Adventures in The Lost World 8 - Isphal

 It was an easy start, setting off at 9 for what should be a short and simple ride to Isphal. There were occasional strange sights, like paddy fields. 

We had to register again at a police checkpoint. It seemed they were intent on knowing how far the Nomadic Knights had got.

Apart from the usual melee of broken roads and random drivers there were a lot of soldiers on patrol, guns held loosely, walking on both sides of the road and we came up to a large army convoy. Dozens of trucks and buses. Some trucks open with soldiers on benches, the lower half of their faces covered by black scarves. Maybe against the dust. They were easy enough to overtake when the road got bad as they had to slow right down, but the bikes could happily do 30kph (or Paul's bike 60kph). 

I tried to keep a reasonable line into the corners and not bounce the bike over too many potholes and rocks, but if you hit a few the bikes took them easily. It took at least 20 minutes getting past all the trucks. A short while after overtaking them we stopped for chai. A rare couple of roadside huts with the families watching the world go by. A couple of soldiers loitered there and there were a couple more on a bluff overlooking the huts. I got approached by a local asking where I was from and talking about wonderful priests from Italy. When I didn't bite he got to asking about my religion and luckily lost interest when I said I didn't have any.

A Landrover like vehicle with Swiss plates rolled up and a guy of about 50 in smart casual clothes got out and started talking. He was driving on his own from Singapore back to Switzerland. He and Alex talked about lots of places they both knew about. He hadn't yet figured which route to take back and was hoping for a transit visa from Russia, otherwise there would be lots of 'stans' to cross. It's easier if you're Swiss, no enemies. Off he drove, probably wondering about us crazy guys on motorbikes in such remote parts. Maybe we all thought the other were spies on the side.

Then an army jeep rolled up and stopped. A captain got out and was obviously curious, asking lots of questions. The rest of our group were also curious. His men spread out while we had a friendly talk. They chatted with the soldiers already there and looked at the van. 

It was all very friendly and the captain presumably got the information he was after. 

One of the villagers spoke to one of the team, they said the soldiers would speak to us, but not to them.

The captain was in charge of the convoy that we would have to overtake again. We asked if we could take photos but he politely said not of him, he did not want to be identified as being in that part of the country. He set off, as did we. Some 10-20 km later the front of the convoy had stopped on a long stretch of good road in open country and we could overtake the last few dozens trucks easily. 

We were riding in a split group of Alex and Paul well ahead, the rest of us keeping together, that meant we stopped for chai when I got tired.

The busy village seemed fascinated by us, with a slightly crazy guy (at least that's what some of the locals indicated with the international circling index finger to the temple motion). He talked a mix of English and the local dialect which was completely incomprehensible to us and even to Abhi. The head man arrived with a smart leather jacket, excellent English and a photo op aide. He was interested in us and our travels and happy we were enjoying Nagaland. So we had the team photo taken with various august chaps and mounted up again to meet Alex and Paul a few kilometres further on.

Imphal seemed smaller. Coming into town it seemed a bit more chaotic and lot poorer. There were a few big government buildings and compounds like The a Silk Research Institute. The hotel was on the main road, in a walled compound and had watchtowers with armed guards. A hotel security guard said we had to move the bikes, but we didn't and that worked because he moved off. The bikes stayed where they were. It was a smart place, where officials stayed, hence the protection. We had upgrades for the rooms, which meant suites with a separate sitting area, which we didn't use. There was fruit and most importantly a kettle. But only one towel. Almost every hotel has provided only one towel. We asked for another and extra pillows.
I also called about the tap that would not stop running. Lots of toing and froing. The tap was solved by turning the mixer to cold water only. I went downstairs to get a better wifi signal and even managed to download The Economist, that evening we convened in Alex's room for warm beer and cigars. Alex made a big fuss about allowing us to smoke in his room. I resisted until he insisted and thoroughly enjoyed one of Michael's Montecristos. On of the running jokes was about boundaries. When I was being pushed for everyone to smoke in my room on the second night, I insisted that like teenagers they needed boundaries, and I did not want smoking the room. The subject of boundaries came up a lot, especially when behaved outside the social norms, but then no one had laid down the boundaries!
Dinner was next to a large table of Germans. The conversation although irreverent is normally relatively reasonable, as Vidhya is with us. So the chilli chicken and noodles went down well, we even had ice cream which was advertised as butterscotch, but had a more nutty, seedy flavour.
And back to the rooms. I stupidly left the key in our door so it had disappeared by the time I was ready to rejoin the party in Alex's room. Everyone denied having the key. I was tired and used that as an excuse to opt out and guard the room.
Falling asleep while trying to read The Economist, Paul walked in with the key and exhausted I rejoined the party. Luckily it broke up soon after and I could go back to sleep.
Only to be woken an indeterminate time later as Paul got up to answer the door. Room service delivering cigarettes and matches. Not to our room. 

Back to sleep, for the long day tomorrow.

Adventures in The Lost World 7 - Onward, to the Battle of the TennisCourt

It was supposed to be an easy start, setting off at 9 for what should be a short and simple ride to Kohima...

Getting out of town was down steep broken streets, with the usual oncoming jeeps, mopeds and motorcycles. I came up to a very steep sharp left bend with broken road and potholes, and stalled. Will was behind me and is a good rider, so he easily stopped in time as I gathered my thoughts, girded my loins and set off on a bit of road I would not have done on a Bullet two years ago. It ended up no problem. Via the back streets we reached the main road and settled into the chaos of Indian town traffic. Once out of there the roads were the usual mix of good tarmac with occasional potholes and rough patches. There were long queues of lorries at odd points, maybe taxes, maybe checkpoints. Especially into Nagaland Hill Country.
Here the tribes do not want government. Any government.

 

 

And back on the road, with trees and potholes, sand and bend after bend. 

The army presence was recognisable. A few foot patrols, trucks with mounted machine guns beside the road and sparse settlements.

I did not fall too far behind and we reached Kohima by early afternoon, which was the plan.

