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.