Category: India

My trip started in Delhi. Arrived at the airport and got scammed within 15 minutes of leaving the building. To be fair, it was the only time in my whole time in India I actually felt ripped off. The scam involves taking the metro (train) into the city. If you use a larger note (the types you would have received when using the ATM in arrivals) the ticket seller gives you 100 rupees  (US$1.25) less than the required amount in your change. With all the people waiting in line behind you, not being used to the notes as you've just arrived, and trying to work everything else out, it is quite easy not to count the change. On a subsequent visit, the scam was repeated only for me to wait at the counter. Upon realising that I knew what was going on, another 100 rupees was produced and given as if the initial change had been a one-off mistake. The amount of money is trivial, the impression on a new arrival is lasting.

The airport area seems to thrive on rip offs. Airport hotels are another huge source of scams. There are quite a number of hotels that advertise in websites such as booking.com that are listed in fantastic areas (so very close to the terminals), have pictures that represent unbelievable value for money, and, have very good ratings to boot. Wrong! The actual location is much further from the terminals (taxi, not walking distance), the quality will be crap, and as for the higher ratings that were given, they are all fake. A bit of research by looking at the lower ratings (the real ones, usually given by western clients) will let you know if the place is legitimate. Such a shame arseholes still walk on this earth. Anyway, out with the bad, in with the good. Onwards to Leh, Ladakh.

I have already been to this area (on different routes) on a motorbike previously so I will try not to repeat myself too much. You can read my old post here.

Started in the city of Leh. Not much had changed, not even the guesthouse I stayed in previously. Adjusted to the altitude of over 3,500 meters with the usual background headache. Sleep was tough with the still-fighting dogs having their war every night, the mosque advertising their morning prayers at 6am and some other blaring loudspeaker having to let everyone know that wake up time was still a couple of hours away. It was time to hire a bike. I decided on a 2024 450cc Royal Enfield Himalaya. A pricier option (US$27 per day) but as it name suggests it is built for harsh roads, is more powerful and has an extra large tank so that petrol station worries are far less of a worry. The furthest I was intending to go was to Srinigar but I wouldn't be taking the direct route.   

So off I went. My first day of riding actually repeated my first day last time I came here. The roads were good. The bike ran well. Did a couple side trips but nothing of note. Stayed in Lamayuru that night in the same guesthouse as last time (a theme seems to be happening here). 

The next few days were far more interesting. After leaving Lamayuru I took a turn off the main road and headed south into the Yapola Valley. The road was still good as I entered the Yapola gorge with steep sided cliff faces rising from the narrow gorge with only the road and the Wanlah Tokpo (a tributary of the Indus river) squeezed within. A couple times I had to stop to ensure the right turn off was being taken but overall the way looked after itself. When starting the day I thought, for some reason, this would be an easy(ish) day. Not long after the gorge the road turned to dust (so to speak), 2nd gear was the norm and eventually the first of 3 mountain passes began. The roads were more like upgraded tracks, quite uneven, although, dotted along the way there were road workers preparing the road for a bit of a long overdue maintenance upgrade. The mountain passes were quite challenging with many steep hairpin turns that until you turned the corner you had no idea of the correct line with rocks and loose stones always a risk. As the proverb goes, slow and steady.

The mountain passes were all around the 5000m mark and the going was tough. Excitement comes in many forms when your bike riding but during days like this where the going is slow to come around a corner and be confronted by a made asphalt road is as good as it comes. Joy, exhilaration... maybe a few tears. A few kilometers from the top of the 2nd pass the road actually became a road! The bike smelt speed as 3rd gear then 4th was engaged as I moved up to the top of the pass and then the start of the downhill section. They say things have a way of evening out and it seemed true in this case. After around 5km of good asphalt the road ended. The workers continued creating a base for new sections consisting of loose stones, and, combined with the hairpin turns going slow once again became my companion. Still it was good while it lasted. The rest of the day the bad roads mostly continued. A couple of water crossings slowed things down but late in the day I eventually made it to my destination, Lingshet. This is a beautiful town set both on a hillside and in a valley. The fields of green barley(?) contrasting with the earth colors of the surrounding mountains. I ended up sleeping on a floor mat of a traditional house owned by an old lady who spoke no english. Her son visited (a monk) so for a brief time I could communicate. Sleep was pretty good that night although the bedbugs had a feast.