Getting through the town was an event in itself.

Plonked on steep hills were buildings made from tin and wood, rush roofs and even, as the advert said, 'solid setting concrete'. It all looked like a complex puzzle of seeing how many buildings you can fit on steep slops before the top one topples the rest in an avalanche of every building material under the sun. Including the bamboo scaffolding.

The interesting part of the town was the police force. In full camouflage with self loading rifles and automatic weapons, the lady police officers were dressed to kill.

It was all very inspiring.

Up to the hotel, which Alex had warned us about. Continuing to always stay in the best places, In this town we luckily got an upgrade so only two rooms shared a bathroom.

Once we finally found the well hidden rooms, Paul and I were sharing a bathroom with Michael and Will. That was likely to be an unpleasant and possibly even explosive mix.

Foolishly they were slow to get sorted out, so Paul and I got the first use of the shower. The doors to each bedroom could be locked from either direction to give privacy. So we locked their door, permanently, and showered in peace.

Once they complained enough Paul got out his Leatherman and took off the lock for our door on the inside of the bathroom, to ensure we could get into the bathroom whenever we wanted. We left the other lock to keep them out.

Once we unlocked their door Michael immediately went to lock us out, but was temporarily surprised their was no lock, before looking at our innocent faces and figuring what we'd done.

We washed and brushed and loaded ourselves into the van for an interesting jolting drive through town. The van rarely got out of second gear and we ground our way in heavy traffic to the cemetery for The Battle of the Tennis Court.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Tennis_Court

The War Grave Commission has done an excellent job. The site is well looked after and sobering. Seeing the multitude of graves of young men, from many different regiments, many parts of the UK, many countries and different religions. All the graves were for the Allies war dead. Most tombstones faced the tennis court itself, the Muslim graves faced Mecca and there was a big memorial to those cremated.
Two weeks of attacks, lobbing grenades across a tennis court.

And so many young men dying so far from home. The fear, the pain and despite the fellow soldiers, probably the loneliness. But we cannot know what they felt and hopefully we never have to feel the same.
So we wandered around on our own and reflected.
And met up and chatted respectfully. And wanted to sign the register, but none of us had a pen.
So we hopped in the van and waved at the soldiers on the slow trip back. Most of them waved back.
And another evening of beer and whisky and spicy food. But the beer was warm and very expensive, the service was reluctant and the food was slow to arrive. Still we could sit outside and smoke and talk.
But as usual we were all in bed by 10.
Paul and I locked the door, to avoid any temptation for our neighbours.
The wifi was slow, so it was an early night, ready for a short hop the next day...

Adventures in The Lost World 6 - Nagaland

As usual Paul and I woke with the dawn, this time with the muezzin's call to prayer. After a couple of cups of tea we guessed the restaurant would be open and wandered down. The sign said closed but we went in anyway. The spicy food on offer was good. Paul opted for toast, but the toaster wouldn't work until the waiter fiddled with two bare wires at his feet, sticking them at a secret special angle into the socket.

We were all well practised so getting ready for the ride didn't take long. It was a hot day, even by 9 am. 

I had not worn a bandage to support my wrist the night before, but it was a little more painful in the morning so it went back on again. Doc worked his magic.

Alex jokingly accused me of abusing the Indian medical system, a foreigner coming to the country to take advantage of the medical care, terrible behaviour.

It felt hotter as we left town because the traffic was especially manic. Head on suicide attempts were expected, as were the pedestrians, cyclists and cars coming from the left hand side without looking, but it was relentless. It took about an hour to clear town. The main road, although fairly well tarmaced had lunatics at higher speed doing all sorts.

I was kind of keeping up and followed Lewis past a big truck. The oncoming lane was completely clear and the road in good condition so I overtook, at about 80kph. The lorry pulled further and further right as I tried accelerating past. I ended up with a strip a couple of feet wide at the very right hand side of the road, contemplating an emergency escape route through the sand and the trees to my right. That would definitely have been painful.

I squeezed past and the road was open, but it was unnerving and I was careful as we crossed the Brahmaputra again. It seemed even bigger than the first time. There was little traffic on the bridge and the going was quick, 5km of river just took some time.

The traffic did not get much better after the bridge. A tower incongruously dumped on the landscape turned out to be a brick factory. Some guys were laying out grey blocks to dry, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of bricks. I had gone past too fast in constant traffic to stop for a photo, but I thought if there are more, and this being India there probably would be, then I could stop. There were more, about 10 km further on, lots of them, but not always near the road. I was at the back of the group, with Abhi close by. The traffic was thinning out. When my lane was completely clear and only a few cars on the other side I glanced to check if the photo would be good, OK but not perfect, looking up again, my lane was filled by a police car, siren blaring. About 30 metres away, coming straight at me. There was no road left for me, so I pulled to the gravel at the edge and slowed. And stopped.

Abhi pulled up, glad I was still alive. He said the police car was crazy.  I took a couple of photos and breathed very deeply. You have to be ready for crazy.

Here's a photo Paul took, mine are still on the camera SIM card...

So we set off again, and although we were behind the group I did not rush, at first. Then we got stuck in traffic and however much I tried to catch up there was always something.

In one settlement there was a gap in the stream of on-coming vehicles, so I tried overtaking a minivan. He sped up as a bus coming the other way overtook a tuc tuc.

I had to brake hard and swerve behind the minivan, making it by centimetres rather than metres. The bus had no mercy.

So it was back to a very sensible pace and yoga breathing while the adrenaline worked its way through the system. We caught up with the group only a few minutes later. Time for chai.

Chai and the chance to hang around in the hot sun, waiting for the van to catch up. Some guys pulled up fascinated by the bikes. Hiamalaya bikes are new and rarely seen in India, we have not seen any others so far. Speaking a language none of us could understand one of them started talking and looking around the bikes. He seemed drunk or wired a little differently and yabbered on making motions about wanting to hear the engine. As he went to turn the key, Alex walked over with an angry face and firmly said no, in English, putting his hand on the key. Don't touch the bike. The guy kept yabbering but went back to the minivan and they drove off.

