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Published: December 15th 2006
Our mission in Islamabad was to get our Indian visa. Islamabad is a very strange city; it is completely planned and very green. There is relatively little noise (for a Pakistani city) and also very little soul to the place. We had planned to go to Peshawar whilst we waited for the Indian visas but ended up staying in Islamabad for the whole week. It’s a good place to totally relax and I was trying to get my MSR stove sorted out again!! Robin was recovering from his swollen ankle and then we both got stomach bugs! Still life under the trees in the campsite was nice and we met some other motor bikers and cyclists who were passing through.
We nervously returned to collect our passports from the Indian embassy. And eventually after a lot of patience and persuasion we got 6 month double entry visas and the next day set off in the train to Lahore. We bought our economy tickets and were told that there were no seats available. We found some seats and happily on the journey no one challenged us to say they were reserved for them. The journey was about one hour longer than
scheduled, but we were kept amused by a large family who were travelling to a wedding. This family contained many pretty young women and they decided to pass the time by painting their hands and arms with henna. The women painted my hand too and it was fun to see this done and have a very beautiful bit of art on my hand, if only for a few days before it washed off.
Back in Lahore to Regale Internet Inn, we discovered that a rat had eaten through one of my panniers (I had left some peanuts in there not thinking) and the bikes did not look too hot after almost a month of sitting on the roof. No bother we thought, we’ll do a bike service and patch up the pannier, it looks like we’ll have to stay one extra day. However just as we had finished servicing the bikes and were preparing to put back on our clean lubed chains the chain tool broke. This was really frustrating, always servicing the bikes takes longer than you imagine, but this meant that we could not use the bikes at all as they had no chains!
I trotted off
Pandit Ji
Everyone is welcome at the Golden Temple - this guy is a Hindu pandit although he did get shouted at for removing his turban before going for a dip in the holy water.to the bike bazaar to buy a new tool, however after ages of looking I was told, “No Madam this is a very sophisticated tool.”
“No it isn’t,” I replied.
“Yes madam, this sophisticated, in my country we use hammer!”
We were stuck. Luckily one of the young guys who worked at the hotel took me to a metal workshop. We had not thought of trying to get the tool repaired. This workshop was a wonderful place full of massive wrought iron presses and angle grinders. The culture of repair is so valuable here and we have totally lost it in our consumer oriented society at home. Once the old man had succeeded in cutting out the broken pin on our tool and re-gluing another pin, he showed me how good a repair man he was; he had repaired his own thumb! He had lost the digit some years ago and instead now had a metal tube with a one rupee coin cut for a finger nail and a two rupee used for the thumb pad, he had also made 5 more replacements ( just in case!). Our stop in Lahore turned into a few days since we were there
Guru Granth Sahib
Khalsa Sikh's parade their holy scripture from the golden Temple back to its nightime resting place. on a Thursday and had to go back to Sufi night, except this time I was fully well and able to enjoy the wonderful drumming.
After 2 months of not cycling we set off towards the border, our aim Amritsar. We were 6 days overstayed on our visa. We were not too worried about our visa as we had a few excuses lined up and we could in theory get a 3 month extension in Pakistan for free. The border guys did not even notice on Robin’s passport how long we had been there and then the guy asked me how long I had been in Pakistan I said three months and we were stamped out. We then had our first ever baggage search leaving Pakistan, so we were quite some time at the border. The border itself was very weird. There is only one gateway. Not many vehicles actually pass this border, the history of antagonism between the two countries is most keenly felt here and there is no international freight. Cruelly this means that any cargo that is crossing the border has to be portered to the actual gate by leagues of men, and then thrown over
the line to the waiting porters who take it to the trucks on the other side. On the day we were there hundreds of men were carrying huge sacks of onions on their heads to the border.
The ride to Amritsar was good; the road was much better than the one in Pakistan. We passed endless flat fields on the fertile Punjab plain but the going was quite easy. Arriving into the city however it all got a bit crazy. We were aware now that there are just so many more people here and the traffic was very busy. The only way to deal with this is to pedal faster. We joined hundreds of other local cyclists and cycle rickshaws and madly forced our way over roundabouts and junctions eventually arriving at the Golden Temple in the heart of the old city in Amritsar. We knew there was a foreigner dorm at the Golden Temple which could house us for free so made our way there, through the thousands of other pilgrims. The temple hostel was free, we found a room and locked up our bikes and bags in a locker then made it to the “Langar”, the free
Langar
Some of the army of volunteers helping to peel and chop garlic for the Langar or community kitchen at the Golden Temple, Amritsar. kitchen, to be fed mounds of daal(lentils) and bread.
