Beached as

So we're now beached about 40 k's inland without a grain of sand or wave in sight, waiting for a fuel filter that will (touch wood) allow us to travel more than 100m up a hill at a time without having to take a 5 minute break. But the last two days have made up for it. Beaches, chai, forgotten forts, chai, every person we pick up for a three or four kilometre journey has either a story, a stunned expression for the full 10 minutes or some pretty damn good bell bottoms and polyester shirts. Chai. Incredibly, when we've rolled away from a huge crumbling Portuguese fort strangled by Banyan trees and battered by waves, a run down and unused Ottoman palace comes at us, followed by massive lichen covered domes of Mohommedean tombs. We're only 150 k's from Mumbai but we're well off the the main trail, these things aren't sign posted and don't appear on the map. 

It is possible that we're coming last though. Our route has turned into a detour and the concept of a "race" only nags at our minds like the idea to wash our hair. Maybe when we reach the finish line we'll buy some shampoo. Not really sure when that'll be.