few weeks I've been exclusively devoting my time to designing and over seeing the customization and the modifications to my bike. Also I have been spending a fair amount of time hanging out at Rajus Royal Enfield Bullet Surgery, as well as Busy-Bee bar for my nightly pool hustling. Well this week, my bike was finally ready. After much anticipation the mechanic kicked over the newly board out engine and 'firestarter" was born. That's right my new bike, she is called firestarter. When I first asked Rick to make me one, my instructions where "don't worry about how she looks, just make sure she can get me home". Over the past few weeks, this all all gone to pot. I've totally changed my tune. My god, now I know how the grease heads and bikers feel and those sados who rub down and polish the same spots on their bikes and cars each weekend. Guarding their "princesses" from grubby children's fingers. I had to take the horn off, just to repaint the bracket (that no-one can see) because the black was a little more faded than the rest of the frame. I spent two days finding clear plastic indicator lights, so they would be more discrete, then had to paint the inside bulbs with ladies red nail varnish to the indicator would flash red. They also had to be small and round to go with the over-all rounded line of the bike design.

I'VE BECOME CONSUMED.

Well I hope you like her, this is her clean and new and without the side boxes I have had built with the custom welded brackets. I have had to learn a few new Nepali words like "don't sit", "don't touch she is my wife". Where ever I go I get people all over the bike. It's a modified Yamaha RXG. Now these are fantastic bikes in terms of engine reliability and mileage, but totally city spinning rattle bags. I've changed the whole bike except for the engine and frame, so people are really intrigued about it. Being a foreigner I am able to bend the law a little and ride a modified bike. As a Nepali there is no chance to do this. Though it is very nice to have so much attention, if I am not careful, when I return to my bike, so many people have been sat on it and been "fiddling" with all the leavers that I have to spend 5mins each time putting things back the way they should be.

I've started running her in, very slow revs to open up the engine and set in the new piston rings. I ride 50km out of town past the river and dam and along through the villages. Each day the children wave and ask for chocolate. If I go early the women are washing fully clothed under the water pumps. If I go in the day they are either working in the fields, tending to the rice or walking miles and miles with wicker baskets loaded with straw or rocks, with a strap on their forehead so their neck takes most of the weight. Whatever time in the day the men sit either in the shade of the bus-stop smoking biddies or on a bench drinking tea. I saw a lot of this in India too, the women doing the hard graft while the men sit or stand around. They hang around doing bugger all, waiting for something to happen and when it does because nothing has happens for so long it gets blow up all out of proportion and then someone jumps on the situation for political gain. When the Maoists had full control of the country (except the 2 cities) they put these men to work. They said that each household must donate one man to a community project. Mostly it was to build roads, and it was at the end of the day "forced" labour. So of course the UN human rights office was all over this. It's a tricky one, for it's really a good idea, but it is an infringement, and once this is ok, what next? Forced reality TV shows?
Like I said a few paragraphs ago I have been spending quite a bit of time at Rajus Enfield garage. I'm happy to report that all the Royal Enfield crew that hangout there too have fully accepted firestarter into the family (well she does have a bullet petrol tank). On Saturday afternoon I headed to Rajus to see if he had some petrol. See I've been trying to run my bike in when there is a petrol shortage. The Nepali petrol company had again not paid the Indian importer for the last batches of petrol, so naturally they stopped sending it. A real pain in the ass. I came here for 2 weeks and again another delay in the grand plan to keep me here for longer. There has to be a reason, I've just yet to find out what it is.

Anyway back to my little story. As I arrived at Rajus for my 14th cup of tea of the day, a car pulls up with 5 Indian lads in it. They proclaim that they want to have "sexy-time" with some Nepali ladies (but as you can imagine those were not the exact words they used). So off goes one local to make the arrangements. The Indian lads follow and there is much discussion around the street. Generally on how rude, disrespectful etc etc. See the Nepalis are a proud people, they don't take insult very well and unlike their cousins south of the boarder, they can not be bought easily. They took exception to this insult. I later find out that someone in the group around the shop was in the YLC, the Maoists eyes and ears on the streets. A quick call and perhaps 5mins later the Indian boys were caught red-handed so to speak with 2 local girls and giving a proper good-hiding. A right kicking, so I hear. Luckily for the lads someone else had called the police, who arrived too late to prevent "Nepali justice" but just in time to be told by the YLC that "if they harm or abuse the girls in the cells, they will get the same treatment as the Indian boys". I tell you it's all happening a few streets back from where the tourist walk up and down all day. Not sure I agree with such violence, but it works, people behave themselves. If you commit a crime, you are publicly shamed. Paraded around for hrs and verbally abused. Made to squat down or stand on one leg for hours. Of course the UN does not agree with this, and I can see why. Who judges these people are guilty? I know I did give the UN a bit of a bashing last time. But since then I have seen perhaps evidence of one or 2 things they have done. They still swan around in big fancy cars and fly around the same spots in helicopters (in fear of getting a reduced helicopter allowance for next year if they don't run in the miles). Back to the prostitutes and the YLC telling the police they will get a beating if they abuse the women. See now the UN has introduced a special area in each police station that takes arrested females and is only manned (so to speak) by females. See not all bad.
I've also changed my views and child labour laws. Like most laws in the West they tend to go from one extreme to the next to stop some horrific even taking place and don't account for what's probably the majority of the cases that would not lead to this event happening. Of course I don't agree with Chinese sweatshops making the latest line of Donna Karen panties or Brazilian open-cast gold-mines where children practically get born into slavery. But what I do see is children "working" in hotels and restaurants. They are still children, they still play with their friends, they still have fun. Most importantly they are learning, about working and life and money. They learn respect. Kids back home, never having lifted a finger, their flesh flabby and soft, sat watching TV, minds idol. I say bring back the chimney sweeps. Seriously though, without work there is no respect for anything, we were not born to sit around, the body and mind must be kept active and this starts as soon as you're born and this is taught by your parents. Now if your parents happen to be called Wayne and Waynette, then perhaps it's better you're sterilized at birth to save yourself and the next generation the problems they have inherited. Take Dinit, the 20yr old lad who works in my hotel here. He left home when he was 10, not because his father used to beat him, but because his father wanted him to study. I know there is no relation to child labour, it's just I had nowhere else to tell you about it ;-)

My special Spanish friend Ana also left to Kathmanu on route to the Canaries leaving me with some good memories. So now the bike is ready I really am keen to get going and off on my journey.
Well I'm off my my 11th cup of tea now, I'll update my blog when I've finished waiting for petrol, waiting for my VISA and waiting for the monsoon to stop and the hoards of tourist to arrive.

It's also the Gurkha annual Ball tonight, which I have been invited to, the theme Hollywood/Bollywood. Should be interesting, seeing the army boys all dressed in Shari's.