The Golden Temple is the heart of the Sikh religion, Guru Nanak the founder realised that no-one could absorb religious philosophy on an empty stomach and set up the free kitchen system. The whole thing is very impressive, 50 000 pilgrims are fed everyday by an army of volunteers and it is all based on donations. We lined up with everyone else and were issued a plate, bowl and spoon. We sat in lines on the floor and men with buckets of lentils went along scooping out our food, after you are finished they wash down the lines on the floor and in come the next crowd.
The Golden Temple itself is entirely lovely. It is set in the middle of a sacred tank and the atmosphere there is truly peaceful, even with thousands of people. The Sikh religion is a monotheistic blend of Hinduism and Islam and many believe Guru Nanak himself to have been a great Sufi master. The Temple resounds with the devotional singing characteristic of the religion, which sounds not unlike the Qawwali we had heard in Lahore. The place is really beautiful at all
times of day with the changing light making you see different things in the wonderfully ornate temple and marble buildings that surround it.
We decided to return to the border to see the famous border closing ceremony and managed successfully to find the bus station and get a bus back the 30 km we had cycled the day before. Unfortunately whilst in the terrible crush of excited people Robin’s pocket was picked and he lost his wallet. This put a terrible dampener on our feelings and spoilt the show a bit. Crowds on either side jeer on their soldiers and there is much pomp and show and foot stamping and it really is all a bit Monty Python. The crowds on the Indian side far out number those on the Pakistani side but the Pakis more than make up for this by going crazy and chanting loudly the whole time. Robin was in a pretty foul mood after being robbed and viewed the whole thing with contempt. Admittedly the costumes and actions of the soldiers are quite amusing if you are in the right mood, but what exactly are all these crowds cheering? The partition of India and Pakistan
Tyranny of the British
Memorial in Jalianwala Bagh, Amritsar, where the British army opened fire on 2,000 unarmed civilians, killing or wounding over 1500 with only 1600 rounds of ammunition.
"But we gave them railways you know!!" killed over a million people in sectarian violence in the space of weeks, as Hindus and Sikhs going one way butchered Muslims going the other and vice versa. It seemed sad that these people are so divided as the crowds on both sides of the border are the same people, they speak the same language, have the same culture. They are only separated by religion and flag. One side chants “Pakistan - Zinabag” and the Indians chant back “Hindustan Zindabag!” Crazy.
After the ceremony we tried to report the theft to the police in the hope that if they found the wallet discarded Robin might get back some of his cards. However policeman after policeman lied to us saying, just 1 km more, and eventually we realised there was no police station or no one there to help. By this time it was well dark and we got a bus back to Amritsar, to try to cancel the cards. We decided to stay the next day to relax after the stressful theft and spent time in the temple itself and at the interesting Sikh museum.
We also went to the memorial Jalianwala Bagh/Garden, the scene of one of
Jalianwala Bagh
2 of the bullets that missed. Soldiers were ordered to turn and fire at people trying to escape over the walls. the worst massacres in the history of British Indian Empire. The British soldiers gunned down hundreds of unarmed Indians and the event sparked a fire in the hearts of the Indian people that eventually led to their freedom from oppression and independence.
The day we planed to leave we woke up feeling not exactly bouncy, and Robin says he doesn’t feel well. We realised he had a temperature and he rested in bed for the day. The next day his temperature went away but he had the runs quite badly and did not sleep at all that night. It was during the night that he realised that he was being bitten and in the morning we both realised that we had bed bugs. It was time to move. Robin was quite ill with Giardia (a protozoa parasite) and he needed a little luxury. I went round a few hotels and discovered that Amritsar is not that cheap a place. We eventually found a good deal in a midrange hotel and decamped from the temple, telling the staff about the bed bugs as we left. Once in our new hotel we enjoyed the hot shower and I washed everything that
Jungle!
On the way up the Kangra 'valley' had been in contact with the infested beds. Bed bugs are actually about 2 mm big and apparently die if they do not feed for a week. The bites for us anyway did not start to irritate until a few days later so by the time we actually moved we were covered in them and then the next day they drove us mad. We rested for about 5days in Amritsar, Robin slowly recovering, although not eating much at all. He had a comfy bed and a TV with remote control so was as happy as could be expected.
Amritsar seems to be a well off city, in fact Punjab is one of the most affluent Indian states, and many Punjabis live abroad. The city seemed a bit cleaner than we had expected and the internet connections were much better than the crappy ones in Pakistan. Certainly there were more tourists here than we had seen since Egypt, every shop I walked past offered to sell me toilet paper!
