Adventures in The Lost World 14 - Winding down

How do start a day in the wettest place on earth?
Wet.
The nightlong toil of the ceiling fans had failed to dry out our clothes. They varied from acceptably damp to 'only to be worn in emergency'.
It was so comforting that the van had arrived late and at least we could have breakfast in the dry. No need to shock our fellow diners early in the morning, at least with our clothing style.
We learnt more about the trials and tribulations of the van the previous day and were very grateful that Lovely, Doc and Vidhya could work miracles for our comfort.
It would be a late start, giving us the chance to hope the ceiling fans would circulate more humid air. But that did not work with our boots.
So it was with reluctance and at the last minute we put our dry feet with dry socks into the soaking wet boots. For some insane reason I thought talcum powder would help. It merely turned to a doughy slush in the boots, but a slightly better smelling doughy slush than the fetid slough already in there.
We were in wet weather gear, as expected.
We followed the van out of town, round the complex one way system. They had Google maps in the van, so the days distance should be shorter than taking informed guesses in the random street layout of an Indian city. Well nominally Indian anyway.

For some strange reason I ended up right behind Alex and tried not to let the group fall too far behind. I'm OK in traffic and kept us in sight, but at the edge of town there was a three way ego trip going on. A car wanted to overtake a truck that wanted to overtake a slow minivan. No quarter was offered or given so I hung back waiting for them to sort it out. The truck found a gap and raced off, well as much as a rhino can race off. Before I had to tackle that Alex had parked up so we could get a view of the lake in the mist.

 

and a chance to catch the Band of Brothers in all their finery... With some local knowledge, Alex had wandered down to a line of stalls and was summoning up freshly grilled spicy chicken. I was mid morning but that really was a treat. We bought the stall out of most of their days supply of chicken and pork fat! Sizzling hot, tangy and tender. Perfect for a damp day. 

The stalls were the only time we saw tourist tat for sale on the whole two week adventure. It was hard to get inspired by anything but the surprise was that we had not noticed the absence of shops selling souvenirs. This really is a lost world.

Michael, Will and I were happy to take it slow and steady for the rest of the ride. I was really happy. The road was wet and I had one of those bad feelings about it all. I have no idea how or why but I often get a feeling there is something around the corner and take a little extra care. The surprise is how often when I get that feeling there is something round the corner. But on a bike you can never take the absence of some extra sense to be an absence of danger. Anyway I did not want to come off on the last day.

So I pottered at the back and pretty soon had a car brake to almost zero on a wet downhill slope. Rear brake only, tap it, not enough, change down, hit the brake, wheel locks, release the brake (thanks Will and Paul), hit the brake release it. Not enough. Edge left of the car into the foot deep pothole, luckily by this time slow enough to not cause damage.

The road was more than wet, it was slimy.

A few kilometres further on, on a dual carriageway that wound aggressively down a mountainside, the back wheel again slid. The road was ready to catch anyone unaware.

When I caught up with Michael and Will who had stopped beside the road about 20 minutes later, Michael had had a similar experience. We took the rest of the wet part of the ride at a very steady pace. Safety first, ego second.

The road dried out and could speed up a little, but there were always the potholes, crazy drivers, jams and mud on the road to keep us on our footpegs.

We reached a big junction with signs for Guwaharti another 20kms away, and we knew the Jungle Resort was almost an hour from Guwaharti. We turned onto another main road and almost immediately off again for the Resort. That was a big relief.

It less an adventure than a duty when you're returning the bikes and it was good that this was a short day. Well planned Alex.

We took the bikes up 'Turn off AC. Drive in first gear' drive to the hotel. There was no elephant this time so it was easy to park up the bikes and offer congratulations and compliments all round.

There was a sense of relief. We had all made it with no serious damage to the bikes or rider. 

I'm especially happy with the friendships and camradery from this shared Adventure. It was an honour riding with this bunch of misfits!

And a great huge thank you to the team... Alex and Vidhya 

the legend that is Abhishek

 Doc and Ashraf

and of course the well named Lovely

 Thank you all for the memories

Adventures in The Lost World 13 - The wettest place in the world

The wettest place in the world

We were heading for Shillong. About 20 miles from the wettest place in the world (apart the oceans, my kids said). Mawsynram averaging almost 12 metres of rainfall in a year. 12 metres. That's a lot.

It seemed a recognisable proportion of that fell on us during this long ride.

There is new road almost all the way from Silchar to Shillong so we were due to set off at 9. The rain did not affect the scheduled departure and thoroughly geared up for rain we left at 9:20, after the day's briefing. 

Alex asked Lovely to lead us out of town as we wanted to have a day without a 'warm up', so we needed to be on the right road.

The rain started up again as soon as we set off, but there was little traffic in the town and few pedestrians so getting out of the mad traffic was relatively quick. The open road beckoned and we kept a steady pace.

The usual mix of potholes and large lorries kept us on our toes. But there were few of those, we found the reason when we came to a bridge closed to heavy vehicles.

