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 4 Heading to Hampi
We arise before first light ready to hit the frog and toad at day break. Thankfully Ricky had survived the night so we packed him up and got to it. The first thing we notice is that we are the only ones on the road. Ricky was purring down the highway all alone with the rising sun on our right. It was a very serene moment after what had been a hectic couple of days trying to figure out how Indian traffic worked. We ran out of fuel and stutter to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Once the engine stopped the silence set in. A warm light breeze drifted through to add to this tranquil experience. This was a peaceful side of India that we had not seen yet nor expected.
After we had filled up we kept on plugging. This is where we encounter our first major 3 lane highway. It is also where we first meet Ralph Schumacher aka Will. Why Ralph Schumacher you may ask? Will's tarnished driving record from the previous 3 days which included numerous not slowing for speed bump infringements, acting like he was driving a 4 tonne bus opposed to a 200kg rickshaw and being a general menace on the road. Given this we aptly dubbed him Ralph Schumacher, the lesser known and less successful of the Schumacher brothers. It has since been shortened to Rocket Ralph or just Ralphy. It was time for Ralphy's shift once we got on the 3 lane highway. He was licking his chops at the possibility of opening up the engine and seeing what old Ricky could do. We were soon hurtling down the road. A triumphant cry from Ralph once we cracked the 55km/h mark as if he'd broken some sort of land speed record. Another 45 minutes at full tilt we found ourselves on the side of the same highway overheated. I'd love to say Ralphy learnt his lesson then and there however in the days to follow we knew he hadn't.
Once Ricky had caught his breath after being flogged for the better part of an hour Mitch took the helm and started down one of the most intense roads we had driven yet. The construction of a new highway was underway however we didn't get to sample any of the new roads. Our strip of asphalt if you could call it that was running parallel to the new roads. It was riddled with small craters and seemed to be a main trucking route through the middle of Karnataka. We knew this after being off the road twice by oncoming semi-trailers. Small forgotten villages lined this grim gritty piece of India. We pulled off the highway into a small town to try and find some refreshments. We were greeted with 4 shops all selling the same thing and a barber. Mitch managed to charade his way into buying 3 bottles of water and 3 packets of chips. The highway redevelopment had essentially wiped this town from the map. We were left wondering how these people kept on existing.
With only a couple of packets of chips on the stomach combined with some hard driving we were all feeling a bit peckish. As we had previously learnt food options off the highway were limited to snacks. We spied a larger looking building up a hill with a few trucks parked out the front so we decided to pull in to give it a go. We parked Ricky right out the front and peered into the wide open doorway of the truck stop. It was an elongated concrete bunker which resembled a jail cell if anything. All we could see inside were some stretcher beds lined up across the room. We looked at each other and thought it was a roadside bunkhouse. Before we could fire Ricky back up a man dressed all in white rushed out of the front entrance beckoning us inside. We gave him the recognised signal for food which is clasping all 5 fingers together and motioning to your mouth. He gave us a positive head bobble so we entered to the dimmed cavern. Upon entering we were ushered to a couple of empty bunks. A man in a white chesty bonds singlet was going hammer and tongs over a wok in the make shift kitchen at the far end of the room. We sat down on the bunks, a narrow wooden board was slung between the two supporting rails as a table. The flexibility between the 3 of us was about the same as the wooden board laying across the bunk so sitting cross legged on top of the stretcher was proving to be a trial. Our hosts scooped two empty jugs into a 40 gallon drum of water situated in the corner of the room and placed them on our table. A mix of Hindi and a little English was propelled at us. We nodded and our order was placed. Meanwhile every other head in the room had shifted and all eyes were transfixed on us wondering what on earth we were doing there. The food came quite quickly. A few naan breads and a couple of veggie curries. Mitch was stoked about the amount of coriander that had been dumped on top of everything. With all said and done it was a pretty decent meal. One of our first introductions to vegetarian eating. To top it all off we even got some "soup" served in a small metallic cup. It looked like a Lassi which is the Indian take on a smoothie. From the corner of my eye I saw Mitch take what looked like a sip. Given his fussy nature when it comes to food and beverages I dove straight in with a giant swig. That decision I regretted instantly. I might as well had been gulping down a glass of lemon juice. From what I could deduce it was goats milk. For all we knew they had a lactating mother goat out the back. We left the rest of the soup, paid the bill and hit the road.
