Day 11 - Marge! Marge! The rains are ‘ere!
We awaken to a steady storm that seemed as if it had raged all night. The monsoon season had really sunk its teeth in and it looked to be a very sodden day ahead. We assemble downstairs with the rest of the convoy and load the rickshaws up. We decide to wait for breakfast to be served. That was a mistake as the offerings were worse than usual. We quickly downed what we could from the buffet and set off hungry and annoyed that we had waited around for so long. We had picked our town to meet in for the night called Beed so we bid farewell to our companions for the day and took off.
Less than a couple of minutes into the drive we really began to see how much rain had fallen overnight. The city of Solapur was half underwater. As we were about to leave the city limits we met our first giant puddle. This was new territory for us. Ralph had once watched a 4WDing show at home so he was quick with some words of wisdom on how to cross this mini lake. I was just pumped to hit the water with as much speed as Ricky would give us. We come to a halt just before the pond. Some last second instructions were given. I was in the driver’s seat and I must admit most of what he said just went in one ear and out the other. I believe the advice was to the effect of “keep it steady”. What happened next was the exact opposite of that. I ripped Ricky from first, quickly into second then finally into third. We hit the edge of the water at some serious speed. So quickly in fact that the water washed all the way over the front of the windscreen and over the roof. We may as well have been in a car wash. The blood rushed to our heads so we all started cheering like this was the best thing that had ever happened to us. This was until we started to rapidly slow down and sputter to a stop. Fuck. All we could think was a flooded engine and carburetor. If that were to be the case it would mean for us to firstly having to locate the carburetor, take it out, take it apart and let it dry. Not something that we were overly proficient at. The covers were down in a flash and my trusty crew pushed Ricky out of the flood to dry land. We gave him a minute to recover from almost drowning. A torrent of relief flooded over us when he started back up first pull. A few big revs in neutral and we were back to normal so we pressed on. Shortly down the road we encounter Chicken Stew who had appeared to be broken down. We had spotted a petrol station around 200m back. Luckily we had packed a 40m length of rope acquired from underneath the Connon household. We strapped Chicken Stew to Ricky Ponting by the roof racks and let the tow begin. Ralph was especially excited that he got the honours of towing. We slowly guided both rickshaws into the backside of the Indian Oil. The usual inquisitive crowd of locals took their places around us. The back of Chicken Stew is opened up and Rory gives it a rip to try and see what the problem is. First go the engine fires up and she is right as rain. We detach from each other and pull Google Maps out to try and see what lay ahead of us. Given the driving conditions it was decided that we would take “the quick road” which cut right through the middle and directly to Beed where we would be bunking down for the night. In hindsight it was quite fortuitous that we towed Chicken Stew back to the petrol station as taking on the next part of the journey alone would have seemed like summiting Everest without shoes.
Off we go quietly content that an alternate route that was going to shave off kilometres had been found. It turned out that this backroad like every other backroad that we had found ourselves on over the past week was a complete piece of shit. Gauging the depth of the puddles ahead was next to impossible so a steady pace of 20kph was set. Chicken Stew got stuck in the mud and nearly tipped. I almost followed into the same trap. We hauled them out and then got a glimpse of what was ahead. The road for the next 50 metres or so was completely submerged. We lined the rickshaws up and talked tactics. Some more advice from the 4x4 show was issued which again fell on deaf ears. Mitch and Will waded out into the knee deep water and stood either side of the non existent road ready to push if they got stuck or their engine cut out. I was left to wait behind. They Chicken Stew the green light so they took off. I saw this as my opportunity to also follow through. I saw the boys up ahead with both palms raised yelling something. All I could think was beauty they must be calling me through and guiding the way between them. I gun it and promptly get stuck, then engine quickly follows suit and cuts out. With all the covers up on the rickshaw hearing anything but the engine is pretty much impossible. Upon coming to a halt between Mitch and Will I was quickly and severely berated. Apparently the 4x4 advice that had been issued before I took off (and which i didn’t listen to) included the strict instructions of “wait until Chicken Stew is out before you take off”. On top of that what I thought was the boys guiding me through was actually them screaming for me to stop. All three of us pushed Ricky to solid ground where the lectures on listening to instructions continued. Soon after I was issued a yellow card for incompetence however I was not taken out of the driver’s seat which was a tad risky on their part. We continued on to find more puddles that seemed to be getting infinity deeper. That was until we cruised up to the granddaddy of them all. What would normally have been a little babbling brook had broken its banks and turned into a raging river. We could see the rickshaw, all our gear and the $1800 deposit being swept away if this wasn’t done right. Before we knew it Chicken Stew upped the revs and just went for it. I believe Mitch screamed “don’t you even dare” from the back seat and that was when I skidded to a stop knowing that I was on thin ice from only moments before. The boys hopped out and took their positions in the middle of the torrent. I decided to go against my instincts and keep it steady for this crossing as I didn’t particularly want to try and fish the Rickshaw from the riverbed. Within seconds I had made it over safely and rather pleased with myself. Once we were over safe and sound we remarked that it was lucky that we had run into Chicken Stew as the road was perhaps the quietest one that we had been on to date. We had not passed a single soul nor village for the entire time we had been taking on the puddles. Google Maps was consulted again and we decide to cut the fun short and head for what seemed to be a road more travelled. We successfully found one and kept on punting. The rain eased and we began making our way through a windy pass in some low lying hills. The scenery was stunning. It could be easily compared to the Highlands of Scotland. The icy breeze that was whipping through the downs also made for an authentic Scottish experience. We made a stop to take some photos and soak in the scenery. In the distance we can hear the very unmistakable cry of a Bajaj rickshaw doing it tough in second gear coming through the hills. From around a blind corner out pops the Lord Gonapati’s giving it hell. We join them and keep putting up the hill to meet Chicken Stew who had stopped on the side of the road. Some photos are taken and laughs are had about the crazy morning of driving. All of this is cut short by the freezing temperatures outside so we press on. We meet with a major highway and stop for lunch at a roadside restaurant. The road flattens out and we cruise into the Hotel Milan Executive in Beed around 4pm. The hotel was massive. As per usual there are around 10 staff there to cater to your every need. We get our rooms, order some beers & cigarettes then have a well deserved rest before dinner. Dinner is again an experience. We get ushered into a smokey room with saloon style doors that flapped in and out. There are 6 tables all with 4 double seater lounges set around them. It had the atmosphere of a gentlemen's club. Our cigarettes arrive on a silver platter which was a nice touch. The beers arrive soon after and everyone is enjoying sitting around. Three course Cassidy gets to work on ordering, we are all starving after the long day. The food lands, once we had eaten it all they bring out the rice for dessert. Something that we are becoming used to. Chicken Stew produce a bottle of whiskey for some night caps and we are all set. A nice end to a crazy day of tangoing with the monsoonal rains of middle India.
Day 5 - The sunrise that never arrived
A melody of alarms sound out at 3:50am. 3 sets of bleary eyes and sore heads slowly get up to catch the sunrise over Hampi. You have more chance of finding a Tasmanian Tiger trotting around the streets of Hobart than finding a beer in India. So when they were being delivered to the room the evening before, we all went a bit overboard and were feeling it a bit with the early wakeup call. Midway through our session the idea of catching the sunrise over Hampi seemed too good to pass up. We asked reception for the details. The staff assured us that being picked up at 4am was necessary so we arranged to be picked up then. So there we were sat out the front of the hotel waiting for our lift to the temple in the pitch black. It wasn't ideal whilst nursing a slight hangover. Our driver eventually rolls up half an hour late yawning and rubbing his eyes as if he'd had just woken up. We pile in and head off. The drive out to the monkey temple took around half an hour. The roads were silent and peaceful. We got dropped at the bottom of the hill in which the temple sat on top of. I was not looking forward to the 500 steps to the top. The rest of the group power up and reach the viewing deck. I take my time as I notoriously do not deal well with early mornings, hangovers and climbing things. As I near the top I am greeted to a consistent wailing being broadcasted over a crackly sound system. It became apparent that people live inside of the temple and this chanting is part of their morning ritual. There is still 40 minutes until sun up so the 4am pick up overshot the mark. As light started to break we noticed the very grey skies overhead. We were losing confidence that we were going to catch the sunrise of a lifetime. The other concerning factor was that we were the only tourists on top of the temple standing around in the pitch black. As we got more pre-dawn light Mitch noticed a track leading us away from the temple and over to some nearby rocks. We decided to check it out and quickly noticed some arrows directing the way sprayed painted on the rocks. We thought we were onto something here so we followed them hopping across small crevasses and clambering across the boulders. Eventually we got to a point with a large "X" marking the spot. Under the spot it was written "Welcome to Hampi's most famous sunset spot". Ahuh. It seemed we had been sold a lemon. On the walk back to the eastern side of the temple we noticed Will aka Señor Spits had slunk off with tummy troubles again. He had found a nice gap in the rocks to dispose of his guts. The lack of toilet paper in the wild has seen him sacrifice a pair of undies (of which he had packed 17 pairs of). We get back over to catch the last of the most disappointing sunrise any of us had ever gotten up for. I caught a quote from Mitchell summing up the entire experience "Woke up at 4am to see a non existent sunrise at a famous sunset spot". A few photos were taken as the views over Hampi were still quite impressive. The only thing keeping us going was the buffet breakfast back at the hotel.