The roads got worse. The potholes got bigger and had to be avoided. Sand built up and I had to ride over it straight and upright. So progress was slower as you had to be aware of the need to swerve if the road deteriorated. Which is fine if the road surface is flat, but when it's uneven you cannot always see very far. 

In addition it's not just the potholes on your side of the road, when it gets narrow the traffic on the other side will swerve to avoid them. And if a driver has not been paying attention the swerves can be sudden and straight at you.

Even more fun is an on coming car overtaking, but the slower vehicle then swerving to avoid a pothole, so you are left with either braking, hard, or the side of the road.

So I was checking for two escape routes when there was on coming traffic.

We were in more open countryside and although I was looking for photo shots, few appeared. I was at the front of the group so was happy to stop. Nothing romantic, nothing we haven't seen before, or the shot was too big for my little camera. Then on a hunch I checked the front pouch and there was no camera. I'd check the bike panniers at the next chai stop. I did, no camera. Bugger. Oh well that's a shame. I told Michael and Will, who rightly called me an idiot.

Doc came up and handed me back the camera. Winding me up wasn't going to work. Will had seen it fall and had stopped to pick it up. Battered, but working. That was really good news. Big smiles.

We had samosas in a little hut and Alex and Vidhya found the old guy whose photo is in our ride booklet. Photos and smiles all round.

The road pulled us onwards and deteriorated. More potholes, more sand and luckily less traffic.

But fairly soon was the border. This was a relatively simple checkpoint with no control of our papers. Which was a bit surprising. We were entering Nagaland.

The road was fun and we pulled in to Dimapur fairly early. Almost every hotel we stayed at seemed to be down some back street or other. Alex promised we always stayed in the best hotel in town, it's just the town may not be the best! 
But it was a little oasis, with lots of space for the bikes. 

The hotel looked pretty good, compared to what we were expecting. There were ceiling fans and wifi. Good sized rooms with a table and chairs as well as twin beds.

Paul got a brew going and had a shower, conscientiously avoiding the electrical outlet in the shower.

 Having survived that I had a go and failed to accidentally electrocute myself, so there was a chance to write a bit more blog.

Paul and Lewis ventured in to town to get beers and we convened in a strangely decorated room, with multiple geometric shapes in dark wood and odd mementoes, from a plastic water buffalo head on the wall to religious statues on shelves. It seemed a film set supposed to represent a colonial gentlemens club, designed by a dopehead, influenced by cheap sitcoms, who had never ventured beyond the Hollywood Hills.

There were lots of mosquitoes and our cigar smoke wasn't enough to get rid of them, so when we heard the distant but familiar fizz of an insect meeting its maker via an electric tennis racquet, Vidhya purloined it from reception and set about zapping. This evolved into a combination of Indian dance / Nija exercises with Michael having a go at the mosquitoes higher up and ending up with ...

Insert embarrassing video...

All in the best possible taste.

As was supper, which was again delicious and plentiful. Vidhya excused herself delicately when the whisky glasses were raised and the conversational tone lowered. Alex seemed intent on ensuring that there were no boundaries, so we settled into discussing a very broad range of low level and unsettling issues, which will stay on tour.

But there was a lot of bad language and raucous laughter, as if we were the only people in the hotel. We weren't.

After a pretty good nights sleep and another brew from Paul, we went down for breakfast to find an elderly couple, whose curt and unhappy 'Good morning' sounded German.

Maybe they were booked in for several more days but decided prudently not to stay in a hotel that would accept us.

I scoffed a stream of omelettes that appeared from the kitchen and we got ready for what should be an easy day...

Adventures in The Lost World 5 - Back to the warmth

It was a cold night. Although there was hot water in the bathroom, the bathroom was cold. Alex explained how he and Vidhya had filled water bottles with hot water. I didn't have a problem with warmth from the duvets, but a wash in the morning was a brisk and minimal affair.

Downstairs we could luxuriate in some morning sunshine. Breakfast meant chai and a local variation on an omlette. It was made with rice and went either with ketchup or jam. And lots of toast. It was interesting and certainly did the job of refuelling.

So we geared up and collected the bikes from their off street parking.

 So back down the mountain we went. Luckily it hadn't rained and again I followed Will. We set off steadily. Following another bike means keeping a sensible distance and in traffic keeping to a different part of the lane. So if they are on the outside of the lane, stay back a few yards and go inside, to maximise your line of sight. As you get out of town then it is easier to follow a decent line around the curves. And there were curves, right hairpins on a downhill. It's harder and slower going downhill than up because your stopping distance is longer so you need an extra margin of safety, which was a lesson I had forcefully bashed into me yesterday.

The group quickly overtook and scooted off, Abhi patiently played back marker, with Ashraf, who was running in the other bike. Ashraf was wearing the crash helmet he bought at the border check yesterday. He'd spent the first day riding without, but the mountains are different. 

A lot more dangerous, especially going downhill.

But the weather was good and we could look around a bit and appreciate the beauty in brief snatches before coming to another bend and worrying about a lorry lumbering on the wrong side of the road. After 90 minutes or so we met up with the rest of the group and waited for the van to catch up. The chai stops help to refuel the riders, let the adrenaline levels go down a bit and importantly let the van catch up. So Doc is never so far behind. Doc had given me an anti inflammatory pill as my wrist was a bit swollen, and some support with my many old bandage.

So refreshed we set off again.  The hard parts of yesterday had dried out and we faced them going uphill so it was lot faster, 10 kph instead of 3 kph! And the normal stretches were a lot faster, just assuming there would be potholes and oncoming traffic reports nd every corner. Which turned out to be true most of the time. Today's additional challenge was from jeep taxis charging mercilessly up-country. They would be overtaking on sharp corners, taking the racing line on bends, or just not liking bikes so forcing you to at least consider the off road options, if not have to take them. And judge your pace to either speed up or slow down to meet them at a slightly better part of the road.