Part of our convoy named Chicken Stew had booked themselves into a 4 star resort just outside of Hampi. Hampi is an ancient ruined city with a large temple complex spread across the city. We arrived to a locked gate and a security guard. After being let into the compound we knew we were in for a treat. A couple of rough nights had left us hanging for a little bit of luxury. We checked in and promptly found ourselves splashing about in the pool. With some daylight left we headed down to the temple complexes. It was nearing on dusk so we only had a quick look around however from what we saw the entire place was immense. We clambered around a couple of temples before the sunset. On our way back we came across the first proper scam India had thrown at us. Ralph was punting along back to the resort and we notice a kid laying in the middle of the road. Another group of young lads motion us to stop so we slow down to see what is going on. Before we knew it another two kids from this mischievous gang had strung a rope up between two trees hanging across the road. The boy laying on the road suddenly springs up and joins his mates. They quickly surround the rickshaw saying that we had to pay some sort of temple taxes. We quickly catch onto the ruse and grab on tightly to our valuables. Luckily another larger vehicle had come up behind us so the rope was dropped to let them through. Ralph saw this as is our opportunity to escape. He gets Ricky screaming and we blast through the faux toll booth at a rate of knots. We had visions of the rope being whipped back up and two little Indian lads being dragged behind the rickshaw. We made it back to the resort unscammed and joined Ryan and Rory (Team Chicken Stew) for a cold beer and a solid debrief of the last couple of days.
And we are back... A couple of long days on the road has seen a lapse in blogging, apologies to those following back at home. Time to catch up.
Day 2 on the road - Independence Day & Mountain Climbing
We awake from a goods night rest in our suite, looking to seize the day we get up for an earlyish start. Old Ricky Ponting had leaked another bucket full of oil so finding a mechanic was first priority for the day. We get going and then realise that nearly every shop we pass is closed. We also notice a plethora of green, orange and white all over the place. It took us a while but we finally realised it was independence day. Great. It looked as if the day was going to take a turn for the worse. We found a small town which appeared to have an open mechanic. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a concrete supply store. Fantastic. Like usual within 90 seconds of stopping we were surrounded by a crack team of locals eager to help so we begin our enquiries about the whereabouts of a mechanic. Finally a lucky break, we are pointed up the road to a mechanic. We trundle the leaky rickshaw up the hill and haul it into the garage. A few phone calls are made and we are assured a professional will be down within "30 minutes" which we are learning is a pretty loose measure of time. Will and I head up the road to find some breakfast, upon returning we find a diesel mechanic had been called in. Given our engine is petrol we wasn't exactly who we needed, however not to worry our new friends had already gotten on the horn to get a petrol mechanic down. Baby steps. We send Mitch up to get his breakfast whilst Will and I look after Ricky. What happened next is perhaps one of the most unbelievable and memorable experiences of my life. Just down the road we here some banging of drums and clanging of symbols. Will calls me over to the road to have a look so I mosey over to check out the commotion. The towns independence day parade is just about to begin. We pull our cameras out to take some snaps and cheer from the sidelines. As the herd of people filter up the hill the leader of the parade notices us standing there watching. Before we knew it we had flags thrust into our hands and we we're marching along at the front of the parade along with a couple hundred locals dressed all in white. We continue up the hill and spot Mitch on his way back to the rickshaw. He catches wind of our new found stardom and quickly gets invited to the front of the pack with us to join in the revelry. There we are in our gap year suits leading a contingent of Kerala natives through their main street on independence day. The next hour and a half is