We bust into empty dining room of the Heritage Resort like a clan of Vikings on a raid. The silver bain marie lids are quickly flipped open to find no food at all. Alarm bells. We are motioned to sit down and handed a few menus. The waiter made of the mistake of telling us that we could order whatever we wanted out of the 12 items on the menu. We ordered the lot. I sniffed out some bread and a toaster. Popped a couple of slices down and managed to trip the entire hotels power for a matter of minutes. After a decent breakfast Will and I caught some Zzz's whilst Mitch, Rory and Ryan zipped back down to Hampi for one last look. We hit the road around midday.
Again we felt like we were chasing our tails a little after the late start. We made our way onto the highway to catch up some km's. This particular highway was like a slice of swiss cheese so we quickly turned off to try and catch some back roads. This turned out to be one of the best decisions we had made. The road flattened out and we cruised across the country side without a care in the world. The landscape had changed again into large expanses of freshly harvested fields as far as the eye could see. The patches of rolling black dirt met nicely with the pure white clouds out on the horizon. Dashes of blue sky poked out between the majestic clouds as we motored towards our next stop the town of Badami. Again we had been amazed by the lack of people and desolation that these back roads had to offer.
Badami is famous for the caves it has carved into its red cliffs which rise above the town. We decide to go see if we can check them out before the sunsets for the day. A right turn is taken off the main road and into the first somewhat slummy part of India that we had come across. We weave our way through a warren of small streets until we spy a large reservoir. We have a look and take some photos. Fading light and being followed by some dodgy characters saw us turn around and head back to the hotel. We bump into Chicken Stew who were also heading back. The rickshaws were parked right out the front of the hotel in the open. We were a little worried about Ricky Ponting's welfare over night until Rory told us he had flicked the security guard 100 rupees to look after them. We had dinner at the hotel whilst watching some Kabaddi, India's second biggest sport after cricket. A few curries with various naan and paratha breads. All of us were knackered after the early rise so we head up and get to sleep. Around 10pm we receive a call from reception asking whether it would be alright if they brought up the third bed now. Whoever had brought it up when we arrived obviously hadn't relayed the message. We are slowly getting used to these sorts of things happening now.
Day 14.
The final day has arrived and the rickshaw is going strong. We left our luxury accommodation and hit the road for our final stretch. Went down a side road and stopped under a tree at the halfway point for an engine break and had a chat to a elderly shepherd about his goats using only sign language. He seemed to find us pretty amusing, and even got in the drivers seat to pose for a photo. After the rest stop we tested out the roof racks (now featuring a new snap on one of the four metal support bars) and Tom had a bit of a ride on the roof on the way back to the highway. The constant stream of walkers continued all day, this time people walking in the opposite direction from Jaisalmer toward Ramdevra.
We arrived in Jaisalmer at the Hotel run by a guy Tom met on his trip to India a few years prior. He hooked us up with the best room in the place for an incredibly good rate, we had spectacular views of the golden Jaisalmer fort through our windows. It all seemed a bit anticlimactic really, 14 days of incredible adventure ending in an arrival to another hotel with no real fanfare. We showered the sweat and highway grime away then drove to our friends hotel to have lunch. One of their rickshaws was in a terrible state, the roof rack had long ago been abandoned, the frame had rusted away in places, and they'd taken down the canvas roof to become a convertible. The front seat was on the ground next to the rickshaw.