When we left to cycle north to Pathankot the Punjab plain had a weird winter fog on it. Progress was quite fast, the road was flat and good but I
Tibetan Politics
Poster in Dharamsala tp protest the visit of the Chinese president to India. got really tired by the end of the day (about 110 km) and realised on the cycle that I too had picked up Giardia and Robin after being weakened by the stomach problems had got a chest infection. We rested for 3 nights in the hotel in Pathankot, ill again but happy to have made at least a small amount of progress.
Finally we set out towards the hills leaving Punjab and entering Himachal Pradesh, we were heading to Dharamsala, the home of the Dalai Lama. The road followed the “Kangra Valley”, except it’s not a valley at all and we constantly climbed and fell crossing many side valleys. The scenery however was wonderful. Jungley trees rose tall beside us and the sun was fantastic. Huge vultures soared overhead, mongoose and monkeys ran along the road sides. We were really happy but the going was very slow especially for Robin whose lungs complained horribly on all the uphills. We decided to call it a day at about 2 pm. We had done 50 km and had reached Tri Lok Pur. This is a local tourist place, good for picnics and coffees with a few restaurant and rooms available. There
is a waterfall and an ancient cave temple to Shiva. We were later to realise that, in the mountains anyway, all important temples have a good smattering of hotels or places to stay by them, making cycling very easy as you can stop when you need to. We got quite a basic room and ate some chow mien which was a nice change from Indian food. The cave temple itself was very lovely; there were stalactites and a small image of Shiva’s Linga inside. Outside facing the temple in amongst the river stones there was a large rock chiselled into the shape of Nandi, Shiva’s bull. This was our first visit to a Hindu temple and the Pandit (temple priest) was a very smiley nice guy. The setting of the place was wonderful and Rhesus Macaque monkeys climbed all over the rocks and cliffs around. We got an early night.
The cycle the next day was in beautiful sunshine, but the road kept going up and down hills and we had to make frequent stops for Robin to get his breath; he was really struggling with his cold. On the stops however we saw many new birds and high
Anyone for tea?
Not ready for drinking yet though... in the jungle clad hills we cycled past a group of Hanuman Langurs. These natural wonders make us smile with joy, these monkeys are larger and wiser looking than the cheeky Rhesus Macaques which we were used to in the towns.
At a junction in the road we were advised that both roads went to Dharamsala but that one was steep and 15 km the other better and 21 km, we chose the longer route. Unfortunately the road continued flat for a while and then we turned off it to go straight up about 800m in 10 km. It was really tough. If we had been fit this would possibly be the best road to take; it had no traffic and was quiet with lots of new weird birds flying overhead. We plodded on, but it took all day to get to Dharamsala and by then any thought of pressing on to the touristier McLeod Ganj, another 500m climb, was pushed aside. We arrived exhausted pushing our bikes on a cloudy cold day. We found a big room with TV and hot water for 200 rupees and collapsed. We feasted on Tibetan dumplings, Mu mu’s, and soup for a
late lunch and enjoyed pizza for the evening. Our stomachs were not feeling up to Indian cooking. It was nice to have the choice of Tibetan food and touristy food too.
It had been a tiring and illness ridden start back into the cycling but it was good to realise that even going small 50 km distances each day can be great fun and the scenery in this state is really rewarding where ever you go it seems.
Robin: After a slow, cold and grueling climb up into the forests the previous day we had a well earned lie-in on our first morning. My chest was still feeling it with a heavy cold, but at least the sun was out today so it was a fair bit warmer. And also you could see the view, outside our window was an amazing vista across the town to the steeply rising forested hills behind it, and behind them the higher ranges of the Himachal Himalaya, clad in snow already. Immediately outside the bazaar was already busy but with many different faces; there were few Sikh turbans on display here, many of the people had paler, rounder faces suggesting a mix
between Indian and Chinese features - these are the local Himachalis. And then there were a lot of shaven headed, red-robed Tibetan monks and nuns in the crowds too.
After a hot shower (well a trickle) and a slow breakfast we ventured out into the sun. I had half imagined that things would be cleaner and nicer up in the hills, and in the smaller villages they seemed to be, but not here. The town of lower Dharamsala contained the same variety of filth in the streets as the rest of what we had seen of India. Packs of dogs roamed the streets along with the cows, and troops of monkeys clambered all over the buildings. Despite supposedly also being sacred animals the shopkeepers are pretty quick to chase away any monkeys getting too near their produce.
