Day 13. Soft Serve Ice Cream Under the Golden Arches

Day 13 Guruvayur to Kochi

It had rained overnight. Heavily. Up at 6am ready for our early escape. I went to check the gates. A huge padlock and chain could be seen on the gates but on closer inspection, I realised it hadn't been done up to lock us in.

After draining a large pool of water from the vinyl tuk tuk roof, I started it up. Normally we would warm it up for a good 10 minutes or so. Not on this occasion. The owner had arrived early. I drove outside of the gates. Chris and William dashed out with their bags which we threw in. We took off before the owner had realised he had been outwitted. Or maybe he was happy with the 1500rs after and just didn't want to confront Chris again?

Either way, we were off on our last day of rickshaw running. With the early start, we felt sure we would be in Kochi in just 3 hours or so.

Dumb thought again.

Heavy traffic. We tried all sorts of detours. None worked. We just had to be patient and go with the flow.

As we approached Kochi, we thought it would be fun to catch one of the small ferry boats across one of the backwater canals. After working our way through a maze of twisting lanes, we found the first ferry terminal. The locals all indicated this was the place to catch the ferry. Just not today. It is Vishnu New Year and Good Friday. No ferries today!

Instead we thought we'd play silly buggers. At least William did. Time to test out the roof rack. I didn't want to get involved and being a true journalist realised my task was to record the news. Not be a part of it.

So the next thing I knew, I had footage of silly William atop of the tuk tuk with Chris trying not to roll the top heavy vehicle around the corners. At least if he did roll it, William would have ended up in the backwaters instead of the road.

With enough footage to prove to their mother how stupid they both are, we pushed on to our digs for the night. The Lake County Homestead. A grand old 130 year old mansion. The owners both very religious and Surnians. Some kind of Christian sect. No point in even asking them where we could buy some beer from.

They were quite impressed once they realised we had driven the rickshaw all the way from Jaisalmer. He was on the phone to the local newspaper to arrange a travel article. We however were more concerned about checking out Kochi and meeting up with some of the others and having a well earned beer.

Kochi is quite a big city. The Fort Kochi area however is a very pleasant. Distinct Portuguese architecture. Many buildings had been restored. Most hadn't. Large trees provided plenty of shade. Hundreds of Indians paraded along the waterfront promenade littered with all kinds of tourist trinkets, ice cream vendors and the like. A public holiday so most shops shut. We had to settle for deep fried ice cream whilst we joined the parade.

Our accommodation was a good half hour from the Fort Kochi area so no way were we going to hand in our tuk tuk just yet.

We considered our options. We could travel a couple of hours further to check out more of the Kerala backwaters. But with the traffic and uncertainty of the public holidays, we instead opted for the Lulu Mall. It was here we would see how the middle class of India spend their time (and money).

A fully air-conditioned shopping mall. Absolutely packed with well dress shoppers and families. For the first time in a couple of weeks, we decided to break apart our small family group for half an hour whilst we each did our own thing. Chris wanted to buy some work clothes for back home. William went searching for beer. I just wandered around in a mall like stupor.

Chris found clothes. William found no beer. I was keen to get into a stupor. The 5 star Marriott was adjacent to the mall and it would surely have beer? We were advised not but that the Holiday Inn a couple of kilometres away would. After arriving their and having our tuk tuk parked by a valet, we found the bar - which was shut and no longer operational. Our valet was a little dumbfounded when we asked for our tuk tuk back just moments after he had slotted it in somewhere.

What to do now? And then we saw the Golden Arches of Maccas. Ice cream time. We proudly entered the drive through and ordered 3 cones. (In Goa, do that and you don't end up with ice cream!)

Let me tell you something about trying to eat a chocolate coated soft serve ice cream on a stinking hot day while trying to drive a tuk tuk in heavy traffic.

Driving a tuk tuk requires squeezing your left hand on the clutch throttle and rotating your wrist to change gears. Your right hand controls the accelerator with your right hand thumb constantly on the horn. Not much room left for a decent grip on the rapidly dripping ice cream cone. Dang!

I drove back to Fort Kochin with rather sticky hands and a few new stains on my shirt. (Other stains included sweat, oil, masala chai and several forms of mould and other bacteria.)

We found our next nights hotel and were pleasantly surprised to see it was just a hundred metres or so from the Rickshaw Run finish line.

The What's App app was going full throttle. The main conversation being how to get beers and from where. Consensus was a couple of the upmarket restaurants were willing to bend the rules. By the time we arrived at the Lighthouse Inn restaurant, the place was very busy. And not surprisingly, the beer price was probably triple what it should have been We ordered some anyway. And waited. And waited. And waited.

How hard can it be to bring over 3 beers for three weary Rickshaw Wallahs? This was not a good Friday for us. Stuff em! We'll go the other restaurant.

Too late. They had run out of beer and some other runners were polishing off the last bottle of their rum. We were now totally disheartened. A rumour of another restaurant serving beer turned out to be fruitless as well.

Tired. Thirsty. Filthy dirty. Hungry. We now just wanted something to eat so we could get this night over with.