Lucky us.

The rain came in bursts and I treated every patch of water with due care and attention. Upright and straight, accelerating away and sort of keeping up with the group. Then we hit a queue of lorries, but scooted to the right and carried on beeping away in case there was anything coming in the other direction. There was very, very little.

In close convoy we wound over and up and round and down, kilometre after kilometre, and still the trucks were parked in a queue. We got to a blockage where smaller cars had done what we were doing but ended up at a bridge face to face with on coming traffic, large trucks and buses and everything ground to a halt. Logjam.

We dodged down the left hand verge, in the centre of the lorries and down the right hand verge. It got worse.

Lewis caught up after some time. He was on Abhi's bike. His front tyre had a nail in it. Abhi would wait for the van. In the rain. Hoping the van could get through the block.

We moved logs and rocks to go through someone's garden, we went through shops and driveways and battled on.

This took about an hour.

People got out of buses and trucks to help us. Paul had a similar experience, but got a little edgy as he did not understand anyone.... and was not sure they wanted to help!

We were further back. Three people helped Michael drag his bike out of foot deep mud in a well disguised puddle. We were soaked, as much from sweat on the inside of the rain gear as the outside. Waterproofs normally work in both directions, so the rain does not get in but the sweat does not get out, so you end up soaked anyway.

It was not warm, so going at speed with wind chill the coolness set in.

After helping the boys, by walking through a ditch holding up their bikes, to gain another couple of hundred metres, then getting trucks to move the rest of the group all set off. My bike wouldn't start.

Some guys from the trucks tried a push start. The fuel was almost full, the battery good and the kill switch off. I could not figure it and knew Will or Lewis would know. But they had gone on.

I pushed the bike through the queue, I had to move forward. I got to the bridge to see the others moving off. I beeped and beeped. Over the bridge, walking the bike through foot deep water on the bridge, beeping, trying the SOS beep, and on the far side tried jump starting again with a new set of helpful truck drivers. No good.
A few minutes later, the boys had turned back figuring something was wrong. I asked Will if he could figure out what was up. I was tired and in need of a chai. No one else was really interested, they had the urge to battle on. I rode Will's bike up to a shack, but they did not sell chai, while Will got on my bike. He thought it was wet, tried a push start which didn't work and a minute later went through the basics to find the fuel had been turned off.

There is a switch at the side of the motor where you can go from the main tank to a reserve tank, which will take you some 30-50km further, in case of emergency. But between these two settings it is possible to turn off the fuel. That had happened to me. You live and learn.

We stopped for a tea a couple of minutes later. I was drenched. At that moment the traffic started moving and fifty trucks that we had spent half an hour getting through, trundled by.

It was a quick break and we were back slogging our way through the queues again. We had some difficult places where nothing was moving.
Paul's photo gives an idea...

I tried getting more trucks to move and we made some headway, but when I found what seemed to me a tight spot, with a big drop in the left, of about 200 ft. my suggestion was vetoed and I got the appropriate feedback from the rest of the group.

So we sat and waited for about 15 minutes while nothing happened. The stupidity of some drivers came to the fore as there was a spot blocked by piles of rocks on the left, where there was another big drop.

Rather than let the trucks move uphill and release space in the blocked area, coach after coach edged into any tiny gap and made the blockage worse.

There was no organisation, no traffic management and no manners.

Some of the trucks had been there since the afternoon before. And the main block was still to come.

We got better at riding on the verge, through drains and gutters, gardens and roadside slush. Lewis had a go at a pile of sand and got stuck as his rear wheel fell down the sandy slope, ending up under a truck' s wheels. He clambered over the pile and I manhandled his bike from the back while he pulled from the front. It was tiring.

Will then had a go, with the same results. More sweat. Michael and I waited for the traffic to move, which it did within a few minutes. 

We were careful once we cleared the blockage as the trucks were parked for miles on the other side of the road. Somebody may be doing what we did and overtaking.

It was getting cold and the rain was intermittent.

It got heavier. I was leading our secondary group by then and it became a real tropical downpour as we headed down the side of a mountain.
I saw Alex pop out from a shack and shout and wave. We pulled over. By this time it was like a monsoon. We were all soaked.

Alex told us to get some food as this was a difficult day and we may not get anything else to eat.
We would not wait for the truck and would push on to Shillong. We had only covered some 70 of the 216 km, it was lunchtime. 

We may not see the truck tonight, it could get stuck overnight in the 40km traffic jam, but we would figure out what to do at the destination.

The rice was warm and the curry cold, but it was food. We had a couple of cups of chai and realised there was no way we could dry out anything. I drained my boots and wrung out my socks.

So off we set again.

The main problem was a landslide.

We slithered our way up a drainage channel at the side of the road, to the front of the queue and watched a digger and bulldozer at work.

Trees were balanced precariously above the slide and would probably come down with a little more clearing. As soon as there was half a gap in the work we went. I ended up beeping furiously as a tracked vehicle closed off the gap and managed to squeeze through on some loose sand.