We decided to walk up the hill to McLeod Ganj, the higher part of the town that is home to the Dalai Lama and a few thousand other Tibetan refugees. The road felt even steeper than the one we had cycled up yesterday, with sharp hairpins twisting up through the forest, and it wasn’t far before I was stopped gasping for
"Just like Scotland"
The Himalaya and jungle from Dharamsala, as described by locals. breath. It took us hours to make the 2-3km walk up to McLeod Ganj, as we kept being distracted by the amazing views and even more incredible wildlife. As well as monkeys and mongooses, dozens of different kinds of brightly coloured birds flashed through the trees, giving us plenty of excuses for rest stops to watch them. By now we had found a small path through the trees which took us past a Tibetan monastery and there were several monks sat in sunny clearings on the steep slopes, meditating while beautiful birds and butterflies flitted by, and the snowy Himalaya loomed overhead. It truly did feel very peaceful and spiritual, and I felt better than I had for days.
Unfortunately after a few hundred metres the path arrived abruptly in McLeod Ganj and the serenity was shattered; noise, crowds, filth and the biggest tourist trap I had seen since Luxor, which was a long time ago. The narrow lanes are full of shops and shacks selling all manner of Tibetan and Indian souvenirs, clothing, jewellery, shawls, incense sticks, you name it. And the streets are not only full of beggars but foreigners, other backpackers. Again I should have expected
Nandi
At Baijnath Shiva Temple this I suppose, but it still feels very weird to see so many other travellers in one place after being in Iran and Pakistan for so long, where they are fairly thin on the ground. We have a quick walk around but are put off by our first impression of what is really a huge tourist bazaar. The shops are full of books on spiritualism, Buddhism, meditation etc. and it feels like being in a hippy shop or a festival stall back in Europe somewhere. It’s the same stuff on sale here, but of course, because most of it comes from here in the first place. The faces of the other travellers also remind me of the same thing-lots of hippie-style clothing, long hair and dreadlocks around. Then I realise someone else up the street is probably having the same reaction and including me in their analysis. I just can’t help feeling its all a bit weird - the clothing and culture being sold and bought here doesn’t really seem Indian, I don’t see any local people wearing this stuff. Rather it is a small part of Indian culture adopted by westerners back in the 60’s and then exported west,
Kali Mata
At Baijnath Shiva Temple. The Goddess of Destruction,complete with necklaceof human skulls. only to now be exported back to India to be sold to a western only audience. Maybe.
Anyway it starts to get dark so we wander back down the road to town and I am more than happy to eat a very western pizza for dinner as my guts still don’t feel up to daal and curry.
We end up staying in Dharamsla for 4 days as the weather is good, the mountains and forests very soothing and there is no point to try and cycle again until my lungs have improved. My view on Mcleod Ganj softens and we spend a couple of afternoons wandering around to check out the Tibetan monasteries and temples with their amazing Mandalas and prayer wheels. They are also very peaceful places. We watch ancient looking, crumpled-up old Tibetan men and women shuffling around muttering prayers and mantras and then looking surprisingly nimble as they repeatedly prostrate themselves on prayer boards. Their faces are burned dark brown from years in the sun and the thin, high-altitude air and are creased by deep wrinkles when they smile broadly. They have a bizarre range of hats, the older men seeming to prefer an old-fashioned style
Hanuman
At a roadside temple, holding up the mountain and keeping the road open. of bowler hat which I had never imagined to be something Tibetan.
We visit the Tibetan Museum and learn about the Chinese invasion and occupation, with detailed accounts of human rights abuses right up to the present day. Beside the spiritual element there is an obvious political current in the town with lots of posters up about the plight of the Panchen Lama, kidnapped by the Chinese govt. when he was only 6 years old. In the museum and elsewhere there are numerous notices up about the hopes and visions of the Dalai Lama for the future of Tibet, which paint a very hopeful and optimistic picture of an independent, or at least highly autonomous, democratic Tibet governed by the Tibetans, living side-by-side with China. I can understand the need for the exiled population to live in hope, but can’t really see it myself. The rest of the world has never really spoken up for Tibet in the past, and isn’t likely to do so now or in the future. Instead the world powers are jostling with each other to do business with China, the next superpower. Even as we were here the Chinese President was visiting India as
Not Hanuman
A banana theif. This is a Rhesus Mcaque monkey, common in towns and totally fearless. the two countries try to forge bigger and stronger trade links with each other. India is home to the Tibetan Government-in-Exile and the majority of Tibetan refugees, and has strong spiritual and religious links with Tibet, but business comes first here as in the rest of world.
