Day 14 we woke up, loaded Roxi and were in the hotels restaurant, Coconut hut, as it opened at 7.30am. We had curry, as always, for breakfast and then Tom spotted doughnuts behind the counter so ordered 3 for the road. I drove first today, out of the hotel and onto the busy road. We decided to start the day on the scenic coastal road, rather than the highway, a decision that meant it would take longer, and potentially the ferries could add additional time, but something we wanted to do on our last day as it’s where you see more real life and local people. The shorter route we needed to take to the ferry had a ‘road closed’ barrier in front of it but having experience in India now and seeing a moped wiggle round it, we decided to risk it and go past anyway. The road basically didn’t exist and was just sand, gravel and rocks but going slowly we could bump our way along. That was until we got to a heaped line of gravel up ahead. Again, deciding to go for it, I drove through/up/over the hump, not even really realising how close we were to rolling onto the nearby wall. We reached the ferry, much quicker than if we’d followed the diversion and drove straight on just as it was loading and leaving. Agreeing that doing some little diversions on our last day was a good idea, we were determined to try and get our little rickshaw on the beach, something we hadn’t done yet. Knowing that the sea was running parallel to the road we were on, we turned down a very small and residential track. We could see the sea and beach ahead of us but as we neared it we saw a big drop from the track to the beach - we weren’t going to be able to get Roxi down it so we began turning her round. All this commotion, in an otherwise very quiet side street, caused quite a crowd and within about 3 minutes we had around 20 children surrounding us. They were so excited, asking us so many questions, climbing in the rickshaw, taking selfies, giggling with one another and signing the rickshaw too. It was an amazing experience. After a while, knowing we had a finish line to get to, we told them we had to go. I began to drive away, extremely slowly as they were all still around us, and they shouted ‘Nooooo’! That was when they piled in the back, basically sitting on Chris’ lap and hung off the sides and back. I had one child on each side of me in the drivers seat and they were all whooping and shouting as I drove slowly back up the track towards the road. One of the children hanging off the side must have only been about 4 years old, a beautiful face with a beaming smile. This really made my trip and summed up all the amazing, friendly people we had met. Soon after leaving them, we joined Route 66, dreading being back on a highway, but it wasn’t like a highway at all, this time it weaved in and out of villages and towns so there was still plenty to look at and see. With Tom now driving, Chris asked if anyone saw a hardware store, to shout and we’d stop. Sure enough we spotted one shortly after that and Chris jumped out to go and get some drain pipe cut (he needed a poster protecting tube to bring his communist poster home safely or course!). He was gone for ages and when he came back, told us that the old man had told him to sit and wait whilst he finished his lunch and washed up his dishes, before serving him. Our next stop was a shopping mall that had WiFi and coffee. It was then a bit of a push as we knew we had one last ferry to get over to Kochi and didn’t want to miss it and have to wait (not that we knew what time it was going though!). As we neared the ferry port we saw a huge line of cars, probably a queue of 30. We had become quite well practiced at the art of foreign ignorance so, against Toms polite wishes, we told him to just drive straight to the front. A very kind rickshaw driver waved us in front of him, and within a few moments we were loading onto the ferry, us driving on first! From the other side it was just a 4 minute drive to the finish line. Under the orange ‘finish line’ sign we drove and up into a small, red carpeted stage where a machine fired rose petals into the air above us and lots of photos were taken. As we drove off the stage a man ran over with 3 fresh coconuts, which we drank whilst signing our team name on the finishing board. After a while of talking to other teams and swapping a few stories, we stripped our little Roxi of her tassels, flag, our bags, the tracker and Toms compass, that had been attached to it too. It was funny to see all the rickshaws again, so beautiful at the beginning and now dusty, muddy, scratched and some with roof racks snapped and broken. Then we gave back the keys. It was a strange feeling as we walked out and got in a rickshaw to our hotel. We had driven, cared for, sat in, checked and pushed that little rickshaw for 14 days and now it was over. It had basically been our home for 2 weeks, apart from the very few hours we had slept somewhere else at nighttime. The rickshaw taxi driver made a deal with us and dropped the price of our fare if we agreed to drop into a souvenir shop on the way to the hotel. We did, despite being desperate for showers, which meant he got a fuel ticket from the shop, so he could get free petrol next time he filled up. I also went to the first shop I could see opposite our hotel, knowing there was now no time for laundry and drying, and bought 2 new pairs of trousers and 2 tops for £12. At the hotel, we had just enough time to shower and have a quick catch up with another team also staying at the hotel, before walking to the boat which would take us to the party that evening. The boat ride was pretty rubbish, full of teams that had clearly been drinking a lot and were very lary and laddy, which ruined the experience a bit, so we were pleased to get off the boat 20 minutes later to an Indian drumming band and a path across the lawn to a huge hotel lit up with candles. We shared stories with other teams, had some food, watched an Indian JuJitsu team and fire dancers perform and then gathered for some award giving. At the end of the ceremony, a guy stood up and proposed to his girlfriend, followed by lots of cheers and whoops and claps from the crowd, a pretty cool thing to see. We got the boat back shortly after that and sat in a roadside restaurant just off from the beachfront, and had some food, before sliding into our luxury beds at the very lovely Forte Kochi hotel.
