MEETING TALLULAH

The dust storm flared up a few times throughout the night and so when I awoke it was no surprise to find a thin coating of dust over everything that was within 1 metre of the window. I’m glad that I had closed the curtains. Who knows how much more dust would have come in other wise. A nice early morning walk enabled me to discover fresh piles of cow shit, dust being swept away by hunched over old, frail Indian women, and Indian men cleaning their teeth and spitting the waste over the beautifully polished 12th century cobblestones. The purpose of my walk was to find a geocache and it came as absolutely no surprise to see that it was missing. I replaced the cache then turned around to see an Indian woman asking me to take her photo. She stood in the doorway of her home looking glum and patiently waited. I was pretty hesitant knowing full well where this was heading but stupidly obliged. The pic actually isn’t too bad, but as soon as the shutter went ‘click’; out shot her hand. She demanded 50 Rp (approx. $1) I wasn’t really in the mood for paying for a picture I didn’t really want so I replied with 20 Rp. 50 Rp came the reply. I put 30 Rp in her hand and said that is I all have. The look of absolute disgust was clearly etched into her face… funnily enough, I found this look quite amusing. After this it was back to the hotel for some breakfast.

Sitting in my room getting ready to head down to the palace to see the start venue, I heard a terrible ruckus. It was the sound of dogs barking, growling and yelping in pain, very loudly. I got up to have a look to see a pack of about 10 feral dogs attacking two others. One managed to get away so they then all turned on the one that was left. It was a ferocious attack, the deafening yelps attracting the attention of shopkeepers and stopping people driving past. They started throwing rocks, but none of this helped. By now I was sure that the poor dog in the middle was going to be ripped to shreds. People were shouting and screaming at the dogs to stop. Suddenly, out of the blue, a cow stepped in to break it up. It was using its horns to push the attacking mob away. As soon as this happened, the fight was over. The dog being attacked limped off and the rest pulled back. I honestly thought that the poor dog in the middle was surely going to be killed, but then the cow stepped up and it was all finished.

Soon after the dog fight we caught a rickshaw to the Jawas Palace, where the official event HQ is based. Now this moment is where the slate is wiped clean. This was, without any shadow of doubt, absolutely and completely the scariest ride in any motorised form of transport that I have ever had. This made the old Mad Mouse at the Adelaide Show look like a sedate drive in the country with old Auntie Ethel. We tore down through the narrow cobblestone laneways of the fort like it was some Red Bull sponsored urban race. We missed cows, motorbikes, humans, walls and other rickshaws with millimetres; not inches, millimetres to spare. I think at one stage we may have even kissed the arse of a cow. This really was scary stuff. In my 20 years of rallying, almost nothing has come close… suffice to say, that if the paint on this rickshaw was any thicker, we would have been hitting shit left, right and centre.

After about 10 manic minutes of absolute mayhem, complete with a crook Gaynor, we arrived at the palace. We paid the driver, and headed off to look for Tallulah. We soon found her, looking great, painted medium blue and emblazoned with Kangaroos… and dust. We checked her over closely. Would she possibly be able to get us to Shillong, 3000 km away? After shaking our heads in disbelief about what we were going to do, we went and registered with the organisers and filled in the necessary paperwork. We soon had the keys and were starting her with ease. We attended the optional mechanical talks and learnt a bit more about how these tired old two stroke machines work. I feel reasonably comfortable that I could repair one well enough to keep going when needed. I guess I’ll soon find out how true that is. Next we did some test driving. I found it to be pretty easy considering that I had ridden motorcycles before, but some found it all very confusing. There were some folks here who had never even used a clutch. Tim and Gaynor, both newbies to hand clutches, got the hang of it all pretty quickly, which was great. We did dozens of laps of the compound; crunching gears, over-revving, and trying our best to get it bogged and burn out the clutch. After a few hours practice, we all had a reasonable understanding of how it all worked. We passed our driving tests, made a funnel out of rubbish we found lying around, ran the fuel tank dry twice, added all the extra stickers and stars and helped a few others who were battling with clutches.