Mostly we just go for walks in the forests and tea plantations, enjoying the cool, clean air and mountain views. I buy some Tibetan stickers for my bike in the hope that I may yet manage to cycle into Tibet, but make a point of not buying anything else from the bazaar in McLeod Ganj. After a few days my chest is much improved, we are rested and decide to push south east through the hills towards Chandigargh and Delhi.
The morning we leave Dharamsala it is hazy and cold. We put on gloves and hats for a long downhill but it never really arrives. Instead the road is going east, traversing the foothills and dropping steeply down into river valleys running south towards the plains, before climbing steeply back up the other side. The cool weather is nice though and stops us overheating on the climbs, and the forest and
Mandi
Temples and the river. wildlife give plenty of distractions and reasons for stops. Our progress is still fairly slow going, partly because of the bumpy road and the hills, and partly because I am still not on full power. Erika hits a small stone with her back wheel - the sort that would usually go pinging out across the road, but this one shreds her new (Indian) tyre and rips the inner tube, causing an instant blow-out. We change the tube but decide to try the tyre again - there is a small tear but larger weak patch of rubber. It holds but probably not for long. We stop for a lunch of aloo-mutter (potato and pea curry) and rice in the next town. We had hoped to be 30km further on than this in Baijnath for lunch, where there is an ancient Shiva temple.
Curry powered we press on and the road becomes much easier, going gently downhill through forests and terraced agricultural fields for most of the way to Baijnath, which we quickly reach. We stop here overlooking the wide mountain river for a while. There are small Hindu temples at various points on both river banks, with steep steps cut
Room with a view
The worst room in India, but probably the best view. In the hills on the way to Chandigargh from Mandi. down to the river below. On a large island in the middle of the river a Sadhu has set up camp and looks like he is slowly building another temple on the spot. We stop to look at the old temple up in the town. It is the first old Hindu temple we have seen and the carving and style of the building is totally different. It looks like pictures I have seen of Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Inside is a statue of Shiva and his sacred Linga, facing the door outside is a life-size carving of Nandi the bull, the vehicle of Shiva. As far as I have learnt Shiva is one of the 3 principal Hindu gods, and the most powerful in terms of creative and destructive force. He lives on Mount Kailash in western Tibet, has long matted hair and smokes copious quantities of ganja. Along the road we had seen several Sadhus with long dreadlocks carrying the trident of Shiva, it seems every cave and river in this region has some connection with this powerful God.
We set off from Baijnath towards the next town thinking there was plenty of time to get there before
Kurukshetra temples and tank
This is the smaller tank nearby to Brahma Sarovar. dark. The road climbed out of town and then just kept climbing for the next 10km or so. It was an amazing road winding through pine forest on the edge of an enormous steep drop down to lower hills below and we could look out across rows of green, forested hills stretching away until they merged with the distant plains of Punjab. We reached the top and paused for another rest, and a Tibetan monk appeared on a motorbike and sat in the sun meditating a few metres away. Eventually we crawled into Jogindernagar just as it was getting really dark, and Erika’s rear tyre finally collapsed. Fortunately there was a good, cheap hotel just around the corner.
The next day it was cloudy and cooler, and the guy in the hotel informed us there was still plenty of uphill to go before we dropped down to Mandi. With our legs still suffering from yesterday we began to forget any hope of getting beyond Mandi, as planned. The road did indeed carry on up and up and after around 3 hours of slow grinding we had traveled an amazing 20km or so and arrived at a height greater than
Baba Ji
A Sadhu bathes his feet in the sacred Brahma Sarovar, Kurukshetra. Dharamsala. We had naively assumed the road back towards the plains would be easy and mostly downhill, how stupid. After a rest to admire the view over the steep valleys and terraced fields below us we set off on a long downhill at last, all the way to Mandi. It was mid afternoon when we arrived in the town, built around the confluence of 2 rivers. The point where the rivers join is home to many old-style temples and an old suspension bridge across the river, and we quickly decided we wanted to stay to look around. We checked into Hotel Shiva and set off to see the temples. Taking a shortcut through the narrow lanes of the old town we found scores of tiny temples everywhere and then got caught up in a procession. The effigies of some god(s) or other were being carried from one temple to another (at least I think this is what was going on, nobody could really explain it) with much fanfare, drums and some enormous and loud trumpets. It was very slow precession as the gods and their bearers had to stop to pay respect to the gods in each other temple they
passed on the way, and there was one of these every 10 metres or so.