I discovered I had to leave Lingshet the same way I arrived so for a little over an hour I backtracked from the previous day. Seeing some marmots helped but with roads continuing to be poor it was going to be a long day. Upon reaching the Zanskar river, while taking photos from above, my motorbike trip would change. Upon giving a friendly wave to a passing car it stopped. The driver asked for a favour. I ended up with a set of car keys and an address of a hotel for whom they belonged. He had inadvertently forgotten to return them. This in turn resulted in me staying in a very nice hotel close to where I was originally going to stay, the town of Padum. An included smorgasbord for breakfast and dinner all unlocked (with a set of keys) for a very nice price. Scored! Oh yeah nearly forgot. Just as good as coming across a made road when riding, no wait a sec, maybe better, I had hot showers. Ahhh, a first for the trip...so very, very nice!

Back to the trip, the road followed the Zanskar river. Many times the river took all the space available so the roads were cut into the surrounding rock cliffs. It was quite impressive although the quality of the road beneath wasn't.  Eventually the road  opened, the road workers started reappearing and then after a few kilometers of a good, runway wide dirt road (why?) my long lost old friend reappeared. A tear appeared in my eye.

Between day 3 & 4 I came to a conclusion. There was way too much monsoonal rain in my furthest destination, Srinigar, and, I liked this hotel way too much. With age comes softness. So I decided to alter my original plans and take a 1 day trip south towards a mountain pass that the army is upgrading, Shinkula Pass. The idea was to leave relatively early (after a yummy breakfast, French toast anyone?), ride for 4½ hours and no matter how far I got, I would turn back and return. The ride started poorly as there were 2 routes on the map that converged not far into the trip, and, I took the wrong one. This resulted in bouncing through many-a-large rock laden track for ½ an hour. After the routes converged, overall, the road was pretty good. Quite a lot of made roads with sections of dirt roads. Still some bumpy going here and there but I made good time. After an interesting police check post (an indian was pretty upset that his ID had been taken from him) I got to the top of the pass and a little beyond. A little cloudy at the top but it really was great scenery, well worth the effort. On the way back, with no bag on the back of the bike, I ended up taking on 3 hitchhikers (including one road worker) during different stages of the trip. They were all very appreciative of the ride as the traffic was pretty sparse. The only other thing of note was when I nearly lost the bike on one of those dirt sections on the return trip. Afternoons make water crossings deep (melted snow from above) and upon going through one I hit quite a large submerged rock and in rodeo style one of my hands left the handlebars in surprise. Fortunately, and surprisingly, quick reactions saved the day and all went well from then on.  

After the previous 3 days I needed a rest day. My bum was sore, my right hand and wrists lacked any type of power and my thumb (still now, 3 weeks later) is numb at the end. So for the most part of this day I stayed at the hotel that I never wanted to leave. But, the following day it was time to go. My route since after the first day of riding was shaped like a 'V' and now I would travel up from the bottom toward the town of Kargil. Mostly the road was pretty average though not as bumpy as previous. I originally was thinking of staying in a town called Rangdum but upon arriving that opinion changed pretty quickly. The revised plan was to get as close to Kargil as possible. The last few hours of the day were pretty gruelling as the traffic grew. Getting stuck behind diesel spewing trucks wasn't part of the plan. The road was now tarmac but with the lowering sun it was diffcult to see upcoming ditches or potholes. This meant you couldn't get any type of rythym or speed in your riding. At one point after waiting for trucks to cross a stream I started my own crossing accidently in second gear and stalled half way across. Wet shoes wasn't helping my attitude. So when I finally found an over priced hotel about 8km before Kargil I was quite happy to pay the extra and call it stumps. Oh yeah, I also found out that night that my point and shoot camera that I use for videos had been set up incorrectly since the start of the trip meaning that all the videos were over exposed (too white). It brings me comfort to think that tough days create character. Shitloads of that after this day.