After that we had a careful ride with trucks backed up on the other side of the road for several kilometres. We had to be careful in case of someone coming at us overtaking everything.

But the road opened up and we got up some speed. Which became a problem as we were wet and the wind chill factor made us cold as well.

I completely missed Alex at a junction and Michael and Paul caught me up in a blaze of horns. Round we turned. On we slogged.

At one bridge I stalled in a foot of water and Paul pulled up alongside, I guess hoping not to have to get off his bike and help me out of the water. I got the bike started and off we set again. A few kilometres later Michael slowed and asked where Paul was. I'd seen him at the bridge, but not for a little while. We turned back and within a kilometre saw Paul riding up. He told us to turn around and get on with the ride. We did.

It turned out he had lost a bolt from his gear lever and had stopped to make a running repair, something complicated and mechanical and practical like using bits of a pillion passenger foot peg. But we only learnt that at the end of the day.

We carried on as fast as we dared in the wet, getting colder all the time. About 90 minutes later I was getting worn down and worried about making mistakes when we saw Alex beside a small hut. Excellent news, a chai stop.

I was shivering, as were Will and Lewis. I stripped off my waterproof, armour and t-shirt, to wring it out. Anything to stop the clothes clinging and get little layers of air. With most of the layers back on I sat by the fire at the back of the cabin, in the chimney, which was smokey but a lot warmer. The tea helped and half an hour later we were fit to continue. Only some 75 km to go. 
Alex said it would get colder and probably dark by the time we finished. If necessary we should stop and by a t-shirt if we needed something warm. That sounded an excellent idea and I asked the people in the chai stop if they had any for sale. Alex sensibly shut me up as that was far too complicated a concept to start on there and then.

The weather cheered up a bit, but not enough to warm us. Still we kept up a good pace, but I was riding without goggles. I only had sunglasses and they were worse than useless in the rain. So any speed above 60 kph was hard, especially when we went through the stinging rain. I rode with my eyes screwed up, blinking constantly.

There were a few more settlements and we bunched up as we all had to negotiate the traffic. But it was a long day and I kept looking at the milometre, counting down the distance. It ebbed, much like my strength.

Shillong spreads out for some distance so we were in close convoy for about the last five kilometres. At least we were in the town, just not at the hotel. Alex asked at least a dozen taxi drivers as we came in, but either his Scottish accent or their dialect reply did not bring any joy. We edged closer to the centre. We stopped at a petrol station that had a bunch of cabbies refuelling and waited while he asked them for directions.

I thought about food and remembered half a packet of biscuits in my pannier. As I pulled them out it was obvious they were sodden, so I squeezed them out like toothpaste to show Paul, who was put off, then nearly gagged as I stuffed some of the gooey digestive paste into my mouth. I smiled.

That was enough to keep going for another ten minutes as we wound around a one way system and suddenly, as if by miracle we were going up the drive to the Blueberry Inn.

We parked down a level behind the hotel and everyone shook hands as we got off the bikes. It was a hell of a ride.

Dragged our way up to reception, most of us were shivering, Will and me more than most. Paul said he could see one advantage of being overweight.

Our hands were waterlogged, our boots squelching. 

Michael and I had a smoke while Alex sloshed into the hotel reception. We had arrived in the dusk and now it was dark.

We really felt as if we were in the wettest place in the world.

And for the first time on the Adventure we were served cold beers. Typical.

Just standing around and chatting helped us warm up. 

The next stage was getting to the room for a well deserved hot shower and finding ways to dry our stuff.

Paul and I turned our room into a maze of hanging clothes. We grabbed a shower and got a brew going. 

I found a wind cheater in my bike bag that was dry, so dressed in a towel and a thin fluorescent yellow wind cheater, Paul and I went out to the front where Alex and Lewis were having a beer. After a bit I went and found Michael and Will. We discussed logistics about a change of clothes and Will offered the drying tip of setting the ceiling fan to full blast. Anything to circulate the air. Of course that made the room feel cold.

I went back down to rearrange our stuff. Abhi had arrived. But he was not in a good way. Paul got a bucket of warm water so Abhi could warm his feet. That made him really happy.

I went back upstairs and joined Michael and Will in bed, it was big enough and they had found a big warm blanket. But a few minutes of a crappy film later it was time for dinner. 

Michael and I put on our best (and only) towel and fluorescent yellow tops and went down to the restaurant. Will was not up for it. His modesty and wet top made it a step too far.

Food was already on the table when we got there.

Alex, Paul and Lewis were in shorts and t-shirts of varying degrees of dampness and modesty. It was really welcome that the hotel staff let us in the dining room, they were not snobby at all. I've given them a stellar rating on Trip Advisor.
We tried not to offend the other diners, but we probably did surprise them!
Alex said they probably thought we were a cult. At least I think that's what he said.

We scoffed, the food was good, we ordered more and Paul took a plate of it up to Will.

Alex ensured the kitchen would stay open for Vidhya and Doc, we had got a message they were expected to arrive about 21:30, just when the kitchen closed.

