23rd October 2013 Gone Fishing!

Today was a fishing day. No motorcycles whatsoever.
I set out early, flat seas and a beautiful journey out to a great fishing spot....

I caught 6 mangrove jack snappers... The biggest of which was 7.1kg
(7100g, 5400g, 4200g, 3750g....)

11th October 2013 Panvel, India to Arambol, India

11th October 2013 Panvel, India to Arambol, India

I awoke to the gentle conversation between rain drops and leaves. Woods Resort has lush green lawns, white egrets were dotted about them.

I have said this before but the road to Goa is a fab road. Sweeping twists and turns, ascending and descending the Konkanghats. It rained periodically and when it did I pulled up under a banyan tree with other motorcyclists. Under one banyan I met 3 bikers… riding motorcycles for the joy of it rather than as budget transport.

I enjoyed my final day of riding, maybe a blessed conclusion to this particular adventure. I headed for Arambol to chill out in the anonymity of a backpacker beach village where I am unknown to locals.  It may sound strange for I am not spiritual, but I paused for prayer outside an old Portuguese church. To give thanks for many things……..

I ate well under the stars on a sandy beach fringing the Arabian sea. I went back to my room and fell asleep with the light on fully clothed. I wasn’t even aware of sleep taking a hold of me.

I know that I now face a period of adjustment. This takes time. It has its up and it downs. Moments of triumph and euphoria, questions that I have to answer of myself, contemplation about whether the adventure justified its dangers, the separation from my family. It takes time to return to the demands of real life. On the road you ride, you don’t live real life. I will now become a father again, make money, exit the adventure, run the race.

One thing I am certain of is this; I am unlikely to ride this particular road again. Maybe just maybe if my son wanted to ride the road to India with his father I might acquiesce. Maybe I might drive with a camper van, but ride a motorcycle…. Probably not.

Thankyou to my family for the gift of freedom.Thankyou to all the people along the many roads that lead to India who expressed interest in my ride, to those who shared a
conversation or a meal with me.

 

 

 

 

Arambol mileometer 23216, 294 miles ridden. Journey over.

Total mileage Loughborough to Arambol 7186 miles (11,500Km), 27 days. Google maps say the journey is 7020 miles. I got lost quite a few times!

10th October 2013 Ahmedabad, India to Panvel, India

10th October 2013 Ahmedabad, India to Panvel, India

From Ahmedabad in the direction of Mumbaifor the first 100km or so, there is an express highway. Last year I entered the highway and illegally raced from one end to the other. This year I decided to do things differently. I took the state highway out of the city…. What a ball aching mistake. The traffic was horrendous, culminating in the crossing of a major river on a “just about” 2 lane bridge. Although only 600 metres or so long the bridge crossing probably took 30 minutes. I then moved from one medium sized Gujarati town to another, getting clogged up in each.

Finally satnav took me to the exact same express highway that I had sought to avoid. It seemed fate had drawn me to the highway and so I waited for a truck to turn into the slip road. I followed closely behind until I got to the toll gates then nipped around the truck and barriers and sped away. Naughty boy x 2 x years.

The Expressway is a lovely road but standards are slipping. Unroadworthy trucks had broken down at many points…. Labourers maintained the hedges on the central reservation, inches from speeding cars….All a little unsafe… I was encouraged to think that English men riding powerfull bikes really ought to be allowed to ride freely between Ahmedabad and Vadora ;-)

After Vadora, is a 400km stretch of national highway to Mumbai. It is a busy 6 lane road with many trucks and little lane discipline. From time to time it rained. Short bursts of post monsoon shower. I changed in and out of my waterproofs several times before reaching Mumbai. Satnav took me around the city on a seemingly perfect route. I travelled from north to south in less than an hour. I stopped for a chai and then looked for a hotel in Panvel, at the beginning of the Goa road. I checked out Woods Resort, nice place, internet not working. I was determined to check emails, use skype etc. I headed a further 16km along the Goa road in the dark. Heavy traffic, pot holes hidden in the blackness. The luxury hotel that had been recommended to me was full (and its internet wasn’t working…) I tried to search out a local guesthouse, they were all full or were disinterested in accommodating me!?