Mandi was a really nice place, quiet and peaceful and with really impressive old temples. I had heard stories about how the temple priests in India try and extort huge ‘donations’ from tourists but nobody had bothered us at all at any of the temples we had visited. Perhaps because there were no other tourists around and I doubt many ever stop in places like Baijnath or Mandi, which are barely mentioned in the guidebooks. We felt drained and tired the next day so decided to stop and rest and wander around the temples and bazaar some more. We saw no other foreigners, nobody was hassling us to visit their shop, and food and chai were costing normal, local prices.
From Mandi it was an easy 2 days to Chandigargh, according to the map we had. Again we thought it must be finally downhill, now we are really heading back out to the plains. The night before it had rained heavily but there was clear sky in the morning, so we set off hopefully thinking we could get well beyond Chandigargh towards Delhi in the next 2 days. The road from Mandi followed a wide river valley at first and the road surface was excellent, so we were making good progress. The sky got greyer and eventually it began to rain. We stopped in a small town to shelter under shop fronts and put on jackets, before setting off again. Now it was uphill and it was raining, and things were not looking so good. But suddenly the road leveled out and the sun broke through, and we plunged down and down on a fantastic road weaving down a steep valley through patches of forest and cleared slopes. Further down the valley widened out to reveal a dam and a huge power plant that looked very out of place in this landscape. At some point around here we notched up 12,000 miles (c. 20,000km) although we didn’t realize this until later on.
We stopped for bananas in a small village next to bridge over a river in a steep gorge, and a squad of monkeys appeared trying to steal our bananas. Even when I gave a big male one the skins he still made attempts to grab the bag of bananas, aggressively baring his teeth towards me. I did the same back and copied his noises and he shot off to cower behind a wall, much to the amusement of the Indians watching the whole thing.
We had been making good progress even though the road was still a lot of ups and downs, and reached Bilaspur for a late lunch. While eating more aloo mutter in a ramshackle roadside Dhaba it rained properly - an absolute downpour. Fortunately our seats were under a good part of the tarpaulin roof. We sat drinking several cups of sweet milky chai after our food, hoping the rain would soon stop. It did but it was still too early to stop in Bilaspur so we set off back into the hills thinking there would be plenty of roadside hotels. So far since we had been in the mountains there had been 2-3 cheap hotels every 10-15km, usually clustered around a temple, river or viewpoint (most rivers and view points seem to have a small temple anyway - the gods definitely have the best real estate in India), so we figured we could easily find a place to sleep whenever we got tired. From Bilaspur the road skirts around the edge of an enormous lake/dam so we also thought it would be flat. We spent the rest of the afternoon climbing slowly higher and higher, with occasional views back to the deep blue lake far below. We got an absolute soaking from another downpour but were forced to cycle on looking for a place to stay as it was getting late.
Finally the road dropped down and we flew down a huge descent back to the lake shore and a small village, but no hotel. The road climbed out of the village back into the forest. After about another 10km of steep ascent I was exhausted and it was going dark. We stopped to ask how far the next town was, or if there was a hotel nearby. I was pleased to hear there was a hotel in 1km and began to push the bike uphill in the dark with trucks rumbling past inches away coating us in spray and fumes. Well over 1km later there was still no hotel and the road was still climbing, we were wet and freezing. Finally we spied some buildings ahead but dared not to hope they were hotels - they were. Sadly they were not so cheap or nice. The cheaper one was run by a very fat Punjabi woman who was very funny but drove a very hard bargain and was prepared to slander her neighbor all night long in an attempt to gain our business. We paid the same price for a cold concrete room that was unfinished and had no bathroom and barely any electricity as we had previously paid for nice clean rooms with furniture, TV and bathroom, but didn’t really care by this point. She described it as ‘very homely’ - yes if you normally live in a concrete bunker! Her food was also a bit pricey but it was top quality home cooking and the portions were huge, so she was a good advert for her food. Having secured some extra blankets for free we slept surprisingly well.
In the morning I could at least see how she could get away with her room charges - the view from the balcony (no railing or wall on it mind) was incredible across sharp ridges of forested hills rising out of a sea of low white clouds above the lake. We realized the big town we could see not very far away was Bilaspur and that we had taken the most amazing round route to get here the previous afternoon. After a late breakfast we set off up the last 3km of climb to the top, from where the hazy plains of Punjab and Haryana spread out far below. Now it was finally downhill all the way at last. We stopped at a small roadside temple to sit and admire the view, and thank the Gods, but it was still being built and there were no gods living there yet. The Pandit appeared from behind some bushes and said hello, then came to sit by us and flare up his chillum. Thus refreshed we sped down and down on an excellent road and it felt great to be alive. The sun was shining again and all was well. And before we knew it we were back down in the plains, the vegetation and the birds changed and the numbers of people and traffic increased massively.