Michael went upstairs asking us to call him when the van arrived.

We hung around with another beer and another smoke and the van arrived.

That was really good news.

Of course they were tired after a full day in the van, with no break, but in the dry. We were tired, but we had showered and eaten, so we were probably seen as really lucky.

Apparently Lovely had pushed the driver to go on, even though the trucks threatened to beat them up and push the van off the road. Doc persuaded the army that they were with us foreigners, and the army remembered us, so let them through.

I have no idea what else they had to do to get through, but considering some trucks were there for more than a day they did really well.

It was time to get out of the towel and into some dry clothes. Paul found the bed had an electric blanket, so he got that going.

The internet was a really good connection so I could talk to my kids after a long absence. That was good. They had a couple of friends over and life was cool. It was good to hear and see them again. I was ready to go home.

Just one more day's riding.

Adventures in The Lost World 12 - Back to Silchar

 Short ride, as if...

It probably was only a 125 km day, but it was not easy.

Paul, Michael, Will and I had wandered through the town before breakfast. It was surprisingly neat, with rubbish in tidy piles, presumably waiting for systematic collection. Much better than Silchar where the rubbish was grazed by urban cows and crows.

There was also a very incongruous modern automatic loo in the market street. A very sensible idea, but the shiny contemporary design looked totally out of place with the people sitting around it unloading their bicycles and selling fruit and vegetables off bits of cloth. spread out in the street.

We debated wearing wet weather gear for the ride, as it was damp and spitting a bit, but the bad weather held off.

A crowd had gathered to stare at us. It was strange but not unnerving. I had another bunch young guys asking for selfies.

The start was good, with Vidhya as pillion asking every 100 metres which road to take to Silchar. So we were fairly confident of going in the right direction. The tarmac close to town got rougher and rougher and the road narrower as we wended into the countryside. Alex stopped and Vidhya double checked the route, as the crowd looked on...

I dropped to the back to let the experienced guys go on ahead.

And the mud started. Slowly at first, in patches between the potholes and the sand.

We started on what will one day be a major road, but for now it is hard packed stone, with muddy slush.

I stood up on the bike more and went faster. Sometimes you just have to trust in what you see the others do, and the good bikers were standing up. Also going faster took a lot of the bumps out, so the riding got smoother at speed.

But there were a couple of big stretches with mud. When it was hard packed I was still very careful, in case it had turned wet. Then came the obviously wet stuff, which is fine for a few yards but when it extends for a kilometre it is very wearing. Michael and I were conscientiously bringing up the rear. We saw Will waiting for us up ahead. Of course he'd stopped because he found the going very difficult and wanted to watch us fall off. We didn't. Schadenfreude 0, Good guys 1.

A chai stop while waiting for the van brought another crowd. Most would stand and stare.

A few would ask where we were from, shaking hands and starting a conversation. It was strange but not unnerving again.
There was the sense of a zombie movie where a crowd slowly assembles and closes in. But it was not threatening, just a bunch of curious people.

We carried on, with similar roads, but more tarmac.

Alex had gone on and left Paul to get us to turn off on another road. But it was a wide open road and I was fixated on passing the next vehicle, then the next, and completely missed him. 

A couple of minutes later the continuous blast of a horn reached through my concentration and I realised I'd messed up. The whole group was on the same road, we turned back, including the van, so I did not feel completely stupid.

Lunch was beside a similar hard packed stone road, with muddy spray being thrown up by every vehicle. The chai was strange, maybe the twentieth brew, made by just adding another spoonful of tea to the pot.

Alex and I had an onion omelette made with more oil than the bike could hold, as Will said. But it was ballast and the onion in it almost overrode the oil taste.

Then it was onwards again, on our short ride.

We would cross bridges where the rebars were sticking out, which could be very dangerous for tyres. But no one got a puncture and on we carried.

We approached Silchar knowing what a complete maelstrom it would be and were not disappointed. Swerves, people stepping out, cows on a dual carriageway, horns and cutting in. It was chaotic, as usual.

But through the slush and the pushing and shoving we made it to the same run down hotel of a few nights ago.

Renovation had not happened. In fact we are not sure when or if there will be any more work done.

The filthy bikes were lined up with filthy riders astride and Vidhya took lots of photos, on bikes, off bikes, helmets, no helmets, lights, no lights, mean, happy, we even suggested with or without clothes, but stuck to the warmer option.

Abhi was sent for beer and phoned back with reports of how hard it was to find anything. India is drying out.

We dragged our muddy way up to our rooms for disrobing and showers. At least we were dry. With a couple of hours before supper I wrote a bit, then went for a walk. The simple option of right, right and right again, led to a 30 minute walk, through busy shopping areas, quieter streets with trees and walls, rather than shops, but still with a continuous stream of rickshaws, tuc tucs, mopeds and pedestrians. Two army camps and a couple of police compounds and I was thinking of turning back, but blindly carrying on I reached a busy junction and five minutes later I saw Abhi out for a walk. The hotel was only a hundred metres further on, the beers were on the go and the boys were gathered.