A rooftop Tibetan Restaurant with a few westerners seemed our best option. We ordered 3 dishes. 10 minutes later, the "waitress" (who looked to be in her early teens) told us there was no chicken left. Or mutton. Or any other dish we ordered. No worries. We ordered some spring rolls, vegetable momos and rice instead. In around 15 minutes, a couple of spring rolls turned up. With no plates or cutlery. After some gesticulating, we ended up with a spoon each devoured our third of the spring rolls.

Another half hour rolled by.....Eventually we realised something wasn't quite right. We were the only diners left. Down the stairs to question the child waitress about the remainder of our food. She had no idea. Off to the kitchen where a couple of cooks were playing games on their phones. When they realised this crazy and hungry westerner was wanting his food, they looked at the waitress and told her.....they forgot to cook it.

All we had to do was wait for another half hour or so and the could cook something.

Bullshit. We were out of there vowing never to return.

Kochi had not been the holy grail we were expecting after 3000km on the road.

Could this night get any worse!

Yes.

And no.

The bad news is we ran out of fuel and had no back up supplies.

The good news was we had run out literally 50 metres from the gates of our mansion. So not a huge problem after all. At least not for me who volunteered to steer the tuk tuk whilst Chris and William pushed.

Let's just say two young adults pushing a tuk tuk were less powerful than its 7hp 140cc motor! No matter how much I encouraged them, we rolled into the courtyard slower than a wandering cow.

Bed.

Day 12. "The Shining" Hotel

Day 12. Near Bekal Beach to Guruvayur

248km. 11 hours of Rickshaw running.

Breakfast was included as part of our tariff. So no mad rush to get going. Normally our morning meal was a glass of Chai and maybe some fried bread, bananas or whatever else we could scrounge on the road.

Our aim was to get within striking distance of Kochi. Too far and now too late to get there in one hit. Besides, we didn't really want to push ourselves and the PapaBaba 60 too hard now the finish line was so close.

We hadn't counted on bad traffic though.

For some reason, each time it was my turn piloting our tuk tuk, the traffic would condense. Once William and Chris were at the helm, the roadways would open up, the traffic would clear and they were off! Maybe it was just their skills improving out of sight? Maybe I was slowing down and getting caught behind the flow. Whatever the reason, it turned out a rather shitty rickshaw running day.

Our accommodation options were limited. Only a few hotels in our intended landing zone. One stood out. The Devasura Inn. And of course, as it was my turn, the sun set, the traffic worsened and once again we were driving into the blinding glare of headlights on high beam. The road bumps impossible to see. Not impossible to feel though!

The Devasura Inn was clean. Good condition. And totally empty. I don't think the owners were really expecting us even though we had booked ahead on booking.com. A glance at their hotel ledger confirmed only 2-3 guests in the past 3 weeks or so. William felt as if we were in the movie, "The Shining."

The agreed price for 3 was 1500rs. We only had 2000 rupees and they had no change so Chris arranged to pay them later. Time to hit the town in search of some dinner. We didn't even bother to try and find beer. Well, we did really. Just not with any optimism whatsoever. It was Vishnu Eve or something. New Years Eve for the locals. Tomorrow was Good Friday as well. A double whammy against us.

The "restaurant" we chose was decidedly dodgy. We had the distinct feeling we were the first westerners to dine there. It was this or a few ice creams for dinner. But hey, this is India so we gave it a go. Turned out to be really nice food. And one of the cheapest meals. So cheap, we still had some rupees left over for some ice creams on the walk home.

Chris handed over the 1500rs. And then it started. They simply wanted more. More the extra bed they claimed. More for the tax. (Plus plus) They hadn't counted on the persistence of Chris though. Basically take the 1500rs or nothing! Somehow he even managed to retrieve our passports. The atmosphere was quite tense though and our thoughts kept drifting back to "The Shining" We retreated to our room and double locked the door. It looked sturdy enough for even the strongest axe attack.

Just one niggling thought occurred to us before we hit the hay. The big iron gates out the front. Would they be padlocked trapping us and PapaBaba? We decided to set the alarm for an early morning rise. Our plan was to escape before any of the staff were up demanding the extra funds again.

Day 11. A Very Auspicion Occasion means free cake!

Day 11. Kuantan to near Bekal Beach

299km. 9 hours of rickshaw running.

Happy birthday Chris! Huge celebrations. William blew up a green balloon and drew a picture of Chris on it. It soon took pride of place atop our tuk tuk where it last around 27 seconds before deflating. Indian balloons have the reliability of an Indian condom.

A long Skype call to his mummy who had forgotten it was his birthday. Nice one mum.

We had to pay for the meal the previous night so I asked for our bill. We received a scrap of paper with the words: Food. 700 Rs.

Simplicity at its best!

After a lame Happy Birthday song from the remnants of the hotel staff and other runners, we hit the road again. We plan to be in Kochi in two days or so, depending upon the roads and our rickshaw reliability.

The road was very good mostly. I even hit 60 on one downhill stretch. Just like my age this year.

We were making exceptional progress and in a jubilant mood so time for an ice cream sundae called a Guddi. It was very goody indeed. We told Chris happy birthday as he received his.

A few kilometres out of the city of Mangalore, we passed a newish looking building festooned with blue and white balloons (not Indian made obviously) and an inviting sign - Coffee and Bakery. We hit the brakes and stopped 30 metres later for doing a u turn and travelling down the dual highway in the wrong direction. (Can't wait to do this back home!)