Our friends were in a similar headspace to us, it was odd to all of a sudden be done with the rickshaw. Little did we know we were about to wrap up our journey in epic style.
There was a parade planned for 1pm setting off from the palace belonging to the prince of Jaisalmer around the Jaisalmer fort. We began the 8 minute drive to the palace at about 5 minutes to 1 after having a few problems starting one of the 3 rickshaws. While they were trying to start, the rickshaw belonging to our other friends set about taking their jerry cans off the roof as the sun had been beaming down on them all day and the 38 degree heat had turned the once rectangular plastic containers completely spherical. They could have blown at any moment. The late departure made for a pretty frantic race to the palace, we saw a few other rickshaws in similar states to ours and a few hundred metres from the finish line we spluttered out of fuel. Disaster. We thought we had planned it perfectly, but spending the whole morning abandoning our previous nursing of the engine and driving full throttle had burned more petrol than expected. Team 'she'll be right' we're the ones who had taken the Jerry cans down from their roof and Henry went with them as they raced back to their hotel to pick them up for us. Just after they departed the scene Tom flagged down another passing team and they graciously threw us a Jerry can. We took a litre using hands as a funnel and called Henry back. Back in action we crossed the finish line with plenty of tooting and were stoked to see 70-80 other rickshaws still there getting ready to kick off the parade.
The air was electric and excitement got the better of our three teams. We hooned into the sandy front yard of the palace behind the queue of rickshaws preparing for parade and started going nuts. Driving round in circles on the horn, drifting, doing burnouts in the sand and generally having a good time. Tom was at the helm, and knowing this was his last chance driving the rickshaw that had mightily carried us over 3000 km he got thoroughly carried away and accidentally managed to put the rickshaw right up on two wheels. Who knows how it didn't roll, eye witness reports reckon it was right at the tipping point and could have gone either way. Pretty good time to join the queue and get ready for the parade.
80ish pimped up rickshaws driven by foreigners doing a lap of the town is quite a sight to behold, and Jaisalmer definitely wasn't ready for us. No roads were closed and it was the middle of the day. Absolute chaos. More than a couple of rickshaws less fortunate than ours broke down before completing a lap, and one right in front of us managed to fall into a pothole so big their right rear wheel was left hanging freely, supported by the framework. Took a couple of people to lift it out and set it on its way. When everyone finally arrived back in the palace grounds it seemed our earlier arrival had inspired dozens of teams to get a bit loose. After the previous brush with disaster Henry and Sarah demanded to be let out of the rickshaw before Tom joined the fray. It was insane, so much dust was kicked up that visibility was reduced to a few metres. Tom attempted to perfect the art of driving a rickshaw on two wheels, as did our mates in the convertible. They were a bit less successful and managed to roll sending the three of them out the roof and drawing a bit of blood. There were a few friendly collisions, but once a second team ended up on their side the police stepped in and the whole thing died down. With a ceremonious lurch, the rickshaw was stalled into silence for a final time alongside its battered brethren.
We partied into the night with the prince himself. This whole trip has been the adventure of a lifetime. After day one we were pretty confident we wouldn't make it, but the rickshaw stayed strong and the people of India showed us some amazing kindness.
Day 14.
The final day has arrived and the rickshaw is going strong. We left our luxury accommodation and hit the road for our final stretch. Went down a side road and stopped under a tree at the halfway point for an engine break and had a chat to a elderly shepherd about his goats using only sign language. He seemed to find us pretty amusing, and even got in the drivers seat to pose for a photo. After the rest stop we tested out the roof racks (now featuring a new snap on one of the four metal support bars) and Tom had a bit of a ride on the roof on the way back to the highway. The constant stream of walkers continued all day, this time people walking in the opposite direction from Jaisalmer toward Ramdevra.
We arrived in Jaisalmer at the Hotel run by a guy Tom met on his trip to India a few years prior. He hooked us up with the best room in the place for an incredibly good rate, we had spectacular views of the golden Jaisalmer fort through our windows. It all seemed a bit anticlimactic really, 14 days of incredible adventure ending in an arrival to another hotel with no real fanfare. We showered the sweat and highway grime away then drove to our friends hotel to have lunch. One of their rickshaws was in a terrible state, the roof rack had long ago been abandoned, the frame had rusted away in places, and they'd taken down the canvas roof to become a convertible. The front seat was on the ground next to the rickshaw.