We passed a truck that had its front wheel hanging over the edge and four guys armed with what seemed like a string preparing to get it out. Goodness only knows how. 

I stopped a couple of times pretending to take photos or take off some clothing as it was warming up. But I just need a rest from the relentless ride. Trying to find a good line and minimise bashing the bike, while keeping a reasonable speed and being ready for danger at any moment got wearing. If there had been any spots to stop for chai I would have done, but there weren't so we took a quick breather and trundled on. 

By the time we got to our lunch stop of the day before I was five or ten minutes behind the group. But well ahead of the van. I arrived as the food was ready and before it had all been eaten. So perfect really. More of the delicious soup and momos. We had eaten the lady out of momos yesterday so luckily she had had the chance to restock. 

The eight of us would be a major impact on her day. 

We stood around for a smoke afterwards, swapping stories and comments, joshing and watching the well behaved dogs devour a pack of biscuits Ashraf had bought for them.

And the boys took a more photos.

 This is a long way off the beaten track and I'm not sure I'll get to put comments on Trip Advisor about individual spots, but this was excellent.

And the kids cute. Often the girls would be wearing what would pass for princess dresses in the west. Maybe they got dressed up for us, hopefully they normally go around like that.

But it's a sad world as we didn't take photos of them. There is a pressure to not show any interest in young girls, however innocent it would be taken as suspect. Which is sad because they like pretty dresses and being complimented. But we don't. We saddle up and move on.

But one minute outside the village we faced on-going repairs. Which was quite lucky because Michael remembered he had forgotten his phone back with the momos. So there was no delay while he went back. As soon as there was a gap we went through but I got shouted at by a Tourist Taxi Jeep as I would not give way. All for the sake of 5 seconds.

The valley opens up and we went back down to the border checkpoint which seems to be a look quicker going out than coming in. Maybe I just took longer to catch up with the group, maybe it was just easier. But it was a day to take photos. 

Vidhya worked her magic and we did not have to sign individually or produce documents.

The road opened up, was almost entirely tarmaced and was for more like the riding I normally do so I was happy to race along close to Alex. He steadily pulled ahead and I eagerly looked for spot to take photos, but only found a couple. 

There are too many shots of fields and mountains and roadside huts, it needs a more professional camera and the eye of a portrait artist to get a good feel for life up here.

Many of the landscape shots had huge pylons in them. The electricity for a large part of northern India is probably hydroelectric and generated in the mountains. I was thinking this was a blight on the romantic 'natural' landscape, but it is probably the story. India developing rapidly. The pressure of more than a billion people.

And that pressure built as we got closer to the town. The road was bordered by shacks, then buildings and the traffic got more and more dense. And the dust and the fumes. And we were bobbing and weaving up the constant queue of slow moving traffic. And a sharp left into the hotel, who were more prepared than two nights ago. We could get all the bikes in without a huge kerfuffle.

We got to the rooms and waited for the van. And waited, and waited.

Some got a shower and siesta, most got on the internet umbilical to connect with the comforts of home.

I took a stroll down the street, biker jeans and boots are not the best kit in the heat.

There was little to see and a lot of traffic to avoid. So it was a short stroll.

Coming back to the hotel, Lewis was still keeping watch for the van. Michael and I were talking about going into town and inflicting our combined 200kg on a poor rickshaw driver looking for business. But we decided to chat and wait, keeping an eye out for the van.

So it was a surprise to see Doc crammed into the front of a tuc tuc. In the back were all the bags and Lovely. The van was back up the road without a clutch.

Somehow with the miracle of India things would work out. 

We unloaded bags and grabbed a shower. I spent 30 minutes trying to unblock my bank card. I had told the credit card company but failed to phone the bank before coming out. Trying to get cash out of an ATM in Delhi airport had lit up the fraud department. To get through the security checks I got asked questions that did not reflect my account, so I offered to check the details online and call back. But they blocked my internet access when I suggested that and I had to go for a second level. I was left on the line, perhaps to check how serious I was. The lucky part was that Michael had recommended I use Skype, which saved a lot of money. 

All this while sitting on the stairs because the Internet did not work in the room. While on a roll I had a video chat with Hamish in Thailand. Strangely for a 17 year old he had run out of money but met lots of interesting party people!

And out of the lift stepped Paul. He was on the 3 Mile High trip in 2015.

He was a few days late because he'd been biking in Laos on a trip arranged a long time ago and had added this adventure to the agenda. His luggage had got lost in Vientienne, Bangkok or Abu Dhabi. He had his own adventure getting it back and sent on to Guwaharti, where he was booked through to and had stayed while waiting. The adventure involved taking names and phone numbers, photos of each document, buying the taxi drivers SIM card off him and spending a lot of time on the phone.

People emerged from their rooms and lots of happy greetings. While he got sorted the others went to the bar and I finished my chat with Hamish. Behind me there was a gentle thud as if someone had dropped something down the stairwell, then another. Perched on the railings were two monkeys. I guessed they were not hotel pets and had found a way in through the roof. So it was time for the bar.

The tasteful one...

 A couple of self confident young Indian girls asked to have photos taken with us. We went off to an excellent supper, where Alex asked the chef to come out to receive our congratulations. He even whipped up some Mnchurian chicken on request within a few minutes as well.

Back in the bar the girls were in a far corner talking Assamese, Abhi said, but came to the bar and started talking English. We talked among ourselves.

Alex and Michael kindly split the bill, I offered Paul earplugs but he didn't bother with them and I was asleep within minutes.

We both woke with the dawn and the muezzin at about 05:15. Good man his first thought was a brew and even better he had teabags.

So we got chatting and I failed to write much for the blog... But we were getting ready for a long ride to Nagaland...

Adventures in The Lost World 4 - Himalayas going home

It's into the Himalayas day on our Royal Enfield Himalaya bikes. They should feel at home even if we don't.