The place looked brand spanking new. Several staff milled about doing preparations for what was obviously their grand opening day. The glass patisserie counter was the guardian for a vast array of Indian sweets and cakes. We told Chris to take his pick of anything he liked. It was to be our shout. (Well, the kitty will pay for it....) He chose a chocolate layered cake. William went for Gulab Japan and I went for what were little yellow gulab jamans in a sweet yellow sauce. Coffee was unavailable - the machine was there but not to be turned on for a couple of days???

As Chris feasted, I mentioned to one of the staff it was his birthday. This was acknowledged with a head wobble. Back to my yellow Gulab Jamans. A few minutes later, a recorded song of happy birthday reverberated throughout the shop with a barber shop style quarter of staff clapping their hands out of time with the music. Let the celebrations begin! After a minute or so, the staff all returned to their various duties. Chris looked pretty pleased with himself. 27 years old and a birthday reception surpassing that of a MacDonalds Party Room.

I went to pay for our delicacies. Not sure how much this would all cost as it looked pretty upmarket. Would the birthday song be added to our bill?

When the owner looked at me with a broad smile, I shit myself as this means she was going to make a fortune out of these western gringoes. (Is that an Indian or Mexican term? You know what I mean though - right?)

And then I was totally shocked.

"On this most auspicious occasion, we are happy to offer you your meal with our most gracious compliments." (Yes, this is how she spoke. I got her to say it again so I could video it)

We were not only their first customers, but with a birthday as well. How auspicious is that! Stunned with the graciousness of this act, William regretted not ordering more.

Buoyed by this unseen side of India, we joined the highway again full of energy after our severe sugar hit. (Is this how the Goan hippies feel after their Goan Ganges?)

We continued well past Mangalore and started our search for idyllic beachside accommodation. Such places were in abundance at around $400-$500 per night. Our initial thoughts were to stay somewhere nice in order to celebrate 27 years of Chris. It was agreed he is not worth that much. Problem was that we had great difficulty finding much at all. The Raj Residency was over $100 a night and looked very ordinary. We pushed on instead. One more place was to be further down the highway. The price sounded right. Around 3500 rupees - within our birthday budget. The reviews sounded excellent. Too good so we cynically surmised they were the hotel owners free loading friends who were pimping it up.

As we approached, our hearts lifted. A huge sign out front advertised beer and wine. We pulled in and went straight to reception. What struck us was the cleanliness of the place. No mould. No cracked tiles. No shit anywhere. We requested their very best cheapest room at $2500 rupees. Plus tax. Plus extra bed. It soon climbed to 3150rs. Still a bargain.

We were shown to our room where we would receive yet another birthday surprise. The room was huge. Even better than the Ambassador Ajanta back at Aurangabad. Fully air conditioned. Fluffy towels. Soaps. Shampoo. Shaving kits. And things that worked. Woohoo! I raced off to have a shower. My plan was to get ahead of Chris and William and organise a special birthday cocktail for Chris at the bar.

And then it turned to shit.

"Where is the Bar" I queried the manager. "Sir, there is no bar" "But the sign points over there to a bar?" "That is where the bar used to be." "Where is it now though?" "We do not have a bar" "But at the entranceway to your hotel, there is a 12 foot high sign saying Beer and Wine" "Oh yes. That sign is incorrect."

Turns out that the Supreme Court of India were still giving us grief. Once again, their ruling about no alcohol within 500 metres of a highway had caught up with us.

No problem. "So where may I buy beer?" "In the town" "Where in the town?" "Out front. Turn right. Then 1.5 kilometres."

Sounded easy so I grabbed Chris for navigational purposes and we boarded our tuk tuk with a mission to obtain birthday beers.

After several pulls of the tuk tuk starter lever and a few "shit mongrel rickshaw" expletives, we realised the fuel tank was empty. We topped up and set off on the mission.

It was dark. The traffic heavy. And several turns to choose from. I will cut the story short. After several directions by chemists, fruit sellers and random pedestrians, we were still no closer to our missions end. One road we were sent down was to a church. They sell beer?

And finally, after at least half an hour and several kilometres, we found the beer selling shop. Woohoo! There were people everywhere. Cars, tuk tuks and even police (which was a worry as we had left all the paperwork back at the room including money for bribes). I parked in the no parking zone (surprisingly no one else was parking here) and sent Chris in to get a humble 9 pack. He was back in less than 10 seconds.

"No way are we getting beer here." WTF? People are walking out with beer. He suggested I look over the fence.

No way are we going to get a beer here I realised. There were literally hundreds of people crammed in a mob like queue. We couldn't even see the beer counter. It was more like the entrance to a grand final football day or the entrance to the Old Delhi railway station.

For the first time, we admitted defeat. We would return to our hotel alcohol free. Chris had his bottle of Deccan Plateau Vineyard Shiraz. Maybe this would be a nice touch for our dinner.

No.

No alcohol allowed in the dining room. Or at a table on the lawn overlooking the river. Only in your room.

So another alcohol free day. Mum will be proud!

Day 9. Gone to Goa.

