DAY 7

**PATNA TO VARANASI**

0445 was an early alarm call by anyones standards but we were keen to get on the road and get some miles under our belt.  Our enthusiasm was only sightly dented by it taking 20 mins to get our engine started, but it was a great run out of the city which was only just starting to stir.

With kid leather gloves, we caressed our new and improved 'shaw along the NH30 towards Varanasi, not wanting to do anything that might induce a breakdown of any sort.  The engine was purring like a kitten and we were smugly ticking off the miles and enjoying the view as we went along our merry way.

About 100 km in we stopped for a refuel under a nice shady tree next to a small village.  Imagine our surpise when we came to leave and couldn't get the engine going again.  The usual charade of semi professional spark plug gazers ensued but to no avail. 

 

After about 3 hrs pulling everything apart, cleaning, blowing, cursing, checking and reassembling again, we had practically been adopted by the village.  Eventually, in desperation, they flagged a passing pickup truck and with about 25 people pushing, pulling and shouting, we got the thing up onto the truck and we were off again - 10km back up the road we had just come from to the nearest garage.  We have had some strange looks on this journey so far but none quite as strange as when we were all sat in our usual seats riding the Tuk on the back of a lorry!  The village we arrived at was your typical lawless Bihar hangout but with an army of eager volunteers to help us dismount our steed from it's temporary home.  After a quick spark plug change (unbelievable this was actually the problem this time) we were encouraged on our way in a far too energetic manner which to us spelt impending doom.  So with wheels spinning, sort of, we left the building crowds and headed back up the oh so familiar road.

Ater promising ourselves that we would never go nocturnal again, the draw from Varanasi was enough to instigate another night driving session in the rain.  Out torches and eyes on stalks!

 

 

DAY 6

**Patna**

Having paid so much for a hotel room we decided not to get up at 5am to make it to the next stop but instead, treat our Tuk to some TLC.  We knew of a dedicated rickshaw repair shop in town and took it there for a full 'service' again, with only the medium of mime to describe various clunks and shakes we were concerned about. 

 

 The location left a little to be desired, but 3 hrs later we had an absolutely perfect machine - even the headlight was fixed.  Happy, we headed back to our hotel for beer and pizza and a stint on the internet updating the blog.

Tomorrow is an early start for a long trek across badlands towards Varanassi, but at least we now have a chariot we can believe in.

 

DAY 5

**Khagaria to Patna**

 

Waiting in the luxurious lobby for the taxi 

The taxi we thought was going to pick us up at 10 failed to show, so at 1030 AJ and Jon walked across to the train station to see what we could muster there.  There were no autorickshaws there (our preferred method of transport) so we stepped over the large dead rat towards the Jeep taxi (our mortal enemies on the road).  Lengthy and detailed negotiations took place with neither party understanding a word of eachothers language, but the crowd of 40 or so onlookers this attracted had the potential to turn ugly, so we jumped in the back and yelled "Drive!".

When we got back to the garage, our Tuk was out on its test run and it came back fully serviceable.  Countless hours labour (all night?), another piston, rings etc and some clutch plates... and the bill? 50pence.  We gave them 500 Rupees (about 7 quid) and were waved off the forecourt like favoured children heading out into the big wide world.

Out on the open road, breeze in our hair (well, Sweyn and Jons hair), things were looking up. For a while...

10km or so down the road there was a splutter.  We all looked at eachother a little concerned but this was practically a new engine - nothing could possibly be wrong with it, could it?  We decided to ignore it, but it happened again, then again, until we came to a grinding halt.  Stranded at the side of the road again.

 

To cut a long story short - this happened about 5 times, each time various locals, passers by and crowds that materialised from nowhere in the most remote stretches of road, went through the same charade of taking our plug out, wiping it clean, smiling triumphantly then telling us to give it a go.  It was during one of these latter processes that we realised the oil the garage had put into our fuel to help bed in the new piston was engine oil not 2 stroke.  Having gone through everything else we could think of, we decided this was preventing our combustion process and we decided to drain our tank of this dirty oil and refil with our jerry can of good, 2 stroke infused petrol.  Letting our fuel drain out onto the verge induced near hysteria with the locals who ran off to fetch a selection of bottles, water bottles, buckets and other vessels to collect this crazy white man fuel we were wasting.  It was very difficult to explain what we were doing through the medium of mime, but we carried on regardless and eventually managed to get the engine running again and we limped off, hoping the residual oil would burn itself off and we would get progressively better.  Sadly, this was not to be.

After a few miles of limping we ground to a halt again.  As before, within minutes we had a small appreciative crowd, one of which said (after going through the whole spark plug routine - we'd given up trying to disuade people at that stage) there was a garage a few km up the road.  We limped there at walking speed and it was there, finally, after at least 10 people had pretended to 'fix' our problem, we met someone who actually knew something about rickshaw engines.  Within 5 minutes, he had taken our carbouretta apart, reseated the little brass screw rolling around in the bottom and the engine was singing like a bell.