On day 13 we left White Lotus at 6am with our packed lunches in tow (we’d ordered sandwiches from room service the night before and asked them to wrap them up for us). Chris drove first and we debated getting off the highway for smaller more interesting roads but were also aware that we needed to make the distance with time fast disappearing. Turned out that the highway became a much smaller, more interesting road. By the sides of the road we could see that houses had been demolished to make way for this road, whenever it was built. Some buildings actually had the back rooms still but had had the front of the building knocked down (you could still see mirrors hung up and bookshelves on the wall of the indoor, but now outdoor, walls). Soon we stopped at a ‘Cafe Coffee Day’, the only commercial shop we’d really seen in the whole of India. Chris and Tom ordered coffees and milkshakes and after about half an hour they were ready (the machine was broken, obviously). I drove next but had to swap with Tom after just an hour as I was feeling pretty tired. We drove through areas with lots of flags and posters up promoting the political parties here, for the upcoming election. Chris really wanted one of the communist party posters so, with knife at the ready, Tom pulled over and Chris cut one off a nearby lamppost. Much larger than we had expected and not wanting anyone to see we had it, Chris and I sat in the back peeling the cardboard off the back so it would be roll-up-able. I drove next but after about 10 minutes...we broke down. We hadn’t run out of fuel, it wasn’t the fuel filter and it wasn’t the spark plug (problems we’d had before). Chris and Tom diagnosed the problem quickly and before long Chris had opened up the fuel cut off switch, cleared it out (it was full of grit) and we were back on the road. Along the next stretch of driving Tom and Chris were looking out for rickshaw dealerships and jumping out to check them out. We stopped for ice cream again and talked to some locals about our rickshaw. Tom took over the driving next and along the way we saw some horrible crumpled buses, one on the side of the road and another still driving around, collecting passengers. Chris drove us into Calicut to 3 hotels that were fully booked, before we found Hyson Heritage hotel and booked two rooms. Despite a long conversation and Tom doing some charades that he would like a double room, they would not agree so instead booked him into a twin room, much to Toms annoyance. We walked to find a place that did Ayurvedic massage, a Keralan treatment, but the spa had been turned into a medical centre. Too hot to carry on walking around, we headed to ‘The Beach Hotel’ for some beers. We sat outside in a garden area and ordered. We’d been there for about 10 minutes when Tom stretched his arms above his head and the whole back of the chair snapped off, leaving Tom collapsed on the floor. Not able to help as we were laughing so much (and Tom was still in an awkward half balancing on the broken chair, half on the floor position) 2 waiters ran over, helped him up and removed the broken chair, giving him a new one. When the laughing died down and the beers ran dry, we jumped in a rickshaw to a local restaurant called ‘Paragon’. We were met with a similar experience to the night before. A packed restaurant, where we had to wait for a table, full of families and gatherings of locals, the curries here were the best we’d had so far on the trip. We went to the adjacent bakery after, owned by the restaurant, for coffee and cake, before heading back to our hotel.