Day 9 Somewhere near Ratnagiri to to Vagator Beach - Goa

226kms. 7 hours of rickshaw running.

We left before first light. Not to get anywhere fast. Just to get out of the hotel.

The road had improved as daylight arrived. Very pleasant driving and cool temperatures. The countryside very green. A big contrast to a few days earlier with the sands of the Rajasthan desert.

The sands we sought today though were on the famed beaches of Goa. The road was a continual slide show of everything Indian. A huge contrast to the dullness or previous days.

We listened to the final podcast episode of Shit Town. A serial we played on Williams speakers turned up full volume. We could hear it reasonably well in third and fourth gear. 1st and 2nd not so well.

As we got closer, we had a "Spot the First Hippie" contest. I think I won. Not really a hippie but some dirty feral chick covered with Tatts, dreadlocks and armpits hairier than a camel. I scared the shit out of her when I yelled out "Soap" as we drove past.

Our chosen hotel was the Yo Yo Goa. It had a pool. A clean room and a folded up mattress dog bed kind of thing for Chris. Following a short walk to a shitty beach, we ate, swam in the pool and had a nana nap resting up for the mid way party scheduled for later in the evening.

ZZZZzzzzzzz.

Once our heads hit the pillow, we were all out of it. (Except for Chris who had no pillow. His head just hit the floor.) We didn't awaken until around 5pm. Put on our party clothes and off to the party bar where no one was??? No problem. Down to the beach for a couple of cold Kingfishers.

Now Goa was not that impressive. It was discovered by a bunch of hippies in the 60's who are now in their 70's. They were all at a table behind us. Emaciated. Long silver hair. A great ad for "Don't do drugs" or "Don't stay too long in Goa". I wanted to take a group photo of them, but somehow I got the strangest feeling it wouldn't be cool. Of course, being in Goa, one needs to be cool so I took a photo of the sunset instead. Now I was just a dickhead tourist.

Hang about. What is that I see in the distance? Your stock standard sunset Yoga Beach class. Probably all Russians who wouldn't know the difference between a down dog or Warrior two. For a moment, I considered joining them. Would this impress the hippies I pondered. Probably not. Instead of a down dog, I downed Kingfishers.

Now that the sunset was over, we wandered up a fleet of steps to the party venue. A couple of dozen Rickshaw Runners were already there. We ordered 3 beers. 200rs each! This is quite expensive. Whoa Mr Barman? Where is the rest of my beer? Instead of our usual long necks, we were give 3 stubbies meaning double the double price.

As we savoured every sip, we chatted to others at our table. The usual adventure swapping. Rickshaw comparisons. Etc etc. The music was louder than a Muslim prayer call so we decided to abandon the party.

Closer to the Yo Yo, we found a bar cum restaurant with a decent sized crowd and decent priced beer. We enjoyed both. An early night. Obviously not party Goas.

Day 8. Strawberries. A Camel. Kingfishers. Luxury on tap!

Day 8 Pune to Hatkhamba

342km 13 hours

An early start for a big day. We have a mountain range to cross before dropping onto the coastal plains. Our first hill was a long slow climb mostly in 2nd gear. As we ascended, the views just got better and better.

Before the second stage of climbing, the road was very pleasant. Cooler temperatures. Idyllic rickshaw running. How could it improve!

Easy.

How about some fresh strawberries at just 100rs a kilogram! We imagined this strawberry vendor must have had a small plot of strawberries out the back of his roadside stall and we were extremely lucky to have come at the right time. Probably would have sold out over the next hour for sure!

They were sweet and juicy. The only thing missing was ice-cream - which we found later of course.

We continued climbing and just before the summit, a finger of a cliff jutted out into the void. At the end of this protrusion were a couple of ice cream stalls and a cameleer offering camel rides on the edge of the cliff. We paid our 20rs entrance fee and took the obligatory photos of the awesome views. The cameleer was getting irate with us though as we all his prospective clients preferred "selfies" with us rather than his camel.

Soon after, the summit was reached. And it just kept getting better. Beautiful tree lined roads. Blooming flowers and bougainvillea lined streets. Shops of every description. An abundance of tourist attractions - paint ball - wax museum - white horse rides - theme parks - rowboats

AND

Hundreds of strawberry stalls!

What must go up, must come down. Rather than stopping at one of the numerous attractive roadside restaurants offering everything strawberry, we elected to continue along - surely there would be more on the downhill side. Surely not! No strawberry milkshakes, sundaes, smoothies, pies, pancakes for these idiots. Instead we had to settle for our staple diet of a Thali. They couldn't even rustle up a sweet lassi.

The downhill side seemed longer than the uphill side. Long, steep and winding. We would lean into each corner. A foot on the brake and in low gear most of the way. The temperature inched its way up as we inched our way down. Our target was Ratnagiri. With a very slow speed, there was no way we were going to make it. Darkness had arrived. A decision was made to stop at the first hotel to avoid the dreaded night time drive.

Fortunately it was dark when we arrived at our chosen hotel. Illuminated brightly out the front with flashing blue LED lights, it looked pretty cool. This was where all the money was spent though. The rear side of the hotel seemed to be still under construction. No way could we go any further and with the promise he could obtain some icy cold Kingfisher beers, we settled in for the night....