wild. A lot of selfies, flag waving and handshaking take place. After the first lap down we had been introduced to the towns most famous doctors, politicians and businessmen. On the turn of the first leg it was time for the raising of the flag, we are rapidly shunted to the base of the pole where Mitchell lines himself for the job. He is promptly told to step back and let a respected town elder to do the honours. After a quick salute we were back on the road for another hot lap. By this time I had started feeling the Southern India weather during monsoon season. For those of you who know me also know that I don't deal well with the heat. Couple that with walking up hills in a pack of hundreds of people climbing over each other to shake my hand and you've got a recipe for a very sweaty boy. Needless to say I looked like I had just stepped out of a sauna. A few of the locals have observed this and had to take Mitch aside privately to consult him on my welfare. Moments later a cold bottle of water came my way. The hospitality of the people of Kerala is absolutely astonishing. After the third pass of the main street we began to wonder if the fanfare would go all day however shortly after we were directed into the local school for more photo's with the adoring kids and teachers. After the intial photo shoot in the school yard it was time for some more face time with the big wigs of the town and the crowd of kids were parted for us to make our way into the office. We were seated next to Sahfiq who from what we could work out was the top dog of this little community. More photos were taken and more hands shook. Fathers were pushing their bewildered children in front of us for happy snaps. The guest book was signed by all three of us and then the show seemed to be over. We headed outside and said our final thank you's for their hospitality. Our handler throughout the entire experience was Abdul. Amongst the length of the parade Mitchell had been busy trying to source a mechanic. A lot of this pestering had been in Abdul's ear. It had certainly paid off because word had certainly gotten out we were in need of a mechanic. As we climbed the hill back to Ricky (for the forth time) we see him in a different garage propped up on his side with a welder underneath getting to work. What a pleasant surprise that was. We were told 20 minutes and we would be on our way. By this time we had amassed an entourage of around 10 who we chewed the fat with until Ricky was ready to hit the road. Moments before leaving the local newscaster was spotted and hailed down for a quick interview for that nights broadcast. Once the interview concluded we had Ricky fired up and pointed back north. Unfortunately the mechanic had fixed a different problem to which we had stopped in for, beggars cannot be choosers though. Before we left Pookkattri we asked Abdul why they had been so excited to see us and include us in their festivities. He told us that the town was celebrating us choosing to stop there on independence day. We left this small beautiful town renergised and high on life.
The next part of the journey saw us trucking to the foot of a mountain range that borders Kerala and Tamil Nadu. After a quick petrol stop it was time to climb. An hour later after sitting at 20kms per hour we reach the summit of 2200m to let Ricky cool down. Some tense moments were had with busses rounding blind corners in front of us in the midst of a cloud of fog bringing visibility in at around 10 metres ahead. After reaching the top we had a spectacular drive through the winding mountains roads flanked by deep ravines full of tea plantations. The fresh mountain breeze whipping through and filling the air with the refreshing scent of tea. We are on track to meeting up with part of our convoy in a city called Mysuru until we get turned around at the start of a Tiger reserve. Back around the other side of the mountains we go. Patchy reception and fading light saw us racing to our accommodation for the night. We finally made the home stay as the sun was setting. A small little place called Safehouse. It was obvious that they didn't see many visitors as they charged us 60AUD for the night. The room consisted of two small double beds which resembled pieces of granite, a cold trickle for a shower and unsealed windows letting a lot of wildlife in. After a very disappointing splash under the dribbling shower head we called it a night.