Another evening of joshing and good food. Lewis and I were at one end of the table and got Vidhya's views of life the universe and everything. As always with this rowdy group of headstrong people she kept getting interrupted. Sh did not insist of being able to finish a sentence, but waited till someone had finished. I tried hard not to interrupt.

It is really hard making any point that takes more than a phrase as everyone wants a turn at talking, except Paul. He waits for a good moment.

We tired fast and Michael was the first to admit defeat. Will and I jumped at the chance for yet another early night, leaving the professionals to it.

I was asleep within minutes, but apparently Paul showed Alex what he had to put up with as we were sharing a double bed again, and I was sleeping curled up.

But no for long, there were big thunderstorms in the night and tomorrow was going to be a long ride, 216 km. Not so much fun.

Adventures in The Lost World 11 - The Longest Day

Aizawl to Dharmanagar - a bridge too far?

Today all depended on the bridge between Mizoram and Tripura being open.

Paul and I had a brew going before the 5 am alarm went off.

So we had our packed breakfast that we picked up after dinner last night. For me that was three boiled eggs (one of Michael's), four bits of toast, with butter and jam, plus a small box that said it was fruit juice, which tasted more chemical than fruity.
I ate as I tried more internet stuff, which still didn't work very well. But we were ready and assembled before kickoff time at 6 am.

Alex was under pressure to ensure we took the right road out of town and asked passers by and taxis several times, so we only had to turn back once, and that was very early in the proceedings. Aizawl had relatively little traffic at that hour and we were in the countryside quite quickly.
Back over the Bailey bridges  and into the jungly countryside  

Vidhya asked several more people about the right road and by 8 am we were at a breakfast chai stop in a small settlement.

Here in the south we are far more of an attraction and groups of people would come to stand and stare if ever we stopped.

Lots of people seemed to emerge from the surrounding jungle as we got chai and simple stuff to eat. It took a while and we all wandered around a bit. I went for a pee and had a look at a steamroller abandoned on the edge of the settlement. Plants had grown and died around the wheels, but that can happen fast in the jungle.
Paul told me it was a diesel roller not a steamroller and identified why it was abandoned. It had a broken front bit, so had probably run away on a slope at some stage. Hard to start and really hard to stop these things.
He was into the cabin and checking out the makers specifications and technical stuff. Comparing against the one he has at home (really!).

The van caught up and off we set into roads that seemed to get difficult quite quickly. Down to a single track with regular broken patches of sand and rough ground, tight hairpins and little chance to open up the throttle. I followed Lewis, Will and Michael who kept a good pace. A bit too fast for me. After another hour or so I was tiring again, but trying to keep up. As always the group was going to stop a few minutes beyond my comfort zone. We passed through a village and I was annoyed for not insisting we stop for a chai.

On a tight left hand steep uphill bend a jeep came round the corner avoiding a big pothole. There was no road left and I tried to cut the corner over the pothole and up a steep bank. My clutch control was not good enough and the bike stalled. I was not strong enough to hold it up and had to let it down, gently, but with some choice Anglo-Saxon.

Abhi helped me get it on the road, with lots of revs and punishing the clutch. We lit up, it was break time. He said I should use the horn more on the corners,which I think meant I should go faster. 

So I either go too fast or too slow. One day I'll get it right!

I said to Abhi I was having problems with the clutch. He checked it and said it was loose, we should wait a few minutes for the bike to cool down (presumably the bike included me!). We would ask Ashraf to tighten it later.

Then the voices from up the hill started. Lewis, Will and Michael had stopped one bend further up.

Typical.

Abhi and I pottered up, still smoking. We had a pause with the guys and a chat. 

A few minutes later we set off again. It was similar for a lot of the day. Me at the back, with Abhi patiently acting as nursemaid.

We crossed one mountain range, winding up and over and down, a little Tarmac, sand, rocks, bends, sand and rocks on the bends, and stretches of rough ground.

We stopped at a sizeable village that had a football pitch and a tennis court and

waited a while for the van, so half the region seemed to converge on us for photos. 

The chai was good and there were freshly fried fritters, that seemed like rice pancakes and sweet fried bread.

There was a little time pressure and Vidhya was gong to be in the van for the rest of the day.

There seemed to be two choices, a longer but safer route or the shorter one that was harder riding. We ended up on the harder riding one.

Off we set on the usual mix of terrain, winding up and over and round and down. There were more tight bends with broken ground in the apex of each curve, or potholes to make sure the hardest part of the curve was the most difficult patch of ground. So I bashed away and Michael stayed at the back as well.

Michael had watched Abhi a few days before and noted that he always took the rough ground slowly, did not bump through the potholes but wove between them and accelerated afterwards. I was missing the accelerating afterwards, weaving and keeping the slower speed.

Then came the mud, open stretches of packed moist stuff. Followed by rough ground, with sometimes bits of tarmac and sand on the road.