Day 7. Wine and Craft Beer

Day 7. Aurangabad to Pune

267kms. 9 hours or rickshaw running.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one sitting. This was a breakfast buffet of extraordinary items. Everything you can imagine was there. Right down to genuine chocolate donuts. We pigged out. Simple.

Before leaving though, no visit to India is complete without a visit to the Taj Mahal. Unfortunately the most popular one is in Agra, several hundred kilometres so we went and visited the Very Second Best Taj Mahal In All Of India. The crowds were non existent which meant Lady Diana photo poses with not a tourist in sight.

The road from Aurangabad was not good. Boring. Nothing to write about so I will skip straight to our winery visit. I kid you not. Now when I say a winery, you are probably thinking of a hillside covered in grapes. At the bottom of the hill you would expect a trendy tasting facility with plus surroundings.

Not so in India.

The Deccan Plateau Winery is a small shed in a conglomeration of larger sheds. We were given a private tasting of wine straight from the bottom of locally made stainless steel casks. The white wine was cloudier than an Indian Monsoon. The taste grittier than the air of Delhi. "It will be better once it is properly fermented and filtered" the vigneron hastily explained.

The red was better. (We think it was a red.) Chris being a long time Indian wine buff purchased two bottles of the finest Shiraz of the Deccan Plateau Vineyard. I guess it will take longer to mature than my two sons did.

Back on to more boring roads leading into Pune. We checked into the Treebo Park View Hotel and whoopty doo, two other Rickshaw Runners arrived just after us. For 2000rs, this place was excellent value with clean sheets and a modern/clean bathroom.

Whilst discussing wine with the Deccan Plateau Vineyard Vigneron, we had switched the subject to wine from beer - as in, "where can we buy beer in Pune". Thus armed, we set out from the hotel in search of an elusive brew - which we found on the 3rd floor of a modern mega mall in the heart of Pune. T.J's Brewhouse. The decor was modern. The clientele no doubt the more affluent of Pune society. The locally brewed beer was rougher than a Deccan Plateau Vineyard Riesling and at the cost of around $6 a pint, hard to swallow.

We cast our beer searching net a bit wider in the mall and next tried the Beer Cafe. You beauty. Beer Towers of Kingfisher for around $5. Give us two batman! Sorry, but no Kingfisher left. Only Coronas at quadruple the price.

Disheartened, we left the glittering lights of the mall and went back to India and the Family Restaurant. Icy cold beer! Good food and not a family in sight. More like a sports bar - that still advertises Ice Cream all over its walls - probably just to satisfy the franchise requirements of the Family Restaurant chain.

A paid rickshaw ride back to our hotel. Can you imagine 3 western Rickshaw Wallahs in the rear seat giving driving tips to the local Rickshaw Wallah? He did drive like a sissy though.....

Day 6. Lady Di poses at the baby Taj Mahal

Day 6 Dhule to Aurangabad

156kms 7 hours rickshaw running.

We left reasonably early. Our destination today - the famous Ellora Caves. Obviously a very popular place as it was festooned with cars and tour buses. Even a few Rickshaw Runners.

Eventually we found a friendly restaurant owner willing to store our bags so we set off for the caves - which are not Caves but a series of excavations carved into a hillside of solid rock. Around 16 such excavations. The largest involved the removal of 200,000 tons of rock. It only took 7000 workers 150 years to do this. Well done chaps. We nominate this place as one of the wonders of the world. (Along with the Jurassic Park of Mandu)

We pushed on to the large city of Aurangabad. After several nights of squalor, we needed a hotel with a pool not the colour of Gatorade. And we were successful. The Hotel Ambassador Ajanta.

We left India once we passed trough its the gateway. Within minutes, we had a swarm of hotel staff around us. 3-4 receptionists. 2 doormen. 3-4 Bellboys. And just a couple of others who were not sure what their jobs were. After a hectic period of head wobbling and referring to booking.com rates as opposed to their overly optimistic rack rate, we were provided with a room at just 6200 rupees. Just over $120AUD.

But wait. There is more. The Manager obviously impressed with 3 finely dressed men arriving in such a grand manner felt he must upgrade us to a family suite. He even offered us a complimentary buffet breakfast!

The room was Rickshaw Runners nirvana. Two large rooms. Chris in his own with lounge suite and personal television. After several minutes of whooping and yeee haaaing, we went and lazed by the pool.

The only downside was a lack of Kingfisher beer. We walked the streets of Aurangabad in vain. Instead of Kingfishers, we did some heavy drinking of Mango and sweet lassis at a local restaurant.

All was not bad at Aurangabad.

Day Five. Dinosaurs and Downhill

Day 5 Mandu to Dhule.

239kms. 10 hours rickshaw running

Mandu is a town of old forts, walls and other random monuments. Anywhere else and it would be on the tourist maps for sure. But because of where it is, it only attracts dead cat lovers.

So it one goes up a very steep mountain, it makes sense to go down a very steep hill the other side. Which we did. A small dirt road turned off the smooth asphalt of the main road. A large stone gateway heralded our starting point. Off we went. We went over huge rocks, gaping potholes, nearly flipped the rickshaw and encouraged all 3 wheels to stay on the road. Just one off the edge would mean a very short journey all the way down to the dusty plains below.