Day 6 - Caves and wickets
We awake to the tooting of horns outside our street facing room. Badami had one main road which we were situated on. From the window of the room we had a stellar view of the red cliffs which stood high above the small shanty town in front of it. It had been decided that since we missed out on the caves the evening before that we would go and check them out in the morning. Considering that between team Get It India we could name around 5 cities and 1 tourist site across the entire country; the caves were a welcome surprise to break up the day's driving. We met Chicken Stew downstairs for another buffet breakfast experience. This morning we had a fairly decent spread. The most consistent item that we had encountered was a donut with onion thrown into the batter. It was then fried and could have been mistaken for any other donut you’d find elsewhere. We got a quick bite in before wandering up to the caves. Something that we had been noticing was two different starkly different entrance fees for locals and foreigners for tourist attractions. The story goes that when Bill Clinton visited the Taj Mahal for the first time we noticed that locals and foreigners were paying the same price for admission. President Clinton then remarked that the Indian government should be charging more for foreigners to enter their local attractions. His equitable idea then stuck and was rolled out nationwide. We collected our tickets and entered into the caves. The early bird certainly gets the worm in these situations as we were more or less the only ones wandering around. It was still early so the sun didn’t quite have its regular bite yet. There are 4 caves in this particular complex. The evening before we had found ourselves on the opposite side of the reservoir looking over. As we climbed the stairs to the first cave we noticed a few monkeys skirting around us performing their morning rituals. The mouths of the caves were about 10 metres wide. A set of 4 pillars had been carved into the side of the red rocks. Another 4 or 5 pillars had been carved all the way through to the back of the cave which was around also 10 or so metres deep. Each of them boasting some serious detail. Exquisite pictures of Hindu divinities had been sculpted into the walls leading to the back where a shrine sat. It was incredible to see the how well preserved the artwork was given that it was nearly 1400 years old without any special attempt of maintenance from the caretakers. We soon arrived at the third cave which is the largest of the complex. The only other patrons of the caves were a large family of around 10. Our recent brush with fame after independence day must have spilled over from neighbouring Kerala as Mitch was approached for a photo. With the family set up on the steps in front of the cave he quickly joined lapping up every bit of stardom he could get. Men in the back and ladies in the front Mitch tried to position himself to the left hand side of the shot. Some yelling from the photographer signified he wasn’t happy with the framing. A few slight adjustments and Mitch had been slid to the middle of the back row and was now the centre piece. After a couple of snaps the photographer beckoned the rest of us to join the family portrait. Moments later all five of us were sat amongst the family taking more happy snaps. The family disperse and we take a few photos of our own overlooking the lake below the caves before heading off north to Solapur.
Some more crazy roads saw another hard slog of driving similar to the day before. Trucks and busses overtaking each other with no regard for little red rickshaws in the oncoming lane. We learnt that a flash of the lights means move or get hit within the Indian heavy vehicle drivers community. After being run off the road twice we got the message and gave way to anything that was oncoming. Chicken Stew had pulled in for lunch at quite a respectable looking establishment. We parked next to them and went inside for a nice sit down meal. Another important thing that we had learnt on the road was that Indian chefs do not cook quickly. The quickest meal you can get is a deep fried bit of dough or pastry on the side of the road. With this piece of knowledge we had been avoiding long lunches in order to maximise time on the road during daylight hours. Our usual order was 3 curries, rice and naan breads. Nice and simple with the hope that it would also be nice and quick. Mitch was generally in charge of ordering however today he handed over the responsibilities to Ralph and I whilst he went to the bathroom. To most it would be a simple task, not for us. We start perusing the menu and quickly our eyes lock onto a familiar dish called tandoori chicken. After a few days on mainly vegetables we were after a bit of meat. We call the waiter over and order our usual 2 curries, rice and naan bread. However just as a little treat we decided to order some tandoori chicken. The waiter asks do we want a half or full tandoori chicken. Ralph quickly looks to me for approval to order the full chook where I give him a decisively positive head bobble. Shortly after Mitch returns from the bathroom and asks what we got. He wasn’t overly pleased when we told him that we had ordered a full tandoori chicken. We hadn’t really thought about how long a full chicken would take to prepare in perhaps the slowest kitchens on earth. Ralph is then tasked with cancelling the chook from the order so that we weren’t waiting around until their dinner service for it to hit the table. With no luck Mitch has to go get it down. With a lot of slow broken English and strong hand gestures the tandoori chicken was no longer on the order and a lesson had been learnt about ordering lunch, for Mitch to just do it in the future. The rest of the food hit the table around half an hour later. We inhaled it and got back to it. Along the way we had implemented a yellow and red card system for minor/major misdemeanours whilst driving or for generally non helpful conduct. Ralph was staring down the barrel of double digits for yellow cards for various offences both in and out of the driver’s seat. It was with Ralphy in the cockpit that I had received my first yellow. Whilst we were on this treacherous trucking strip Mitch was keen for a quick nap so he asked me to supervise the driver. I graciously agreed however promptly fell asleep as well which left Rocket Ralph with his rubber neck to drive unsupervised. The card was issued and we pressed on.