After a fairly uneventful afternoon of powering it along the flat highway we reached Chandigargh. This is a purpose built city, designed and constructed in one-go after partition to be the new state capital of Punjab and Haryana, as Lahore had found itself on the Pakistani side of the border. We had heard it is not like any other Indian city and it had been compared to Milton Keynes. It was certainly a surprise - wide, tree-lined roads, smart residential housing estates that look like some 1960’s development back in Britain, and shopping malls in the centre that also could be any British city. There were no cows, no street-stalls, no hawkers and no piles of rubbish everywhere. There were even cycle lanes for bicycles and rickshaws. It felt kind of false. It is also a very pricey place - we couldn’t find any hotel for less than 600 rupees and this was no better than other places we had stayed in for 200-300. The comparison to Milton Keynes is pretty accurate, although it is a much more completed city than Islamabad and is full of people who regard it as home, it still felt rather soulless compared to other places. The layout of the roads, shopping centres and parking areas almost exactly mirrors the centre of Milton Keynes. We weren’t tempted to stay.
Chandigargh also had hundreds of roundabouts - a rare thing in India so far. Sadly none of the drivers seemed to know how to use them as we discovered on our way out of the city the next morning. Complete chaos at each and every one, and then finally a huge jam of jostling cars, bikes and rickshaws, in which I was nearly knocked off by an idiot in a huge 4x4. In fact the only reason I didn’t come off was because a rickshaw was only an inch the other side of me and I landed on it. The 4x4driver looked pretty surprised when I yelled and banged on his bonnet - I gather car drivers view cyclists as a lower form of life here that can be bullied or even rammed out of the way if necessary. When we finally got through we found the source of the jam was a smashed up wreck of a car facing the wrong way on the roundabout……
Once out of the city things calmed down a bit but we were cycling along the Grand Trunk road - India’s main road linking Calcutta to Delhi and then Amritsar and running all the way to Kabul in Afghanistan. The traffic is busy but mostly the road is dual carriageway with a side strip so we can ride safely off the side on a good surface and make good progress. Erika gets a puncture and I have to double back several km as I did not see it and have sped on thinking she is following behind. This holds us up a lot and then we kind of miss lunch, deciding to go a bit further and a bit further until it is late afternoon. Erika gets another slow puncture and we are starving, so we decide to turn off into Kurukshetra to look for a hotel.
Our guidebook barely mentions Kurukshetra, saying only that it has the largest tank in India. We decide to check this out as we have some time to spare before dark after checking into Hotel Krishna. The tank is enormous and some tourist info leaflet tells us that Kurukshetra is the site from which Brahma created the universe, and that he even laid down the plans for this tank as part of the original creation (though seemingly left the hard work of excavating it to a much later Aryan king called Kuru). This is therefore one of the holiest places in India, and the tank was surrounded by Sadhu baba’s, many of whom seemed to have setup semi-permanent homes under the alcoved archways surrounding the tank. The epic battle of the Mahabarata was fought near Kurukshetra and Krishna sang the Bhagavad Gita here. After walking part of the way around the tank we headed back for a shower and were accompanied by some local students who were very keen to practice their English. They were really funny, describing themselves as “true Indians, strict vegetarians” and told us we were the first foreigners they had ever met, which tells you how many travellers stop in Kurukshetra. We ate very cheaply again that night, local prices no problem. Its strange but in places like this it is like being back in Pakistan - people are so happy and excited to see a foreigner they just want to genuinely talk to you rather than try to rip you off or overcharge you. Although of course the food is much better than in Pakistan - much more variety and slightly less heavy on the ghee and chili.
In the morning we went back to the enormous tank, the Brahma Sarovar, before setting off. It was so peaceful and nice in the early morning light that we decided to stay and look around the rest of Kurukshetra. We checked out of Hotel Krishna as it was too pricey for the quality, and attempted to find a place mentioned in the book that might have cheap camping. By complete error we were instead directed to a temple complex, and when they eventually understood we wanted to camp they said no and directed us to expensive hotels. We asked about staying there and then they decide, “yes of course”. The temple had a pilgrim hostel and here we get huge, simple but clean room with 2 charpoys for 50 rupees. The hostel is mostly full of schoolgirl athletes from all different states of India here for some interstate competition. They excitedly question Erika about all sorts of things before running way in fits of giggles when she tells them I am her husband and we have a love marriage. We spend most of the day back at the Brahma Sarovar resting and relaxing in the sun and watching the life and rituals of the Sadhu’s living there.