Charlie
Day 12 started leisurely as we really had to tear ourselves away from Ciaran’s and Palolem beach. After breakfast we went for a swim in the very warm sea. Chris lost his watch which was annoying, then we packed up our stuff and walked back down the beach to find our little rickshaw. Tom started the day driving us south and out of Goa, past beaches and palm groves and a family on a motorbike (totally normal to see at least 4 people on a moped together) where one of the little boys was asleep being held on the moped by his mum as his head flopped around all over the place - really sweet. Chris took over a couple of hours later, through 2 sections of road that had lots of large birds flying overhead. We couldn’t work out why there might be about 50 birds, they looked like kites or kestrels, all swooping and darting around over those 2 sections of road. At around 3 o’clock we pulled off the road and drove 2km to Murudeshwar, a beachside pilgrimage town with an enormous statue of Shiva sitting on a hill overlooking the town and, in front of it, an 18 storey skyscraper-like temple. It was pretty amazing and different to see. With lots of people around, temperatures at about 36 degrees and all of us pretty hungry, we saw a decent sign for somewhere to eat and decided to follow it. We’ve learnt now which signs mean the place is probably good and ok to eat in. It turned out to be a large hotel which we drove through the gates of (another bonus as that means we don’t have to take all or stuff off the rickshaw), parked up and Tom and I walked up the steps into the lobby, which was also a big and completely empty restaurant. ‘The restaurant is closed now’, the man said to Tom, then looked at us and said ‘wait a minute’. 2 minutes later he told us they could do some vegetable fried rice, fried fish and peanut masala with some beers too. Sweet. When the fish arrived at the table it looked so strange, like someone had dipped Dory, from Finding Nemo, into a jar of dry cous cous. Anyway, the rice was steaming hot and the beers were cold and the fish was fresh (and coated in polenta it turned out) so we were happy. I drove us out, past another stepwell which the boys jumped out and had a look at, then we hit Route 66. It was absolute chaos on the highway, with 2 new lanes added and completed but no order at all. Both sides of the central reservation there were cars, trucks, bikes and everything else driving in both directions and occasionally swapping between the 2 at short notice too. Through toll gates and police ‘slow’ sections we went and at one point the police waved us down to try and pull us over and I just waved, smiled, accelerated and carried on, saying ‘we don’t have time to be pulled over by the police now’. We did, however, have time for an ice cream of course so the next sign we saw, I pulled over. Tom went to the little roadside stall and whilst waiting a woman and her toddler came over. She wanted to say hello to us and told her child to shake my hand. She was quite shy and very sweet so I cut one of the colourful dangling llamas off the side of the rickshaw and gave it to her. She looked a little gormless at me but then smiled and turned the llama over in her hands as they moved away. Entering Kerala meant learning about a new group of people, their culture, their clothing, their manner and the food they eat. Our first glimpse of this was pulling into a car park where a wedding was taking place, and seeing all the men wearing their ? (a piece of fabric wrapped around them like a sarong and they either wear it long to their ankles of short above their knee). The women were wearing brightly coloured dresses in a haulter neck style, with their shoulders on show, which is completely different to further north. We got a lot more Granny side boob than we bargained for (Chris told me to write that bit). We reached Udupi in the evening, a busy town that I navigated just as the sun went down. Showers were the priority when we arrived, followed by laundry that made the water turn completely brown - lovely. Udupi is the birth place of the dosa, a crispy Indian pancake filled with spiced potato and vegetables, so we headed out to find Woodlands, a restaurant renown for its dosas and vegetarian food. On the way we saw a supermarket, the first we’d seen in India so, curious, we went in. There was a man at the entrance cable tying shoppers handbags together, a tactic to avoid people stealing anything, and then another man at the exit who chopped the cable tie off. We found Woodlands and walked underneath the garish neon sign and down some stairs to a bustling underground hub of locals. So full of people that there was a queue to get in. Chris was handed a small piece of paper with some numbers written on it and we were told to wait. This was exciting because the whole restaurant was packed with Indian families, not one westerner, just celebrations and gatherings of local people. The food did not disappoint. We all had huge masala dosas, thalis, bhel puri (a crispy popped rice dish) and spicy mango and ginger drinks. The main waiter took us under his wing and was explaining everything on the menu and telling us what everything was when it arrived. On the walk back to the hotel we saw an owl flying low down the middle of the road. It was a snowy white barn owl (I don’t know my owls) flying through the busy town centre. Often if you think of the most unlikely thing you think you’re about to see next, it turns out that that’s probably pretty close to reality. We took the elevator to the 4th floor of our hotel and had beers in the bar before heading to bed.