I slept badly but not terribly and made a cup of tea then did some yoga. It will not be easy when sharing a room to get into yoga poses like downward dogs and cats and cows with a bloke in the room. It shocks my kids if they come down to breakfast to find their father in what they feel are strange semi-sexual poses. But then they're teenagers so any pose is at least semi-sexual. And I don't have to look at me so I don't care!

But it would feel awkward in a small hotel room taking up the floor space with sun salutations.

So get the riding kit laid out for the day, which means t-shirt, body armour, filling the hydration pack, with water and minerals, the boots and jeans with knee and hip protection, then the stuff to go in the panniers, medical kit, hand sanitiser, leather man, duct tape, bungee cords, camera and smokes.

A quick shower and ready for breakfast at seven.

The treat was the roti and the dahl, with some coconut stuff and lots of chai. A spicy breakfast is a good set up for the day.

Back to the room to get the kit on and downstairs for the morning briefing. Follow Alex, stay on the bike and anything can happen.

So off into the maelstrom of Indian town traffic and a quick stop for petrol before heading north, to the mountains. The first stretch of bobbing and weaving through seemingly random manoeuvres gave way to a faster pace with less traffic but more domesticated farm animals strolling or resting in the road. There were few of the buses that charge like rhinos in the built up areas. They really feel they own the road and woe betide any mortal that doesn't give them a wide berth. But the trucks lumber powerfully along spewing unburnt diesel, so overtaking them is best done from a distance. Hugging their rear bumper is not pleasant.

We passed alongside a tiger reserve, with trees and monkeys on one side and paddy fields and soldiers on the other. There seemed a lot of military. And more as we got further north. We stopped for chai at a small settlement, which seemed more like a dozen roadside huts, but spread out in the open were the local butchers,more pigs on blanket than in blanket.

 As expected the chai was excellent and we chatted over a smoke, watching the foot patrol walk up and down the settlement. Well patrol, it was a coupe of fully kitted out soldiers, with helmets and rifles, one held at the ready while the other soldier on the other side of the road had his slung casually on his back.

The van caught up with Lovely, Doc, Asraf the mechanic, the hired driver, the luggage and a spare bike in the back.

So on to the border. About 15 minutes later we pulled to the side as Vidhya worked her magic in the bureaucracy, and we only had to give our driving licence number and sign a log. We were entering the state of Anachal Pradesh, which borders Bhutan and China. 

And the living things changed as we started seriously climbing. Sharp uphill hairpin bends that I had to take in first gear, rocks and sand in the road. The occasional lumbering truck, to keep you on your toes. And up into the land of the Border Road Organisation. In the mountains there is a constant battle of man and machine against nature. The mountains move. Steadily and constantly they creak, so the stable surface of a tar aced road, is not stable for long. Potholes appear, landslides remove whole sections, bits of mountain fall on the road, as rocks, sand and mud. None of which are conducive to biking at speed. But I was loving the bike and the fun of going faster than I could on our last trip to the mountains.

Once we were properly in the mountains we stopped for lunch. Momos. 

At a tiny blue hut, with a pack of dogs outside, good chai inside and delicious soup and momos, let the experts describe. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Momo_(dumpling) 

The guys fed the dogs some biscuits. It was interesting to see the different tactics the dogs used to get attention. Having triplets you notice the tactics, though my kids never wagged their tales they did their own version of sitting up and begging.

However in this land under the influence of Buddhism there was no fighting or even snarling.

Reloaded and rested we continued on up, under the tree canopy, alongside the steep drop into the valley. This was only hundreds of feet of drop, with tress, not the thousands of feet of scree we had a couple of years ago in Himachal Pradesh. But the same kind of deadly nevertheless. 

The road deteriorated into loose rocks and continuous potholes. With stretches of Tarmac. But it was damp, if not wet. I was happily out in front and confident.

Till I came over a small rise and there was a short steep drop to a right hand bend, so I braked, hard. Rear brake only. The back wheel locked and I fought to keep the bike upright. Which worked until the bike had almost stopped when I lost it. Well the bike and any pride. Luckily Will was right behind me and helped me get the bike up and me dusted down. 

The damage was light, a smashed hand guard and some scratches to the handlebar. Lewis came up but had trouble parking his bike. Michael was there soon after with Abhi and Ashraf who checked the bike for damage. Certified it as fine. The others went ahead and I took my sweet time. Of course the road got worse. The tarmac bits had a thick line of diesel which meant going slower as the ideal line for curves was on or through the diesel strip, which would be like ice. So I had to go inside or outside that. The roads got wetter' with that treacherous slimy wetness that comes from a light drizzle after a long dry spell. Then the mudslide, and all this going downhill. I was overly wary but this territory suited Lewis down to the ground. He has been an off road racer for decades and was really enjoying himself. Abhi was trying to stay awake following me. But we finally came to a chai stop. I apologised to Alex for the bike and he took it well, probably because he'd been expecting it and had made us all sign a form accepting responsibility for any damages.

 We stopped for chai at a collection of shacks with their names sponsored by mobile phone companies, but of course no mobile phone company for us.

But there were prayer flags on the hillside. We were coming into the Himalayas. As always in India there is such a mix of people that we would see prayer flags, Muslim dress and Christian schools. Many of the local people are animist, which means believing in the power of the natural world, like Aborigines and Druids. So all living things are their temple.

Winding along a valley bottom we passed through a string of army camps and multiple Slow Police Check, slowing down as the road got narrower and unmarked speed bumps lurked. I hit a few of those going a little faster than I was comfortable with, but you can't see them from a distance and it's only when you're about ten yards away they are obvious. By then braking hard gets you to a 'slightly too fast' speed. But the bikes are really good and I never bottomed the suspension, which seemed to happen a lot with the Bullets. That's when there is no more absorber left and the suspension thingies bang against the end of the tube thing they're in. I think. But it does bang, but it didn't with me, on the Himalaya.

The last stretch got cold as we wound up again to Bomdila. Tight tight uphill hairpins. But uphill is fine. I started really hoping it wouldn't rain for the downhill journey back.