Our friends were in a similar headspace to us, it was odd to all of a sudden be done with the rickshaw. Little did we know we were about to wrap up our journey in epic style.
There was a parade planned for 1pm setting off from the palace belonging to the prince of Jaisalmer around the Jaisalmer fort. We began the 8 minute drive to the palace at about 5 minutes to 1 after having a few problems starting one of the 3 rickshaws. While they were trying to start, the rickshaw belonging to our other friends set about taking their jerry cans off the roof as the sun had been beaming down on them all day and the 38 degree heat had turned the once rectangular plastic containers completely spherical. They could have blown at any moment. The late departure made for a pretty frantic race to the palace, we saw a few other rickshaws in similar states to ours and a few hundred metres from the finish line we spluttered out of fuel. Disaster. We thought we had planned it perfectly, but spending the whole morning abandoning our previous nursing of the engine and driving full throttle had burned more petrol than expected. Team 'she'll be right' we're the ones who had taken the Jerry cans down from their roof and Henry went with them as they raced back to their hotel to pick them up for us. Just after they departed the scene Tom flagged down another passing team and they graciously threw us a Jerry can. We took a litre using hands as a funnel and called Henry back. Back in action we crossed the finish line with plenty of tooting and were stoked to see 70-80 other rickshaws still there getting ready to kick off the parade.
The air was electric and excitement got the better of our three teams. We hooned into the sandy front yard of the palace behind the queue of rickshaws preparing for parade and started going nuts. Driving round in circles on the horn, drifting, doing burnouts in the sand and generally having a good time. Tom was at the helm, and knowing this was his last chance driving the rickshaw that had mightily carried us over 3000 km he got thoroughly carried away and accidentally managed to put the rickshaw right up on two wheels. Who knows how it didn't roll, eye witness reports reckon it was right at the tipping point and could have gone either way. Pretty good time to join the queue and get ready for the parade.
80ish pimped up rickshaws driven by foreigners doing a lap of the town is quite a sight to behold, and Jaisalmer definitely wasn't ready for us. No roads were closed and it was the middle of the day. Absolute chaos. More than a couple of rickshaws less fortunate than ours broke down before completing a lap, and one right in front of us managed to fall into a pothole so big their right rear wheel was left hanging freely, supported by the framework. Took a couple of people to lift it out and set it on its way. When everyone finally arrived back in the palace grounds it seemed our earlier arrival had inspired dozens of teams to get a bit loose. After the previous brush with disaster Henry and Sarah demanded to be let out of the rickshaw before Tom joined the fray. It was insane, so much dust was kicked up that visibility was reduced to a few metres. Tom attempted to perfect the art of driving a rickshaw on two wheels, as did our mates in the convertible. They were a bit less successful and managed to roll sending the three of them out the roof and drawing a bit of blood. There were a few friendly collisions, but once a second team ended up on their side the police stepped in and the whole thing died down. With a ceremonious lurch, the rickshaw was stalled into silence for a final time alongside its battered brethren.
We partied into the night with the prince himself. This whole trip has been the adventure of a lifetime. After day one we were pretty confident we wouldn't make it, but the rickshaw stayed strong and the people of India showed us some amazing kindness.
Day 13
Second to last day. Had a fairly relaxed morning wandering around Jodhpur, Henry and Tom had another dip in the inner city water hole. This time nobody else was jumping in which meant the water hadn't been churned up and the uncleanliness was really showing. There were also a whole lot of weird fish all over the place, so before jumping in an old man walked down and fed them at the opposite corner to get them out of our way. Legend.
Met up with the other two teams we've been keeping in touch with at breakfast, their plan is to have a big day on the highway and make it to Jaisalmer a day early to look around there, our plan is to enjoy Jodhpur and have two smallish days between here and there. Jodhpur is full of rooftop bars/cafes/restaurants, all with amazing views of the fort and surrounding blue houses.