At about 3 PM it was starting to get pretty hot and uncomfortable, so we retreated back to the cool of the hotel. The rickshaw ride back was far more sedate. Lunch at the Killa Corner Café was superb, Killa, in these parts means ‘fort’, so this roughly equated to the café at the corner of the fort. Simple enough. Evening bought out the camera for some city pics as the light was changing and becoming more subtle. We met a brother-sister team from Australia on the rooftop too. You would never believe it, but their mother lives in Port MacDonnell! Small world.

While taking some pics of the changing, evening light of the city, some lightning was noticed, in the distance. We continued to chat but soon realised that the lightning was getting more intense and the thunder was getting louder. The wind was starting to pick up resulting in dust starting to be blown around. It started to get very blustery on the top of the fort so we all retreated into the stillness of my room. A few minutes later a massive electrical storm blew in. The wind tore through the rubbish on the streets, spreading piles of junk like a tornado. By this stage the lightning was almost constant and the accompanying thunder loud. Then the rain came. It bucketed down, turning all of the dust into a coating of mud. It poured, with the wind forcing the rain through the gaps in the window, resulting in a small river running across the floor. Still it hammered on; brilliant displays of incredible lightning, pounding rain and howling wind. At one stage, while we were peering out of the window, a lightning bolt lit up the entire sky, blackening out the town at the same instant. Fortunately the hotel had backup battery power so we still had light. This was the most insane storms that I have ever seen.

So we sat around, listening to Steel Panther, Lorde, Lily Allen and Knife Party while mopping up the mess of grotty water on my floor, removing the already soaked cushions, painting my toe nails blue and orange, writing shopping lists for the next morning and eating Aloo Jez…yummy mild curry potatoes with spices and roti. Once the storm had passed we went back upstairs to the roof to see the stars. To see the clear sky and feel the cool breeze was quite surreal considering that an hour ago it was if the gates of Hell had been opened. I could see Orion looking the right way up and not the upside down Saucepan that I had been used to my entire life. I bought the camera up and took some time exposures while the power was dead and the moon was out. We stood around in the cool, still air while chatting, looking at the scene below us, taking in the smell of pungent re-invigorated urea and freshly rained on earth, the sounds of blaring horns and mooing cows, and the look of a usually bright city mostly enveloped in darkness.

Wow… what a day, what a night and what a storm!

JAISALMER FORT

The Rickshaw from the station to the fort was a welcome change. It only cost 100 Rp without having to endure in mindless haggling, and he was a great driver. Finally we arrived at Jaisalmer Fort. Made completely of sandstone in the 12th Century, it really is an impressive looking place. It is also home to 3000 residents and a mindboggling array of tight cobblestone alleyways lined with homes, shops, rickshaws, touts, temples, ‘art emporiums’, cow shit, motorcycles, rubbish and more cow shit. Despite all this is it is still an amazing place to go for a walk to just soak in the atmosphere and imagine what life was like here hundreds of years ago. Some of the stone carving work was intricately detailed and incredibly smooth. In all, amazing considering that it was all done, completely by hand.

Finally, after much sweating and elevated heart rates as we were carrying all of our gear, we arrived at the Hotel Victoria. It is a quaint little place, with a multi-leveled maze of corridors, stairs and rooms. The hotel is built into the side walls of the old fort and so the view is nothing short of extraordinary. There is also a roof top area where you can eat, drink or just chill out. It is a perfect place for taking pics of the sunset, listening to the symphony of car horns, barking dogs and jiggering Hindi. I had a standard room while Tim and Gaynor were updated into a deluxe room for 3 of the 4 nights. After unloading our gear, drinking some cool water and chatting to the owner, we headed out to check out the fort. There really was so much to photograph and so much to see.

By around 3 PM we were starting to get a little peckish so we headed to the ‘Om’ restaurant where a ‘bloody great view’ was promised. It was an interesting little place, up on a rooftop, complete with diabolical smelling toilet and lukewarm drinks. Still, lunch was reasonably cheap and tasty. The usual assortment of curries, naan breads and drinks were consumed before settling the bill and deciding to head back to our room. We had a mild misunderstanding with management as we were given too much change. After sorting this out it was back to the room for a rest. After a light two hour snooze (to catch up from the train) we went up the roof top to watch the sunset.