Bomdila seems to go on for ages, with roadside buildings tucked close to the road on a steep hill. And suddenly we pulled up to the hotel. There was not enough space for the bikes in the hotel car park, which would just fit a small car. So some of us left them beside the road. Some guy was telling to park it on some guys front step, but I waited for Alex's orders. The guy was the hotel owner' I just didn't know that at the time.

The van arrived soon after and we lugged our cases up to some pretty basic and cold rooms. There was no rush to get out of the biker gear. At least we could add more layers, like a fleece, a second scarf, a cap.

And off into town to search for beer. The beer was close by, across form the hotel but the shop looked closed as it was barred. The minimum beer strength was 8%, which we knew from experience would not be a good idea. So we wandered a few paces up the hill and pretended to be interested in some guys either putting up or taking down a large wooden podium in the stadium. Logically it would be taking it down as the Chief Minister for the state had visited two days before, but they seemed to be putting it up. The stadium floor had carefully arrayed poles sticking between 3 and 5 metres out of the ground, hundreds of them. We never figured out the purpose.

The booze shop across the road also looked closed. But we rolled up to the window and a guy rushed from next door and scooted through a tiny door below the serving counter, which was behind the steel grill. Checking out the alcohol content we found some Fosters and Kingfisher at only 5% and loaded up with those. They were already chilled from being in the open air.

Alex and Abhi were in a small stall opposite the hotel, both had bought hats, Alex's more traditional ski type hat, Abhi had on a slightly furry Russian looking thing. They were eating delicious fried spicy things out of rolled up newspaper. So we ordered more.

Back in the hotel we found the restaurant, rearranged the furniture and started a session. Everyone was fully wrapped up in their biker gear with extra layers.

I was foolishly sitting by the wall, which was providing the chill factor to the room. Will noticed it first and moved away. We drank, food arrived, I started a beer an tower. The kids knocked it down, repeatedly. We joked and talked and smoked and drank. And found different headgear to keep warm.

 

 

 And off to a cold room that smelt of damp and bathroom mould. But I didn't really care, the bedcovers were warm and I had a room to myself again and could dread the journey back down the hill.

Adventures in The Lost World 2 - Concrete jungle to elephant greeting.

The flight from Guwaharti was easy enough and we had sensibly had a overnight stay in the Holiday Inn near Delhi airport. At least we were adjusting to the time difference quickly. 

The Holiday Inn had internationally priced beer, but the food was very good indeed. I limited myself to only two rounds of the buffet main course, but could hardly move afterwards.

Breakfast was the same with fresh papaya and curious spicy dishes that had to be tried.

There was even spicy food for breakfast on the Guwaharti flight, with a couple of hand wrapped tiny tangy balls, that were probably breath fresheners rather than sweets.

And our luggage arrived and we started looking for Lovely. Wil and Michael stopped me heading the wrong way out of the airport and we came across a stand with a big sign for mobile phones. The guys behind the desk were probably maintenance staff taking a break because they met our enquiries for SIM cards with bemused amusement. We started looking for Lovely, who organises the logistics for the adventures and we thought he would drive us to the Brahmaputra Jungle Resort for our first night. No Lovely so we stood bemused ourselves outside the airport until Michael spotted a tiny guy, hemmed in by a collage of signs and greeters. Just visible were our names in tiny letters. 

He got an old jeep like cruiser and we loaded our luggage. As we loaded ourselves he started talking about a different taxi for three. We thought he was going to get three other people, since we had no idea how many others would be on this adventure.

But no, we were driven 20 metres to a smaller white car with air conditioning. One car for the luggage and one for the passengers. Our new driver spoke no English and us no Hindi, so I took a photo of the luggage vehicle to get the licence plate, just in case we all got separated for one reason or another. We didn't we leapfrogged for the hour long journey out of the rapidly growing city of Guwaharti. Noticing the expansion Will thought a good business idea would plant hire and with five minutes we passed three companies doing that good business.

It was interesting being back in the bustle of Indian traffic. The driver was intent on showing how fast he could go in the few stretches not jammed packed, but he stopped too close to the vehicle in front in time to give himself any room for manoeuvre, so we watched the other lanes and the luggage vehicle glide past us each time. He did give us a refresher lesson on using the horn in India. In traffic it should be constant. Just to make sure other people know you exist. 

It seemed a quick journey as we turned of the main road and into the jungle. Well it was more scrub and farmland than jungle, but it was green and the people normally smiling. The drive to the Brahmaputra Jungle Resort had a sign 'Turn off A/C. Drive in first gear'. It was a steep climb. We could only hope it wouldn't rain for our first experience with the new Royal Enfield Himalayan bikes that Alex had just got. We were going to be the first to ride them.

First gear got us to the parking area where the team were preparing the brand new Royal Engield Himalaya bikes. They looked really good, but first there was meeting friends of leg standing. Alex and Vidhya seemed very happy to see us. Abhi, Ashraf and Lovely were working on the bikes. Doc was doc-ing. Lots of smiles all round and we got to admire the bikes.

Single cylinder (apparently) and should not be compared to the Bullet as they are completely different. But everyone will compare them to the Bullet anyway. 

Our taxi was summoned to take us the further 50 metres to the reception where he managed to stop in the small parking area without hitting the elephant. That was a bit surprising. Well being greeted by the elephant more than the stopping.

We also met Lewis, from Oz, who is also on the Adventure. He has done lots of trips with different tour companies, but this is his first time with Nomadic Knights, poor guy.

As soon as the bags were taken to the rooms we headed for a late lunch and some beer, well beer and some late lunch. Which was delicious.

Back to the rooms to unpack some more and hand out presents. Whisky for Alex, chocolate for Vidhya, since we'd failed to find jelly beans at any of the airports.

Will had been handed a hospital pass as Alex organised various stuff to be delivered to him in the UK, in the hope he would bring it on the trip. The keys rings were OK, but 13kg of ratchet straps were too much and Will had left them in the UK. 

Exhausted we grabbed a siesta in preparation for the usual evening of a beer, or two, too much food and whisky. Alex was so happy to open the whiskey he was only mildly rude about the name of Will's offering, a single malt blend called Monkey Shoulder.