Despite much protest from Tom and Sarah, Henry decided 'it's too hot to have a beard' was a stronger argument than 'it's quite funny if you grow a massive ginger beard'. So he ditched the group to get a roadside shave with comb and scissor and complimentary aggressive face massage. Meanwhile Sarah and Tom sorted team outfits for tomorrow nights finishers party. It's a bit surreal that tomorrow will be our last day in the rickshaw, it feels like we've been on the road for months with the amount that's happened since we started out.
We set off just after midday. Our plan was to head for a town called Phalodi because google maps showed it as having a pretty impressive fort. While having a chai at a rooftop cafe someone noticed that the fort from google maps looked suspiciously similar to the fort towering over Jodhpur. Identical in fact. Dodgy Indian google strikes again, and fortunately Phalodi is struck from the itinerary before we detour the wrong way. Pokhran is chosen as the replacement destination for no reason other than it's vaguely on the way and reachable by nightfall.
The drive was along reasonable highways with the accompanying aggressive bus/truck drivers, but on the side of the road was a constant stream of people walking. Some holding bags, some balancing entire suitcases on their heads, some holding massive flags and some carrying larger than life stuffed toys of white horses. It was all pretty baffling, there were plenty of cars with similar flags and trucks full to overflowing with people holding the same type of flag. There were some trucks with giant speakers on the back pumping weird Indian techno driving slowly next to the road with walkers having a bit of a dance as they walked behind them. It was pushing 40 degrees and nobody was wearing shorts. Mostly saris for women and jeans and collared shirts for men. This went on for the entire 175km trip.
We later discovered that it's a pilgrimage for one of the Hindu gods. This god is always depicted on a white horse holding a multicoloured flag, which explained what the walkers were carrying. Apparently some Hindus make a wish with this god for something they want, be it cure from illness, a new job, to have a baby boy instead of a baby girl, and make a deal with this god that if it comes true they will walk to a shrine in the village of Ramdevra in Rajasthan to pay homage. So all these people lining the highway are walking hundreds and hundreds of kilometres in the intolerable heat because of a deal with this god. It's unfathomable dedication to the faith.
Nearing Pokhran we had a look at accommodation options and noticed there was a 13th century fort in the middle of town that google was advertising as a hotel with a pool. We navigated our way through some pretty busy streets, a bit dubious as there was no fort in sight until suddenly we arrived at some huge wooden gates. We drove on through to find ourselves in the courtyard of a bustling fort full of local tourists. It seems foreigners can get away with anything in India, so we parked our conspicuous ride in the courtyard and set about determining whether this was a hotel. After a few false starts we were led to a beautiful closed off courtyard away from the hustle and bustle through the maharaja's (maharaja = Indian king) dining hall to a chandeliered bedroom with the best looking bathroom India had produced thus far. And best of all, the swimming pool existed. We went into a dingy office and were quoted an outrageous fee, so after a brief unsuccessful attempt at haggling we went back to the rickshaw and began looking through the usual terrible hotels small towns like to offer.
On starting the rickshaw to leave a man quietly came up to us and said '5000 rupees with no tax required'. Bingo. Still expensive compared to the usual 700 rupees, but how often do you get to stay in a palace. The rickshaw was led through another set of gates and we had half a palace shut off for just the three of us to enjoy. The plebeian section of the fort was pretty unpleasant, with large mounds of red spit in the corner of each room and hundreds of staring, unsolicited selfie taking locals crowding around the only foreigners in a 100km radius. We couldn't stop moving without being surrounded. We tried to have a bit of a laugh and stare back to see what happened, but they just don't flinch and you just end up staring into each other's souls for 30 seconds. We fled the paparazzi to our private palace and swam in our private pool, wandered through our private gardens and climbed along our private fort walls. We were served dinner in a large hall by our private butler and played cards under the gaze of photographs of the various maharaja who ran the palace in days gone by. By far the best place we've stayed in our lives. A definite step up from the filthy inner city swim of this morning. Thank you India.
Day 13
Second to last day. Had a fairly relaxed morning wandering around Jodhpur, Henry and Tom had another dip in the inner city water hole. This time nobody else was jumping in which meant the water hadn't been churned up and the uncleanliness was really showing. There were also a whole lot of weird fish all over the place, so before jumping in an old man walked down and fed them at the opposite corner to get them out of our way. Legend.