Then came the rain.

The group gathered as we put on rain gear. I was quite quick changing and set off after Alex, Paul and Lewis. They were way ahead in the rough and wet stuff. I wanted to cover as much ground as possible before the rain got really bad and made it all worse.

The road was flat or downhill, which makes muddy stretches treacherous. I stayed upright and straight and although there was the occasional slide.

Michael and Will had taken a few minutes longer to get the gear on. The rain had turned the route from difficult to really difficult.

About ten minutes later when Michael and Will had not overtaken, I guessed something was wrong, but had to potter on, as I would only hold everything up. Some twenty minutes after that I came across Paul at a fork in the road. He was Alex's second helper and marking the route. A minute or so further on Lewis was waiting beside the road at another fork. The was no marker. I stopped for a couple of minutes and bought some water, then decided to investigate what seemed the logical road. Lewis waited. A kilometre further on there was difficult mud in the middle of the village then a sign for a diversion. 

I asked a guy there to check I was on the road for Dharamanagar, of course my pronunciation was bad, but after a couple of attempts he told me the diversion would take us back to Aizawl. So I turned back and met the rest of the group coming down the road.

Paul asked if I'd seen which way Alex's tyre tracks went, which I had never thought of and I'd never trust myself to get the right tyre tracks anyway.

They set off while I turned round and I didn't see them again for a long time.

I nearly came off going back through the village mud for the third time, but kept straight and upright as the bike slid all over the place.

The diversion road would add time to the journey, putting us under more pressure.

So on we slogged. Very aware of the mud.

It was all getting quite repetitive. I was always concentrating on the road. As usual. That meant I didn't get to see the scenery, or the funny sights. My whole vision was the road and being aware of potential danger.

Being aware of the country you're going through makes it far more interesting. Just small glimpses of life beyond the verge gives a hugely different perspective.

I caught up with the boys as they stopped for a regroup.

watched as usual...

We had a chai and handed out biscuits to small kids, who refused until their mothers took some, then the kids pounced like piranhas.
This was the first chance I had to check what had happened with Michael and Will, since they were both obviously OK when we met back in the village with the diversion. Michael had come off the bike twice in the treacherous mud.
And it was time to push on, hoping the bridge would be open.

Within ten minutes we found Alex at a junction. They would open the bridge for us. There was a dispute between the two states and they liked to close the bridge at any excuse.

The challenge would be getting the van over. Remarkably soon afterwards the van arrived and Alex, Vidhya and Lovely disappeared for consultations with different people to get permission for the van.

They got it and we moved on. Alex and Paul ahead, then the van and us following. On the Tripura side the road was blocked by a market. Alex (just visible in the picture) led off.

The first market pitch was an old lady selling chicken bones and skin from a stained cloth. Her casual waving kept some of the flies away. It did not look appetising.

The van made its way steadily through the stalls. Lovely used a pole to lift individual ropes holding up awnings to let the van go under them.
It was slow progress. If I didn't keep tight to the van the space filled with people. The road was uphill so there was a lot of stop start.

We got through the market. Wonderful news.

The road turned into a stunning well paved wide road with lots of undulating curves.

I loved it. Angle into a bend and accelerate through and out. It was fun gunning the engine as soon as the route out of a curve opened up and I went for it.

Alex and Paul had disappeared into the distance but I was not so far behind, pretending to lead our small sub-group and really enjoying the swooping sensation. Finally some fun!

There was a long straight stretch which I took at full tilt, slowing for what seemed like a small bridge, but I still took some air. Which meant I left the ground, just a little. But we were straight and upright so on we rushed.

Dharamanagar was another crowded town, but not as outright chaotic as Silchar and not as manic as Aizawl. It seemed slightly more organised as we weaved between motorised transport of all shapes and sizes, plus cycles and pedestrians, all living their own lives.

In among the bustle was the hotel and celebrations all round. We had made it in daylight. It had been a hard riding day. Time for a beer, even a warm beer, or two, while Vidhya checked us all in.

We had our own rooms. Mine was very basic, cold water and a squat loo.

I was knackered and after a cold shower got on the Internet to find some work, a short translation required for Nuova Simonelli, a company I translate for. They make excellent coffee machines and it has been fun learning about the coffee business. Maybe that's a subject for another blog one day.

I started the translation and dozed off half way through. A few minutes later I started on it again and was soon interrupted by a knock on the door. Michael saying they had started on the beers in the restaurant.

I finished the translation, failed to send it as my email seems to be on receive but not send while using hotel wifi. Maybe I'll sort that out when I have spare time.

The party was going swimmingly. Michael offered me a tube with a Romeo and Juliet No.5. A gorgeous smoke but I was tired and would rather wait till after supper. Alex gave me stick as Michael had waited for me before lighting his. Alex offered to share, so he obviously wanted a smoke!

I took one, Michael had the other, but his was an empty tube! So I gave him the other one and went upstairs to get a couple for Alex and I.

It was a good smoke, Alex played a variety of 70's and 80's music and Will got very into the bands and the tracks.