The bottle did not survive the night. Lots of jokes and stories, old and new. A new topic was the ratchet straps, that would be brought up steadily over the next few days. Trust, friendship and ratchet straps. Getting ready for a gentle first day. After lots of travelling and failing to stream the England Ireland rugby match we went to bed. Even then I tried to follow the score from the BBC website, but the Internet was too weak so I went to sleep.

I was not looking forward to taking a new bike down the First Gear Only drive, but we would have to see.

Adventure in The Lost World 3 - Bikes away

Our first day of biking.

This was to be a gentle ride up country to get us used to the bikes. So we were told to meet for breakfast at 7 for a briefing. I was fully kitted out, ready to ride and banged on Michael and Will's door to find them in a similar state, but we were all confused as we thought we maybe heard something about leaving at 10-ish.... Anyway showing willing wouldn't matter.

Of course it did. Alex thought we were silly, but those were not his exact words.

Nevertheless we got a rundown of the North East of India, with tales of state partitions, the birth of Bangladesh from a natural disaster in the early 70's, of animism, and multiple more formal religions, of tribes and insurgency, newly discovered species and roads on the map that don't exist on the ground. The tension is being built. "On this stretch of road we'll have to do 50km without stopping, for any reason." "Here they ambushed a police convoy last year and killed 17 policemen." But we have an advantage, we're white. Which means we are not seen as threatening. The local people are proud of their area and want people to appreciate it. We look forward to the chance.

Then the rules of the road briefing. There are none. So be aware.

In India we should drive on the left. In theory. We had already encountered lots of bikes and tuc tucs and the occasional car riding the wrong way up the side of the road. But if you see a right hand indicator going this could mean someone is turning right, or overtaking, or that you should overtake. So you overtake at your peril, because they could be turning right.

Use your horn, all the time. Don't have your headlights on, it confuses people. It normally means you have no brakes but are riding or driving anyway. Interesting.

So after the briefing we had a relatively quick breakfast, which meant just three omlettes for me, along with toast and chai. Always chai.

Then we gear up and conscientiously check our bags are loaded on the truck. Too many stories of missing bags, then you are in trouble because getting it back is a lot of extra work.
Gearing up means different things to different people...

And the new bikes.

A quick talk through the technical stuff like cylinders and torque and horsepower and stuff. I understand a couple of things like the bikes seeming more powerful than the specs and they have cc, I think.

They feel really good and we check that the main things work, like the horn and the throttle. The indicators as well, just to show willing.

I take the bike for a test spin round the car park, at 3 miles an hour. But manage to park in the shade as the day was heating up. Or was it nerves.

Then Alex led us off. Luckily Will went ahead so I could watch his speed and line. I made it to the bottom of Turn Off A/C Drive and onto the flat road. It stayed flat for a while, running alongside a tea plantation. As we came out of the side road there were lots of very different looking people at the roadside huts. This area is a mix of faces and races, with a lot of 'almond eyes' as the Italians like to think romantically of Asians. Most people were smiling and some waved.

The road east ran parallel to the mighty Brahmaputra river, but we couldn't see it. Close to town there were a couple of cars, a lorry and some tuc tucs that chose random lanes to drive on. So on the dual carriageway they would be coming at you head on, on the side of the road, or even in the fast lane. Just stay alert and give them a wide berth.

Up through the hills, past the rusty remains of former factories, girder skeletons and flaps of corrugated rust. Then a small quarry, or a huge brick factory and more ruins. Gradually the countryside opened up, tall straggly trees in small groups, and open fields, and lots of ponds at the edges of settlements. We knew from the briefing not to go in the ponds. All sorts is in there, none of it good.

After an hour or so we stopped for chai. With a local style fan oven.

We saw guys up to their waist in water, harvesting or trying to catch something. We saw vultures and storks soaring, cattle and goats on the road.

On through the more open countryside, with fewer motorised contrarians coming straight at us. And a stop for lunch where we had some of the best Dahl ever made. Under a tin roof, with tables and plastic chairs that Lewis tried to break. But the food and the chai very good.

We were not sure if the chef was Nigel Farage in disguise, or a close relation.

Hanging around for a smoke afterwards a kid of about 6 or 7 shyly clung to his mother before she let him come and introduce himself, proud of his English. He asked about us and talked about school, very politely shaking hands. He came back a few minutes later and introduced his older brother and the rest of the family. As Will said, the wonderful difference is that in the UK strangers would be avoided. Here we are welcomed.

And back on the bikes to cross the Brahmaputra. It's really big. I got told off for measuring it at this narrow point, 4 1/2 km. Vidhya and I stopped to take photos on the middle of the bridge and the panorama stretched all the way around,180 degrees. Luckily this is the dry season. Monsoons start in a couple of months, then the river really gets going.

Iti s incredible to believe these two photos were taken from the same spot. Its a big river!
A new bridge is going up. You can see the pillars steadily rising with people clambering among the rebars, but I didn't get a picture though it looks as though the pillars are being hand built.

On the far side we roared on the open road with similar countryside, clumps of tall trees and open fields into Tezpur. Still in Assam, but a big town with the usual bustle, seeming horribly confusing as multitudes of people go about their daily lives with multiple individual solutions. 

And in among the concrete chaos was the hotel, where we crammed the seven bikes into space for two cars and unloaded, waiting for the van with the luggage.

Vidhya got everyone sorted for rooms and since Paul would not be here for another day or two I got a room to myself.

That was a mistake...

We showered and tried to get on the wifi, which worked if you sat on the end of the bed with the device pointed north north east and at chest height. But there was internet.

I tried to write some more, but failed to figure out how to save and it got lost.

So down to the bar for a beer. The bar is really quite surprising, more like an 80s nightclub, or naughties lap dancing club, said one of the guys, who'd heard about the style from a friend who overheard it in a bar, apparently...