Charlie
Day 10 started with our earliest start so far. We got up at 5am and were on the road at 5.30am, still dark but knowing it would get light in the next 15 minutes or so. The roads were really good in the morning with lots of little bridges across inlets and rivers, passing through fishing villages. We took the old highway from Ratnagiri down to Goa. I took the wheel from Tom a couple of hours later and we cruised on until the highway road just stopped, with a barrier and basically no bridge ahead due to roadworks. Trucks were turning around but we noticed mopeds turning left off the main road. We decided to go for it so I drove the rickshaw off the paved road, down a pretty steep, sandy path and onto a small dirt track just wide enough for the rickshaw. We bumped down this little footpath and I even had to drive us over a narrow concrete slab that crossed a patch of water. You literally never know what’s going to happen or where you’ll end up in this vehicle. I drove us into a town called Malvarn and we began looking out for places to eat but quickly got tangled in the tiny streets close to the sea. Again very narrow, but this time with ladies sitting on both sides of the street with their fruit all over the floor, this was my most challenging bit of driving yet. Having to dodge fruit, children, parked mopeds and with a, suddenly annoying, tall metal pole sticking up from our rickshaw (with our Indian flag on it), I was also having to be careful of all the stalls umbrellas and shelters. Almost definite by this point that we were driving down pedestrian footpaths, I turned a corner to see the narrow street full of people wearing white, walking towards us and singing. There was nowhere I could go and nothing that would make this any easier so I squeezed our little Roxi as close to the left hand wall as possible, leaving space for about 2 people to walk next to each other to her right hand side. People with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, streamed past us and then 4 men, each with a pole on their shoulder carrying a board with heaped flowers on top. As they got closer, it dawned on us what was happening - this was a funeral procession and that heaped pile of flowers had a body underneath. What I didn’t expect to see, as the 4 men almost had to lift the body over Roxi to get it down the tiny road, was that the mans head would not be covered in flowers, just flopping around on top of the board as they walked it past. I don’t know what shocked me more, the men hanging on hooks or this dead mans head, 2 foot from my face. Ah India! 10 minutes later we were sitting in a random little restaurant, trying to chat over a very loud, J-lo film called Anaconda that was blaring from a TV far too large for the room size it was in, and being asked for selfies from the police. Tom did his usual trick of choosing something on the menu he doesn’t know what it is - sometimes works, this time was the weirdest so far. A plate of what looked like giant cous cous but white, arrived with other bits mixed in, kind of like a rice pudding. Chris and I had masala dosa that were great. Tom drove next, down the bumpiest road we’ve been down so far (it felt like we were in a boat, rolling over waves!). We past camps down next to the rivers that we reckoned were seasonal fisherman and I had to keep jumping out to clear the path of palm leaves that had fallen from the trees overhead. As today is 23rd April, Election Day, every town we went through during the day had a very well dressed man sitting at a table on the street, with often crowds of people writing on paper and giving it in. We saw lots more dogs. There are dogs everywhere here and we have the endearing way of calling them ‘Rabies’. ‘Rabies on the left’, ‘Rabies sleeping on the road up ahead’ and even ‘Baby Rabies’ (meaning a puppy). Some of them are quite sweet looking, some are mangy, some run and chase the rickshaw growling and barking, and none of them you want to bite you, hence the name. We started seeing Westerners on mopeds as we got into Goa - something we were disappointed by but also looking forward to being in a place with more of a buzz and stuff going on. That was when we remembered again (not that we’d forgotten at all) that today was still a dry day and that arriving in Goa, on the beach, we still weren’t going to be able to have a beer. Boo. Beach Street Resort in Mandrem was where we chose to stay and soon we were dozing on sun loungers under bamboo umbrellas on the beach. We woke up to see a man walk onto the beach with a pet chicken. He was holding it in his arms, then lay propped up on his side in the sand whilst the chicken hopped about near him, constantly going back over to him for a stroke. We had Goan fish curry for dinner that evening, and fooling ourselves, we ordered Mocktails from the menu. At 11pm a security guard cane over to the able we were sitting at playing cards, and said he was closing this area and switching the lights off. Beginning to have a slight sense of humour failure because of the dry evenings and quiet places, we headed to bed. Not a hugely restful one, we woke up in the night being munched by mosquitos, Chris with the biggest mosquito bite I’ve ever seen on his arm. There must have been about 5 of them all going for the same spot, poor thing.