Met up with the other two teams we've been keeping in touch with at breakfast, their plan is to have a big day on the highway and make it to Jaisalmer a day early to look around there, our plan is to enjoy Jodhpur and have two smallish days between here and there. Jodhpur is full of rooftop bars/cafes/restaurants, all with amazing views of the fort and surrounding blue houses.
Despite much protest from Tom and Sarah, Henry decided 'it's too hot to have a beard' was a stronger argument than 'it's quite funny if you grow a massive ginger beard'. So he ditched the group to get a roadside shave with comb and scissor and complimentary aggressive face massage. Meanwhile Sarah and Tom sorted team outfits for tomorrow nights finishers party. It's a bit surreal that tomorrow will be our last day in the rickshaw, it feels like we've been on the road for months with the amount that's happened since we started out.
We set off just after midday. Our plan was to head for a town called Phalodi because google maps showed it as having a pretty impressive fort. While having a chai at a rooftop cafe someone noticed that the fort from google maps looked suspiciously similar to the fort towering over Jodhpur. Identical in fact. Dodgy Indian google strikes again, and fortunately Phalodi is struck from the itinerary before we detour the wrong way. Pokhran is chosen as the replacement destination for no reason other than it's vaguely on the way and reachable by nightfall.
The drive was along reasonable highways with the accompanying aggressive bus/truck drivers, but on the side of the road was a constant stream of people walking. Some holding bags, some balancing entire suitcases on their heads, some holding massive flags and some carrying larger than life stuffed toys of white horses. It was all pretty baffling, there were plenty of cars with similar flags and trucks full to overflowing with people holding the same type of flag. There were some trucks with giant speakers on the back pumping weird Indian techno driving slowly next to the road with walkers having a bit of a dance as they walked behind them. It was pushing 40 degrees and nobody was wearing shorts. Mostly saris for women and jeans and collared shirts for men. This went on for the entire 175km trip.
We later discovered that it's a pilgrimage for one of the Hindu gods. This god is always depicted on a white horse holding a multicoloured flag, which explained what the walkers were carrying. Apparently some Hindus make a wish with this god for something they want, be it cure from illness, a new job, to have a baby boy instead of a baby girl, and make a deal with this god that if it comes true they will walk to a shrine in the village of Ramdevra in Rajasthan to pay homage. So all these people lining the highway are walking hundreds and hundreds of kilometres in the intolerable heat because of a deal with this god. It's unfathomable dedication to the faith.
Nearing Pokhran we had a look at accommodation options and noticed there was a 13th century fort in the middle of town that google was advertising as a hotel with a pool. We navigated our way through some pretty busy streets, a bit dubious as there was no fort in sight until suddenly we arrived at some huge wooden gates. We drove on through to find ourselves in the courtyard of a bustling fort full of local tourists. It seems foreigners can get away with anything in India, so we parked our conspicuous ride in the courtyard and set about determining whether this was a hotel. After a few false starts we were led to a beautiful closed off courtyard away from the hustle and bustle through the maharaja's (maharaja = Indian king) dining hall to a chandeliered bedroom with the best looking bathroom India had produced thus far. And best of all, the swimming pool existed. We went into a dingy office and were quoted an outrageous fee, so after a brief unsuccessful attempt at haggling we went back to the rickshaw and began looking through the usual terrible hotels small towns like to offer.
On starting the rickshaw to leave a man quietly came up to us and said '5000 rupees with no tax required'. Bingo. Still expensive compared to the usual 700 rupees, but how often do you get to stay in a palace. The rickshaw was led through another set of gates and we had half a palace shut off for just the three of us to enjoy. The plebeian section of the fort was pretty unpleasant, with large mounds of red spit in the corner of each room and hundreds of staring, unsolicited selfie taking locals crowding around the only foreigners in a 100km radius. We couldn't stop moving without being surrounded. We tried to have a bit of a laugh and stare back to see what happened, but they just don't flinch and you just end up staring into each other's souls for 30 seconds. We fled the paparazzi to our private palace and swam in our private pool, wandered through our private gardens and climbed along our private fort walls. We were served dinner in a large hall by our private butler and played cards under the gaze of photographs of the various maharaja who ran the palace in days gone by. By far the best place we've stayed in our lives. A definite step up from the filthy inner city swim of this morning. Thank you India.
Day 12
Today we woke up from our lovely bus station side hotel full of spit marks and dubious sheet stains to no ventilation. Off we set in the rickshaw for our third to last day on the road!