We rolled into Solapur in the late afternoon. Another large city which we hadn’t really encountered yet. The peak hour traffic swarmed around us as we entered the city limits. Mitch steered his way through the screaming mess of motorbikes and rickshaws. Chicken Stew was up ahead of us also navigating the traffic expertly until they slow to a stop. We pull up behind them to see what the trouble was. Their clutch cable had snapped the same as ours had on day 1. Within seconds we were surrounded by 50 locals all ogling the two colourful rickshaws and 5 white people that had just appeared out of nowhere. The back of Chicken Stew was quickly popped open and 20 “mechanics” had their heads in the engine bay discussing how they were going to fix it. Before we knew it the busted clutch cable was lying on the road next to us and the crack team were installing a new one. Within 10 minutes we were back on the road. The efficiency was immense. We eventually reached the hotel and parked the rickshaws inside undercover for the night.
Opposite us was a school with a bunch of cheering kids. They invited us over for a game of cricket. Mitch started to melt at the prospect of a game of street cricket. The rain had just started so conditions were not ideal however we braved them and got out there to represent Australia. The ground was the forecourt of a school building. A 20 metre by 5 metre rectangle surrounded by 6 foot concrete walls. The pitch was uneven pavers with a makeshift wicket made out of a tree along the back wall. Our equipment included a bright yellow plastic cricket bat which we had carted from Sydney and a small rock hard ball which didn’t have much bounce to it. Teams were picked and I was tasked with opening the batting. I took a moment to get settled. I took centre and swept the pitch. It was time to face up to my first over in the subcontinent. The bowler was a lad of around 13 years of age who was wearing a Ronaldo soccer shirt. He was definitely the ringleader of this little crew as he was the tallest and the oldest. He marked his run up and ripped one down at me. The ball which resembled a perfectly round pebble crashed straight through my legs and into “middle stump”. Solapur apparently hadn’t heard of the “can’t get out first ball rule” as I was sent back to the pavilion straight away. Not my best innings and a bit of an upsetting start to my international career. I respected the umpires decision though and took my place in deep mid-on to hopefully redeem myself by taking a screamer of a catch. Mitch was next in to bat. After absolutely bamboozling me Ronaldo took it easy on Mitch and just rolled his arm over. Seizing the opportunity Mitch started to hit him around the park. After a couple of solid overs he was made to retire not out. After a mediocre cricket career in Australia this would go down as perhaps Mitchell’s best ever innings that he will be talked about for years to come. Ronaldo quickly took the bat and lined up in front of the stumps. I was still licking my wounds from my shocking performance with the bat so I grabbed the ball eager to get my own back. Ronaldo was ready and I steamed in with a lighting bolt aimed at his toes. He swings and I see the ball disappear back over my head, out of the court and into the busy intersection behind the school. There is a mad dash and quickly the ball is retrieved. Solapur had clearly not adopted the “six and out” rule either. The damp conditions had made the grip on the bat quite slick. One of the local lads went for a big pull shot on a stray ball outside leg stump. A yellow blur was then seen whipping over the fence and into the street. Our only spectator and lead photographer Ryan had to dive for cover as the bat narrowly missed her. The game was quickly brought to a halt after a powerful straight drive snapped the bat in two. We shook hands, took some pictures and headed in to get dry.