I’ll tell you the truth about overland adventure…… the journey Is less of a road, more of a rollercoaster. There are moments where experience grinds you down to a fine dust ready to be blown away on the first gust of wind into oblivion. Hope, patience and sanity is sometimes all but exhausted. “Overland express” where you ride and ride with no periods of recuperation makes matters worse. It is tough, physically and mentally. I have a bad habit of very quickly romanticizing my adventures…. I only remember the positive. Let this be a brief record and reminder of the dips that the rollercoaster sometimes takes…….

I turned round and headed back towards Woods Resort 2500Rs. I didn’t bother trying to negotiate a better rate, I hurriedly checked in and self medicated with Kingfisher…..

Panvel mileometer 22920, 357 miles ridden

9th October 2013 Jaipur India to Ahmedabad, India

9th October 2013 Jaipur India to Ahmedabad, India

A little bit of a struggle to leave Jaipur, satnav doing it usual thing and taking me through backstreets and bazaars. The roads from Jaipur, southbound, are state highways. They are superior to the national highways. Today’s riding was a great deal more comfortable, far fewer roadworks and the diversions that go with them.

At one point a huge troop of monkeys spilled out of the jungle onto the road in front of me. Although I couldn’t capture the size of the group in my photos there were 50 or more animals. They had congregated because there was a fruit seller and cart by the side of the road…. The seller and monkeys seemed to have an understanding!

I reached the outskirts of Ahmedabad at 5.30 and on local advice headed for the airport and the decent hotels that are always in the vicinity…… I checked into the Airport Residency 2200Rs. Good wifi.

I called up a friend who lives in Ahmedabad. He picked me up from the hotel and we spent a pleasant evening eating and drinking at his apartment. Ahmedabad is the capital of Gujarat state. It is home to more than 6,000,000. Its recent history is a sad stain on modern India. In communal violence between Hindus and Muslims, 1000’s of Muslims were murdered. Ahmedabad was the birthplace of Ghandi, founding father of Independent India. He abstained from alcohol and so does the state. That being so, I have to admit we drank beer and whisky, sorry Ghandi, sorry Gujarat.

Ahmedabad mileometer 22563, 412 miles ridden

8th October 2013 Karnal, India to Jaipur India

8th October 2013 Karnal, India to Jaipur India

I have vivid memories of driving through Dehli last year. So this year I attempted something different. I exited the highway at Sonipat to take a number of minor state highways to circumnavigate India’s capital. On Google maps and on my Satnav this appeared to be straight forward…. A simple proposition. Within minutes I was lost. On a map India’s towns disguise themselves as small villages. In reality they are thriving metropolises. Traffic is always at a standstill in the bazaar area of any Indian town, and Satnav always took me through. Satnav gave me directions to a railway line, the level crossing for which was blocked. I spent an hour attempting to take directions to escape and then experimenting with various roads. This situation repeated itself through the morning.

My important fast food investigation continued...... In India the sacred cow makes no contribution to the Menu. As an alternative McD India offers the Maharaja Mac.

If you boil riding across continents down… you end up with 3 main travel experiences enjoyment, challenge and survival. This morning’s riding offered challenge and survival.

Finally I exited a rural landscape onto the NH8, heading south from Dehli towards Rajasthan. Much the same as the NH1. I reached Jaipur via the town of Amber. The last few miles of the day’s journey were beautifull. I entered Jaipur and had a ride round, stopping to take photos and be a tourist. Wherever or whenever I stop, the bike attracts immediate attention. Even If I deliberately pull up on the side of the motorway to pause for thought…. Young males appear from thin air to ogle. People take photos and if I am more than a few metres away start molesting my bike, prodding, pressing…. My satnav has not been working well for the last few days. I am fairly certain someone tried to operate the touch screen with a key or something hard. The screen now keeps jumping to various route finding pages when least required. When people look at the bike they often ask questions… “How much..” is by far the most common. I really don’t like giving a price because by Indian standards the bike is obscenely expensive… and so I often lie and say $5000. Today several tourist tat shopkeepers who know about the value of anything and everything said they wanted to buy it, doubling and quadrupling their offers within seconds.

I found a hotel and checked in ,reassured by secure parking and the promise of good internet. I logged onto the Wifi network, good signal but no internet! The receptionist had cynically told me that Wifi was available and taken payment for the room …. Metres away the hotel owner sat trying and failing to access the internet.