Charlie
We left Exotica, bleary eyed and possibly feeling less exotic than when we arrived, at about 7.15am. I drove first, my favourite drive so far, as we took the coastal road from Diveagar. Today we took lots of little ferries across the inlets, along the coast. In between we’re mountains, hills, forests and villages. At one point we found ourselves driving along, what looked like, a freshly laid tarmac road. It was smooth and dark and looked almost still sticky. That was when we realised the road was actually still being laid. We turned a corner and there were steam rollers driving up the road towards us and a machine that took up all the space across the whole road width, spreading gravel. About 6 men were following the machine, which was moving about an inch a second, manually pouring tar onto the small stones coming out of the machine. There was no space either side so the only thing to do was stop and wait. I spoke to a really sweet, shy little boy on the side of the road and obviously got out and filmed the situation too! When the machine got to a corner, we were able to squeeze down the side, with lots of cheers from the local men who thought the whole thing was pretty funny too. Soon we got to Guhagar, drove around a bit looking for somewhere to get some food (it was about 1 by this point and we hadn’t had any breakfast) but failed miserably so pulled over to make a plan. It is rare you can stop the vehicle without people coming over to talk to you, and this time was no different. A young guy in a scooter pulled over and began telling us that he collected coins/money and opened his wallet to very proudly show us an English ten pound note and then a coin explaining its whole history too (1929 coin from the British Raj, a half ruppee coin, with George V on it). You can’t be fed up or irritated by these encounters because everyone is always so happy to talk and smiley and welcoming. Even if you were in a bad mood, you won’t be after chatting with the locals. So with empty stomachs and no sign of a breakfast or lunch stop, we carried on to Gatpatipule where we hoped to find somewhere to eat and stay. Unfortunately the town was like a funfair, with lots of Indian families clearly on holiday. It was very busy, and although we found a hotel with blissful, well kept gardens, the rooms were like prison cells and filthy too. We grabbed some pakoras from the restaurant and decided to risk it driving another hour south to Ratnagiri. It was 5pm at that point and the sun sets at 7pm so we crossed our fingers for no breakdowns or half built roads. We saw another hotel that looked ok from the road, on the way, but that turned out to be pretty miserable when we drove up the drive way to it. It turns out India is holding nationwide elections over the course of 2 months, with different districts voting at different times. During these times, there is a district wide alcohol ban. They are called dry days and are the 2 days leading up to, and the actual day of, the election, on the 23rd April. This means that wherever we stay, there will be no beer, which may have explained last nights failed mission too. We carried on going, and with only one small navigation hiccup, where we missed the turn off to the bridge and ended up in a very small, narrow, village under the sealink, we got to Ratnagiri about 5 minutes before it got dark. The hotel we drove to was very odd. Entering through gates opened by a security guard, we drove about 200m down a track with abandoned old holiday cottages sprawling on each side. There was even an old rusty horse carriage (the ones they pull on the beach) crumbling by the side of the path too. It looked like a Call of Duty location or a set from a paint balling game. At the end of this small road was the reception, that was completely normal and next to it, 2 lovely metal gates, that led out to the same main road we had come in on, but they had been bricked up with breeze blocks. Why!? Why send all your guests in past the sketchy derelict horror movie scene when they could arrive straight at reception through the old metal gates? Classic India. The restaurant was empty, apart from an Indian family that all sat in their phones playing computer games next to us. The food was great and instead of a beer, we treated ourselves to coconut water served straight from large green coconuts, and ‘Brownie sizzlers’, brownies served on a hot plate. Again why would that be something they do here!? Well, because why not?