The third part of our convoy the Lord Gonapati’s had arrived after a massive day on the road. It was the first time we had seen them since we left Kochi. All three teams arranged to meet in the lobby and head off for dinner. We walked a couple of streets over to another hotel. We were shown to our own private rooftop courtyard which looked out over the city. We had dinner and a very overdue catch up. It was hard to believe that we had all been in Kochi only 6 days before. It felt like we had been on the road for weeks.
Annnnnd we are still alive. Its been a big few days for us at Get it India.
Yesterday saw a fairly fresh start after a night on the turps. Having a hydralyte before bed worked wonders. Having somewhat of a spring in our step it was time to pimp out Mr. Ricky Ponting (what we have affectionately named our rickshaw after one of Australia's greats). This is where our newest mate Harris of Kochi comes in. He took us around town to find everything we could have ever needed. The fact it was a Sunday didn't mean a thing to him, he even called in a friend of his to open his upholstery shop to fit our side curtains. He took us to his favourite restaurant for lunch as well as his favourite chai house for tea and cake. The generosity and genuine care of the local people thus far has been really eye opening and not something we have expected. After a big day of gaining aesthetics we stumbled across perhaps the best kebab/shwarma we had even eaten. It was a hot mess of chicken and a sauce so good i may baptise my first born child with it instead of holy water.
Fast forward to today. Go time baby. What a time to be alive. The compound was electric with adrenaline. Engines roaring and smoke filling the air. It felt like pit lane at the Indy 500. Alas we had a problem, after closer inspection both our engine and gear box we're devoid of any oil at all. Panic stations. We call the mechanics over. After a few stressful moments we were topped back up and Ricky was howling like he had just notched up another test tonne. Now it was time to bask in the revelry. We form into our convoy and turn our rickshaw into what sounds like a Boston dive bar by blasting Drop Kick Murphys on repeat. Then we were off, Mitch navigating us out the front gate without stalling and onto the port. Where things got slow and hot. The barge taking us out of Fort Kochi could only fit a bakers dozen of rickshaws on it. Divide that by 87 rickshaws and you can see the problem. After standing in the wrong line for about half an hour we managed to join the correct queue. Another hour later we were strapped onto the ferry and ready to go. Big Willy gazing adoringly across at the shipping port, another one of his great passions in life.
Once on the other side it was my turn in the cockpit. After stalling twice coming off the ferry i eventually found first gear and got the old boy moving to a chorus of horns behind us. We soon reformed the convoy and the lads of Get it India we're the first cab off the rank so to speak where we began weaving our way through the narrow streets of Fort Vypin. DJ Cr!cket in the mix dropping some eclectic tunes from the back and we were on our way.
It was certainly birth by fire from there. After brazenly overtaking my first bus the realisation that they are the kings of the streets set in. The first hour was spent trying to find a nice cruising speed whilst dodging busses hurtling down in front of us. We got to our first stop unscathed for a quick simosa and mango juice. 200 rupees fed 6 of us, this is 4AUD. The inexpensiveness of this country is staggering.
The lead mechanic Big Willy was next in the drivers seat. We soon found out why he was not chosen as the lead driver. Contemplation around whether a stop to fit seat belts was expressed between his passengers. Whilst Will's clutch hand had become slightly more nimble, his aspirations of becoming the next Vin Diesel hadn't changed a bit. Luckily we we're out of bus country.
Following this display of driving that could only be described as a hot lap around Mount Panorama we had our first breakdown. The gear cable/lever was fried. Within the time it would usually take to fry up a naan we had 6 local chaps opening up the back of Ricky inspecting the damage. Within the hour they had us back zipping down the winding warrens of south Kerala. Along some lovely coastline and coconut groves. We then popped back out onto the highway to try and make up some ground.