I took a walk in the dark to buy snacks. Labourers lay asleep on the pavement, nothing to lie on, no sheet to cover themselves with. Riding halfway round the world is fairly tough (and in the afterglow of the adventure it is easy to forget quite how tough) however not as tough as the life of someone truly, merely surviving on India’s streets.

Jaipur mileometer 22151, 251 miles ridden

7th October 2013 Amritsar, India to Karnal, India

7th October 2013 Amritsar, India to Karnal, India

I checked out late at 11.30. I made the decision to relax a little catch up on my blog and not worry about any destination in particular.

It is very easy to forget how wild India’s roads and road-users are. Many Indian drivers are simply moronic. Single carriage way roads are the most frightening. Drivers make overtaking manoevers that are ludicrous. As a motorcyclist…. If you are in the way as an oncoming vehicle ploughs toward you travelling along “your” carriageway, prepare to give way by riding off the side of the road. Double overtaking is not out of the question, a vehicle overtaking a vehicle which is overtaking a vehicle on a single carriageway road. India’s drivers make Pakistani drivers look like timid, rule loving, safety conscious pussies.

What to say about India’s roads…. Pakistan’s are better…. Almost enough said, India be very ashamed, very very ashamed. If any Government minister reads this (haha…. unlikely indeed) I would heartily recommend that you hop on a plane to China. Take a ride on their highways…..

Having being so savage about India’s road etc I would say that India has its positives… The first thing you notice as you cross the border from Pakistan are women. Women in every societal role. In Pakistan women are sadly all but invisible. They rarely work in public places, and are only seen occaisionally in the back of a rickshaw…… India is a vibrant chaotic riot of noise and colour. Pakistan is far more sombre.

I rode till past dark. I found a great Motel, Savoy Greens 2200IR. It was in a complex which included a MacDonalds, A Domino’s and a Costa Coffee. Within a kilometre of the hotel was and “English Wine Shop” I bought Hoegardden, Kingfisher and Whisky. Greedy, yes.

Karnal mileometer 21900, 203 miles ridden

6th October Multan 2013, Pakistan to Amritsar, India

6th October Multan 2013, Pakistan to Amritsar, India

We left the Sheza Inn at 7.15am and reached the NH5 within 15 minutes or so. Very light traffic and an easy city exit. The NH5 was remarkably quiet, a few trucks, a few cars and the usual assortment of man and beast. I wonder if traffic is lighter on a Sunday… or is that a ridiculous thought? By 9.15 we had covered in excess of 100 miles. We stopped for our final Pakistani Petrol at about 11.00. We said our farewells, Thomas, to head in the direction of Islamabad, to ride the Karakouram Highway, me to Wagah border, to cross to India. We rode together till the fork in the motorway and then reached out and grasped hands, It was an emotional moment, I enjoyed the time I spent with Thomas, I will miss his company.

The road into Lahore was relatively clear, to go to Wagah you simply drive ahead. The route runs through the city parallel to a canal, under multiple underpasses and finally when you can go no further you turn left and the after a mile or so, swing right on GT Road to the border.

The Pakistan customs officers wasted no time processing my carnet, it felt like I had interrupted them from something to which they wanted to return. I walked over to immigration and was invited to sit…. “no electricity”. Immigration is computerised and so I could go no further until the power cut had ended. I took out my laptop and stood at one of the immigration consoles to write up my blog. In time the ceiling fans whirred back to life signalling a return to normalilty. I did wonder if the staff had turned off the power to guarantee a break?

Onward to the famous Wagah corridor. I took a few quick photos to mark my arrival in India and headed for their border centre. It is notably bigger than Pakistan’s, probably a political statement. Immigration was brisk. Customs were strict. They examined every last item in my panniers, I removed spare parts from their boxes, explained how an air pump worked, unzipped the gel pad on my seat, removed my seats. By bags were x ray’d, they examined my jacket and enquired about the armour, checked the contents of my fuel tank and finally almost as an afterthought checked the chassis number on my bike and processed the carnet.

I attached my helmet to the rear of the bike and rode from the border at a deliberately ponderous pace. Riding slowly on India’s roads in the direction of Amritsar, allowed me time to think. I wondered as to whether I would ever ride the same roads again, I thought about family and friends, contemplated the minutes, hours, days and weeks I have been away from home. Tears streaked the travel grime that inevitably accumulates while riding on hot dusty roads.

