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Friday, 18 December 2009 00:00 |
"Turn back or I'll arrest you!"
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I was near Chakrata, western Gharwal. My diary shows it was just before noon, in August 2004, when the infinitesimal laws of chaos began to take hold. At a junction, the map said the two roads would meet, so I chose to go left. I was riding alone on mountain roads, ‘rolling the contours’, not a care in the world, a man waved as I passed, a simple greeting, I waved back.
30 clicks more, not a soul in sight, then I saw it and understood. Not a greeting, a warning! The road was blocked. The mountain had reclaimed the road. A mud and rock slide to spoil your day. Motor off, I planted the bike, thoughts in overdrive, retrace or proceed? For 30 metres the road was covered and five men stood standing, as if waiting for me.
Paisa discussed, I unhooked the bike luggage. Mud on the move, no path and a serious drop, I to watched as they dragged ‘Number 5’ across. We shared a light moment and smoked my cigarettes, before I set-off again, shaken and stirred. |
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Read more about Riding The Forbidden Road
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Tuesday, 08 December 2009 05:45 |
"Touring Central Nepal With Elio From Italy"
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I met Elio soon after his arrival in Nepal in the evening 18th November at his hotel in Thamel. Introductions over, we arranged to meet the following day.
Before setting off on a tour - as always, we talked about the Bullet and I gave him a walk-around explaining the quirks and controls of the Royal Enfield motorcycle that would be his for the next week or so.
So, after a hearty Tibetan breakfast we set off around 10:00am. Elio was keen to video street scenes en-route but riding solo made it a difficult task!
We were soon going downhill on the main Prithvi Highway at 70kph! And with very little traffic Elio rode ahead, enjoying the wind in his face. After a few hours riding we stopped for lunch at a peaceful riverside resort half way to Pokhara.
It was here that I introduced Elio to Nepal’s favourite, dhal bhat, he liked it so much that he had two helpings! |
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Read more about Sherap and Elio Tour Central Nepal
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Sunday, 01 November 2009 16:39 |
"Join The Debate: Hitch-Hiking in Britain."
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Googling the other day, I found a letter I’d written in a debate about “hitch-hiking in Britain”, and remembered that I used to travel all over Britain ‘thumbing it’ to visit friends and generally explore.
Neil Stevenson puts his faith in the kindness of strangers when he tried to revisit the memories of his teens and hitch-hike in Britain. Have you ever hitch-hiked in Britain? Would you advise against it? Send us your view...
I live abroad now, but when I lived in England throughout the 80's and 90's I used to hitch-hike most weekends across the country to visit friends. The side of a cardboard box and a marker-pen for clear signs and I was often on my way within minutes. I felt a positive state of mind contributed to the success of the hike. Sometimes truckers who had carried me miles would flash other truck drivers and quickly get me transferred to another truck at a junction. And it's true, Eddie Stobart drivers do give lifts!
When I bought a car I would pick up hitch-hikers as often as possible - I never had any trouble.
Sign boards are the clue and forgive me for saying so, there's no excuse for being smelly. But I did have to camp in a field near Spaghetti Junction once in 1982. http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/travel/your_say/article551075.ece |
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Sunday, 13 September 2009 00:00 |
"Permits Permissions Persistence And Persuasion"
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Tell us about the ride, Blog it, post pictures, we want more than 140 characters once a week! I’ll try, but it’s not easy.
How’s the ride? Exciting, yes, between the hard-work, really tough, bone jarring sections of half built neglected highway. Pushing hard to get to the next stop, especially when you don't quite know what will greet you - luxury or a hovel, requires a mindset that focuses on nothing but the road ahead, fuel, bike welfare and the odd sustenance break.
This ride always was going to be tough, just to get to the start point, even then I wasn't sure how special the special bits would be. And I'm still not sure I've even reached that mythical start point. But I've come a long way, endless broken highways, challenges of endurance, night stop setbacks and a million other niggles all conspiring to drag me down. Lose heart now perhaps, but turn back… it’s not an option. |
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Read more about Trials And Tribulations in Assam
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Monday, 07 September 2009 00:00 |
"Arriving in Gorkhaland"
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Dead-straight highways for five days on end, hot dusty plains and towns too grubby for words; I looked up and there were the hills! Siliguri the first big town I reached in West Bengal marked the end of my Highway slog.
Cheered by the thought of the cool of the hills I stopped briefly at a row of small wooden shacks. I fought off hunger with samosas and chutney and a cup of sweet chai. “Hajur namaste dai…” I’d reached the fabled Gorkhaland.
Bolstered for the final 80 kilometers I kicked the hot motor back into life and together with a young student who’d paid for my snacks to secure a pillion seat home, set off for the hills to Darjeeling town.