Day 7 started by cruising into Kargil which would best be described as chaotic. Traffic everywhere which led to traffic jams and impatient drivers. It seems if the car in front of you moves 2m then stops you are obliged to also move that 2m, or at least that is what the cars behind think with horns ablazing. A few nasty evil stares were cast behind but I guess the motorbike helmet and glasses probably hid the anger in my eyes. Time to get out. I headed north to about 5km from the Pakistan border to a ghost town called Hunderman. This town, set in the mountains, was abandoned during one of the wars between the two countries with the locals deciding to head over the border to Pakistan. Getting there was quite scary as the drop offs were quite steep and the roads very narrow. This added to idiot racing car drivers flying down from the opposite direction meant I was very relieved to get to the top. For the way back, I waited for a car and used it as a human shield by following behind. Smart move Dave. The town itself was away from the main road so it wasn't totally exciting but definitely worth the side trip. From here, after a couple of wrong turns, I headed up another pass and then the rest of the day I followed a river along a scenic valley to my destination, Dha.  

I had seen a few groups of riders since leaving Leh, 8 days previous. All in Padum, all in (I've mentioned this before) my very nice hotel. Other than a group of 3 French people, they had all been Indians. All had been accompanied by a support car in case of problems. So when I met an Indian rider this day doing exactly the same thing as me I was rapt. Bag tied to the back of his bike, flexibility to go where you want (roads permitting) and stay as long as you want. That's unless, of course, you run out of petrol. I had really wanted to visit a town off the main road, the Aryan village of Hanu Gongma, but the petrol gremlims in my head told me to abandon the attempt when around 10km away. One of the problems with this type of riding is that you don't know what lies ahead. Bad roads mean slow going which equate to bad fuel economy. 60km to the next petrol station and my bike said I had about that distance. I made it to the petrol station in the end with the road flip flopping between very good and smaller sections of bollocks. It had been a great day's riding with rugged mountain scenery while following a raging river. After the petrol station I retraced my first day's ride, a lot of fun riding on excellent roads. The only issue being when approaching Leh. With increased traffic meant increased idiots which meant bad driving as some drivers think lanes don't exist and cutting corners with a bigger vehicle should mean the smaller motorbike will somehow get out of the way. A few times a raised finger was produced. I hope they understood what that meant. That night, my last, I stayed in a homestay across the valley from Leh in a town called Stok. The next day I still had the bike but went back to Leh. A great trip with many adventures. The riding was much tougher than my last trip here, with the roads not as good as those closer to Pakistan and China. The government is really doing heaps to make this area accessible all year round, building tunnels and sealing dirt roads (primarily, so the military can be ready for any upcoming issues) so it won't be long (a couple years at most?) that the rides I have been doing will be so much easier and take so less a time. Anyone who rides a motorbike should make the effort to get over here. Great stuff.

I had booked a plane to go to Eastern India and Nepal as the next part of the journey. Monsoon weather meant I bailed on this idea and instead I have ventured much further east but more on that in the next blog (a much shorter one I expect (and really, really hope).

It changed. Away from the flatlands, the India I knew and accepted, loved at times, endured during others, transformed before my eyes. In all my visits to India I have always spent my times a way's south of the Himalayas. As I wrote in my last Indian post a hectic welcome was guaranteed immersing you in overpowering sights, smells and sounds. But this time things changed. It started when I flew into New Delhi which had become infested with flies since I had last left 6 weeks ago. Strange. After Delhi I headed north by train to the relatively nearby religious cities of Haridwar and Rishikesh. Foreign tourists come here for courses in yoga and meditation (Rishikesh is famous for these). Indian pilgrims, just as with the city of Varanasi, come here to bathe in the holy river Ganges. I came here for reasons I am not sure. With the winding roads leading into the foothills of the Himalayas came a change of pace. The sounds of horns became more occasional, the throngs of people dissipated so that space became the norm rather than the exception. Life became more relaxed, smiles on peoples faces more common. At the time I was going to write this blog under the heading labeled 'Weird Cities of India' but since my thoughts have changed.

For those that know me yoga, meditation and being a vegan just isn't on my resumé. Going to a restaurant and ordering a chicken shish kebab (as per the menu) and receiving skewered tofu that has the consistency of days old custard didn't impress me one bit. The cows and pigs around (and in) town seemed happy. Even the monkeys were in abundance. Finding meat dishes (with actual meat in them) in these towns was like going on a pilgrimage. The holy grail was out there somewhere but finding it was another matter. Look, I have eaten so many vegetarian dishes on this trip and have (and still do) enjoy them so very much but...they come with the proviso that if I want a meat meal (other than the sacrilegious eating of beef and pork) it is just a matter of ordering it. In these religious towns of Haridwar and Rishikesh this personal contract was broken, so I left. Besides, it just wasn't that exciting.