Charlie
21st of April and day 8 of our mission began with a slow start to catch up on sleep and avoid any potential hangovers. We met in the hotel restaurant at 8.30, had breakfast and were on the road by 9.15. Tom drove us out of Mumbai, a hot, smelly drive with so much pollution we could see a smog around the city as we drove over the flyovers. We had one other unpleasant traffic light encounter with a man begging for money. He was just wearing a sarong type thing and was covered in burns and asking very persistently for money. As the rickshaw is completely open, and we had to wait at the traffic lights, there wasn’t much we could do and Tom got most of the prodding this time. Still, 3 unwanted encounters out of 11 days here is pretty amazing, and never scary, just desperate people. We drove out of the city and through an area with hundreds of trucks. It was very dusty. We met a few more people on our way in the morning who wanted photos and who we asked to sign the rickshaw (we carry a big black permanent pen with us). My turn driving today consisted of 2 hours of very bumpy roadworks. Then Chris took the wheel and drove us up through the mountains and down into a little fishing village. It was amazing to see all the women out on the mudflats and beaches collecting, gathering and drying out fish and shells and probably something else but we weren’t sure what. We saw Jaijera fort and asked where the ferry went from. We got pointed in a direction which turned out to be a dead end (we forgot our rule of 3 - always ask 3 people and then go with the majority) and then told 5km in text opposite direction. Finally we found the ferry, just as it pulled away, arg! We waited an hour, bought some cold drinks and chatted with some locals who loved looking at our rickshaw, then we drove onto the ferry. Just as the ticket man came round, Tom dropped the ticket and it fluttered around on the floor before flying off the back of the boat. I was hunched over laughing at the sight of Tom crawling/hopping around in the floor and ending up crouched in front of a group of Indian men. He stood up and everyone was laughing. Off the ferry we only had a 30 minute drive to ‘Exotica beach resort’. The man at the hotel might as well have gone and made the paper he was using to get us checked in - it took that long. 20 minutes later I politely asked him if we could finish later as we were about to miss the sunset on the beach. 100m walk away, we found the beach and it couldn’t have summed up India more. People quad biking, buying ice creams, having horse rides, banana boating and paragliding behind jeeps (yep, that makes for a relaxing beach trip) and all happening in the same 100m sq, when there’s a whole beach to use!! It all looked super sketchy but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and the sunset was beautiful. We walked back to our hotel, finished checking in and then found out our hotel didn’t have an alcohol license (another thing to add to our list of things to ask hotels before we check in: do you have private parking, can we get out if we leave really early, do you sell beer). Knowing the roads around the hotel we decided to go out in the rickshaw in the dark, manned with head torches as extra side lights to make us more visible. We found out that due to elections no one is allowed to serve alcohol today or tomorrow. We tested this explanation about 4 times, going into different hotels and restaurants. One advertised a rain dance on its poster and we were not disappointed as we drove in to see this spectacle! Indian families dancing to loud Bollywood music under a canopy that was pouring water down. Everyone was singing along and laughing and getting entirely soaked through in all their clothes. We thought this must be entertainment inspired by the rain scenes in Bollywood films. Finally we succumbed to no beer and went back to the hotel for dinner and a Coca Cola. Chris lost at cards lots of times and then we went to bed.
Charlie
Day 5 began with a 5.30am wake up before meeting our driver at 6am. We drove right up to the mountain/temple turn off but again we’re stopped by the police, now saying that no cars could go up the mountain and that we would have to go and get a bus. The driver took us to the bus station where we boarded a very big, busy bus (along with some goats on leads) and a few minutes later we were swinging up the mountain hair pin bends. We paid 15p for our tickets and enjoyed a 15 minute journey with the whole bus staring at us. We were definitely the only tourists to be doing this pilgrimage. We were dropped off half way up the mountain and saw hundreds of shacks and stalls selling more red flags and ribbons and fabric, some selling sweets and toys, places to have your photograph taken and jewellery stalls, kind of like what you’d see at a fair ground. We found the entrance to the cable car and hopped on one, right to the top of the mountain. Wen we got off we followed the lines of people to some steps. Sitting at the base of the steps, on the floor, was an old woman with her hands in the prayer position and a flip flop in her mouth. Thousands of pairs of shoes lined the sides of the path so we removed ours too, had a red paint dot smudged in our foreheads and followed the crowds up the steps. Every now and again someone would shout something and everyone would chant a few lines in unison. Once at the top we were directed through the temple by metal railings. Everyone was singing and chanting and touching the floor and the top of the doors. It was really intense and unfamiliar but pretty incredible. Then we were out on the mountain, walking back down, jumped on the cable car and another bus and finally found our driver waiting at the bottom. He took us back to the