Within minutes the road was carving the contours, criss-crossed at every bend in the road by the narrow tracks of the Darjeeling ‘toy train’; all around thick green jungle and trees tall as giants. |
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Read more about 5 Days Across The Plains
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Sunday, 06 September 2009 00:00 |
"Varanassi - Culture And Death On The Ganga"
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Sprawled along a bend on the river, Varanasi - one of the world's oldest inhabitted cities, for Hindus is the place to die. Since Lord Shiva walked down from Mt Kailash, the Ganges has been the most holy of rivers.
Mogul Kings to more recent Maharajas, all built their palaces overlooking the Ganga. Lamila, Munshi, ManMandir and Chausatti, each had its steps or ghats down to the water.
To the left and right along the river, where last rites are read, the Brahmin lights the fire and loved ones turn to ash. The burning ghats work all day and all night, living and dying a never ending cycle.
Behind the ghats lies a maze of narrow passages and lanes, lined with shops of every nature. Tailors and sweet shops, biri makers and samosa snack shops. Tiny and ancient and all crammed together.
And back to my guest house for peace and calm, overlooking the Ganga, my very own palace. |
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Saturday, 05 September 2009 00:00 |
"Paan Flavoured Chai On National Highway 2"
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Day 1 was tough but I made it to Kanpur, where a keen cycle rickshaw walla showed me the best hotel in town. He cycled, I followed, he got 20rps and I got a room for the night.
NH 2 is well paved and after Agra the traffic thinned. Two fatal accidents – men splurged on the black-top, had me utterly focused on staying alive, and then came the rain.
Day 2 easier but grey monsoon clouds and Varanasi still distant, drove me to cover; waterproofs I have, but the trucks throw up a foul muddy spray.
Spotting small shelter I parked the bike, a tiny Paan sellers hut on stilts. Its uplifted front held off most of the rain. When the ditch had fill-up, we were 4 or 5 more. The Paan walla served sweet Paan tea in clay cups and the rain came to pass, I was back on the road. |
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Saturday, 29 August 2009 11:41 |
"As A Child I Was Fascinated By Flying Machines..."
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As a child I’d always been fascinated with things that flew or sailed; engines, machines, electricity and things mechanical.
I studied, trained and worked in the aero-industry with Rolls-Royce in Bristol, SW England for 8 years, but Rolls-Royce was a place where one had to wait to fill a dead man’s shoes. I had more important things to get done. It was time to climb another rung of the ladder.
Postgraduate studies at Cranfield followed 7 years of sharp edged aeronautics - forecasting, statistics, mathematics, computers; I started all over again.
In the late 1980's Total Quality Management was the buzzword; my Cranfield Masters set me up for a series of jobs in the City of London, though Banking and Insurance, I was to discover, were not for me.
Late 1991, I quit my job, packed-up in London and headed north to my home town of Stamford in Lincolnshire. |
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Read more about A Little Bit About Me
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Friday, 28 August 2009 21:43 |
"Getting To Nowhere Fast!"
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| Sometimes I get the chance go on a long solo ride; weeks rather than days. With an interest to explore new regions and states I’ve yet not explored.
I plan routes into less developed regions, places less visited and usually off the major trucking routes I ride to places of historic, cultural, architectural, religious and geographical interest.
But it’s not always easy. It takes time and buckets of patience. Riding across large tracts of India often calls for several days of hard slog. It’s often quite hard to get to the brilliant bits.
Then the adventure starts by default, if it hadn’t the moment you kicked-off! How to get to your start point? Indian Railways is one way.
The largest rail network on earth, carries 18 million passengers and over 2 million tonnes of freight, through 6,909 stations, every day. The odd lost parcel is inevitable.
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Read more about Indian Motorcycles On Indian Railways
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Sunday, 23 August 2009 15:24 |
"It's Not Over Till The Fat Lady Sings!"
We returned back to Delhi adventures over, the ride done. We were all in one piece; the motorcycles intact and we were all satisfied that the route had taken us to some very beautiful places whilst commanding our very best riding skills.
Early tummy upsets - largely due to the heat of Delhi and India’s rich masala dishes, dampened our enthusiasm a little, but we pressed on and after a couple of days we were all back on form.
Riding with one guest rider is always a challenge and Mark remarked at the end that Sherap and I had cared for him excellently - yes he really used that word. The balance between keeping a watchful eye on a rider new to the quirks and dangers of Indian traffic and giving a free rein soon evened out and within a day or two Mark was happy to lead and ride on a few kilometres scouting the route ahead for us.
It’s not our style to ride in India-file all the way, leaders and followers in strict position. We don’t control our riders with radio sets, checking speed and progress all the time.
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Read more about Spiti Valley August 2009
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