The day ended with another quick simosa stop and another oil refill. Tonight's accommodations are in a 80 dollar a night suite at the Rouba Residency, the room has its own dedicated wifi router. Talk about ballin' on a budget. Let's see what tomorrow brings. Fast and loose baby.
Hello there fans of Get it India, what a day. Where do we even start? From being upgraded to a penthouse suite at the Honolulu home stay to our first rip around the streets of Fort Kochi in our rickshaw its been a biggin. The day started off with a killer omelet courtesy of our host Mr. Aboo. The weather was on the wet side but we decided to venture out anyway. That was when we realised the first critical piece of equipment had been forgotten, my rain jacket. Anyway trudging along the streets in the rain a very jovial man approaches us and offers us a tour. A very cheap tour. Having spent enough time travelling around Asia we knew there would be a catch. The catch being that we would have to visit a couple of shops and feign interest in order for the driver to get a free tank of fuel. At this point it was walk in the rain aimlessly or be driven. We decided on the latter and took off. The tour included a temple we could not enter, a temple we could enter however we were ushered around in 5 minutes flat then asked to leave, a spice shop where we were made to eat dried chilli's and cinnamon bark, a rug emporium where at least 4 magic carpets were unfurled before the salesman realised we weren't buying and finally "Kochi's best viewpoint" which turned out to be a 3 level Sari dispensary with a rooftop you could look off. All this for $2AUD equivalent. You just don't see value like this elsewhere.
The next part of the day saw us meeting up with our mates team Lord Gonapati where we proceeded to join in the revelry at the Rickshaw Run check in. 70 rickshaws all parked in one compound taking it in turns to rip around a little patch of mud which they dubbed "testing". After a quick tutorial on how everything worked we were handed the keys to our vessel and home for the next 2 weeks. It took a few cranks to get the 7 break horsepower motor running but once alight she was purring. It was go time. I was first in the cockpit getting her revved up. Some likened the scenes to Shumacher lining up at poll position at the Monte Carlo Grand Prix. The lights go green, I drop the clutch and then reality sets in. I've never driven anything with a clutch, the rickshaw stalls and laughter ensues. After 9 or 10 more attempts i manage to bunny hop the 3 wheeled beast onto the circuit a meager 5 metres in front of me. Thankfully my two companions had about the same amount of luck with the whole clutch throttle dilemma. After a few whips around the track we were granted our official licenses. This meant it was time with for some real road time... Kochi has a few speed bumps around which Mitch learnt quite quickly about (see the video below). We also learnt that Will's left hand has the dexterity of a chimps with his constant dropping of the clutch like he was on the set of the fast and the furious. After a few close calls we managed to get the rickshaw between the front gates of the compound, where we proceeded to stall it another 5 times. Many lessons learnt and much fun had. Fast and loose baby.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BXpwp8Hhr6z/
And we have arrived! Many dreams were achieved yesterday. Will riding the top deck of an A380, Mitch getting us a "free upgrade" to some vacant exit row seats and for myself well being reunited with my old mate Leo the beer in Changi Airport. Big shout out to Singapore Airlines as well with their free 20SGD voucher for the transit. Being the refined human beings that we are we visited Ronald for 3 large meals, 10 nugs, 3 soft serve cones and an apple pie. The remainder was spent on those fresh frosty Leo's pictured above. Cochin airport was not quite what we expected. It was grand, shiny and uncrowded. After a well deserved sleep we are about to go have our first Indian breakfast cooked by our host. Later today we will be checking into the race. The top picture is of the boys looking at a map of India for the first time. Fast and loose baby.
Time is 9:32am. First beer in hand, purchased on the company card of course; thank you ITW. Will is like a dog with 2 tails watching the east west runway. Mitch had spied a sushi train that he he is making very serious enquiries at. Here i am typing away our very first blog post for the trip. We are all wearing our gap year suits. I've got the gold Casio calculator watch on to just keep our finances in order. Things are looking up. We've got a few rupees in our rucksacks so we should be right. Next stop Kochi.