After what seemed hours, we decided to check on our progress. We figured on successfully driving for 93.6 metres.

To our surprise, a motorbike was following us down the road. They were very excited as they were yelling and waving at us. Once they caught us, we tried to interpret their hand gestures and high pitched screaming. With confidence, we deduced they were saying, "Do not pursue this path as it will most certainly lead to your death and destruction and the only positive outcome of your journey will be your reunification with your deceased feline friend, Mandu."

After 3 seconds of deliberation, we decided to take heed of their advice and started pushing PapaBaba back up the hill to the relative safety of the main road.

NowI have already mentioned we share the road with camels, donkeys, trucks, buses, bicycles, cows, dogs, goats, humans, chickens. Today we can add on Tyrannosaurus Rex. Yes. Some Indian entrepreneur thought it would be a great idea to build a Jurassic Park on this road. This deserved a photo so we pushed through a rusty turnstile and headed off to T-Rex. After just a couple of photos, we spotted an Indian coming to us at a very rapid pace with what looked to be a ticket book in his hands.

What to do? We ran back to our rickshaw and hightailed it out of there.

The next few hours were horrid driving. Roadworks all the way. Heavy traffic. Quite boring. Eventually we joined up the main road. Heavy traffic. Roadworks. A little less boring.

So after a boring day, what better way than to finish in a dull town, spelt Dhule.

First task is to find a crappy hotel. Chris was driving. The traffic very heavy. Eventually all vehicles were funnelled into a narrow street and came to just about a standstill. A group of policeman at the next intersection clearly indicated we were not to enter that street. However with the urging of William and myself, Chris drove straight past them. They shouted at us which Chris must have taken as words of cheering and encouragement so he continued on beeping his horn trying to part the thickening crowd of people.

It was at this point the policeman with his whilst blasting caught up with us! He shouted "Fine. Fine" at us a few times. We answered back, "Yes we are very fine thank you" Chris kept blaring his horn whilst he did a U turn as we waved,smiled and drover away from one pissed off policeman!

We found a crappy hotel for just 1150 rupees. We had arrived relatively early so gave us a chance to wash a few clothing item. A rather futile attempt but at least we tried.

Time to hit the streets, search for beer and dinner. Dinner won. Beer lost. Dinner was actually Mango lassi and ice creams. William was looking rather shabby so a local shave for he and PapaBaba was 100 rupees well spent. We continued down what appears to be a full on walking market. The same street the police turned us away from. And yes, they were still there so we did another U turn before they spot and pursue us again.

Still hungry so more snacks before returning to our hotel where a huge surprise awaited us. Two other Rickshaw Runners! "Kormas a Bitch" and "The Indian Job." We caught up with tall tales of the past few days before retiring to our room for a blissful night of slumber.

Day Four. Homage to a Dead Cat

Ghodra to Mandu

344kms 12 hours rickshaw running.

The Rickshaw Run includes little. A custom painted rickshaw. A departure and arrival party. The co-ordination of 80 or so other rickshaw runners.

The accommodation and routes are up to each team. How you get from Jaisalmer to Kochi is determined by months of planning. Time tabling. Alternative routes. Average speeds. Distance travelled and distance to go. Maps. Apps and Google Maps. When meeting with other teams, the conversation usually goes:

"Hello. What is your team name? Which way are you going?"

Of course our team, PapaBaba, did no planning apart from making our way to Jaisalmer. The rest was a complete unknown. So how did we choose our route? Let me give you an example.

We used to have a cat called Mandu. (Kathmandu - get it!) Mandu is now dead. But not forgotten. Whilst perusing the map of India, we came across a town called Mandu. The only problem was that it was directly West instead of South. Only a couple of hundred kilometres detour. So we thought an omen is an omen and added Mandu to our itinerary. As it turned out, a couple of other teams must also have had cats called Mandu as we met another team on the way there.

The best thing about Ghodra was the excellent road out of it. By 7am, our rickshaw was warmed up and we set off. Highways were not our favourite travel portal so we sought out an alternative route. Though off the highway, we shared our journey with the usual assortment of trucks, buses, cars, tractors, motorbikes, cows and goats.

The countryside was tuk tuk bliss. Shady trees lined the road. The villages all neat and tidy. Even less usage of vehicle horns. Crops being planted and harvested. Excellent seeing large patches of green instead of the usual brown dusty paddocks and wasteland. Even the temperature was perfect.

We were making such good progress, celebrations were due. A Mango smoothie followed by an ice cream. India was showing its kind side.

Our progress was slow though. As we drifted into our afternoon tuk tuk stupor watching the metres bump by, we found we were not alone. The "Stimulus Package" rickshaw! Unbelievable as they too were en route to the feline town of Mandu.

We seemed to take turns in passing each other. A fuel stop would slow us down. Shortly after, we would pass them whilst they let their rickshaw cool down in the heat.

It was our turn next to pass them but instead, they were coming at us in the opposite direction. What! A local had advised them the road ahead was in a severe state of disrepair and they would be crazy to go that way. In turn, they had elected to go an alternate route - adding on at least an hour.