We sat, watched and chatted while the sun slowly sunk further into the western sky. I t was really quite surreal. Still quite warm, we could see quite a way into the distance. Wind farm turbines dotted the horizon as did a large radar dome; presumably watching over Pakistan. The sun disappeared well before it reached the horizon, and it was hard to tell if it was from the smog, dust or cloud. Slowly the lights of the city below us began to light up and soon enough darkness had enveloped all. We met up with a few other runners from Canada and had a few drinks while they waited for their new found friends to arrive. Soon enough there was a mix of Australian, Canadian and Norwegian all sitting down, laughing and getting to know each other. An old Indian musician came up and started playing his sitar adding to the atmosphere of the night.

Not long after we decided to get some dinner. Just as we were getting up to change to a larger table, I glanced over at the horizon, and noticed a dark cloud. The cloud looked formidable and seemed to moving rather quickly. It only took another quick glance to realise that we were about to be hit with a massive, fast dust storm. We all bolted, and some 30 seconds later, everything was consumed by the stinging dust. The old musician sat there, looking perplexed, as we took off, probably wondering if it was the music or something we’d eaten. It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, so in all reality was probably only a small storm.

Gaynor, Tim and I all sat around in my room chatting about random stuff, watching the lights of Jaisalmer through the window, as they faded and brightened while the intensity of the storm changed several times. Once the bulk of the dust storm had cleared, we went back up to the rooftop, where the rest were partying along merrily. We joined back in on the laughter, stories, eating and drinking… we were all there, joined at this moment, for the purpose of driving a glorified lawnmower across the entire Indian subcontinent. What the fuck were we thinking?

OVERNIGHT IN TRAIN NUMBER 14659: THE DELHI JAISALMER EXPRESS.

Finally we arrived at the station, tipped the driver 100 Rp (I think for getting us there alive!) and made our way into the station. The assembled throng eyed us closely as we sought to find where on earth in the station the train would be leaving from. We found our platform and sat down to take a breather. The events of the last few hours had left us a little frazzled. As the train pulled in we watched the grab, punch and pull fights happening in front of us as the passengers in cattle class were jostling to get the best seat. We stocked up on food and water and sat down inside AC2 class… sleeper class with air conditioning.

Pulling out of Delhi was quite moving. There were lots of kids all over the place, sifting through rubbish to find that something special with a little value. People were sitting around in groups, washing drying in the late afternoon sun, stretched between rusty old power poles and dead trees. Cricket was the game of the day with little matches being played all over the place. The slums that we passed were a mixture of rubbish, old torn tarpaulins and bricks. At one stage the slums extended almost as far as you could see. The people who lived along and around the railway lines were constantly out of the window… for more than an hour, until we left the last of Delhi’s suburbia. All three of us were left feeling quite down and despondent for the railway people, and the terribly sad lives that is more than likely all they know. Life to death surrounded by filth, squalor and the endless piles of rubbish and excrement.

Once away from the metropolis, the train gathered some speed and we settled into a night of bumps, rattles, tooting horns and the sounds of people talking and snoring. One member of the group, who shall remain nameless, went to use the toilet… no mean feat on a rough and bumpy Indian train with nothing but a squat toilet. This anonymous person decided to try out her ‘shewee’, a device for matching the appendages of males and making the act of stand-up toileting a real prospect. Unfortunately the aforementioned device wasn’t installed properly resulting in shewee all over the place. Suffice to say that the resulting clean up made for very wet pants. During the night we all attempted to get some sleep. Some of us did this more successfully than others. The train bumped and clacked on through the night, at times holding a constant speed for what seemed like ages, and then stopping every 10 minutes, after barely getting past a crawl. Every time that I woke and looked out the window there were lights. Cars, trucks, houses and shops… sometimes they were quite distant and other times quite close. At one time I even saw a few stars. I woke at around 2 AM to discover that my bum bag had been undone from around my waist. Fortunately I had purchased a decent theft proof bag prior to leaving, so it had been held in place by the stainless steel cable that runs through the whole thing. I don’t know if I had undone it trying to get comfortable during the night, or if someone else had attempted to take it. Either way, it felt a little unnerving and I was glad that I had invested in the secure bag.