The beers were more western prices, as was the excellent selection of whiskies. But we stuck with beer, followed by a superb dinner. But we were not allowed to drink booze there, so we had water. Which felt strange. Good, but strange. The food was delicious and it was easy to eat too much, especially the chillie chicken.

Then Alex decided we should have a party, in my room. Michael brought the whisky and we started with the usual ragging. Alex asked if he could smoke, so I said no. It sort of helped because he smoked out of the window, but I drew the line at cigars. Everyone got the wrong side of the driving limit and I started comparing the insistent demands for smoking to kids who push and push to find the boundaries. Of course explaining this out loud set off a new line of ragging. And it's been a recurrent theme. Boundaries. And ratchet straps.

When the party wound down I opened the door, turned on the fan and hoped the draught would get rid of some of the smoke. I really did not fancy sleeping in a smoky room. Another of those social changes, It's a rare thing to smoke inside nowadays.

Hopefully I'd get a reasonable night's sleep. It was into the mountains tomorrow. And we know what that's like, with the weather and the landslides...

Adventures in The Lost World 1 - Setting up and setting off

We are lucky, living in a lucky age. Especially when we feel that taking 36 hours to reach a destination is a long time. And three flights. How crazy. Most of us limit our destinations to two flights and a lot less than 24 hours. But here we are, on the third flight. This one from Delhi to Guwaharti.

For the first flight, Michael drove us across Italian peninsular and through the mountains that run down the centre of Italy and we got the flight from Rome. We met Will in Dubai, where his flight from Birmingham landed an hour late and got the same flight to Delhi.

Michael and I live very close to each other in central Italy. I am 5 miles from the coast and he is a further 5 miles inland, in a small town called Petritoli. This is his fourth bike trip to India, my third, all with him. Will and Michael have been friends for almost five decades,  since getting each other into trouble at school and through scrapes together in various cities and bars across the world. Will is a proper bike rider, he flies planes and was a rally driver, so he understands motorised transport.

We are off to the north east of this massive country, seven states in 14 days. The part of India between Bangladesh, Bhutan and Burma. Separated from the rest of India by a strip that narrows to 23km wide. The chicken's neck.

And these states have only been open to visitors in the last few years. We need special permits for Restricted Areas, as do our Indian guides. Well, when we say Indian we include Alex of Nomadic Knights who arranges these adventures. We have only been biking in India with him. South India, the Himalayas, 3 Miles High, and now here, The Lost World. Alex is strange. I know this because his gorgeous wife Vidyha said so!

He is also someone I have complete faith in to go on an adventure with. No promises, just an ability to dig most of us out of troube, most of the time. 

Getting here was not simple. Not just the travel, but the preparation.

For me it was navigating the treacherous waters of Italian and Indian bureaucracy. The Lost World also borders China, a chunk was taken by China in a short war in 1962 and parts are still disputed territory. So one of the new e-tourist visas is not enough, we need a full visa and everyone needs special passes. But few Indians and fewer foreigners come to this part of the country, it is still Lost.

To get the full tourist visa I filled in the application online, took a couple of days to assemble the accompanying. documentation and got the bus across Italy, through the mountains, to Rome. The mountains are big and not well known. They divide east and west Italy, going down the centre like a spine. I can see three peaks of 10,000 feet from my house, often with snow on in May. So they are tall, formed by Africa crashing into Europe. 

The bus journey to the Eternal City of Rome which takes about four hours, but the Eternal City is more like an eternal nightmare when you need something done.

And this Brit living in Italy needed a full tourist visa. Nervously handing over the full documentation, treble checked with the website, it was rejected. I needed lots more documentation that was not on the website. Proof of travel and accomodation, bank statements and a letter of introduction. Dejectedly I went up the road to Namaskar, an agency specialising in helping visa victims. They had helped Michael and I back in 2014 when we had a nightmare with our applications for the Great Big South Indian Adventure that Will was also on. That trip is part of a separate blog.

Back in Rome, we could not assemble everything within the one hour before the visa section closed for the day, but I went back with what I had and at least the lady on the desk took pity and I was allowed to talk to the consular head. He highly recommended the e-visa, but since that type of visa is only confirmed when you enter the country it is not enough to get the special permits. A week later I managed to get another spare day and returned to Rome with all the new bits of paper. The visa came through only three weeks after that, which made me only a week late for the visa deadline. Luckily that was an Indian deadline, so like an Italian one, flexible. At least this time the consulate had given permission for Namaskar to pick up the visa and they couriers do it to me. Total cost, including the buses and the courier service, €320 plus two full days travel. You have to be dedicated.

With the visa out of the way the excitement could slowly build, and it was a good excuse for Michael and I to ride out occasionally. He was either on his Triumph Thunderbird, a big beautiful machine, or his Royal Enfield Bullet, the type of bike we had ridden on the last two trips with Alex and Nomadic Knights in India. He gets lots of admiration for the Thunderbird and lots of questions about the 1950s designed Bullet. I was on my Triumph Tiger, which so many Italians know about because it has three cylinders. I have no idea what difference that makes, but the Italians do. So many learnt to drive on mopeds and many graduated to bikes before cars. Mopeds and motorbikes are integral to Italian culture, Vespa and Lambretta, Ducatti and Moto Guzzi, lots of names ending in vowels.

But our excitement about the trip only really took off in the week before we travelled. We talked about what to bring and since we have too much 'stuff' it was more about what not to bring. It became a competition about how little to take. Checking the weather it would be from 13 to 30 centigrade, so we would need a variety of clothing, plus hydration packs and body armour. From the foothills of the Himalayas to the jungles near Burma. 16 days travelling.

We will only know if we made the right choices at the end, but I ended up with two bags totalling 28kgs, including 3 litres of duty free whisky and one of the bags was carry on with the bike helmet.

Michael drove us across and through the mountains to Fiumicino airport. We were still buzzed with the inevitable adrenaline rush from getting through as much of the mountain that always arrives before a big trip. There is always the expectation, normally from other people, that you can do just one more job before you go.

So the few unfinished jobs were left unfinished and we left.