hotel where we had some breakfast (masala omelettes) and packed up. I took the driving seat, driving out past hundreds of families all living in the fields with cows and goats and corn and small concrete shacks. About 2 hours later we arrived at the Statue of Unity, the biggest statue in the world, and it was very impressive. Looking out of the haze, nestled in mountains and overlooking a dam and lake, the statue is of Gandhi’s friend, who united many nations and talked about community and helping others. Chris and I decided to walk a little closer whilst Tom stayed with the rickshaw and all our stuff. It became evident as we got closer, that Chris and I were now the tourist attraction. Definitely the most ridiculous we’ve had it so far, we were not able to walk about 10 steps without someone asking for a selfie, a photo with their family or child, and at one point a man was trying to give me his toddler to take a photo with. Most of the time the children don’t really understand (check out the face of the boy I’m having a photo with, cracks us up every time we look at it!). The detail on the statue was beautiful with cross hatching on his waistcoat, stitching on his sandals and wrinkles in his skin and trousers. After another mobbing of photographs, as we attempted to buy an ice cream but couldn’t make it to the counter for people surrounding us, Tom drive the next section. The normal chaos and 3 person team driving continued, with numerous people hailing us down for photos, and 2 hours later Chris swapped into the driving seat and completed our journey into Navsari where we found...Hotel Fun City (we had to drive the wrong way up a motorway slip road to get to it though which didn’t start the stay in too much of a fun way!). We checked in, whilst singing the theme tune to Funhouse and the beach boys ‘Fun Fun Fun’, and then went down to dinner where there was about 12 people employed in a restaurant with no one in it. Surrounded by people serving you and topping up your water and taking away your napkin if you even touch your fingers on it, we ate and had ice cream rolls at the next door ‘51 Rainbow’ and then went to bed. Now that was fun!
Day 4 was a smooth day, well comparatively with the day before anyway. We woke up early at the hotel, to find we were locked in. We could get down to the main door but we couldn’t get out. After wondering through all the staff areas, the kitchens and the restaurant, Chris managed to find someone on asleep on the roof who came down and let us out. Then the rickshaw wouldn’t start. We checked the spark plug again, and this time changed the fuel filter too, pumped the ignition for about 20 minutes, and then we were off (not before I had nearly crashed it until the central barrier of the road outside!). As the sunrise over the fields around us, and the glowing orange sky got brighter, our gear lever fell off... The left handle bar (our gear lever) literally fell over, just pulled out of its socket. Chris opened up the handle bar casing, and using one of my hair pins, jammed it in place and off we went, my curvy grip holding the handle bar in place perfectly. At about 9am, having not eaten any breakfast, we stopped in Modasa to try and find some food. We drove around, found a green, calm little hotel resort but no food. Finally we found ‘Honest’, and had some club sandwiches on the side of the road, Tom choosing the garlic bonanza, which Chris and I found an interesting choice when stuck in a small rickshaw together! We drove along the motorway after that for a while until we reached Godra, where we stopped in a garage, replaced our exhaust bolt (which keeps wiggling itself loose and falling out) and enjoyed some colonial banter with the local guys, again a group of people who refused payment for their help when we left. We headed towards Champaner, an archeological site and place of worship and pilgrimage. It was easy to know when were getting close, the roads and paved were lined with people walking with flags, some who had walked from 200 miles away. We attempted to turn up the mountain, towards the temple at the top and to where the hotel was, but we were swiftly stopped by the police. ‘No go’ they said. They didn’t speak English but were definitely not letting us through, so we pulled in across the road. A man approached us carrying a video camera and asked if he could film an interview for India News. The fact that we are like celebrities here, still hasn’t got normal. Tom and Chris were filmed being asked about how they like India (he asked that several times) and then he explained that because of the number plate of the rickshaw (Kerala), and they support a different political party from Gujarat, they weren’t letting us in. Not wanting to leave the rickshaw unattended, and now with more curiosity from the police, they told us to drive it into their secure area, so we could speak to the hotel. Tom went off on the India News guys motorbike, leaving Chris and I for half an hour with the very inquisitive police. When Tom returned he said there was no way the rickshaw would make it up the hill anyway so we needed a new plan. The police pointed us in a direction and soon we were driving down back streets, through the countryside to come across Champaner Resort Hotel. Win! It was amazing! We swam in the pool, played ‘Mango ball’ and tried to buy illegal beers (we’re still in a dry state), but to no avail. Tom did manage to arrange a driver, who is allowed to drive up the mountain, to come and collect us at 6am for a sunrise drive up the mountain to the temple for the next morning though. Dinner was delicious and the guy who ran the hotel was so friendly. He chatted to us about Hinduism and taught us loads about the caste system here, before we headed to bed.