In the afternoon we cycle out of the town to the site where Krishna sang the Bhagavad Gita, also home to a temple and tank complex with ancient Banyan trees surrounding the tank and growing up through the marble precincts of the temples. One of these trees is said to be so ancient it was witness to Krishna and the battles of the Mahabarata. It is a really peaceful place and we sit and watch the sunset while waterbirds and kingfishes swoop across the tank and lake. We make a mental note to check out any other interesting looking places that only get a one line mention in the guidebooks. Here we are at one of the most sacred places in India and there are no tourists, no tourist touts, no tourist bazaar or anything. No foreigners ever come here, because the books don’t tell them to.
I am woken early before dawn by loud music and the sound of all the other pilgrims getting up to perform puja in the temple before dawn. It sounds like the Golden Temple back in Amritsar-there was the same pre-dawn commotion there. We have an early breakfast and get going back onto the Grand Trunk Road, hoping to get all the way to Delhi in one go even though it is still 100 miles away. The road is flat though, it misses most big towns and is really fast to cycle on so we make fast progress, especially as the temperature has dropped so we can power along and stay cool. The day is puncture free and fairly uneventful. We stop for lunch at 1pm with only 70km left to reach Delhi and feeling good. Our illnesses are well behind us and we have found our cycling legs again. We soon reach the northern suburbs and outskirts of Delhi. It is mostly still fields but there is a lot of construction going on, entire new Chandigargh style mini-towns are being built along with business parks, industrial parks and enormous American style shopping malls and multiplexes. On the news the other day it was announced Walmart will soon be opening a chain of super-markets across India. I’m sure there will be one here somewhere.
Further in things get more dusty and dirty and the real city begins. It is still 20-30km into the centre and we stop for a rest and some chai sitting on the side of the road to psyche ourselves up for the madness ahead. It looks simple enough on the map. The road gets wider but it is now rush hour and there are huge jams at each junction. Usually we can cut through these, weaving between lanes or just going up the inside to the front of each queue, but not in India. There are no lanes. Everyone is trying to gain an inch on everyone else and there are so many bicycles, mopeds, motorbikes and rickshaws that there is no space anywhere. I am aware of the dust and fumes and my chest is starting to hurt again. I begin to think this is pretty crazy and what are we doing here, when I look up and see the most amazing sight. Ahead is a huge elephant with 2 guys on top, stately and calmly plodding along the inside of a 4-5 lane crazed highway, with small bells tinkling away as it swings from side to side with each huge step. I am mesmerized by it and start to smile and then laugh out loud.
As we get further in the traffic eases and it becomes a bit cleaner again. We stop to check directions and then get sent the wrong way, something we only discover some time later when we unexpectedly find a metro station where there should not be one. It is also going dark now. We try to make our way back to where we should be but end up getting hopelessly lost and stuck in narrow, congested streets in a huge bustling bazaar area of the old city. It is a total gridlock of cycles, cycle-rickshaws, 2-wheelers (Indian for a moped or motorbike) and ridiculously over laden handcarts. It takes us nearly an hour to push and barge our way about 2 blocks until we emerge back onto a street where we can attempt to cycle. Then we enter the Pahar Ganj area - Delhi’s answer to Mcleod Ganj but 50 times worse. It is the tourist bazaar and area full of tourist/backpacker hotels. Everyone here is a tout, drug-dealer or con-man, most all 3 at once and that’s just the rickshaw drivers. While trying to fend off the touts and beggars, and find a hotel by ourselves without having to pay a commission, we are recognized by some online fans for the first time. They are really nice cool people although we are so tired and in bad mood from the vibes of this place that we are not very sociable. We check into hotel eventually at 8.30pm having been in the city for 3 hours or so, have a hot shower, a huge feed and collapse. We have done 107miles today and equaled our record from the Baluch desert. I am still not sure which was more challenging - 107miles of harsh, hot desert or or cycling into Delhi!
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Pohanginapete
non-member comment
Happy New Year
Hi, or should I say, "Kia ora," Erika and Robin. For me it really was a happy New Year, thanks in large part to being able to share some of it with you. I'm looking forward to the time to be able to sit and read your blog at leisure; having skimmed this entry, and knowing what I do of your travels, it'll be a great read. Excellent photos too. Cheers, safe travels, and I hope we can catch up somewhere before too long. Pete :^D