Wagah border mileometer 21679, 222 miles ridden Multan to Wagah, 5649 miles ridden over a period of 22 days from Loughborough, England to Wagah border, India.

Amritsar mileometer 21697

5th October 2013 Sukkur, Pakistan to Multan, Pakistan

5th October 2013 Sukkur, Pakistan to Multan, Pakistan

A fairly miserable day…. riding while feeling crook. The NH5 is a decent enough road, no escorts, no checkpoints.

We had choices…. Ride into Multan, Pakistan’s 5^th largest city or ride past and stop at Khanewal, close to the highway. We elected for Multan on the basis that continuing on the highway any longer was marginally more unpleasant than negotiating a huge city. We arrived at the outskirts and negotiated a rickshaw escort/guide. The young driver got out of his rickshaw and onto the back of my bike….

Sheza Inn, the Lonely Planet describe it as Multans 2^nd best hotel. It was OK. 3000PR + 25% luxury tax (debateable as to whether we benefitted from any luxury…) As we entered a security guy searched us and our bags for alcohol! We took off on a beer hunting expedition, we found beer but bought none. A sad state of affairs… the “Permit office” staff told us that we could only drink it in a secret place, not in their office, not on the street and not in our hotel. L

Multan Mileometer 21178 (234 miles ridden)

4th October 2013 Quetta, Pakistan to Sukkur, Pakistan

4th October 2013 Quetta, Pakistan to Sukkur, Pakistan

We exited the city, passed from one police mobile unit to another. We skirted tented slums blanketed in the thickest smog I have ever seen…. The origin of this smog…. brick kilns. It was, I imagined, something like “The black country” Birmingham, prior to and entering the industrial age.

Take a look at this youtube video of Quetta morning traffic...... blanket of smog in the background

http://youtu.be/xPx1Oe_h3g8

Leaving the city we were escorted by district Police, stopping at many, many checkpoints. Our route for the day Quetta to Sibi, Sibi to Jacobad, Jacobad to Sukkur. The road falling from Quetta to Sibi is very beautifull. Quetta is at an altitude of almost 2000 metres, even in summer it is cool. Winter must be horrific for the slum dwellers. The road follows a river gorge, it is spectacular, I looked on with envy as village people played in river pools.

Our day’s ride was pleasant enough allowed marred by an unbelievable number of escorts and checkpoints…. Sometimes we rode at 15mph and never above 45mph. Within an hour of sunset I made the decision to break away from the escorts, otherwise we would have been travelling in, and finding a hotel in the dark. The roads were great and we rode at 60-70mph. The escorts simply gave up and let us be.

We arrived in Sukkur and checked into the City Palace Guesthouse 2300PR. It was a Friday so no beer was available…… We ate takeaway pizza and retired to our rooms. We were both ill through the night. At one point in the night I heard a light knocking…. I wondered whether it was a thief checking to see if I was asleep… un-nerving. A poorly night.

Sukkur Mileometer 21178 (234 miles ridden)

3rd October 2013 Collecting travel documents, Quetta Pakistan

3rd October 2013 Collecting travel documents, Quetta Pakistan

Once you have arrived in Quetta you become a cog inside a machine. A day after arrival you must visit the Government of Baluchistan offices and request an NOC (no objection certificate). This is a lengthy, whole day process. We travelled to the government office in an AutoRickshaw guarded by cops on a bike. At one point a donkey cart appeared to race us….. At the first office we visited, a very irate Italian guy in a wheelchair turned up. He had apparently had some very poor experiences with local police. His name was Fabio, he travelled the world in a converted car…. He was returning from a trip where he had covered 30,000 km, travelling through all the countries I had travelled through plus Uzbekistan, Tajikistan…..

Fabio had recently upgraded to a Renault Duster, having covered 700,000 km around the globe in a Fiat Panda.

Most of the staff in the Home Affairs department are kind and helpful, tea is offered on a number of occaisions. I took my laptop with me and wrote up a little of my blog to make use of waiting hours.

NOC in hand we headed back to the BloomStar. The staff informed us that a Petrol strike had begun. We had seen something that confirmed this! My bike had run so low the previous night that I had been worried that I might run out en route to the hotel. The dramatic performance from one of the staff was spellbinding “Oh sir, big problem, big, big problem. No petrol available….” He then listed all the local petrol stations stroking his chin in supposed deep contemplation…. “I have a friend who may be able to help… very expensive” We finally settled on 240PR a litre, having paid 113PR on our journey to Quetta. We purchased 20 litres… it arrived apparently by rickshaw, for which we paid 200PR…..