This morning of day 3 we had a lie in until 7.30am! We ate breakfast in the hotel and Chris and Tom went on a mini mission trying to find some more oil and cash, whilst also taking in some of the sights of Udipur. Tom then drove us out through the city, with everyone looking at us, as always, and soon we were on a dirt track, bumping over potholes and avoid sand banks. It started raining really hard so we stopped under a tree and waited for the rain to pass. Then we started driving up into the mountains. The landscape was amazing. From the tops of the hills you could see fields and villages and people busy in both, all the women wearing beautiful clothes whilst working so hard. All the families were running out of their houses and we shouted and waved at so many children, all so curious and excited to see us. We stopped in a very small hilltop village to get our tyres pumped up as we saw a man had an air compressor and most of the village crowded round to see us. Whilst the houses at the start of the day had been made of clay, as we drove on, they turn to stone buildings, all very simple, just one room. As the buildings changed, so did the landscape and we were soon in a much greener, more luscious area, although still very dry. It was easy to see what it would look like in the wet season though, with riverbeds and dried up lake beds all around us. I began driving and as we came out of one town, we saw 2 brightly painted orange rickshaws and knew they were rickshaw runners too. We slowed down and saw one of them had broken down. We slowed down but they had a guy helping them so we carried on, following a man on a moped who said he’d lead us on the way to our next destination. A few minutes later, the road he was leading us on, turned to a tiny dirt track weaving between houses and we thought maybe here had been a miscommunication. We stopped following him and turned around. When we got back to the junction the orange tuk tuks weren’t there so we went the only other route and soon saw them on the road ahead. They were stopped, checking if they were going the right way, so we overtook them. That was when the rain started. If we thought that wasn’t enough of a challenge, the broken tarmac road just stopped and became a deep mud building site track. We attempted it but got stuck. After hailing down a huge JCB, and some quick bowline knots from Chris, our little rickshaw, with Chris inside steering, was being dragged through the mud with Tom and I running behind, up to our ankles in sludge. We were back on the road (if you can call it that) again but with grey skies above us, the wind picking up, very little fuel, and the last of the light disappearing. Finally we got to the larger road we had been waiting for and as it began to rain again, we tried to find somewhere to stay. We weren’t going to make it to our original destination. First we found a derelict hotel, then we found a hotel that had not yet quite been finished but we went in anyway. They welcomed us in and it seemed we were the first ones to stay there. Once in our rooms, we took our shoes off to reveal our muddy (and in my case blue, because of my sandals) feet. We sat down and ordered some food. A beer would have gone down nicely, but we were in a dry state... Then all the lights went out. There was a black out. There was a power cut. Now it was time to laugh. How many more things in one day! Turns out the food, that we ordered under the torch lights from our phones, was great. We walked to the nearby petrol station in the dark after dinner, filled up with fuel and went to bed. We planned on an early getaway in the morning.
Day one began with a 6.30am breakfast, ready to leave at 7am for the start line. The hype and buzz was amazing as we entered the palace and saw all the other teams loading up their rickshaws. After a huge group photo we set off at about 8.30am. Chris took the lead, driving us out of Jaisalmer, which was hectic but relatively straight forward after some wrong turns and directions from the local firemen (I think I only say straight forward now because I can compare it to the rest of the drive!). Chris drive the first 2 hours, stopping to take a break in a road side cafe where the people there sat on a bench staring at us whilst we drank our 'Thums up' (Pepsi). Then it was Tom's turn. The roads were wide by this point but the cars go fast and the motorbikes (each with 3 people on at least) curb crawl us which makes it slightly off putting! After a stop at a petrol station, it was my turn. We hit a few small towns at this point where, if there were roads rules, they really did go out the window with cars and motorbikes and tractors driving down both sides of the road! After my 2 hour shift, Chris took the driving seat to get us into Johdpur. I dont know if I can even describe the next hour. Winding streets, so many people, camels in the road, people shouting, mopeds everywhere, straight through the middle of a market, dogs asleep in the middle of the road, men pushing our rickshaw to move us out the way. Chris did an amazing job and we found our beautiful little haven in the middle of the chaos.
That night we were driven around the city where there was a huge festival going on. The colours, sounds, smells, people and dancing was amazing (but we were definitely ready to head back to our hotel and go to bed!).
Charlie