With the morning light came more people on the train and the call of chai. I’m not much for drinking coffee or tea and the chai that I have tried back home was foul. This chai however was heaven sent. My taste buds sung out in chorus at the magnificent taste of spice and sugar, something sadly lacking in Australian chai. Suffice to say, that the coming weeks will be regularly interspersed with real Indian chai.

The further west we headed the drier and more remote things seemed to be. There was still a lot of powerlines in the distance, barbed wire fences, goats, roads and camels. The landscape was dotted with occasional wind farms with only 5 or 6 turbines, and low lying hills. Trees and shrubs were starting to become more sparse as was the rubbish. Finally, Jaisalmer came into sight. You could see the fort from miles away. Yeehaa!

SIGHTS, SOUNDS AND SCAMS… WELCOME TO DELHI

The day started well, in fact it started very smoothly. We woke and went and had our buffet breakfast at the café adjoining the Hotel. 250 Rp for an all you can eat buffet breaky. We all ordered something from the menu. No idea what it was bit we tried it all anyway. I had something… the name has gone now… which was semolina with some random spices. It certainly had an interesting taste. Tim had Parantha which was a kind of thick fried bread and Idli; semolina dumplings in a mild, watery oniony sauce. Gaynor had Duja Bajh… a tasty scrambled eggs with indian spice. In all breakfast wasn’t too bad considering. On the way out of the hotel one of the managers asked where we were going and what we were doing. We told him about our ambition to drive an autorickshaw from Jaisalmer to Shillong. His reply… ‘That’s impossible!’

We cleared our rooms and stowed our gear downstairs for some sightseeing Delhi style. We took the hotel cab to the metro railway station. Once underground we went through x-ray machines, metal detectors and pat downs… bearing in mind, this is just to go on the subway. As well as all this there were random manned machine gun nests in different spots around the subway system. I guess the threat of terrorism is taken pretty seriously here. It was certainly a little unnerving to see all the security. We purchased our tokens which cost 10 Rp each… 20 cents. From there it was a case of push and shove to get onto the train… with people pushing and shoving from all sides in an effort to get on. 3 stations later and we got off and headed towards the Red Fort.

The station to Red fort involved walking down some small alley ways and onto a main road, which was closed for repairs. Not that you would have known… all you need to do is ride your motorbike over the concrete barriers and the road is all yours. There were big holes where the drains were being repaired, broken bricks and rubbish everywhere. We could see the Red Fort a kilometre or so away so headed in that direction.

The Red Fort was massive, and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It cost about 250 Rp to get in and have a look around. There was a lot to see, all in various states of repair. Dogs, cows, crows and squirrels were all around. I took a heap of photos and soaked in the atmosphere. From the fort we headed back towards the tube, via a small vegetarian restaurant for lunch. Lunch was great, and cheap. The buttered naan bread was to die for. The tube back to the main New Delhi railway station was far less packed and far more comfortable. A quick 30 minute walk and we were back at Bloomrooms Hotel.

We cooled off, grabbed our stuff and walked towards the main railway station… and that’s where the games begun. We were accosted for our ticket as we headed into the main gate, to be promptly informed that our train was running late… up to nine hours late apparently, and that we were also at the wrong station. We were hustled into a waiting rickshaw and sent to an ‘official’ Indian tourist office, where once again we were told it was late. We were naturally presented with the options of cancelling our current ticket and taking another train or maybe the bus. By this time we were starting to sense a scam, and so decided to check elsewhere. As we walked out, a young fella told us that that office was a set up and that we should try the other one across the road. We did this only to be told that we had the wrong class, and that we should change immediately to a class for foreigners. Again we declined and left, deciding to catch a rickshaw back to the hotel to get the story straight.