Now we knew better than the locals of course. How could any road be worse than what we had already experienced? Call us crazy, but we were going for it!

This was the worst road ever. Period. Potholes. Bumps. Corrugations. Washouts. We had betrayed the PapaBaba Rickshaw who had served us so well to date. Surely it would now fall apart?

Never underestimate the intestinal fortitude of our team and our rickshaw. Not only did it not fall apart, it shook, rattled and rolled across the shittiest road ever.

No maps. No internet signal. No GPS. The sun was lowering in the sky and Chris deduced that all we had to do was keep aiming East thus keeping the sun behind us. Great idea. We continued on with the sun alternating its position. One minute we would be following the shadow cast by our flag atop the rickshaw. A short time later, the sun would be in our eyes.

Our next means of navigation was more complex. As we got to each intersection, we would simply ask someone the correct road to Mandu. The result was usually a blank look in reply. Perhaps it was our pronunciation? Which way is it to Mandu/Mandy/Mandor/Mandev/Mandan? Occasionally we would get a head wobble with a slight emphasis on either a left wobble or a right wobble. And it was with this navigational method that we wobbled our way to Mandu.

Now Mandu is located on the precipice of a plateau. We were on the plain below. The last hour or so involved a steep winding road inching its way up to our feline destination. As we looked back down, the endless plain was soaked in an orange sunset.

Eventually we reached the town of Mandu. It was well past dusk. Dogs. Cows. Goats and monkeys welcomed us. Not a cat in sight. Oh ghost of Mandu, where are you?

The Main Street was consistent with the road we had chosen. I think we averaged 10km/h in between potholes. Some idiot had built multiple unpainted speed bumps along the road. Surely not for vehicles? They were as useless as a pedestrian crossing in New Delhi.

The cat ghost of Mandu must have been angry with us. Apart from trying to stop our journey with shitty roads, navigational issues, steep 2nd gear only hill climbs and the speed bumps, Mandu had one last attempt at thwarting us. (Is that a word?)

A massive noise was up ahead. Loud banging and booming. A truck with huge speakers turned up to 11 stopped our progress. Along with a few policemen. Some kind of stupid festival was in progress. No dead bodies or sad newlyweds. I think this was just a "slow the rickshaw down" festival. It worked. We sat and watched the festival. The festival also stopped and watched us. And so it went on for a half hour or so.

Eventually the festival goers realised the futility of what they were doing. Which seemed to be nothing - so they moved on for a few metres - just enough room for us to honk our way through the remnants of the crowd while we searched for a hotel to spend the night.

We chose the very first one. As we did, a stranger sight awaited. Down the street, the other rickshaw runner - "The Stimulus Package" approached! We had beaten them! Of course we told them the road they declined was no problem at all. Smooth as silk. Still not sure if they believed our utter bullshit.

They set off in search of the "the only hotel in Mandu". I think it was the 7th one from ours on the right hand side. Maybe totally relying on booking.com is not the best hotel seeking strategy in India.

By now we were pretty well stuffed. We found a very popular restaurant which luckily for us was completely deserted. We ordered beers only to be told there is no beer.

A new Supreme Court ruling this year forbids any alcohol shops within 500 metres of a highway. "You call that shit piece of road a highway!"we argued - and lost. No problem. After a few head wobbles, it was arranged for the lowest staff member to travel some 7kms away to procure a 6 pack of Kingfishers for us.

Whilst waiting, the festival which had stopped us earlier came back for a second attempt to piss us off. They set up shop just outside our restaurant and tried again for another 10 minutes. Eventually the parade passed. The parade consisted of a tractor towing a cart with a massive generator which powered the next cart carrying the speakers. The next car had the singers and dj's. A further cart carried something ornate - probably with a prince and princess inside. Finally the cart with Mr and Mrs Mandu adorned with blue and green LED lights - followed by a procession of curious partygoers.

By the time we had finished our dinner, drank just four beers of the six (and then primarily to toast our dead cat, Mandu) we walked back to our hotel in a sleepless zombie like state - taking care to slow down over the speed bumps. A typical day of 12 hours in a tuk tuk across India.

Day Two. Sanchore to Udaipur

320kms. 10-11 hours tuk tukking.

Early morning departures mean cooler temperatures and less maniacs on the road. Apart from us and 84 other foreign Rickshaw wallahs scattered over India. We aimed for a 6am departure which occurred at 7am.

Initially we were on some kind of highway. But first, let me explain the roads.

At the top end, you have tollways. Usually dual carriage ways. Two lanes each side. This means up to 4 vehicles each carriageway. Yes. Four for each of the two lanes. On the very far left is what looks like a cycle way. One edge is painted white. The other has a precipitous drop from the asphalt to the gravel sides. If there is a side. Sometimes just sheer drops into a culvert, river or someone's humpy. It is on this section that the rickshaws tend to get pushed to. Now the real problem is that some Indians watch too many American movies and think its cool to drive on the right hand side of the road. Which means even though you are on a tollway with up to 4 trucks, buses, cars, motorbikes and rickshaws all side by side, you then have a truck coming from the opposite direction. The tricky bit is working out who has the right of way. Whatever you may think, it is not the rickshaw!