During these times my travels were mainly on a whim. Not knowing where I would go next, directionless. I was waiting on a Pakistani visa that would give me the direction and zest that was sorely needed. I ended up in a city called Chandigarh only because it was the most convenient way out of those previously mentioned towns and was in the direction of Pakistan. It was here that my weird Indian cities headline nearly entrenched itself. Here, India being the India I knew stopped. A city of wide open boulevards where horns are rare and traffic is organised. Where trees line the roads and shade is abundant. Shop fronts look modern, westernised and are multi-storied. Makes a change from roofs of corrugated iron with a ton of rubbish on top to hold them down. A modern well planned out city (with a great microbrewery that served cold, delicious, cheap beer and wonderful Thai food...with meat). I saw bike lanes! Weird indeed. I spent a couple days here, visited a huge rock garden that was originally (decades ago) a hobby of a local, on squatted land, before the council decided to reclaim the land and thus demolish his work. Instead they saw the worth in his project and gave him a team to continue his work. As rock gardens go, taking into account that my rock garden assessment skills are quite rocky, I thought this is up there with the best rock gardens I have seen. Admittedly I can't think of another rock garden I've ever seen. Not that great an advert to visit but if you are in town it is surely worth a peek.

Next up I traveled to what I perceived as my last weird city (before I decided instead that it was not weird at all in these areas). The city's name is Shimla. Fortunately I really liked this town as it was here the Pakistani government decided that I was not worthy of a visa to visit my favorite country in the world. Gutted doesn't cover my feelings at the time. Down but not out, Shimla at least was cooler with a bit of altitude, had a great walking mall and enough 'exploring' lane ways (all without motorbikes) to keep things interesting and pleasant. Getting fitter came standard with the town as it was perched on some pretty steep slopes and with temples perched on top of the mountain it made for some good exercise. But still, I had a feeling of emptiness, lack of knowing what to do next. That is, until I read about a few places that got the juices flowing once more.

There is a road trip that due to the views and valleys, the high altitude, wonderfully perched monasteries and precarious drops, makes it, from what I have read, one of the best drives in Asia. So I headed towards Spiti Valley to experience it for myself. Sort of didn't make it but this will come out in the story. My first stop on the way was Parvati Valley. In this valley I stayed in two towns, Jari/Matuera & Kasol, that although were set in a lush green mountain settings with raging river running by were mostly your nondescript tourist places. Not much to talk about then. The real reason I visited this valley was the town of Malana. Many years ago I visited 3 valleys in Pakistan close to the Afghan border called the Kalasha valleys. In Malana, just like in these valleys, there are inhabitants that are suspected to be descendants of deserters from when Alexander the Great passed these ways. Both areas were quite secluded and over time developed their own separate customs and religions. In Malana, these customs brought the belief that their race is superior and all other races are unclean. So, as I would ironically stroll along the muddy paths within the village the locals once alerted to my presence would move aside, allowing me through as to ensure no physical contact with the unclean one. This unclean contact was extended to the touching of any of their belongings. Breaking these rules would invoke penalties. Touching a religious building came with a 3,500rps fine (US$50). I never was fined for any misdemeanors but if I was to pay I would of needed to first place the money on the ground, let go of the money where upon the recipient would then feel free to take the cash. The same principal applied in the few shops in the village. You were never allowed to enter the premises but could point out what you needed. Goods would be placed on the ground as would the money to purchase them. There could never be a conduit of contact between the clean and unclean other than the ground we walked on. The town's main economic lifeline is the supposedly world famous Malana Cream. This is hashish made from the many marijuana crops spread out around town. Although the 3 days I spent here the only foreigners I met were 3 Israelis that were passing through (you have about an hour hike to get to the village) there must have been many tourists in the past as the price for this hash was definitely not set at an Indian level. With this branding as an unclean and all these unsociable rules you'd expect the locals to be unfriendly. They definitely weren't overly receptive but instead generally amicable. That is except for the drunk bloke who took offence at me while I was being told of some of the rules. I stood up for myself which caused a bit of angst with some other locals but hey, I'm not in a pot getting stewed so all ended well. True friendliness definitely existed in the guesthouse I stayed in. It was run by a family that followed some of the village's customs but allowed outsiders to freely do as they wished within their walls. Evenings I mixed with the family, many who were visiting due to a festival and ate some pretty mean Indian food (vegetarian of course). I even got to share some whisky that one of the relatives brought with him. Nice.