The next game involved negotiating with all the rickshaw drivers to get us there, and they were all outbidding each other to get our sale, but at offensively inflated prices. It seemed that they were all in the game together. After a few minutes we just left and went to grab another random driver who said he would do it for 50 Rp. A short trip and we were back, but the driver demanded 300 Rp! After a few minutes of robust discussion we settled on 70 Rp, and off he stormed with mock indignation.

Thankfully, the hotel was fantastic and helped us no end. As it turns out we were at the wrong station but the train was on time and the class was fine. So in closing this chapter, the scam only cost us about 20 Rp, a bit of anger and an hour of our time, which fortunately we had sort of planned on losing, as things had been going way too smoothly. The hotel was fantastic. They managed to get us a taxi to the Old Delhi Station and for 400 Rp. The cab was a crusty old black Suzuki van. The driver was an old man with a huge grey beard… kind Gandalfish. Back home this car would have been defected on the stop… with instructions to never be permitted back on the road. It has brakes; once he had pumped the pedal a dozen times, about ¾ of a turn of slop in the steering box and a savage pull to the right when stopping. This resulted in him turning the wheel, which had no result until the last second while pumping the crap out of the brake pedal and all of holding on for dear life. Combine that with some good old fashioned Delhi gridlock and suffice to say it was quite a journey… all 5 km’s of it!

PERTH TO DELHI...

Perth to New Delhi.

After a rather uneventful 4 hours from Melbourne to Perth following a 3 AM rise to drive down from the Dandenong Ranges I finally made it to Perth. The day in Perth was spent doing all the final preparations for the trip. I managed to offload about 3 kilos of stuff that I hopefully won’t need. We checked through all the essentials that we might possibly need on the trip; zip ties, gaffer tape, electrical tape, spare fuel filters, some basic but essential tools, paper coffee filters (for straining fuel) and all sorts of other odds and ends. Dinner was a delicious fish and chips and Gaynor’s before going having a quick chat about ‘What the hell are we doing?’ and making exchanging copies of documents etc.

This morning we were again up at 3 in order to get to the airport no later than 4. The flight across to Singapore was relatively smooth. Changi once again proved to be a simply amazing airport, with lots to do and see. We had a look around the butterfly garden and then headed over to Terminal 2 for our flight. Following some BBQ Pork balls for lunch we chatted about the upcoming adventure and what we thought it had in store for us.

Eventually we boarded our A380 and headed towards Delhi. Not long after take-off we were advised to put seatbelts back on as there was some turbulence coming up. Now the A380 is the largest passenger jet in the world. This is one massive metal bird. When we hit the turbulence the aircraft bounced around giving me the butterflies in the stomach usually only reserved for roller coasters. The wings were flapping and there were a few panicky sounds coming from some of the passengers. Once we had passed through the bumps though, it was a pretty smooth flight until we reached Delhi.

Coming in from the South it was pretty apparent from the air that Delhi is one massive place. The lights spread as far as you could see, and we seemed to be coming in over the city for the greater part of 15 minutes. The air pollution was instantly apparent as the smog was making the scene below rather hazy. Finally we landed and disembarked. This airport is absolutely massive. There were around 20 immigration gates at the airport, with masses of people filing through, only to be stopped to join a queue to have their passports double checked to make sure that they had a stamp. Next we went to try and get some Indian money to start us off on our way. The first two ATM’s were purely for decoration as they didn’t work, with the third giving us around 10,000 Rupees (Around AU$200). Next we hired a government taxi to take us to our rooms near the New Delhi railway station.

The journey was rather uneventful really except for the marriage proposal Gaynor got from the driver, oh and the rickshaw that nearly violently slammed into the passenger side of the cab, and the dozen or so near misses that we had on our 16 km journey. We saw a heap of auto-rickshaws like the one we will be driving and pretty much realised straight away that these are possibly the least suitable form of motorised transportation there is globally available to be used to do what we are about to do.

I plan to sleep in tomorrow morning after the two massive 22+ hour days that I’ve just had. Tomorrow afternoon we catch the train to start making our way to Jaisalmer. 16 straight hours on an Indian train sounds interesting. Aaahhh… India!!