The following morning we were ready to depart at 7.00am, the time dictated by the NOC. The police arrived and we set out, 500 metres later we passed a petrol station……. Yes you guessed it, doing what petrol stations do….

2nd October 2013 Taftan, Pakistan to Quetta Pakistan

2nd October Taftan, Pakistan to Quetta Pakistan

We left the compound at 7.20am….. Our escort, 2 Levies riding a Chinese 125cc motorcycle, that with God’s speed managed 40mph. After a very short while the Levies gestured for us to proceed ahead of them. We never saw them again. 

The road from Taftan to Quetta is approximately 380 miles long. It traverses all manner of desert and runs parallel to and at a distance of 10 to 20 miles from the Afghan border. The road is considered to be very dangerous. Yesterday the police had repeatedly told of its risks…. Taliban, Separatists, Dacoits. Today we are riding the very same road alone…. That is until we reached the first check-point. The road had 30 or so checkpoints along its length. At each checkpoint you have to fill out a logbook with hand written columns. Each log book has its own individual requirements… Name, fathers name, passport number, visa number, origin, destination and country… any combination of, some, or all of the above. I noted in several logbooks the column heading Cuntry.

Our next escort was a young guy carrying an AK47. He rode pillion on the back of Tomas’s bike.

Temperatures rose to 41 degrees and remained at this level for most of the day. The desert is populated by many camels and few people. Much of the desert is a completely flat stony wasteland. The road is very quiet. The stretch from Taftan to Nokundi is mixed with some fairly poor stretches. From Nokundi to Dalbandin to the road is excellent and we travelled very fast. Tomas’s bike suffered under the burden of 2 men and heavy panniers so I carried successive escorts for 200 miles or so. It is an odd feeling having a guy sat behind you at 80mph, carrying an AK47 across his thighs or in various other positions as he attempts to hang on.

At Dalbandin the police used the now, well worn phrase “Time out” we politely told them that we could reach Quetta with no problem before nightfall….. oh how very wrong we would prove to be. We were allowed to continue and the road worsened. Dalbandin to Nushki was really poor in parts. We arrived at Nushki at about 5.30. Only the most insistent persuasion allowed us to continue. As night fell we both hit a speed-breaker at…… speed! An aluminium pannier was ripped of Tomas’s bike and a rear wheel hugger of mine. Tomas’s pannier was re-attached with an English ratchet strap, I had to take my rear wheel off to unbolt the twisted metalwork that luckily did almost no damage. The final stretch of road approaching Quetta is in parts 4-5 miles from Afghanistan. There is no border as such. Removing your rear wheel at dusk on this road is something that you do briskly.

We finally arrived at the outskirts of Quetta at about 7.30pm, population, about 2,000,000. Quetta Is a very dangerous place. The police and army are very well organised and escort you using a series of coordinated mobile units to you chosen hotel. We requested the Gardenia Resort… which was full. We then headed for BloomStar Hotel. This is a backpacker / overlander favourite 1000PR. We finally arrived at about 9.00pm. A very lengthy, exhausting day.

Advice for the overlander…. Unless you you like very, very, long days spend the night in Dalbandin (just as the Levies Police suggest ;-) ……

The staff at BloomStar are the most gifted grifters I have ever met. They know every trick in the book. We asked for beer and were quoted 600PR a can …£4. I haggled down to 400PR. I neglected to ask about wifi when we checked in, it of course was then an additional service costing 250PR…… but the staff assured me faster then a bullet from an AK47.

BloomStar is a fair hotel… not worthy of any stars (I believe it awards itself 3) but none the less is a pleasant place to stay. They have a nice courtyard garden and are a mile or 2 from the city centre.

Today Thomas taught me some German.... "Das ist fuer den arsch" this translates to I find this situation completely unacceptable and interolerable. When a policeman asks you to write something on a scrap of newspaper for no good reason .... or when the hotel reception ask for 600PR for a beer ....Das ist fuer den arsch. 

Quetta mileometer 20944 (392 miles ridden..... too many miles!)