By this stage it was 1530 and we had a long road ahead to get to Patna - our next stop.  Taking great care not to overwork our precious little, sweet running motor, we put the hammer (three quarters of the way) down.  The route was easy running, right up to the point where it got dark.  And the monsoon rains started.  Oh and the lights and wiper failed.  Most importantly of all, the horn broke.  But, through dilligent risk assessment, professional teamwork honed through a lifetime of operating in similar demanding environments, we manged to safely negotiate our way to Patna where those lovely guys from Raiders of the Lost Tuk had booked us the most expensive hotel in town.  Hungry, wet, tired and with empty adrenal glands we had the best tasting curry and beer we'd had for a long time.

 

DAY 4

**Purnia to Khagaria (not exactly where we planned to stop...)**

Early start today - on the road for 0545.  Made excellent progress towards Patna - our planned night stop for day 4. Our new petrol cap was gone as well when we stopped to refuel an hour later.

Just before lunch, our Tuk started losing power (and not because we are a bunch of fat tukkers, before anyone comments).  On inspection, it turned out our piston ring had disintegrated and been eaten by our cylinder and piston.  This is not good for progress.  Luckily, we were in company with another 2 teams, one of whom towed us 2km to the nearest service station (another piece of luck) who had a mechanic to look at our situation.  After doing all the things we had been doing by the roadside for the last hour (clean /replace spark plug, check spark, check fuel, check air/fuel filter etc etc) they started digging a little deeper and pulling the engine apart. 

 

**Jonny pretending to know what he is doing...**

 The piston head was a mess (I have kept it as a paper weight) and the cylinder was pretty badly damaged too.  But, as we looked at eachother with a 'this is going to cost us' look, they rushed off on a motor bike, coming back 45 mins later with a freshly rebored head, a new piston and various new rings and gaskets.  While the team set to work, we had a rather basic lunch cooked by an old man in a nappy over an open fire, and enjoyed the sights, sounds and smells of a rural Indian service station.

             

**We chose the chef's special                                                   Yummy**

As we were waiting, a school bus coasted in full of children.  They happily played in the coartyard while their bus was examined before finally being pronounced dead 2 hours later.  Half an hour after that a Tuk Tuk pulled up and all 19 of them got into and onto it.  The last to get in had to be posted in horizontally into any bit of free space.  Remarkable.  Then they all waved cheerily as I filmed them chugging off down the road.

5 hours later and our steed was ready to roll.  We took the bill with a heavy heart.  A cyllinder rebore, new piston, gaskets, oil, carbouretta tune and various other bits and pieces, along with 5 hours labour in the Indian sun came to 15 UK pounds.  Astonishing.  It was almost a tearful faiwell as we motored back out onto the road and we were a little sad that we would never see our new friends again.

 

2km down the road and our new engine decided to eat itself, taking the clutch out with it.

Hmm, this was a problem.  It was nearly 5pm, we had a very broken Tuk, an increasingly large crowd of onlookers and were vulnerably stranded on the edge of Khagaria (which is not a particularly savoury town, even by Indian standards).  Luckily, one of the many people who stopped to stare offered us a lift on his motor bike back to the garage (one of Sweyns most scary 5 minutes of his life) and within half an hour we had our engine apart again in the dirty roadside, inches away from psychopathic bus and lorry drivers.

The Tuk was going nowhere that night so they towed it back to their garage and we got a lift to the hotel where we were too scared to venture out and had room service and the rest of our duty free vodka, then settled into a night of 3 in a bed, no aircon.  Tomorrow, surely, will bring better luck.

 

 

Day 3

**Silliguri to Purnia**

Early start for a long day in the Tuk.  Lots of miles covered today and we learned to love the sound of a tiny 2 stroke, 7HP engine at wide open throttle.  This was not helped by the exhaust springing a leak at the manifold which made it sound like a rasping machine gun.

We rolled into Purnia at about 3 and stopped at the first (only) hotel we saw.  Lets just say it's not the sort of place you would go for a holiday...  After going out for an evening stroll to find a 7-up and internet cafe, we learnt that foreigners were not allowed out after dark for their own safety.  We decided to take room service that night and enjoyed plentiful cheap curry and roti with Kingfisher beers.

We managed to find a petrol cap for the Tuk to replace the one we left on the roof at the start line (can't believe it fell off somewhere down the mountain...).

 

DAY 2

First leg - Gangtok to Silliguri.  The day started with an early rise followed by some sort of civic ceremony while we waited for the big flag-off.  Somehow we managed to get pole position on the grid which was lost immediately with an engine that wouldn't start on the grid.  6 places lost but we soon regained our natural position at the front, an amazing feat considering Sweyn had left the handbrake on for the first 2 hours...


 

The road off the mountain was narrow, treacharous, slippery, washed away in places by monsson rain and populated by maniacs in jeeps.  Your basic TukTuk nightmare.  Luckily, we survived the perilous drops and made it to the flats and on to Silliguri.

Found a cheap hotel, wandered off into town for a cheap curry in a back street restaurant and saw cockroaches as big as your hand.  Our walk back to the hotel again was highlighted by the views of people squatting on the river bank for a very public shit into the river.  Lovely.

The guys from Raiders of the Lost Tuk partook of our offer of duty free Vodka and to chat about a game plan for the next day, then it was early to bed for a long Day 3.