Another problem we encountered with the other vehicles was when they were overtaking us. A common occurrence as our cruising speed was around 43km/h. Instead of overtaking, they would just drive a metre or so alongside of us, have a chat, take selfies and always, always, always ask where we were from - Australia - Ricky Ponting!

A step down from the dual carriageways are the highways. Exactly as above but not a divided road.

Further down the roads hierarchy, is the humble village to village road. This is what rickshaws seek out. You still have trucks, buses, cars, motorbikes and rickshaws. This time however, you get to add chickens, cows, camels, donkeys, monkeys, goats, dogs, ice cream carts, bullock carts, cow shit, dog shit, goat shit (and inside our rickshaw - bullshit) and a large portion of 1.24 billion Indians

And finally, the roads we ended up most days. Let's just say roads so bad even the goats shunned them.

Anyway, on this day, we travelled on a mixture of roads. Mostly with goats.

So how do the rickshaws handle the varying terrain? Head wobble time. Meaning "maybe some good, May be some not so good."

PapaBaba 60 however is going strong. Not thrashing it today like when we did yesterday trying to climb sand dunes. Apart from a very noisy hole in the muffler, it is purring like a Tiger!

Not so for many others. The "WhatsApp" app is in overdrive today. Mostly concerned with breakdowns, spare parts, mechanic locations and general despise of the town of rock throwers, Barmer.

Our target today is Udaipur - the Venice of Rajasthan with its lakes, palaces, bridges and stunning scenery. So good that James Bond once visited and made the movie, Octopussy. (Shown in every second backpacker hotel/hostel each night at 7pm)

The Lake Palace Hotel (A Taj Hotel) sits like a pearl in the middle of the man made lake. It is recognised as one of the leading hotels of the world. A perfect place to wash off the dust. We tried to book a room but had 3 problems.

1. Being on an Island, we couldn't drive our Rickshaw there. 2. They had no vacancies for a triple room. 3. The price we thought of 1000 rupees was actually $1000.

So what would an AirBnB Superhost do in this situation? Absolutely! Get out the AirBnB app and start searching. Didn't take long to find a true gem. A central location. Impressive photos. Cooking classes. Chef cooked dinners. Free wifi. And the clincher - finger print reading. A few clicks of the button and we were booked ready to arrive in a couple of hours. Not possible to book any earlier in case we can't make it.

We managed to arrive just before 6pm. After quick introductions and general bewilderment as to why we were in a rickshaw without a driver, they insisted we leave immediately to the "nearby" rope bridge to view sunset over the lake. We weren't overly fussed but they insisted we do so. Without further adieu, the turban headed host jumped on his scooter and said follow me! Back in the rickshaw we went. Expecting a two minute trip. No. This is India. Took about 20 minutes.

Now remember my description of all the Indian roads above? Let's add another one right now!

Inner city mazes. Narrow and winding streets with the usual mix of vehicles, goats and cows. Now add in more people. Street vendors. Gawking tourists. And police who just seem to want to wave you down all the time. Now these streets are where all your rickshaw driving experience is put to the test. To cram through some spaces, we are talking about centimetres. Lots of reversing. U turns. Sharp turns. Stalling. Aaaargh!

Once at the "rope bridge", we were met with a group of surly Rickshaw drivers who had taken up most of the parking places. We thought it would be cool to just join them all. Not a great idea. There was obviously a perceived threat to their livelihoods. How is it that the tourists are now offering other tourists rickshaw rides? Demands were made of our qualifications. Do you have licences? Of course! We too are Rickshaw Wallahs! That seemed to satisfy them. Off to the rope bridge to catch the sunset - our AirBnB guide had in the meantime shot through. Said he had to get back. (Remember this simple act. As you will read further, it had somewhat severe repercussions for us.)

The rope bridge is actually a cable car to the top of a hill. The last time William and I had caught a cable car in Asia turned out to be a very harrowing experience. And that was in a state of the art cable car. This one was typically Indian. The only surprise was that it was powered by a motor. Judging by its general appearance, a couple of cows yoked up to a large wheel seemed more likely.

The car crawled its way to the top of the hill. Just in the nick of time to catch the sunset over what looked like a scene from the Greek Islands. White washed houses, lakes and a gorgeous sunset. Once the sun goes down, little else to do apart from return to the Rickshaw Parking lot. Fortunately our rickshaw was still intact. Looks like we had been accepted into the Rickshaw Union after all.

Now for the problem. It is just getting dark. Our AirBnB is 20 minutes away through a maze of sharp turns, markets and 5-6 engine stalls.

Remember earlier when I mentioned there would be severe repercussions when our "guide" left us? Let's just say we didn't have the name, address or clue as to where it was. Oh Shit! All we had were memories of the trip out. A policeman waving us down. Stunned tourists with red shirts. A shop with a black and white goat outside. Shops selling Kashmiri handicrafts.

Only took us a stressful hour or so to find it. Mostly due to the "Rain Man" skills of Chris. Memory like an Indian elephant (which we are yet to see). It was not all smooth tuk tukking though. However we did get to see a lot of Udaipur! We

To finish the night, we had a superb meal prepared by the Airbnb cooking class chef. Feeling absolutely stuffed, we retired to dream of smooth roads and reliable rickshaws.