Dinner was delicious as usual. There were few other diners as we were making enough noise to scare people away. But it was not a long evening. Most of us were tired and we left the seasoned riders to it.

I failed to take a bottle of water to bed, which was a mistake as the water in the room was in an unsealed bottle. Only drink from bottles with sealed caps.

In the middle of the night I went to try to find some water. Judging but the number of plates left outside the rooms, many people had profited from room service last night, rather than suffer the rowdy ramblings of a bunch of foreigners.

Downstairs there were people sleeping on the floor in reception and in the dining room. So I left them sleeping and tried some of my emergency water purifying tablets on the bottle in the room. They did not dissolve, so I read a bit and netted a bit and went back to sleep.

Ready for a short ride tomorrow.... Huh,short ride, as if.

Adventures in The Lost World 10 - Heading south to Aizawl

Silchar to Aizawl.

The challenge of writing a couple of days after a ride, and after 10 days of riding is how much events get mixed up.

The basic hotel

gave us a basic breakfast. It seemed to take an age to get tea and we had to ask them to fry both sides of the eggs. There were too many people waiting around to be helpful, which was a little disconcerting. The manager would interrupt our order to give different instructions to the waiters. I guess the instruction had changed by the time they gave it to the kitchen and brought it back. We asked for tea, the manager said coffee, we got tea. Go figure.

This ride was supposed to be 172 km, but after the challenges of yesterday we were not giving Alex any quarter on warm ups. He was very attentive to the route out, despite the efforts of the local drivers.

Lewis survived several assassination attempts and we filled up with petrol outside town.

Once we cleared the madness of town traffic the road wound up into the hills. Mizoram means People From The Cold Hills.

 we never met the Enfield riders, but we felt welcome!

And getting in meant another checkpoint and, being an independent people, a separate stamp in the passport.

Luckily the people and the hills were warm. The road drew us onwards and upwards. We stopped at a lonely shack for chai, or maybe it was lunch. It seemed that all they had were cakes. So I grabbed one hoping something else would turn up. It didn't, so I scoffed a couple of biscuits from the reserve in my bike panniers, just in case we didn't stop for a while.
The jungle closed in. It was reminiscent of scenery in Vietnam war films. The view would open up, showing big valleys covered with trees and not a settlement in sight. We wound up, avoiding the potholes and the oncoming trucks, overtaking on rough patches or the few straight stretches till we found ourselves on a ridge with huge views either side, faded by mist, or pollution. So the hills were vague shadows, but there were a lot of them, stretching a long way into the distance.

with the jungle taking over man made impositions, like telephone poles

Michael, Will and I hung back and kept what they considered a slow pace, but for me was as fast as I could sensibly go. Paul and Lewis took lots of photos. We stopped when we felt like it. Will's back was giving him some pain so we did not want to put any extra strain on it. He stood up on the bike when going through the rough patches, which Michael was doing as well, so I tried it more often. At first it did not feel comfortable, but got a bit better, especially when I stopped trying to rip the handlebars off the bike, gripping them too hard.

They let me lead for a while and I really enjoyed the sweeping curves, but having to be aware of potholes hidden by dips in the road and the risk of oncoming overtaking lorries on every curve. There were not so many, but you have to be prepared for them.

Will gave me feedback on my line in curves, which I had thought was brilliant as I went wide to give myself extra line of sight and extra room for manoeuvre. Paul explained that sweeping so wide could confuse an oncoming driver or rider and even as I swerved left to my side of the road, they may feel that was the safer side for them as well. They should have a clear path, and choose to go to my right. It was all very logical. So since then I've moderated my line into curves.

One advantage of leading is that you are sensible as you don't want to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone else. At the back you are the last to get the chance to overtake a difficult vehicle, so there is a pressure to keep up. But in front everyone knows you get held up, and you help in the open stretches as they can see if traffic or potholes, or rough ground is ahead.

I started getting enthusiastic, which form experience we knew was dangerous, so I let the others through. Falling behind as always I was getting tired and checking the milepost, or kilometre posts at the side of the road. It was getting on and although I really wanted to stop for a break I thought I might catch up with the group.

I should have stopped, but was not making mistakes so kept going. The traffic got heavier about 15 km from Aizawl and it was difficult trying to overtake. Some 10 km out there seemed to be a mindset change and the drivers became a little crazy. There were few horns but there was some very aggressive driving. It was hard to overtake the trucks as we wound uphill around tight bends.

Still I slogged on and safely negotiated a couple of crazy people overtaking on bends. My panic reaction of 'upright and straight' made braking and avoiding a lot easier. So if I was angled in a right hand curve I could straighten and head for the verge, while braking and maybe changing down a gear. The bike was a lot more stable but I did not want to try any of the changing gear or braking manoeuvres while turning.

I was very tired when I caught up with the group close to the centre of town and really wanted a couple of minutes break, but Alex was impatient and pushed us on. 