Heading north next town was called Manali. The town is separated into two parts with old Manali up the hill filled with hotels, restaurants and tourists. The lower part is more the commercial side of things. Not too much to do here, went on a nice long walk through the wooded mountains but my aim was to move on out as soon as possible. Unfortunately due to heavy rain that had to wait as landslides cut the town off from going north, my intended direction. In the north the road splits either towards my initial destination Spiti valley to the east, or to the capital of Ladakh, Leh, to the north. Both sides became accessible at the same time but in one of those why not moments I decided to take the Leh route instead thinking Spiti valley could wait. Most tourists fly to Leh and after fifteen and a half hours in a jeep, over some pretty washed out bumpy roads, I understood why. Still character building stuff it was. Think I got about an hour's sleep and since we left at around 5pm I was very happy to finally arrive.

I really enjoyed Leh and the surrounding areas. I took off for 10 days on a motorbike (see my previous blog) which was the highlight but the town itself had enough to keep you interested. From the many good (but cheap) restaurants scattered throughout town to the Buddhist temples perched on the nearby mountain, Tibetan prayer wheels and the walking mall (now considered by me as normal). The people were friendly even with the influx of tourists and I even got to witness a Buddhist festival (low key but good). Although this was all very nice there was also the dark side to Leh. A sinister shadow that only came out at night. During the day there was an abundance of peaceful dogs that would be asleep around the town. Even in the heavily walked area of the mall they ignored and slept through all those boots plodding next to their noses. But at night, once the humans left the streets, these previously docile bundles of fur went into a full-on war mode. Of course during my travels I have experienced angry dogs from too close and annoying barking dogs while lying in bed. But this was different. The conflicts seemed to last all night. The barking would so very often transform into screaming yelps of pain as I assume one of the dogs would stray into enemy territory. The front line was quite close to my hotel but after arriving back from my motorbike trip one of the sides must of made gains as it had shifted further away. But be assured and not fooled, this bloody battle is still far from over, even if the world press continues to ignore it.

Overall I stayed in Ladakh for quite awhile and when leaving had to decide on my initial plan of Spiti valley (another very long 20hr taxi ride to what I thought would be to a similar landscape) or a 40 minute flight back to my rock garden city of Chandigarh. I must be getting old. Back in Chandigarh I bussed back and retrieved my backpack in Shimla then had to decide on where to go next. I had a flight in about 7 days so I headed for Delhi before getting straight on an overnight train to Bhopal where I would spend the morning at a mosque, the Taj-ul-Masajid. A beautiful mosque and friendly muslim students made the visit worthwhile. From here I would spend the next days heading north back to Delhi. The misses on the trip back were the tiny town of Sanchi with it's overpriced, although very old, Buddhist Stupas that historians or pilgrims might enjoy (I am neither) and Gwalior which had its moments with a long mountaintop fort but overall I didn't rate highly. These letdowns were offset by two very special places. The town of Orchha had a myriad of Buddhist religious buildings and forts. Exploring these were a joy with hidden corridors and stairs leading upwards to great views of the river and surrounding woods. In one of these enclosed passageways I had trouble with bats swooping around my by now crouched body, in another that ended abruptly falling distance up the side of a building's exterior, a dog sat singing (ok, really howling) at the sound of Buddhist ceremonial music coming from a distant temple. I really enjoyed this place and the lack of any real number of tourists added to the experience. The other special place I didn't have any trouble finding hoards of tourists. The city of Agra houses the Taj Mahal. This is my third visit here so I decided to bypass the visit inside and instead concentrate on the areas surrounding the complex. It is such a wonderful place to visit and fully deserves it's reputation. I found a great hostel where I could wake in the morning and open my curtains and welcome the new day with views of this great and beautiful structure. I always find it hard to say goodbye to famous landmarks, usually always attempting an additional glance back before forcing myself to leave, but new experiences awaited and it was time to leave India.

Hello Central Asia.