We drove fairly bumpy roads until in the middle of the smallest and muddiest of roads Tom did a bit too much drifting and the rickshaw broke down. Tom set about troubleshooting in the near 40 degree heat and it turned out to be the CDI unit again. This time no amount of toothbrush would fix it, but luckily we had picked up a spare a few days before when we were getting it serviced. When the new unit was in and taped up to keep the water out Tom asked Henry to start the engine, it worked a treat so he asked him to stop so we could pack up the gear. The engine did not stop however and kept running without the key, we turned the fuel off and it kept running without the fuel. Ghost rickshaw. To stop the engine we now have to stall it. Curious.
We continued on our way and reached Jodhpur nice and early in the day leaving plenty of time for relaxed exploration.
The fort and view of the blue city was very impressive. There is a kid who every afternoon flings chunks of meat off the top of the fort and hundreds of Kites gather to swoop down and grab them. Quite a sight to behold.
On our journey back to town, Henry had his third crash of the trip. The roads through the old city are so narrow that they make extra narrow rickshaws to get through. We didn't really know where we were going so unintentionally wound our way into narrower and narrower streets. Nobody seems to care that we're trying to squeeze our mighty rickshaw through so nobody gets out of the way leading to Henry slowly clipping a guys motorbike as he sat in the road talking to some friends. No harm done apart from to Henrys points tally.
We were later swarmed by a group of young children while stopping to look at the map and had to physically pull them all off the sides and back of the rickshaw to get away without running over toes.
Over the road from our hotel is a small square man made lake surrounded by steep steps on three sides and a temple on the other. Some young kids were jumping off the 10 metre roof of the temple into the water, which was dubiously coloured and trash filled and of suspicious origin. But it's about 35 degrees so Tom got amongst and had a few jumps to the delight of the crowd.
Later on we checked out some of the bustling Jodhpur markets, it is a very busy little city and we've definitely noticed an increase in tourism up here. We've already bumped into 5 rickshaw teams and we know there are more here, obvious that we are near the finish line!
Day 12
Today we woke up from our lovely bus station side hotel full of spit marks and dubious sheet stains to no ventilation. Off we set in the rickshaw for our third to last day on the road!
We drove fairly bumpy roads until in the middle of the smallest and muddiest of roads Tom did a bit too much drifting and the rickshaw broke down. Tom set about troubleshooting in the near 40 degree heat and it turned out to be the CDI unit again. This time no amount of toothbrush would fix it, but luckily we had picked up a spare a few days before when we were getting it serviced. When the new unit was in and taped up to keep the water out Tom asked Henry to start the engine, it worked a treat so he asked him to stop so we could pack up the gear. The engine did not stop however and kept running without the key, we turned the fuel off and it kept running without the fuel. Ghost rickshaw. To stop the engine we now have to stall it. Curious.
We continued on our way and reached Jodhpur nice and early in the day leaving plenty of time for relaxed exploration.
The fort and view of the blue city was very impressive. There is a kid who every afternoon flings chunks of meat off the top of the fort and hundreds of Kites gather to swoop down and grab them. Quite a sight to behold.
On our journey back to town, Henry had his third crash of the trip. The roads through the old city are so narrow that they make extra narrow rickshaws to get through. We didn't really know where we were going so unintentionally wound our way into narrower and narrower streets. Nobody seems to care that we're trying to squeeze our mighty rickshaw through so nobody gets out of the way leading to Henry slowly clipping a guys motorbike as he sat in the road talking to some friends. No harm done apart from to Henrys points tally.
We were later swarmed by a group of young children while stopping to look at the map and had to physically pull them all off the sides and back of the rickshaw to get away without running over toes.
Over the road from our hotel is a small square man made lake surrounded by steep steps on three sides and a temple on the other. Some young kids were jumping off the 10 metre roof of the temple into the water, which was dubiously coloured and trash filled and of suspicious origin. But it's about 35 degrees so Tom got amongst and had a few jumps to the delight of the crowd.
Later on we checked out some of the bustling Jodhpur markets, it is a very busy little city and we've definitely noticed an increase in tourism up here. We've already bumped into 5 rickshaw teams and we know there are more here, obvious that we are near the finish line!