We followed in close convoy as he took us and and down various streets. Some of which were the correct ones. So today we didn't have a warm up, but we had a cooling down!

Tucked down a side street a long way up one of the hills Aizawl is built on, was the hotel. I was very tired and happy that the rooms were on the same floor as the car park...

The next day was supposed to be a rest, with breakfast at 7:30 and meeting at 10 to pop into the CID police station for foreigner registration. Well breakfast went OK. Paul and I had a couple of cups of tea to keep us going between dawn and 7:30. He got me to download an app so I could steal photos from his camera. That seemed a lot more technical than I expected from Paul, and I started referring to him as a technical wizard, which he laughed at.

After breakfast he went for an unsuccessful walk as his path was blocked by an officious female guard. I tried to write and download photos the group had taken from Facebook. Neither went very well as the internet was dreadfully slow.

The 10 o clock meet was sort of punctual, except for our local guide who would show the van driver where to go. So we could watch the boys washing the bikes: 

We all loaded ourselves into the van and set off into the narrow, packed streets. The driver did very well. The guide started talking about Christianity in the state. Since he was wearing a t shirt that said Experiencing God, it was a short conversation, we were not in the mood to be converted.

He then started asking people where we had to go, which seemed a little strange. The centre of town was packed with teeming masses of small taxis, mopeds and motorcycles. Each junction was a jam, despite the earnest commands of the traffic police wearing gleaming white tops and brandishing whistles.

 The road we were supposed to take was blocked off, it was undergoing repairs, so we went round the one way system in the centre again. The local guide's local knowledge wasn't up to date. A few discussions with passers by and shopkeepers later and we ended up at the top of a small road, where there was a police station. Another discussion and the driver had to use every ounce of steering lock to turn and in the narrow street on a steep hill. Not for the faint hearted.

 The CID police station took a few more discussions and another 30 minutes to find. 90 minutes to cross town. Passing guys with jackhammers standing on exposed rebars to demolish a building...

The registration forms were simple but asked odd questions like, passport place of issue. Not the number, just the place of issue. We waited patiently out side a small interview room and were called in two at a time.

An old guy came in after us and was ready to complain ab everything. He was married to a local girl he'd met in Calcutta some years before. He was probably an eager imbiber, smelling of booze well before midday. It turned out he was from Wakefield, a town very close to Paul. But there was not a lot to talk about and he kept repeating himself.

I used my phone to write for the blog, so it was not time wasted, but it w as still an hour before we were all seen and our details checked against some central computer. Part of that was because the internet went down while Michael's details were being checked.

We bundled back into the van again and a couple of minutes later and some way down the hill I realised I'd left my camera behind. A small panic and chat with the driver before Alex handed it back and the usual well deserved ribbing ensued.

 The guide took us on a different route that was a lot less crowded, but was longer. Still we saw a different side of Aizawl and got a few photos from the van windows.
Including what seemed a significant industry, breaking rocks down into stones...

 

There was also the strange sight of a multi story building built right on the edge of a rock. Although it is aparently well known locally it seemed pretty normal for this Aizawl.

As soon as we got back Michael, Will, Paul and I set off for the KFC, visible from our room and just across the road from the hotel. Well from the front entrance. The van and bikes were parked around the back on the fifth floor where our rooms were. We had to walk down five flights of steps, the lift was not working, to get to reception then across the road.

It's been about a decade since I had a KFC and we all wanted a break from continuous Indian food. It seems a lot of Aizawl citizens also wanted a break. The place was efficient and packed. We chose spicy variations of the Colonels secret recipe and sat upstairs, scoffing away.

After lunch it was almost siesta time, but instead I tried more internet downloading and some of it worked.

I tried calling my bank as the card had not worked the last time all the way back in Tezpur, but gave up after 8 minutes on hold before speaking to anyone. I went for a walk anyway and the first cash machine coughed up, so I tired again for a bit more cash and that worked as well.

On the way back to the hotel I spent some of the new funds on a haircut and also wanted a head massage, but there were no openings. The girl that cut my hair was not well practised so the result was dubious, but having someone else wash your hair in itself is a luxury and I felt a lot better afterwards, even though it cost some €3.50 including a generous tip!

Supper was a bit of a mess as the girl who had taken Vidhya's instructions in the morning had disappeared without telling the kitchen. 

So we had to wait for 30 minutes, during which time Vidhya and Alex got called away to see 'a visitor' waiting for them at reception. That seemed strange. It turned out to be a CID policeman who asked some odd questions, found that we had all registered properly and left. 

Supper was very good, as usual. Very heat hot and quite spicy, with a mix of classic and local dishes, including a green soupy cabbagy thing that nobody could identify!

Alex came back to Paul's and my room for a nightcap and more chat. I tried and failed to video chat with my kids, who were out and about.

I was exhausted but the time Alex left and went straight to sleep. Ready for what was expected to be the longest day of the trip. 

The last bridge was rarely open and both times Alex had tried this leg they had a huge diversion, ending up in Dharamanagar in the dark...without the van and spare clothes.